Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

You don’t know who’s more surprised when the treasure chest opens. The pirates that opened it expecting a pile of gold and riches (which to be fair, there is plenty of), or the baby lying in the middle of said treasure. See, any reasonable person’s first guess is probably the pirates, since the baby is probably too little to have any idea what’s going on. If someone guessed that, it’s a fair guess so you’d give them half credit. But in this case, the baby is way more surprised than the pirates because a) the baby is you, b) just a few minutes ago you were a full-grown adult nowhere near any islands or treasure chests, c) you have absolutely zero idea how you got to be inside said treasure chest, and d) you’ve watched enough anime to recognize that the giant pirate leaning over the treasure chest with the crescent mustache and giant scythe-looking sword thing is none other than Edward Newgate aka Captain Whitebeard aka the pirate who went to war to try to save Ace during the Marineford Arc of One Piece and not only failed but also died trying.

You watched that arc during a really, really rough patch of grad school and you’re not ashamed to admit that you were emotionally devastated by Luffy’s brother getting barbeque-skewered right in front of him.

Everything moves suddenly and it takes you a couple of disorienting seconds to figure out that someone pulled you out of the treasure chest; the person is too small to be Whitebeard and they don’t look like a pineapple or have a big poof of hair with an off-color goatee so since it’s not Whitebeard, Marco or Thatch, you have no idea who exactly is holding you. But they’re careful to hold your head up and support your weight which is a really good thing because you’ve just remembered the fact that you’re a baby.

A fucking baby.

No, not just a fucking baby, you’re a fucking baby in the world of fucking One Piece.

Jesus Christ there had better be a good explanation for this.

“It’s a baby?!” someone shouts. You try to roll your eyes and instead your eyelids kind of flutter a little bit. You can’t really raise your arms or move your legs either; the best you can do is squirm a little bit in the arms of whoever’s holding you.

Oh, this is going to get old real fast.

There’s some big motion just outside your field of view, which you’re quickly realizing is very, very, ridiculously pathetically limited and you can basically only make out big blocks of color for anything that isn’t directly in front of you. It takes you a couple seconds to realize that the massive shape can only be the captain crouching down.

“Let me see.”

“Here, Pops. Make sure you support the head.”

And just like that, the arms holding you lay you flat on your back on something warm and firm but not hard and you’re so tiny that you barely take up a fraction of Whitebeard’s palm. He raises you up higher, or maybe he moves his face closer to get a better look, because then all you can see is a face looking down at you with so much intensity it’s hard to breathe.

You might not have any clue what’s going on but this is the Strongest Man in the World and that World is full of overpowered monsters and you’re a teeny tiny little infant. If he closed his fingers, he’d crush you like a grape. But he’s probably not going to do that, not when he’s looking down at you in wonder, and your baby eyes don’t work for shit but you can still see that he looks like he’s tearing up.

“Where did you come from?” he mutters.

Great fucking question, dude. You would also love to know the answer.

“What are we going to do with him?”

Him?! Excuse you, you are not a him, you are very much a her and you are going to be having some WORDS with the universe if it went ahead and changed that on you in the middle of making you wake up as a baby in the middle of a fucked up fictional world.

“We’ll take him back to the ship for now. Bring the chest, there may be answers within it.”

Now that is a really good idea.

You don’t know how long it takes to get back to the ship, because you’re lying flat on your back staring up at the sky and looking at clouds because you don’t have enough muscles in your neck to turn your head, much less lift it. But Whitebeard carries you the whole time and you’re pretty positive he’s not going to drop you, so there’s not much left for you to do but try to figure out what the hell is going on.

So far, you know a couple things.

One: You’re a baby. A really little baby who can barely move and is getting exhausted from the effort of just keeping your eyes open.

Two: You have been found by the Whitebeard pirates. Which means you’re probably in One Piece. As a baby.

Three: The Whitebeard pirates are doomed by the narrative and are going to die and that really sucks because you were attached to them back when they were just fictional characters, before you knew that they were the kind of guys who rescued babies from treasure chests.

Four: You have absolutely no idea why you’re a baby in One Piece being rescued by the Whitebeard pirates but unless you can figure out a way to snap out of this weird-ass dream hallucination or whatever, the why kind of doesn’t really matter. You can’t do anything about the fact that you’re a baby, and you can’t really do anything else given the fact that you’re now a baby. You can’t move. You can’t even talk. You can sort of vaguely blow tiny spit bubbles, which is kind of fun if you’re being honest.

Given all of that, your options are kind of limited. Your first and best plan is to try to wake yourself up. This is definitely a hallucination or a dream or a weird fucking drug trip and it will probably end on its own. Which means you just have to wake up. But in the meantime, there’s nothing to worry about because again, this isn’t real.

If plan A doesn’t work out, then there’s plan B: accept the fact that even if this isn’t real, it feels extremely real and maybe you should just go along with it. In the One Piece world, there are infinitely worse places to be than with the Whitebeard pirates. In the impossible chance that this isn’t the kind of dream you wake up from on your own, then maybe it’s not a bad idea to go along with it. Assuming it lasts that long, maybe you can figure out a way to save them from Blackbeard. And Marineford. And all the bad stuff with everyone getting betrayed and dying and getting hunted down and wow you should really stop thinking about this because you keep forgetting that you’re a baby now and the second you start thinking about your favorite characters dying your baby body immediately starts wailing hysterically.

The whole group of pirates instantly starts to panic. It’s actually adorable. There’s something profoundly funny about a group of strong, tough pirates who have absolutely no idea what to do when a baby starts crying and it’s quicker for you to figure out how to make yourself stop crying on your own. It turns out, babies can really only feel one thing at a time so you think about how tiring all this has been and the next thing you know, you’re fast asleep.

“Pops, we can’t keep a baby,” wakes you up from your nap. The new voice is younger than the others you’ve heard so far and he sounds exasperated. Like he can’t believe he has to even say it out loud.

You open your eyes, which involves a frankly ridiculous amount of effort and lots of blinking, before you see who’s talking. Waking up from a nap makes your terrible vision even worse but you focus as hard as you can and the new person slowly takes shape. Purple shirt hanging open to show tan skin underneath, spiky yellow hair on top of his head, general resemblance to a pineapple, yup! This is Marco!

You try to grab his hand and say something, mostly out of curiosity to see what will happen. Your little fist opens and closes and you gurgle. It’s a pretty cute sound. You wish there was a mirror; you probably make a really cute baby.

Something warm settles on your stomach and pulls your attention back from your egoism. The warm thing is attached to something huge that extends far past your line of vision and when it starts moving in gentle circles, you figure out that it’s a single one of Whitebeard’s fingers.

He’s not holding you anymore. You wiggle around and whatever you’re lying on is soft and squishy and it’s probably a crib or a bed or something.

“I know, son,” Edward Newgate says. His voice is heavy, wistful even, but his finger just keeps moving in gentle circles. You don’t know if it’s just your baby brain or the fact that this whole thing has been an exhausting brain-fuck but the sensation alone is enough to pretty much knock you out. Your eyelids flutter shut and you start to drift away. “We’ll set… orsemorsphinx…light… saferer.”

You miss most of what he says in the jumble of exhaustion, but you have a sudden feeling that you want to know what they’re talking about.

Marco hums quietly.

“I thought it’d be harder to convince you, yoi.”

Whitebeard chuckles and the motion jostles the finger on your chest.

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted,” he answers, the deep baritone of his voice rumbling in your ears in one of the most soothing sensations you’ve ever felt, “But a ship is no place for an infant.”

“They’ll love her on Sphinx, Pops,” Marco adds, “There’s nowhere safer for her to be.”

Wait, what?!

They want to ditch you on Sphinx?!

No, oh no no no no NO that is not happening! You did not wake up in the body of a baby inside of your favorite anime only for the fictional characters that you’re already emotionally invested in to DITCH YOU ON SOME D-PLOT RETIREMENT HOME OF AN ISLAND!

NOT HAPPENING!

But what can you do? You’re a baby, it’s not like you can give them an impassioned plea about why they need to keep you around so you can stop Marshal D Teach from stabbing Thatch in the back over a Devil Fruit he won’t find for X number of years. And oh yeah, you still have no idea when you are with respect to canon. It’s at least after the God Valley incident, if Marco and the rest of the crew are calling Whitebeard Pops. But you can’t see well enough to figure out how old everyone is. It should be pretty easy to figure out if it’s before or after Oden, right? And also you have not forgotten that this whole thing is still just a crazy hallucination but it’ll be an infinitely more boring and frustrating hallucination dream if you have to spend it on fucking Sphinx!

Shit, what can you do? They’re right, a baby does not belong on a fucking pirate ship but you have to change their minds before they dump you off (with a loving family, probably, but STILL!) and sail away into the New World where you have no chance of saving them.

You have to change their minds somehow.

But how?

You already know that Marco isn’t going to change his mind. He’s absolutely a hundred percent correct that they should not keep a baby around. So changing his mind is out. But he’s not the one who makes the final decision.

Which means you have to convince Whitebeard that he has to keep you. Somehow. Because again, you are a baby, who can do nothing but blow little spit bubbles, sleep, and cry.

Wait.

Hang on a second.

You can cry!

A plan begins to form; a truly devious plan worthy of a mastermind in the shape of a baby. Whitebeard is already attached to you. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in the wistfulness of the soothing finger motions. You can use that.

There’s probably still time before you get to Sphinx. Once Whitebeard leaves, your plan can begin.

But for now, he doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, so you let yourself fall asleep to the gentle rocking motion of the ship, the warm finger moving in circles on your chest, and the fading voices of father and son making plans.

When you wake up, there’s pink shapes all around you, and quiet but undeniably female voices talking. You’re still in the crib bed thing and you take your time getting your bearings. The pink shapes are nurses and WOW those uniforms are really so pink. You can make out what looks like wooden walls and lots of posters and a kind of sharp smell that reminds you of a hospital, and two plus two means you’re probably in the infirmary. Which seems like the most responsible place for a baby to be left.

But most importantly, and you triple check to make sure, there’s no sign of the captain. Your plan can begin.

With a mighty inhale, you open your mouth and cry.

At first, the nurses think nothing of it. A woman with soft brown curls that tickle against your skin comes to check on you. She picks you up with soft hands and runs through all the usual things that could make a baby cry. You go along with it all but no matter what she tries to fix you keep crying.

She gets more and more frazzled as she runs out of ideas for what to try; you feel bad for her because she’s clearly not very experienced with babies, but you’re on a mission. Lives are at stake—fictional lives, but within the realm of this hallucination dream that’s the same as real lives—and also you REFUSE to be left on Sphinx.

You get passed off to another nurse with long blonde hair who seems much more confident in her baby handling skills, but you hold steadfast and keep crying, forcing yourself to wail your lungs out even though it’s starting to get a little uncomfortable.

Tough luck, baby body. You’ve got a job to do.

You lose track of how many people you get passed around to and all of the different ways they try to soothe the screaming baby, because you will not stop for anything but complete and total victory. The nurses worry that there’s something wrong medically, and then you really do have something to scream about because the blood draw was not fucking necessary thank you very much. Eventually, one of the nurses settles into a rocking chair in a dark room and tries her best to rock you to sleep.

It's a persistence game and you are not going to lose. If there is one thing you’re good at, one skill you honed above all other during your PhD, it’s being stubborn as all hell. It doesn’t matter that your lungs are starting to burn and your throat hurts and your stomach is getting uncomfortably tight from all the screaming and crying. You’re going to win.

You cry the whole time, even when Marco comes in to do a full body checkup and tries using his Phoenix flames on you.

The blue gold fire tickles and it feels warm and safe and OH BOY was that a mistake on their part because the rawness in your throat from an entire day’s worth of screaming heals up in a wash of Devil Fruit magic and you are completely refreshed and ready to keep going.

After Marco leaves, looking completely baffled and overwhelmed because he also has no idea why an otherwise healthy baby is screaming her head off, you cry for hours and hours and hours. You cry through three changes of shift in the nurses holding you, before they finally decide to put you back in your crib cradle bed thing and let you cry it out in a dark room.

You’re being Ferberized. It’s a good call on the nurses' part. They are as confident as they can possibly be that you’re healthy and not poisoned or sick or in treatable pain, and they really gave it a damn good shot to comfort you. Too bad for them, you are not going to stop crying anytime soon.

Oden held on to that rope for three whole days and nights. You’ve got a record to beat.

Well, a quick nap. They’ll freak out if the baby stays awake for three days straight, and you’re not sure that it’s even physically possible in the body you’re in.

But when you wake up, it’s right back to screaming.

“Can’t we do something for her?” a random crewmate begs, holding onto his ears while the nurse wraps up his arm in a bandage.

“You’re welcome to try,” the nurse responds and you feel a little bad about the amount of pride you take in the massive bags under her eyes. Even through bleary tears, you can tell that she and the other nurses are exhausted. Meanwhile, you are well-rested and only have a little bit of a sore throat, and you’re ready to see how long a ship full of strong, burly men with daddy issues up the wazoo can handle a baby that won’t stop crying.

You’ve never been much of a gambler but even you know it’s easy money.

Whitebeard lasts about a day and a half before he starts fretting over you. The nurses have assembled a collection of pacifiers and teething toys that they apparently had to send out a small ship to rendezvous with a merchant from a nearby island to get, and they’re at their wits' end when you refuse to latch onto any of them.

The nurses assure their captain that you’re healthy and eating normally and sleeping and they have no explanation for why you won’t stop crying. Whitebeard looks down at you with devastating helplessness. It’s so endearing that you almost stop crying. He’s such a softie, he wants to help so badly but he obviously knows nothing about babies or how to fix you.

He tries the finger thing again, and it feels really, really good, especially because you’re sore and exhausted and in pain from days of crying, but it’s only the evening of the second day and it’s too soon to stop. But you need to show him he’s moving in the right direction, so you sort of pause your screaming for a second before getting fussy again, this time just crying much quieter. The nurses all breathe a mini sigh of relief that at least the ear-splitting screaming has stopped.

Whitebeard doesn’t stop, and eventually you let yourself fall asleep even if you keep crying the whole time.

Day three is where it really starts to hurt.

You wake up exhausted and your stomach feels horrible and cramping from a full day of screaming and your throat hurts and your skin feels chapped for some reason but you can’t stop now. The nurses have stopped trying to pick you up after learning that you scream harder when they’re holding you, and beyond keeping you fed and clean there’s nothing they can really do for you.

You hope Marco will try to heal you again, but even when you grab at his hand, he just tries shushing you. Eventually you realize that screaming with renewed vigor after he healed you the first time probably made him think he made things worse.

Shit.

You force yourself to keep crying while the nurses and Marco and Whitebeard try to figure out what they can do, it’s been three days and you’ve cried every second that you’ve been awake and they have no idea what’s wrong. They talk about finding special doctors, explain that they’ve contacted islands under their protection to find seasoned mothers who might be able to help, and at one point someone gets Whitey Bay on the snail.

“It’s colic, Marco,” Whitey Bay explains while you silently cheer because you’ve figured out that it’s sometime after Oden if Whitey Bay has left the ship to become her own Captain. “If your fire can’t fix it, there’s nothing for you to do. Her tummy hurts.”

She’s right; after three days, your tummy does hurt. But they’re still planning to leave you on Sphinx so you can’t stop. You scream the whole day, fussing and fighting the whole time the nurses try to feed you, and at this point it’s clear that your crying is running the whole crew ragged. Not just the nurses, who have been trying everything they can think of to help you, but every crewmate who’s come through the infirmary looks wide-eyed and panicked and shares the same helplessness as their captain. The poor crew; they all want to help but they’ve finally met their match in a crying baby.

You’d feel bad but you’re doing this to save them. You are giving everything you have to stop them from being blindsided and destroyed by a traitor, so you don’t feel that bad.

Whitebeard comes to sit with you in the dark room they’ve been putting you in at night. He’s doing the circle thing again, and after three whole days of screaming, it feels amazing. You want to stop crying, you are exhausted and your throat is on fire and your entire body hurts but you’re so close and you can’t give up now.

“I wish there was something I could do for you,” Whitebeard mutters, watching you cry with a look of utter devastation on his face. Seriously, for all they know, you have colic. Yeah, it’s sad that baby’s tummy hurts, but even if that was why you were crying it won’t kill you.

His other hand, the one that isn’t rubbing circles on your chest, twitches and your eyes widen. Is this it?

The nurses have warned him not to pick you up, that being held makes the crying worse, but it’s clearly wearing him down to watch you suffer. When he doesn’t move, you seize your opportunity and put all your effort into looking him in the eyes (still crying, obviously). You reach for him, using all your pathetic little might to lift your arm and make a grabby motion.

Whitebeard hesitates, but you see the instant when his heart wins and he carefully scoops you up into his palm.

As soon as you’re cradled in the warm but firm hand, you stop crying. After days of nonstop crying and screaming, your body is completely worn out and you go boneless in his hand. You’re an infant, it’s not that much of a change, but at this point you don’t have the energy to even twitch.

His eyes widen and his mouth parts in surprise.

The sudden silence must freak the nurses out, because the door flies open and nurses rush into the room.

“What happened?”

“Is she okay?”

“Where is she?!” one of the nurses demands. She must have seen the empty crib.

The world moves as Whitebeard lowers his palm, showing you lying there in blissful silence. Okay, maybe not blissful because you might as well have just deep-throated a cactus and your stomach is having the very worst cramps of your entire life and your whole body hurts like you got rammed by a bus. But it’s finally over.

You did it.

Whitebeard picked you up.

“She stopped crying?”

Whitebeard nods.

“As soon as I picked her up,” he says quietly, his voice filled with something close to awe. It’s the same emotion that’s shining in his eyes, and unless you’re mistaken, they weren’t that wet a couple minutes ago. “I’d like you to go get for Marco for me.”

The nurses freeze. A few of them exchange looks with each other.

“Pops, don’t tell me—”

“Please go get your brother, Sage.”

Marco is summoned to the room in a matter of minutes and the way he rubs at his eyes means it’s probably the wee hours of the morning.

“Pops, is something wrong?” he yawns as he enters the dark room. Then he takes in the scene and the lack of a crying baby and he stops. “Oh no, Pops, hang on a second.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Whitebeard says and you can’t breathe because the moment of truth is finally here. Marco lets out a groan and sits down on a chair, burying his face in his hands.

“Pops, we’ve been over this. We can’t keep her, it’s too dangerous to have a baby on board.”

“She stopped crying the instant I started holding her. You know better than to ignore fate, my son. She belongs with us.”

“Maybe she was just cold. You’re a lot warmer than the crib, you don’t know that it’s fate,” Marco pleads. You shift in Whitebeard’s palm and coo as loudly as you can to try to distract him. Your throat is not pleased with you but you can’t let stupid things like logic and reason and the fact that Marco is still objectively correct get in your way. Whitebeard looks down at you and melts and you know you’ve got him.

“What’s the point of being the Strongest in the World if I can’t protect my treasure?” Whitebeard asks quietly.

Marco sighs and the fight leaves his body completely.

“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

Whitebeard chuckles and shakes his head, “Not a thing.”

Marco sighs again and you give him points for being such a dramatic bitch. He’s not the one who spent the last three days screaming his head off, what does he have to complain about?

He stands up and pads over to where Whitebeard is sitting, and the world shifts again as the captain lowers his palm so Marco can see you better. Calloused fingertips settle on your cheek, curling down to stroke across the soft skin and you can just barely make out the moment when his eyes soften.

“She is really cute,” Marco admits to his father, and you’re a little surprised how easily he accepts the man’s decision when you know he’s against it. Then again, Whitebeard is his captain and what he says goes.

Whitebeard laughs and it’s full-bellied and delighted and full of so much warmth that it feels like being right in front of a fireplace.

“Of course she is,” Whitebeard agrees heartily, “She’s my daughter! She’s the cutest in the world!”

You stare up at him in awe, a fuzzy feeling growing in your chest and spreading out through your whole body until you feel all tingly. The plan was to get him to keep you, you can’t save them from Blackbeard and the Marines from fucking Sphinx of all places, but you never actually stopped to think about what that would mean.

You may be a full-grown adult somehow smushed down into the body of a baby caught in some kind of freaky full-color dream world or hallucination (or as much as you refuse to believe, fictional universe come to life) but Whitebeard doesn’t know that. As far as he knows, you’re just a baby. A baby he’s staring at adoringly that he’s just claimed as his own.

Until you can figure out how to wake up, he’s your dad now.

And you’re going to do whatever it takes to save him.

“We’re going to need a lot of diapers,” Marco murmurs. Your eyes widen. Right, you’re still a baby. This is going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

The biggest immediate change is that you’re moved from the infirmary to Whitebeard’s—no, he’s your dad now—your dad’s room. You’re a little surprised that he decided to take care of you himself, but when you think about the fact that you cried nonstop for days until he picked you up, it makes a lot of sense. Besides, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to do things by half and he’s decided he’s raising you. The crew somehow got their hands on a giant reinforced crib that’s high enough in the air for Whitebeard to care for you easily and put it into his room right next to his ginormous bed.

You’ve never been the biggest fan of heights so it freaks you out a little bit at first, but the mattress is enormous and he’s careful to set you down in the middle and quite frankly you can’t move well enough for there to be any danger of you falling out.

Watching the nurses and various crewmates teach Whitebeard how to care for an infant is interesting, and it would be funny if you weren’t so worried about getting poked in the eye with a bottle.

But he is nothing if not determined and he learns quickly. It’s actually really impressive how gentle and precise he can be with a baby so much smaller than him, and maybe you should be more worried about him accidentally crushing you, but you’re not. He’d never hurt you.

It’s not as difficult of a transition as you expect it to be. Part of that is because you try to make it as easy as possible for him now that he’s decided to keep you. You only cry when you need something and for the most part, you’re happy to keep yourself busy by spending every second training. By which you mean training yourself to move your arms and legs and build up your neck muscles and get your eyes to focus and flip yourself over onto your stomach. As far as the nurses can tell, you were about a week old when they found you in the treasure chest so it’s way too early for you to be doing any of that but you don’t care. You’re on a mission. Being a helpless baby sucks ass. If it takes you longer than two months to roll onto your stomach, you’ll find a hat and then eat it.

What a weird expression. Still, it gets the point across.

And even if you didn’t have so much work to do on yourself, it’s impossible to be bored. You may have gotten a new father, but over a thousand strong, battle-hardened New World pirates with capital D Daddy issues just gained a baby sister and now that Whitebeard is keeping you, there’s no reason to stop themselves from getting helplessly attached. And get attached they do. There is a literally endless stream of new big brothers who want to hold you and talk to you and try to make you smile. The piles of toys and presents that they all keep bringing you has grown to ridiculous proportions in the corner of Whitebeard’s room; you have enough stuffed animals and blankets and pillows and baby toys that you could swim in them. Marco has to put his foot down and ban any more gifts.

But that hypocrite might be the very worst offender. Mr. “a baby shouldn’t be on a pirate ship” is the living embodiment of the “dad and the cat he didn’t want” meme. Your new dad still spends just about every minute of the day holding you, but whenever he needs to put you down, Marco is right there to scoop you up. You’re a little disappointed that he doesn’t smell like pineapples because how funny would that be? But he’s strong and sturdy and clearly takes being your oldest brother incredibly seriously, which is so ridiculous and endearing that you can’t help but love him. (You are also looking forward to the hijinks you’re going to drag him into when you’re old enough to do that. You’ve seen how stern he can be with the rest of the crew, you cannot wait to be the only exception to every rule.)

The other commanders are equally obsessed with you, though. Whitebeard brings you to all the commander meetings and you spend the entire time being passed around. Izou’s silky soft kimonos make him a clear winner for favorite person to hold you, but you like playing with Haruta’s sleeves and Rakuyo’s dreadlocks and the ridiculous collar of Vista’s V-neck and Jiru’s hat. Fezzes are cool. (Come on, everyone was thinking it.) Blamenco’s skin pockets are pretty disturbing, but he makes up for it by filling them with things he thinks a baby would love, and you have to love the amount of effort he goes to in order to entertain you. And of course, you hate the idea of Namur thinking you have any innate prejudice against fishmen, so you always demand to have him hold you longer. You like the other commanders too, but you’re a little bit wary of the bigger ones who aren’t nearly as careful with you as Whitebeard is.

It's impossible not to have a favorite, though. Aside from your new dad and Marco who’ve been with you pretty much every second from the day they decided to keep you, there’s one person you already love more than everyone else. You don’t know if it’s because of how kind he is, how much care he puts into every bottle he prepares for you (seriously, gourmet baby formula is not necessary in the slightest), or because you remember how he held out the first olive branch to Ace and helped show him how much the Whitebeards care, but you’re obsessed with Thatch. And boy is he smug about it.

It's hilarious watching grown men fight over which of them the literal baby who can barely raise her head loves more. Still, they are a little too competitive over it, so you make a promise to yourself to never tell them that you have favorites. Besides, you already know that it’s going to be Ace. You wonder how old you’ll be when he gets here.

Time flies.

You put everything you have into getting stronger and hitting your milestones early. You roll over at exactly six weeks old, which is more than two months before you’re supposed to be able to do it and that sets the nurses into a frenzy to figure out if it’s a problem that you’re so far ahead.

Still, it’s around now when Marco brings up something you’d completely forgotten about.

“She’s going to need a name, Pops,” Marco points out, lounging on your dad’s leg with you settled in his arms. His fingers trace gently back and forth in the tiny wisps of hair on top of your head and you blink in confusion.

Right. They don’t know your name. And you can’t really make enough sounds to tell them.

“Marco’s got a point,” Jozu agrees, drawing everyone on deck into the conversation. Everyone gathers around your dad’s chair, “We probably shouldn’t keep calling her ‘the baby.’”

Hang on a second.

You weren’t really paying attention but have they seriously all been calling you “the baby” for over a month? You named your first cat after two days because you felt weird not having a name for him, how has nobody thought that the human baby should have a name after an entire month?

The sound that comes out of your mouth is very grumpy. Marco just laughs and bounces you gently.

“I’ve been considering it, but I haven’t come up with anything that feels right,” your dad says and that’s better than nothing because at least it occurred to him that his daughter should have a given name, “Though I am partial to the name Stephanie.”

Stephanie? Weird, one of your best friends back home (your real home, outside of this dream that you refuse to think about the fact hasn’t gotten any less realistic in the last five weeks) is named Stephanie and it’ll be kind of weird for everyone to call you that. It’s not a bad name though. But why does it sound familiar coming from your dad?

Stephanie. Steph-anie. Stefanie. Stefan-ie HANG ON A SECOND you definitely remember an SBS about Whitebeard’s dog, your dad better not be thinking about giving you the girl-gendered version of the name he’d give a dog.

No. No way no how not fucking happening and there is no time to waste. Before the name has any chance to settle in, you open your mouth and wail. You wail like you haven’t done since your three-day-straight crying marathon and the pirates surrounding you all instantly tense. Whoops. You might have given your pirate family baby-related trauma.

Marco immediately starts shushing you and bouncing you a little faster, trying to calm you down before the crying takes hold.

“Okay, okay, yoi. Not Stephanie. We’ll call you something else.”

A wave of relief passes over you, but you keep crying for a little bit just to keep them from realizing that you can understand them perfectly well. You haven’t decided what your plan is to save the Whitebeards, and you don’t want to blow your cover as a relatively normal baby just yet.

“Her name is Alexandria,” your dad says as he gingerly places you in Squard’s arms. You are… not particularly happy about this development. The name is fine, you could do a hell of a lot worse than Alexandria, but the only thing you remember about the captain of the Maelstrom Spiders is that he stabbed Whitebeard in the chest at Marineford.

This dude’s got major issues and you intend to keep your new family alive, so having a guy around who can be tricked by Admiral Akainu of all people is not conducive towards your goal. But a small gasp escapes Squard’s mouth and he’s staring at you with nothing short of awe.

“She’s perfect,” he says adoringly and your brothers all laugh in agreement. You can tell that this guy is utterly head-over-heels in love with his new baby sister and you let out a huff. Fine. You can probably work with this. Squard starts rocking you in his arms and you give him exactly two minutes before you’re done.

Thatch swoops in as soon you as start getting fussy, laughing that you must be getting hungry, and he’s already your favorite so you’re just incredibly grateful for the save.

Over the course of the next few months, the entire fleet stops by to meet you. You don’t recognize most of them and you’re not very good with faces so you’ll be surprised if you can remember any of them.

Except Whitey Bay. She’s awesome. You recognize that long blue hair instantly, and are already reaching out to her and babbling in excitement when she picks you up. At some point during her visit, someone breaks out a camera snail and takes a picture of Whitey Bay sitting in your dad’s hands, holding you.

The picture goes on the wall of your dad’s room, his oldest and youngest daughters held in his hands, and it’s almost sickening how sweet it is.

Unlike your desperation to gain motor function, you’re not actually in any hurry to learn to talk. Being able to move around on your own will make your life easier but starting to talk just raises the chances of saying something you’re not supposed to. It’s only been a few months and you’re still trying to come to terms with the fact that this dream isn’t going away.

But you don’t want your new family to worry that there’s something wrong, so you slowly start to babble more and imitate some of the easier sounds they make. Mostly to get familiar with what sounds your new body can make.

Predictably, your brothers turn it into a competition. Every single one of them, even the ones who aren’t super comfortable with babies, want their name to be your first word. While you spend all your energy on rolling onto your stomach and pushing yourself up, you slowly work up from coos to basic “ooo” and “ahh” sounds.

When your brothers try to coax you to say names and words, you just act really excited by the attention and wiggle your limbs, ignoring whatever it is they want you to say. You already know what your first word will be.

You have made it your mission to get out of the ‘helpless infant’ stage as fast as you can, and at just about four months, your hard work starts paying off. You can already roll over and sit up on your own, but it’s a damn good day when your arms are finally strong enough to hold you up and your legs figure out how to get traction on the ground.

It’s more of a scooch than a crawl at first, but what it is is independent movement. And now that you’re moving, you do not stop.

At first, your family is delighted by your progress. When your dad sees you crawling around, he’s overjoyed. He’s less overjoyed that night when you’re crawling around in your crib and a violent rock of the ship sends you dangerously close to the edge. You’re not thrilled about it either, to be honest. You didn’t realize there were gaps in the padding.

By universal consensus, the crew decides it’s time to move you to a more height-appropriate crib. Unfortunately, they also decide to put that crib in a separate room. You’re only four months old, and while it isn’t crazy to be moved out that young, you’re not ready. Maybe you’re being sappy, but you like being in arm’s reach of your dad. His arm’s reach, obviously, he’s like a hundred times bigger than you are. You’re safer next to him than you are anywhere else in the world. And you’ve gotten used to the sound of his snoring, you can’t sleep without it.

So, you solve your problem the way you’ve solved every problem so far. By crying. Nonstop. Until they give you what you want and your crib goes back to Whitebeard’s room. The engineering logistics that Blamenco’s division has to go through to make it work is truly astounding, you’re impressed. Blamenco rises in the mental ranking of favorite brothers that you definitely aren’t keeping.

The race is Thatch’s idea. Because of course it is. While Marco and your dad are occupied, he somehow procures a turtle and a live chicken and sets the three of you down in a line on deck.

“Thatch, this is a bad idea,” Jozu says. As highest ranked commander present, he takes the role of voice of reason. Thatch just laughs and waves him off.

“Yeah, it needs to be a real race!” Haruta adds, “She’s obviously faster than a turtle.”

You chew on your blanket, silently eyeing your competition. The chicken, to put it mildly, does not seem to be an intellectual. There’s some real Heihei from Moana vibes going on there. Which is good, you’re not fast enough at crawling to beat a chicken running at full speed. The turtle though? He’s got some good legs. You know better than to rule out the underdog.

What? You’ve read the Tortoise and the Hare.

Clicking sounds pull your attention as Izou slowly strides onto the deck. The crowd of your brothers falls silent; Izou is the scariest one on the ship after Marco. You giggle to break the stalemate, cooing and babbling as Izou wordlessly approaches the starting line.

Maybe you really were born to be a little sister. It literally never gets old watching your brothers get in trouble for doing dumb stuff, and this might be the most idiotic shit you’ve seen them pull yet. Seriously, who puts a baby next to a couple wild animals?

Izou reaches down and you watch the way his silky kimono flutters. But instead of picking you up, he puts something on the ground.

It’s a windup toy.

Your brothers break out cheering and the race is on.

The windup toy takes an early lead. You stay where you are, chewing on your blanket and watching the little toy march forward. The turtle has been moving the whole time, and when he gets a couple inches past the starting line, you decide to make it interesting. You start crawling, causing an eruption of cheers as money and bottles of booze are traded back and forth, but instead of going forward, you head for the chicken.

The chicken is too busy pecking at the deck to notice you. But she definitely notices when you put a hand in her tail feathers. (You don’t pull, that would be animal cruelty) She jumps, wings spreading wide and squawking wildly before running for it. She goes directly into the air, landing on one of your brothers who you think is in the eighth division? And causes everyone to jump away and try to get hold of the poultry run afoul.

Meanwhile, the windup toy is still steadily moving towards the finish line. And you? Well, you obviously have to teach your brothers a lesson about baby safety, so you make a beeline for the turtle.

The cheers grow deafening, and you hear them chanting and shouting encouragements, egging you on to cross the finish line first. None of them seem to realize that you aren’t aiming for the finish line at all.

You’re just behind the turtle. Then you shift your weight to plop down and reach out with both hands to grab him.

“LEXA, NO!!!” Marco shouts, scooping you up just before you have a chance to put the turtle in your mouth and test your body’s natural resistance to salmonella. You protest, leaning out of his grip and reaching for the turtle with both grabby hands. “Thatch, yoi. My office now!”

As you get better at crawling, another problem quickly arises. You live on a pirate ship. You are very small, and not only is the pirate ship very big, but the people on it are also very big.

Your family quickly become very worried about you getting stepped on.

Vista is the one to suggest they build a play pen on the arm of your dad’s chair, which allows you lots of space to crawl and your dad, Marco, and everyone on the upper deck the ability to keep an eye on you. The play pen, when completed, resembles a fortress. To be fair, you are small enough that it’s hard to be positive but you’re pretty sure they built the walls ten feet high. There is no possible way for you to get out on your own.

Quite frankly, you do not care for it. It feels like being in a zoo enclosure, especially with your brothers staring down at you from the upper deck. While you have plenty of room to roam safely, it is boring. The view is terrible. Who wants to look at wooden walls when you’re out at sea? And most importantly, you are not a zoo animal.

So what do you do?

You climb the walls.

As frequently and with as much determination as you can. You do not succeed in climbing the walls because you are very small and weak, but through sheer persistence, that begins to change.

One day you make it five entire feet off the ground before Marco notices and a blur of blue and gold fire snatches you up before you have a chance to fall.

The fortress is dismantled after that. You are quite proud of yourself. Instead of a designated crawling area, they decide on a rotation of baby sitters. Which makes the most sense, when you have a roster of twelve hundred, there’s a pretty deep bench to pull from.

And it’s good bonding time. You learn many, many more names in the two months between learning to crawl and learning to walk than you have in the entire rest of the time you’ve been on the ship.

You’re six and a half months old when you decide it’s time to unveil your surprise. Fossa is currently on baby duty, which you love because he’s not allowed to smoke while you’re on deck and you enjoy watching your brothers be inconvenienced by you. This is because you’re an asshole, you suspect. It’s for this same reason that you are endlessly entertained by the fact that your dad has been banned from drinking sake after the eighth time you somehow got your hands on the gigantic bottle and nearly crushed yourself.

Okay, that also might be because you know that stuff is going to destroy his body and you’d like him to survive into old age. Marineford is also a big risk to his body’s intact-ness and you’d like to avoid that too. That’s for later though.

When you look up from the toys Fossa is waving around, you see your dad watching you with a warm smile on his face. You smile back with your toothless gums and start crawling. Fossa clears the deck with remarkable efficiency and you waste no time making a beeline for your dad. You stop a little bit away from his feet and plop down on your butt. You reach two hands up as high as they can go and call out, “Da-da!”

One of Haruta’s division members just happened to be holding a camera at the time and managed to catch the look on your dad’s face at hearing your first words. Which you did plan for, so you’re welcome, dad.

Saying your first words unlocks the floodgate. By which you mean the floodgates of your brothers trying to teach you their names. You decide to “learn” them in order of how badly you’re able to butcher them.

“Can you say Thatch? Allie Alligator, can you say Thatch?”

“Ahhhhch—” you start, watching the way Thatch’s face lights up.

“That’s it, Allie! Say Thatch!”

“Achoo!” you sneeze. It’s a full-body sneeze that makes you tumble over.

Your brothers crack up, laughing hysterically at the look on Thatch’s face. It’s a shame they’ll never know you did that on purpose; at least your comedy prowess doesn’t go unappreciated. It also starts a running joke that whenever you sneeze, someone calls out, “She’s lookin’ for you, Thatch!”

You’re about seven months old when you can confidently push yourself up onto your feet and start learning how to walk.

Haruta, by virtue of being the shortest crewmate on the ship, becomes your designated walking aid. You feel a little bit bad about how much the rest of the crew bitches and moans about favoritism and how unfair it is that you won’t let anyone else help you, but it’s not personal.

Everyone else is too tall and your arm gets sore from being pulled on too hard. Haruta is the only one who can comfortably lead you around until you get tired. Plus, the added benefit of your siblings’ ultra-competitive nature is that Haruta is always willing to drop everything when you want help.

And you milk that for all it’s worth. There are very few waking hours when you’re not waddling around deck with Haruta attached to you by the hand. It does not take long at all before you’re walking on your own. By the time you’re one, you can run around by yourself.

You have your own room now, too, and between those two things, you’re able to start a new daily ritual. Every single morning starts with a game you like to call, “Find the baby.”

It’s a great way for you to explore the Moby Dick, and it’s an even better way to get your family to calm the fuck down. The first time you play, your dad freaks out completely. There’s a ship-wide alert, emergency calls made to the rest of the fleet, fishmen and non-Devil Fruit users combing the waters around the ship, and after they find you sleeping under a chair in a random crewmate’s room, a full-blown celebration.

They attempt to prevent you from playing again by installing even higher crib walls. So, for the next few days, you get to play your other favorite game of “climb the walls.” The day after that, you get to play “find the baby” again.

Which sets off another round of panic.

Someone who knows nothing about parenting might assume you’re an awful person for scaring them like that. But you have a really good reason; you need them to stop losing their collective shit anytime the slightest thing happens.

And it works.

The fifth time the ship plays “find the baby,” they don’t bother sending anyone into the water. The twelfth time, they’ve already assigned divisions to check each section of the ship. The hundredth time? They decide they’ll go looking for you if you haven’t turned up by breakfast, which you almost always do. And they get rid of the crib entirely because they’ve accepted that you’re going to be letting yourself out of the room regardless, so they might as well lower your risk of breaking an arm by putting you in a normal bed.

You’re two when you meet Jimbei for the first time.

You are out of your mind with excitement. You didn’t really remember what Namur looked like, so he was kind of just a cool-looking fishman, but Jimbei? He looks even cooler in person than he does in the anime.

He’s pleased to meet you, but clearly hesitant to interact with you and you’re not entirely sure why, but this is the first Straw Hat you’ve met (even if he’s not going to be a Straw Hat for a while) and you’re thrilled. You run over to him and throw your arms around his leg before looking up and beaming.

“Unka Jimbei!” you exclaim, smiling as big as you can before raising your arms and demanding, “Up!”

He finally picks you up and is instantly your favorite uncle. You don’t let him put you down the entire visit. He warms up quickly when he figures out that you’re not afraid of him in the least, and starts asking you questions about yourself and your family. Which is really helpful because you haven’t entirely figured out how two-year-olds are supposed to talk, and you’re waiting until you’re four to unleash your vocabulatory prowess.

The next important person you meet is a little while later, one week before your fourth birthday. Which they have decided to celebrate on your “pulled out of a treasure chest day” even though they’re pretty sure you were born 7 days before, but it’s better than being celebrated on your “we decided to keep you around” day.

Your dad has an urgent meeting with the commanders when the lookouts spot the ship in the distance, and you play with your crayons as you pretend not to be listening. You’re a little too excited by what you hear, and you almost blow your cover when they seriously debate sending the ship away. But you pretend it’s because you just dropped a crayon off the table that’s tall enough for your dad to sit at comfortably and make a big fuss until Atmos reaches down to pick it up for you.

Marco flies out first with a warning that if there’s even a second of posturing, the Whitebeards will sink their ship without mercy. He comes back and assures your dad that the message was received. The ship docks beside the Moby Dick and it’s the first time you realize just how big your dad’s ship is.

Your jaw drops and your eyes go wide as the sandals land on deck and a friendly voice teases, “So, do I finally get to know what all the fuss is about?”

You’ve always pictured Shanks as more or less a beach bum. The kind of laid-back guy who’s got everything he needs figured out.

But he is so much more than that. He is a living, breathing legend, with three jagged scars over his eye, and a missing arm that’s still bandaged at the shoulder. It’s first real confirmation you’ve gotten about when you are; Luffy has eaten his Devil Fruit and made a promise that will shake the world.

You stare up in awe, your mouth hanging fully open, as Shanks approaches you. He looks down and sends you a winning smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

You realize that you’re staring and turn away, burying your face in your hands. Without missing a beat, Shanks reaches down and picks you up, tucking you easily against his hip. Your brothers go still, expecting the usual tantrum that happens when anyone picks you up without permission, but it’s Shanks. You’re not made of stone.

“Nice to meet you, little lady. My name’s Shanks. What’s yours?”

You blush and bury your face in his shirt. He laughs and the sound is just as warm and free as you always imagined.

“Can you tell him your name?” your dad prompts encouragingly. You genuinely can’t, Alexandria is a pretty hard name for a not-quite four-year-old to pronounce and you haven’t decided which of the hundreds of nicknames you’ve been given you’d like to go by.

“A… lex…lexuh…” you try your best, but you’re still not that interested in verbal communication and that’s kind of the best you can do.

“Hmm… that’s a pretty hard name to say,” Shanks pretends to frown, and damn this man is good at handling children, “How about I just call you… Cutie pie?”

“No!” you squeal, because you will die of mortification if one of your favorite characters calls you ‘cutie pie’ for the rest of your natural fictional life.

“Hmm, well then how about Ugly pie!” Okay, now he’s just teasing. You can play along.

“Nooooooo!” you slap one of your toddler-sized hands against his chest.

“Okay, okay!” Shanks laughs good-naturedly, “Well then, what should I call you?”

Oh shit, is he making you pick your own nickname? You’ve never been good at that. And this is Shanks, he’s a major recurring character and you just know you’re going to be hearing this nickname again. It’s gotta be something good. Or at least not stupid. Oh shit, you’re taking too long. Just say something. Uh… you should just say Lex, that’s easy to say, but that’s what the second division’s been calling you and if you let them know you have a preference, that’s all they’re going to call you. You don’t want to be Lex your whole life! That’s Superman’s fucking nemesis, you deserve better than that. Okay, so you just need a nickname no one’s called you yet. Crap, uh…. come on, brain, think of something!

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Shanks teases, bouncing you up and down with his one arm. You panic and act on instinct.

“Fwog!” you burst out, pointing to the frog pattern on your shirt. Shanks’ eyes widen in delight and all your brothers, plus the Red-Haired pirates who’ve joined their captain on deck, burst out laughing. Your dad’s laugh is the loudest of all.

“Nice to meet you, froggie,” Shanks teases.

Shit. Did you really just say frog????

“We’ve been wondering why your fleet’s been meeting up so often,” Shanks tells your dad as he bounces you again, “I gotta say, this makes a lot more sense than what we were thinking.”

“I’m impressed the Marines haven’t caught wind of her, yet,” a new voice says, and you turn in Shanks’ arm to see Benn Beckman join his captain. Your dad’s face hardens.

“They’ll find out eventually,” he says soberly. Your stomach tightens; you try not to think about it, but you’re being raised by a notorious pirate crew. The Navy’s had shakier excuses to go after people.

“Well they won’t find out from us, you can count on that,” Shanks swears, “But we’ll definitely be back to visit, I gotta come see my little froggie!”

Oh god. That’s gonna stick. You’ll probably be able to stop it from catching on with your brothers—they are extremely vulnerable to the crocodile tears—but Shanks is going to be calling you “frog” from now until forever.

Shanks and the Red Hair pirates send you a frog plushie for your birthday. You are touched and you truly do love it, but you stick your nose up and “lose it” inside your pillow case so your family thinks you hate it. It’s harsh, but you learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago and you’ll do whatever it takes to avoid being gifted frog-themed presents on every occasion for the rest of your life. Of course in your real life, it was cats, not frogs.

When you’re four, you decide it’s high time you have a Marco phase. There’s a lot of reasons for this. The first is that obviously it will be really cute. You know that your family will get a kick out of watching you follow Marco literally everywhere and in fact, they do. Marco is also a good person to pick because four years old is the perfect time to have your “Why” phase, which for those unfamiliar is a period of time in which a young child responds to anything and everything with the question, “Why?” Marco is the best choice for this because he is an endless source of information and knows the answers to more questions than anyone else on the ship. It’s also a really helpful way to test his limits; how long he’ll patiently answer, when he’ll start giving shorter answers, when he’s completely fed up, and how he decides to get you to shut up.

“Why do you have fire?”

“It’s from my Devil Fruit.”

“Why?”

“Because I ate the phoenix fruit.”

“Why?”

“Because I decided to eat it.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have a lot of choices at the time.”

You frown and tug at his arm.

“Why?”

Marco’s face starts to get a little pinched.

“Because the island I lived on was going through a difficult time.”

“Why?”

Marco attempts to explain the concept of corrupt monarchy to a four-year-old, which you appreciate in principle, but you honestly aren’t even listening anymore. If they ever find out that you’ve actually been a full-grown adult the whole time, this phase is one of the things you will be specifically apologizing for.

After one very long day when you pester him with questions about every single thing you see and his eyes are starting to get a little bit twitchy, he solves the problem by scooping you up and tickling you until you’re laughing too hard to talk. Toddler you is unfortunately extremely ticklish, so this is a very effective tactic.

You let him have the victory for a few days, but just when he starts getting comfortable, you flip the script. The next time he tries tickling you, you slap his hands away and shout, “NO!” at the top of your little lungs. Then you start crying because you are trying to act like a normal child and one thing normal four-year-olds do is throw tantrums. 

Also because the look of panic on Marco’s face is priceless.

Chapter Text

By the time you’re five, you’ve got a good enough handle on motor skills that you decide it’s time to start taking things more seriously. You start off small by following certain brothers around. You spend a lot more time with Thatch, both in the kitchen and out, and Haruta when he leaves the communications room, and Vista and Atmos and Fossa and anyone from the fifth division.

It takes your bemused family a little while to figure out what the common thread is. You give them a hint by dropping down from one of the lower masts and swinging your stick at Vista’s head. He reacts with plenty of time, easily catching you in one hand and gently disarming you with the other.

“Al, what is this?” he asks in amusement. You give him a big smile and kick your legs out in the air.

“My sword!”

“Ah, I see.” Vista holds the stick up in the air and turns it from side to side before nodding. He sets you down on your feet and hands the stick back, patting you on the shoulder, “It’s a fine blade, excellent craftsmanship.”

You bounce on your feet and swing your stick back and forth until Vista chuckles and kneels down.

“Easy with that swing, you’re going to take someone’s eye out,” he corrects your stance, nudging your feet apart, “Try it like this.”

Not everyone is as encouraging about your new hobby as Vista is. Marco is not pleased by your habit of swinging a stick at everyone who comes near you on the deck (and you’re not sure that this is the best plan, but you did outright ask your dad to teach you to use a sword and he did not say yes).

“I’ll take that, yoi,” he says as he plucks your stick sword out of your hand.

“Marcoooooo! No fair!” you whine, trying to grab it back.

“Lexa, you’re going to hurt someone,” Marco counters immediately. You lunge for the stick and Marco grabs the back of your shirt, hoisting you up by your collar like a kitten.

“Give it!!!” you demand, still grabbing for your weapon. Your protest falls on deaf ears as Marco hands your stick sword off to one of the members of his division.

“You can have it back later, yoi,” he tells you as he carries you towards the door that leads inside, “But right now, someone is in desperate need of a bath.”

“Nooooooo!!!!!”

“Lexa, where did you get that?” Marco demands. You hide your sword behind your back.

“Get what?”

“Lexa.” Marco warns, holding his hand out and making a “fork it over” gesture. Unhappily, you give him your stick.

Marco looks at it and sighs when he sees that it is not the same stick he confiscated from you that morning. Or any of the other eight sticks he’s taken from you this week.

“Lexa, we’re in the middle of the ocean, where are you even finding these?”

He’s right to wonder. And you will not be telling him. The answer involves sneaking out of your room during naptime the last time your family was docked at one of the islands in their territory and hunting for good stick swords in the woods behind the not-so-little cottage and slipping them into a cargo crate that was scheduled to be loaded into the Moby’s hull. You stocked up on a lot of sticks.

You point to your open mouth and Marco gives you a look of pure bafflement.

“I’m hungry!” you exclaim.

“Lexa, come on. Where are you getting these?”

“Huh?” you ask cluelessly. Marco sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. While he’s distracted, you make a break for it. You don’t make it very far before your big brother scoops you up around the middle and hoists you over his shoulder. You shriek with laughter at the sudden movement, especially when he tickles your exposed stomach.

“Come on, you little monkey. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Thatch brings it up at the end of the next commanders meeting by clearing his throat and “subtly” nodding his head at where you’re busy drawing a picture next to your dad.

“So, Pops, uh… it seems like S-O-M-E-O-N-E has been wanting to learn to use an S-W-O-R-D.”

“I’ve noticed,” your dad answers curtly. His hand comes up to wrap all the way around you and you look up at him curiously.

“What’s a worts?” you ask like you don’t know how to spell the word sword. Your dad smiles at you but it doesn’t reach all the way to his eyes.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he assures you. The other commanders exchange looks.

“Pops, it might not be the worst idea to start her out,” Curiel suggests, “Some ground rules especially might cut down on any more… whacking incidents.”

Heh. Yeah, there’s been a bunch of those. In your defense, you’ve been pretty clear on the fact that you’re going to be standing on that section of deck swinging a stick around. If your brothers wanted to not get whacked with a stick so badly, they shouldn’t have gotten so close to the spot you were actively practicing in. While you have that thought, Thatch bends down to rub his ankle where you got him (by accident!!!) with a branch a few days ago.

“I do not think that’s an appropriate activity for a five-year-old,” your dad says. The commanders exchange looks again. Ugh, why can’t any of them just say what they’re thinking, it would make things go a lot faster. Izou clears his throat.

“Appropriate or not, she’s certainly determined to do it.”

Thank you, Izou! You are determined to do it.

“I haven’t seen her without a stick in weeks,” Jozu adds.

“She finds those things faster than we can get rid of ‘em,” Fossa agrees. The other commanders nod. You hide your smirk behind your hand. They’ve gotten their hands on a big chunk of your stash, but you still have dozens more.

“Pops, I think you should at least consider it,” Marco says. You’re surprised he’s taking your side after all the sticks you’ve put him through in the last few weeks. “I still have no idea how she’s getting her hands on them and they’re just pieces of wood. What if she finds something sharp next? I’d feel a lot better if she had some basic handling skills.”

The other commanders voice their enthusiastic agreement and you feel a little bad because this is clearly something they’ve all been worrying about.

Your dad sighs.

“Andrea?” he asks gently. You lean your whole body against his hand before looking up. He supports your weight easily and you tap your hands against his highest finger, humming quietly to complete the image of a child who hasn’t been paying attention to anything.

“Yah dad?”

“Where have you been finding all of those sticks?”

Well, you’re not going to lie to your dad. So instead, you shrug.

“Um I just founded them,” you answer vacantly with the innocence of a small child.

“Do you have more of them?”

“Ahuh!” you nod happily.  

“Where are they?”

“Um…” you pretend to think, and then pretend to get distracted by tugging at his hand. You jump up and down a little because you’re a hyperactive five-year-old and then you answer, “All around!”

Your dad breathes out sharply and you can feel his frustration because that was not the answer he wanted to hear. Vista clears his throat.

“I’m happy to take the lead on this, Pops. We have plenty of training weapons, she can learn on wood,” Vista offers.

“I can too,” Thatch adds.

“Me too!” Haruta says

“Same here,” Fossa nods.

Aww, your brothers are really the best. But unfortunately, it’s not up to them. You look up at your dad curiously; you have no idea if they think you’re still in the dark about what they’re discussing, but you’re pretty sure that saying anything won’t help your case.

Your dad frowns and the hand around you tightens ever so slightly. It makes you uncomfortable. Not because it hurts, but because you’ve been trying to get him past the over-protectiveness.

“Wooden swords only,” he finally decides.

Izou has the brilliant idea to make you a little karate uniform. It’s all white with a little white belt, blue wave decals embroidered on the cuffs, and the crew’s Jolly Roger on the back because every piece of clothing you own has your dad’s mark on it. After he helps you put it on for the first time, he sits you down and gives you a very dramatic speech about the Way of the Samurai and responsibility and legacy and it’s a very cleverly packaged way to ensure that the five-year-old understands the concept of knife safety. You were always going to take it seriously, but the whole thing is a great excuse for you showing up to all of your sword training lessons ready to lock the fuck in.

You pick sword fighting up pretty damn fast for a five-year-old. Vista is incredibly impressed by how seriously you take your lessons and you haven’t been watching all the swordsmen on the ship train for nothing. It’s not long before you’ve flown through the beginner lessons and he starts moving you on to more advanced techniques.

The only problem is, Vista and the other commanders who’ve been allowed to teach you refuse to move past low-contact. On the rare occasions that you’re allowed to “spar” with them, you’re confronted head-on with just how much they’re holding back on you. Even when you put everything you have into sneaking a blow past their guard, they never do more than gently tap you in return.

It’s a problem. You’re definitely improving and you’re getting faster every day, but you’re not getting stronger. And you can forget about learning Haki at this rate; you’re not in any danger.

For now, you try not to focus on that. You’re still little, there’s still plenty of time. So you throw yourself into mastering the techniques and practicing with your little wooden sword until Marco decides it’s time for a break. At night, after your dad has finished telling you a bedtime story and tucking you in, you climb out of bed and practice all your sets with the pair of weights you snuck out of the training room. You can only use a few pounds so far, but you’re steadily working up to heavier weights.

Jimbei gives you an opportunity you’ve been waiting for. The next time he and the Sun Pirates meet up with your family on another Whitebeard-protected island, you run at him full speed in your karate uniform that you rarely go without and launch yourself into his arms. That’s one of your favorite things about the pirates you’re growing up with: you can throw yourself around as much as you want and they always catch you.

“UNCLE JIMBEI!” you cheer, hugging him excitedly, “Teach me karate!”

Jimbei laughs heartily and hugs you tighter.

“How can I say no to a request like that?” he laughs, and sets to work teaching you the basics of Fishman Karate.

Your dad is not particularly happy to find out that Jimbei agreed to teach you to fight without his permission, but here’s the best part about Jimbei being your uncle; he’s not actually part of Whitebeard’s crew. Which means unlike all your brothers and sisters, your dad doesn’t get the final say when it comes to Jimbei’s decision-making.

Jimbei still bows his head respectfully.

“I meant no offense, Whitebeard,” he apologizes when he sees that your dad is well-and-truly upset, “I saw no harm in her request and I must admit, she is an exceptional student.”

“Dad, dad, dad, look!” you shout, trying to distract him before he can pull you away. You drop into the stance Jimbei showed you, pulling your arms back with a look of intense concentration on your face that you just know is an absolutely adorable sight on a small child. “Ten thousand brick FIST!”

You punch the air as hard as you can, completing the move to the best of your ability. Instead of the awe-inspiring force Jimbei is capable of, you just make a tiny bit of wind. But you nailed the form— all you’re missing is the physical strength— and so you beam at your dad and jump up and down in excitement.

“Did you see?!” you call, looking up at him with the biggest smile you can manage. Your dad hesitates, clearly at war with himself. He hates the idea of letting you fight but he can’t stand the thought of upsetting you. It’s clear when one side wins because he smiles at you with so much warmth you feel like you’re glowing with it and scoops you up in his hand.

“That was wonderful,” he praises. You throw yourself at him, hugging the side of his face because that’s the part you can reach.

After that, Namur takes up teaching you Fishman Karate. He’s not as good of a teacher as Jimbei but he’s allowed to teach you and that’s a big step. You’re still not making any progress on the full-contact sparring front, so you’ll take everything you can get.

By the time you’re seven, you’re getting weekly sword fighting lessons, karate lessons, and basic hand-to-hand training. Which is all definitely better than nothing, but your dad has not budged on a couple things. You’re still not allowed to use anything but a wooden sword, there’s almost no contact ever, and only the Commanders are allowed to train with you because your dad just can’t trust that the rest of the crew won’t accidentally injure you.

It's definitely frustrating but you try to consider where he’s coming from. It’s not like he isn’t letting you learn at all, you’re still getting hours and hours of combat training every week. And you’re only seven. It’s not unreasonable that he’s worried about accidental injury if he lets you train with New World pirates who don’t have the same level of control as the commanders do.

So you do your best to focus on what you can. You keep taking your training as seriously as you always have, and your brothers encourage you and heap you with praise and help you along as best as they can. And when you watch them spar each other, especially when the commanders are involved and double especially when your dad decides to join, they all show off for you, which is incredibly thrilling and never gets old.

You watch those fights like a goddamn hawk; you know that the monstrous clashing blows and shockwaves that blast out are from their Haki, and part of awakening your Haki is being able to physically see the Armament. You can’t see it, no matter how hard you try, but just knowing it’s there gives you something to focus on.

You don’t spend all your time training either. Your days are jam-packed. You help Thatch in the kitchen, stirring and measuring and pouring and carefully cutting up vegetables under his watchful eye, you sit on Marco’s lap and listen carefully as he helps you with your “school” lessons, you go swimming with Namur and the other fishmen whenever there’s a clear patch of sea, you play dress-up with Izou and let him teach you how to sew, you hang out with your sisters and bask in the presence of other women (but only in their quarters and common spaces, the only way you set foot in the infirmary is if you’re dragged there kicking and screaming because you are not going to be a nurse), you play games and listen to stories and read books and get into mischief and let yourself be showered in attention and affection from your family.

And just about every night, you snuggle up with your dad and drift off to sleep as he tells you as story.

It’s not long after that when the incident happens.

You’re not surprised. You’ve known something like this would happen eventually. You’re mostly upset because it isn’t your fault at all.

As much as the Whitebeard pirates are happy to sail their territories in peace, they are the Strongest Crew in the World for a reason. While you’ve been busy growing up, the Whitebeards have been defending their territory, clashing with others crews, taking on Marines, and going off on missions. It’s rare that there’s an attack on the actual Moby, but when it happens, you make a beeline for the nearest commander and let them carry you belowdecks to safety until the fight’s over.  You know your dad is a little surprised that you’ve never argued about it, but you’re not stupid. You’re not strong enough to fight in the New World and you don’t want to get in the way.

Which is why the incident is so frustrating when it actually happens.

It’s on an island. You’re hanging out with Blamenco’s division, sitting on a picnic blanket eating an orange while you watch your brothers scurry around packing up repair parts for the section of the deck that got damaged in a firefight. Everything is calm.

The only Marine outpost is all the way on the other side of the island and they’re supposed to know better than to mess with the Whitebeards. You aren’t doing anything wrong; you’re surrounded by your brothers and quietly having a healthy snack.

That’s when a swarm of Marines rushes the clearing with their swords drawn, charging at your brothers with all the fervor you remember from the show. Hands grab you from behind and yank you up into the air.

“We’ve got her!” the Marine holding you shouts.

“You sick bastards!” the captain with the extra stripes on his uniform spits at your brothers, “Kidnapping children?! Is anything beneath you monsters?!”

“Let me go!” you shout, thrashing in his hold uselessly.  

“Lexie, it’s okay!” Blamenco calls out to you, trying his best to calm you down even as his gigantic mallet sweeps an entire row of Marines off their feet, “You’re okay, they’re not going to hurt you!”

But they’re trying to hurt your brothers!

You inhale, taking the biggest breath of your life, and then you scream at the top of your impressively strong lungs.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Predictably, your scream summons every single Whitebeard pirate on the island. Your dad appears like a vengeful god. He’s incandescent with rage that anyone would dare lay a hand on his child.

The Tremor Tremor fruit is cool. Scary. But cool.

Your dad does not put you down the rest of the day. He holds in you in his hand like he did when you were a baby and his gaze is far away as he stares out over the water. You put up with it because you’ve never seen him this upset before, and you sympathize for what he’s feeling.

He’s afraid of anything happening to you. To find you being held by a Marine, surrounded by dozens of others who are trying to take you away from him, that has to have been terrifying. You’re frustrated, though. That was your first real fight, the first chance you’ve had to try and defend yourself, and instead of fighting back you screamed for help. And you know it was the right decision because everyone walked away safely, but how are you supposed to get stronger if you can’t even fight off one Marine?

Your frustration builds and builds until it boils over. You burst out crying in the middle of the night, not because you’re trying to act like a normal child or because it’s at all intentional, but because you are genuinely upset and overwhelmed.

Your dad wakes immediately and sits up, careful not to disturb you from where you’re lying on his chest.

“Andrea, what is it?” he asks. His hand rubs your back with a level of care and precision that shouldn’t be possible from someone his size. You’re crying too hard to answer, tears and snot running down your face and you twist your hands into the fabric of his shirt, hating yourself for crying because you have never felt so pathetic in your life. You’re not really eight. You’re not really a child. But you’re acting like one, really acting like one, not just pretending to be one, and you are humiliated and angry at yourself and more than anything you are so, so, so scared because all you want is to save the Whitebeards from what you know is coming and at this rate, you won’t be able to do a single thing.

“I want to be strong!” you sob. You can’t say anything else. Not just because you’re crying too hard, but because you’re terrified of opening your mouth again and telling him everything. No matter how much he loves you, how could he possibly believe a sobbing eight-year-old hysterically crying that she’s from another universe and he and everyone he loves are just fictional characters and they’re all going to die because one of his sons is a traitor?

Your dad just holds you close and lets you cry it out, and when you wake up, he’s still holding you.

At breakfast, your eyes are still red and raw and the whole crew is somber. Haruta enters the mess hall like a phantom, his face as pale as a sheet as he approaches the commander’s table with a roll of paper in his hand.

“Pops…” he chokes out, handing over the poster. Your dad unrolls it and you can’t breathe.

You used to wonder if suddenly finding yourself in the body of a baby meant you were now an entirely different person, but no, you’re still you. Just… smaller. As you stare at the poster numbly, your face stares back at you.

“Edward Alexandria, the Emperor’s Daughter,” the bounty poster reads, “Alive Only.”

Your dad surprises you. When you show up to the training room for your next sword fighting lessons, he and all nine commanders currently on the ship are waiting for you.

“I have something for you,” he says. You blink up at him. Nobody has said anything to you about your bounty poster; you’re old enough now that you’re not allowed into the important meetings anymore. But you know how hard your family worked to keep your existence secret from the Marines and you know how bad it is that your face is now on posters all across the world. You don’t know what will happen to you if the Marines capture you; they probably won’t kill you. You are an innocent child.

But you are an innocent child that could be used as leverage against the most powerful pirate fleet in the world.

Your family won’t let that happen, though.

“What is it?” you ask, stepping closer. Your dad holds out his fist. All your brothers are smiling at you in encouragement, so you keep going until you’re right in front of your dad. He opens his hand and presents you with your very own, very real sword.

You think the sword is a turning point.

It’s not.

Now that there’s real blades involved, your brothers are even more paranoid about hurting you in training. Low contact sparring turns into “absolutely zero contact” and you can’t say anything about how frustrated that makes you because you’ve only just gotten a real sword and you don’t want it to get taken away.

You’re still training as hard you can, in your lessons with your brothers, in the training room when there’s people to supervise you, and at night with your stash of hidden weights, but no matter how good your technique is and how lightning fast your reflexes are becoming, your strength just isn’t catching up.

And you’re no closer to unlocking your Haki. You’ve tried a lot of things; even going as far as tying lots of cans to pieces of string in one of the pantries and trying to make your way through it blindfolded. You actually tried that one a lot, especially during choppy weather, and all you got for your trouble was a fuck ton of bruises and a series of lectures from your dad, from Marco, and even from Thatch because you accidentally knocked over an entire row of jars and wasted quite a lot of food. (And you definitely deserved that lecture, it was an accident but you should have been more careful.)

You’re so frustrated that you start asking anyone who’ll listen to fight with you. There are many of your brothers that you don’t know particularly well, and you’re hopeful that the little bit of separation will mean they missed the memo that they’re not allowed to fight you.

But without fail, every single one of them gives you a look of utter self-preservation and says something along the lines of, “Sorry Lexa/Lex/Lexie/Al/Allie/Andy/Andry.”

It.

Sucks.

You’re moping in a hallway in one of the lower levels of the Moby that’s too small for your dad to fit in comfortably when one of your brothers walks by. You feel a hand pat you on the head and a voice you sort of recognize says, “Aw, what’s the matter, Lex?”

You must be near the Second Division’s quarters, they’re the ones who call you that. You don’t raise your head from your arms because you don’t need to see another pitying smile.

Instead, you mumble, “No one will fight with me.”

“Oh, is that all? I’ll fight with you.”

What?!

You jerk your head up, heart pounding with excitement as you smile at your new favorite bro—

Teach is smiling at you.

You choke on your excitement and just stare at him. You’ve been avoiding Teach for your entire life, you want nothing to do with the traitorous bastard who’s going to kill your favorite brother and lead your family to their deaths. Your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“I’m not much of a swordsman though, I only do hand-to-hand.”

You should say no. You should run back upstairs and keep never talking to Teach ever again.

…but you need to get stronger. What better way to do it than fight with someone you genuinely believe might hurt you?

“…dad says I’m only allowed to fight with commanders,” you mumble. Teach just laughs.

“Eh, what Pops doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

He holds out his hand to you and offers, “Come on. I know a spot that’ll be empty.”

Oh…this is a big fucking mistake. You know this is a mistake. You should go find your dad right now and rat Teach out for being willing to go behind his back and get him kicked off the ship ten years early. But if you do, Teach will be out there doing god knows what and you’ll lose any advantage you have in knowing future events. And your chance to get stronger.

You should not do this.

You take Teach’s hand.

Chapter Text

The Moby Dick is docked at the biggest island in a cluster of islands. Thatch is carrying you around on his shoulders while he supervises his division taking inventory. His frown keeps getting deeper as he figures out that there’s some things that the ship is critically low on.

You don’t really think anything about it until he heads over to your dad and Marco and tells them that they’ll need to send a division out for a supply run.

“Alright,” Marco nods, flipping through his book, “Uh… not the tenth, they just got back. Okay, I’ll send the second.”

You jump, sticking your hand straight up in the air. The movement makes you lose your balance and you nearly topple off Thatch’s shoulder until he catches your legs.

“Can I go with them?!” you beg your dad, eyes shining with excitement.

Your dad’s eyebrows rise. He and Marco exchange glances.

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” your dad says honestly.

“Lexa, it won’t be an interesting mission, yoi. They’re just picking up some more dry goods, they’ll be back in a week,” Marco adds.

“But I never get to go! It’s only a week and it’s close!” you protest, before pointing at Marco and adding, “And you can fly anywhere on the cluster and back in no time! That’s what you said!”

“Andrea,” your dad starts. But a couple members of the Second Division were already walking over when Marco waved for them, and by now they’re close enough to hear the conversation.

“Pops?” One of your brothers asks, “We’d, uh, we’d love to take her along.”

The rest of your brothers nod in agreement.

“Since we don’t have a commander, we don’t get to see her much.”

“And she’s right. It’s close, it’s a basic resupply, and we already know everyone in the area.”

“Plus Commander Marco can be there in minutes if we need anything.”

“Please????????????” you finish, giving your dad your very best puppy eyes that you only break out under critical circumstances. Your dad looks at you (and tries to resist), then he looks at your brothers in the Second Division who are equally hopeful, and then he sighs.

“Alright. You can go with them.”

“Yay!!!!! Thank you dad, you’re the best I love you!!!!!!”

The trip is so fun. You really don’t get to spend a lot of time with the Second Division and your brothers are thrilled to have you all to themselves. They play games with you and teach you pirate shanties and give you piggy-back rides and sneak you more candy than Thatch would ever allow you to have (which is amazing because one of the very best parts of re-being a child is that you have a sweet tooth again).

It’s really great.

But it’s not the reason you wanted to come.

That comes later, when the ship docks at the port of a smaller island and your brothers disembark to go gather supplies. The brother who volunteered to watch you for the afternoon takes your hand.

“You ready?” Teach asks. You nod.

Teach leads you to a secluded part of the island where there’s a big flat area. And for the first time in this entire life, you get to have a full-contact, no-holds barred fight.

You’ve been sparring with Teach for a little while now but you always have to be careful. The Moby Dick is crawling with siblings who will immediately tell your dad if you get caught. But here, your dad is on another island, the rest of the division is busy for the entire day, and Teach is willing to give it his all.

And son-of-a-bitch, he does not hold back. You already know there’s something wrong with him but what kind of person doesn’t even hesitate to punch an eight-year-old in the stomach? You’re not complaining though. You’re not really eight and you really, really need this fight.

Over the course of the afternoon, you get bruised to all fucking shit. You also get a bunch of good hits in and Teach coaches you through your attacks in his own way. He isn’t kind when you make a mistake you shouldn’t have and he tells you when you impress him, and maybe it shouldn’t, but it makes you understand what works and what goes wrong even as he casually beats the snot out of you.

He’s using Haki. He didn’t even question it when you told him to. And you can really feel the difference from when the commanders “spar” with you. There’s an urgency to the fight, like there's something living inside each movement that makes everything more intense. It makes your heart pound and adrenaline rush through your veins.

The sun is getting low over the horizon and red and orange light glints through the trees. Teach’s fist comes flying at you and just before you raise your arms to block, the light reflects off his fist like it’s made of glass.

Your eyes widen.

His fist buries itself in your chest and the shockwave blows you off your feet, sending you crashing backwards into a tree. You fall out of the crater and the world is spinning and everything hurts and it’s hard to breathe and your mouth hurts just as much as your chest and there’s something weird on your tongue.

You open your mouth and blood drips out. Along with one of your front teeth.

“Oof, you got a little…” Teach makes a face, pointing at the gap in your teeth, but you don’t even care. It takes you a second to get your bearings, but the instant you do, you jump to your feet and smile so wide it makes your face hurt.

“I SAW IT!” you exclaim, “YOU USED HAKI!”

Teach’s eyes widen and he’s not pretending to be impressed when he says, “Hey! Not bad, kid!”

You take another second to bask in your victory because being able to see Armament Haki is one of the first signs of Awakening your Haki. And then you realize that you’re missing a tooth and your mouth is bleeding and you are covered from head to toe in bruises.

Your dad is going to flip.

When you make it back to the supply ship, you’ve figured out how to handle this.

“Look, look, look, look, look!” you shout before anyone even sees you, waving your missing tooth in the air, “I lost a tooth!”

One of your brothers drops a crate. Another gasps. They’re all staring at you in horror.

“Lex, what the hell happened?!”

“Teach, you were supposed to be watching her!”

“I was!” Teach protests.

“Then what happened?!”

“I ran into a tree!” you announce proudly, still beaming in excitement, “And my tooth fell out! How much do you think the tooth fairy is gonna bring me?!”

Your brothers are not so easily swayed by your enthusiasm, even if you are clearly delighted by the day’s events.

“Teach,” the brother who’s officially in charge of the mission moans before letting his head thwack against the mast, “Pops is gonna kill us.”

“We have to tell him. He’ll throw us off the ship if we don’t.”

“Oh, forget Pops, Marco’s gonna kill us!”

“We’re deaddddddd,” the most dramatic of the whole bunch moans.

“Hi dad!”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi Izou!!!”

“Are you having fun?” your dad asks warmly. You smile excitedly, showing off your missing tooth for the snail.

“YEAH!” you cheer, “I lost my tooth! And we played games and ate candy and saw lots of birds and—”

“You lost a tooth?” Izou interrupts.

“Ahuh!” you stick your tongue through the toothless gap. “See?”

“How did that happen?” your dad does not sound happy.

“I ran into a tree!”

“Um, Pops, uh… you might want to send Commander Marco out to come meet us,” the brother in charge of this mission says hesitantly.

The snail’s eyes sharpen.

“What happened.”

“She seems fine, she had a lot of fun but… it seems like it was… kind of… a big tree.”

“It was so big!” you exclaim, throwing your arms out wide like you’re not even aware that there’s another conversation going on, “How much money do you think the tooth fairy is gonna bring me?!”

“Give me a second, Andrea,” your dad says.

“Okay!”

Marco touches down in ten minutes flat. By the look on his face, he broke the sound barrier flying here.

“Marco! Look, I lost my tooth!”

Your big brother takes in the terrified expressions of the Second Division members, turns around to see you beaming as you proudly hold out your missing tooth, and his mouth literally falls open.

“Lexa, what the fu—what happened?!”

He crosses the distance between you in an instant, his healing flames already working on the massive bruises covering your arms and spreading under your clothes. He pushes your shirt up and his expression turns into utter shock.

You don’t blame him.

Your body is about 98% bruise right now. The Haki-bruises are dark purple and cover most of your chest, spreading into the other bruises in a way that makes blood seep out from the small cuts littering your skin. It hurts a lot, by the way, but your ability to keep training your Haki depends on you pretending it doesn’t.

Short of killing a crewmate, deliberately injuring you is the worst possible offense a Whitebeard could commit. If anyone finds out Teach did this to you—whether or not you wanted him to—he’ll be banished from the crew in a heartbeat. There are many reasons that you can’t let that happen.

“Lexa, what did you do?! Did you fall out of a tree?!”

“No,” you say quietly. Wait, hang on, technically you did if you count the crater in the side of the tree. “Yes?”

“How big was the tree?!” Marco shouts, half-hysterical as he covers your chest in healing flames.

You are not allowed to go anywhere with the Second Division anymore.

You’re ten the next time the Moby gets invaded. You’re practicing with Thatch on deck while your dad supervises when the lookout calls a warning and Rakuyo slams a cannonball out of the way with his mace.

“Thatch!” your dad orders, and Thatch sheaths his swords immediately, and calls, “Got it, Pops!”

With that, he scoops you up and carries you below deck.

“Let go!” you protest, trying to get free and not lose your grip on your sword. When Thatch notices you struggling, he plucks the sword out of your hand and tucks it into his sash. Your brothers run past you, heading up the stairs towards the fight, but Thatch just keeps going until he reaches your room. He tosses you gently on your bed, closes the door and pushes a chair in front of it before sitting down.

You stare at him in disbelief. You’re not five anymore!

“What are you doing?!”

“You know the drill, Ali-gator, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you,” Thatch shakes his head before shooting you a grin, “But look on the bright side! You get to hang out with your favorite brother!”

“Thatch!”

“That’s me!”

You climb off your bed and stomp your foot down.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

“And I don’t need to be yelled at by someone I’m trying to keep safe because I love her, so I guess we’re both out of luck.”

You roll your eyes and scowl.

“You should be out there!”

“Captain’s orders, kiddo. Keeping you safe is the most important thing I can do.”

“What if they need you?!” you yell.

Thatch sighs and stands up, crossing your room in a few paces. You yelp as he snatches you up in a princess carry and sits down on your bed, hugging you tight while keeping your legs pressed against your chest. Your face burns. You know from experience there’s no point trying to get free; Thatch may be a ridiculous goofball but he’s monstrously strong and his arms might as well be made out of steel.

“And what if you need me, huh? You’re one tough kid, but it’s not your job to take care of mean old smelly gross pirates like that. So we’re just gonna hang out here together until they’re gone, ‘kay?”

You clench your teeth so you don’t say what you’re thinking, which is a combination of expletives that Thatch will not be pleased to hear, and glare at the door. Thatch somehow frees one of his hands while still holding you immobile and tickles your nose.

“Aaaaaaaaaalli-gator?” Thatch teases, tickling your nose again and holding you even tighter as you squirm because your stupid body is still so ticklish, “You listening?”

“No!” you snap, trying not to laugh, “Stop it!”

“Aww, don’t be like that. Here, why don’t you pick something for me to read to you?”

He stops tickling you and lets you slide down onto the bed. You just glare at him. Your family is being attacked on deck right now, Thatch should be up there! What if they need him? How can he expect you to just sit here and listen to fairy tales?

You’re about to spit something along those lines at him when he turns around to look at your bookshelf and you see his back.

It’s exposed.

Suddenly, you’re not thinking about the enemy pirates. You’re thinking about Ace’s flashback and Thatch’s friendly grin before he’s lying facedown on deck, a knife sticking out of his back, deep red blood soaking the deck all around him.

You shiver.

You can’t help the cold feeling in your stomach that makes you launch yourself at your big brother, hugging him tight around the middle and squeezing your eyes shut like that will keep his death away.

“Is that him?!” you demand, leaning on your tip toes to see over the railing better. Izou chuckles and puts a hand on your hair that he just finished braiding.

“I’d guess so,” he answers, laughing again when you nearly topple over from excitement, “I haven’t met him though, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“And where’s Uncle Jimbei?!” you ask, looking down at the beach. Izou raises a finger and points towards the blue blob lying in the sand.

“Seems like Uncle Jimbei’s all worn out,” Izou says. You pout.

“I wanted to show him my karate!” you whine.

“Maybe next time, honey. He did just spend five days fighting.”

“That’s so long,” you say, and you mean it, that’s truly a ridiculous number of days in a row to fight someone.

“Hey Commander Izou, they’re coming back!” One of your brothers calls. Izou keeps his hand on your head as your dad walks up the gangway, an unconscious, very teenaged Ace thrown over his shoulder.

“I like his hat,” you say.

“It is quite orange,” Izou comments, and it is clear he does not share your or Ace’s taste in hats.

“When can I say hi?” you ask.

“Let’s give it a few days, alright?” When you nod, Izou pats your head one more time and holds out his hand, “Come on, it’s almost time for lunch.”

You take Izou’s hand and let him lead you away, pretending not to notice that the rest of the commanders are busy herding the Spade pirates into a line at sword point. They’ll be fine.

It’s equal parts hilarious and insulting that your brothers think they can keep you from realizing that the Moby’s new “guest” is actively trying to murder your dad.

Seriously, do they think that you won’t notice when they suddenly offer to spar? Or remember something they need to grab below deck and you should come with them because it’ll just take a second? Or all the fucking holes in the ship?

The constant yelling?

The splashing?

You’re not a moron.

Also, you already knew to begin with. So, there is that.

Given the fact that your dad isn’t in any danger, you kind of enjoy yourself for the first few days. Everyone is so focused on dealing with Ace that you get away with literally everything you want. Your brothers are just so relieved that you’re staying out of Ace’s line of fire that they don’t think about where you are.

You take excellent advantage of that.

“Why are you trying to kill my dad?” you ask bluntly. Ace jumps, whirling around and brandishing his flaming arms. You just stare at him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

Ah, manners. Makino clearly taught him well.

“I’m Alexandria. Who are you?”

Ace blinks. He looks astonished that anyone on this ship could not already know the answer to that. Obviously, you do, but you can’t pass up a chance to mess with him.

“I’m Ace.”

“Okay.”

You walk past him and lie down across his bed, your head hanging over the side as you stare up at the ceiling.

“That’s… what are you doing? That’s my bed, get off!”

“No it’s not.”

“Uh, yes it is?”

“No it isn’t. You don’t live here.”

“Who the hell are you?!” Ace snaps, more out of confusion than any actual anger.

“I already told you. You’re stupid!”

“Am not! You’re stupid!”

Oof, this is too easy. Although, it’s not really fair to him. The bags under his eyes are disturbingly dark, it doesn’t seem like he’s slept in days.

You stick your tongue out at him and taunt, “I know you are, but what am I?”

Ace ignites, fire pouring off his arms.

“Get the hell out!” he growls, stepping towards you to make his threat clear.

You flip over so you’re right-side up and give him a look that you hope he’ll be able to interpret as, “fuck around and find out.”

Then your face crumples and you use the skill that has served you faithfully all these years; you burst out crying.

Ace panics. The fire extinguishes and he stares at you in helpless concern.

“Hey, wait, uh… hang on! Uh, Alex, right? I didn’t mean… uh… I was just—”

The door slams open with a deafening crash that shakes the whole room. Marco’s in his half-transformed Zoan form, with flaming wings for arms and razor-sharp talons for feet and a look on his face that promises instant death. Izou, Thatch and Haruta charge into the room on his heels, all of them wearing matching expressions of thunder and rage. You can see dozens of your brothers outside the door, weapons out, ready for blood.

You hold out your hands towards Thatch and he “rescues” you, picking you up and tucking you against his side. You bury your face in his shirt, letting your cries fade.

There’s a rustling sound that you recognize as Marco yanking someone up by the front of their shirt.

“Do that again,” Marco hisses. You’ve never heard him so furious in your life. “And you die.”

Then there’s a thud.

You almost feel bad. Almost.

Instead of feeling bad, you turn your face to the side to see Ace knocked to his ass on the ground, staring up at your furious brothers in baffled shock. He glances at you and sees you looking at him.

In the last second before Thatch carries you out, you smirk.

Ace’s jaw drops.

The immediate aftermath of “the Incident” is that Ace… becomes petrified of upsetting you. And honestly, it only has a little bit to do with all of your brothers threatening to tear him limb from limb.

Ace just genuinely does not know what to do with little girls. The saddest part is, you’re not even that little. He doesn’t know how lucky he is that you’re not five. He’d be a goner.

Point is, he’s careful to time his assassination attempts to when you are absolutely nowhere near. When he sees you on deck or in the mess hall or in the hallways, his face goes pale and he immediately turns around and disappears.

You spend an entire day on your dad’s lap just to watch the look on Ace’s face when he leaps at your dad with a flaming fist, sees you sitting there, and falls flat on his face before backpedaling away so fast he leaves skid marks on the deck. It’s hilarious.

It’s about three weeks into Ace’s stay on the Moby when you find him sitting on the roof of the cabin with his head buried in his knees. He looks absolutely, completely, pathetically miserable.

He doesn’t look up when you hoist yourself onto the roof. But he does look up when you plop yourself down next to him and shove a book into his arms.

“Read to me,” you demand as you lean into his side and set your head on his lap.

Ace stares down at you in frozen shock. You can’t even begin to figure out what kinds of alarm bells are going off in his brain. But he slowly opens the book. For a single second, his eyes land on you, but when he sees you looking, they jump back onto the book. Ace coughs slightly and starts reading.

It’s an amazing thing. No matter how many times Ace tries to kill your dad, no matter how many times he snaps at your brothers and pushes them away, he does not tell you “no” even a single time. You’re not even sure that he can. He’s utterly helpless.

Of course, just because Ace is here doesn’t mean your problems are fixed. Your dad has just finished refusing for the hundredth time after you ask him to let you join Vista’s division for their weekly training when Ace appears on deck.

He’s clearly abandoning his assassination plan for the day because of you, so before he can disappear, you frown at your dad and announce that you’re having a tea party and he’s not invited. Then you march across the deck, grab Ace by the hand, and pull him along with you belowdecks.

Ace follows you meekly, his eyes wide with confusion, but he lets you lead him all the way down to the kitchen where you rope Thatch, Izou and Atmos into bringing tea party supplies to your room.

Forty minutes later, the four of them are squeezed into child-sized chairs (Atmos is in a normal-sized chair, which for him is tiny) around a table set up for a fancy tea, which is getting cold because you insisted that everyone has to be properly dressed for a tea party.  Which means everyone has to sit there while you put makeup and costume jewelry on them.

It’s always hilarious to do Izou’s makeup badly because it is torturous for him and he tries so hard to pretend you’re doing a good job (and you are, it’s just that your goal is to paint him like a clown), but it’s even better with Ace pulled into the mix.

He’s never spoken to Atmos, and the interactions he’s had with Izou and Thatch have been very tense. Which is why this is, without a doubt, the most awkward situation you have ever manufactured.

It’s your masterpiece.

When you decide Izou’s face looks clown-y enough, and double check that Thatch and Atmos are still wearing their clip-on earrings and tiaras, you start pouring tea for everyone. Your brothers could win an Oscar for their performance as they try to pretend they’re enjoying themselves but Ace is getting twitchy.

“So you… like tea parties?” Ace asks you. You did his makeup with sparkly green eyeshadow, red lipstick smeared on his cheeks as “blush” and you didn’t bother coloring inside the lines when you covered his lips in the same bright red. He didn’t protest once. You truly cannot believe what these people let you get away with.

You shrug.

“Not really. But it makes my dad sad when I don’t invite him and I’m mad at him,” you say absently. Your brothers stiffen, their eyes going wide. The teapot runs out and you frown. “I’ll be right back.”

You leave the room, pausing when you’re a few steps past the door so you can listen in.

Thatch breaks first.

“She’s not even a teenager yet!” he moans, and you can picture the way he drops his head into his palms.

“Poor Pops,” Atmos agrees.

There’s a flapping sound that you know is Izou fanning himself with his hand to keep himself calm.

“How bad is it?” He bites out, dread dripping from every syllable.

“So bad,” Thatch says immediately, “Izou, it’s so bad. You look like a clown. You look like a rodeo clown. You look like the other rodeo clowns are gonna take you out back and shoot you, you look so bad.”

You drop your head and laugh, muffling the sound with your hands. You are so tempted to take three steps back and drop the teapot like you were standing in the doorway the whole time and you heard everything and you’re utterly devastated. It would probably be a good bonding experience for them and Ace.

But you’ve tortured them enough already.

“…are you gonna eat that?” Ace asks. You pull off your tiara and costume jewelry and head off to go find Blenheim. He owes you a sparring match.

They’ll figure out eventually that you’re not coming back.

The day that Ace joins the crew is just as special as you dreamed it would be. He looks so unbelievably happy, like a weight he’s been carrying his whole life is finally off his shoulders, and you waste no time throwing yourself onto his back and insisting that he carry you around.

He’s about to be out of piggy-back commission for a while with that giant back tattoo, so you have to get it in while you still can.

Ace is an amazing big brother. You knew he would be, but you’ve had years to break all your brothers in. Ace is pretty much perfect as is.

Especially because your favorite activity (hearing stories about Luffy, who remains your very favorite character of all time) overlaps perfectly with Ace’s favorite activity (telling stories about Luffy). There’s a lot of things that are great about being inside the One Piece world, and one of them is hearing all the stories about Luffy’s chaotic and crazy childhood that never made it into the anime or the manga. You also manage to get Ace to tell you about Sabo, which takes a lot of patient and very precise needling, but once you crack those floodgates open, there’s a whole world of new stories that you hope will come in handy one day.

But the absolute best part of having Ace around?

He grew up in the jungle, hunting for food, protecting his brothers, and fighting a hundred fights every single day. When you ask him to spar with you—far away from the watchful eyes and ears of your dad and brothers—it literally doesn’t occur to him that he’s not supposed to.

Ace kicks your butt. He kicks your butt from one end of the ship to the other and he’s infinitely more gentle about it than Teach is capable of.

The commanders continue to train you on technique, and when you can sneak away, Ace and Teach show you how to actually use it. Not at the same time, obviously. Teach knows the extra training is not allowed, but Ace has no idea.

You know your dad will find out about it eventually but you’re finally making real progress and that’s worth it. With Ace on the crew, you’re less than three years away from the Devil Fruit. You have to be ready.

Chapter Text

You’re bouncing off the walls with excitement. Literally. That last part is mostly completely Ace’s fault, because Thatch warned him not to give you too much sugar and he took that as a challenge to sneak you as many desserts as he could for the entire trip.

Obviously, you could have just not eaten them. And in fact, you probably shouldn’t have eaten them. But here’s the thing: Ace never—literally NEVER, he’s almost bitten off people’s hands for trying to take something off his plate—shares his food. With anyone. How were you supposed to refuse? Also you’re trying not to accidentally reveal that you aren’t really eleven and what eleven-year-old would turn down an endless supply of candies and cookies and brownies and little cakes? You had no choice.

(Shut up. You’re a grown woman who has every right to enjoy the insanely fast metabolism of her eleven-year-old body that can eat its own weight in sugar without getting a stomachache. So there.)

Point being, you are on such a ridiculous sugar high that you physically can’t stop bouncing around and you’re excited to finally get there and the combination of all that is that your poor brothers are down to ten-minute shifts to keep you under control.

“Are we there yet?!” you demand for the hundredth time (you’re eleven, that’s what they do) and your current victim crouches down to hold you by the shoulders.

“Lexie, we will be there soon and when we are, I promise you can run around to your heart’s content but for the love of everything in this world, please—PLEASE—stop asking that.”

“But it’s taking forever!!!” you whine, bouncing up and down faster to try and burn off a little more of the ungodly amount of energy churning through your tiny body, “I’m boreddddd!!!!”

Haruta’s eye twitches.

“I know. And I’m going to personally dangle Ace over the side of the ship by his ankles as soon as we get there. But we’re really almost there and I need you to pull it together, okay?”

“Hmmmm.” you humph, but Haruta just taps you on the nose to make sure he has your attention.

“Lexie,” he warns.

You press your lips together and your whole mouth pinches off to the side. Your eyes look anywhere but at your brother’s face. There’s a piece of paper sticking out of his belt right next to his saber and you point to it.

“Can I have that?”

Haruta raises his eyebrows and looks down to see what you’re pointing at. He pulls the paper out and stares at it quizzically.

“This is just a schedule.”

“Can I have it?” you repeat. Haruta’s eyes land on yours, pinning you with an intense stare. Your body is itching to move and you bounce up and down on your toes.

“Will you sit quietly for ten minutes if I give it to you?”

You stop bouncing. Ten minutes, huh? The ship is at least half an hour away from docking.

“…five.”

“Done.”

Haruta hands you the schedule for his division and you snatch it up like a squirrel snatches an acorn or a frog snatches a fly. Then you sit your butt down on the little bench near the stairs on deck and read through the schedule for what Haruta’s division was supposed to have been doing this morning.

It is, in a word, dry.

“SHURI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” you shout as you burst through the doors the second they’re open wide enough for you to fit. Your best friend lights up, her entire body vibrating with excitement and she doesn’t even have an obscene sugar rush to blame.

“Legsy!” she exclaims happily. You launch yourself into the air and she catches you—she’s not as coordinated as your dad but you’ve got good enough balance to make up for it.

“You’re back! I’m so excited to see you, I can’t believe you’re really here!” Shirahoshi cheers, her eyes filling with tears.

“Of course I’m here! And I brought all my stuff for a sleepover!”

Shirahoshi gasps, her eyes wide and shining in awe.

“A sleepover? I’ve never had a sleepover before!”

You nod, showing her your bag that’s packed full of everything you need.

“Dad! Can Shuri come play with me in the grotto?” you ask excitedly, holding a tiny bit of the mermaid princess’ index finger in your entire hand. Your dad freezes. Next to him, King Neptune goes pale.

“Andrea…” your dad starts but you cut him off like you didn’t even hear him. Yes, it’s true that Vander Decken is still actively trying to kill her. But if Luffy could protect her by himself the whole time they were in the garden, then your dad and all your brothers should have no problem doing the same thing.

“Please?! She said she’s never even been there before! And I never get to see her, it’s been so long! Please?!”

“I don’t…”

“Child—” The King starts but Shuri jumps in with hope shining in her eyes.

“Oh please dad? Can I?!”

You power up your puppy eyes and give the King of the Ryugu Kingdom the hardest sell you possibly can.

“Please, Mr. Shuri’s dad? Just for a little?”

You use all your strength as you shove your hands down into the water, and the wave that spreads out is big enough to soak Shuri from head to torso (the rest of her body is under the water already, so it doesn’t count). For a second, there’s silence as she stares at you in shock, water dripping off every part of her.

Nobody’s ever splashed her like that.

You’re ready for the waterworks (and so are her brothers, who are staring at you in horror, and so is her dad and so is your dad and so are somewhere around a hundred of your brothers who are guarding the perimeter of the grotto). But instead, she starts to giggle.

It’s quiet at first, like it kind of snuck up on her, but it starts to get louder and louder and louder until she throws her head back and laughs. The sound bursts out and it’s not delicate or shy or cute, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard as she laughs like she’s never laughed in her life. It makes you smile, and then the next thing you know, there’s water all the way up your nose because she buried you under an entire monsoon with one wave of her hand and when you swim back to the surface and splutter out the water, she’s looking down at you nervously.

You smile up at her and splash again, and then you’re having a water fight.

The two of you splash each other and swim around for a little while, and after a while that gets tiring so you suggest playing a different game.

Her smile freezes. Shuri looks at you with big, watery eyes and your stomach sinks when she whimpers, “I don’t know any other games for two people.”

Your stomach sinks because holy shit, this poor kid is ten years old and she’s been locked in her room by herself since her mom died, so the best thing you can do is nod with the sage wisdom of an eleven-and-a-half-year-old and grab her finger again as you announce, “Let’s play explorers!”

She’s never played pretend before, but you’ve got a decade of experience in making up shit that sounds like something a little kid would do, so you declare that the two of you are the world’s greatest explorers and you’re looking for the City of Gold. You’re tempted to say that you’re searching for the Lost City of Atlantis because, hello, you’re actively in a kingdom at the bottom of the ocean, but you’re pretty sure you’re the only person who would understand the joke.

It takes her a little while and a lot of encouragement to get into it, but soon the two of you are swimming around and exploring the grotto and picking up random shells and bits of coral and pretending to be exploring ancient ruins and finding clues and just playing. It’s definitely the weirdest playdate you’ve ever had; you’re surrounded by an army (literally, the soldiers of the Ryugu kingdom are side by side with hundreds of your brothers), while your dads are standing watch over everyone far enough away to let you two play in peace but still close enough in case anything happens.

Vander Decken is a piece of shit, by the way. You really wish this was all overkill but the sounds of flying axes and swords and knives and cannonballs being knocked out of the air are getting more and more frequent. For Shirahoshi’s sake, you absolutely refuse to acknowledge them.

 “I found the missing key!” Shuri exclaims joyfully, holding up a massive chunk of coral. Her brothers, the three merman princes, are standing in formation near King Neptune, and Shuri might be having fun but you’re not done.

“Great job! Now we just need to find a guide to show us where it goes!” you cheer, before swimming over to a rock and pulling yourself up on top of it. You make pretend binoculars with your hands and scan across the grotto before lighting up and pointing. “Look over there! There’s three of them! I bet one of them will know!”

You’re positive that in any other circumstance, the princes would stand their ground and insist that their greatest duty was to protect their sister. But when Shuri swims over to them with excitement shining in her eyes as she holds out her coral, asking the three guides if they can show her the secret entrance to the treasure room, what choice do they have? All three of them get roped into the game.

You keep the game going, adding pretend twists and turns and dragging a few of your brothers in (not too many, they do have a job to do after all) to play the surprise villains that are trying to steal the treasure, but you’re mostly trying to just let your friend have fun with her brothers.

Her brothers are not very good at playing pretend but they try really hard and it’s adorable. You help them out as much as you can, putting all your “yes, and” skills to the test when Fukaboshi declares that the all-powerful guardian of the treasure is a… guppy (and in case anyone was wondering, yes, a guppy was swimming past when he thought of it), chanting as loudly as you can when Ryuboshi sings that the next trap needs a musical key, and giving it a really good attempt to dance while treading water for Manboshi’s turn.

At one point, while Fukaboshi is leading Shrui around in a circle through the power of sheer determination and the other two are fully absorbed in cheering her on, you sneak a glance over to where your dad is standing guard.

He’s not looking at you; all his attention is focused on the perimeter to make sure that nothing slips past that could hurt either of you. Today isn’t for him and he knows it.

King Neptune on the other hand. He’s looking. His posture is ramrod straight, his hand gripping his weapon so tightly you can see that his knuckles are white from all the way over here, and his jaw is clenched hard enough you’re worried he’ll crack a tooth. He’s the picture of a stern ruler, emotionless and focused and regal and—yeah, you don’t buy it for a second.

You’ve got twelve hundred brothers and the most stubborn man alive for your dad. You know exactly what it looks like when a man is trying not to cry.

The door closes with a thud and there’s a grinding sound as the lock moves back into place. It’s quiet without Shuri’s dad and brothers and your dad and Marco who all came to read you guys a bedtime story, and personally, you’re happy to have a little peace and quiet.

Today has been a lot. It’s totally worth it, Shuri has been practically glowing with happiness since the moment her dad agreed to let her visit the grotto, but you’ve been at full eleven-year-old energy all day and you’re exhausted. It’s a lot of work to keep a giant, sheltered, lonely ten-year old mermaid princess entertained, not to mention the effort to keep her brothers and dad engaged without getting emo about how unfair it is that they can’t give her this all the time.

Shirahoshi bursts out crying. 

You wince, because there’s always a crash after the high, and you click the lights back on. Shuri has her face buried in her pink blankets, clutching her pillow close to her chest, and she’s only just started but she’s already sobbing her heart out. Your chest tightens.

“Shuri?” you ask, as you and Megalo move closer to her. It’s a little harder for you than for the giant shark since you have to climb up to her mattress, but you’ve got lots of practice from navigating your dad’s room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she sobs, and you’re not sure you believe that because there are two not-so-little waterfalls cascading down her cheeks. “This was the best day of my life! I’m just so happy!”

“Aw, Shuri!” you tug at her hand and then climb into her palm when she opens it for you. She lifts her head up and cries softly as you reach out to try and hug her as best as you can, “It was the best day of my life too!”

Megalo nudges at her and she reaches out with the hand that isn’t holding you, letting her friend comfort her. You squeeze her hand and try your best to just be there while she cries. You don’t try to shush her or tell her it’s okay because honestly, it’s not. You’re going to leave and she’s going to be stuck here and she has no way to know that one day, Vander Decken is going to get everything that’s coming to him.

You wish that you could make it happen sooner, you tried everything you could to get your dad and Jimbei to make him a priority, but as much as they empathize, Vander Decken is too slippery. Luffy makes it seem really simple but there’s no way for them to know where he is right now. You hate it but there’s nothing you can do for her that you haven’t already done.

“I don’t want you to leave!” Shuri cries, “Do you really have to go?”

Guilt seizes your chest. She’s just a kid and this breaks your fucking heart but you can’t stay. She’ll be safe until Luffy saves her and then her entire life will be hers again. But if you stay here, your family is going to die.  

“We’ll always be best friends, okay? Even if I’m not here. But I have to stay with my family.”

If she was upset before, she’s inconsolable now. And it breaks your heart even more and she doesn’t stop crying and you’re well aware that this is probably some kind of karma for all the times you’ve put your dad and brothers through the same thing.

You take a deep breath and make up your mind. You were wrong; there’s one more thing you can do for her.

“Shuri, I’m going to tell you a secret,” you say in the most childish serious voice you can. Shuri raises her head higher and looks at you with wet and bloodshot eyes. “But you have to promise never to tell anyone. It’s a best friends secret. You have to promise too, Megalo.”

Shuri sniffles and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. She nods with all the intensity that the situation deserves, and with a pointed look at Megalo, the giant shark nods too.

“I promise.”

You take a deep breath and tell her something that could get your entire family killed.

“I know things about the future. Things that are going to happen. Really, really, really bad things.”

Shuri gasps.

“Like Madame Shyarly?”

You shrug. “Kind of? I don’t have premonitions, I just… I already knew it, if that makes sense.”

“No,” Shuri sniffles again, “But I believe you.”

You nod.

“That’s why I can tell you. But I can’t tell my dad or my brothers or anyone else. Even if they believe me… I don’t know what will happen then. I only know how to save them if I don’t change anything until it happens.”

“But…”

Shuri stops as soon as she starts, clutching at her blanket again. Her massive tail flicks anxiously.

“But you’re going to save them, right?”

“I am. Whatever it takes, I’m going to save them.”

The tears that have been steadily dripping down her face finally stop. Shuri lets go of the blanket and wipes her eyes and nods bravely.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

“Uncle Whitebeard is the nicest man I’ve ever met, I don’t want anything to happen to him!”

The Moby Dick is never quiet but the first night back on the surface after a trip to Fishman Island is the closest it gets. Everyone is exhausted; the journey down to the bottom of the ocean is dangerous, even for the strongest crew in the world and everyone is on constant guard in case anyone tries to ambush the ship as soon as it surfaces.

But the journey to Paradise was as smooth as it could be and now everyone is resting.

Your dad put you to bed hours ago and you’ve been lying in the dark with your eyes closed, using your Haki to feel the hundreds of siblings moving all around you, and it’s soothing to feel their presences gradually dim as everyone but the night watch falls asleep.

It’s peaceful.

Sometime around three in the morning, you open your eyes and push the covers back. You turn your nightlight on and it fills the room with a greenish-blue light. It’s not the best to see in, but anyone who happens to pass by your room will just assume you turned it on after you had a bad dream. You learned the hard way that if they see your lights on, they’ll come in to check on you. Marco in particular has a sixth-sense for it; his room is the closest to yours and you really do not want him finding out about this little hobby of yours.

The schedule Haruta gave you before you reached Fishman Island is stashed inside your desk and you pull it out along with one of your journals that all of your brothers have sworn on pain of upsetting you (a fate worse than death) never to look inside of. You sit at your desk, pull out a pen, and open the journal to a blank page.

You’ve already spent a while studying the characters, how he writes his letters and numbers and flourishes and ink smudges, but it’s still hard to mimic.

All the more reason to practice. Your pen scratches against the paper and you lose yourself in the rhythm, trying to match the loose sweeping wrist motions and the careless speed he can reach when he’s writing something in a hurry.

Haruta is in charge of all the incoming and outgoing communications to the Moby Dick. To the Allied Captains and islanders living in Whitebeard territory, a letter from Haruta has the same authority as your dad.

To be honest, you’re not sure what you’ll be able to use it for, but you want every backup plan you can possibly have.

You reach the end of the page and when you let go, the paper flips down, revealing the last set of pages you finished, filled with neat lines of steady script that you can write backwards, forwards and upside down if you need to. Marco’s handwriting is much, much easier to forge than Haruta’s.

You turn the schedule over to the back, flip your journal to a blank page, and keep going.

Your sisters are a bunch of bitchy gossips and you absolutely fucking love them. To the point that you actually consider maybe—maybe—thinking about looking into letting them teach you about nursing so you can hang out in the infirmary with them.

Right now, the Moby Dick is a few hours away from the island where Kashi’s boyfriend lives and you’re hanging out in the common area in the nurses’ suite with nine of your other sisters (and left to right that’s Isabel, Naviv, Christiane, Anya, Malia, Saoirse, Joyce, Nina, and of course, Tate). The rest of your sisters are either still on their shifts or preparing for their next shift, and you feel for them because although you love your family dearly, it is undeniable that this a ship full of idiots. Accident-prone idiots.

Point is, like all the pre-meds you went to college with, your sisters work hard and they also play hard and right now they are making the most of the evening before an extended shore leave. Saoirse put on a transponder disk and the snail in the corner is playing best hits of some pop singer from an island you’ve never heard of that your sisters LOVE. You’d put good money on the fact that if they lived in the real world, they would’ve been hardcore Beliebers. The rest of them are hanging out in loungewear or less—not a single pink uniform in sight—and pulling the corks on a dozen bottles of wine. They’ve got a juice pouch for you (no wine for the twelve-year-old) and you stretch out on the couch between Joyce and Nina while sipping your off-brand Capri Sun.

The tea from your sisters is unmatched. The nurses across the entire Allied Fleet keep in close contact so they can all stay up to date on best practices and who might be sick or injured, not to mention that they’re always searching for a cure for your dad’s illness. It doesn’t seem quite as far along as it was in the anime, he’s not hooked up to nearly as many IV lines and monitors, but it’s still hard every time he has a slow day. Still, as long as you can keep him alive through Marineford, there’s hope. Between Chopper, Law, and Marco, they’ll be able to cure him for sure.

But the close contact with the other ships mean that your sisters know even more than Haruta’s division about what’s going on. Your dad’s fleet has ships in every ocean all over the world, and the nurses know everything about everybody’s love life. The most exciting news right now is that one of the Allied Captains in the South Blue somehow wooed a Marine into defecting her post to run away with him.

“Harker’s planning to lie low in Paradise until the heat dies down,” Malia says, “Half his crew’s still convinced she’ll get cold feet and pretend he kidnapped her so she can get her job back.”

“Is that why he hasn’t told Pops yet?” Christiane demands.

“He hasn’t?!” Isabel gasps.

“Let me!” Naviv begs, “I never get to tell him big news, he’ll be so excited!”

“You’re not telling him anything! Corsica says he’s been mooning after her since his first bounty, when Pops knows, the whole family knows and that kind of pressure will just scare her off!” Tate scolds.

“Well she’s gonna meet us eventually!” Saoirse cackles, raising her cup in a toast, “Let her see what she’s really in for!”

“Crap, I can’t get it!” Kashi swears, huffing in frustration as she wipes away another mess of smudged eyeliner. She’s been trying to do a wing for the last twenty minutes and it’s not going well.

“Just do something else. Like a smoky eye, that’s cute,” Isabel says. She finishes her cup and pours herself another glass of the white. Malia shakes her empty cup and Isabel refills it for her. 

“No, I always do that! I haven’t seen him in six months, I have to do something special!”

“Let LP do it,” Nina suggests, “She’s great at it.”

“I’m not done yet!” Joyce whines where she’s busy braiding your hair in a complicated eight-strand braid. Just like the other divisions, the nurses have their own nickname for you, and at this point you’re resigned to it. It’s Maraca’s fault—another of your sisters who’s currently on shift who joined the crew when you were five. She took one look at you and started squealing about what a cute little person you were dressed up in your little karate outfit and the next thing you knew, little person became LP and that was that. It’s not great, but it’s definitely better than Frog.

“Joyce, please!” Kashi pleads as she wipes the last of the eyeliner off, “Don’t do this to me, I’m gonna run out if I keep trying!”

“Here,” Tate hands Joyce a bunch of clips, “Tie it off there and clip it up, you can finish it after she saves Kashi’s date night.”

“I’m not that good at it,” you say.

“You are!” Tate laughs as she helps Joyce pin your hair up so she can come back to it later, “And even if you weren’t, you’re still better than the rest of us.”

They finish pinning up your hair and Kashi gratefully slides her chair over to give you more room under the lamp to see what you’re doing. She tries to hand you the eyeliner, but you shake your head and grab the brushes and eyeshadow palette. Blue isn’t really her color, and something in red will help the wing frame her eyes better.

It’s not long before you’re totally lost in the motions and there’s a reason that you love doing other people’s makeup so much, aside from how fun it is to torment Izou; you had a side-job doing bridal makeup in grad school (you had to make rent somehow and that stipend was not it) and maybe it’s dumb but it feels like home. You can’t go back yet; even if you knew how to wake up, there’s only a few years until everything happens and you’re going to find a way to save your family. But you can focus on the way the eyeshadow blends into her foundation and pretend, just for a second, that you’re on bridesmaid number seven of twelve and they are not paying you enough to deal with the mother of the groom who’s going to barge into the suite any minute now and demand that you make her wrinkles magically disappear.

“I think Butch is putting on weight,” Anya comments suddenly. Your sisters all make humming sounds and you wince. Butch is in Rakuyo’s division, he and Anya have been in an on-again off-again situation for years and it’s going nowhere fast. He’s really nice. But mostly he’s kind of boring.

“I didn’t want to say anything but I noticed it too, especially the last couple months.”

“Do you think I should say something?” Anya stage whispers.

“What, like drop ten pounds or I’m breaking up with you?” Christiane asks, two sarcastic eyebrows raised.

“No! I just, I don’t know if I should say something. Like, I noticed. You guys noticed. It’s…” she waves her hands in little circles, “happening. It is. I just don’t know if that’s the kind of thing I should say.”

“Are you still into him?” Nina asks.

“Yeah, there’s lots of great stuff about bigger guys, you know?”

“Well how big are we talking?” Isabel teases. In the mirror, you can see her wiggle her eyebrows suggestively and Anya blushes.

“Izz!” Joyce nods her head at you, making an abort gesture.

“Oh, like how tall he is?” you ask, because you’re really not interested in learning what size your brother is packing, and also because it’s funny to pretend to miss the R-rated parts of the conversation. Isabel’s face flashes into an expression of “oh shit” before she pushes her lips together and nods.

“Mhm.”

“He’s very tall,” Anya answers hurriedly.

The conversation moves on quickly. You finish the eyeliner and move onto the foundation and contouring while your sisters move on to some other drama that happened on Whitey Bay’s ship.

You don’t notice when the door opens, but it’s impossible to miss the matching groans from everyone in the room.

“Boooooo, get out!” Nina hurls a throw pillow vaguely in their direction, stopping the door before it can open more than a crack.

“I don’t care if you’re bleeding or actively dying, that is not our problem!” Saoirse declares. There’s a very familiar scoff.

“I do a favor for you out of the goodness of my heart, and this is how you repay me?” one of your brothers teases, “I just need a few measurements and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Did you bring snacks?” Malia demands.

“Do I look like Thatch?”

“Then go away. We’ll do it later.”

“If you want me to finish it for this week, then it has to be now. I’m not sewing for you on my days off,” he retorts. Malia lets out a besieged sigh and then gestures for him to enter. “That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up and measure, pretty boy.”

“Oh, so I’m—"

CRASH!

You jump at the sudden noise, spinning around to see Izou frozen in the doorway, staring at you in shock. There’s a measuring tape and a drafting kit in pieces at his feet. You freeze. When your eyes flick over to the side, you see that you are in fact actively applying rouge to Kashi’s cheeks and blending it seamlessly into her foundation.

Izou’s eyes are fixed on your sister’s face. Then they move around the room, taking in the other nurses one at a time, tallying up bottles and glasses of wine and the way that they’re all lounging around on the various couches and clearly not involved in the makeup being applied to Kashi’s face.

In an instant, the temperature of the room drops about fifteen degrees.

“Alexandria.” Izou says quietly. His voice is a razor-thin blade of ice. “You will explain yourself, now.”

Uh oh.

“Would you believe…” you start, well aware that you are pulling bullshit straight out of your ass, “I got better since last time?”

Izou’s eye twitches.

“I played dress up with you last. Week.”

Yup. He did. He’s got you there. Since he called your bluff, you drop the whole act and shrug.

“Okay, yeah. I think you probably know the answer,” you admit.

There’s a long pause. Your sisters have all gone silent, which is very smart of them, and Izou stands in the doorway fuming.

“Come here,” he says finally.

 Goosebumps run down your back and your pulse speeds up. For a second, you think about making a break for it. It’s Whitebeard Pirate 101 that an angry Izou is the scariest thing on the ship.

But, on the other hand, you did get a lot of mileage out of that joke and fair is fair.

So you resign yourself to your fate—just one second, you missed a spot when you were blending Kashi’s temple and it only takes a second to fix—and let Izou drag you out of the room.

“Good luck!” Naviv hisses before the door shuts.

In the end, it’s not that bad. Izou just drags you to your room and makes you give him all your makeup supplies (which, good riddance, they’re the gross, clumpy kid kinds because nobody wanted to buy the child expensive makeup).

Then he sits you down and gives you a haircut because you’ve been trying to grow your hair out for a while and it’s been driving him crazy to watch it get so long. You’re a little annoyed about that—you’re growing it out for a reason—but you don’t complain because you have put him through so many bad makeovers. Also, he gives really good haircuts and it feels nice.

So that’s kind of that.

…is what you think until you get to dinner that night. The whole crew has shore leave so most of your brothers are already on the island, leaving pretty much just the commanders since they have a big meeting later. (You miss the days when they would let you sit in, it’s really frustrating not to know what’s going on).

The upside is that all the divisions came to the island to rendezvous so all the commanders are here, which is good because you haven’t seen much of Jiru or Namur in a while. There’s supposed to be some cool reefs around this island—you’ll ask Namur to go swimming with you tomorrow.

Jiru pauses mid bite when Izou politely asks him to slide down so he can take the seat next to you. He’s only been back on the Moby for a few hours but he’s already heard about it, so he moves over without more than a side-long glance at you.

“How was your dinner?” Izou asks calmly. You smile at him like you fully believe he’s over you making him look like a clown for the last many, many, many, many, many years.

“It was good!”

“How about some dessert?” Izou offers cooly. You don’t trust him for a damn second but you smile anyway.

Ace—predictably—jumps up at the word dessert.

“I’ll take some!” he exclaims, and everyone at the table laughs because they might not know what’s going on but it’s so classic Ace. He’s the best. Izou’s face twitches.

“You can have some later,” he says without taking his eyes off you as he puts a plate down in front of you. There’s a piece of cake with white frosting. You squint, and sure enough, there’s little white flakes in it, and a quick sniff confirms your suspicions.

So that’s his game.

“This first piece is for Lexie,” Izou pushes the plate directly in front of you. It looks good.

It smells awful.

Okay, that’s not fair, it probably smells really good to most people. But you despise coconut—which Izou is perfectly aware of— and there are very few circumstances in which you would willingly put a piece of coconut cake into your mouth.

But where’s the fun in straight-up refusing?

“Thanks Izou! You’re the best!” you light up, grabbing the plate and pulling it towards you. You bend down to smell it, and it’s at that point when your dad and all your brothers are watching you that you let your nose wrinkle and your face twist in childish disgust. You sit up as fast as you can and make a face. And then you pretend to look innocent and hmm, looking at anything but the piece of cake in front of you. “Um… no thanks.”

“You don’t want it?” Izou asks quietly.

“Izou, yoi,” Marco sighs.

“Marco,” Izou returns evenly.

“Ali, you know how I feel about wasting food,” Thatch chimes in, and you fight to keep your eyebrows from rising in surprise because you have no idea what Izou had to promise or threaten him with to get Thatch on his side for this one, “I made that cake special for you!”

You tilt your head and stare at the cake. Did you do anything that Thatch needs to get back at you for? You genuinely don’t think so, he’s probably going along with this out of sympathy for Izou. Well, no matter. You know how to handle this.

You blink hard and frown.

“I got you such a big piece too!” Izou encourages, sliding a fork at you with a serene expression that hides his sadistic streak. The thought of actually eating it makes your stomach turn. Did you mention that you hate coconut? Because you hate it. With a vengeance.

It really is a big piece of cake.

Ugh.

It’s time for action.

You turn away from Izou and reach for your dad’s sleeve, tugging at it insistently.

You dad has been doing his best to stay out of this one, which is an excellent tactical decision on his part. But he can’t stay neutral forever.

“Daaaaaaaaad?” you ask quietly, in the softest, sweetest, most pathetic voice you can make. The little quaver doesn’t hurt either. Your dad tries to keep eating, but you tug at his shirt again and your voice rises in pitch. “Dad?”

Without acknowledging the scene unfolding around him, your dad finally buckles. He turns and looks down at you, staring straight into your puppy eyes. He melts, exactly like he always does on everything except letting you fight for real, and then he sighs.

“Do you need something, sweetheart?” he asks, resigned to the fact that he’s going to be dealing with a very unhappy Izou after this.

You brighten, dropping the puppy dog eyes and the sad voice and exclaim, “Nope! I just love you 😊” (Obviously you can’t make an emoji sound with your mouth, but that’s pretty close to how it comes out).

You beam at him, and while he and everyone else are still reeling from the sudden one-eighty, you grab the very large piece of cake and devour it. Frosting goes everywhere and crumbs fly and little flakes of coconut scatter across the table and stick to Izou’s kimono. You swallow everything down and wipe your mouth with your palm, smearing frosting even more everywhere.

Then you smile at Thatch and hold out your plate, who blinks at you in shock.

“More please!”

Like you said, very few circumstances in which you would willingly eat coconut. One-upping Izou? That is a worthy circumstance if ever you’ve seen one. Especially when you see the look on Izou’s face.

Chapter Text

The pirates come out of nowhere. You’re on a small island with Jozu’s division, helping them out with another supply run when the small plaza is suddenly flooded with enemy pirates. You don’t recognize them or their flag—and if that wasn’t enough to tell you that they’re No Names, their Haki presences are so dim you’d be surprised if they even knew Haki existed. They clearly haven’t been in the New World for long and they’re not going to last.

Their captain is the man wearing the spotted purple hat and a shirt covered in pink and blue dots. He raises his sword high in the air as his men swarm, declaring, “Once I, the fearsome Captain of the Polka Pirates, defeat the Whitebeards, the Navy will have no choice but to declare me as a supernova! Maybe they’ll even make me an emperor!”

Without any further monologuing, he swings his sword at you.

You can’t help laughing at the thought of this guy being able to leave so much as a scratch on your dad and reach for your sword. But before you can even draw it, you’re engulfed by an enormous translucent shadow that sends little fragments of light scattering in every direction.

The weakling captain of the Polka Pirates howls in dismay as his sword shatters against Jozu’s diamond body. And then he lets out a gurgle as your brother slams him to the ground with one hand.

You scowl.

“I had him!” you protest. Jozu crosses his arms over his chest.

“Not a chance.”

Your sword hums in frustration and your fingers tighten around the grip, shielded behind the golden hand-guard where Jozu can’t see it. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but the stronger your Observation Haki gets, the louder your sword gets. It loves to fight, to have you swing it with intent, to train with you as you get stronger. You’re not really sure how a cutlass can have feelings but you’ve learned to stop questioning things like that. The important thing is that it definitely likes you.

“He attacked me! I’m just defending myself!”

“You know the rules. Pops would have my head if I let you fight,” Jozu counters.

“Jozu, come on! They’re not even strong and you’re right here, let me take one of them!”

“No.”

Frustration bubbles over and it takes everything you have to stop yourself from stomping your feet and shouting about how ridiculous it is. You have a right to defend yourself and you’re more than strong enough to take any member of this crew by yourself. Jozu knows it as well as you do.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. The enemy captain is still lying on the ground, dazed and groaning in pain.

“You know I’m strong enough,” you say calmly.

“That’s not the point, Alcie,” Jozu answers and you know that you have absolutely no chance of changing his mind, “Captain’s orders are clear. You can take it up with him, but until he tells me otherwise, you are going to stay behind me and out of the way where it’s safe.”

You scowl, your heart pounding as irritation pulses through your veins where you can feel it all the way down in your fingertips. With a deep breath, you coat your hands in Armament Haki and slam your fist against your open palm as hard as you can; the shockwave that blasts out is strong enough to knock all the Polka Pirates— even the ones on the other side of the plaza— off their feet. Seriously, how did they even make it through Paradise? There are stronger crews in the Four Blues. You let the Haki dissipate, focusing on the sting in your palms and knuckles to keep yourself grounded.

“I’ll stay out of the way,” you tell him as you look him straight in the eye, and Jozu shifts as he stares back at you warily, “But tell me the truth. Do you think he’s right?”

Jozu hesitates. He’s usually such a straightforward guy that the non-answer makes your stomach clench.

“I trust my captain’s judgement,” Jozu says finally and just to rub salt in the wound he can’t even look you in the eyes. “And I would never forgive myself if I let anything happen to you.”

Oof, that’s an emotional sucker punch to the stomach. You’re pissed off but what are you supposed to say to that? How dare he care about you so much? Yeah right.

With a sharp exhale, you turn away and take a few steps back before dropping to the ground so you can lean against a wall. Whatever. Who cares about getting real-world fighting experience, anyways? It’s not like your entire family is on the brink of a war with the Marines that will chew them up and spit them back out in pieces, what would you possibly need to train as hard as you can for?

You break into a sprint and launch yourself off the roof into the air. At the height of your jump, you pull your fist back and coat it in Armament, leaning forward into the drop to help build momentum. Your fist makes contact with the ground first, the Haki combining with the force of your Ten Thousand Brick Fist to blow a crater into the dirt with enough force to break the sound barrier.

When the dust cloud fades, you stand up and brush yourself off, tilting your head back to look your dad in the eyes.

“Please let me fight.”

“No.”

Your dad doesn’t even consider it. Not even with the massive crater you made with a single punch. Not even with your perfect form. Not even with your Haki that’s already stronger than a lot of the crew’s.

You stare at him in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Because I said no.”

“Are you serious?!” you demand, gesturing to the literal crater you’re standing in, “What do I have to do to show you that I can handle it?”

Your dad’s expression stays frozen in stern disapproval and you feel like you’re drowning. Or at least going insane. How can he not see what’s right in front of him? If he didn’t want you fighting because you weren’t strong enough, that would be one thing. But the proof is in front of his eyes. You’re ready and you need to get stronger and you’ve been waiting for him to change his mind for long enough. How can this not be enough?!

“Alexandria, I said no. This isn’t up for debate.”

You stare at him in shock. He’s serious. You’ve been asking for so long that most of the crew thinks it’s a running joke, but you really thought he’d change his mind when you show him that you’re ready. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not a “maybe”, it’s not a “someday”, and it’s not a “when you’re strong enough” either.

It’s just a no.

Your bad day starts off when Teach wakes you up near the crack of dawn to throw you around the training room before the Second Division leaves for a month-long mission and you’re already exhausted and sore so it’s nothing short of a miracle that you make it out without a broken rib or four.

It hurts to move and it hurts to breathe and you almost throw up during breakfast because your stomach cannot handle anything after a beat-down like that. You’re supposed to spar with Vista later this morning but that is not happening, so instead you slip away before Thatch notices your untouched plate and go back to your room.

Every step hurts and your stomach and chest are one big canvas of bruises that are only going to get worse as they set in. By the time you make it back to your room, you’ve abandoned your plan to finish the “homework” Marco gave you and crawl pitifully back into your bed.

You pass out pretty much as soon as your head hits the pillow and your plan to sleep the rest of the day away is foiled when something suddenly touches your forehead. You’re so on-edge from sparring with Teach that your body throws itself backwards before you’re even fully awake and then you get the dual joys of your stomach screaming in pain while a million-different alarm bells go off in Marco’s head at the same time. How do you know? Because he’s leaning over your bed with a hand reaching out to check your temperature and you can see his vibrant blue eyes go comically wide.

“What are you doing?!” you try for mad so he doesn’t notice how you’re practically bent double as you clutch your poor stomach. Ow. Ow ow ow, fuck, ow.

“I’m sorry, yoi, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Marco apologizes, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Thatch said you barely ate anything this morning and Vista was worried when you didn’t show up. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a temperature?”

Marco reaches out again and you scoot back. You’re beat-up enough that there’s a chance you’re running a mild fever and if you let Marco do a check-up, he’s going to see the bruises. He knows for a fact that you were fine last night. Plausible deniability will only go so far and you know now that there’s no changing your dad’s mind. If they find out about your extra training, it’s done and so are they.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, picking up a pillow and hugging it close to your chest. Marco frowns.

“Lexa,” he says softly, sitting down on your bed and wrapping an arm around you. The motion is gentle but your chest hurts so fucking bad and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from screaming, “You don’t look fine. Is something wrong?”

Oh fuck, Marco go awayyyyyyy you cannot deal with this right now.

“I’m fine,” you bite out, and the loudest you can talk without whimpering is basically a whisper, “Go away.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

UGH that is the opposite of going away.

“GO. AWAY.” you bite into the pillow.

“Lexa, please?”

You growl and raise your head off the pillow to glare at him.

“Fine, I have a headache. Happy?!”

Marco stares at you with furrowed brows, and it’s clear that he doesn’t believe you for a second.

“Is there something else?” he asks gently, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Your face flushes and you try to push him away before your stomach throbs and you give up.

“It’s none of your business.”

Oof, that’s not gonna go well. In your defense, you are pretty much at your limit and you just want to pass out again. Just because training with Teach is important doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck; he’s horrible and every second you spend with him makes you sick but if it’s the difference between being helpless and keeping your family alive then it’s worth every single bit of pain. But right now you’re just beat up and exhausted and so completely done.

Marco sighs. He pulls his arm away and guilt lodges in your throat because he came to check on you because he’s worried about you and you were a dick to him about it. But he doesn’t get up.

Instead, he bends down and pulls off his sandals. Then he pushes the covers aside and climbs into bed with you.

“Come here,” he pats the empty space next to him. You hesitate. Marco reaches out and wraps his arm around you again. He gives you a second to pull away or tell him to get lost. Then he pulls you closer until you’re lying against him back to front with your head resting on the left side of his chest so you can hear the quiet thud-thump of his heartbeat; it’s slow and steady and calm and some of the tightness in your chest loosens when you hear it.

One of his hands ignites and he gently massages his fingers through your hair. The touch is soothing on its own, but his Devil Fruit works like magic to make your head stop throbbing. You weren’t lying before; your head really is killing you.

You close your eyes and let all your weight rest against your big brother.

He keeps going for a while, just holding you and letting his flames gently wash over your skin, and soon your head doesn’t hurt anymore but your chest and your stomach are still screaming. You hesitate for a second, but it hurts too badly so you reach out and take Marco’s hand. He lets you pull it down until the Phoenix Flames are directly over your stomach and the feeling when the bruises start healing is ice-cold water on the hottest day of the year. You relax instantly with an involuntary gasp, the tension in your back disappearing like it was never there, and you can feel Marco’s eyes on you as you go limp with sheer relief. But he doesn’t ask. He just shifts his grip to pull you a little closer and the flames grow bigger.

By the time you fall asleep, you can almost take a deep breath.

You feel better when you wake up.

Then you realize that Marco is gone and your chest aches all over again.

Your dad is missing from his chair. That’s not necessarily weird. But this time of day, he should be hanging out on deck with Marco getting the daily reports from the divisions on missions and updates from the Allied Fleet. Between Marco disappearing on you, your dad’s chair being empty, and the fact that you don’t find a single commander as you slowly make your way up to the deck, even when you poke your head into the mess hall, the little ball of anxiety in your stomach grows bigger with every moment.

Everyone on deck is rushing around as you slowly climb the stairs—wincing with every step because even if Marco’s healing helped, the bruises are seriously deep and his flames only skimmed the surface. All of them greet at you as they pass (in every variation of “how are you feeling?”), but nobody stops. That’s another red flag that makes your heart twist as you reach the top of the stairs and push open the door to the communications room. Haruta is talking into a transponder, barking out orders and gesturing sharply as the rest of his division takes frantic notes and moves pins and figures across the various maps strewn around the room.

Haruta’s eyes jump onto you the second you enter. He taps the shoulder of the crewmate next to him and passes off the transponder snail, your other brother picking up where he left off. Haruta crosses the room in a few seconds, crouching down to meet you at eye level. He puts his hand on your head and gently pets through your hair as he smiles down at you reassuringly.

“Hey Lexie, Marco said you were a little under the weather before. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you say, bewildered by the sheer chaos going on around you, “What’s going on?”

Haruta’s smile freezes. With his free hand, he takes a gentle grip on your arm.

“There’s a little bit of a mess today, but we’ve got it under control. Nothing you need to worry about, okay?”

Your eyes sting and your chest is tight for reasons that have nothing to do with the heavy bruising.

“Where’s dad?”

Haruta gives you another reassuring smile that isn’t reassuring at all and squeezes your shoulder.

“Nothing to worry about, Lexie. Pops and some of the other commanders went on ahead to deal with something. They’ll be back in a few hours.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

Nothing to worry about? You can count on one hand the number of times your dad left the Moby for a fight, and it was never for anything less than a full-on Buster Call. Or worse. If he took multiple commanders with him?

Your heartrate does not slow down as you demand, “What happened?!”

He hesitates. The smile on his face grows bigger but you’re not an idiot, you can see that he’s just trying not to worry you.

“Just a little issue on one of our islands, Pops just thought it would be better to head it off. Everything’s fine, alright?”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat but it won’t budge. There’s a full-on war room in here, Marco and your dad disappeared without warning you, and now your brother is lying to your face. Your Haki pings with every word and he might as well be waving a flare in your face that everything is anything but fine.

“Commander—”

“Just one second,” Haruta calls back urgently, before returning his attention to you, “I have to get back to work, is there anything you need?”

You shake your head numbly.

“You sure? The kitchen’ll be running all day today, they can make you anything you want.”

“Commander!”

Haruta glances over his shoulder again and a pained expression crosses his face. They need him NOW and you both know it.

“I’m fine,” you repeat.

“Lexie, I mean it. Anything you need, just tell any of us, okay? Nothing’s more important than you.”

Your stomach twists and your face burns and all you can do is nod quietly. Haruta pulls you in for a quick hug and presses a kiss to the top of your head that you can’t even feel because the sudden burst of pain makes you dizzy before he heads back to his station, accepting the snail and launching back into the crisis.

For a few seconds, you’re frozen in place. Somehow, you make your way back to the deck before anyone notices that you’re still just standing there and carts you off to the nurses. All around you, the ship is buzzing with activity and all you can feel in your Haki is stress and determination and when a team of your sisters emerges from the commander’s meeting room carrying boxes of medical supplies and a huge stack of papers you recognize as injury reports, your heart stops completely.

This isn’t just a situation. It’s a Situation with a capital S and it is all hands on deck to deal with it. Your family is in trouble, trouble bad enough that your dad and all your strongest brothers couldn’t take any chances.

Your stomach throbs and you nearly double over from the combination of pain and terror.

Your family is in danger. Some of your brothers are hurt already and you have no idea what’s going on or who they’re up against or what’s happening. There’s absolutely nothing you can do to help.

You’ve been so focused on avoiding Marineford and Blackbeard’s betrayal that you never even considered it before, but what if… what if they don’t even get that far? What if the Marines attacked early, what if your family got ambushed by all three Admirals at the same time? There was no sign of Thatch in the kitchen, what if he gets hurt? What if he’s already dead?

Stop.

Spiraling isn’t going to help anything. You need to take a deep breath and get a hold of yourself.

Your dad is the strongest man in the world and he’s got a bunch of commanders with him. They’re going to handle everything and come back safe.

For now, the best thing you can do is stay out of everyone’s way.

With a deep breath, you head back to your room.

Your room is too close to the deck. You’ve been in bed most of the day and laying back down makes your back ache, sitting down makes your chest and stomach hurt, and you barely pace the room twice before you’re too exhausted to take another step. A pile of pillows and stuffed animals on the plush carpet lets you half-curl up with one leg outstretched, your back twisting in just the right way that you can breathe comfortably.

But once you’re not distracted by how much pain you’re in, there’s nothing distracting you from the distress assaulting your Observation Haki. Without you watching them, there’s no need for them to put on a brave face. You can feel the steady thrum of panic and anxiety but it’s even worse with the brothers you’re closest to. Haruta is just a few floors above your head and you can feel every piece of bad news, can feel the brief seconds where he allows himself to fear for his family before he pushes it aside to focus. Rakuyo isn’t much better, although he’s more focused on avoiding steering the Moby into the water spouts that this area is notorious for.

The ship rocks suddenly and you nearly throw up for the second time today as a sudden wave of seasickness hits you. It doesn’t happen often but whenever you’re especially stressed, the movements of the boat feel terrifying and strange instead of comforting and familiar.

You’re not afraid that the Moby will capsize. Even with everything that’s going on, you’ve never been worried about that. Rakuyo and his division are exceptional at their job, the ship couldn’t be in safer hands.

But sometimes you hate living on a ship.

Even a ship as big as the Moby Dick can feel claustrophobic and isolated. The fact that it’s so big just makes it worse when it feels so empty.

Normally, you’d go to the training room to work off your anxiety, or get Namur to take you swimming where the cold water and exertion take your mind off the ever-present horror of being stuck here. Because as much as you love your pirate family, the truth is that you’ve never stopped dreaming of the day you wake up.

The wooden walls are too close and the air smells a little too stale and all you want to do is go for a walk in the garden trail that winds through the woods behind your apartment. You’re pretty sure it was early summer when you left; most of the flower buds would have fallen off but the trees would be green and lush and some of the later blooms would still be going strong. No matter what happened in your life, it always made you feel better to go for a walk outside, especially when the timing worked out for your little brother to get out of class early enough to come with you.

Oh fuck, now you’re crying for real.

God you fucking miss him like a hole in your chest.  

Your hands are shaking when you reach up to wipe your eyes because crying just makes your chest throb even worse and bile is burning your throat and it’s all you can taste and if you can’t stop you’re going to throw up for real. You have to stop. You can’t think about him or your little sister or what any of them would say if they could see you right now. You can’t think about what they’ll say someday, when you wake up and you’re back home where everything makes sense and you don’t have to worry about evil fruits that give you magic powers or betrayals from the people that are supposed to love and protect you or the fact that having the wrong blood is enough reason to put someone to death. You can’t think about the way they’ll roll their eyes and laugh at you if you even try to tell them about the crazy dream you had. And you definitely don’t think about your older brother because it’s been so many years and even with five thousand brothers in the fleet there’s not a single one who’s anything like him and no matter how much time passes since the accident you still can’t breathe right.

And you miss your dad. Your real dad, who couldn’t be any more different than your pirate dad, who isn’t strong or tough or intimidating, whose hand you could actually hold, who you never had to worry about taking a sword to the chest.

And just… you can’t even think about your mom. You just can’t. You’re going to have a full-fledged mental breakdown on top of this pile of plush toys if you imagine for even a single second that you’re never going to see her again.

There’s sketches in your notebook. You were a decent artist but portraits were never your strong suit and you could never stand to work on any of them for long. Most of them are awful and just flat-out wrong, but buried between pages and pages of forged handwriting and every last detail you can remember from the show, you’ve managed decent likenesses of all the people you love the most.

You can’t tell which hurts more; your body or your heart and you’re starving for a look at their faces but you’re crying too hard and if your tears ruin the pictures you’ll never be able to fix them. So instead, you limp over to your bed and curl up on your side, ignoring the way your spine protests and you reach inside your pillowcase.

The little frog from Shanks is a little smushed and the colors are faded, but you hug him tight to your chest anyways as tears drip silently down your cheeks.

A roar shakes the entire ship and rouses you from your rest; you weren’t sleeping, but you weren’t fully awake either. You stuff the frog back inside your pillowcase and sit up, ignoring the way your body protests every single movement because a sound like that could only come from the entire ship shouting out at once.

You stumble back to deck—literally pulling yourself along the railings because your legs are stiff and sore and every part of you is exhausted even without the fact that you’re pretty sure your organs are inflamed from Teach punching the shit out of you—and sure enough, all your brothers are crowded onto the deck, cheering and celebrating as the small ship (smaller than the Moby Dick, anyway) sails up with your dad and all nine missing commanders standing next to him. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight.

Your dad isn’t smiling, but even though the mood is solemn it isn’t dark. Your Haki can feel the injured brothers on the boat, you can tell that there’s something wrong with them from how their life force flickers, but Marco wouldn’t be up on deck if their lives were in immediate danger. They’re going to be okay.

Everything in you aches to go out on deck to meet them, for your dad to scoop you up and hold you close, but you hesitate. He’s standing tall, expression serious as he calls instructions out from the smaller vessel to your brothers on the Moby. This isn’t over yet and he needs to be the Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates. He doesn’t have time to be your dad right now and you’d never forgive yourself if you messed something up and your injured siblings suffered because of it.

It's enough that your dad is back and he and the commanders are safe. They’ll save the rest of your brothers too.

No one notices as you creep back down the stairs.

“Izou?” you ask quietly, and you can’t make yourself get past the doorframe. It’s late and you missed dinner even though it lasted for hours longer than usual because the thought of trying to keep food down feels impossible. You’re so far past being hungry that your stomach just feels like one big cramp but you honestly can’t even feel it under the bruises that have turned fully black.

If they don’t start getting better by tomorrow, you’re going to have to make up some excuse for the nurses. You can’t save your family if you die from internal bleeding.

“You need something, honey?” Izou calls back. Your stomach flips and you almost bolt. But you’re exhausted and everything hurts and you’re drowning because you’re stuck here and you don’t know how to wake up even if you could risk it and you miss your family and your friends and your life so badly that it’s swallowing you whole and your feet refuse to move. It’s been hours since the Moby landed on the island and the entire crew went out to clear out the last of the Marines. Your dad stopped by your room very briefly to check on you, and sighed in obvious relief to see you “sleeping” peacefully in bed. It made up for the guilt of pretending to sleep; you know for a fact that if he saw the tear tracks on your face, he’d drop everything and the rest of the crew needed him more than you did.

He’s still not back on the ship.

You swallow the lump in your throat and ask in a scratchy voice, “Can I do your makeup?”

Izou’s back stiffens and his head whips around to stare at you.

“Are you serious?” He hisses.

Your chest throbs again.

“Please?”

“Wha—no! Absolutely not!”

Your eyes sting but you bite your tongue to stop the tears from falling out. The nurses are already short-staffed and all of your sisters that aren’t handling the injuries from the clash with the Marines (it was Bad) or treating the poisoning from the run-in with Beast Pirates and Queen’s new airborne weapon (it was Really Bad) are getting every last second of sleep they can before their next shifts start. They just don’t have time for you, no matter how upset you are.

“Okay,” you bite out around the tears that you are not going to cry, you’re a grown woman and you can handle one really fucking bad day, “sorry.”

You turn around and leave. Every step is slow and it still hurts to breathe and so you haven’t gotten very far when there’s a loud sigh and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

“Honey?” Izou calls softly. Your feet stop because your body will take any excuse to stop moving. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shit, there go the tears.

“I’m fine,” you choke out, arms wrapped around your stomach.

“Which explains why you’re limping down the hallway crying,” he mutters. You’re probably not supposed to have heard that part. It does not make you feel better. Louder, he says, “Can I take you to the nurses?”

“I’m fine,” you bite out through gritted teeth.

“Or Marco could help, let me—”

“I’m fine!” you snap, fingernails digging into your arms so the pain gives you something else to focus on, “You said no so I’m going. Leave me alone.”

Come on, legs. One foot after the other, just like that. At this rate, you’ll be back in your room by morning.

There’s a mirror on the wall and that’s how you can see Izou’s hand open and close around nothing. He sighs.

“Are you going to make me look like a clown?”

You freeze. The question hangs in the air and your heart skips a beat. You sniff and wipe your eyes, but there’s a smile pulling at your lips as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Izou exhales through his nose, and it’s a sigh and a groan and a surrender all in one.

“Honey, you don’t have any makeup anymore,” he points out gently, like he wasn’t the one to throw all of it into a bonfire.

“Yeah I do,” you nod around a few stray tears, “Ace bought me more.”

Izou’s mouth drops open, but the he just sighs and shakes his head fondly.

“Of course he did,” he mutters. He shakes his head again, clearly at war with himself—the utter revulsion at looking ridiculous locked in a fierce battle with his instincts as an older brother. His shoulders drop and he sighs yet again, the sound heavy with the weight of the world. “Fine. But you’re using my things, that disgusting gunk will never touch my skin aga—”

He cuts off as you throw your arms around him, and you don’t care how much pain you’re in because you’re too busy crying into his kimono.

Chapter Text

Ace gets promoted to commander when you’re twelve, and you beg your dad for eight days straight to let you start going with the Second Division again. You haven’t been allowed to go anywhere with them in a long time and you miss them. Plus, you want more time to train with Ace.

It takes a lot of convincing, because your dad has never forgotten about you “falling out of a tree” on their watch, but they have a commander now and it would be a grave insult to Ace to imply that he’s not on equal footing with the other commanders. Plus, everyone knows that you adore Ace and that it’s completely mutual.

After your dad agrees, you are very careful to make sure he doesn’t have any reason to regret it. You tag along on as many missions with Ace as you’re allowed to and it’s so much fun. You see more of the New World than you’ve gotten to see so far, even if it’s just small islands and unclaimed territories, and you get to see Ace’s expert navigational skills and hang with Masked Deuce, who is way cooler than the anime led you to believe. And the more times you go with Ace and his division on missions, the more times you get to fight with them.

You never take on anyone who’s too strong for you, and Ace is always right there the instant you need help, but your Haki grows leaps and bounds. After years of frustration and slow progress, you can’t believe you’re actually getting better!

Everything is great. When the Devil Fruit shows up, you’ll be ready.

“What are you waiting for, Alex?” Ace calls over his shoulder, nodding his head one way while his outstretched palms blast fire at the pirates in front of him. “There’s some more of them over there!”

You understand his confusion. See, ordinarily when you’re with the Second Division on a mission, you’d already be sword-to-sword with the enemy by now. But you haven’t even drawn your sword yet because this is a joint mission with the Eleventh Division and that means that Kingdew is standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ace as they handle the first wave.

Kingdew punches the pirate he’s fighting in the jaw hard enough that you see stars and turns around with an utterly perplexed look on his face as he tries to figure out what Ace is talking about.

Mother fucker.

Your heart stops and then charges immediately into overdrive and your brain spins in dizzying circles as it tries to figure out how to salvage this one.

You like Kingdew. You do—he’s your brother and he’s been looking out for you for a long time and he’s a good guy. The thing is… ugh, there’s no way to say this without sounding like a jackass. Obviously, all of your brothers are pirates. But only some of them were pirates before they were Whitebeards. Does that make sense? No, that’s not right.

See, Kingdew was a gladiator in a fight to the death, “survival is glory” type of shit arena. The king of the fucked-up island he lived on ordered him and hundreds of other kids captured when their parents couldn’t pay the exorbitant taxes, and the kids got to fight for a chance to survive long enough for the money to be repaid. But it gets worse, because Kingdew’s parents actually managed to earn enough money to free him. They sold everything they had, worked for years to cover everything plus interest, but when they finally repaid it, it turned out that Kingdew had gotten good enough at staying alive in the Death Matches that the King didn’t want to lose his best entertainment. So naturally the bastard stole all the money and had his parents killed.

Deeply fucked up stuff.

By the time your dad stormed the island, freed the legions of prisoners and gladiators, and offered Kingdew another choice, he’d accepted life was about nothing more than strength and survival—the strong survived to fight the next day. Understandably, he is grateful with his entire being to his Pops for saving him and giving him everything; freedom, a family, and the strength to protect what matters.

You could never, ever blame him for that.

But the thing is, with the way Kingdew goes along with anything and everything your dad says, you’d think all that happened last week. Not twenty years ago. You’ve been trying to help push him out of his comfort zone a little, but you’re well aware that this is not the issue he’s going to disagree on.

So you have like two seconds to think of a way to save this situation before Kingdew realizes you tricked—no, you didn’t trick Ace, you just… did not bring up information it was reasonable to assume he’d been aware of—that Ace has been letting you fight with his division and immediately rats you out to your dad.

“I don’t feel good,” you say as you wrap your arms around your stomach. Turns out, those are the magic words because it sends your brothers into a frenzy. There’s no time to be playing around with weaker pirate crews when their little sister is having a medical emergency! Kingdew leaves the last few seconds of cleanup to Ace in favor of cradling you in his arms and sprinting for the ship, and no matter how many times you insist that you’re fine and they’re overreacting and – nope, they called Marco.

Great.

Whatever, it’s still better than the alternative.

You’ve been on the Moby Dick long enough to understand the rhythm. For the most part, the ship travels around to the different islands in your dad’s territory. Most of the time that the Moby lands on an island, it’s to resupply or check on a territory. Sometimes, it’s to handle a problem.

But every so often—like right now—it’s to explore a new island.

And not just any new island; an island that makes Rakuyo stare in quiet thought for a few seconds before disappearing into the cartography room and coming back with an old treasure map. He points out a feature of the beach in front of the ship that matches the distinct shape on the map’s edge.

“We’ve had this one for years, but I never knew where it was for. Think it’s worth checking out, Pops?” he asks.

In short, yes. Wealth may not be your dad’s top priority, but he’s still a pirate and it’s always fun to hunt for treasure.

Unlike Kaido and Big Mom, your dad doesn’t collect any kind of tribute from the islands in his territory. He protects them because he’s strong and seeing islands live in peace and safety, free from the tyranny of the World Nobles and other greedy crews is worth more to him than any money could ever be. Which means that pretty much all the money the crew has comes from defeating enemy pirate crews and the occasional raid on a Marine base or a noble estate. Although (and your dad does NOT want you to know this, he’s tried very hard to keep you from learning about the darkest this world has to offer) the noble raiding is only when your family finds proof that they’re involved in the slave trade that runs rampant through parts of the New World.

Basically, the Whitebeards as a crew have enough money to function; keeping the ship stocked with food and supplies, affording repairs, and paying out wages to the crew for shore leave, and each division is mostly responsible for their own finances. For bigger things that a crew can’t afford, like massive repairs to a damaged ship or an island, the entire Fleet will chip in when needed.

So when a treasure map comes along, it’s very exciting because treasure is a bonus. Technically speaking, the treasure should all go to Rakuyo if he’s right about this island being the same as the map. But in this case, it’s been long enough that they don’t remember who originally found it, so everything will go to the Moby’s treasury for distribution at the Commanders’ discretion. (Not your dad’s, if he had his way he’d send just about everything to Sphinx.)

A team is put together to go, and to no one’s surprise it ends up being your dad, six commanders, and about twenty or so of your other brothers that think traipsing through a humid, insect-filled jungle in the scorching heat of a summer island sounds like a fun activity.

You, of course, refuse to be left out. The instant your dad asks if you want to come, you’re already throwing yourself onto Ace’s back. Being made out of fire, Ace runs very hot and so you’re not even halfway to the island when you give up and make Marco carry you the rest of the way. Ace pouts but it’s too damn hot for that, so he’s just gonna have to deal.

“Can I hold it?” you ask. Rakuyo hesitates and you give him your best puppy-dog eyes. “Please!!! I promise I won’t lose it!”

Rakuyo, like all the rest of your brothers, can’t hold out for long. He passes you the map and watches as you unfurl it. It’s a map of a large section of the island, you can recognize the rock that he pointed out when the small ship docked, but even with that it’s still hard to figure out the directions.

“Are you leading the way for us, Ali?” Thatch calls from where he and Marco are surveying the dense forest ahead. You look down at the map and nod firmly.

“Yup! It’s… this way!”

You point with the utmost confidence, and Rakuyo gently nudges your finger about fifteen degrees to the left. You’re confused for a second before you look at the map again and see that the way you were pointing leads to a solid wall of cliffside.

Crap. This is exactly why you need to practice.

“Oh, right. That way!”

“Ace, leave it, yoi!” Marco yells for at least the eighth time today. Ace turns his head back to give a mighty pout, arms still wrapped around the leg of the massive boar attempting to throw him off.

“Come on, Marco! I’m hungry!” Ace whines.

“Commander, we just ate!” one of your brothers from Fossa’s division protests. Fossa crosses his arms over his chest and chuckles because it is really just classic Ace behavior. You’ve all been trekking through the jungle for hours and you’re only part of the way through the map, so some of your brothers are starting to get tired. Personally, you’re having a blast. You never get to come along on missions and exploring a strange jungle filled with dangerous animals and carnivorous plants is exciting enough that you don’t mind the heat.

Plus, whenever you get even remotely tired, someone immediately picks you up to carry you on their shoulders or back. Which is impressive because most of them are also carrying water and supplies too. For now, you’re well fed and re-hydrated so you’re happy to ignore the way your back is burning because even though you’re carrying a fraction of the supplies that anyone else is, it feels like a pile of rocks at this point.

You’re having way too much fun to complain.

“Which way next?” Atmos bends down to get a better look at the map in your hands. You frown down at it, because you were looking at it all through the picnic lunch and you’re just about positive that the rope bridge is a red herring but you’re not sure how else you’re supposed to get through the pass to the other side.

“I don’t think that’s right,” you tell Rakuyo, pointing in the direction of the rickety little bridge. Rakuyo takes the map from you and studies it carefully.

“Hmm…” he says, his eyebrows rising. He looks up, tilts the map, makes a few measurements with his open hand, and then shrugs as he hands it back, “Sure looks like it.”

“Really?” you ask doubtfully.

“When people hide their treasure, lots of times the map is just so they don’t forget where they put it. They don’t want anyone who comes across the map to just be able to find it,” Thatch says, “The good news is, the harder it is to get to, the more it’s usually worth.”

“We might have to make our own way across,” Atmos adds, because he’s tall enough that he can see all the way out to the rope bridge spanning the impressively large canyon. Seriously, the canyon alone is bigger than some of the islands you’ve seen. “Shouldn’t be a problem, though.”

“Do we have our heading?” your dad asks from where he’s still resting against an enormous tree. You were a little worried that the heat would be hard on him, but he’s big enough that this whole thing has just been a pretty casual walk. He’s fine.

You glance at Rakuyo who gives you a thumbs up.

“Ahuh,” you tell everyone, turning the paper a little to line up that big tree with the swirls carved into the trunk with your map, “It’s that way, over the bridge.”

“Then on we go,” your dad announces, pushing himself up to his feet and grabbing his bisento. Ace is still going mano-a-mano with the boar as the rest of your family packs up their supplies and sets out. There’s a particularly loud crash as Ace sends the hog flying and your dad shakes his head fondly. “We’re going with or without you, son!”

“I’ll catch up!” Ace calls back immediately. Marco lets out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard him make and transforms partway into his zoan form, fiery wings launching him into the air before he lands on your dad’s shoulder.

“You’re doing great, Andy,” Fossa thumps you on the back, then rests his hand on top of your head. You appreciate the gesture but it is entirely too hot for that, so you give him a cheeky grin and then run off to catch up to your dad.

Many hours into the journey, you’re pretty sure that you’re getting pretty close to the end of the map when the entire island starts shaking and part of the mountain that looms over the dense jungle suddenly splits off. That’s not a metaphor; you can literally see the cracks spreading across a big chunk of the mountain’s peak before the entire face begins to crumble.

Your brothers tense, but before you have any chance to move out of the way, Marco snatches you up and wraps himself around you, tucking your head close to his chest. That makes it very hard to tell what’s going on, especially when the sound of giant boulders tumbling down all around you is deafening and your Observation Haki just blares unhelpful warnings that are irrelevant with your older brother stopping anything from getting close to you.

It goes on for an unnaturally long time, although that’s not really a fair statement given that you’ve never seen a rockslide before.

The avalanche finally stops and Marco slowly releases you from the protective hold. You raise your head up to see that there are dozens upon dozens of tall rock piles blocking the path forward. It’s a surprisingly anticlimactic avalanche, to be honest.

As soon as you have that thought, the rumbling begins all over again. Your eyes widen as the piles start shaking and growing and sprouting rocky limbs and the next thing you know, the piles have all transformed into a small army of rock monsters.

This is the coolest treasure hunt you’ve ever been on!

There’s a moment of stillness before the rock monsters charge and your brothers instantly go on the offensive.

Your dad hangs back with you as the rest of your brothers clash with rock. They look pretty tough; for you, that is. Marco just pulverized that one into a dust cloud with a single kick. You bounce on your toes, adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream.

“Can I fight one? Please?!” you ask your dad. You haven’t drawn your sword or shifted your stance, he needs to see that you won’t even think about it without his say so. He’s going to say no, he always says no, but this is an easy fight for your family, they have it completely handled, and any of them could jump in to help if you need it. Honestly, you’re not even sure why you’re asking anymore, you know he’s going to say no. It just looks so fun!

“Alright. Just one.”

Your head whips up as you stare at your dad in wide-eyed shock.

“I can?”

“One.”

A brilliant smile stretches across your face and you cheer, “YES!!!! Thank you thank you thank you, you’re the best!”

Then you draw your sword and charge into the fray. You run between Fossa and the trio from Marco’s division who are clearing through the front row to reach one that hasn’t taken any hits yet. You’re not wasting your one shot to fight on an enemy that’s already down half its health bar!

In the end, the rock monster chooses you. By throwing a boulder that’s twice your size straight at you.

You raise your sword which thrums with anticipation of a good fight and cleave the boulder in half in a single swipe. The rock parts easily, crashing down on either side of you in two clean halves.

The rock monster growls— fuck you hope that wasn’t his cousin or something— and he charges towards you in lumbering steps that make the ground around you tremble. With a roar, he swings one of his pillar-sized arms down at you and you swing your sword up to meet it. The crash sends a shockwave up your arms that makes your shoulders burn.

You grit your teeth and set your stance.

This thing is a hell of a lot bigger than you, and it’s stronger too. But you’re a lot faster.

The monster pushes down harder on your sword and your feet slide in the dirt; you’re not going to win a battle of brute strength. So you tighten your grip and put everything into a single burst of power to deflect the rocky limb off to the side while you slide out of the way. The monster’s fist makes a small crater in the ground.

You’re already swinging your sword at the thin spot between a cluster of rocks but the monster moves its arm just in time that you miss the weak point. Your sword still takes a good gash out of one of the rocks and the monster howls.

It swings out and you have to dodge back to avoid the next strike.

Your fight goes on like that; you get in a hit, but you have to dodge the counterattack before you can do any real damage. It’s hard to tell if it’s working. You’re definitely damaging it and you haven’t taken any hits yet, but every so often more rumbling chunks of rock latch back on to the monster, almost like it’s regenerating. It seems like it’s getting clumsier, which is good. And angrier, which is not so good. Still, you’re determined to beat this thing without any Armament.

If there was just a way to stop the stupid thing from regenerating, then you’d be able to wear it down! But the entire area is littered with little chunks of rocks—remains of the monsters already dispatched by your brothers—and you can’t really leave the area to take the fight somewhere else.

“Doing great, Ali!” Thatch calls.

“Don’t distract her,” your dad warns him. You decide to take that as supportive rather than overprotective, because you are actively splitting your attention between staying ahead of each swipe of those rocky claws and trying to figure out a weak spot that might do some actual damage. New World monsters are a pain in the ass.

With a yell, you launch into a series of strikes, slashing and spinning and leaping into the air to bring your sword down in a lightning-fast arc, using your speed to add extra weight to your attack. The monster weathers the first five strikes, but you get unlucky with the timing and your sword comes down for the final hit just as its arm rises and it swats you out of the air. You hit the ground and skid backwards over the dirt, covering yourself with a thin layer of Armament so that when you come to a stop in a pile of mud and leaves, you’re already bouncing back to your feet for another charge. This thing is seriously tough, no wonder most of your brothers are handling them in teams. Not the Commanders, obviously, but it makes you feel better that you’re not the only one struggling.

Your sword buzzes in your hands and there’s a little tug on your core, almost like your sword is trying to pull your Haki out. But you take a deep breath and push it back down because the point of this is to beat it with strength and strategy, you already know your Armament is strong enough to deal with it.

For now, you dive back in. You try everything you can think of. You move faster, you aim for the thinnest part of each joint, you try stabbing instead of slicing, you even try taunting it into hitting itself with its own rocky claws. Hell, at one point you even try punching it, and even though that blows a huge chunk of rock out of its midsection, rumbling boulders fly back into place a few seconds later and you’re back at square one.

You squint at the rock monster, which is still towering but definitely more mis-matched than it was.

Okay. So maybe not square one. Yes, the monster can regenerate, but it can only use the rocks around it. And as the fighting goes on, the surrounding areas are littered with small chunks of rock, nowhere near the size of the original boulders.

The rock monster raises its arm and you bend your knees, gripping your sword tightly. As it brings its arm down to smash you, you attack. Your sword flashes out and swings back and forth, but unlike the last set of attacks, you’re not aiming for a weak spot. You slice through the massive chunks of rock that make up its arm, shattering each of them into tiny fragments.

By the time you’re done, the monster is a towering pile of rock with three big, strong, bulky limbs and one thin little arm made up of ten thousand tiny little pebbles. The monster roars again and you snag a hand around the entirety of its arm before clenching down in a crushing grip. The pebbles crumble to dust inside your palm.

When you open your hand, dust falls out. It doesn’t rise again.

A wicked smile crosses your face, even as a swipe of the remaining rocky talon nearly carves your nose off. You figured out how to beat it without your Haki.

Only one thing left.

You strike out, catching the monster in the chest and cutting a deep gouge into the rock. The force of your hit, combined with its reduced weight, sends it flying backwards. Back, back, back, until it crashes into the pile of boulders that the commanders left in their wake. Huge boulders, massive chunks of rock that lie where they fell. Enormous stones that rumble as your rock monster lies in their center, flying back to latch onto it and join its mass.

When it lumbers back over to you, as angry as a rock monster can be, it’s even bigger than it was to begin with. It’s perfect.

You coat your blade in Haki and follow through with a single slash, running the entire length of the monster’s body. Your sword is nothing more than a streak of black and the monster freezes as it stares at you.

You finish in a deep crouch, your sword singing in satisfaction while your muscles burn pleasantly with the exertion of a hard fight. As you slowly rise to your feet, there’s a grinding sound behind you followed by twin thuds.

The monster falls and it doesn’t get back up.

“Well that certainly looked fun," your dad observes in amusement when you make your way back over to him. You beam up at him and laugh as he ruffles your hair with a single finger. Your heart is pounding with leftover adrenaline and you’re giddy from the fight.

“You said I only got one, I didn’t want to waste it!”

“And you didn’t,” your dad agrees. He bends down a little to offer you his palm and you climb on, letting him raise you up to his chest-height. From up here you can see the entire fight at once; there’s still a few dozen rock monsters and while most of your brothers work in teams of two and three, the commanders are plowing through them like water. It’s almost hypnotic to watch Marco’s flames ignite and flare in swirling patterns. Thatch’s swords are two circles of pure silver as he swings them faster than you can see from here.

“How’d I do?”

“Outstanding,” your dad praises and you smile so brightly you have to be glowing, “Your technique improves every time I see it.”

Your smile dims a little bit.

“I’m still not strong enough, though.”

“Technique is the harder of the two to gain,” your dad assures you, pulling you in closer to his chest, “Strength will come. Be patient.”

With the last of the rock monsters vanquished, all that’s left to do is follow the map through the cave created by the avalanche. Whoever this map belonged to must have trusted their army of angry boulders to handle any potential invaders because after all that, there’s only an imposing door that falls to a single suggestion from the heel of Marco’s sandal.

After he kicks the door open, you all file inside the massive cavern. It’s dark, but Atmos and Fossa light up their torches while Marco lets his shoulders ignite.

Your mouth drops open when you can finally see.

Gold.

Everywhere.

In every direction, filling every last bit of the cave, it’s treasure. You’ve never seen this much treasure in your life.

Your dad laughs, loud and booming and utterly brimming with delight. Thatch lets out a loud whistle and claps Rakuyo on the back. Fossa pulls out his cam-snail and starts wandering around taking pictures. Marco rests his hand on your shoulder and takes in the sight with you.

For a while, everyone just explores. You split off to go wander, running your hands through the piles to feel the cold gold slide off your fingers. This is the coolest treasure hunt you’ve ever been on. You wonder what you could buy with this much money; probably pretty much anything.

It’ll keep the ship stocked for a while, that’s for sure. Even if it won’t be nearly as impressive a number split sixteen ways, but that’s the problem with a massive crew.

You wander back over to where your dad is sitting.

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” you tell him. You dad laughs and pats you on the back.

“Take any piece you want,” your dad smiles warmly as he stares down at you. You stare up at him, then look back at the mountainous piles of treasure, then back at him again. You blink. He’s still there. You pinch yourself. With Haki.

Okay, not an illusion.

“Really?”

“Really,” your dad nods.

“Really really?”

Your dad laughs.

“Consider it an early birthday present.”

“My birthday isn’t for months,” you point out.

“Very early!”

At your dad’s encouraging, you step back towards the piles of treasure. It’s straight out of a fairy tale, with piles of gold coins littered with crowns and golden trinkets and shiny gemstones in all different colors, long strands of elegant pearls and fine jewelry and even the occasional jewel-encrusted dagger scattered among the coins. You’re tempted to take a gold coin, but you already have five and this is the prize at the end of a very long, very complicated, and most importantly very fun treasure hunt. You want something a little more interesting than a single coin.

You dig through the piles alongside the rest of your brothers, although you’re hunting for treasure instead of helping them start sorting and cataloguing.

It takes you a while to find what you want, but by the time they start piling handfuls of treasure into burlap sacks, you fish the piece you’re looking for out of the heap.

Your dad is watching you in amusement.

“Find something you’d like?” he asks warmly, draining the last of the single sake jug that Marco let him bring on the hunt.

“If I made us matching bracelets, would you wear it?” you ask.

Your dad doesn’t hesitate.

“Absolutely.”

“Then I want these!”

You hold out two rubies, both glittery and polished. One of them is much bigger than the other, but they make for a nice matched set. Your dad shakes his head in exasperation.

“Andrea, I said one.”

“Well one’s for you!” you answer cheerfully.

There’s a pause.

“She has a point,” Atmos laughs.

“Well, how can I argue with that?” your dad reaches down to ruffle your hair with one finger, “Happy early birthday.”

Back on the ship, it takes you and the dozen brothers who volunteer to help you a full week to finish the matching bracelets, which you weave out of twine (yours) and long strips of sailcloth (your dad’s). Blamenco helps you make settings for the stones to turn them into charms. They look really good; the red goes nicely with the brown strands and you like the way the gem lies against your wrist. When you proudly present him with his bracelet, he’s good to his word and immediately reaches down so you (and Marco and Namur) can tie it on.

When he straightens and shows it off so the nurses and the rest of the crew on deck can ooh and ahh over it, because the ruby is very nice and you all worked really hard on the complicated braiding pattern, you feel all warm and fuzzy. He’s wearing it because you made it for him.

You know he’d rather sell the gem. Every bit of money goes right back into the ship and the crew and the island of Sphinx and the ruby is a nice one, it would sell for a pretty Berry. But instead, he’s wearing it around his wrist.

Because you made it for him.

It’s a little scary how much that means to you.

This world is a dream (maybe). But he’s your dad and he loves you and that’s real.

You are going to save him.

And Thatch.

And Ace.

No matter what it takes.

You are not going to let your family die.

Things are good. Life is pretty normal (for a given value of normal when you live on the Moby Dick and sail the turbulent seas of the New World). You train with the commanders as much as your dad will let you, you ask to train with the other divisions and your dad says no, you go off with the various divisions on supply trips and whatever missions are short enough that you’re allowed to tag along, you beg your dad to let you fight alongside the crew and he says absolutely not, you visit islands and hang with the nurses and read lots of books and let Rakuyo attempt to teach you how to read a map (not your strong suit but you are slowly getting better). You’re thirteen now and you’re getting stronger every day.

But the cloud of anxiety that hands over your head gets bigger every day too. Ace joined the crew about three years ago. You’re doing everything you can to be ready, but you’re running out of time.

 Ace submits his first mission report (Marco has been on his ass about it for long enough that he finally gives in and does the paperwork he’s supposed to have been doing this whole time) and you’re so caught up with everything on your mind that it doesn’t even occur to you why that might be a problem until your dad summons you both onto the deck, the single sheet of paper crushed between bloodless fingers.

“You let her fight with you?!” your dad demands, shaking the paper for furious emphasis. Ace’s face twists in confusion. Your eyes widen because you already know exactly what’s going to come out when he opens his mouth again.

“Um… yeah? She does it all the time.”

Silence falls over the ship and the look on your dad’s face is indescribable.

“Is this true?”

You’ve never heard your dad’s voice so angry. It sends a shiver down your back and your stomach goes cold; you always hated when your parents got mad at you. Whitebeard is usually so even-tempered that you can’t remember the last time he raised his voice at you. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever yelled at you.

Behind you, Ace has gone stock-still, utterly shocked by your dad’s unexpected reaction. That’s your bad. You did convince him it was normal, after all.

The entire deck is silent. Your brothers are staring in silence, watching the standoff between you and your dad who’s gotten increasingly paranoid about you getting hurt over the years. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Then you meet his eyes.

Fuck, he’s furious. You’ve only seen that vein in his neck a few times and it was never, ever because of something you did.

There’s a lot of ways you can play this. You’re thirteen. It would be the most natural thing in the world to lean into your teenage hormones and shout and rage about how unfair it is for him to treat you like so much less than your brothers. But even though that would fit with the little acts of rebellion you’ve been easing into, it will make everyone watching side with your dad. And he’s wrong about this.

Objectively, he’s wrong. You’re only thirteen and you’ve already unlocked both your Armament and Observation Haki; if he really wants to keep you safe, the best possible thing he can do is train you himself. Seriously train you, not the kiddie lessons he’s been insisting on for the last decade.

And yes, you understand what he’s afraid of. There were only so many times your brothers could suddenly drop everything to go on a mission and refuse to let you out of their sight when they came back before you put together the dots. You’re well aware that the Marines, bounty hunters, pirates and other generally greedy and stupid people of the world have been trying to kidnap you since your bounty poster came out. Among a crew of New World pirates and monsters, you stick out like a sore thumb as an irresistibly easy target. Which is all the more reason for you to get stronger; you cannot afford not to be strong. You’re not strong enough yet and you can’t even imagine how much weaker you’d be without Teach’s training.

You love your dad, you really do, but it pisses you off because you know for a fact that if the body of the baby you got stuffed into was a boy, then by now you’d be stronger than everyone on board but him and the commanders. Here’s the thing, though. As much as the misogyny royally pisses you off, you’re not actually thirteen. You were twenty-eight when you got blipped into existence here and by now you’ve entered your forties. You’re an adult and you know how to handle anger.

“Yes, it is,” you say calmly. Predictably, that answer only stokes his rage. All around you, your brothers flinch backwards out of the line of fire. But you let all of that pass by you and hold eye contact with your stubborn ass of a father. “And it’s been going on for a long time. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d make me stop and I wasn’t willing to risk that.”

The Haki that bursts out is like nothing you’ve ever felt. Well, you’ve felt it before, there have been a few memorable fights over the years that demanded Whitebeard unleash his Conqueror’s Will. But it always just washed over you harmlessly, a protective blanket that shielded you from everything.

Now though? Now the full weight of your father’s fury bears down on you and your own anger—righteous anger because you are not a child, you are in the right and everything you are doing is in the name of protecting the people that you love—fuels your own willpower. All around you, your brothers wince and stumble and more than a few of them drop. But you? You don’t even blink.

“Who else.”

It’s an order from a Conqueror. You take a deep breath, acknowledging your own fury with it because how dare he, he has made it crystal clear that he is your father, not your captain, and he doesn’t get to give you orders without giving you the same respect he gives the rest of his men. Then you breathe out and release it.

“Alexandria. I know it wasn’t just Ace, tell me who else.”

“I’m not going to tell you,” you say evenly.

“YOU WILL TELL ME THIS INSTANT!”

“No, I won’t. And yelling at me isn’t going to change my mind.”

“EDWARD ALEXANDRIA, YOU WILL TELL ME THE TRUTH, NOW!”

Oof, full named. Well, it’s not actually your name. Still isn’t pleasant.

God, if you were actually thirteen, you just know this fight would turn into a core memory. It sucks enough as it is, and you’re old enough to understand where his anger is actually coming from. Edward Newgate loves his daughter—loves you—and he’s known since the day he found you how dangerous life on a pirate ship is. He’s already lost people he loves; Oden and his family to start with. You know how much it hurts to lose your brother. You don’t blame him for being afraid to go through that pain again. He was an orphan, who never had anyone to love him or look out for him, and he probably did some dramatic bullshit like swear an oath to Davy Jones that he’d never let anything happen to you.

“We both want the same thing,” you say quietly. The louder he yells, the softer you talk. You can feel the conflicting emotions surrounding you, especially Ace’s guilt at thinking he caused this, but the calmer you stay, the more unreasonable your father will look when things cool down and your brothers have a chance to think about it. “We want to protect the people we love. I want to be strong. I like fighting. I’m good at it and I want to get better. And I can’t do that if you don’t let me.”

“I AM YOUR FATHER! I AM DOING WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU!”

“I know you think that,” you answer in the same tone, never raising your voice above a murmur, “But if you really want to do what’s best for me, you’ll make sure I’m strong enough to protect myself.”

Another wave of Haki bursts out, fear fueling your father’s outrage. You know you got through to him, just like you know that he probably had some flash to the Marines or another Emperor taking advantage of you if he let you go out on your own, and the blast of emotion burns terror onto your tongue. The thought of anything happening to you terrifies him. As much as you love your father, men like him do not handle fear well, no matter what they might think.

“ALEXANDRIA—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish.

“I’m going to my room.”

The Conqueror’s Haki cuts off just as abruptly as it began. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. Marco’s face is twisted into something that looks almost painful and Thatch is wringing his hands together so tightly they’ve gone white. None of your brothers can make eye contact with you.

You’re right.

You’re right and they know it. But as much as they’re good people, they are first and foremost their father’s sons and your older brothers and they’re all just as terrified of losing you as he is. Teach, though. Teach is looking at you. There’s something considering on his face, like he’s getting a good look at you for the first time. You wonder if you can use that.

Whitebeard looks absolutely stricken; the anger is still there but it’s starting to set in that between the two of you, you’re not the one who threw a temper tantrum.

“Whatever you decide to do, you can do it tomorrow. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

You turn around before you have to see his face and walk past Ace, who’s got an expression of utter horror that you quite frankly could’ve gone your whole life without seeing, heading for the door to the Moby’s interior. You grab the handle and pause, feeling hundreds of conflicted eyes on your back. You turn.

“That goes for all of you,” you say, just as calmly.

Chapter Text

“Alex?”

You’ve heard every variation of your given name tonight; Lex, Lexa, Lexie, LP, Andy, Andry, Al, Alcie, Allie, Ali-gator (that one’s Thatch), and a dozen others because your brothers and sisters can’t follow instructions to save their lives. But only Ace calls you Alex.

You’ve turned everyone away tonight. Luckily, your dad realized that you were serious about not wanting to see him right now; you managed to keep your cool up on deck, but if you have to listen to him attempt to make peace by explaining how he’s only trying to keep you safe because he loves you and you’re his little girl and he can’t handle the thought of anything happening to you, you’re going to bite his ear off. And you are seriously fast and your Haki is nothing to laugh at, if you get sufficiently pissed there’s a real chance someone will end up in the operating room and there are a lot of reasons why you really don’t want that.

 Unfortunately, everyone else has made an attempt to talk to you. There might as well be a fucking parade in the hallway outside your door. Speaking of the door, there’s a thud.

You look down at your notebook, where your deliberately messy handwriting and unreadable scribbles of shorthand contain a decade’s worth of your notes on all the events you remember following Luffy’s departure from Foosha Village, and let out a deep sigh.

Ace has settled on the ground, his back to your door, and you can already tell he’s going to sit vigil until morning if you don’t let him in.

Fuck.

You really love him but he’s so frustrating sometimes. And god knows he doesn’t need anything else to feel guilty about.

With a frustrated groan, you shut your notebook and walk over to the door. You open it and Ace jumps to his feet, looking down at you with guilt-ridden eyes.

“Go away.”

“Look, I know you’re angry—”

You shake your head to cut him off.

“I’m not angry.”

Ace pauses, his head lifting in confusion because he honestly can’t process that someone could not be angry after getting the dressing down of a lifetime in front of the whole crew. But as far as you see it, you’re not the one who humiliated themself. Your dad probably has no interested in talking to anyone tonight, either.

“You’re… not?”

“No. I’m tired.”

“Alex, I… I’m really sorry. This whole thing was my fault and I should’ve realized something was off—”

“Can you just stop?” you snap, cutting him off mid-sentence, “This isn’t your pity party, okay? You don’t get to be guilty about this, it has nothing to do with you.”

“Uh… but I—”

“He was gonna find out eventually. Ace, I am so. Fucking. Tired. Of all of this. Do you have any idea what it’s like? I grew up—I am growing up on the Moby Dick. My dad is the Strongest Man in the World and his crew is full of monsters. I want to be strong, just like they are. And instead of training me to do that, they all expect me to be okay just sitting back and letting everyone else protect me instead. And you know why?!”

Ace opens his mouth to answer but you shoot him a look of pure fire.

“Because I’m a girl.”

Ace doesn’t say anything but you can see it on his face that it’s never actually occurred to him that anyone would care about things like that. And why would it? He was raised by a cranky bandit lady.

“If you really want to help,” you say as Ace looks up at you hopefully, like a puppy when you wave a treat in front of its nose, “Then leave me alone.”

You’re sitting in one of the common rooms drawing the view out the porthole (Blue. It’s all just blue.) when Marco tracks you down. The room is empty because all of your brothers took one look at the scowl on your face and cleared out, but that just made it real easy for your brother to find you.

“Lexa, Pops want to talk to you,” Marco says softly. You scoff, jamming your pastel into the page and taking vicious satisfaction in the way the stick of pigment squishes into the paper.

“I’m sure he does,” you mutter under your breath, before flipping your sketchbook closed and dropping it and your pastels onto the bench. Marco holds out his hand for you and for a second, all you can do is stare. Is he serious? This entire situation happened because you’re sick of being treated like a child, why the hell does he think that is a good idea right now?

“I’m not holding your hand,” you tell him outright. He freezes, his hand closing awkwardly in midair before he clears his throat and regains his composure.

“Right.”

Marco sighs. He sounds exhausted. It doesn’t look like he slept much last night. You wait for him to start walking, but he just keeps standing there.

“Lexa, I…” he starts. Then he cuts off and sighs again. You let out a huff, glancing through the porthole to the cloudless sky and churning ocean beneath it. He’s clearly got something he wants to say and unless he’s going to tell you that your dad was completely wrong and he’s going to start training you like you’ve been asking for this whole time, you really are not interested right now. “I know this has been really frustrating for you, but—”

Oh, there it is! There’s the “but.” There’s always a goddamn “but.”

You whirl around on him before you can stop yourself.

“But what? You think I don’t know what he’s scared of? If he’s so scared of losing a child, why doesn’t he have any problem sending the rest of you out to fight? Is it because he doesn’t really think of you all as his kids?”

“What? No! Lexa, how could you even say that?”

“What then? Is it because I’m weak? Because I’m only stronger than half of the crew?” you shoot back. Marco’s hands are curled into fists and he presses them to his forehead in a clear attempt to keep hold over his composure. Instead of answering your question, he breathes out slowly.

“I talked to Whitey Bay last night,” Marco says. Your eyes widen; he must’ve been pretty shaken by everything yesterday if he went to his big sister for advice. “It was a long time ago now, but she and Pops had some pretty rough arguments back in the day. To be honest, I don’t know all the details but I think it could be helpful for you to talk to her. I don’t know if it will change anything, but there are some things she might understand better than we do. I just…”

Marco pauses, clearly trying to think of how to say it. You wait.

“I know you’re frustrated, but this isn’t as simple as… it’s not just because you’re our sister, Lexa. You’re a tough kid but you’re still a kid. We all want you to get to be a kid. That’s something that so many of us didn’t get to have and we don’t want you to go through that. You shouldn’t have to worry about fighting Marines or anyone else.”

When Marco finishes talking, you just stare at him. He looks really conflicted and it’s clear that he really thought hard about what to say. And you understand what he’s saying. You know how much he loves you, and you know how much he loves your dad, but the hypocrisy is driving you insane. At your age, he was already a deckhand.

“I’m not asking to fight Marines and other crews,” you remind him when you’ve finished deciding what part of his speech to pick apart, “I don’t want to have to fight anyone. I want you all to train me to be strong enough that if I ever have to fight someone, if you guys aren’t around and I have no choice but to stand and fight, I’ll have a real chance. I know you understand the difference.”

Marco winces.

“Lexa, that’s not my decision.”

Instead of answering that, you just stare at him. You stare at him until he starts to shift under your gaze and you wonder suddenly which of the two of you is technically older.

“If you were me, what would you do?” you ask. To his credit, he doesn’t answer immediately. There’s no patronizing shut-down, no instant avowal that he’d do exactly as his father asked, nothing but the furrowing of his brow.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers and you can appreciate that. Until he adds, “But I wouldn’t go behind my captain’s back.”

You frown.

He’s not your captain.

Your dad is sitting at his desk when Marco leads you to his room. He disappears and closes the door behind him, leaving you and your dad alone. On one hand, you’re glad that this isn’t happening in front of an audience. On the other, you really wish that it wasn’t happening in here. Your dad’s room has always been a safe space.

You doubt that you’re ever going to be in here again without remembering whatever’s going to happen next.

Your dad leans down, offering you his palm. You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the second time today. You are not in the mood to be hoisted around. It doesn’t take long for him to get the message, and to his credit, your dad meets you in the middle. Being very mindful of all the medical equipment, he gets out of his chair and settles down on the floor across from you.

He absolutely towers over you but the gesture still matters.

“Well?” you ask. You stay standing. Your dad looks you straight in the eyes and your back tenses because this isn’t just your dad, this is the Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates and Emperor of the New World handing out a sentence for wrongdoing.

Your stomach tightens.

“This was not an easy decision, but given all the factors, I’m confident that this is for the best,” he starts. His eyes never leave your face, never hesitate. “From now on, you will not be leaving the Moby Dick without supervision from myself, Marco, or a pair of commanders. I respect your resolve not to tell me which of my sons has been going behind my back. However, until you decide to tell me the truth, I am suspending any and all further training.”

Your jaw drops in outrage.

“For how long?!” you demand. Whitebeard just holds your gaze.

“Until you tell me the truth.”

No. Not going to happen. There’s less than a year left until Thatch finds the Devil Fruit, you can’t risk anything happening that will result in Teach doing something unexpected; your only chance to save your family is to use the knowledge you have of the future. You can’t risk anything changing now.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” you bite out, heart pounding because you’ve been having flashbacks to those episodes, the cut-screen of Thatch lying on the deck in a pool of his own blood, Ace bent double on the scaffold and crying helplessly as he watches his family die for a chance to save him, Luffy’s head thrown back with unseeing eyes as Ace’s blood soaks through his vest, Whitebeard shouting “THE ONE PIECE… IS REAL” before dying on his feet with a hundred different mortal wounds on his front.

Your dad exhales through his nose.

“Then I suppose it will be suspended indefinitely.”

You clench your jaw, fists tightening as you fight for control over your emotions. You thought you’d gotten most of it out last night, you know that you’re angry and emotional and also a hormonal teenager and you really, really, really don’t want to say anything that will hurt him just because you’re angry, but you can’t keep it all in.

“Why am I different?” you demand, your voice choked-up and your eyes filling up with frustrated tears, “You say that everyone on this ship, the crew, the nurses, the allied captains, they’re all your children. But you don’t treat any of them the way you treat me. Why??? Is it because I’m a girl? Because I’m younger than them?”

You break off for long enough to take a deep breath and then keep going.

“I’m not reckless! You know I’m not! I never bite off more than I can chew, I know what I can handle and what I can’t. I’m not asking for anything crazy! You have no idea what I’m capable of and you never will if you keep treating me like glass!”

For a while, your dad just stares at you. His jaw is tight and the crease in his forehead makes your stomach flip. You can’t tell if he looks more angry or sad.

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie!” you protest immediately. Guilt pulses in your stomach and makes your mouth dry. Shame burns bright red on your face. Anger spikes your heart rate until you can feel your blood pulsing through your veins. But all of them pale in comparison to the honest-to-god terror that wraps its icy fingers around your lungs and squeezes until every breath is a chore.

If you do nothing, your family will die. Thatch will take a knife to the back and Ace will die saving Luffy from Akainu and your dad will make his last stand shaking the world to its core.

You have no idea how to stop it. You have plans, sure—hundreds of them—but you have no idea if any of them will work. There’s only two things you do know: Teach is a New World pirate who’s beloved by his crew and much, much stronger than you are, and that you’ll regret it forever if you don’t give everything you have to try and save your family.

It hurts to see your dad so upset. You feel like a fucking monster. But there was never any other option.

“You deliberately went behind my back to do something you were explicitly forbidden from doing. You tricked your brother into disobeying my orders. And you have jeopardized the trust that every member of this crew has placed in you. At the very least, you owe me an explanation for that.”

You inhale sharply, your back teeth grinding against each other in sheer frustration. The words are burning on your tongue. He wants to know why? Because they’re all going to die and you’re still too weak to do jack shit about it.

“I think I’ve made it extremely clear,” you bite out through clenched teeth as your hands literally tremble with rage, “How important it is to me to get stronger. I tried everything I could think of to change your mind. And nothing I tried made any difference at all.”

“I have let you train with my strongest sons since you were five,” your dad growls. Your head snaps up to his gaze and you force him to see the outrage burning in your eyes.

“Because they were the ones you could trust to hold back against me.”

“You are a child!” your dad thunders, “You are my child, and I refuse to put you in danger!”

“Ugh! Are you— I AM IN DANGER!” your temper finally breaks through.

Your hands fly up to your head, aggravated fingers yanking at your hair until the sting is painful enough to ground you. With a loud breath, you exhale through your mouth. When you’re calmer, you slowly open your eyes to see your dad watching you with that fucking heartwrenching twist to his face. And his eyes have a distinctly wet sheen to them and something’s building at the corner of his eyes and—

You jerk your head away to stare at the floor instead. For all your “men don’t handle fear well” shit, you’re a goddamn hypocrite. The sight of your dad… the sight of your dad crying… You’re a coward who can’t even look him in the eye. Your dig your fingernails into the meaty part of your palms and force your voice to stay quiet and steady.

“I have had a multi-million Berry bounty on my head since the day that Marines found out I existed. I have a right to be able to protect myself. And I know you know that.”

Otherwise, he never would’ve agreed to let you start training at all.

The room is silent. There’s nothing but the gentle sway of the ship sailing through calm waters. It’s an eternity before your dad speaks and you can’t breathe the entire time.

“Alexandria… I’m so sorry. I can’t give you what you’re asking for. I… I can’t.”

You look down at the floor, mostly to give yourself something to focus on while you fight back the tears welling up in your eyes. You take another breath but it feels shallower than the other ones.

You lick your lips because they’re suddenly drier than Alabasta and ball your hands into fists.

“You were never going to let me join the crew, were you?” you ask quietly. Your chest feels tight and you’ve never, ever wanted to be wrong about something so badly in either of your lives. All you want to do in this moment is wake up. You want to go home, to your real family, to your real body, to your real parents and real siblings and your cats and your friends and your job and your entire life that are all waiting for you on the other side of this messed up hallucination dream not a dream not a dream and you desperately push down the nagging fear that you’ll never get back to them because you can only handle one crisis at a time and you’re dancing on the cusp of your absolute limit. You don’t want to hear his answer. But you already know it.

Whitebeard sighs and he sounds more lost than you’ve ever heard him.

“I don’t know.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. It’s hot and the salt stings your skin and it feels like something breaking beyond repair. With a slow exhale, you nod.

“That’s what I thought.”

Your jacket feels too heavy suddenly, and even though you’re cold, it’s unbearably hot with it on. Your dad doesn’t say anything else. You look up at him and he doesn’t flinch when you meet his eyes, but you can tell how close of a thing it is.

“I wanted to be on your crew someday,” you tell him. You lick your lips again and swallow and later you’re going to chug a gallon of water because you’re going to need to replenish your fluids after this. “I really wanted you to be my captain. And I still love you. You know that, right?”

“I love you too,” he says immediately, and god you wish this wasn’t so devastating but it feels like something reached into your core and ripped out all the most important things all at once. You aren’t crying, that’ll come later. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. It’s funny. You’re doing this because you love them too. But there’s nothing to say to that. Instead, you just quietly peel your jacket off, folding it neatly because you don’t want to ruin Izou’s hand-stitching before placing it on the floor.

Then you leave.

For the first time in over a decade, you’re not wearing your father’s mark.

You might not ever wear it again.

Your family leaves you alone for the first day. When there’s a hesitant knock on the door on day two, with a careful voice calling out “Ali-gator?”, you know they’re expecting you to still be furious. Instead, you open the door, fully dressed in plain overalls and a striped t-shirt, and grin at Thatch.

“Morning!” you smile cheerfully. You pretend not to notice the tray full of food in his hands. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

“Uh… not yet. I wanted to bring you something first.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet. I was just on my way to breakfast though.”

And with that, you skip off down the hall. You can feel Thatch’s shock following you, and you’re not ashamed to admit that you bask in it. You’re still absolutely pissed. You actually can’t remember a time that you’ve ever been this angry for this long. But when it comes down to it, you love your pirate family even if they’re a bunch of emotionally repressed overprotective assholes. And you’re officially on a timer. You’re not going to waste the time you have left with them being pissy no matter how much they might deserve it.

The mess hall goes quiet when you skip through the doors. You hum all the way up to the buffet line, and pile a plate high with your favorites, greeting everyone you pass with big smiles. Then you make your way over to your usual spot at the Commanders table, plop yourself down between Ace and your dad, and dig in with your usual gusto.

Your Observation Haki is going wild like it’s never gone before. Every single person in the room is staring at your back, which is missing your father’s mark for the first time ever, and everyone who isn’t staring at your back is watching you like a live grenade.  

Your dad hesitates, and you have the vague sense that Marco and Jozu are making insistent gestures in your direction, but you don’t look up from your food. Eventually, your dad clears his throat and says, “Good morning, Andrea.”

You swallow the food in your mouth and make yourself smile, thinking about how much you love him and not at all about how the sight of him is making you so angry your hands are shaking, before answering with a, “Morning, dad!” that sounds poisonously sweet even to your ears.

You go back to your food immediately. You can feel a slight drop in the tension at the table, the slightest bit of relief that things are back to “normal.” But they’re not normal, and everyone knows it.

“So…” Haruta starts, trying to think of something to say, but he just trails off without finishing. You steal a piece of bacon from Ace’s plate. When he doesn’t react, you steal another one. When that doesn’t stop him from just staring at you with those big, guilty eyes, your stomach tightens and you stuff your stolen bacon into your mouth.

They all know what happened. Even with a thousand people on the ship. With a very public blowup and you locking yourself in your room for a day? They all know.

Your Observation Haki stretches out, taking in the room without you having to lift your head, and you wonder how it’s possible to be surrounded by people who love you and still feel completely alone.

These are the Whitebeard Pirates. They’re your family. Your dad and your hundreds of brothers and sisters and all of them love you so much they would die for you in a heartbeat. You know that. But they all have something you don’t. Something you’ll never have.

They’re all part of the crew.

You might be part of the family—you are part of the family—but it’s not the same thing.

You look for Izou but he’s not here. You’ll go find him later today. You need to ask him for new clothes. You need an entire new wardrobe, actually, and the sooner you ask for it the better. You’ve got everything figured out. For now, your most important priority is to not tip them off.

It’s been a frustrating couple of weeks. When your dad said you were banned from any and all training, he wasn’t kidding. And your brothers took that as fucking gospel. All of them—not just the commanders.

It gets so bad that if you even wander onto the deck in the middle of a division’s training session, they all stop immediately until you leave.

You feel like you’re on the fucking Truman Show. And what’s worse is that a lot of them are pissed at you. Maybe pissed is the wrong word, none of them can stay mad at you for long, but they are not happy that you went behind your dad’s back.

Still, as much as your brothers are appalled that you would disobey an order from their captain and then refuse to confess everything, a lot of them are sympathetic. None of them say so explicitly—there’s a quiet manhunt going on in the ranks as your brothers attempt to figure out who the hell would dare go against your dad’s orders and fight you— but you’ve been getting a lot more rueful smiles and encouraging advice and supportive head pats. And you might not be allowed to go with them on supply runs or smaller missions, but when you sit with the eighth division at breakfast instead of your usual spot at the Commanders’ Table, they spare no detail in recounting the fight they had against the Sperry Pirates, their powers and strategies and how they handled them. Or when you climb up to the crow’s nest, whichever brothers are on duty immediately hand you a spyglass and start pointing out everything there is to see. Little things like that.

The Moby Dick is finally docked on an island after weeks at sea. You won’t stay for long; as far as you’ve been able to piece together, Haruta received a request for aid from the island’s mayor, something about trade routes and pirate interference, and your dad wants to check it out personally.

The landing party is getting ready to disembark—it’s your dad, Haruta, and an assortment of brothers from across the divisions that are especially familiar with the island and this area of the New World—when your dad seeks you out from where you’re sitting cross-legged on the deck, reading a book.

“Would you like to come?” your dad offers.

You look up from your book, fingers tightening around the pages as you look over the railing. You’re still allowed to read on deck. For now. The shoreline stretches out as far as your eyes can see and you vaguely remember one of your brothers from Rakuyo’s division telling you this is the largest island in the New World. It’s bound to be full of exciting new things and you haven’t left the ship in over a month. You’re not even allowed to go on supply runs because there’s only one commander on board.

But going with him means spending the whole day with him and right now it’s all you can do to make it through a meal sitting next to him. The anger bubbling away in your stomach and leaching into your chest just grows bigger the longer you force it down. Every time it threatens to break free and shatter your act, you just think about Thatch lying face down on deck and the nausea and gnawing fear eat away the rage.

“No thanks.”

There’s nothing to do right now but wait. Less than six months left.

Marco pushes open the door—his familiar presence brushing against your outstretched Haki— and you acknowledge him with a tilt of your head without breaking your stance, holding the last pose until your arms are trembling from the effort of keeping your sword pointed at the same angle.

Whatever he wants, you hope it’s fast. Since you’re not allowed to train with the commanders anymore, you’ve put together a grueling training regimen that you can do alone without breaking anything in your room and you’ve still got hours left for today. Sweat drips down your back, making it harder to keep your grip on your sword and you try to think of it as extra training instead of an inconvenience that your room has such bad air flow. That’s why you had the door open earlier.

“Lexa.”

Marco’s voice makes you freeze. Actually, you were trying to stay still, so the unexpected weight in your brother’s voice startles you out of your pose. You turn around to look at him because the sound of your name was exhaustion mixed with disappointment and more than a little scolding and you have no idea what you did to deserve that.

“What?” you ask, genuinely confused. He’s standing in your doorway, posture rigid and shoulders squared back. The confusion grows to a gnawing pit in your stomach when he crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you sternly.

“You know the rules.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you stare at him in bewilderment.

“Marco, what are you talking about?”

His hands curl into fists—one of the few nervous gestures he has—and he takes a breath.

“Any and all training means any and all,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes. Your mouth drops open as shock hits you like a freight train. Which is to say it plows straight through you, loud enough to deafen the entire world, forceful enough to slam all the air out of your lungs, painful enough to rip at your chest and organs and splatter your sanity all over the walls.

For about a minute, a full sixty seconds that last for an eternity, you can only stare at him. He tries his best to mask his discomfort but despite that, he holds firm.

“…are you joking.”

Your voice comes out in a flat hiss. Marco doesn’t say anything. He just keeps his mouth pressed together in a tight line and watches you with that same hard expression that hides everything else your Haki can feel.

“Marco, I’m in my room, by myself. You cannot be serious.”

“Lexa,” Marco warns. Your eyes widen at the tone that’s sharp enough to cut. “Please don’t make me tell you again.”

Your jaw drops. A huff of air escapes your open mouth in utter disbelief. He’s serious. You are less than five months from the arrival of a Devil Fruit that will kick off the chain of events that will kill your dad and brothers and rip your family apart, and now you’re not even allowed to practice by yourself in your own fucking room?!

“No.”

Marco jerks back and the hesitation is gone in an instant. You square your shoulders and glare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“No.” you repeat angrily, narrowing your eyes to glare at him, “I’m not allowed to train with you guys? Fine. But this is my room, you can’t barge in here and—”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Doing what? Minding my own business in the only place I have any privacy?”

“How. Long?” Marco demands slowly.

“How long do you think?!” you snap back, fury slowly building. “You can’t seriously expect me to just sit around all day, I don’t care what dad wants!”

Your proclamation ends with the two of you glaring at each other. Well, you’re glaring. Marco is just watching you in stony-faced silence.

“Give me your sword,” he says quietly.

“What?! No!”

“Having a weapon is a privilege. Whitebeard is the captain of this ship; his word is final. I don’t like this any more than you do, but there are consequences for defying the captain.”

Marco reaches out and takes hold of your wrist while you’re too stunned to move. His grip is gentle. When you try to pull away, the hold is as solid as iron.

Horror seizes you by the chest as the realization sets in.

Marco is going to take your sword. Your sword. The sword your dad gave you, the sword you’ve been training your heart out for the last six years to master, the sword that buzzes angrily against your Observation Haki, protesting furiously as Marco’s fingers close around her hilt.

“Marco, stop.”

Your voice comes out panicked but that’s all you can do. You can’t move. You can’t breathe. That’s your sword.

That’s your—

“Marco, please! Please! I swear—you can’t! It’s mine! You can’t take it!”

Marco sighs. With a tug that rips your lungs straight out of your chest, he pries your sword from your grip. You let out a strangled gasp, eyes fixed on your sword in his unreachable hand. Your hands are shaking. You can’t fucking move. Something’s wrong, you can’t move and you can’t breathe and you can’t take your eyes off it.

“I’m sorry, yoi. You can have it back when Pops says, but I can’t trust that you won’t pick it up again as soon as I’m gone.”

He turns to go. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

It’s not until he steps through your doorway that something clicks.

“Wait.”

Your voice is nearly silent. There’s something in it that makes Marco stop. Your sword is still clenched tightly in his hand. It would hurt less if he’d cut your arm off and taken that instead.

“Lexa, I told you—”

“Take this.”

You hand him a blanket. It’s fluffy and light green and you’re pretty sure it was a gift from Jozu the first time you went with his division. The island was colder than he’d been expecting and you stayed up the whole first night shivering in your bunk. Marco looks at you like you’ve grown a third eye and he slowly accepts the blanket.

“Lex—?"

“And this.”

You hand him the book that was sitting on top of the blanket. It’s your Devil Fruit encyclopedia, the one you have memorized from cover to cover.

“What are you doing?” Marco finally asks as you walk over to your desk and sweep everything up into your arms. It’s knickknacks and pens and a few more books and a jacket and a small pile of candies Thatch left for you. You march back over to the door and step through into the hallway where you shove the entire armful at him. His eyes widen and he does his best to catch it but his hands are already full and most of it goes crashing to the floor. The novelty snowglobe Namur got you from Fishman Island shatters against the wooden boards, spraying water and shards of glass everywhere.

“Lexa!”

Your lips are glued shut as you stretch them into a smile so wide your cheeks sting and you catch sight of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You haven’t crossed into fully manic yet. But your heart is thudding in your chest and you can feel adrenaline pumping more and more teenage hormones into your bloodstream and it’s rare that you feel your physical age but in this moment?

You are thirteen years old and you are fucking done.

“None of this is mine, right? It’s all just stuff you guys gave me that you can take away whenever you want. So take it.”

You storm back into your back and grab your comforter, ripping the entire thing off your bed in one motion, sending pillows and blankets and plush toys flying. You wad it and the sheets and blankets into a ball and shove it through the doorway.

“TAKE ALL OF IT!” you shout, tears pricking at your eyes as snot fills your nose. You throw pillows and more blankets and plush toys out, your pace increasing until you’re a whirlwind of frenzied motion.

“Lexa, stop! Just calm down, yoi—”

Marco tries to take a step towards you and it just spikes your rage, adding fuel to the bonfire.

“IT’S NOT MINE! I DON’T FUCKING WANT IT!”

“LEXA!”

You grab the ends of your bedpost and yank it sideways, sending your mattress crashing to the floor where it slams into your desk and one of the chairs and knocks a bunch of pictures off your wall. With a heave, you drag the entire bed frame to the doorway and push it through, blocking Marco’s path into your room completely.

“LEXA, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Marco yells, grabbing the bed frame and yanking it out of the way, “THIS ISN’T FUNNY!”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” you scream back, throwing your mattress through the door as soon as he moves the bed frame away. Blood rushes in your ears and you can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything but rage and frustration that flood your whole body and with every single thing you throw, the vicious satisfaction in your chest gets louder and louder.

The table, all the chairs, your dresser, all of it goes.

Your books are next. You rip them off the shelf by the handful, not even pausing as you hurl them at the door. The thuds and bangs as they crash into the wall feel like music to your ears. Old picture books and chapter books and atlases and map books are all mixed together and when you get to your notebooks—filled with the information you’ve spent your entire life assembling along with the only pictures you have of your real family—you don’t even fucking hesitate to rip them down and throw them out too.

You yank pictures off the wall, tearing posters and maps and drawings and the smiling faces of you and your family and friends down without caring if they rip or tear. A picture of Ace carrying you on his shoulders while you both hold as many kebabs as your hands and teeth can physically fit tears straight through the middle, cutting Ace’s face and ripping a hole right through his chest where Akainu’s fist melts him. A scream rips out of your chest and you’re crying too hard to even see as your throw it all behind you.

In the hall, Marco’s voice is joined by a dozen of your other brothers and they’re all calling out to you and trying to get through the mess, but you keep throwing more things out and they can’t get in.

You rip clothes off the hangers one at a time, but it’s so slow and every time something snags or a hanger breaks it just makes your frustration burn hotter, until you grab the wooden bar that everything hangs from and tear it free, ripping screws out of your closet’s walls and crushing the bar in the middle. Everything falls to the ground and you throw the broken bar on top of the pile of borrowed shit filling your doorway and start heaving piles of clothes and hangers by the handful.

The Whitebeard’s mark on the back of just about everything you have taunts you. You don’t want it, you don’t want to see it, if you had a fucking match you would set the whole fucking pile on fire. But you don’t so you just keep throwing out armfuls of clothes until your closet is completely empty.

You stand in the middle of your empty closet, chest heaving up and down and fingers burning, and look at the devastation. Your room looks like it was hit by a tornado. The only furniture left is your desk and your bookshelf. There’s only scraps of paper left on the walls. There are a few things you missed. A couple shirts. A single flip flop. A pillow. Everything that missed the doorway when you hurled it over your shoulder.

The sounds outside are getting louder and you know they’re getting close. So you shove the door shut, somehow pushing the mountain of crap out of the way enough to get the door closed and the lock clicked into place. You grab the desk and pull, dragging it all the way across your room to barricade the door shut. The bookshelf is next. You don’t have anything else to block it with. Just the pillow. You throw that on too.

As you stand in front of your blocked door, Haki assaulted by your brothers’ panic on the other side, the fury finally dies off. Nausea crawls up your throat as tears silently pour down your cheeks. Your body feel empty and fragile, just a shell of skin stretched around a core of glass that’s one gust of wind from shattering into a million pieces. It feels like throwing up after a night of drinking until your problems went away; you’re stuck in that moment when bile still burns your throat and your stomach is still revolting on you and your body locks up while your fingers cling to the porcelain bowl and your face hangs over the toilet, just waiting for that eighth shot of tequila to purge itself.

Something catches your eye. It must have fallen out of the pillowcase just now.

You pad across the room on silent feet and numbly grab the fallen object before settling down in the far corner. You pretended to lose it a long time ago. As far as your family knows, it’s long long long gone. That makes it the only thing in this world that you do own.

You clutch the plush frog from Shanks close to your chest and curl into a ball, letting the walls hold you tightly. And then you close your eyes and you sob like the world is ending.

Chapter Text

The knock on your door is quiet. It’s not like the frantic pounding or the insistent rapping from before. You don’t move from where you’re curled up with your arms around your knees.

“Ali?” Thatch calls softly. You tighten your arms and curl up even smaller. He sounds tired and worried, but mostly just sad. “It’s just me, okay? I sent everyone else away for now.”

The dried tear tracks on your face itch and you reach up to scrub at them. Your Observation Haki spreads out on its own and it latches onto Thatch’s presence like a magnet. It works a little differently for everyone, but to you, his presence feels like familiar spices and meat roasting over a fire and hair gel. Which isn’t a feeling but somehow that’s what it is.

He’s telling the truth.

The overwhelming panic and worry and guilt and shit, shit, shit, get this stuff out of the way GET THIS DOOR OPEN NOW that made you pull back your Observation in the first place are all gone. It’s just you and Thatch in the wreckage.

Fresh tears spill over and you let them fall, uncaring as they drip down your shirt and onto your hands. This is your mess and your fault and your complete responsibility to answer for. And you don’t even know where to start. That’s why you’ve still frozen on the floor.

You tore your room apart. You’ve never had a freakout like that in your entire life—either of your lives—and your chest feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton and everything else you must be feeling is muted and blurry and far away.

And your sword is still gone.

It’s getting so hard to remember what the point is. Marco took—Marco took your sword because you’re banned from training. You’re banned from training because you won’t tell your dad that Teach was the one to help you. You won’t tell your dad about Teach because if he finds out, he’ll kick Teach off the ship and you can’t let that happen. You can’t let that happen because Teach will do anything for the Devil Fruit that Thatch is going to find.

Teach is stronger than you. He’s much stronger than any of your family realizes. If Teach gets kicked off the ship and Thatch eats the fruit, it’s only a matter of time before Teach hunts him down for it. Basically, if Teach gets kicked off the ship, your only chance to save Thatch is to find the fruit first, and now you’re not allowed to leave the ship without intense supervision.

No matter how you think about it or what else you come up with, no matter how much it hurts to keep secrets from your family, no matter how angry and frustrated and overwhelmed you are, there’s no way around it.

You can’t tell them about Teach.

You…

You can’t.

“Ali?” Thatch calls again. You still don’t answer.

“You don’t have to come out, alright? I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

The lump in your throat is impossible to swallow.

Thatch knocks again. Then one more time. It’s slow and a clear signal. Two for yes. One for no.

After that, he just waits.

Your hand trembles when you raise your fist. The first tap is more of a thud than a knock. The second is barely a knock at all, it’s just your knuckles falling against the wall and staying there.

Thatch breathes a sigh of relief so strong you can hear it through the barricaded door.

“Thank you,” he says like he can finally breathe. Your stomach does a flip, lands on its face, and then does a backflip. “Do you want me to bring you something to eat?”

You’re too nauseous to even think about food. To his credit, Thatch doesn’t protest when you knock once in answer.

“Okay, that’s fine. Totally fine!”

He sounds like he means it too. It’s not like him; he’s usually the first person to swoop in when you forget to eat.

“Do you want me to leave you alone for now?”

Yes. No. You don’t know. You don’t want him to die. You can’t bear to face him. You threw a temper tantrum and destroyed your own room.

You knock once.

After a hesitant pause, a warm glow floods your Haki, mostly relief mixed with caution.

“I can keep you company then,” Thatch answers immediately. You hear footsteps and something rustling and then the floorboards creak as new weight settles against them, “I’ll be right out here, alright?”

Your hand shakes.

You knock once.

The caution is replaced by surprise.

“…do you want me to come in?”

You knock once.

With every second, the nausea grows stronger. You feel dizzy and fuzzy and sick and angry and you just want to go home. You want him to go away. You want him to scoop you up like he used to and give you a hug. You just want to fold up and disappear forever.

More tears roll down your face.

You knock one more time.

“Okay. I’m gonna come in, alright?”

He waits, but you don’t knock again. After a brief pause, there’s a rattling sound as your doorknob twists back and forth.

“Ali-gator?” Thatch calls again, still in that gentle voice that’s so unlike his usual brash teasing, “The door’s not opening, can you unblock it for me?"

Oh.

Right.

Your door is still barricaded.

You don’t know how you get it open. As far as you can tell, one minute there’s a pile of furniture in the way, and then next, the door is opening and Thatch is right in front of you as he reaches down to scoop you up in his arms as he settles against the wall. He holds you tight, his palm wrapped around the back of your head and gently pushing your face into the crook of his shoulder, his other arm wrapped around you.

It could be hours. It could be minutes. It could be days. You have absolutely no idea. But Thatch just holds you close and whispers soothing things into your ear as he rubs your back and you just soak up his presence.

The room is dark. You smashed a lightbulb in the middle of your rampage. The only light in the room is hallway light spilling in through the gap under the door.

Your stomach lets out a growl. Thatch hums, still rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I heard that one,” he comments lightly, “How about we go get you something to eat?”

You freeze at the thought of going to the mess hall right now, where your whole family will be on top of you as soon as they see you. It’s been a few hours since your meltdown so the entire fleet has probably heard about it by now.

Thatch sees your hesitation and offers, “Why don’t we go to my kitchen?”

His private kitchen is attached to the kitchens for the mess hall. It’s where he prepares all your dad’s meals and experiments with new recipes. You might have to see a few of the other chefs, but a handful of concerned siblings is infinitely better than a swarm. Plus Banshee from Ace’s old crew might be on duty and she always knows how to make you laugh.

You nod. Thatch’s cheek muscles shift and you can tell that he’s relieved. He reaches up to clean your face with a handkerchief before carefully setting you on the ground. It takes a few minutes for him to coax you over to the door, but you eventually make it.

“You ready?”

You swallow and nod once, bracing yourself for the disaster on the other side. For a second, you pause, tempted to ask your brother to carry you so you can close your eyes and pretend there’s nothing there. But you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for one day.

With a deep breath, you push open the door.

And freeze.

Your stuff is still there, alright. But instead of a haphazard pile, everything has been cleaned up. There are piles of books against the wall, sorted the way you had them on your shelves and neatly stacked. Instead of crumpled heaps of blankets and sheets, they’ve all been folded and sorted and smell like fresh laundry. Your bed sits against the wall, the mattress back on the frame, perfectly made up with your comforter and pillows and stuffed animals all in their rightful places, ready to be transplanted back. All the clothes you threw are on their hangers on a rolling wardrobe and the broken bar from your closet is nowhere to be seen. Everything smells fresh and clean and looks newly ironed and pressed. The knickknacks and souvenirs from your desk and shelves sit in a neat line against the wall. They’ve all been cleaned off and fixed up; your eyes catch on the Fishman Island snow globe. The shattered glass has been replaced and refilled, and the bigger bulb is the only indication that it was even broken at all.

What…how…

“It’s okay,” Thatch pulls you in against his side, putting one hand on top of your head and scratching soothingly through your hair. You lean in because it feels good but your brain is frozen. All you can do is stare.

Everything is fixed. It’s all cleaned up and sorted and ready to just be put back like nothing happened.

“The seventh division is still working on your pictures, they just need a little longer on some of the posters,” Thatch says.

You cling to Thatch’s arm as he leads you into the map room, where your pictures and posters and books are spread out over the tables and your brothers are using all their cartography and preservation skills to painstakingly reverse the damage you caused.

Every picture you see has been carefully laid out on the tale and pressed flat, the pieces glued back together with archival quality glue that dries completely clear. If you didn’t remember tearing through them, you’d never know any of them had been damaged at all.

The sight makes your chest catch. Your fingers dig into Thatch’s forearm and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer. He looks down at you and gives you an encouraging smile.

“You okay?”

It takes too much effort but you drag a breath in through your nose and exhale shakily. You make yourself nod because you can handle this, you broke everything and they’ve been cleaning it all up, the least you can do is see what your brother needs from you.

Thatch leads you to the back of the room, where Rakuyo is standing over a table deep in thought. For the most part, your books escaped mostly unscathed. There’s only wrinkled pages that Thatch assured you were easy for the cartographers to iron out.

But a few of them landed wrong. For the most part, you don’t care; they’re just random books and you can’t remember the last time you read any of them. If anything had to be ruined, those were the best possible options.

Except for the notebook laid out under Rakuyo’s watchful eye. The spine is snapped in half and most of the pages are ripped and crushed in on themselves. There’s a pile of papers on the table, with scraps and ripped pages laid out like a reconstructed crime scene.

It’s not any of the notebooks you use to practice forging. That secret is safe.

And then you realize which of your notebooks is sitting in pieces on Rakuyo’s desk.

Bile floods your mouth when your stomach revolts. You double over, your hands slammed over your mouth. You clutch at your face, chest heaving up and down in shallow motions and your whole body is shaking as you stare at the floor.

It’s ruined.

You ruined it. You ruined all of them.

Thatch’s hands thread themselves under each side of your chin, wrapping around to cup the back of your head. Gentle pressure tilts your face up until you’re looking into his eyes and he looks terrified. You see his mouth mouth something at you but he doesn’t speak.

“Ali! Ali, look at me, okay?”

Thatch’s voice catches up too many seconds later and your eyes water.

Portraits weren’t the only thing you used that notebook for, but all the drawings of your family were in there.

“F… fix it… fix it, please, please fix it please—”

“I’ll fix it,” Rakuyo promises, and then Thatch isn’t the only one with his arms around you. Tears drip down your face as you tremble, leaning into Rakuyo’s grip and smelling the familiar combination of sea-spray and ink, your eyes locked on the half page holding the ruined portrait of your dead brother. The only picture you have. The only picture you’ll ever have because it took you years to get it right and you don’t have it in you to make another. “I promise, I’ll fix it all.”

“You don’t have to say anything, but please just listen, yoi,” Marco starts, and it’s only because he’s holding your sword in one hand that you don’t flee from the room immediately. Without saying anything else, Marco holds your sword out to you. You snatch it back and clutch it tightly to your chest as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Marco apologizes, “You didn’t realize that you had done anything wrong, and it was unfair of me to punish you for it. Especially the way I did. I never want you to feel the way I made you feel, and I swear, I never meant to hurt you. But I did and I take full responsibility for that. Lexa, I am so sorry. You were right, that sword belongs to you and I had absolutely no right to take it from you.”

For a few seconds, you just stare at him. He stares back and he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. When you don’t say anything—or do anything, you just cling to your sword and breathe as the void in your chest slowly begins to fill back in— Marco sighs.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. But I need you to know that what I did was not right and I am so sorry.”

You still don’t answer.

Marco turns to leave, but he hesitates in the doorway. When he looks back, he looks you straight in the eyes with an expression of pure misery.

“I love you, Lexa.”

You’re still angry and heartbroken and shattered, but no matter how horrible you feel, there’s no force in the universe strong enough to stop you from whispering, “I love you, too.”

Izou runs the comb through your hair, carefully working through the damp strands and brushing it all straight. It’s pointless to hope it will stay that way; the weather approaching a summer island is always especially humid.

Your eyes are closed as you lean back against his chest, listening as he hums an old lullaby from Wano. The melody is familiar even if you don’t know the words. His fingers work through your hair in deft motions and it just feels so nice and safe and calm. It’s been a few days since your meltdown and even if you’re still not totally better, you’re a lot more… you’re better. You feel more like a person and less like a cracked pane of glass that’s going to splinter into a thousand pieces at any second.

A few of your brothers in Izou’s division are sitting at the table against the wall of Izou’s room. They’re playing cards and chatting with Thatch, who’s flipping through a cookbook and making notes in his meal planner.

It’s quiet and Izou’s room is warm and smells like cherry blossoms and sandalwood and he’s switched from brushing your hair to just running his hands through it, gently massaging your scalp and it’s exactly like being at a head spa in an ASMR video. Before you know it, you’re practically asleep in his lap.

“Do you remember when we went to the Mermaid Café?” Izou asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. You blink one eye open.

“On Fishman Island?”

Izou makes a humming sound to confirm it. His nails scratch gently at your roots before his thumbs rub at the spot behind your ears where the base of your skull meets your neck and your eyes flutter shut.

“The owner of the café wanted to meet you,” Izou reminisces as he presses harder on the spot.

“’vryone wants to meet me,” you mutter, more asleep than not. Izou laughs in agreement.

“Her name is Madame Shyarly. She’s very famous for her talents as a seer.”

“Ahuh,” you mumble as the massaging fingers press on your temples and the ever-present headache of the last few days finally starts to go away.

“I think you’ve heard of Future Sight. That’s a form of Observation Haki that anyone can learn with enough training,” Izou continues despite the way your brain is turning into mush, “Madame Shyarly’s powers are also a form of Haki, but it’s incredibly rare. It’s not the kind of thing someone can learn; you’re either born with it or you aren’t. Like Conqueror’s Haki.”

“’mhm.”

“It can be very overwhelming. She says that she struggled a lot with it when she was young and her powers were developing. There was a physical toll as well as emotional; it was incredibly hard for her to deal with the terrible things she saw, things she felt powerless to stop.”

You crack your eyes open, mostly because Izou’s hands have stopped moving and also a little because you’re not sure why you’re being treated to the personal history of a fishwoman you met one time a few years ago.

“Okay?”

“She’s confident she’ll be able to help you understand what you’ve been seeing, and to teach you to control when they happen.”

Uh, what?

“What are you talking about?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Your Observation has always been unnaturally strong,” Izou says. In the corner, Thatch nods his agreement. Clearly, he and your other brothers have given up on pretending they’re not listening. They don’t seem particularly surprised by the topic of conversation.

You sit up, suddenly wide awake as you push Izou’s hands off you.

“You think I’m having visions???” you demand and you’re not sure why the idea upsets you so much but it really does. Thatch shrugs at you a little helplessly.

“It would explain some things,” he says.

“The things Madame Shyarly described seeing,” Izou says heavily, “It’s too much for anyone to bear alone. And it’s a very rare ability, it could have felt like losing your mind without understanding what it truly was.”

Your mouth drops open and you stare back and forth between your brothers. Thatch is a commander at least, but Ledger and Joffrey and Mak aren’t at all surprised by the question. Does the whole ship think your breakdown was because you’re having Haki visions? Have they all been talking about you? What are you saying, you had a psychotic episode and destroyed everything you own less than a week ago, of course they have.

“We can help. She says that there was training that helped her understand what she saw. Even the most terrible visions turned out in ways different than she expected.”

For a second, you’re tempted. It’s a perfect excuse for everything you know. If you tell them you saw Teach betray Thatch over a Devil Fruit and then turn Ace over to the Marines to become a Warlord, they’ll believe you.

Only there’s a couple problems. Aside from the fact that you don’t want to pretend you’re a Seer for the rest of your life. Izou just said it himself; Shyarly’s visions usually don’t tell the whole story. Even if they believe what you “saw”, there’s no way that they’ll kill Teach over a vision.

He’s their brother—in the show, Whitebeard couldn’t kill him at Marineford even after he murdered Thatch and was directly responsible for Ace’s death.

Plus, even if it would save them from Blackbeard, Marineford was a tragedy.

And you’re not saying it was just bad, it was a Tragedy. A series of events caused by the heroes’ actions, because there were never any other choices they could have made. Even now, if someone taunted your dad in front of him, Ace could never not turn back. Marco could never not obey an order from his Captain. Your dad could never not spare someone from his family.

It’s not enough to just tell them what’s going to happen. If there’s a reason you’re here, it’s because you’re here to make a different choice. If you tell them about Blackbeard and Marineford, they will try to handle it themselves and it will go exactly the same.

You shake your head.

“I don’t have visions. Why would you even think that?”

Thatch’s face contorts and you can’t tell exactly what it means but it’s clear he knows you’re hiding something. There’s no accusation in his expression, but seeing the helplessness is almost worse.

“Honey, we’re just trying to understand,” Izou says. His voice is quiet but unapologetic, his grip staying soft around your wrist. If you pull back, he’ll let you go. You don’t move.

“Did dad put you up to this?” you whisper.

“No.”

You raise your head to stare at him in disbelief. Izou meets your gaze calmly and without any guilt. Observation Haki confirms that he’s telling the truth. And that he’s genuinely concerned about you.

“I’m the one who wants to know,” Izou promises. He tugs gently at your wrist and you let him pull you back towards him and onto the bed. With one arm wrapped around you, he carefully settles you back on his lap while his other hand buries itself in your hair again. “But he’s worried about you. We all are.”

Your back stiffens, anxiety running down your spine.

“I’m fine,” you answer immediately.

“Ali. You’re not.” Thatch sounds just as disappointed as he does worried and it makes your stomach tighten. Izou’s hand brushes soothingly through the strands. “We know you’re not. And we can’t help you if you won’t let us.”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of Izou’s kimono and for once he doesn’t even care that you’re creasing the silk.

“Alexandria. Do you…” Izou trails off. He never calls you by your full name. You can’t even imagine what he was trying to say. He sighs and the rest of your brothers are as silent as the grave. “You were so little we all just assumed it wouldn’t be possible, but do you… if it’s not visions… do you remember anything from before we found you?”

Your eyes widen. Of everything he could’ve said, of everything your family could’ve come up with to explain your awful behavior, you never in a million years would’ve guessed that they might guess… that. Something so close to the truth.

There’s a lump in your throat that doesn’t go away no matter how many times you try to swallow around it.

You can’t meet anyone’s eyes. Not even Thatch.

You nod.

A wall of shock hits your Observation Haki and you shiver.

Izou’s hand tightens around you. Not in any way that’s painful; it’s like he’s trying to assure himself that you’re still there. That you won’t disappear the second he lets go.

“Who are those people?” Izou asks quietly, “In your drawings?”

You’re crying before you even have a chance to process the question.

“Oh, honey,” Izou fusses, turning you around to properly wrap you up in his arms. You cry as he hugs you tight, clinging to his kimono for dear life. Your Observation Haki burns with grief and guilt as your brothers begin to understand just how much you’re carrying. But Izou isn’t done. You can feel the way he steels himself even as he holds you closer.

“Do they have something to do with why you’re desperate to get stronger?”

Eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking through them anyway, you nod.

It’s four in the morning and even the tiniest sound feels like a gunshot. The only upside to your paranoia is that your Observation Haki is as sharp as can be and your spar with Teach is a lot less one-sided than usual. He seems amused by it; for every time you slip and dodge a blow that would usually catch you, his smirk gets wider. And the wider it gets, the more it pisses you off.

Of course, even if you’re able to land a lot more hits than normal, the difference in power between you two is still outrageous and the spar ends the way it always does. With Teach winning.

In this case, he seizes the opening when you’re still reeling from a jab to the chest and grabs you by the arm. The next thing you know, the floor is no longer under your feet, your back is slamming against the ground, and all the wind in your lungs gets knocked out of them.

For a few seconds, all you can do is lie there and think about how relieved you are that the mats covering the training floor are so thick. Training with Teach has always been risky, now more than ever.

You assumed Teach would stop once your dad found out what was happening, but it was only a few days before the three-thirty-in-the-morning knock on your door. You thought about stopping. If your dad finds out that you’re still going behind his back, you honestly can’t even imagine what he’ll do. But Teach has a talent for knowing the right times, your hyper-aware Haki doesn’t feel a single other person around because this room is rarely used and deep in the belly of the ship and surrounded by storage rooms that naturally dampen sound and anyone on duty at this time of night is all the way up on deck. He knows all of your family’s blind spots.

Now, more than ever, you have to stay sharp. You have to be ready.

Teach announces that the spar is over by sitting on the ground next to you. Your eyes are still spinning so all you can see is his blurry outline that slowly comes into focus. He looks lost in thought.

That’s enough to make your stomach turn, so you gather your strength and push yourself up onto your forearms.

“Y’ever feel like you’re outgrowing this place?” Teach asks. Your eyes widen in shock and you scramble upright only to stare at him in horror.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, your heart already in your throat and pounding like it’s trying to break out. He hasn’t found the Devil Fruit yet, so why is he already talking about—

“Ah, I know you know what I’m talking about,” Teach says dismissively and you shake your head.

“Teach, I really don’t.”

Teach lets out a quiet laugh and reaches over to mess up your hair. You’re seriously too exhausted to move and that’s the only reason you put up with the feeling of his massive, sweaty palm covering your entire head and shaking it around roughly. The feeling leaves you sick to your stomach.

“All I’m saying is you’ve put up with this a lot longer than I would’ve.”

Your mouth goes completely dry and you swallow in a useless attempt to get some moisture back. Your heart is pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with the intense workout.

“Why aren’t you worried they’ll find out?”

Teach raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who says I’m not?”

It takes you a second to think of a response to that because it’s a test and your fingers dig into the mat.

“Because if you were, you’d have warned me to keep my mouth shut. And once he found out… if you were worried, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“Alright, you got me,” Teach shrugs, “Everything in this world that I worry about, that ain’t one of ‘em. Besides, you’re the one who’s got something to lose.”

You stare at him and he calmly meets your gaze as your eyes rove around his face. He’s telling the truth.

“You should be worried,” you tell him frankly, because you’ve lost a lot of sleep over the years worrying about what will happen if you get caught and Teach has years to sail the seas alone before Thatch finds the fruit. You can’t save your family if you have no idea what he’s planning. “If they find out, they’ll kick you off the crew. Assuming they don’t kill you first.”

Teach shrugs again.

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe?!” you hiss, “It was bad enough to go behind his back before. If he finds out now… Teach, he won’t forgive you.”

“Might not,” Teach agrees.

Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. Because Teach isn’t done.

“He might, though. Pops is a bleeding heart for all of us, not just you. And I’ve been on this crew a hell of a lot longer than you’ve been around. Oh, he’ll be pissed alright. But he’s not so much of a monster as to kick out one of his oldest, most devoted sons.”

Bile floods your mouth because the words sound so wrong, you know for a fact he doesn’t mean them but he sounds so sincere that for the tiniest fraction of an instant, you almost wonder if you’re wrong about him.

“Especially once I tell him how I was just looking out for my precious little sister.”

You’re on your feet before your brain even catches up, and even with him sitting down you’re still looking up at him. Blood rushes into your face and your cheeks burn with anger as you glare at him.

“Don’t ever say that again!”

You don’t know if you’re expecting Teach to laugh or get mad, but he just gives you a stomach-churning grin.

“What? You think I don’t mean it?” he asks, and your chest tightens at the sincerity behind it. It’s not like the empty way he says “Pops” or mentions your brothers. There’s something real underneath.

You want to bolt. Staying in this room a second longer is not an option.

Instead, you bend at the waist and bow as deeply as you have to in order to show your gratitude for this spar (and you are grateful, keeping up your training is more important than it’s ever been and Teach might not be worried about getting caught but you are) and not a single bit deeper.

“Thank you for the spar,” you say as quietly as you can. Then you turn on your heel and leave.

Namur knocks once as he enters the map room; your brothers all greet the Commander before returning to the maps they’re drawing. You scribble one last note before looking up from the map of this stretch of sea. Ever since Rakuyo started teaching you to read maps, you’ve been keeping your own log of the Moby’s travels and the surrounding islands.

You’re expecting Namur to head for the shelves where the sea charts are stored, but instead he just crosses his arms over his chest.

“There’s lots of reefs in this area so we’re slowing down to get through them,” he says to you specifically. You look at him in confusion.

“Okay?”

Unclear why he felt the need to seek you out to just to tell you that.

“I’ve heard these reefs are beautiful up close. Lots of different fish, coral, and there’s a rumor about a sunken ship in the area. Might find some treasure.”

Your jaw clenches and you exhale through your nose, your hand gripping your pen tighter. You turn back to your map with hunched shoulders.

“Have fun,” you mutter, trying your best to breathe through the frustration because you’d kill to go see it but you’ve been fighting with your dad for months now and you’re actively trying not to make it worse. This already sucks so badly, you’ve barely spoken to your dad in weeks and you hate it, you miss him so much and it’s horrible because you’re still so furious you can barely stand to look at him; you just want things to go back to normal but you’ll doom them all if you give in.

“Want to go for a swim?” Namur asks gruffly. You turn over your shoulder to fix him with the very most incredulous stare that you’re capable of.

“I’m not allowed,” you remind him, as if your punishment isn’t something he’s been enforcing all these months. Point made, you go back to your map.

“Lexie,” he says, calling your attention back to him. You let out a huff and turn around yet again. “Want to go?”

Then he winks at you and your jaw drops because he’s seriously going to let you come and a rush of adrenaline washes over you. You jump up from the bench, smiling so hard your face hurts. Namur pats you on the back as you run past him to go get changed.

It doesn’t take you long and he’s waiting on deck when you get back. Your dad is in his chair with Marco on his shoulder as he talks with Haruta and Rakuyo. All four of them look over when you join Namur by the railing in your bathing suit, and you freeze like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. But Namur just puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes, Haruta waves, and your dad… just gives you a small smile.

A shaky breath escapes your lungs and your heart pounds with sheer relief. You don’t know how Namur convinced him but you will fucking take this. You give your dad the most genuine smile you can—which is a tiny smile but it’s real—and you climb onto the railing before diving off the ship and into the crystal blue water.

You break the surface with perfect form, easily slipping under the waves, and the water is pretty warm and inviting and bubbles burst out of your mouth as you laugh because you missed this so much and this is pure joy.

There’s a splash behind you and then Namur is right next to you, pointing off to the side away from the Moby.

“It’s this way,” he tells you. You beam at him, your arms and legs easily treading water to keep you afloat.

“Last one there’s a rotten egg!” you call. Then you take a deep breath and dive.

Vista joins you on the deck outside Navigation that overlooks the main mast. He settles in next to you in his usual spot before patting you on the head and pulling out his kit. You’re already covered up to your elbows in steel polish, wiping at every last nook and cranny you can reach.

As he pulls out his sword, the tightness in your chest loosens just a little.

Once a month for the last six years, the two of you have cleaned and polished your swords together. The day and the time change, but it’s always right here and you’ve never missed one. Ever.

There’s a burst of emotion below; frustration mixed with fondness mixed with the desire to tug her hair out, and a corresponding feeling of fond exasperation. Vista sighs, shaking his head.

“He’s arguing with Tate again,” he observes.

“They do this every week. Why is she always surprised when he doesn’t listen?” you ask, your Observation Haki stretching out to get a clearer sense of the scene going on in your dad’s cabin just below your feet. The best time to get close to him is when he’s distracted and there’s no sadness or guilt or overwhelming frustration.

“Our Pops is stubborn, Al,” your brother shakes his head, “Not just when it comes to you, you know.”

“I know.”

“It’s not all bad.”

“I know,” you say. Vista opens his mouth to try and drive his point home but you cut him off, “No, Vista. I know. I just…”

You trail off, not sure how to say the words in a way that will do justice to the turbulence swirling around your chest. Vista just waits. Eventually, you let out an exhale that vents all the anger at once.

“I just wish he’d tell me why.”

You stare down at your sword, your face reflecting in the polished metal. You look tired. Vista sighs quietly, but he’s staring at you and waiting for you to keep going.

“I know he has a reason. A real reason. But he won’t tell me what it is!”

You look over at your brother helplessly.

“What am I supposed to do with that?!” you demand, “If he would… if he would just talk to me then maybe I would understand why he’s so against me… training? Fighting? Being a pirate? I don’t even know what it is that he’s so afraid of and no one else does either! But if he would just tell me then maybe we could figure something out!”

Vista still doesn’t say anything, although he’s stopped cleaning the hilt and set his sword gently on the deck to give you his full attention. It’s rare seeing your jovial brother so serious.

“I hate this. I hate this! You can’t think I want this anymore than dad does! I hate lying to him, I hate not being able to tell him things. But I can’t tell him! And he can’t change his mind anymore than he can just tell me why and so we’re just stuck here!”

Vista sighs slowly. It’s a heavy, thoughtful sound, and he crosses his arms over his chest to stare at you.

“It may feel like being stuck,” he says slowly. One hand reaches up to pull at the end of his mustache, “But it may also be an opportunity.”

“To do what?” you shoot back. Hopefully his pep talk gets better, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“To reach a new understanding.”

You scoff, and go back to scrubbing at the bit of dirt lodged under the dome-shaped grip. The gold gives your reflection a yellow sheen and you focus on your distorted appearance.

“That’d be great if he’d even be willing to try,” you mutter, digging your fingernail into the cloth to get into the crevices.

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

You freeze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Vista hums.

“Perhaps not now. But the time will come.”

You give him an incredulous look.

“You say that like you know something,” you say hesitantly. He can’t know, right? There’s no way he’d treat Teach with such open acceptance and love if he knew.

“I know my sister,” Vista’s hand lands on your shoulder and he uses the grip to shake you gently, “And I know my Pops.”

“I… I just…”

You trail off. Vista just watches you, his hand a firm support on your shoulder. He hasn’t said anything about your confession to Izou, but he has to know. Right?

Then again, Teach hasn’t said anything either. And that’s exactly the kind of thing he wouldn’t hold back on. Vista squeezes gently before your thoughts can wander any further and the two of you get back to work.

Chapter Text

The Moby docks at an island called Pensicola. At first, you couldn’t care less. The last few months have been busier than usual and your family is stretched thin with all the divisions assigned to missions. And then someone calls, “Hey Andy!”

You look over to see Izou and Fossa standing next to the last rowboat that hasn’t been lowered off the Moby yet. Fossa beckons you over and you don’t have anything else to do so you walk over.

“You ready to go?” Fossa asks around his cigar.

“Go?”

“We’re just waiting on you, honey,” Izou smiles. You blink. There’s two commanders, that means you’re allowed to go with them. But what’s Izou doing here? You saw the schedule, it’s only supposed to be the Fifteenth Division going to the island.

“Didn’t your division go with the First this morning?” you ask, confused because there was definitely a joint mission that went to go handle an issue with the Big Mom pirates. Marco’s division has some of the strongest fighters and Izou’s snipers are better for dealing with the weird Devil Fruits at a distance.

Izou waves a hand dismissively.

“Marco can handle a big team. Besides, I’m running low on linen and I don’t trust anyone else to pick out a bolt,” Izou answers teasingly, “Do you need to grab anything or are you ready to go?”

You spend the whole day on the island with your brothers. Izou drags you with him to a fabric store while Fossa splits off to supervise his division, and running your hands over hundreds of different fabrics— some soft, some rough and textured, some shiny and all of them in beautiful colors and patterns— is wonderful. The store is bright and airy and you love sewing almost as much as Izou does even if you’re pretty terrible at it. You help Izou pick out a dozen new bolts of linen and then he has you pick out a few yards of different fabrics for the new wardrobe he’s making you.

By the time you meet back up with Fossa and the Fifteenth Division, you’re swinging your and Izou’s clasped hands and chattering excitedly about the flowy skirt pattern you bought. You don’t normally wear skirts but you like dressing up every so often and the pattern is complicated enough to be interesting. And you are over the moon about having a project to work on that you’re actually allowed to do, you didn’t realize how starving you were for some kind of distraction.

Fossa politely admires your new fabrics before you head inside a pub where the rest of your brothers have taken over the entire back section of the restaurant. You sit in the middle of a bunch of your brothers you haven’t seen much of in months and eat hearty food that an effusive waitress brings over (and she coos over you because the residents of your dad’s territories adore you without rhyme or reason) and enjoy the normalcy of hanging out with your family.

There’s no tension, no too-close walls, no looming disappointment, no prying eyes and ears that follow you everywhere. It’s just you and your brothers.

After you finish eating and your brothers turn mealtime into a drinking contest, Fossa narrowly bests you 7-5 at darts before Izou smokes you both in twelve consecutive games. You accepted that you had no talent for sniping a long time ago so you take your losses with dignity. Fossa rubs cigar ash into Izou’s white kimono and then spends the rest of the evening dripping wet from the mug of ale Izou dumps over his head.

The sight of your gruff older brother sitting miserably on a stool that’s a little too small for him, soaking wet with beer dripping off the ends of his mustache makes you giggle. You can’t help it; he looks like a wet cat but way more miserable and too afraid to complain because Izou is rubbing at the stain with a dark gleam in his eyes and would be only too happy to dole out more and when he bites his cigar, it’s wet enough that it just flops around sadly in his mouth and the giggle turns into a full-blown laugh.

You laugh harder at the affronted look on his face, and the next thing you know you’re doubled over, clutching at your stomach as you laugh hysterically. In the back of your head, you notice that the restaurant has gone quiet, and your brothers are watching you with hopeful expressions and Izou stops dabbing his kimono to share a look with Fossa. But you don’t care, it’s too funny and it’s been too long since you had anything to laugh about.

When you make it back to the Moby Dick late that night, the sight makes you feel warm and sleepy. It’s the first time in months that your home doesn’t fill you with dread.

It’s only a few days later when the comms team gets a distress call from a nearby island in the Whitebeard’s territory. There was major damage after a tropical storm and they’re requesting help rebuilding.

Blamenco and the Sixth Division are ready to go within the hour, and the Ninth and Tenth Divisions volunteer to assist. Curiel taps you on the back as he and Blenheim pass by with huge crates balanced on their shoulders. It’s the last of the cargo to be loaded onto the awaiting ship.

“We could use an extra set of hands, Lassie,” Curiel offers, “Shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

It takes three times for you to recognize the pattern. For the last few months, your brothers have been stretched ridiculously thin, and without two commanders per mission, your only chance to leave the Moby was with your dad because Marco was busy on one-man flights to nearby territories or holed up in the infirmary or command room putting out fires.

But things have been different since your breakdown.

You put the pieces together when Kingdew insists on joining Haruta’s division to rendezvous with Moby 3 despite the fact that his broken arm is still in a sling and his bare shoulder is still mottled with deep purple bruises. When Kingdew casually suggests that you can be his extra hands, it clicks.

The Commanders are bending over backwards for you. Not just them. All of your brothers are pitching in— pulling extra shifts, volunteering for missions and taking on more work to free up their Commanders so they can double up.

You’ve been stuck on the Moby for so long that you didn’t realize how antsy you’ve been. But now that you can leave the ship again, you can finally breathe.

None of your brothers are willing to go against your dad’s orders. But they’re choosing you too.

One of the islands in your dad’s territory is famous for its annual festival. It’s been a few years since the last time you were here for one, but the sights and sounds and smells are even more vivid than you remember. It’s a massive festival, with an entire fairground and carnival rides, dozens of game booths, hundreds of stalls selling merchandise and wares from across the world, and vendors selling every type of food under the sun. Plus, there’s music and friendly locals and wide-open fields for large groups to set up camp.

The Moby docked earlier this morning and the entire crew disembarked, and with all of the commanders present, you’re allowed to explore with just a single brother keeping you company. Right now, you’re sitting on Ace’s shoulders, enjoying the vantage point as he wanders through the endless maze of food stalls.

In typical Ace fashion, he buys a little of everything that he passes, and you nibble on different snacks as he makes ridiculous quantities of food disappear into his stomach. That is, until one of the merchants as a stand selling fruit skewers coated in a hard candy shell waves cheerily and summons Ace’s attention.

“She looks hungry! Surely a big, strong pirate like yourself will take good care of your little sister, hmm?”

Ace takes the bait hook, line, and sinker. You lock eyes with the merchant, nodding at him in respect for his game. It only took one look and he’s already got Ace pegged.

The merchant winks at you.

“I’ll take thirty!” Ace announces.

“Ace!” you protest, throwing out your arms in exasperation.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Ace waves, a sheepish blush on his face. He turns back to the man in the stall, pausing briefly to lower you from his shoulders as he pulls a wad of Berries out of his shorts pocket, “Forty please!”

“Ace, that’s too many!”

Marco takes one look at the dozens of skewers and Ace’s too-proud expression and sighs.

“Did you spend all your money on that?” Marco asks in a long-suffering voice.

“Nope!” Ace announces proudly.

“He’s got a hundred and eighty-six Berries left,” you tattle.

“Alex!” Ace hisses.

Usually, you’re a big believer in snitches get stitches, but you told him it was too many and now he’s got about two real world dollars to his name. That is not enough to ride the Ferris Wheel with you. And you’re sure as hell not going by yourself—you still hate heights when you’re alone.

Marco’s eyes widen. Guess he wasn’t expecting you to acknowledge him. He brushes off his surprise quickly and just shakes his head at Ace in exasperation.

“What are we going to do with you?” he mutters.

“Hey!” Ace protests. You look down at the skewers in your hands and even if Ace could eat all this and still be starving, four is way too many for you. You’re hungry but you want real food, not just candied fruit.

“You can have one,” you tell Marco, holding out one of the skewers. The yellow cubes are pineapple, that’s his favorite anyways.

Marco hesitates but he reaches out and accepts the offering.

“Thank you, yoi.”

The intense emotion in his eyes is a little too much for you, so you shrug uncomfortably.

“Sure.”

“Wharaagdeslese?”

“Ace, yoi, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Ace swallows the entire lot and spits the skewers out like a magic trick. It’s equal parts disgusting, frightening and impressive.

“Where’s everyone else?” he repeats.

“Thatch and Haruta are trying to bankrupt all the game stalls, Jozu and some of the others are getting everything set up at the beach, and just about everyone else is drinking.”

“Oh.”

“There’s food too.”

“Oh! Where’d you say?” Ace demands excitedly. Then he blinks and looks down at you, “Wait, no. We were gonna take you on the Ferris Wheel!”

“With what money?” you shoot back with a raised eyebrow, “A ticket’s seven hundred Berries.”

“Is that all? Here, you can get two,” Marco says as he reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls out two thousand-Berry bills. It will forever crack you up that nefarious pirates like Marco the Phoenix carry their wallets with them. Seems like it sort of defeats the entire point of being a pirate, but what do you know?

Ace brightens, but you shake your head vigorously.

“Don’t help him! I told him he wouldn’t have enough and he didn’t listen.”

“Alex, come on! You were hungry! Even that fruit guy could see it!”

You roll your eyes, but you’re trying not to laugh because he’s serious and that’s too funny.

“He only said that so you’d buy something.”

“I would’ve bought it anyway!”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know that,” you point out. Then you shake your head, “It’s fine. We’ve got a bottomless stomach to go feed.”

On cue, said bottomless stomach rumbles. Ace looks at you sheepishly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s really fine.”

“I could take you,” Marco offers quietly. Ace freezes, very aware of the context behind the offer, and he does that magic trick where he disappears without going anywhere. It’s a skill he learned growing up in a jungle where he hunted every meal he ate, being still enough to become effectively invisible. “I know you don’t like going alone.”

Your chest squeezes tight enough to make your heart ache. It’s been two months since Marco took your sword and you still haven’t really forgiven him for that.

But unlike the fight with your dad all those months ago, Marco apologized. He gave your sword back and he apologized for punishing you unfairly and for hurting you. He’s respected your space ever since then. He hasn’t tried to push anything. And you’re well aware that most of the Commanders were only able to double up in order to take you along because Marco kept taking responsibility for their divisions along with his.

You’re still mad. It’s been four months and you’re still so angry at him and you’re angry at your dad and you’re so sick of being angry and scared. You’re sick of being mad at the people you love the most.

Your hand tightens around the remaining skewers in your hand.

“Do you want to?” you ask, just as quietly.

“I’d love to,” he smiles and your Observation Haki lights up with hopeful nervousness and something close to desperation. He wants your forgiveness so badly, he’s tried so hard to make it right, but he’ll wait as long as it takes for you to be ready. “Do you want to?”

Your stomach plummets through the floor. You can’t help it. The nightmares have been getting worse with every passing day and you can’t help but remember those dreams with Marco being the one to find Thatch’s body, blood staining his hands and arms and running his clothes as he cradles his closest brother’s corpse. The candied fruit sits like lead in your stomach.

Marco’s gentle smile gets a little strained, and you’re aware that his Haki is picking up on all the awful things you’re feeling even if he doesn’t know why you’re feeling them.

Those horrible things are never going to happen. You’re going to save Thatch. You’re going to save all of them. And you’re not going to do it alone.

“You won’t let me fall?” the whisper is hoarse and your hands are squeezing the skewers so tightly you can feel the indents they’re leaving behind in your palms. Something fierce flashes in Marco’s eyes when he looks at you so intensely that the entire world around you falls away.

“Never.” He swears.

You swallow. Then you hold out your hand. Marco takes your hand in his and you’re not ashamed to admit how comforting the familiar callouses and firm but gentle grip is.

“Lead the way,” Marco says. Ace tags along for a little while, just until he spots the back of Atmos’s head and then he disappears to go sniff out the food. You and Marco head toward the rides and even if you don’t have much to say, it feels so good to just wander the fair with him.

At the ticket booth, Marco waves you away when you try to pay and buys two tickets. You watch the crowd together as you wait in line, and as much fun as you had today, it’s nice to take a slower pace.

“I didn’t really want to go with Ace,” you admit as the attendant takes the ticket of the group in front of you. It’s a young couple; the guy is clearly nervous about the ride but trying to look tough to impress the girl. Marco’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Really?”

You shake your head.

“He gets distracted too fast. He doesn’t really care about heights, he just gets bored and starts thinking about food.”

“That does sound like him,” Marco chuckles.

“Next!” the attendant calls. Marco hands her the tickets and the two of you are ushered into your seats before the lap bar is secured in place. It’s not long before the wheel begins to spin and your car is raised up into the air as cheery music plays from the snail in the control booth.

You lean forward, hands gently resting on the lap bar as you take in the breathtaking view. It’s a beautiful sunset, and you’re spellbound by the pink and amber light rippling over the grassy fields and houses in the distance. Up high in the air, everything looks so small and perfect.

“For my birthday, will you take me flying?”

Marco looks at you in bemusement and he offers, “If you want to go flying, we can go right now. Or as soon as we get off.”

“Nah,” you shake your head, “It’ll be more fun on my birthday.”

It’s getting close. Soon you’ll be fourteen and then it won’t be long until you’ll have to deal with everything this world is about to throw at you. But that’s all the more reason to make this birthday special.

“Of course, yoi,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer, “We can do anything you want.”

You snuggle in next to him, enjoying the natural warmth from his Devil Fruit and the weight of his arm wrapped around you. As you stare out over the island and the ocean beyond that, you feel as safe as you’ve ever felt in your life. With Marco here with you, you’re invincible.

You’re sitting in one of the lower crow’s nests, leaning down and watching enviously as Vista supervises his division in kicking each other’s asses. It’s been almost four months since you were “grounded” and you miss Vista’s training, even if he never let you do half of this stuff. It’s official, you’re tracking down Mihawk at some point and forcing him to teach you. You’re pretty sure you’ll be able to survive a fight with him just long enough to show him you’ve got potential.

Something brushes against your Observation Haki and you can feel your dad watching you; he always feels sad these days. You don’t need your extra senses to know that he deeply regrets hurting you and that he just wants to fix things. But he hasn’t apologized. And you’re going to be angry until he does, no matter how many months there are left before the Devil Fruit appears.

You don’t duck away or pretend to fall or do anything shitty like that. You’re mad but you still love him.

“Hey Andy, the Fourth’s back!” your brother on lookout calls down to you, and you reach for your spyglass to scan the horizon. Sure enough, you can see the small ship approaching, the Whitebeard’s mark flying proudly in the distance.

It’s not the first time the Fourth Division has gone out this year. But this is the first time that the sight of the ship makes your gut clench and your Observation Haki shudder with foreboding. All of a sudden, you know.

The Devil Fruit is on that ship.

Shock punches all the air out of your lungs and you struggle to draw a breath, your hands tightening around your spyglass. It’s too soon! It’s not supposed to happen for another few months, you’re supposed to have more time!!!

All the anger you’ve been feeling for months slides away, leaving nothing behind but sick, cold dread.

You’re out of time.

You stick your spyglass back in its pocket and climb down the rigging, quietly making your way back down to the deck. Your feet hit the planks and you make a beeline for your dad’s chair. You haven’t let yourself avoid him, but you haven’t done much more than that. He and Marco (and the entire crew on deck, but who’s counting?) watch you silently as you approach without visibly reacting. It’s like they’re afraid acknowledging you will send you running the other way. You reach the foot of the massive chair and grab a handful of fabric with shaking hands, climbing up your dad’s leg the way you’ve done thousands of times before and then sitting yourself down with your back resting against his abdomen.

Your dad hesitates but when you don’t move, he brings one of his hands up to wrap around you, the tip of his finger settling into your open hand and you grab hold of him like a life preserver in the open ocean. You let your dad hold you for the first time in months, taking comfort in the familiar weight wrapped around you that you’ve missed like a hole in your chest. His relief is palpable and the surge of emotions buffeting against your Observation Haki is hesitance and careful optimism and hope that he hasn’t ruined things beyond repair.

“You haven’t told me a story in a while.”

Your voice sounds hoarse when you break the silence. For a second, you worry that you’re going to give everything away, but then you remember that there’s a million reasons why you’d be emotional right now and you just let it go.

“No, I haven’t,” your dad agrees. He clears his throat and you can feel Marco’s eyes burning a hole through you both, and then he launches into a story.

That’s one thing both of your dads (your real dad and your pirate dad) have in common; they’re both excellent storytellers. And even if the story he picks isn’t a new one, it’s been such a long time since you’ve heard it that you can’t remember most of it. You just get drawn in, soaking up the tale of adventure and unexpected surprises until you’re lost in your dad’s voice. You close your eyes fully, leaning back against him until you can feel the vibrations as he talks, your fingers tightening around the edge of his thumb.

You really love your dad. And you love your whole pirate family. You wish you could hold onto this moment forever but Thatch and the Devil Fruit are sailing closer with every passing minute and you know that after this, even if everything goes to plan, things are never going to be the same.

“Hey, Ali-gator! Want to see something cool?” Thatch asks the second he spots you on deck. You pad forward, tilting your head curiously and trying to pretend that you’re not panicking because if you fuck this up he’s going to die tonight.

“What is it?”

Thatch grins and waggles his eyebrows.

“Ever seen a Devil Fruit before?”

You haven’t, actually. You’ve got the entire Devil Fruit Encyclopedia memorized cover to cover, and you’ve been keeping notes on each fruit’s current user to the best of your ability, but you haven’t actually seen a real Devil Fruit in all the years you’ve been in this world.

So you shake your head and Thatch unveils his surprise with a dramatic flourish.

“Tada! What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

There it is. The Dark Dark Fruit. It’s unassuming. It’s swirly and purple and it’s doing something strange to your Haki, like it’s trying not to let you notice it. If you didn’t already know exactly what that fruit does, you wouldn’t necessarily know it was anything sinister.

Honestly, even if you’d just read the encyclopedia you wouldn’t know the full extent. Allows the user to control darkness. Technically true, but not even close to the whole story.

“Whoa,” you breathe out while your heart thuds away inside your chest. Without thinking, you reach out for it but Thatch moves it out of the way immediately.

“Sorry, kiddo. These things are dangerous,” Thatch apologizes. Your cheeks flush and some of your brothers on deck chuckle.

“What are you gonna do with it?”

Thatch shrugs.

“Don’t know yet. I’m not sure which one it is, I’d hate to eat a bug fruit and wind up turning into a cockroach man!” Thatch jokes. Your brothers laugh but you can’t take your eyes off the fruit. “I’ll probably just hold onto it for now.”

“Oh!” you exclaim like you just had an idea and haven’t been planning this moment for over a decade, “Wait right there! Don’t move!”

“Okay!” Thatch laughs and you take off for your room. He’s still on deck when you return, surrounded by curious brothers who are all wondering about what kind of fruit it is. Ace has an arm slung around his shoulders while he prods at Thatch’s cheek, trying to convince him to take a bite. Your heart speeds up but luckily Thatch isn’t taking him seriously.

“Look!” you exclaim, holding up your surprise.

“You have a treasure too?” Thatch asks curiously and you shake your head as you force a beaming smile on your face and try to convince yourself that you really are excited. You have to believe it if they’re going to believe you.

“No, it’s a treasure chest, you can put your treasure inside! Look, it’s got a key and everything so you can keep it safe!”

The little chest is just big enough to fit a large fruit and the decorations on the outer wood are simple but elegant.

Marco smiles when he sees it and your stomach lurches; it makes sense that he’d recognize it. He was the one to buy it for you nearly a decade ago when it was just the two of you exploring a flea market on one of the larger islands in Shanks’ territory.

“That’s a great idea, yoi,” Marco agrees. You’re not sure if he really thinks it’s a good idea or if he’s just trying to be extra supportive as a way of making amends after months of enforcing your dad’s training ban.

With Marco’s urging, Thatch doesn’t have a choice. He accepts the box from you and places the fruit inside, using the little key to lock it with a click. Then he reaches out and ruffles your hair.

“Great idea, Ali, thanks a bunch! I’ll take extra good care of it.”

Your chest seizes and you can’t breathe.

“You better,” you order.

The deepest levels of the Moby Dick are always eerily quiet. With most of the crew at dinner or on duty, even the Haki signatures down here are muted. It’s freaking you out and your heart is already trying to jump out of your chest so you just grip the paper in your hands tighter and speed up. Every second that Thatch is out of your sight is a second too long but this has to be done and it’s the safest possible time while he’s with everyone at dinner. Teach won’t act in front of witnesses.

You pass through the rows of towering green tarps and your mouth goes dry at the sight of the covered ships. This had better fucking work.

The lights are on in the Quartermaster’s office, and just past that, you can hear half of the Thirteenth Division chatting as they finish re-securing the ship that just brought the Fourth back. The rest of them are carrying cargo back to its proper storage and spooling out new lengths of rope.

All of them wave and call out greetings when they see you. You force yourself to smile back and then head into the office.

There isn’t so much a Quartermaster as there is a team of people responsible for keeping track of the ungodly amount of stuff on a ship holding hundreds of pirates. They’re also responsible for prepping smaller boats when Divisions or other groups get sent out on missions. Which brings you to the paper in your hand.

“Andry! What are you doing down here?” One of your brothers greets cheerfully, patting you on the back. You shrug, holding out the paper.

“Marco told me to give this to you. He said it’s important.”

He takes the paper and adjusts his glasses to get a better look. It doesn’t take him long to read it; Marco’s handwriting is just as pristine as every other order sheet that’s been handed out. You would know. You’ve only been practicing forging his handwriting since you first picked up a pen.

Your brother nods and smiles at you.

“Thanks for bringing it down, tell Commander Marco we’ll have it stocked and ready to sail within the hour.”

Your heart skips a beat. A whole hour. Fuck, Thatch better not do anything stupid before then.

But your brother is still looking at you so you shrug like you couldn’t care less.

“Sure.”

While most of your brothers bunk in shared dorms, triples, and the occasional double, one of the perks of being around for long enough that they get their own rooms.

Teach’s private room is down the hall and around the corner from the Second Division’s common space, in a dark and windowless part of the ship. You’ve been there too many times; he’s got a first aid kit stashed away for the rare occasions that he left a mark you can’t hide.

He doesn’t bother locking the door. Nobody would ever invade his privacy, and without a Commander, room inspections fell to him for two decades. You do not like the fact that you know that.

Teach is at dinner and you push the door open silently. The room is dark and you turn on the lights; he’ll realize someone was in his room as soon as he sees them. As horrible as he is, his room is almost cozy. The bed—suspended from four ropes to keep it level during turbulent seas— is neatly made because he doesn’t actually use it. There’s an armchair in the corner, a chest for personal effects, a well-worn desk and chair, and the rest of the room is bookshelves. It’s like being inside a library, if the library belonged to a maniac who’s spent the last thirty years pretending that he doesn’t dream of ruling the seas as King.

You reach into your pocket and pull out the note. The instructions for where to meet you are written clear as day. Your hand shakes as you slip it under the unused pillow, leaving a corner peeking out from underneath.

Surveying the room, your heart only beats faster. What if he doesn’t see it?

You pull the covers back on the bed, not enough that anyone else will notice, but it will be instantly obvious to a man who never sleeps. That has to be enough.

With your heart in your throat, you leave the room.

Nobody questions why you’re late to dinner. Your eyes immediately lock onto Teach. He’s sitting with the Second Division, devouring one plate of food after another, and you force your eyes to look away from him. You grab a plate and load it up, trying to enjoy the massive spread even though your stomach is full of rocks. A few of the Commanders are missing even though they’re on the ship, but luckily Thatch is sitting between Haruta and Kingdew. Marco and Ace are on either side of your dad—no sign of Jozu, which sucks except that he’s scarily good at figuring out when you’re worried about something and that’s the last thing you need right now.

Your dad gives you a smile and even without your Haki, it would be impossible to miss the nerves. It feels so wrong for a man like Whitebeard to be nervous but the months-long cold spell from his teenaged daughter is more than enough to make him tread with caution. You feel like a fucking monster; your dad is just trying to protect you. In normal circumstances, he’d be right. You’re still a child and your family are the strongest pirate crew in the world. Their protection should be more than enough. But they don’t know what you know. They don’t know that they aren’t enough for what’s coming.

Even if Teach wasn’t a problem, the Marines are still preparing for all-out war. And if that happens, the Whitebeards lose.

“I saved you a seat,” your dad smiles as if you haven’t sat in the same spot next to him for over a decade. You smile back at him like you haven’t done in months—a real smile, not the cold imitation you’ve been stuck on— and settle into your seat next to him before leaning in when he puts a hand on your back. Your brothers—all of them, not just the Commanders sitting at the table with you— let out a collective sigh of relief because they’re nosy gossips who can’t even pretend to be minding their own business. The tension between you and your dad that’s kept the ship on eggshells for months finally breaks.

Conversation is lively and the cooks keep coming back to refill everyone’s plate—especially Ace’s—and you know better than to believe it when they claim they broke out your favorite drink (a hard-to-find fruit juice imported from the West Blue that is nothing like any flavor from the real world) to celebrate the Fourth Division’s return. You eat and drink and it’s impossible not to enjoy the infectious cheer. Excuse or not, Thatch and his new Devil Fruit are the center of attention and he regales everyone with the stories from his latest adventure. Dinner turns into a celebration and stretches on—one hour, then two, and by the third hour you’re nearly asleep in your dad’s hand, blinking every so often to make sure you don’t lose sight of the small chest on the table in front of the Thatch. Or Teach, who’s switched from eating to drinking his body weight in beer as the divisions get rowdier.

“It’s late,” your dad says after you let out the tenth face-splitting yawn in as many minutes. “Why don’t I take you to your room?”

You’re too tired to protest that you’re too old to be tucked in and instead you just nod clumsily. Your dad picks you up and you tug at his sleeve before he can stand.

“Can Thatch come?” you mutter, already most of the way to dreamland, “…missed him.”

Thatch somehow manages to hear you over the boisterous crowd and lights up like the sun.

“Of course!”

Thatch and your dad chat animatedly the whole way back to your room while your eyes flutter open and shut.

“What do you think, Pops?” Thatch asks for the thirtieth time. Your dad just hums in amusement.

“I think the choice is yours, my son,” your dad answers again.

“I mean, I like swimming. It’d be weird to be an anchor after all this time. And it would suck if it turned out to be something lame!”

“I’m certain we can figure out which fruit you found.”

Thatch holds up the chest and eyes it consideringly.

“But part of the fun is not knowing! Ace didn’t even know he found a Devil Fruit in the first place!”

“Very true,” your dad agrees, “I didn’t know which fruit I’d found either.”

“And you got a good one!”

Thatch lets out a huff.

“But what if it’s lame?”

“Cockroach,” you mutter, still just about completely asleep.

“Exactly! I don’t want to be a cockroach man!”

Your dad laughs as he opens the door to your room. He pulls back the covers and sets you down on your bed before tucking the sheets up around you. He bends down to brush your hair back and kisses you on the forehead even though you’re getting too old to be tucked in for bed like this.

Your heart is lodged in your throat and you’re so nauseous it takes everything you have not to throw up or start crying or both. Your roll over onto your side and your hand snakes up into your pillowcase. When your fingertips brush the object inside, you take the deepest, quietest, shakiest breath you can manage.

“Good night, Ali-gator! Sweet dreams,” Thatch says smiles, squeezing you on the shoulder, “I’ll make you your favorite pancakes tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

Your hand snaps out to grab his sleeve. You pray that he can’t hear how loudly your heart is pounding.

“Read me a story?”

“Sure! What story do you want?” Thatch asks. He places the chest on the nearest empty surface—your bedside table—and turns to your bookshelf.

“Dad can pick,” you mumble and your dad’s face lights up too. He joins Thatch at the bookshelf and your hand closes around the hard edges of the thing inside your pillowcase. You only have one shot, and by the time they’ve picked a book, you’re about to fall asleep and the chest is untouched, exactly where Thatch left it.

Thatch sits on your bed while your dad settles into the only chair that’s big enough for him and he starts reading.

“Once upon a time…”

You close your eyes and soak up the sound of his voice like you’re never going to hear it again.

The lights go dark and the door clicks shut. You count to two hundred.

Then you open your eyes and sit up. You pull the object out of your pillowcase and stare down at it in the dim glow of your nightlight.

You were nervous when Marco recognized it but ten years turned out to be long enough for him to forget. There was a reason you begged him to buy you the tiny treasure chest.

It was a matched set.

The treasure chest in your hands is an exact match for the one Thatch has. With a turn of the matching key, you unlock it and flip the lid open.

The Dark Dark Fruit sits unassumingly inside the velvet interior. The frog plushie Shanks gave you all those years ago doesn’t weigh nearly as much, but that way there won’t be any doubt about who stole it. You close the lid and lock it tight, slipping the chest and key into the fully-packed bag stashed at the back of your closet before grabbing your sword and tying the sheath around your waist.

It won’t take them long to figure out what you did. It can’t—Teach has to know that Thatch doesn’t have the fruit anymore as soon as possible. He was still at dinner when you left, but he’ll find the note soon.

Observation Haki tells you that the path is clear and you ease the door open. Your footsteps are silent as you creep through empty hallways and make your way to the deck.

It’s been enough time that the Thirteenth Division long-since finished; the small ship bobs up and down alongside the Moby, tethered by a trio of ropes and ready for departure. There’s lookouts on the deck but most of your brothers are still at dinner or hanging out belowdecks; it’s too cold tonight for anyone to be outside unless they have to be.

You creep along the railings, silently making your way to the nearest tethering rope, and you make it without anyone spotting you—thank you Haki, you’d have been toast if it wasn’t for your sixth sense screaming at you right before you stepped into someone’s sightline.

Nobody notices as you climb along the rope, dragging yourself hand over hand with your ankles crossed tightly over the rope, all the way to the smaller boat. Your let out a tiny breath as your feet touch the deck. The ship is fully loaded and ready to depart.

You reach into your bag and draw out a deceptively small shell. Then you grab a bit of rope and sneak over to the steering wheel, binding it tightly so your trajectory is aimed in something close to the right direction. With three swipes of your sword, you sever the ropes anchoring your ship to the Moby. The cut ends fall into the water and hopefully the splashes are quiet enough that no one on deck will notice.

From there, you shimmy up the main mast, unfurl the sails, and hold on for dear life as you unleash the winds from your jet dial and your insane voyage officially begins.

Chapter Text

A face stares back at you in the mirror. With your hair cut in a sharply-angled bob, makeup pilfered from your older sisters changing the shape of your face through every trick in the book (framing your temples, punctuating your cheekbones, altering the curve of your nose, sharpening your jawline, and flattening out the roundness of your cheeks) and the wardrobe of unmarked clothing that Izou made for you after you confided in him about how insecure you felt having to dress like a little kid (and it was not a coincidence that you were wearing your skirt embroidered with rubber ducks, you unironically love that skirt but you also know how to get a point across), you look at least five years older. You still look young, but young for an adult—not even remotely like you’re still awaiting puberty.

One thing is for sure; the face in the mirror isn’t the one you’re used to seeing.

The only thing that could possibly give you away is the bracelet around your wrist, with the glittering ruby dangling from braided twine. You can’t take it off. You tried, because it’s a dead giveaway, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

It’s the only link you have to your dad. It’s your promise to do what needs to be done and get home safe. It’s a symbol of the greatest treasure you’ll ever find.

The bracelet stays on.

You check your log pose again and you’re drawing steadily closer to the island. Once you’re there, you’ll sell the ship and use the money to buy passage to the Red Port. Hopefully you’ll have enough; you have to sell the ship as fast as possible, so whoever buys it is probably going to try and rob you blind. You don’t have a choice though. Speed is everything.

If the Whitebeards catch you, you’re screwed and more importantly, they’re screwed. If Teach catches up to you, well, let’s just say that would be bad. If the Marines recognize you as the Emperor’s Daughter? Incredibly bad, one-way trip to Marineford in handcuffs kind of bad. You don’t technically have a criminal bounty, so you probably won’t get sent to Impel Down, but it’s still not better.

But you’re too far in to turn around now.

You sneak a peek at the tiny piece of paper in your pocket and it’s still just a piece of paper. You exhale, hands shaking in relief, and you stow the paper again.

Thatch is fine. Without the Devil Fruit, there’s no reason for Teach to hurt him.

You look down at your bag, which is almost bursting with the Berry that you’ve been saving for your entire life, and you hope that it’s enough.

The trip across the Red Line is harrowing. It’s actually pretty uneventful, but it is terrifying to pass through government checkpoints when you can only prove your identity in a monetary fashion.

(You bribe the officials.)

It’s your only option; you can’t exactly forge your own authorization papers. It takes a significant chunk of your money, but it buys you official passage over the Red Line and a name, age and island of residence in the government’s logbook that no one will recognize if they manage to get a copy of the records. And Haruta will get a copy. He’s scary like that.  

It takes a full day to cross, most of which is spent in Navy-staffed waiting rooms, all of which is spent sweating bullets over whether or not your disguise will hold up with all the Wanted Posters plastered everywhere (including yours). When you’re finally in Paradise, you let out a shuddering breath and stare up at the monstrously tall continent that separates you from your family.

From the Red Port, you buy passage to another island where you’re able to barter your New World log pose, an Eternal Pose for a random island in the Whitebeard’s territory, and most of your remaining Berry for a ship stocked with enough supplies to feed a small crew. It’s overkill, but you did not come this far just to die of hunger or thirst.

There’s just one problem. You made it off the Moby by a combination of luck, miraculously calm weather, an entire jet dial’s worth of wind, and the fact that you were only a few hours from the nearest port, which you knew because you’ve been religious in studying the sea charts, maps, and travel routes to islands near the Moby’s path. You’re not capable of sailing a ship meant for a small crew all by yourself for any real length of time. But you did think of that.

That brings you to this situation.

The massive Sea King towers over you, looking down with drool dripping from rows of sharp teeth. You look back at it, looking straight into his hungry eyes, completely calm and unintimidated.

“I said, I need help. Will you help me?”

Predictably, the sea monster attacks. You draw your sword and slash down faster than it could ever hope to move, clobbering it between the eyes with the pommel of your sword. He goes down with a whimper and a mighty splash.

Before he can swim away, you throw your rope like a lasso, hard enough that it crosses the distance easily and loops around his jaw. You yank the rope tight and launch yourself into the air. The sea king whips his head back and you hold on to the rope for dear life as you swing around his head and grab onto the back of his neck, the rope now looped around him twice.

He bucks wildly and your Observation Haki shouts a warning. You twist your wrists into the rope and pull it taut before taking the biggest, deepest breath that you can. The sea king dives, taking you with him.

You yank on the rope with all your might, fighting back as he thrashes and twists in the deep water and tries to throw you off. You hold firm, lungs burning more with every passing second, and you focus all your willpower on showing him that you’re not going anywhere.

His thrashing slows, ever so slightly, and you seize the moment to pull on the rope hard enough to force his head upwards, where instincts kick in and he swims in that direction. You gasp as your head breaks the surface, pulling oxygen back into your aching lungs, and then you’re pulled under again.

The cycle repeats a few times. Every time he surfaces again, you pull the rope tighter. It’s a battle of willpower and the moment when you feel the shift, when the sea serpent realizes that he isn’t going to beat you or shake you loose, you feel triumph like you’ve never felt in your life.

The rope in your hands is pulled too tightly to go slack, but the sea king rises to the surface and falls still. You wait, but he just twists his head around and fixes you with big, beady, watery eyes. You beam at him, smiling from ear to ear.

“Good boy!”

You loosen the rope and untwist your hands from it to pat him on the neck. He makes a soft braying sound, surprisingly close to the noise a donkey makes, and lowers his head to bump you with his snout.

“We’re friends now, okay?” you tell him, rubbing him on the nose and finding a spot to pet him that makes his tail beat up and down in the water, churning up even more waves. He lets out a puff of air that makes your hair and your shirt flap in the wind. “I’m going to tie some ropes to my ship so you can pull me. Do you want me to make you a harness or would you rather hold the ropes in your mouth?”

The sea king stares at you for a minute and you just stare back because you aren’t completely sure how much he can understand since you don’t have the Voice of All Things, but you know better than to think he’s a mindless animal.

Eventually, the sea king opens his mouth, tossing his head back to yank at the rope still looped inside his mouth and around his jaw. Not a fan of ropes in his mouth, then.

“Okay, no problem! Bend down so I can get it out for you.”

You expect that the instant you release him from the ropes, he’ll dive under the surface and book it as fast as he can. But to your surprise, he doesn’t go anywhere, even after you free his jaw and unwrap the rope from around his neck.

It takes a while to rig up a harness that can pull the ship along without breaking anything or getting in your sea king friend’s way. And you are friends now, you can tell that he’s stopped looking at you as a meal or a threat. You don’t know if it’s because you won the battle of wills or if it’s because you were willing to let him go completely if he didn’t want to stay, but he’s clearly decided that he wants to see where you’re going with all this.

You name him Earl of Sandwich, because he’s a noble sea king and also you think the name is funny.

“Okay, Earl. Here’s the plan. Do you know a place called Twin Capes?”

The Earl of Sandwich just stares at you. You inhale through your nose and try to figure out how to communicate with a sea monster.

“Hmm. It’s right next to the Red Line, there’s a lighthouse and an old guy whose head looks like a flower and a giant Island Whale with lots of scars on his head.”

Earl tilts his head curiously.

“You know, an Island Whale?” you hold out your arms as big as they can go, “They’re not sea kings, they’re even bigger! And this one makes a lot of crying noises like ‘wahhhhhhhh’!”

You feel extremely silly doing your best island whale impression, but Earl perks up and you get thrown off your feet as your boat is suddenly propelled at breakneck speeds.

“Go Earl!” you cheer, holding on to the mast for balance, “Next stop, Twin Capes!”

Why Twin Capes? Well, you thought about it a lot and there’s one really simple answer.

You’re in One Piece.

You have to meet Luffy.

And since you’re trying to mess with canon as little as possible, you need to do it before he meets up with Ace in Alabasta. So, since leaving the Grand Line is way too risky and you aren’t sure when he’ll get anywhere, you have four options.

One: Freeze your ass off on Drum Island and hope that you can avoid drawing attention from Wapol.

Two: Hang out with Broggy and Dorry on Little Garden and pray that you don’t contract any deadly prehistoric illnesses.

Three: Stay on Whiskey Peak and just pretend you’re a normal traveler who doesn’t notice that it’s an island full of bounty hunters.

And four, the only real option: Go all the way back to Twin Capes and wait with Crocus.

The trip should take many months. A really, really strong and dedicated crew can manage it a few. You’ve got a ship carrying enough water, dried goods and nonperishable supplies that you don’t need to stop even once, and the ship is carrying a single passenger instead of a crew of fifteen so it’s thousands of pounds lighter than it should be. Not to mention, you’ve got a turbo boosted engine in the shape of a sea king who seems hell-bent on breaking the world record for fastest time across the Grand Line and against all odds, knows exactly where it is you’re trying to go. (You’ve been following on your maps and log poses and growing more shocked that the Earl of Sandwich is heading in a near straight-line towards the far entrance to the Grand Line).

TLDR: the trip does not take many months.

The journey is incredibly uneventful. It would probably be more exciting if you needed to follow a log pose and stop at different islands and take things like weather and stormy seas into account, but Earl barely slows down in the choppy waves of a massive storm, scares away just about everything that pops up, and you easily dispatch the single pirate crew that tries boarding your ship while the Earl of Sandwich gets his beauty rest.

It’s kind of weird. Okay, that’s an understatement, sailing by yourself is beyond strange. For the last decade and a half, you’ve been surrounded by your family—your dad and his unmissable Haki presence, dozens of sisters and literally hundreds of brothers that can’t stand having you out of sight. In all the time you’ve been in this dream here, the most privacy you’ve had was when your family was sleeping.

You have literally not been alone since the moment you arrived here.

It’s weird to think that this was your life. In grad school, you worked in a windowless office pretty much by yourself for five years, and some days the only other person you saw was the office custodian. Solitude is something you’ve always hated but it’s familiar now. A reminder that you’re not Edward Alexandria anymore.

You’re you.

And you’ve got a job to do.

That last thought helps you keep the guilt away. It wasn’t an easy decision to take the fruit and run but when it came down to it, it was the only real option.

You couldn’t kill Teach.

First of all, you’re nowhere near strong enough to, even if you could take him by surprise. But you could have told your dad or any of your brothers or even Shanks, confessed that Teach was the one training you, that he’s been searching for Thatch’s fruit for his entire life and that once he has it, he’ll betray everyone and lie, cheat, steal, and murder to fulfil his dreams. Even if your dad couldn’t bring himself to kill his son, someone else could have.

Maybe you should have done that. It would be the safe choice in every way.

And he would deserve it.

If you’d only just woken up here, in the body of a teenage girl with a thousand pirates calling you their sister, just in time to catch the betrayal in action, you wouldn’t have hesitated.

The Blackbeard from Ace’s flashback deserves to die for his actions.

But he’s not the cartoonishly evil villain from your favorite show, the one ultimately responsible for the death that drives the main character to grow stronger.

Teach is… he’s not your brother. But he’s a real flesh and blood person. For better or for worse (definitely worse), he’s the only person who’s treated you like your own person, who’s let you make your own decisions and respected your choices without question. He is not a good person. You don’t like him. In fact, you hate him. You hate him so much it makes your blood boil, you hate him because part of you is intensely grateful to him for keeping you sane while your dad doubled down without ever telling you why, you hate him because you love your pirate family with all your heart and soul and he doesn’t care about them enough to make any kind of difference, you hate him because there’s no denying that you’ve become something important to him.

You hate him because you have lost so many people you can’t live without and the only thing you’ve ever wanted is to stop losing people you care about.

The worst part of all is that you do hate him.

You hate him so much and you hate him even more because like it or not, you care about him.

It’s absolutely fucked and you ruthlessly squash down the part of you that wishes things were different, that wishes he could care about your family as much as they care about him, that wishes his dream could include them. It can’t.

What it all boils down to is the fact that you can’t kill someone you love. Even if you hate him. Even if you’re only indirectly responsible. Even if he wouldn’t hesitate to kill every last person in his way, including you.

But as long as Teach is alive, there’s no stopping him from getting his hands on the Devil Fruit eventually. The best you can do is lead him far, far away from the people you love.

Plus…

Your dad was never going to change his mind.

As much as you love him, as much as you love your whole family, you are sick of being treated like a child. You might have the body (and the unstable hormones) of a thirteen-year-old, but all told, you have been alive for forty-one years and you can’t stand it anymore.

Being smothered with love and zealously protected and forbidden from doing the one thing you want most is utterly suffocating.

It’s not just training.

It’s autonomy. It’s independence. It’s your ability to control what you do with your life. Because this is your… this is your life. Not your pirate family’s. Not your dad’s. Even with their best intentions, you were slowly but surely losing your mind on that ship.

This isn’t forever. When this is all done and you’ve done everything you needed to, you’ll go home. You’ll face whatever consequences are in store for you, starting with stealing your brother’s Devil Fruit and running away, and ending with giving your dad the worst heart attack of his life. And you will face them happily if it means your family is alive to be mad at you.

The most interesting thing that happens is that the News Coos somehow track you down. Although it’s not that surprising, you have been making a point to feed them special snacks since you were five years old and you’ve got a rotation of News Coos who compete to bring you papers and letters from your siblings scattered across different ships. Your birthday alone makes Alfred Hitchcock’s film “the Birds” look like a low budget production; you’re pretty sure that your birthday has actually interrupted the global newspaper delivery system.

Point is, you’re a few weeks into your journey when a very familiar sea bird lands on the railing of your ship. At first, you’re excited because you’ve missed a couple editions of the paper and now it’s more important than ever that you’re staying informed.

And he does have a copy of the paper.

But he also has a letter.

In Marco’s very distinctive handwriting.

“Shit,” you mutter. The News Coo (and you don’t name them, you get the sense they’d find that demeaning) tilts his head at you.

You fish around in your pocket for a piece of the fish jerky he likes best.

“I need a favor. Can you take this back where it came from? Both of them. I need you to pretend you couldn’t find me.”

The Coo looks at you and his beak snaps out to eat the jerky. You pull a few more pieces out.

“And there’s one other thing. Can you take a message back to Morgans for me?”

The bird tilts his head at you. He looks unimpressed. You hold out another piece of jerky and he snaps it up out of your hand. It takes three more for him to decide to help you, and in a long-suffering manner, he turns to the side so you can access his news bag. Presumably to put your message inside.

You wince.

“Oh, uh, I don’t have it ready.”

The look the Coo gives you is absolutely scathing.

“I didn’t know you were coming! And I needed to ask first,” you remind him, trying to soothe the ruffled feathers. He nips at you in warning; not because he minds, he’s just trying to maintain professional appearances but after the first bite he presses his back into your hand to give you better access to the feathers.

When he’s suitably mollified, you try again.

“It’ll only take me a few minutes to write it, can you wait for it?”

The News Coo caws sharply. You hold out another piece of jerky, but he turns his beak up and flaps his wings out.

“Right, you have a busy schedule,” you agree, although internally you’re not happy about the fact that you’re losing a battle of wills to a bird. Unfortunately, he’s a bird with connections that you really need and he knows it. “If I promise to have it ready the next time you come, will you take my message to Morgans for me?”

He eyes you for a long beat. Then his neck snaps out and he gobbles up the jerky; that’s as good as a signed agreement.

“Thank you! You have no idea how much I appreciate it!”

The News Coo gives you one last look as if to express utter befuddlement how you’ve made it this far without him in the first place. Then, with a majestic caw, he flies off.

Taking the paper and the letter from Marco with him, as promised.

You head straight for the cabin to write the message; you don’t exactly have a hard deadline for when you need to speak with him, so you’re okay to wait. But you can’t risk not having the letter ready when the Coo comes back.

Crocus gives you a once over and if you had to put a name to the expression on his face, it would be, “I call bullshit.”

“You’re a journalist or something?” he asks after you finish introducing yourself. You shrug.

“Not exactly. But I am trying to learn about what it’s like for new crews entering the Grand Line. Since all the Blues feed into this cape, I figured it’s a perfect place to wait for a good crew.”

“And how exactly did you get here?”

You smile. Earl and your ship are long gone; you explained your plan to him a lot of times, and you’re not at all sure that he understood you, but you’re pretty sure he’s off to stretch his legs and then follow behind you until you’re ready to leave. And if he’s not, it’ll work itself out. You’ll see him again.

“A friend gave me a ride.”

“And just left you here?” Crocus grouches. You smile wider.

“He’s temperamental.”

“Right.” Crocus raises an eyebrow, “What’d you say your name was, again?”

You tell him your name. The scowl on his face deepens.

“Is that your real name?”

“Yeah. It is,” you say honestly. You don’t mind having a new name to go by during your extended One Piece fever dream, but it’ll never replace your real one. And you’re not Whitebeard’s daughter right now; you’re just you. You hope that when you figure out how to wake up someday, after you’ve finished saving your family from certain doom, you’ll be right back where you left off. In your real twenty-eight-year-old body. There’s only so much older you can make yourself look, but between the clothes and hairstyle and the fact that you don’t have to act like a teenager, you feel like yourself again.

Your real self.

“What kind of crew are you looking for?”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” you answer and that’s also true because there’s no way you won’t be able to recognize the Straw Hats on sight. But in the interest of making conversation, you continue, “But probably a fun one. One that sees the Grand Line as a big adventure, not just a sea to be conquered. A crew ready to take on the world, to go the distance, to… bring the storm, you know?”

“Hmmmmmm.” Crocus grumbles. He is a crochety old man if you’ve ever met one. “This isn’t a daycare. I’m too old to babysit. Stay if you want, but don’t expect me to protect you. The Grand Line is a dangerous place.”

“Fine with me. I can take of myself. Although…”

“What?” Crocus snaps.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about first aid, would you?”

“Why? You injured?”

“No. Nothing like that. It’s just…” you’ve spent the last thirteen years avoiding anything to do with medicine or the infirmary like the literal plague because like HELL were you letting your dad force you to become a nurse. And as much as you stand by that decision, you would actually like to have a basic ability to treat injuries. “I’ve realized it’s time to learn it.”

The time with Crocus is actually quite pleasant. You’d kind of forgotten what it’s like to be treated as an adult and even though he’s growing to like you, he was entirely serious about expecting you to take care of yourself. Which really works for you.

He teaches you basic first aid, but when you keep asking more and more detailed questions, he grumbles and walks away only to return with a first-year medical textbook. It’s an old book and you’re fascinated to see that it was written by one Dr. Trafalgar Norton. You dive into it, breaking your study sessions only to read the newspaper and help Crocus split the cooking, cleaning, and caring for Laboon.

Plenty of ships go by. You’re really excited to recognize a couple of them—okay, you really only recognize Trafalgar Law in the Polar Tang, but it’s still very exciting. You stay with Laboon when Crocus goes out to greet them. At this point, the fewer people who see you the better. (Although you can’t help waving at them from a distance.)

Crocus only asks you about it once.

“You don’t seem to be having much luck finding what you’re looking for,” he says while in the middle of scraping gargantuan barnacles off Laboon’s back. You laugh and take your turn with the massive scrubber.

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

Crocus stops. His flower crown hat thing bobbles in the gentle breeze.

“You’ve got a specific crew in mind, don’t you?”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Busted.

“Yeah, I do. I’m waiting to meet him.”

The old man pretends not to care about the answer, but after a few minutes of working together in silence, he finally wipes his hands.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Who is it?”

“He’s a pirate in a straw hat.”

Crocus’s head snaps up and he stares at you.

“How old did you say you were, again?”

“Crocus, my friend, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you answer with a laugh, putting your tools down before patting Laboon’s side and heading for the lighthouse to wash up.

He calls your name and you turn around curiously.

“Look, if there’s one thing I know… captains in straw hats bring nothing but trouble.”

To anyone else, it would sound like a warning. But you can see the emotions in his eyes, hear the love and old grief in his voice, and you smile as warmly as the sun.

“I know. I can’t wait!”

You’re reading in a lounge chair outside the lighthouse, enjoying the warm and sunny day when two infuriatingly familiar Baroque Works agents heave themselves out of the water, muttering spitefully about log poses and deadlines. The sight pisses you off because they’ve been back at least three times now and you got faked out so badly the first time because you thought that you were about to meet the Straw Hats and you’re still mad about it. Also the fact that they’re trying to eat Laboon!!!!! That’s too far! 

You reach down a grab a pebble before coating it in Haki and lobbing it at Mr. 9. You were aiming for his shoulder but you miss and hit him in the head. He crumbles like he’s made of paper.

Whoops.

Oh well, he’s probably fine.

You toss a second pebble up in the air and call out, “I’ve got another, why don’t you stick around?”

Vivi—Miss Wednesday for now — gasps when she sees you (she remembers you from the last three times) and raises her hands in surrender. You nod your head to the side and she takes the hint, dragging her unconscious partner over to the side and sitting her ass down next to him.

“Hey, Crocus!” you call, still tossing the pebble in the air, “Those weirdos are back! Is Laboon okay?”

The ship that sails into view, just ahead of Laboon’s towering body, takes your breath away. It’s a little caravel, with a red and white striped sail, an orchard on the upper deck, and the jolly roger you’ve waited your entire life to see, one that fills your heart with hope and excitement and joy. Of course, something is missing. You can’t help but pout at the sight of splintered wood where the Going Merry’s figurehead is supposed to be. It only lasts a second before the awe catches up to you in full force.

They’re here!

They’re actually here!!!!

“Laboon is fine,” Crocus grouses, standing on his little floating island with its single palm tree, “Got a bunch of unruly pirates to thank for that.”

Your eyes are laser focused on the ship and the five figures riding atop it. Your face splits into a grin.

“Unruly pirates, huh?”

Crocus grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Bad as I’ve ever seen.”

Your delighted grin only widens. With a whistle, you catch Miss Wedensday’s attention before winding back and hurling a Haki-coated pebble at the horizon line as hard as you can. The tiny black dot breaks the sound barrier with a boom and when it finally hits the ocean somewhere far out into the distance, the only way you can tell is by the enormous geyser of water that explodes up. It’s one of your most impressive party tricks (she doesn’t need to know that you can’t aim for shit). The undercover bounty hunter’s eyes nearly bug out of her head, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in shock. You wink and reach down to scoop up a handful of pebbles that you make a big show of stuffing in your pocket.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you warn her. Miss Wednesday tries to answer but her face is pale and she can only nod stiffly. Poor Vivi—but you can’t risk her sneaking off before she has a chance to meet the Straw Hats.

You slide partway down the rock and head out to the edge of the cape as Crocus’ little island sails in, followed closely by the Going Merry. Crocus is speaking solemnly to the little crew, and four faces are staring at him.

Suddenly, there he is. You see his smile first; the massive D-shaped grin that stretches across his entire face. There’s the scar under his left eye, the one he got from stabbing himself in the face to show Shanks how tough he was. And of course, the straw hat. The hat the belonged to the first Joy Boy and ended up with Roger, before becoming Shanks’ most prized possession and is now the symbol of Luffy’s promise to make it to the top of the world.

Before you can figure out what to say, Luffy punches Laboon right in the eye. You should have been expecting that, but it’s still so out of pocket that you just end up staring along with everyone else. Didn’t he use the mast in the show? Well, guess this is better for Merry. Maybe it’s because Laboon has been keeping his end of your deal and not smashing his head against the Red Line anymore.

You’ve seen some pretty visibly lopsided fights in your life, most notably that time Haruta squared off against a giant in a one-on-one because quote “what’s a little guy like you gonna do to someone like me?” endquote. Knock him all the way on his ass, that’s what. Frankly? Incredible. Easily top six Haruta moments.

It goes without saying that you know better than to bet against Luffy.

That doesn’t make it any less breathtaking to watch him go head-to-head with a whale the size of a literal island and give every bit as good as he gets. Laboon howls and slams Luffy into the Red Line with his face. The entire continent shakes as Luffy crashes into the rock, but there’s barely even a pause before Luffy springs himself free and punches out his rubbery fist to slam down on the top of Laboon’s head.

“LUFFY, STOP!” Usopp yells, waving his arms frantically.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Nami shouts.

But they don’t see what you see. You haven’t seen Laboon so energetic the entire time you’ve been here, and Crocus doesn’t show much expression to begin with (beyond grumpiness) but there’s something a little… more in the way he’s watching his longtime charge. 

The fight goes on until Luffy straightens without warning, putting one hand on his straw hat before grinning up at Laboon like the mad lad he is.

“I’m stronger than I look, aren’t I?” He asks. All the Straw Hats are shocked as Luffy makes a new promise with the whale, but you? Your heart is soaring and your pulse is racing and you haven’t even met him yet but you can already see the future right in front of you.

This is Luffy.

This is the man who’ll be the Pirate King.

And you can’t wait even a second longer.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do to top that, so I figured I’d just say hi,” you announce loudly, swinging your legs from the rocky ledge you’re perched on. Everyone turns around to stare up at you, and they look surprised even though they all heard you yelling to Crocus a few minutes ago. You scan across the various Strawhats, taking in their real-person appearances. Nami’s hair isn’t just ginger, it’s bright orange like a vibrant carrot. Sanji’s suit is so perfectly pressed that it defies physics for someone whose primary fighting style is leg-based. Usopp has his fucking melanin back and even though his nose really is that long, people in this world come in so many different shapes and sizes that the only thing you’re surprised by is the fact that you don’t even register it as strange. Zoro looks about the same as you expected—although it does take you a second to realize why he has two eyes (he hasn’t lost one yet, obviously).

But you really only have eyes for Luffy. You stare down at him, dimly aware that you’re beaming at him like a fucking maniac. You can’t help it; you’ve waited your entire life for this moment.

It’s Luffy. He’s really here, right in front of you, and he’s not just a character anymore. This is a living, breathing person with thoughts (actually, from everything Ace has told you, that’s debatable) and dreams big enough to shake the entire world. He’s Ace’s little brother. The only person in the world that your favorite big brother loves more than you. And because you’re staring, you also see the tiny notch on Luffy’s right ear, where Ace was the tiniest bit too slow to pull him out of the jaws of a hungry crocodile.

As his eyes meet yours and the two of you stare at each other, you wiggle your fingers at him in greeting. There are so many clever, witty, mysterious, or even mind-blowing things you could say, up to and including announcing that you’re Whitebeard’s daughter, Edward Alexandria, and you’re here to fuck shit up. You open your mouth and say…

Chapter Text

You open your mouth and say…

“Hi!”

Nailed it.

“Who are you?” Luffy demands crudely, sticking a finger up his nose.

You tell him your name.

“I don’t like nicknames for my real name,” you add as you swing your legs over the open ocean, because even though it’s just going to in one ear and out the other when it comes to Luffy, you really mean it. You’re totally fine with any and all variations on Alexandria because it’s not even your real name in the first place.

But your name?

That’s yours. It’s the only real piece of you that you have in this crazy dream that you’re too deep in to even dream about waking up from now.

Luffy stares at you for a few seconds with an unreadable expression. It feels like he’s looking straight into your soul and you stare back with an open smile; maybe you should be worried because you’ve got a bounty on your head and your dad’s entire fleet is probably hot on your heels, but you aren’t. It feels good to be seen as you are even if you have no idea what’s going on behind that surprisingly piercing stare. Then the D-shaped grin splits across his face again and he laughs.

“Nice to meet you!”

And then he says your name. Your real name. It’s not a nickname or flat-out wrong.

You stare at him in shock.

“Where are the bastards?” Crocus grouses, interrupting your surprise as he looks around grouchily for the two Baroque Works agents you claimed to have neutralized. “Or are you just freeloading again?”

You shake your head to clear out the last of your shock.

“You didn’t call it freeloading when I got that leechworm off Laboon’s back,” you call back, as if you haven’t been leveraging that for favors all week. In your defense, that thing was gross.

“Just get them out here.”

You shrug and bring your fingers up to your mouth to try and whistle. It doesn’t work, that’s one thing you’ve never been able to learn in the entire time you’ve been here and it sucks because you used to be able to, and so eventually you give up and shout, “HEY WEDNESDAY! GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE! AND BRING THE CLOWN!”

Miss Wednesday helps a groggy Mr. 9 limp over to the cliffside where the Going Merry has finally docked and the Straw Hats are quickly climbing ashore.

“Don’t think you’ve won just yet!” Miss Wednesday sneers haughtily, staring down her nose at you as best as she can. Mr. 9 tries his best to complete their villainy monologue but his head is clearly not back in the game yet.

“We’ll…” he starts off strong before immediately trailing off.

“…get the whale…” Miss Wednesday whispers to him, and he nods dazedly.

“…get that whale yet!”

There’s a comical thunk as Zoro whaps them on the head with two of his sword hilts at the same time. They crumble to the ground and you can see the dizzy lines circling over their heads. You can’t help but wince in sympathy—poor Vivi. She’s tough, though, she’ll be okay.

“So you live here with Crocus?” Zoro asks from where he’s standing over the semi-conscious Baroque-works agents. You shrug.

“For now. I’ve got some business to take care of in the Grand Line and I’ve been staying here while I look for a good crew to tag along with.”

“You should come with us!” Luffy says.

“Sounds good!” you answer immediately.

“Just like that?!” Nami, Sanji, and Usopp shout in unison. Crocus just sighs and shakes his head, but you can see the amusement under the grouchiness. He knows you found your crew the instant he saw that familiar hat. You adorn your best innocently confused expression.

“You’re the captain, right?”

“Sure am!” Luffy beams, putting a hand on his hat. You smile again and nod like that settles everything. The other Straw Hats facepalm.

You go inside to gather your belongings, taking the time to make sure that all your things are still accounted for. You make extra sure to keep the small treasure chest tucked safely at the bottom of your bag after checking no fewer than six times that its contents are still untouched and there are no little critters in the bottom to ruin all of your plans.

When you come out, Luffy is already on top of Laboon, painting a grotesque version of his Jolly Roger on the whale’s head. Sanji is actively cooking up a huge fish that smells next-level amazing (And move over, Thatch, there’s a new best chef in town. Also, sorry Thatch, because he probably just felt a disturbance in the Force hearing you think that). You notice before anyone else when Luffy starts stuffing food into his mouth and use your carefully honed skills from years of stealing off Ace’s plate to snag a serving for yourself.

A single bite makes your eyes fly wide open.

It's unbelievable.

It’s buttery and flaky and light at the same time that it’s richly flavored with salty and savory spices that all mix together in a perfect balance where none of them overpower any of the others.

You’ve never had fish this good in your life.

Holy shit, forget about meeting Luffy, this whole thing was worth it to get to eat Sanji’s cooking!

You finish your plate just as Sanji realizes his glutton of a captain ate an entire crew’s worth of food and accidentally breaks Nami’s new log pose out of fury. Crocus is about to offer his when you interrupt, pulling out the log pose you held on to specifically for this moment.

“Don’t worry about it, you can have my extra one. I always carry a backup,” you smile as you hold it out to Nami. She rushes at you, grabbing you up in a hug.

“Forget everything I said before!” she cries, holding onto you for dear life, “Please come sail with us forever!”

You laugh and pat her on the back.

“Yes, please! Stay with us forever!” Sanji begs, wobbling back and forth with literal hearts in his eyes. You fight back a laugh because you have thousands of older brothers who would kill him for flirting with you. It’s so absurd. Sanji would be horrified to find out he’s flirting with a thirteen-year-old. But the funniest part is you’re double his age if you add your real age to the time you’ve spent here.

“That’s a nice bracelet you’ve got,” Nami says, Berry signs in her eyes, and her fingers are already reaching for it. Your other hand snaps up to grab her wrist and you can’t control the way your pulse skyrockets.

“Don’t touch it!” you snarl, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, “Don’t ever touch it!”

Nami freezes. The greed vanishes and she stares at you in dismay. The rest of the crew has gone quiet and they’re all watching you. Even Zoro has an eye peeled open, and he’s paying close attention no matter how relaxed his posture is. The two bounty hunters are frozen near the back of the deck where they’re trying to plot quietly.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t— I won’t!” Nami promises.

You realize you still have a death grip on her wrist and you let go. Instead of putting as much distance between you two as she can, Nami just rubs her wrist and looks at you. You’re doing the same thing; your hand is clutching the braided twine while your fingers twist the charm around.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes immediately. You blink because that’s not at all what you expected given how she acts in the anime. “I got excited when I saw the ruby, I should’ve realized it was important to you.”

“It is.”

“It’s your treasure?”

You both jump at the sudden voice, and Luffy is standing there with one hand on his hat, the brim casting a shadow over his face. The sight of it makes your breath catch. It’s the first hint of the intensity you know is lying under the surface.

You swallow and shake your head.

“No, it’s just a symbol.”

“Of what?” Usopp asks timidly because it turns out Luffy isn’t the only one listening in.

You hold up your wrist so everyone can see. The ruby glitters in the daylight as it sways back and forth.

“I made these matching bracelets for me and my dad,” you tell them, “Our family is the only treasure he’s ever wanted. They’re my treasure too.”

Luffy lets out a huff and nods stiffly, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.

“Nami,” he declares with all the weight of a captain, “No stealing her bracelet!”

Nami turns on him with rage in her eyes and punches him in the head with all the outrage and fire you remember from the show.

“YOU DON’T NEED TO TELL ME THAT, IDIOT! I DON’T STEAL FROM MY FRIENDS!”

Once she’s done rage-pummeling Luffy, she flips her hair back scoffs.

“Besides, I’m a cat burglar, I’m not heartless.”

Whiskey Peak might just be the highlight of your entire life here.

Not the fake welcome or the drugged food and liquor, but the part that happens after when the den of bounty hunters drops their disguises and all try to kill you at once.

You find yourself back-to-back with Zoro, taking on wave after wave of Paradise-level bounty hunters and absolutely cleaning house. You don’t even need to draw your sword.

“Sixty-one!” you cheer, sending number sixty-one flying with a well-placed punch to the gullet. Zoro growls, slashing out with his swords and flicking them to clear the blood off his blades.

“Forty-nine,” he answers.

“Ha!” you crow, taking pleasure in being an unapologetically bad sport, “I win!”

Zoro’s eyes land on you appraisingly and you smile wider because he’s not easily impressed.

“You’re stronger than you look.”

“Tactful,” you roll your eyes. Then you stretch out your wrists and back and bend backwards to look straight up at the sky, “God, that was fun! I never get to fight like that!”

Zoro’s eyes are glued to the blade at your hip.

“You know how to use that sword?” he asks curiously. He’s clearly noticed that the blade is too big for you, even if you’ve gotten accustomed to its size. (You figured out a long time ago that it was part of your dad’s plan to stall your training by giving you a sword that was way too big for you. Too bad for him that you were determined to train with it anyways.) You nod, tapping the scabbard fondly. Your Haki picks up a pulse of amusement; it seems like your sword doesn’t mind the fact that you beat these losers without her. She loves to fight but not when her opponents are so far beneath her.

“I don’t need it for these guys, but I’m pretty good. I still want to get better though.”

“Me too.”

“Ever heard of Dracule Mihawk?” you ask, deliberately not looking at the massive scar on his chest. Zoro’s answer is a stiff “yes.”

“I want to get him to train me someday.”

“I want to kill him someday.”

“Oh,” you nod like that’s information you don’t already know, “Well, maybe let me get my thing in first, okay?”

Zoro looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. You can’t even imagine the sight the two of you must make and for a second you wish that you weren’t disguised to look older because you just know that Zoro is going to flip about a potential sword rival being a teenage girl. At least you don’t look like Kuina.

“You are a strange woman.”

“Aww, you’re a charmer,” you laugh, stepping forward to pat him on the cheek, “Come on, I think there’s some bigger fish over that way.”

Scratch that. The most fun part is pretending to be surprised when Miss Wednesday reveals herself to be Princess Vivi of Alabasta.

“Ohhhh my gosh,” you say in a singsong voice, drawing out each syllable as you press your palms against your cheeks, “This is so surprising. I’m just stunned right now?”

All the Straw Hats and Vivi and her incredible giant duck stare at you in disbelief.

“You knew?!” They all shout. Except Luffy, he’s busy picking his nose.

“What? No. How could I possibly, okay yeah I knew, it was pretty obvious. She’s got the same blue hair and a member of the Supersonic Duck Squad, I mean, I can do the math.”

Vivi sighs wearily. But Luffy throws back his head and laughs, slapping you on the back a whole bunch of times.

“You’re funny!” he cackles, and then he calls you by your name again before announcing, “You should join my crew!”

Your breath catches in your throat and you can’t help but stare at him.

When you first got here, there was only one thing you wanted. To figure out a way to save the Whitebeards. You still want that more than anything, but somewhere along the way, you starting wanting other things too. Your dad’s respect, most of all.

And you’ve accepted that you’re never going to get it. The things that you’ve wanted for so long, to be a full member of the crew, to be treated as an equal by all your brothers and sisters, to be a part of something that means so much to you… you’re never going to get them.

Your dad will never let you join his crew.

You’re never going to be a Whitebeard.

You’re devastated.

And here’s Luffy, freely offering you everything you’ve ever wanted, no questions asked.

Seriously, no questions. The only real thing he knows about you is your name.

You swallow the lump in your throat and try to breathe because your chest feels too tight but also really warm?

“I… I have some things I have to do. But…” you wet your lips and summon the courage to look Luffy in the eyes, “Ask me again the next time we meet.”

“Okay!” Luffy nods, accepting your answer immediately without pushing.

“You can all calm down. I’ve not been given any orders to follow here. I’ve no reason to fight you,” Miss All Sunday says from her perch on the Merry’s railing. You’re the only one to see the arm sprout out of Luffy’s back, reaching for his hat.

That’s enough for you to move. You hand snaps out, snatching hold of her wrist before she can touch Luffy’s treasure.

“Don’t touch that,” you order, looking Robin dead in her hollow eyes. Maybe you’ll call her a friend one day, but for now, she’s crossing a line. Her mouth quirks up in an amused smile and you let go before she decides to make you her next target. You’re not sure how to fight against multiple arms sprouting out of your body and this isn’t really the time where you want to find out.

“Well now,” Miss All Sunday laughs humorlessly, “I was hoping to meet you. You see, Baroque Works has dug up quite a bit of information on your crew, Monkey D Luffy, and of course we already know about the daring little princess. But you, you seemed to just appear without a trace on Whiskey Peak.”

You hold your ground and glare as Miss All Sunday looks you up and down. Anything she learns about you now is going straight back to Crocodile.

“You’re quite strong. I was impressed. Truly. So tell me,” she leans forward and puts her head in her chin, “Who are you? A new member of the crew?”

“No. I’m not a pirate. I’m just traveling with them.”

Miss All Sunday’s eyes widen just the tiniest bit.

“How unfortunate. Baroque Works has no interest in travelers without bounties. If only you had picked any other ship to sail with, you wouldn’t be a target at all. Now, I’m afraid you’ll be hunted like all the rest.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” you shoot back. Usopp gulps as he hides behind the mast again. Miss All Sunday narrows her eyes at you and you fight the urge to run from the attention. You won’t flinch.

“You look familiar,” she muses, “I suppose I just assumed you didn’t, but you wouldn’t happen to have a bounty on your head, would you?”

Your heartbeat spikes and you curl your hands into fists.

“Do you?” you snap.  Miss All Sunday sits up and presses a hand to her chest.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she gasps in a hollow imitation of outrage, “Why would I have a bounty on my own head?”

“And I’m a traveler. Why would I?”

The stare down lasts for several beats, after which Robin nods her cowboy hat at you and says, “Touche.”

“You want to fight?” Luffy asks suddenly, and you’re sure it has nothing to do with the stars in his eyes from Broggy’s story. By which you mean it obviously does. You grin, already on your feet.

“Yeah!”

“Right now?” Vivi asks, sounding more than a little alarmed, but you’re not missing this! Broggy laughs heartily, throwing his head back and pounding the dirt in delight.

“What a warrior’s spirt! Both of you!”

“Hey Vivi, keep score for us?” Luffy calls, stretching himself in ridiculous ways as you join him in a flat patch of dirt.

“Okay,” Vivi agrees slowly, “How many rounds?”

“A hundred!”

“Luffy, that’s too many!” Vivi protests.

Luffy pouts, his face twisting in disappointment.

“Fifty, then!”

“How about five?” Vivi suggests. You shrug. Personally, you were good with a hundred.

“I guess.”

“Five it is!” Luffy announces, punching his fist against his palm, “I’m gonna kick your butt!”

“Not if I kick yours first!” you taunt back. You’re definitely going to get your ass handed to you. Luffy has three years on your teenage body and he is a monster, even by Grand Line standards.

Vivi calls the start and you both fly at each other. The flurry of back and forth is hard to follow, Luffy’s rubber fists fly faster than physics should allow, but you keep up pretty well. Until you pull back and bury your fist in his stomach and he goes flying backwards and crashes through three trees.

Oops. You didn’t mean to use Haki.

Luffy’s head pops up from between fallen trees and his eyes are wide.

“Ehh? You hit like Gramps!” he exclaims.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, I won’t do it again!”

“Why not? You’re strong! Do it again!”

“Why do you keep saying that?!” Nami shouts as Luffy stares vacantly at the giant spinning wax trap where she, Vivi and Zoro are in the process of being turned into statues. “We’re about to be turned into wax statues! Do you understand that?! We’re going to die!”

“Yeah, but for some reason I can’t get motivated to help.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, CAN’T GET MOTIVATED?!” The three of them scream together. Mr. 3 laughs and Miss Goldenweek sips on her tea.

“That’s enough,” you announce loudly, stepping forward to draw everyone’s attention to you. The Straw Hats light up, shouting your name and calling for you to help them. Miss Goldenweek and Mr. 3 scowl at you.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Miss Goldenweek demands mid-pour.

“No matter, Miss Goldenweek! There’s only one of her and four of us, she’ll make the perfect finishing touch to my masterpiece soon enough!” Mr. 3 calls.

“Four of you?” Usopp gasps as Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine appear out of nowhere; your Haki picked up on them hiding behind some trees, so you don’t even blink. “Where the hell did you two come from?!”

“Even if there were fifty of you, it wouldn’t be enough,” you say as you take another step forward. You’re nowhere near as strong as the Commanders, but even the strongest Baroque Works agents aren’t anywhere near your level.

“Be careful!” Vivi shouts, “Something’s wrong with Luffy!”

“No there isn’t!” Luffy retorts. You take another step forward.

“That’s far enough,” Miss Valentine giggles, tapping her umbrella against her shoulder as she and her partner advance on you.

“I don’t know who you are, but I do know that you have no idea who you’re dealing with,” Mr. 5 adds dramatically. You ignore all of them and look at Luffy.

“Listen up, Luffy,” you announce, finally drawing your sword. She gleams in the bright sunlight of Little Garden’s jungle, eager for action after being dormant for so long, “I’m not going to be stronger than you for that much longer, so I’ve got some things to teach you while I still can.”

“No way!” Luffy shouts back at you, still standing on top of Miss Goldenweek’s color trap. Betrayal Black.  You’ve seen this technique a few times before in the New World; one of the Allied Captains is a master of the Sentiment Color Wheel and he can do some pretty mind-blowing things with it. Miss Goldenweek isn’t anywhere near your brother’s skill level but that doesn’t mean you’re going to let your guard down. “I don’t want you to teach me anything!”

“Lesson one,” you say like you didn’t hear them, “If you step out of that circle, I’ll never forgive you.”

“WHO CARES ABOUT THAT?!” Luffy bellows, and sure enough he takes a big step backwards. His eyes widen as soon as he’s off the color trap and you’re already moving before Miss Goldenweek’s brush has a chance to paint his shirt. Your sword sings as it slashes through the air, cleaving the paintbrush in two.

“What just happened?” Luffy asks as he shakes his head in confusion. You stare at Miss Goldenweek and you wonder how nobody has noticed yet that the two of you are pretty much the same size.

“Lesson two,” you continue, your eyes locked on the Baroque Works agents as your sword stays aimed unwaveringly at her chest, “Not all powers come from Devil Fruits. You should learn what your enemy can do before you fight them.”

Miss Goldenweek’s eyes are wide and she panics as you step forward, pushing her back at sword point.

“Wait, please!” she begs, terror shining in her eyes that well up with tears. You take another step forward and the begging picks up speed, “Please don’t hurt me! I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt your friends, they were going to hurt me if I didn’t and I didn’t have a choice! Please!”

You pull back your sword and hesitate. Miss Goldenweek’s eyes gleam and she lunges at you with paint-covered fingers, falling for your feint. As her color trap reaches for your shirt, you put on a burst of momentum and spin, sweeping out your Haki-covered heel to slam into her chest.

Marianne goes flying and crashes into a tree with enough force to shake the ground. She collapses to the ground in a heap and groans; that’s good enough for you. She’s still alive and if she can get back up from that, she deserves another whack at you.

“Miss Goldenweek!” Mr. 3 exclaims.

“Whoa!” Usopp gasps from where he and Karoo are hiding behind a row of trees. Luffy doesn’t say anything but you can feel him watching every move you make.

You flick your sword to clear off a clump of dirt, turning your head to address the dazed Miss Goldenweek, “Lesson three. Never challenge someone to the thing they’re best at unless you know exactly who you’re dealing with.”

You smirk at her, your heart pounding with the adrenaline rush.

“If I fell for the helpless little girl routine, I’d never be able to face my brothers ever again.”

“How’s this for a helpless little girl?!” Miss Valentine shrieks, and you don’t even look up as she hurtles down from above at terminal velocity.

“Lesson four. Observation,” you say as you look Luffy straight in the eyes.

Miss Valentine hits the ground with an explosive force and the enormous dust cloud she leaves in her wake up makes it impossible to see. The Straw Hats call out in alarm.

“What happened?!” Nami cries.

“Did she crush her?!” Vivi gasps.

“No!” Usopp shouts. “She can’t have!”

Miss Valentine giggles cruelly, flipping her head back to let her earrings dangle in the wind.

“Serves her right,” she scoffs. Mr. Five’s eyes widen.

“Miss Valentine, behind you!” he shouts when he sees you standing unharmed behind his unsuspecting partner, and there are twin explosions as he launches explosive boogers at you. You step to the side to dodge the first one and you just barely tilt your head to let the second one go sailing past you. Miss Valentine doesn’t even have time to gasp before you haul her up by the front of her dress and throw her as hard as you can into Mr. Five. The impact isn’t pretty. But they’re both groaning softly and you see a leg twitching like a crushed bug so you’re confident they’ll be able to sleep it off. You’re not trying to kill them, after all.

“Whoa,” Luffy breathes, stars in his eyes.

“Your instincts know what’s coming before you do. Always trust them.”

“That’s far enough!” Mr. 3 bellows at you, pointing a furious finger. “I can forgive what you’ve done to those imbeciles but I won’t allow you to lay a finger on my masterpiece!”

You cock your head at him. Your sword taps along the ground.

“That ugly thing?” you scoff, “I mean, I know that art is subjective, but even you have to admit that’s a stretch. And really, what’s with all-white? Minimalism is so played out. I thought artistic types were supposed to be creative.”

His eye twitches angrily. You continue.

“Honestly, if this is the best you can do, I’m not surprised your career as an artist was such a flop.”

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Mr. 3 screeches, a vein bulging in his neck. The smile that tugs at your face is vicious; at least you’re not losing your touch.

“Alright, Zoro, you better listen ‘cause this is a lesson for you too!”

“Sounds good!” Zoro calls, entirely too casually. You can’t help but laugh at that as you pull your sword back. The move you pulled on Miss Goldenweek was all Thatch, but Vista’s training is better for this next bit. With a deep breath, you coat the entire blade in pitch-black Haki. Your sword sings with anticipation, the two of you in perfect synch.

“That wax might be as hard as steel, but here’s lesson five. Armament. You can do anything if you have the willpower.”

“What are you—don’t you dare!” Mr. 3 shouts.

“Petals of a thousand gardens, flying flower slash!” you shout, bringing your Haki-coated cutlass down with Vista’s signature move, and the slash of energy that flies out cleaves the wax monstrosity in two. The shockwave follows a few seconds later, blowing the top half with the spinning candles backwards where it crashes to the ground with a thunderous bang.

Zoro’s jaw drops; he couldn’t even make a dent in the wax.

“How did you do that?!” Vivi gasps.

“Who cares how?! We’re saved!” Nami collapses in relief as far as the wax encasing her will allow, which isn’t very far.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT!” Mr. 3 howls. You lean out of the way of the wax spike he shoots at you.

“I only have one more lesson, and it needs two people. So Usopp, don’t miss your cue.”

Usopp gulps, pointing at himself with one shaking finger. Oh boy, he’s literally shaking in his boots. You nod encouragingly.

“Lesson six. Even if it’s from a Devil Fruit, wax is still wax. And what do we use wax for?”

Usopp’s eyes land on the columns of smoke rising off the extinguished candles and the tiny flame burning atop Mr. 3’s hair. His eyes widen in realization.

“We burn it!”

Chapter Text

Nami coughs up blood again and you blink hard to clear the tears from your eyes as you dab her mouth clean with a damp cloth.

You forgot.

You fucking forgot that she was going to get bitten by some prehistoric nightmare insect and she’s fucking dying and you remember that she was seriously ill but this seems so much worse than you remember—she wasn’t coughing up blood and throwing up every ten minutes on screen!!!—and you’re the only person on board with any medical training and literally everything you know comes from your weeks-long crash course from Crocus and the single textbook he gave you.

If Nami dies, it’s your fault. You’re doing everything you can for her and Sanji has managed to work a miracle by infusing broth with enough vitamins and electrolytes that she hasn’t died from dehydration yet but it’s getting harder for her to eat with every day that passes.

Drum Island is still so far away and at this point… you’re not sure if she’s going to last that long.

You just feel so completely helpless. If your sisters were here, they’d know exactly what to do. If you were on the Moby, Nami would already be better. But they aren’t and you’re not and Nami is slipping further and further away with every passing minute.

It’s hell.

“We’re going to find a doctor,” Luffy promises, placing his hand on her shoulder, “You hear me, Nami?”

You’d be shocked if she could hear anything, but you need to hear that just as much as she does. Luffy keeps his promises. If you can count on anything, you can count on that.

Luffy leaves after a little while to go help Usopp and Zoro on deck, leaving you, Vivi and Sanji to try and keep Nami’s temperature down. Sanji has your textbook open on his lap and reads anything he thinks might be remotely helpful while you and Vivi dip washcloths in cold water.

The ship rocks suddenly, and it’s only your quick reflexes that keep the bucket of cold water from dumping all over Nami’s bed.

“What the hell was that?!” Sanji demands. He jumps to his feet, closing the book and somehow putting it gently to the side while moving to lift Nami’s bed clear off the ground to keep it steady as the ship rocks again.

The rocking stops and the three of you look at each other.

“Is it over?” Vivi asks quietly.

You don’t hear anything, but when you take a deep breath to calm down, you’re able to stretch out your Observation past the Going Merry and you can feel dozens of new presences. You’re already on your feet when the cackling laughter echoes through the ship.

“Vivi, stay with Nami,” you say as you hurry for the door. Sanji is hot on your heels.

“Hey, what’s going on?!” Sanji demands. He stops dead when he takes in the scene, and you don’t blame him because the sight of Wapol the ugly-ass shithead of an ex-king eating a knife while dozens of his men stand on the Merry’s deck with guns pointed at your friends is maybe not the most fun sight to see, but you’re on a mission. You point your finger at him hard enough to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey ugly!” you shout. Wapol does such a big double take that it’s basically a triple take.

“Are you talking to me, you insolent little brat?!”

“Yeah, you! Do you have a snail on your ship?!”

Wapol bristles, and so do all of his men because how dare you insult their precious king?!

“Of course I do, what kind of uncivilized—”

“Okay, thanks!” you shout, relief flooding through you before you take off.

“Hey, what the—”

“Where are you going?!”

“Stop her!”

“Hey, you can’t go there!”

“Get back here!”

You ignore the shouts from Wapol’s men and the Straw Hats as you sprint across the Merry’s deck and launch yourself into the air, landing easily on the deck of Wapol’s ship. You tear through the ship, punching and shoving anyone that tries to stop you from searching through every single room you can find. It doesn’t take that long because you’ve seen enough pirate ships to know where the important stuff is kept, and in the least tastefully decorated captain’s suite you’ve ever seen—Jesus Wapol, get a girlfriend already—you find the ship’s transponder snail. He’s got a metal jaw and a purple shell and it’s an awful look, but you’re desperate and that makes him the most beautiful snail you’ve ever seen. You screech to a stop and your feet literally burn scorch marks into the deck.

“Hi,” you tell the snail, “I’m…”

You trail off before you can tell the snail a name. No, that’s probably not a good idea. So instead you smile at the surprised creature and say, “I’m trying to help my friend and I really need your help to do that. If I promise to feed you all the lettuce you could ever want, is it okay if I take you with me?”

You hold your breath as the snail deliberates with himself, because he’s a living creature and you might be desperate but you can’t stomach the idea of kidnapping a sentient being without its permission and so you just wait. The snail eyes you cautiously, but then its eye stalks swivel around to take in the room’s um… tasteful decorations (which include more female-presenting nipples than you saw in all your days of communal showers with your teammates on the track and field team) one more time and before your eyes, the metal jaw falls away with a clang and the shell fades from the same vibrant purple as Wapol’s hair to something closer to lavender.

You beam and chant, “thank you thank you thank you!” before bending down to pick the snail up, transponder set and all, and tuck him close to your chest.

It’s pretty uneventful getting back to the Merry, just more one-handed punching and shoving. You land on deck just as Luffy sends Wapol flying with a Gum Gum Bazooka, and then he turns to look and you and just kind of goes, “Oh good, you’re back.”

“What is that?” Vivi asks quietly as you pet your new friend’s shell while he sets in on the veritable feast that Sanji prepared for him.

“It’s a transponder snail,” you answer. Vivi laughs quietly.

“I know that, I’m just wondering why you needed one so badly you took it from him?”

“Well, he’s a jerk so I figured he probably deserved it,” you smile. But just for a second, then the weight of the world sets back in. You look at Nami and your heart sinks. She doesn’t look any worse than she did this afternoon—that’s the only reason you haven’t picked up the transponder yet—but you’re still a long way from Drum. If that changes, you won’t have a choice. When you glance back at Vivi, she’s watching you with the same expression you’re wearing.

“She might not make it to the next island,” you say.

“She will. I know she will!” Vivi swears with the fervor she’ll use to stop a war and bring the rain back to the dessert.

“Vivi,” you say quietly. Vivi stops. Her hands are shaking and the mask slips, just for a second. The fear in her eyes is terrifying in itself.

“I don’t know what to do,” Vivi confesses in a hoarse whisper. Her hand finds yours and you squeeze, holding each other tightly because you both know that Nami is barely clinging on by a thread. You swallow. You haven’t known her long but she’s your friend and you’re not going to lose her.

“I know someone that can help,” you tell Vivi quietly, your hand shaking where it’s clinging to hers. Marco would fly for days on end to get to you. There’s no question that he’d make it in time to save her. “But if I call…”

A spike of terror skewers you through the chest.

“It could ruin everything,” you bite out. If it’s the only choice, if there’s no other way to save Nami, you’ll do it. You won’t hesitate. But after Marco saves her, that’s it. He’ll take you back to the Moby kicking and screaming if he has to. With the Devil Fruit back on the Moby, you’re back at square one, or worse, if you try to hide it with the Straw Hats or dump it overboard, you’re just giving Teach more targets.

You breathe out, trying to fight the nausea, when Vivi suddenly throws her arms around you and your shoulder grows suspiciously wet.

“Thank you!” Vivi sobs as she squeezes you tightly, “You have no idea what this means to me. I don’t know what you’re searching for, but it means everything to me that you’re willing to risk it to help us.”

“You’re my friends,” you answer numbly.

The sight of Drum Island coming into view is the single greatest birthday present you ever could have asked for. Honestly, it doesn’t even occur to you that it’s your birthday until you catch yourself staring at every gull that flies overhead and it takes you a little while to realize why you’re surprised they’re not News Coos.

For a second, you stop and stare out over the railing of the Going Merry.

You’re fourteen now. And you’re very far from home, with a dying friend in critical condition and a stolen Devil Fruit lying in a chest at the bottom of your bag.

Marco was supposed to take you flying today.

That’s the part that hurts the most; you really weren’t expecting the fruit to show up so soon. You thought you’d have more time with them.

For the last few days, Nami’s illness has consumed your every thought. Keeping her alive long enough to get to a real doctor was the only thing that mattered. But now that the Merry is sailing steadily towards the coast and Nami is stable enough to make it through the journey, you can breathe enough for your thoughts to shift.

What’s your family doing right now? Some of them are probably sailing towards you. There’s a good chance Teach is with them. That is not what you want to think about right now. Your dad… is probably having a pretty rough day. Which sucks. In fact, your whole family is probably having an awful time today.

Guilt seizes your chest and your fingers fish around in your pocket until they close around a little scrap of paper. You pull out the piece from Thatch’s vivre card and stare at it hungrily, desperately soaking in the sight of the pristine white paper that promises your brother is alive and unharmed. Laying it flat in your palm, you watch as it crawls towards Drum Island at a sluggish pace.

As the Merry sails closer and closer, you let yourself pretend for just a second that you’re sailing home.

You’ll be back someday. When this is all over and they’re safe, you’ll go home. Everything is going to be okay.

It has to be.

Luffy wakes Nami up to tell her that they have to go up the mountain. It’s hard to watch, but you know there’s no way to contact Dr. Kureha and there’s no way to know where she is right now. Maybe she and Chopper are just one town over. But if they’re not, Nami doesn’t have time to explore the whole island looking for the doctor.

So up the mountain it is.

“I’m coming,” you announce as you climb to your feet. Sanji puts his hand out to stop you.

“No,” he says as he lights his cigarette, “I’ll go. We’ll all feel better knowing that someone is here to watch out for Vivi.”

“Hey!”

Sanji shrugs.

“Yeah, fine, and Usopp too.”

You expect to feel something—pain, fear, worry, stuff like that— as you watch Luffy and Sanji take off, Nami tied carefully to her captain’s back. But you don’t. And it has nothing to do with the fact that they make it up in canon.

Luffy promised to get Nami up the mountain.

He’s going to keep his promise.

“Come back inside,” Dalton offers.

“I’d rather stay out here,” Usopp says.

“Me too,” Vivi agrees.

You shrug.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m cold,” you say, heading for the door. Usopp and Vivi turn on you, looking scandalized.

“Aren’t you worried?!” Vivi demands.

“Of course not,” you answer honestly, crossing your arms over your chest, “Didn’t you hear Luffy? He promised to get Nami to that doctor so she can save her.”

It won’t be an easy trip. And it won’t be an easy recovery for any of them. But when Luffy makes a promise, he keeps it.

“Look, you guys do whatever you want,” you say, turning back to the promise of warmth. Rubbing your frigid hands together, you mutter, “I don’t want to spend my birthday freezing my ass off for no reason.”

“It’s your birthday?” Vivi blinks.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?!” Usopp exclaims.

How good is their hearing???

“We had bigger problems.”

“Dalton! We just got word that witch is in Cocoa Weed!”

“What?!” Dalton demands, “This is terrible, the pirates just took their friend up the mountain!”

“How far is that place?” Vivi asks worriedly.

“It’s not far from here,” the woman answers, “You may have time to go after your friends.”

“No chance,” Usopp shakes his head, “Luffy and Sanji are monsters, they’ll reach the top before we have any chance of catching up to them.”

“We’ll go find the doctor. We’ll tell her that she needs to return to the castle immediately!” Vivi announces.

“I’ll take you in my sleigh,” Dalton offers immediately. Vivi and Usopp nod and you climb to your feet with them.

“You two go with Dalton,” you say.

“You’re not coming?” Usopp blinks. You shake your head.

“I’m going to stay here in case she comes this way. Besides,” you say, letting your eyes flutter shut to concentrate on the vague unease riling up your Observation Haki. You open them again and look grimly in Dalton’s direction, “I have a feeling we might not be the only ones making landfall today. I want to stay close to shore, just in case.”

“Be careful,” Vivi makes you promise, and you nod.

“Of course. I’ll see if I can find Zoro, too.”

“Wasn’t he waiting with the ship?” Vivi asks. You give her a look. Usopp makes a despairing sound and buries his face in his hands.

“Yeah, no promises there.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dalton protests, “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, our volunteer security team has the borders covered. I doubt a single fighter will make much of a difference.”

“Maybe not,” you shrug, “But your island agreed to help my friend. The least I can do is try to repay that kindness.”

Vivi and Usopp exchange glances.

“Uh… Dalton?” Usopp offers, “I know she doesn’t look like much—”

“Hey!” you protest, your mouth dropping open at the unprompted insult. Damn, Usopp doesn’t take any prisoners.

“—but she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. No offense or anything, but I doubt your security team could really do anything to help her.”

Dalton’s eyes narrow as he looks at you in a new light, and when he glances at Vivi, she just nods her agreement.

“Is that so?”

You’re still bristling from Usopp’s comment because you’re actively disguised to look older and carrying a massive sword at your hip like it weighs nothing and he still thinks you don’t look like much. No wonder your dad never took you seriously.

Wind ruffles your hair, bringing a biting cold that stings the top of your ears. Instead of trying to cover them, you inhale and tighten your grip on your sword. Bloodthirsty intent bubbles beneath surface of the water, getting stronger as the mass approaches, and you remember the way the enormous submarine submerged to chase their wayward captain.

“They’re coming,” you announce. The volunteer fighters shift nervously, clutching at their weapons, and they all stare at you.

“Who is?”

“Wapol and all his men.”

“That’s impossible!” One of them shouts.

“They wouldn’t!”

“Of course he would, he may be a coward but he’s a greedy one!”

“It’s a big force,” you continue, and they’re close enough now that you can separate out the strongest presences. Plus you have a rough headcount from your mad-dash through their ship with your re-homed snail. You turn back, looking at the assembled fighters. They’re volunteers; civilians with only the training Dalton could provide, brave enough to try and protect their home but lacking everything else. “They’re strong. Please stay behind me when they land. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

They don’t take that well.

“No way!”

“This is our home!”

“It’s our fight, not yours!”

You reach for your sword and with a pulse of Haki, draw it from its sheath. The force of your Haki sends a shockwave through the air—just a small one—that pushes the closest men back and makes them all stare at you. It’s not the same as Conqueror’s Haki but you’ve learned that Armament plus a little force makes wind.

“I trained to fight in the New World,” you tell them confidently, “I know this is your fight, but none of you are trained warriors. I won’t allow any you to get hurt when I can prevent it.”

“Well… someone should go tell Dalton!” The same man who spoke first speaks again.

“Yeah!”

“Where is he?”

“He took her friends to find the witch!”

Someone runs off to go track down Dalton and warn him, but your attention is elsewhere. The submarine is about to surface.

“Citizens of Drum Kingdom!” Wapol announces with fanfare and an ego so inflated you don’t know how it hasn’t popped yet, “Your king has finally returned! Bow to your king and welcome me home properly!”

You take a deep breath and coat your vocal cords in Haki; you learned the trick from Namur and your other fishman brothers. It’s a technique they use to make themselves louder underwater, and you’ve been using it nonstop to make your voice sound deeper. But right now, you need to be heard over the raging winds and soldiers jeering at the volunteer fighting force.

“You’re misinformed,” the boom of your voice is loud enough to shock everyone into silence, “This country has no name. Drum Kingdom was dissolved after the last king abdicated and fled the island. You’re no king, and you’re not welcome here.”

“YOU!” Wapol rages, pointing a furious finger at you, “You’re the thief that stole my transponder snail!”

“I didn’t steal him,” you correct immediately, “He’s a sentient being that I rescued from a group of pirates after he agreed to come with me.”

“You’re a lying thief and you have the gall to stand in my way?! I am the king and this is my country! Now beg me for your life and I might decide to spare you!”

“I’ll give you one warning,” you stare Wapol down. He glares back at you, fuming that you have the gall to challenge him, “Leave this island. Don’t ever come back.”

“You dare?!?! Just for that, I’ll kill you first! And then every one of you miserable upstarts!”

You raise your blade, gripping the hilt with both palms, and exhale as you widen your stance.

“Wrong choice.”

You’re a pretty bad shot. But with your blade? You never miss.

The blade of your sword is nothing but a streak of black Haki; the flying slash crosses the distance in a heartbeat, throwing Wapol’s soldiers backwards into the snow by the dozens and hitting your target dead center.

The flying slash blows through every one of Wapol’s men and hits the ex-king square in the chest and he… screams.

It’s a sound your family tried so hard to keep you from hearing, but sometimes they had no choice but to eliminate a threat and couldn’t lose the time to take you far away first.

Your attack cuts him down in an instant.

Blood sprays into the air like a grotesque fountain, staining the white snow crimson.

Horror punches you in the gut and your grip on your sword slips.

You’ve never killed anyone.

You never wanted to kill anyone.

You… just killed Wapol.

For the next few seconds, it’s pure pandemonium.

“DOCTORS!” Kuromarimo hollers once he’s gained his bearings but still in a near-complete panic, “SAVE YOUR KING!!!”

You can only stare as gloved surgeons descend on Wapol’s fallen form, surrounding him like vultures to carrion, and hope seizes your chest that they can work a miracle.

“GET THAT BITCH!” Chess screams, launching three arrows straight at you in a single shot. You’re too panicked for Observation, but your reflexes swing your sword in time to cut through the projectiles. But that eats up precious time because Wapol’s soldiers are charging at you, vengeance in their eyes and if you run, they’ll massacre every person you promised Dalton you’d protect.

Your sword sings with the promise of bloodshed and for the first time, the two of you are out of sync. With the blade pulling on your Haki, it’s a struggle to force it to dissipate. The first of Wapol’s men reaches you and with a surge of willpower, you clamp down on your Haki and force it away because if you don’t, you’ll kill them. A sword swings down at your head and you sweep your sword up to meet it, powered by nothing but the muscles in your arms and legs.

The blades clash and the power behind his strike makes your elbows and wrists spasm and you can feel it ache all the way up your arms to where your shoulder blades meet your back. Fuck, without your Haki, you’re just a child against a grown man. And these guys might not have Haki, but they’re still well-trained Grand Line fighters and a hell of a lot stronger than the rank-and-file bounty hunters Crocodile pulled from the Blues.

Your arms and shoulders ache but you’re a better swordsman and you’re still strong enough to fight back.

For now. But there’s wave after wave of soldiers and you can’t use a shockwave of Haki to throw them all back at once because all the doctors will get caught up in it too, and anything that disrupts the 20-surgeon open surgery on Wapol could kill him.

That’s the reason you can’t just drop your sword in the snow and charge in with Haki and bare hands like you did at Whiskey Peak. Instead you split your focus between keeping just enough Haki around your elbows and wrists to strengthen yourself, and all the rest is focused on disarming. The flat of your blade and the pommel of your sword are your greatest weapons, even as soldier after soldier tries his very hardest to chop your head off your shoulders.

Using your Haki like this is exhausting; keeping your Armament focused on only your wrists and elbows, Observation stretching out as far as you can to stay ahead of the barrage of attacks, shoulders slowly starting to burn under the strain of a long fight. You’ve taken out two dozen men so far, each one unconscious and safely thrown clear of the throng, none of them sporting so much as a paper cut. You’ve also been dodging Kuromarimo’s balls of black moss (which are disgusting, by the way) and the barrage of flaming arrows Chess fires off at you. He keeps aiming at the crowd of villagers behind you and between the soldiers swarming you and protecting the volunteer fighters behind you from the arrows, bullets, and flaming moss balls, you can’t do much to stop the volunteers from joining the fight.

“Don’t fight them alone!” you manage to snap out in between disarming one soldier of his rifle and dodging out of the way of another staticky moss ball. The one saving grace is that they listen to you; the soldiers are still much stronger, but the villagers have a better chance in teams of three than one-on-one. Besides, enough of the soldiers are attempting to dog-pile you that there’s not too many to go after the volunteer force.

It's honestly good exercise; if not for the panic that you might have accidentally murdered someone and the hyperawareness that any of the volunteer fighters could be injured at any second, you’d almost think this was just a training session and not a battle with thirty-five trained soldiers trying to kill you where you stand.

The only good news is that Wapol is going to be just fine. He’s already back on his feet and shouting at the doctors to get out of his way so he can come kill you himself. He’s not very grateful, that one.

A familiar voice shouts your name and it could not come at a better time.

“Dalton!”

He calls your name again and comes charging up to stand beside you.

“Leave Wapol to me!” he announces, “I’ll rid this country of him once and for all.”

“All yours,” you tell him. Dalton blocks a sword strike and your sword jabs in and twists just right to disarm the soldier and send him flying into a faraway snowbank. “Fair warning, he’s extra pissed right now.”

“I can see that,” Dalton observes as Wapol hollers and shoves at everyone in his path, “What happened?”

“I… might have almost killed him?” you say, a little bit like a question. Dalton gives you a bit of a side-eye as you take the opening he gives you to finally sheath your sword and coat your fists in Haki. The doctors are done now, and maybe it’s hypocritical but you don’t have any problem with Dalton taking Wapol out for good. Although there’s a huge difference between ending a tyrant as an act of justice and killing someone by accident because you didn’t realize how much stronger you were.

“And that’s a problem?”

“I don’t kill. Especially not by accident.”

Dalton fully stops to stare at you.

“How old are you really?”

You pause (with the exception of your fist, which slams into the soldier rushing at you and punches him backwards into the three men behind him and all four of them go crashing to the ground) and meet his eyes.

Before you can answer, the ground underneath your feet starts to tremble. It doesn’t just stay in the ground. There’s a rumbling sound, one that starts behind you and gets louder and louder as it begins to echo off the mountains.

Dalton’s eyes widen.

“It’s an avalanche!” he shouts, turning to warn the villagers behind him, “Everyone, get out of here! The whole village will be swallowed up!”

He’s too focused on warning them to see Chess take advantage of the chaos to notch another set of arrows. And you suddenly remember in full picture the way that Dalton took a bunch of them straight to the chest in canon and you charge forward, drawing your sword again as you slice the flaming arrows out of the air.

“Stand still and die!” Kuromarimo shouts as he launches more and more of his moss balls at you, and they’re staticky enough to stick to your sword so you have to dodge them and the barrage of flaming arrows that Chess fires your way.

“There’s no time for that, you fools!” Wapol shouts as he clambers onto the back of his giant… snow hippo thing, “Chess, Kuromarimo! Get on, we’re going!”

With that, Wapol and his cronies are gone. Most of the villagers have made it a good way away, but covering them and Dalton cost you valuable time to run. The rumbling is getting stronger and your Haki blares in a way that’s intensely familiar; it’s exactly like the landslide on that island with the treasure hunt where the mountain broke apart to form an army of rock monsters.

Only this isn’t an army of monsters. Probably. It’s an avalanche.

You look around frantically, trying to figure out where to go because you’re strong but you’re not stronger than a fucking force of nature.

“Dalton!” you shout, reaching out to him. His eyes widen and he sprints at you, transforming before your very eyes.

There’s barely even a second between when a massive, fur-covered mass slams into you and pushes you underneath him and when the avalanche hits. You brace yourself and summon a thin layer of Haki over every inch of your skin in the best imitation you have of the Iron Body Technique, but Dalton’s hybrid Zoan form protects you from the worst of it.

By the time Vivi, Usopp, and for some reason a shirtless, half-frozen Zoro show up, you and Dalton have already dug your way out of the snow and are just about done fishing out the unconscious soldiers.

“I’m not even going to ask,” you shake your head.

“I stopped asking a long time ago,” Usopp sighs.

“Usopp…g…g…give me your coat,” Zoro stammers out, shivering from head to toe.

“No way!” Usopp literally jumps out of the way as Zoro makes a move to grab it off him. You turn to the side to glance up at Dalton.

“Any chance you have an extra coat?” you ask. But it’s really bothering you because you can’t even imagine the amount of lost he had to get to end up on a snow-covered mountain with no shirt and no shoes and you have to know. “Zoro, why are you naked?”

“’m not naked.”

“Half-naked.”

“Went for a…” he has to pause while he shivers violently again, “training swim.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod your head, looking back at Dalton, “He went for a training swim with no clothes on.”

“I see that,” Dalton gives Zoro a wicked side-eye, “Unfortunately not.”

“D…d…dammit…”

That’s not the end of it though, because then Zoro’s eyes lock onto the nearest soldiers (beaten, bruised, unconscious, lying helplessly in the snow, wearing very warm coats) and he grins his most maniacal grin.

You grab him before he can take more than a step.

“What are you doing? Lemme take one of theirs!”

“No!” you snap, keeping a tight hold on each of his wrists even though they feel like icicles under your palms. “Do you have any idea how much effort I just put in to not kill these guys? I am not letting them freeze to death because you decided to go skinny dipping in the Arctic Circle!”

“So you’re gonna make me freeze to death?!”

“You did it to yourself!”

As you wrestle with Zoro in the snow, you become increasingly aware that you are blowing your cover as a grown adult. But you are stressed and homesick and still jittery from the adrenaline rush of being buried under an avalanche and you almost killed a guy by accident forty minutes ago. Besides, it’s your birthday and you desperately miss your family and if Zoro’s voice sounds a little like Ace’s when you squint, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

Alright, fine! You’re not fooling anyone. It’s fun to lock hands with your swordsman rival and throw each other down into the snow and if you close your eyes, it could be any one of your hundreds of brothers playing with you.

(He’s not actually going to freeze to death; you know all the signs of hypothermia and he’s nowhere near there yet.)

Vivi, ever the peacemaker, cuts in.

“Dalton, I hate to ask this, but you have a Zoan transformation, correct?”

“I do.”

“Would it be possible for you to transform into your Zoan form so that you can stay warm and Zoro can borrow your coat?”

The bicycle-powered gondola delivers you all easily up the mountain (and Vivi very kindly does not say anything about you clinging to her arm the entire ride because fuck this thing goes high up and you hate heights and Marco isn’t here to catch you if the ropes snap and you all go hurtling to your deaths). You hop off the gondola the instant that the death-trap of a transport vehicle comes to a complete stop.

“I’m going first!” Usopp shouts, pushing past you to run up the stairs. You and Zoro look at each other and then keep walking.

At the end of a tunnel, which pops out of the mountain through a metal bunker-looking thing, a snow-covered castle stands proudly. Not that Usopp would know, he’s busy cowering behind Zoro in Dalton’s borrowed coat. While Zoro tries to pry Usopp off him, you crane your neck back and stare all the way up to the top of the castle, where the sight that greets you pulls a huge smile to your face.

It’s a Jolly Roger. It’s a little shredded, both from flying in the elements and the aftermath of the battle, but it’s unmistakable. Pink cherry blossom petals behind a skull and crossbones. Dr. Hiruluk’s flag.

It’s over.

Luffy won.

Your Observation pings and you take five steps backwards toward the bunker.

“—aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

A Luffy-shaped rocket comes hurtling through the air, landing with a huge boom in the exact spot where you were standing. And the spot where Usopp and Zoro were wrestling. An explosion of powdery snow flies into the air on impact. When it clears, Luffy’s entire upper half is buried in snow, and all you can see of Usopp and Zoro is a nose sticking straight up in the air and a small patch of green hair.

Okay. Now it’s over.

“aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

“REEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIINDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!!!!” Luffy’s shout isn’t enough to mask the comedically menacing sound of his sandals slapping against the stone floor as he chases poor Chopper down.

“Psst!” you hiss through the partly open door, holding up a corner of your blanket, “In here!”

Desperate for a rescue, the tiny reindeer doesn’t hesitate to throw himself through the door and scramble underneath the blanket on your lap. You adjust the cover to hide the gap as little hooves settle on the back of your calves, a warm mass of fur pressing against your legs.

The door practically explodes as Luffy bursts into the room a second later.

“Hi Luffy,” you smile as you lean back against the couch, relaxing into the warm cushions.

“WHERE’D THE REINDEER GO?!?!?!?!” Luffy yells, still wearing Nami’s shredded coat. The missing sleeve doesn’t seem to bother him much, not with all the sprinting around he’s been doing.

“The little guy?” you ask, waiting for Luffy to nod his head so fast you see three of him, “I ate him.”

Under your blanket, Chopper quakes. At first you think he’s afraid, but then you hear the tiny little snickers and clear your throat to hide the noise of Chopper giggling. Luffy’s eyes bulge out of his head like a comic character.

“WHAT?!?!?!!?!”

He charges across the room and scrambles on top of you, one sandal on your leg and the other on your stomach as he leans in; he jams his fingers through your teeth, pulls your mouth open and practically sticks his face inside. You wait patiently, a bear trap lying still amongst the tall grasses.

“REINDEER GUY?!” Luffy shouts into your open mouth, “ARE YOU IN THERE?! I’LL GET YOU OUT!!!”

“Hmwsts teebsobfk aorkf,” you say reasonably as Luffy attempts to figure out how to rescue his new friend from your stomach.

“I WANTED HIM TO JOIN MY CREW!” Luffy yells.

“Fnj baem afhierk ladfvb.”

“NO IT ISN’T! I’LL GET HIM OUT!”

He takes the bait and sticks his hand into your mouth. You coat your teeth with just enough Haki that he’ll really feel it and bite down hard on his rubber fingers.

Luffy yanks his hand out of your mouth and hollers, “OWWWWWWW!!!! OW OW OW OW OW!”

“Oh, hang on, you said reindeer,” you pretend to realize as Luffy hops around the room, clutching at his lightly chomped hand, “I thought you said beef stew. Yeah, the reindeer went that way. He said something about how you were too slow to catch him?”

You point in a random direction and Luffy immediately forgets about his hand, straightening up and shaking himself off.

“REINDEER!” He hollers, taking off again.

You count to five.

“He’s probably on the other side of the castle by now,” you say lightly, “You can come out.”

“He’s pretty of stupid,” Chopper giggles, emerging bravely from under the blanket. You can’t help your grin.

“I mean, I just let him stick his gross fingers in my mouth, so I don’t think I’m any better.”

“You did that for me?” Chopper asks quietly as he looks up at you.

“Nah, I just like messing with him. It was worth it for the bit,” you joke. Get it? Cause you bit him?

“Who are you, anyway?” Chopper hops up on the chair across from you. You pick the blanket off your lap and wrap it around your shoulders. Usopp invited you to play in the snow with him but as fun as it sounds to build a giant snowman while you all wait for Nami to be discharged, you’d rather be warm and toasty inside the castle in front of the cozy fire.

It reminds you of the library inside the Moby, curled up on your brother’s lap, strong arms wrapped around you as they read you a story to the sound of crackling flames in the fireplace. It was a tradition whenever the ship docked at a winter island for longer than a few days. Thatch’s World-Famous Hot Chocolate, with homemade marshmallows and a spicy cinnamon mix sprinkled over top of the whipped cream. Dozens of siblings gathered on the couches, listening to whichever lucky bastard got to read to you.

The fights over it were legendary. Your dad had to step in the first and only time it came to blows, but that just opened the doors to all kinds of trades and bribes and intense negotiations before Marco decreed that reading rights would be by an assigned rotation.

Of course, you always had veto power. And you used it shamelessly. Blenheim is a born narrator, with a knack for silly voices and a rounded tone that blends words together to create vivid scenes that draw you in like nothing else.

It’s been a long time since anyone read to you—everything just got busier as you got older and you really weren’t in the mood for it during your punishment—but you’re pretty sure Blenheim is still smug about being your favorite.

Your chest twists and you give Chopper a half-smile.

“I’m traveling with the crew,” you tell the little reindeer, “I met them a few weeks ago and Luffy offered to take me where I’m trying to go.”

You hold out your hand for him to shake and introduce yourself. Chopper looks down at your hand and gives you his hoof.

“I’m Tony Tony Chopper. I’m a doctor!”

“It’s nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Are you a pirate?” Chopper stares at you and you have to resist the urge to throw your arms around him and bury yourself in his silky soft fur. You only got a brush of it when you shook his hoof but holy shit those cute little eyes are as wide as dinner plates and they shine with admiration. He’s ever cuter than you imagined in your wildest dreams. “Nami told me how strong you are! And how you defeated those bounty hunters all by yourself! She says you’re even stronger than Luffy!”

Yeah, it’s official. You would do anything for him. It hits you suddenly what kind of power you’ve been wielding against your family with your mastery of puppy eyes. You’ve never been on the other side of it before, but watching the way Chopper’s face lights up, you can actually feel your heart melting. You want to go find Wapol and slam his face into the mountain another dozen times.

No, a hundred more times!

“I’m not a pirate. But I want to be one someday.”

“I… do too,” Chopper admits.

You tilt your head at him curiously.

“So what are you going to do?” you ask. Chopper suddenly finds the floor fascinating, and he’s sort of swaying back and forth on the chair as he hems and haws.

“I can’t be a pirate! Even if I wanted to, no matter what Luffy says! I can’t be one!”

You shrug.

“Okay then.”

Chopper’s head snaps up and those devastating eyes lock onto yours. Ugh, he’s so cute it makes your stomach hurt. Or maybe it’s just a post-adrenaline stomach ache. Or you’re just hungry. Whatever.

“You’re not going to try and convince me?” he asks, brows furrowed in confusion. You shrug again, making an unconcerned face as you shake your head.

“Nope. That’s your business. You should do what you want to.”

“Alright, young lady. Let’s see it.”

You blink at Doctor Kureha in confusion; you’re still hanging out by the fire, waiting for your friends to be ready to go (you’ll be able to tell by Luffy’s triumphant yelling), and the old doctor just barged in without any warning.

“See… what?”

There’s no intent to harm, so your Observation Haki doesn’t protect you from the painful swat to the head.

“OW!”

“That’s what you get for hiding an injury from your doctor!”

“What injury?” you snap, rubbing at your aching head. Kureha scowls at you.

“Chopper says you’re bleeding and that nose of his is never wrong. Now show me where you’re injured.”

You blink.

You’re not bleeding and you’d definitely know if you were hurt. Maybe you’re a little sore from the fighting, and maybe your stomach has been cramping a little bit but why would Chopper think you’re…

“Oh,” you say, putting a hand to your stomach reflexively. You look down at your body—your fourteen-year-old body that you’ve been training like an Olympic-level athlete since you were five, that is strong and lithe and a little… late to develop.

Fucking hell. Did you seriously just get your period for the first time? Crap, you did not miss this bullshit.

Doctor Kureha is about as sharp as they come and the disapproving look in her eyes hardens into full-on anger. Without warning, she plants her palms on your shoulders and shoves you backwards into the chair behind you before looming over you menacingly.

“I thought you were reckless before, but I never imagined you could possibly be this stupid!” she spits at you in fury, “What possible reason could a child have for running around the Grand Line by herself?!”

“I’m not a child, I’m fourteen!” you retort.

“I’m a hundred and thirty-nine, you think a few measly years make a difference?!”

You try to stand up but Kureha knocks you back down with a kick to your kneecap that makes your leg go numb. You have no idea how she’s getting around your Observation Haki and you’re pretty damn sure she’s not going to tell you if you ask.

“Stop hitting me!” you snap. Kureha glares at you with the force of a thousand disappointed parents and your face burns.

“You, little girl, are going to tell me everything.”

“Don’t call me little girl,” you glower, “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Kureha demands, “It would be one thing if you’d found a nice strong crew to keep you safe, but that Monkey boy was clear as day that you refused to join him. Start talking.”

You glare up at her.

Doctor Kureha watches you sternly.

“Fine, then,” her eyes narrow, putting a hand on her hip, “Don’t tell me. The Marines are always looking for runaways to pad their ranks, I’m sure they’d be happy to come take custody of you.”

Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat.

She’s bluffing. She wouldn’t.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, hands curling into fists.

“What are you going to do to stop me, little girl?”

You jump up, lashing out with the full force of your Haki, and this time the force is enough to throw her back. Kureha flies backwards, slamming into the bookcase against the far wall with a crash as books and ingredients and measuring supplies tumble to the floor.

One hit isn’t enough to keep her down, so you chase her across the room, sword drawn and ready for the counterattack.

“You saved my friend’s life,” you say coldly, your blade frozen directly over the old woman’s jugular. She doesn’t look remotely concerned enough about the fact that you could slit her throat with a single twitch of your hand. Then again, your Haki is still absolutely useless at predicting her movements and she keeps pulling out more surprises. Also, there’s the fact that you’ve never killed anyone in your life and you’re not about to start now. Also also, you’re not killing Chopper’s mom, what kind of shithead would you have to be to even consider that? “But threaten me like that again and you’ll regret it.”

You’re not expecting Kureha to give you a wide and delighted smile, but the old bitch is so crazy you’re not really surprised by it either.

“I had to keep my conscience clear,” she tells you, rolling her shoulders once and easily brushing off the debris. Any concerns you had about hurting her with your attack evaporate; you’re not sure if she even felt that. Her eyes track up your blade until she’s staring at the hilt, “Course, with a sword like that, I should’ve guessed you could handle yourself. Where the hell’d you get it?”

Suddenly, you’re struck with the urge to hide your sword away where she can’t stare at it anymore, and you split the difference by lowering it and sheathing the blade at your side.

“None of your business.”

Kureha scoffs and climbs easily to her feet. She brushes dirt off her sleeves and stares at you curiously. You do not care for the way her eyes linger on your face.

“Come on, girlie. No one just finds a sword like that lying around, especially not that sword.”

You swallow nervously but don’t answer. Even though you just sent her flying across the room, you suddenly feel like all your strength and Haki aren’t remotely enough to put a dent in her. The doctor sees your hesitation and smirks at you.

“How about this, you tell me who gave it to you and I’ll tell you its name.”

Your sword has a name?

You stare down at it, taking in the slightly curved blade and the golden hand guard that wraps from the hilt to the end of the diamond-patterned grip, and you wonder why it never occurred to you that your sword already has a name.

It’s a really awesome sword. It’s better quality than just about every sword you’ve come across since leaving the New World, with maybe the exception of Wado Ichimonji because that katana is absolutely sick, but you never wondered why. It’s a present from your dad, he wasn’t going to give you something shitty to protect yourself with.

“How would you know its name?” you demand, narrowing your eyes at her and focusing on your Haki as hard as you can. Kureha leers at you for a second before something shifts and you can suddenly feel all the cues you were missing. She’s amused by you and that kind of pisses you off a lot.

“I’ve seen it a few times. Not in many years, but I patched up that idiot more than once.”

“The sword?” you blink at her. Kureha rolls her eyes again and whaps you on the head. Seeing it coming in your Haki doesn’t make it any easier to avoid.

“No, you idiot! The idiot who had that thing before you.”

Oh. Okay, that makes sense. If she knows the sword’s name, it’s probably because she met the guy who named it. Damn, you really do want to know, maybe it’s something super hardcore.

“Fine. My dad gave it to me.”

Kureha’s eyes widen in immediate recognition and she snaps her fingers while she nods, clearly delighted at putting the pieces together. Your heart stops.

“That’s it, I knew I knew that face! You look an awful lot like him, even if you’re a bit small to be his.”

“You can’t tell anyone!” you demand, your cheeks flushing bright red. The old doctor fixes you with a Look that makes you bristle.

“If you’re strong enough to look out for yourself, then your business is your business. But fair warning, if your Pops comes a-knockin’ then you’re delusional if you think I’m going to lie to him. I don’t like you enough for that.”

You scowl.

“I don’t like you either.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Dr. Kureha winks. You just scowl deeper. “Aw, don’t get twisted up about it, you and your friends should be long gone by then. Anyways, a deal’s a deal. That piece of metal you got?”

She stops talking to stare at you expectantly, and it takes you a second to figure out that’s your cue to draw your sword again.

It looks the same as it always does, the metal shines in the reflection from the lights and the grip is a familiar weight in your hands even if it took you a long time to get used to it. You always have to hold it in two hands, you’re too small to wield it in one even if Vista said the style of cutlass could be used that way.

“He used to call her his ace.”

You wait for Kureha to continue, but yeah, no, she’s done.

“Wait, that’s it? His ace?”

Kureha shrugs.

“That’s all I got for you, brat.”

“Wait, his ace or—”

“Just ace.”

Ace.

Your sword’s name is Ace.

You’re too annoyed at Doctor Kureha to outright laugh in front of her, but the smile tugs at your mouth anyways. That’s kind of funny, now you’ve got a sword named Ace to go along with your brother named Ace.

You swing Ace through the air, and maybe it’s your imagination but to your Haki it almost feels like the sword is thrumming with excitement to be recognized properly. Cool. When you’re somewhere private, you’ll officially introduce yourself to your sword and apologize for not knowing her name sooner.

“Well, thanks,” you tell her as your put your sword away, “So, uh… do you have any tampons or—”

Chapter Text

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Marco’s shout carried above the noise on deck, a once-rare occurrence that had become the norm. Tempers were running hot and patience had worn thin, none more so than from their first mate, “This is COMPLETELY UNACCEPT—”

“MARCO!”

Pops’ sharp reprimand cut through the noise, stopping the tirade in its track. Izou felt his own spine stiffen, anxiety pricking at his stomach in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

“Come here.”

Marco inhaled sharply, eyes shining with defiance, but only for a second. Izou watched his brother deflate before crossing the deck with his hands curled into tight fists by his side. Next to him, Fossa ground down on his cigar loud enough for Izou to hear. Neither of them spoke.

It wasn’t their place to interrupt.

Marco stopped in front of Pops’ chair and stared straight up at their captain. The sight made Izou’s stomach turn; no matter what happened, the captain and first mate were always a team, the backbone that the entire crew depended on.

Watching them at odds was dizzying and Izou detested feeling so unbalanced.

Pops frowned, his forehead furrowing with sorrow so deep that it ripped the breath from Izou’s lungs. He’d gotten practiced at ignoring the many IV lines and medical aids that adorned his father, but in that moment, the sight of his invulnerable captain looking so worn out and tired was more than he could bear.

Without speaking, Pops bent down to lower his open palm. Marco flinched—a full body thing—and averted his gaze. Still, he didn’t need to look to climb onto it.

Silence hung low and heavy over the deck. Already regretting it, Izou raised his head and saw a sight he hadn’t seen in decades, since well before Marco became their first mate. Pops’ fingers were curling inwards, surrounding him completely. Izou felt his own face grow warm with secondhand embarrassment but Marco didn’t protest—because he knew it was futile? Because he needed something he couldn’t ask for?—as their father’s hand closed fully, trapping him in a space too small for a grown man.

Behind him, there was a spike of alarm, and Izou didn’t even need to look back to know it was one of their newest crewmates (he and his crew had officially joined a few months ago, and they’d been just as blindsided as the rest of them).

For a moment that stretched out longer than Izou could count, no one moved. And then Pops uncurled his fingers.

The phoenix nestled in the center of their father’s palm blinked up at him, neck craning back to fix him with a mournful stare.

And then he keened.

It was a wounded sound that punctured all the way through Izou’s heart and ripped at his chest, the longing and misery and fear echoing in the very core of Izou’s soul. The wooden armrest creaked under the force from his free hand, but Pops’ thumb was gentle as he dragged it down the fiery plumage along Marco’s back.

“Come back when you’re ready,” Pops ordered softly. His voice was steadier than Izou ever could have managed, no sign of the anguish that was lying just beneath the surface.

His captain was the strongest man Izou had ever met.

With a flash of blue flames and a piercing cry, the Phoenix took off into the sky.

Izou woke up with pain in his chest.

For a while, he just kept his eyes closed and breathed in and out in the darkness of his cabin. It was quiet and the seas were calm; a gentle morning in all ways but one.

It didn’t take long to realize that the breathing exercises weren’t helping.

Izou sat up, long hair cascading around his shoulders and brushing against his bare chest, and let his legs rest against the smooth wood of the floorboards. He tried to breathe from the new position, drawing in a deep inhale and holding it for a long count before exhaling in a perfectly controlled stream. It did nothing to the deep-seated ache that started low in his sternum and carved its way up to where his heart rested in the cavity of his chest.

From experience, he knew that trying harder wouldn’t make a difference. Not for this.

He pushed off the covers, gathered up his things, and headed for the commanders’ private bathroom. A shower would help.

Brushing his hair was as good a mediation as any.

Reaching for the box containing his hair pin, Izou’s fingers brushed against soft velvet. He frowned. Pushing the lid back revealed that it was empty.

“Hmm.”

Izou quickly rummaged through the items on his dresser, finding everything except the decorative pin he was looking for. He had others. He could just use a plain one. For today. Of all days.

The hallways were empty. Izou had always been a particularly early riser, his body naturally acclimated to rising before the sun. It was unsettling to walk silently down the halls but his hair was still down and there was no point putting on his makeup until his hair was out of the way, so at that point, Izou had just abandoned all thoughts of getting dressed and left his room in a sleep robe and bare feet.

He'd been drunk last night along with everyone else and he’d been in the mess hall for a lot of that. So it was as good a place as any to start.

Izou pushed the doors open and had a second to brace himself for the disgusting floors he’d have to walk on before coming face-to-face with an utterly spotless room. Which was particularly impressive for how massive it was and how chaotic the evening had grown.

But every table he passed had been wiped down until it shone, benches cleaned and strapped upside-down to the tables to give the cleaning crew plenty of room to mop, and the floor boards were so clean he could… well, it would take a very dire situation for Izou to willingly eat off the floor, but they were more than clean enough to walk on barefoot. Izou headed up the steps to the raised tables, half of which were on a platform to allow Pops, Jozu, and the other largest members to sit comfortably with the rest of the crew. The Commanders’ table was closest to the kitchens, so Izou had a chance to look over the entire hall for his missing pin.

He half-expected it to be sitting at his place near the end of the table, but it was cleaned with the benches and stools strapped to the top just like all the others. No sign of his missing pin.

Izou sighed.

Maybe someone found it and left it in the kitchen?

For lack of any better ideas, Izou headed down the far steps and into the kitchens. Even at four in the morning, they weren’t empty. A team of bakers were in the back section, kneading massive heaps of dough for that day’s bread.

“You’re up early, Commander,” Parragain greeted as he shoved the dough back down with all his body weight. He’d been with the crew long enough that he’d seen Izou even less kempt before. Unlike the other six bakers who were just staring at him in slack-jawed confusion.

“I’ve misplaced my hair pin,” Izou answered with a frown, gathering the sleeves of his robe to tuck his hands inside, “No one happened to find it last night, did they?”

“Not sure,” Parragain shook his head. He glanced at the other bakers, who’d managed to stop staring long enough to shrug, “You could ask Commander Thatch?”

“He’s up?” Izou blinked. Thatch was by no means a late riser, but he typically slept until the last possible minute before he had to be on shift.

“Uh…”

Izou sighed.

“He never went to bed, did he?”

“I don’t think so, Commander.”

Izou strode into Thatch’s private kitchen without knocking.

“You should go to bed,” he announced, wishing he had his usual sandals to punctuate the command with sharp steps. Thatch turned around and froze when he caught sight of him.

“I must be seeing things.”

Izou scowled at Thatch’s too-wide eyes. His brother had seen him without his hair up before, there was no use making a big deal of it. Seas, this was why Izou never went anywhere before making himself presentable.

“I misplaced my hairpin.”

“What, all of them?” Thatch blinked.

“The one I need.” Izou growled. Tired eyes stared back at him and Izou forced himself to exhale the frustration. He knew that glassy-eyed stare, Thatch was barely conscious at this point and taking anything out on the chef was as unfair as it was unproductive. When he was calm, he asked in a quiet voice, “Have you seen it?”

Thatch set his piping bag down on the counter.

“You had it,” he said unhelpfully.

“I’m aware.”

Thatch turned back to his cutting board—the tray of half-frosted pastries apparently discarded for now— and began chopping vegetables in earnest. The thudding of the knife against wood had none of its usual rhythmic steadiness and Izou itched to grab the knife out of his exhausted brother’s hand before he lost a finger.

“Thatch—”

Thatch slammed the knife into the board with a bang that had Izou jumping back, hands jumping to his sides where his guns were missing because he was still in a bed robe and it wasn’t even five in the morning. His eyes were red and raw and full of fury.

“If you try to tell me to go to bed, so help me Izou I will—”

“Do you have any tea?” Izou interrupted quietly. Thatch stopped, swallowing hard before taking a deep breath and resetting himself.

“Yeah,” Thatch nodded stiffly, “Tea. I can do that.”

It was a cold and foggy morning, the kind that made him pity whichever of their brothers were stuck in the crow’s nests for watch. Thatch and Izou sat shoulder to shoulder, staring out over the water.

“Red Hair will be here this afternoon,” Izou broke the silence, fingers drawing warmth from the mug they were wrapped around. Thatch made a sound that wasn’t quite a hum.

“Doubt he’ll be back by then,” the chef muttered. Izou agreed. It had been over a week since Marco took off. As badly as Izou ached for his family to be whole, especially today, he knew there was no chance his brother would return for it. He could, if they needed him. Marco always had his personal transponder on him; he was never more than a call away no matter the distance. (And the question of where exactly the transponder went when he transformed into his full phoenix form was one they had discussed at length with enormous amusement)

Izou took a sip of his tea, closing his eyes and savoring the smooth, earthy flavor. Even exhausted, Thatch had long-since mastered brewing tea exactly the way Izou liked it. It was one of the few comforts from home he’d found over the years; there was no way to export tea from Wano, but the native plant had somehow found its way to nearby islands for cultivation.

“Do you…”

Thatch trailed off.

Izou looked at him warily as a cloud of negative emotion choked up his Observation Haki. Nothing he hadn’t been feeling from his brother since the day Lexie… disappeared. But whatever it was, Thatch couldn’t keep it down anymore.

Izou waited.

And waited.

And…

“She loves us, right?”

Izou blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“I… would fucking die for that kid but I…”

Thatch’s voice cut out and Izou could only watch as his brother struggled to breathe. With a serious effort, he pulled a deep breath in and continued, “With everything… I just…”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Izou cut him off sharply, not willing to hear another word.

“What?”

Izou shook his head in disdain.

“I know you can be thickheaded, but that’s idiocy beyond anything I expect from you.”

Thatch wasn’t convinced. Not yet. Izou sighed and shifted his mug of tea into his other hand.

“Of every question I have, and believe me, there are many, that’s never been one of them.”

And he did have questions. When he’d first heard Pops shout, a thunderous roar that shook the entire ship, Izou had been confused and alarmed and dread had sunk heavy in his stomach. He and the other commanders had rushed over, finding a shell-shocked Thatch and a livid Pops in an empty bedroom, a plush toy in place of a Devil Fruit.

At first, it felt like stepping back in time, when every single day began with a ship-wide hunt to find the elusive spot that their baby sister had fallen asleep in this time. Izou had truly believed that it had been an impulsive decision spurred on by months of frustration and the unexpected arrival of a Devil Fruit. It was unusual for Lexie; as much as she loved excitement and danger, she wasn’t reckless. Not truly. It was rare that she acted without first considering the consequences, even if she had the unfortunate habit of deciding those consequences were a fair price to pay to do what she wanted.

Izou could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye as he and his division combed their assigned section. Lexie was frustrated and Thatch arrived with the fruit and she saw a perfect way to circumvent her punishment. It was far too dangerous to leave a Devil Fruit user untrained, Pops would have no choice but to lift the training ban for her own safety—even if it would result in a different punishment. And it wasn’t as though she could have left the ship, they would find her and she’d be grounded a dozen times over (at least), and eventually they’d all get used to the reality of their precious sister being a Fruit user. It wasn’t ideal, but at the same time, there was a part of Izou that knew something had to change. Maybe this would be what Lexie needed after all?

And then the revelations started.

Marco remembering that the little chest she’d given Thatch was a matched set, one he’d bought for her more than a decade ago. A strange coincidence, but not impossible. Much like how she’d kept the plush toy from Shanks the whole time.

Someone from the thirteenth asking another crew member why he hadn’t gone with the rest of the mission. Pulling ropes out of the water and finding the ends cut, the cloth bloated with water and crusted in salt from hours dangling in the ocean. Discovering that there was a boat (now long gone) that had been fully stocked and readied for departure on Marco’s orders.

Marco’s orders that he swore he hadn’t written, despite the fact that it was his handwriting. And later, when Haruta discovered entire journals filled with pages and pages and pages of not just Marco’s but also his handwriting.

Pops ordering them to get her vivre cards, and Izou returning from his cabin in a state of utter shock because the card Pops had entrusted to him all those years ago, his prized possession that he’d carefully hidden away, was gone. Reaching the deck to find his fellow commanders in similar states of shock, because sixteen pieces of her vivre card were gone—including Pops’.

Except for the single card tucked into the band of Ace’s hat. A hat they’d all seen her wearing at dinner only hours prior.

Ace had left the ship immediately, hell-bent on chasing their missing sister down. But Pops had stopped everyone else. Izou agreed with his decision. A single unmarked vivre card that she easily could have switched for any of the hundreds of cards on board was no guarantee of anything. Especially after Rakuyo came back from the Navigation room and reported chaos in the storage room, missing log poses, misplaced maps, that nearly every Eternal Pose had been shuffled around in a way that would take hours to reorganize. 

Izou wasn’t positive why, but that was the point of no return for him.

This was no impulse decision.

Lexie had been planning this for a very, very long time.

(It was as much a relief as it was gut-wrenching, to know she had at least prepared before running off to the New World by herself.)

Izou thought back to the many times he’d wanted to grab his little sister by shoulders and shake her for answers; who had been secretly fighting with her, why she wouldn’t tell them, what did she remember from her infancy that would make her desperate enough to go behind Pops’ back? He wished he had.

But that question… that horrible sense of doubt that had been eating away at his brother…

Izou would be lying if he said he didn’t understand that feeling. With every layer peeled away, every secret uncovered, he could only look on in shock and wonder what else she’d done that they still hadn’t figured out, how she’d managed to keep all of this hidden, why she had done any of this at all.

And it hurt.

It hurt to look at the gaps Alexandria had left in her wake, to try and fail to reconcile his stubborn and sweet and mischievous and adoring little sister with the person who had lied to their faces as she plotted and prepared and clutched her secrets so tight to her chest that they never had any idea of just how much she was hiding.

But despite all that, despite how Izou was still reeling from it all, there was one thing he never doubted. Not for a single instant.

“You know we’ve been through every inch of her room. She left just about everything behind. But you know what isn’t there?”

Thatch’s eyes were pinned on the horizon line.

“Her bracelet.”

Hazel eyes drifted shut, pain flashing across the chef’s face.

“It’s a ruby, she could sell it.”

“When she left behind half a dozen gold doubloons?” Izou pointed out, “Thatch, she never takes that bracelet off. Not even when she stopped…”

Izou cut off, unprepared for the surge of emotions at remembering her fight with Pops, or the gut-wrenching moment when Lexie skipped into the mess hall like she didn’t have a care in the world, a placid plastic smile on her face, her back empty of their father’s mark.

She’d been planning to leave since that moment. Maybe sooner. Even if he didn’t know what his little sister was after (or what she was thinking, she was strong but the New World ate strong fighters alive and spat them back out in pieces), Izou was certain about that.

“Not even when she stopped wearing Pops’ mark,” Izou finished quietly.

Thatch flinched in on himself, face pinching tight with emotion he was far too tired to hide. And while the chef usually wore his heart on his sleeve, this level of exhaustion made him… volatile. Izou took a long, slow sip of his tea, trying to savor the taste and warmth in the cold morning fog while he waited out the storm.

“Sometimes…” Thatch stopped as soon as he started speaking.

Patience hadn’t come naturally to Izou. But over the years, necessity had given him sufficient practice to wait.

“Sometimes when she looks at me… it’s like…” Thatch trailed off, his hands twitching and tapping against the sides of the crate, restless with anxiety, “…it’s like she’s looking at a dead man. And I know she said she doesn’t have visions, but… I don’t know how else to explain it. I’m not crazy! She knows something. I have no idea what but it just feels like… her whole life, she’s been waiting for something. Not even just waiting, she’s been getting ready for it. The matching chests, I—she was five, Izou. What are the fucking chances? And her notebooks? Remember how she used to draw all over the walls? We never even questioned it but she’s been writing those books in a secret language her entire life. I just wish we knew why.”

He couldn’t agree more. Thatch wasn’t crazy; even Madame Shyarly had agreed that her latent talent for Observation was unusual.

“When we find her, we’ll ask,” Izou answered. Silence fell over the water. But it was comfortable this time, the doubts quieted.  

Thatch was calmer than he’d been in days, no more hunched back or raised shoulders or tight frown. It was a relief in more ways than one. Thatch’s job was to cook; he made all Pops’ meals and knew all the ingredients to keep his blood pressure down, designed menus for the crew full of comforting and hearty foods, and watched over their brothers to make sure no one over-exerted themselves. It was far more than Izou could do for the crew right now. He’d taken his division out to mete out supplies to his share of their allies, but beyond that, his usefulness was limited.

“What do you think she’s doing now?” Thatch whispered, his voice hoarse.

Izou actually chuckled, bumping his shoulder against his brother’s.

“I could not even begin to guess,” he said honestly, thinking of the futility of trying to pin down his little sister’s actions, “Knowing her, I’m sure she’s suckered some poor souls into doing her bidding.”

Thatch let out a soft huff—not quite a laugh, but close.

“That does sound like her.”

They didn’t chat much more as Izou drank his tea, but despite the quiet, neither of them moved. Gradually, the day was warming up; it would be beautiful once the sun was fully risen and the fog melted.

There was a flash of blue in the distance. Izou squinted, leaning forward to get a better look.

“What is it?”

“I think…” Izou started, staring hard to port. There was a flicker of something at the edge of his Haki range and his mouth opened. “It might be…”

A sudden gust of wind cleared out a large stretch of fog, and suddenly the shape was much clearer as it grew bigger. Not that there was much question. The phoenix circled the ship once before landing gently on deck. It was an anticlimactic return, especially compared to the way he’d left. All three of them just stared silently at each other for a few moments.

“We weren’t expecting you back so soon,” Izou confessed.

In a shower of flame, the phoenix was replaced by his wayward brother. He looked better than the last time Izou saw him. Nervous, but better.

“I wasn’t planning to be,” Marco admitted in return. There had to be something about the early morning that made it easier for his brothers to speak their mind, because Marco continued when Izou expected him to stop. “But… it’s her birthday.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Izou understood the turbulent emotions, the urge to run far away from the tangled mess and frantic plans, and the gnawing ache to have his family whole. So he offered an encouraging smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Eh…” Thatch chimed in, making a so-so gesture with his hand and pretending that he wasn’t every bit as relieved to see him as Izou. Marco shook his head fondly but it didn’t take long for his expression to sour.

“I’m sorry, yoi,” Marco apologized. Izou rolled his eyes. “I was being a jackass—”

“Yep,” Thatch agreed. Marco glared at him.

“I’m trying to apologize.”

“And we don’t care,” Izou informed him.

“My behavior was—”

“Marco, buddy,” Thatch cut him off, “Everyone saw Pops squish you like a bad little birdie. A little public humiliation goes a long way; no one even remembers what a dick you were being.”

Izou nodded.

The tips of Marco’s ears burned bright red and Izou couldn’t help himself.

He laughed.

Izou’s laughter set off Thatch, who nearly fell off his crate laughing. Marco rolled his eyes, waiting patiently for the laughter to die down on its own. It didn’t. Thatch was beyond exhausted from days of not sleeping, and Izou was so relieved to be past that awful tension that he couldn’t collect himself properly. Eventually, Marco got tired of waiting.

“Alright, alright, knock it off.”

“You’re like—” Thatch cackled, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, “A squished little—baby—HA—bird!!!”

Thatch always did get giddy when he got too tired. Marco raised a patient eyebrow at him and seas Izou missed that calm, unflappable expression.

“You’re going to bed, yoi,” Marco informed him, easily pulling him up by his arm, “Four hours, minimum.”

Thatch just kept laughing. He leaned into Marco’s hold, bumping his forehead against their brother’s shoulder. Marco shook his head but he didn’t fool either of them. He was smiling as he patted Thatch’s head.

“And what’s with you?” Marco asked dryly as Izou managed to calm the last of his laughter, wiping a tear out of his eye. Izou suddenly remembered that he was on deck in nothing but a thin robe and bare feet, his hair down and his face without any makeup.

“I… misplaced my hair pin.”

Marco’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Izou blinked, surprised to see his brother so dubious at the thought of Izou losing something. Nobody was perfect, they all made mistakes sometimes!

Izou opened his mouth to voice that opinion when Marco held up a finger and pointed behind them.

“That one?”

Izou turned and sure enough, resting on a crate literally inches behind where the two of them had been sitting for nearly an hour, was Izou’s missing hair pin. The one Lexie had given him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion or the relief at having Marco back, or just the fact that it was really fucking funny, but when Thatch burst out laughing all over again, Marco and Izou laughed just as hard.

“I’m not one of your sons,” Jimbei said. The words hung in the privacy of the captain's cabin, no one to hear them except for the man they were meant for. They’d been dancing around the issue for hours and enough was enough. Red-Hair would be arriving soon, the window for a private conversation was closing, “There is no need for you to put on a brave face for me.”

“I appreciate your concern, my friend. But it’s not necessary,” Whitebeard answered.  Jimbei said nothing. Instead, he gave his friend a long, searching look before sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him.

A stubborn mountain of a man, it took a very long time for Whitebeard to break the silence. Jimbei stopped keeping track after the first thirty minutes elapsed in contemplative (but heavy) silence. But Jimbei was content to simply share that time with him.

“I would know if she was hurt,” Whitebeard said, nearly an hour after Jimbei had posed the question, his hand rising to wrap around the handmade bracelet encircling his wrist. Jimbei sat silently, watching the single tear roll down without any judgement, “I would feel it.”

Jimbei believed him completely. It brought him no small measure of reassurance to hear that his beloved niece was safe for the time being.

“This is my fault.”

It hurt seeing his friend so deeply distressed, but at the same time, Jimbei was honored to be trusted in such a way. There were very few people alive who’d ever seen the man known as the World’s Strongest shed a tear of grief.

The final words he said on the topic were a promise. No, more than that. An oath.

“I won’t allow anything to happen to her.”

“Neither will we,” Jimbei swore.

There was no need to say more.

A knock at the door interrupted the silence, and neither of them were surprised. They both felt the crewmember approaching.

“Pops?” he called from the other side of the door, “The Red Force just docked.”

“Thank you, my son,” Whitebeard called back. He looked at Jimbei, no sign of the painful conversation they’d been having before. “Hopefully that brat has good news for us for a change.”

All the Commanders were waiting on deck when Whitebeard and Jimbei joined them; Jimbei was pleased to see Marco had returned to the ship. He’d still been absent when the Sun Pirates arrived the night before.

With none of the posturing Jimbei expected, Shanks and his men boarded the Moby.

“We all tried, just like you asked,” Shanks announced, shaking his head ruefully, “They wouldn’t take so much as a single letter.”

“Which means either they can’t find her, or she’s convinced them not to,” Beckman added, lighting up his cigarette.

“Knowing Lexie? Could be either,” Hartua shook his head. Namur crossed his arms over his chest.

“She does have those birds eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“So there’s a good chance they can find her,” Marco crossed his arms over his chest and looked right at Shanks, “What are the odds Morgans would be willing to help us draw her out?”

Shanks frowned, his lips pulling into a tight line.

“Depends on what kind of interview you’d be willing to give him. But even if he could be convinced, which is doubtful, he’s still under constant surveillance by the government.”

“Too risky,” Marco agreed.  Shanks frowned but he nodded and moved on.

“I hate to ask the obvious, but what about her vivre card? I know you made one.”

“We did,” Whitebeard agreed.

“She took all of them. Except the one in Ace’s hat.”

“And that’s the hat we all saw her wearing at dinner that night,” Thatch called helpfully.

“So where’s Ace?”

“Following it. In case she didn’t swap it out.”

“That’s enough,” Whitebeard ordered, cutting off the conversation completely, “this is not a discussion to be held in the open. Especially not when it comes to those damnable birds.”

“Lead the way,” Shanks gestured.

“Last thing,” Curiel announced as the meeting between the Commanders, the Red-Hairs, and the few other allies and captains currently present on the Moby began to wrap up, setting a crate down on the table. Jimbei had been given his own smaller crate the night before, which had been safely loaded onto the Sun Pirate’s ship. He knew that the various divisions of Whitebeard’s crew had been busy these last few weeks, delivering similar shipments to Allied Crews across the New World. “You need me to explain it again?”

“Ah…”

“We’re set,” Beckman interrupted his captain, “Captain might not understand the details—”

“And I don’t!” Shanks agreed.

“But the rest of us were paying attention.”

“Interesting Devil Fruit though,” Shanks mused. Jimbei agreed. He’d been more than impressed by the Whitebeard’s plan when he first heard it, and seeing the work of the Allied Captain’s fruit in person was astounding. “I didn’t know he could use his power like that.”

It was an interesting power, and a clever plan that made excellent use of the incredibly large reach of the Whitebeards’ Fleet. Haruta—who’d explained everything in detail while Shanks looked on blankly—nodded at the words, the very picture of determination.

“It’s going to take a while to get everything set up. But once we do, it’s only a matter of time. We’re going to find her.”

With a deep breath, he finished with, “No matter what it takes.”

Chapter Text

Chopper sprints down the little rope, yanking the sled after him at breakneck speeds.

You laugh along with Luffy, your joyous laughter twisting together with Usopp and Nami’s screams. Ace would love this, he always—

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock as the wires suddenly connect in your brain. You shoot up out of your seat, gripping the back of the sled tightly as you practically hang over the back to stare at Doctor Kureha on top of the mountain.

“WAIT, ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” you shout at the top of your lungs, shock coursing through your entire body. The old woman just throws her head back and laughs at your expense.

“Took you long enough!”

You collapse numbly back onto the bench. At your side, Ace vibrates with intensity. Your fingertips are numb in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.

“What’s wrong?” Sanji asks, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

“I just realized who my sword belonged to.”

Zoro cracks an eye open and raises his eyebrow at you.

“Oh yeah? Anyone interesting?”

You shrug, kind of for lack of anything better to do with yourself. As much as you know they’d all love to hear the answer, you’re a little freaked out from Doctor Kureha figuring you out instantly.

Zoro accepts the answer and closes his eyes again. Luffy is too busy laughing and whooping at the sleigh ride, and Nami and Usopp are too busy screaming to do anything else.

Your heart pounds and even though you’re hurtling through a winter wonderland on a sled balancing on a single rope, you only have eyes for your sword.

Your sword. HA.

It’s Roger’s.

“Show me again!” Luffy demands, yanking on your arm like an insistent puppy. The Cherry Blossom Kingdom is barely even out of sight but Luffy’s already on to the next exciting thing.

You raise your hand, curl your fingers into a fist, and summon your Armament. Luffy’s eyes narrow as a small gust of wind washes over the deck, studying your hand carefully to see the invisible thing he knows is there.

It’s not just the intensity on his face that you recognize. There’s something sharp in his eyes, someone who lives and breathes fighting who’s just found a new obstacle to overcome.

Just to give him a fair chance, you say, “Dodge.”

Then you bring your Haki-covered fist down on his head.

“OWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

Luffy doesn’t roll around on the ground for long before he hops up and shouts, “Do it again!”

“OW!!!!”

“What are you idiots doing down there?!” Nami shouts and it’s beyond wonderful to hear her annoyed voice so much closer to her usual volume.

“She’s teaching me pocky!” Luffy yells to her.

“Haki.”

“Yeah, that!”

“Do me next,” Zoro commands, crossing his arms over his chest as he comes to stand next to his captain. You smile sweetly at him.

“AGH!” Zoro shouts, nursing the egg on his head.

“Usopp, you want in on this?” you call up to the crow’s nest, letting your Haki dissipate and flexing your fingers.

“Not a chance!” Usopp calls back down. You turn to the last person standing on deck and smile.

“QUAAAAAAACK!!!!!!” Karoo panics, sprinting away as fast as his ducky feet can carry him.

“Noooooo, Karoo, I’m sorry!” you call after him frantically. You would never ever use Haki on him, you were just going to ask if he wanted a snack!

“Quack!!!”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I swear!”

“I didn’t know food could taste so good!” Chopper cries joyfully, leaning back in his chair and sighing in complete contentment as he rubs his full belly. You savor the last bite of your dinner—a stir-fry with hand-pulled noodles and melt-in-your-mouth tender meat and perfectly crunchy vegetables in a spicy sauce so good that you can’t even come up with a fitting metaphor to describe it—and let out a matching sigh.

Sanji beams.

“Glad you liked it, Chopper!” he smiles warmly at his new crewmember and newest culinary fan. 

“You really outdid yourself,” Vivi adds and that sets Sanji off on his love-cook fawning. He deserves it, he really went above and beyond for dinner. You and Usopp have been trading off cooking responsibilities since leaving the Cherry Blossom Kingdom and the two of you are actually pretty decent cooks; leagues better than Luffy and Zoro in any case, and Vivi offered to help but all the recipes she knows are variations of boiled mush. But Chopper finally cleared Sanji from medical rest and he celebrated his recovery by cooking up a storm. 

Rubbery arms sweep across the table and then Luffy shovels the remains of dinner into his mouth. With a mighty gulp, the entirety disappears down his gullet and he lets out an enormous belch and then an even bigger, “Ahhhhhhhhh” of pure bliss.

There’s a moment of quiet as you and all the Straw Hats relax in the post-dinner haze of an unbelievably good meal. Like all quiet spells on the Going Merry, it doesn’t last long.

Zoro clears his throat. You blink open an eye curiously. Everyone is looking at Luffy.

You also look over at Luffy, who is still slumped over, sleepy now that he’s been fed. (But give it five minutes). Luffy doesn’t move.

“Ahem,” Zoro clears his throat again, kicking Luffy under the table. Luffy raises his head and looks at Zoro cluelessly.

“Wha—”

Zoro gives him a look. Luffy tilts his head. Nami gives him a matching look, like he’s really supposed to know what Zoro’s talking about, and a quick glance around reveals that everyone is looking at Luffy the same way. Except Sanji, who you’re just realizing has already cleared the plates away and is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh!” Luffy brightens suddenly, perking up in that impossible way where you’d never know he was half-asleep just seconds ago. He leans forward excitedly and beams at you. “Close your eyes!”

Your eyebrows go shooting up to your forehead.

“I don’t think so.”

You know better than that.

“Just do it!” Luffy demands.

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?!”

“Because the last time someone told me to close my eyes like that, I ended up with a tarantula in my hand,” you shoot back. And sure, that was more than thirty years ago, but you are never ever making that mistake again.

“But you have to for the cake!”

Cake?

“Luffy!!!!!” the entire crew snaps at once.

Luffy blinks at them in confusion and then throws his head back and laughs, “Whoops! That was a secret!”

Nami lets out an aggrieved sigh and shakes her head.

“Honestly, why’d we even bother telling you?” she mutters.

“Oi, Curlybrow! Luffy blabbed, just bring it out,” Zoro calls.

Sanji emerges from the pantry shaking his head. In his hands, he’s holding a beautifully decorated three-tiered cake that he sets down in front of you with a flourish. Luffy may have spoiled the surprise but the sight of it still makes you gasp.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!” the Straw Hats cheer as you stare in at the cake in awe.

It’s beautiful.

Each layer is decorated with yellow frosting in a complicated diamond pattern that you realize perfectly matches the diamond grip on your sword, and there are little red swirls all across the cake in the exact same color as the ruby charm on your bracelet. Across the top, in the most beautiful, swirly, flouncy handwriting you’ve ever seen, Sanji wrote a happy birthday message addressed to you.

You haven’t seen your name written down in fourteen years. The sight of it in gorgeous cursive topping the most perfect cake in the universe makes your eyes water.

“You guys,” you say, your voice rough as you tear up from the sheer burst of joy.

“We didn’t have a chance to do anything on your actual birthday,” Usopp explains and you now know who’s behind all this, “Sorry it’s a little late!”

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you shake your head, wiping at your eyes.

“Of course we did!” Vivi protests.

“We weren’t sure what flavor you liked,” Nami adds, leaning on Vivi for a little extra support. She grins at you, winking as she taps a finger to her chin, “So we guessed! It’s coconut!”

Coconut.

Is she serious?

The smile on your face stiffens but you force yourself to relax. Okay, yes you hate coconut, but it’s not like they knew that. And it was so sweet of them to make you a cake at all, you don’t actually have to eat it to appreciate—

“She’s just joking!” Sanji swoops in to assure you, “I know you hate coconut! It’s a yellow cake flavored with tangerines, my own recipe. Only the best for you, my love!”

You look at Nami in surprise and she winks at you. Not only are you touched that she would give her precious tangerines for your birthday cake, you’re also besides yourself with relief that she’s feeling well enough to tease you like that. She looks so much healthier that it’s hard to believe how sick she was just a few days ago.

“Those tangerines are your birthday present, so don’t expect anything else from me, got it?”

You laugh along with the rest of the crew.

“Thank you. All of you. This…” you stare down at the cake, the cake they made for you, and your heart pounds with joy inside your ribcage, “This is wonderful. Thank you so much.”

“Of course!” Vivi smiles.

“Quack!” squawks Karoo.

“Hnn.” Zoro huffs (also smiling smugly).

“To many more!” Sanji cheers.

“It was nothing,” Chopper adds, dancing back and forth in his chair.

“LET’S EAT!” Luffy orders.

You’re three days from Alabasta and poor Vivi grows more anxious with every passing day. She’s incredibly relieved that Nami is fully recovered, but without an immediate goal to focus on, all she can do is stare longingly in the direction of the log pose. Vivi does her best to keep her spirits up and pretend to be fine, but you are an expert bullshit detector and her excuses are growing flimsier by the hour.

You’re willing to give her space until that night, when you see that she’s still leaning on the railing, wistful gaze pointed in the same direction with her brows furrowed so deeply you could roll a quarter through the lines on her forehead.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you announce, startling her out of her miserable trance of misery.

“Oh, I’m alright, I’m just going to stay—”

“Nuh-uh. You’ve been out here the whole day, that’s enough. We’re having a girls’ night.”

Vivi blinks at you but you’re already dragging her away from the railing before she can say much in protest.

“Nami!” you call, keeping your grip of Vivi’s wrist just tight enough that she can’t politely excuse herself.

“Yeah?”

“We’re having girls’ night! Can you go get Usopp?”

“Alright!”

“What’s girls’ night?” Luffy asks, popping his head down from the crow’s nest.

“I don’t know,” Vivi shrugs, “I’ve never had one.”

You poke Luffy on the nose.

“We’re going to braid each other’s hair and gossip. Want to come?”

“Nah!”

And just like that, his neck snaps back like a stretchy band and he returns to his shift on watch. That was another surprise. Not only does Luffy take his turn on watch, he’s actually very serious about it. Which is to say that he absolutely gets distracted and falls asleep, but he never misses trouble.

You don’t really have a plan for girls’ night. Normally you’d put music on, but the transponder snail you rescued from Wapol doesn’t have the equipment to play music, and even if it did there aren’t any transponder discs on board. You’ll just have to make do without music.

Snacks are non-negotiable though.

You swing through the kitchen, dragging Vivi behind you, and Sanji is only too happy to provide you with a few bottles of soda (and a bottle of wine for Nami) while he whips up a batch of popcorn so fast you can’t believe he didn’t already have it made.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you say as he hands over the bowl. Still warm. And the smell is next-level, one bite confirms that he’s ruined everyone else’s popcorn for you forever.

“Anything for my lovely ladies!!!!” he swoons, legs wobbly and hearts in his eyes.

“I can help you clean up, if you like,” Vivi offers. Before you even have a chance to protest the blatant attempt to avoid relaxing, Sanji is already assuring her that there’s hardly anything to clean up and he’d much rather she goes and enjoys the food.

Luffy’s head bursts through the door of the cabin.

“SANJI! I SMELL FOOD!”

“Yeah, yeah, get back up there. I’m bringing your snack up now,” Sanji shakes his head. You nudge Vivi.

“Girl’s night.”

Vivi sighs, but she knows when to give in, and she gives you a small smile.

“Girl’s night,” she agrees.

Usopp and Nami are already waiting in the girls’ cabin when you arrive with Vivi and the snacks. Sanji’s popcorn is an immediate hit with Usopp and Nami is only too happy to pour herself a glass of wine. You settle in next to Usopp while Vivi joins Nami on her bed.

“So, uh,” Usopp starts around a mouthful of popcorn as everyone gets comfortable, “How does girls’ night usually work? I’ve never been to one before.”

“Don’t look at me,” Nami shrugs.

“Me either,” Vivi admits again before looking at you, “What do you usually do?”

“Well, there’s no one right way to do girls’ night. With my sisters, we mostly braid each other’s hair and gossip. And drink a ridiculous amount of wine.”

“Got that covered!” Nami cheers, raising her glass.

“I’m not sure we’ll have much to gossip about though,” Vivi says.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a fairly small ship,” Vivi explains, “I don’t imagine there’s much going on that we don’t already know about.”

Ohhhhh. She has no idea what you meant by gossip.

“Didn’t people gossip on Whiskey Peak?” you ask curiously. Vivi blinks.

“Of course, it was essential. Igaram and I had to stay ahead of any backstabbing attempts.”

You nod because that makes perfect sense, and then you shake your head.

“Yeah, that’s not even remotely what I meant by gossip,” you explain. Usopp and Vivi just stare at you while Nami snickers behind her hand.

“Well, what did you mean?” Usopp asks. You lean back on your hands and raise your eyebrows at him.

“I meant talking about the fun stuff. Like… what’s your type?”

“Our type?” Vivi asks, about as confused as you’ve ever seen her.

“Sorry, let me rephrase,” you say, before flopping over onto your stomach on the bed and kicking your legs in the air and putting your chin in your hands, “Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Vivi blushes furiously red. Think tomato red. Then throw that out and think fire hydrant red. Then throw all of that out and imagine the very concept of the color red in all of its glory, and then dial that all the way up to eleven. You didn’t even think it was possible for someone to blush so hard. Nami throws her head back and laughs harder than you’ve ever seen her and that just makes Vivi blush even harder (literally how?????) as she buries her face in her hands.

“N… no!” Vivi protests, shaking her head back and forth where she’s still attempting to hide it. Nami, still giggling, leans over her and starts walking her fingers along Vivi’s bare shoulder.

“Areeeeee you sure about that?” Nami teases, “Kind of seems like you mii-iiiight.”

“No I don’t!” Vivi lies and you don’t need your Haki to figure that one out. You flip over and slide to the edge of the bed, leaning in close.

“Come on! It’s just us girls! And Usopp!”

Usopp lets out a little eep.

“What’s his name?” Nami pressed, her arm fully wrapping around Vivi’s shoulder.

“Rebellious type?” you add, trying to think of everything you remember about… Koza? You’re pretty sure that’s his name, “Bold, brash, stubborn, stands up for what they believe in?”

Vivi exhales through her nose and you know you’re close when she gives a tiny nod. The grin on your face only gets wider.

“Sounds like a great catch,” Nami compliments, “I’m getting a little jealous!”

Vivi’s face twitches and an expression flashes across her face before you can see what it is.

Hang on!

Hang on a second!

You definitely saw that just now!!!! Wait a damn second!!!

Vivi isn’t talking about Koza!!!!!!

You’re staring but you can’t help it. Now that you know what you’re looking at, you can see if clear as day.

Actually, you feel like an idiot because Nami’s practically draped across Vivi’s lap with her hands clasped around the back of her neck, you’re a moron for not seeing it sooner.

“What do you like about him?” Usopp asks and you’re proud of him for getting in the spirit even if you almost lose it over the fact that he’s still as oblivious as you were a few moments ago.

Vivi—her face lit up like a stoplight—valiantly struggles her way through the question, describing all of Nami’s best qualities and a few of the qualities that you never thought of as romantically endearing (her fiery temper and aggressively single-minded focus when it comes to her map drawing), all while Nami sits in her lap and teases her about her answers. It’s very impressive.

But she somehow makes it through all the questioning until Nami finally loses it at how red Vivi’s face is.

“Enough about me!” Vivi protests quickly, seizing the opportunity to pass the hot seat on and putting her palm over Nami’s face because she’s still laughing. She scans the room and locks onto her next target, “What about you? You must have your eye on someone, right?”

“Well that’s easy,” Usopp says boldly, “There’s only ever been one lady for me, and that’s Merry!”

“And Kaya,” Nami coughs.

Usopp’s face flushes, from the bottom of his chin all the way up his hairline, then all the way out to the end of his nose and the tips of his ears. You and Nami collapse over each other as you both double over laughing.

“It’s not that funny!” Vivi protests, coming in vain to Usopp’s defense.

Usopp’s turn is just as funny as Vivi’s, even if it doesn’t come with any groundshaking revelations. It’s honestly just really sweet. Usopp really cares about Kaya and he’s nervous that she’ll never see him the same way.

He’s a good sport about the whole thing, anyway. But eventually his face is just as flushed as Vivi’s was and Nami—in a rare show of empathy—switches the attention off him.

“Well, that’s enough about Usopp. We want to know about you!” Nami purrs sweetly.

“Yeah! You must have someone in your life, you’re like a decade older than us!” Usopp adds, relieved that his turn is over.

You do a spit take on your soda, a little because it’s funny that your disguise has held up that well, but mostly because the timing is perfect to spray Usopp in the face. He splutters and jerks back, a little bit soaked, but then he just looks down and sighs.

“Should’ve expected that,” he mutters, attempting to wipe his shirt clean.

Nami leans forward with an evil gleam in her eyes now that you’ve shown weakness, “So???? Come on, tell us everything!”

“Well…” you start, and then trail off a click your tongue anticlimactically, “I wish, but it’s just me. Honestly, it’s really not in the cards right now.”

“Booo!” Nami and Usopp jeer in unison. Vivi waves them off and leans into the pillow in her arms.

“You’ve traveled a lot, haven’t you?”

You nod.

Vivi grins wickedly, and you’re starting to see what makes her and Nami such a good pair. God they’re so cute, how did you possibly miss that before?

“Don’t think, just answer. Hottest person you’ve ever met!” Vivi demands. Your response is instantaneous.

“Shanks,” you answer immediately… maybe a little bit too fast. It takes you a second to realize what you just said and your face suddenly feels a little warm. “Which is actually extremely unfortunate for me.”

“Like Luffy’s Shanks?” Nami asks, her brow wrinkled in confusion as she tries to picture him.

You grimace, your lips pulling back to show all your teeth, and nod very reluctantly.

“Seriously?” Usopp asks dubiously, “Isn’t he like, forty?”

“Thirty-seven,” you correct immediately.

“You just knew that off the top of your head?” Nami’s eyebrows rise all the way up to her hairline.

“You must really like him!” Vivi teases and you hop up, making a T with your arms.

“Okay, no, time out! Yes, it’s funny and you can tease me all you want but under no circumstances can you ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, Ever, Ever Ever Ever EVER!!!! Ever tell him that. Ever.”

You pause.

“Ever.”

“Tell him?”

“You mean tell Shanks?”

“Yes.”

“When would we tell Shanks?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! You cannot, not EVER!”

Three identical disbelieving stares meet your eyes.

“Promise!” you insist, “Just trust me, you don’t even want to know why, just promise!”

“That, I believe,” Usopp mutters. But all three of them promise.

“So what is your type?” Nami asks curiously.

You grab another soda and pop it open it you consider the question. The honest answer that you can’t say is “someone from the real world.” But as long as you’re still here (still dreaming) you might as well come up with something.

“I guess I don’t really have one type,” you say as you briefly ruminate on the common themes between your past exes and situationships, “I like different things in guys and girls, you know?”

“Oh yeah,” Nami agrees immediately. Vivi blushes again and Usopp blinks at you, tilting his head to look at you in a new light before shrugging and moving past the revelation.

“I like musicians,” you shrug, “I think just competency in general? Good hair, don’t know why but that’s important. I’ve had some really bad dates with bald dudes.”

Like really bad. The very worst and third worst dates of your life were with bald guys.

Nami snickers.

“Other than that, I think just… older people? Not like old, old, but more mature, you know?”

You think back to the best situationship you’ve ever had. It was back in grad school with an adjunct professor in another department. He was forty-two to your twenty-five, and he was hands-down the nicest guy you ever dated. Of course, then he had to go back to Armenia and you had to pass your qualifying exams so that didn’t last long.

Shame.

Maybe you’ll look him up someday when you figure out how to wake up.

“Like Shanks?” Vivi teases. You grin as your blush returns a little.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Shanks,” Nami mutters as she shakes her head in disbelief, “Every time I think you can’t top yourself—”

“Hang on a second, don’t think we forgot about you,” you flick your fingers at her, “What’s your type?”

When the Straw Hats fish Bon Clay out of the water, you take one look and make an immediate tactical decision to bolt. You head straight for the storage rooms in the Merry’s hull, making sure to be completely out of sight by the time Mr. 2 gets his bearings back after nearly drowning. You’re glad they saved him, obviously, Bon Clay can’t save Luffy’s life in Impel Down if he dies here, but there are very few things that would be more dangerous than letting him copy your face.

Oden’s flashback fills your mouth with ash, and your stomach turns over on itself at the thought of someone using your face to trick your family the way the Kurozumi tricked Oden that Momonosuke’s life was in danger.

There’s a loud thump outside. You’re on steering duty and you shift the helm control to your other hand to exchange looks with Sanji, who’s busy slicing long strips of carrots as he prepares lunch.

“What do you think that was?”

Sanji shrugs.

“No idea. Doesn’t sound like the idiot captain, so it could be anything.”

“I want to go check it out,” you tell him, “Would you take the helm for me, please?”

Hearts flood Sanji’s eyes and he cries, “But of course, dear sweet—”

“Thank you!” you call as you head for the door. The Going Merry is pretty quiet right now; Luffy is sprawled out over Usopp with his fingers curled into Karoo’s feathers and they’re all fast asleep on top of Chopper, who’s in his ridiculously fluffy Guard Point form. As soon as your shift is over, the spot next to Luffy has your name on it. There’s a clinking sound of the other side of the deck as Zoro swings around a hilariously large set of weights; you give him a wide berth because even though his control is great, you do not want to get whacked by that thing.

None of your friends were disturbed by the thump, which turns out to be a pile of newspapers strewn across the Merry’s deck. A caw pulls your attention overhead and you look straight up to see the smug little News Coo settled on the mast.

“You’re back!” you smile, waving happily. The Coo flaps his wings and stares down at you intently. “I have the letter! And more jerky, just give me two seconds to go grab them, okay?”

The bird bobs his head and you head straight for the girls’ cabin. Nami is drawing a map at her desk, while Vivi distractedly flips through a book.

“What was that sound before?” Vivi asks as she sets her book down; she wasn’t really reading it anyways.

“The newspaper just got here. The News Coo brought a lot of copies,” you tell her as you rummage through your bag and pull out the sealed envelope and container full of dried jerky, “I’ve got a letter for him.”

You head back for the deck and to your complete lack of surprise, Vivi follows you. She’s been obsessed with the paper lately, starving for any news of the situation in Alabasta. While she grabs one of the newspapers off the deck, you hold your letter up in the air.

“Got it right here!” you call up, and after a second of judgement, the bird flies down to the deck and allows you to stick the letter into his messenger bag. Confident that it’s secure, you give the bird your most serious look. “And you’ll give it right to Morgans?”

The Coo squawks, and it’s both agreement and outrage that you doubted him.

“I’m sorry, this is just really important. But there’s no one I trust more than you, okay?”

Your bird friend nips gently at your fingers and you stroke the feathers along his back, grateful that you’ve been forgiven. He’s a temperamental bird, but he’s also a professional and you can’t help but like his prickly and arrogant attitude.

With your free hand, you flip off the lid of the jerky.

“This is all for you,” you tell him, holding out the full tin that Sanji kindly prepared for you. You weren’t sure when the bird would be back so you had to be ready to bribe him. The News Coo snaps up a good beakful of jerky and flies off. With the letter for Morgans.

You heave a sigh of relief.

That’s one thing handled.

“How awful!” Vivi exclaims and the moment of relief shatters. There’s loud muttering and a crash as her shout wakes up the crew and summons them all to her side.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, crossing the deck to join the huddle. Luffy is still on the ground, contorted into a ridiculous pretzel that can’t be comfortable even if he is made out of rubber. But everyone else—Usopp, Chopper, Zoro, and even Nami—are all huddled around Vivi and the newspaper. “Is it about Alabasta?”

“No, it’s…” Vivi starts, but she trails off in her distress, her face twisting with worry, “Whitebeard’s daughter is missing!”

If you were drinking something, you would have done the world’s most impressive spit take. Fortunately, you aren’t, so you’re able to turn your shock into a significantly more subtle coughing fit.

It’s not so much the fact that the newspapers are announcing your disappearance—that was inevitable. It’s the way Vivi’s concern floods your Observation Haki. As far as she knows, Edward Alexandria is a complete stranger and yet her compassion for an innocent little girl (pffft, yeah right) in danger is so overwhelming that you’re choking on it.

“Are you okay?” Chopper asks, his little brow furrowed in concern. You nod, waving him off with a strained smile.

“Totally fine, doctor. Just got something caught in my throat, that’s all.”

“Okay!” Chopper accepts the answer at face value, but Usopp doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure?” He’s looking at you a little too closely and your heart rate is starting to speed up. In all honesty, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if the Strawhats find out who you are. But it will make everything much more complicated and risky and you’d really prefer not to have to play damage control. “You seem like you’re a little—"

“Hey, who’s white bird?” Luffy steamrolls over Usopp as he stares down at the newspaper, and like all of his shining moments of clarity, his finger is digging deep into his ear. In unison, all the Strawhats turn to stare at him.

“Are you kidding?!” Nami demands.

“About what?” Luffy asks cluelessly.

“Whitebeard,” Usopp repeats. Luffy shrugs.

“The Strongest Man in the World?” Zoro tries.

“Commands a pirate fleet of over five thousand men?” Sanji adds, and he must have secured the whipstaff because you didn’t feel the Merry drift at all when he came to join you on deck.

Luffy makes the “I dunno” sound.

“They say he has the power to destroy the world,” Chopper says, his eyes shining in wonder and terror as he gestures with his little hooves.

“Not that he would,” you toss in, because you’re in too deep now and if your cover is going to be blown, you might as well have some fun with it. When everyone turns to look at you—what can you say, you know exactly what you’re talking about and it comes across in your tone—you shrug.

“He’s known to be very protective of his territories. Destroying the world wouldn’t be good for them either.”

“Right,” Luffy agrees and it’s clear he’s not listening in the slightest. Big Charlie from It’s Always Sunny energy. God, you miss TV. (You had one episode left of the Residence and not knowing the ending to the murder mystery has been bugging you for fourteen years straight!!!!) (It’s fine, you’re cool, you’re chill, it’s fine.)

“Luffy,” Vivi says in soft exasperation as she tries to get his attention back, “Right now, we’re in the first half of the Grand Line. Despite all of the danger; unpredictable weather, treacherous seas, monstrous sea beasts, dangerous pirate crews, it’s known as Paradise.”

“Paradise, really?” Sanji blows out a cloud of smoke from his lit cigarette and stares at Vivi in disbelief. Vivi nods. “Of course I believe you, Vivi-chan, it’s just hard to understand.”

“I know what you mean, Sanji. But it’s called that because no matter how dangerous this half of the Grand Line is, it seems like Paradise compared to the New World. Unlike Paradise and the Four Blues, it’s too dangerous for the Marines to have much presence in that sea. Instead, it’s ruled by four incredibly strong pirate crews. They’re known as the Four Emperors.”

“Ahuh…” Luffy says. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning against you, practically asleep already. The sight makes you laugh.

You pat his head to feel the comforting straw hat beneath your fingers and tease, “like Red-Haired Shanks.”

In an instant, Luffy is wide awake again.

“Shanks?!”

“Yeah, he’s one of the Four Emperors,” you tell him.

“Wait, like the Shanks that gave you his hat?” Nami demands in shock.

“SHANKS LIKE MY DAD’S CAPTAIN?” Usopp shouts. His jaw is hanging down so far that it’s practically on the deck.

“Depends. Who’s your dad?” you ask breezily, moving your hand under his hat to scrunch your fingers through Luffy’s hair.

“Y… yassop.”

“Your dad is Yasopp?” you demand as if that’s news to you and not something you’ve known since well before you actually met the man in question. Shanks pretty much monopolized your company every time the Red Force came to visit, so even though you don’t know much about the man beyond the fact that he’s a good crewmate and an absolutely pathetic excuse for a father, he’s the only person you’ve ever seen outshoot Izou. Even if you don’t like him for abandoning Usopp and his mom, you can appreciate his skills.

“YOU’VE HEARD OF HIM?!”

“Usopp, he’s one of Red Hair’s commanders! And he’s one of the greatest marksmen in the world.”

Usopp collapses to the deck, foaming at the mouth while his eyes glaze over in shock. He’s muttering to himself and you only catch bits and pieces of the fantastic lies that he’s weaving in his daze. Zoro nudges him with his boot. Usopp twitches.

“He’s fine,” Zoro decides.

“She’s right. The Four Emperors are Red-Haired Shanks, Big Mom, Kaido, and the strongest of them all is Edward Newgate, also known as Whitebeard. He was the greatest rival to the Pirate King Gold Roger, and many people believe that he’ll be the one to find the One Piece and become the King of the Pirates.”

Luffy springs to his feet in outrage.

“NO HE’S NOT!!! I’M GONNA BE THE ONE TO FIND THE ONE PIECE, NOT WHITEBREAD!”

“Whitebeard,” Sanji corrects.

“No, I’m with Luffy. Whitebread is funnier,” you grin, imagining the look on your dad’s face when you call him that someday. You’ve never managed to get him to make his truly annoyed face, but that might be enough to do it. Nami looks at you like you’re insane before dropping her face into her hands.

“There’s two of them!” she mutters in distress. You make a grabbing motion in Luffy’s direction and he plops back down on your leg so you can keep playing with his hair.

“So what’s this about his daughter?” Zoro asks, reaching for the paper. Vivi hands it to him.

You crane your neck to see before realizing that there’s five other copies of it waiting on the deck, so you pick two of them up with your free hand and poke Nami in the arm with them. She raises her head from her hands and accepts one. Maybe you’re being a little too casual about this, but you really aren’t worried. Even if they figure out who you are, Luffy won’t care. After spending so long terrified that a single wrong move would get Teach thrown off the ship and lead to your family’s doom, this is nothing. Absolute worst case, you have to jump overboard and swim until Earl catches up with you.

You unfold the remaining newspaper one-handed just as Vivi launches into her explanation. The front page takes you for a loop; you were expecting an article with a picture, probably somewhere in the middle pages. What you weren’t expecting was a massive front-page spread with the headline in all capital letters.

“THE PRINCESS OF THE SEAS: MISSING OR TAKEN????”

You can’t help the disgusted scoff that grinds its way out of your throat. The Princess of the Seas? Seriously???? The Emperor’s Daughter was a bad enough epithet, but you are not a princess of anything. Aside from the fact that you detest royalty in all its forms—sorry Vivi, but the concept of monarchy can go fuck itself— calling you a princess will only make the World Government want you captured more.

That had better not catch on. Ugh. Oh, and of course Morgans wrote the article himself. If he responds to your letter, you are going to have words for him.

Forcing yourself to stay focused, you tear your eyes away from the headline and onto the picture. You were hoping they reused your bounty picture; it’s old and outdated and it’ll help keep you from being recognized if the world is looking for a child. But of course, your luck isn’t that good.

It’s a full-size picture; you’re in the center, smiling softly up at someone with your hand clasped tightly in his. Your long hair is braided with colorful ribbons (courtesy of Izou) and the flowy pants look like a long skirt. The man holding your hand dwarfs you with his size. The whole thing makes you look sweet and innocent and vulnerable.

Jesus, is Marco really that much bigger than you? So many of your brothers tower over you that you just stopped noticing.

Worst of all, the picture is recent. Your heart skips a beat as you stare at it longer, picking up more details. The stalls in the background are familiar, and even though all of his identifying features are blocked by Marco, those are clearly Ace’s legs peeking out from behind you both. (Trying to give you a moment of privacy)

Your eyes are definitely wet and Marco isn’t just smiling at you—it’s pure relief and adoration and the sight makes your stomach turn.

You had no idea anyone was taking pictures.

Neither did Marco, he wouldn’t have let anyone intrude on such a private moment. Because this was taken right before you and Marco went on the Ferris Wheel, probably the instant after you forgave him for taking your sword away all those months ago.

How the hell did Morgans get this picture???

Okay, focus on the positives. Your hair is cut shorter than Nami’s now, your clothes are totally different, and you weren’t carrying your sword in the picture. Bad news is that if you squint, your bracelet is front and center because it’s right underneath your and Marco’s clasped hands. On the other hand, it is small and blurry.

You can’t look at the picture any longer, so you turn to the actual article. Pieces in the World Economic Journal are usual formal and professional, but this one is different. It’s basically a letter from the man in charge of the news to the readers all across the world.

With a deep breath, you brace yourself and start reading.

Chapter Text

With a deep breath, you brace yourself and start reading.

Loyal readers,

After months without a single sighting of the treasured child rarely seen without the most powerful pirate in the world, this reporter’s suspicions have been confirmed. Edward Alexandria, the fourteen-year-old daughter of the Pirate Emperor Whitebeard, is missing.

It’s currently unclear how long the beloved Pirate Princess has been absent from the Moby Dick, the flagship of the Whitebeard Fleet, as all attempts to contact the crew have been met with silence. Astute readers may have noticed that one week each year, the delivery of the paper undergoes a serious delay. Coincidence? Hardly. Year after year, this paper’s stalwart delivery birds are roped into ferrying messages and parcels to the Moby Dick by the world’s largest pirate fleet just in time for young Alexandria’s birthday. For the last decade, this has occurred at the same time each year without fail and yet this year the pattern was broken without explanation. Readers, this was my first clue. And because I hold no greater duty than to secure for you the truth, I personally took it upon myself to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Immediately, the movement of the Fleet itself became a clue. Normal sailing patterns have been replaced by reports of Whitebeard-allied crews returning to islands unexpectedly and engaging in unprecedented acts of aggression towards other pirate crews. Almost as if the notorious fleet is combing through every last inch of that feared sea. Attempts to reach the legendary crew for comment continue to be met with silence and scorn, a sure sign that they have something to hide. Moreover, the infamous Second Division Commander, Fire Fist Ace, landed at Sabaody Archipelago without explanation several weeks ago.

When reached for comment, the representative from the World Government had this to say: “We are taking the rumors incredibly seriously and have assembled a task force to search for [Alexandria]. Forcing an innocent child into a life of piracy is a despicable crime, and the government is determined to see her retrieved safely. Her bounty for a safe capture, please be sure to emphasize alive and unharmed, has been increased to reflect our commitment to protecting this world’s innocent from dangerous pirates.”

The bounty in question has been increased to two hundred million Berries on the safe delivery of Edward Alexandria to the custody of the Marines.

At this time, little is known surrounding the circumstances of her disappearance. Foul play remains a possibility, although no group has come forward to claim responsibility nor demand a ransom. Her current whereabouts are unknown; more to come as the story unfolds.

Holy shit. Two hundred million Berries?

Nami gasps and her eyes have turned into Berry signs.

“Look at the size of that bounty!” she squeals delightedly. Your eyebrows rise at the same time as Zoro’s.

“You do realize we’re pirates, don’t you?” Zoro points out.

“So?” Nami asks, excitement shining in her greedy eyes.

“So we can’t exactly go turning in anyone for a bounty, can we?”

The glow leaves Nami’s eyes. But only for a second, because then they land on you and she gasps again, reaching out for your wrist and shaking you excitedly by the arm.

“But you could!!!!” she exclaims.

You roll your eyes.

“Nami,” you say plainly, “I don’t care how much money it is. There is no circumstance in which I will be turning anyone over to the Marines for a bounty. Much less the daughter of the most powerful pirate in the world. Besides, you would have to find her first, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t see her anywhere around here.”

It’s true; there’s no mirrors on deck.

“Oh right,” Nami deflates.

“Besides,” Vivi says gently, “Even if we happened to find her, it would be a terrible thing to turn her in to the Marines. The entire Grand Line knows how much Whitebeard loves her.”

You’ve been managing pretty well, but that comment is the one that makes you flinch. Luffy—Luffy—is the only one who gives you a weird look, stretching his head backwards to an impossible angle to blink at you with those too-knowing eyes. You just keep running your fingers through his hair and give him a “what can you do?” smile-plus-shrug combination, accepting the fact that he sees right through you.  

“If anything happens to her, or god forbid, if anyone is stupid enough to actually try and claim the bounty, the Whitebeard Fleet and all of their allies will tear the world apart.”

That is definitely true. Just one more reason not to get caught. Not that you were planning on it anyways, but this certainly raises the stakes. Not just the bounty. The Marines have sent a task force after you, and Ace is already in Paradise.

You already suspected that last part, there was no way Ace wasn’t going to come after you. Not to mention the letter you left Teach.

But it is helpful to know who’s after you. As much as you want to wring Morgans and his stupid bird neck, this article is as much a warning to you as it is breaking news to the rest of the world.

Son of a bitch, is Morgans trying to help you???

Well, once he gets your letter, you’ll have a chance to find out.

Dinner the night before the Going Merry makes port in Alabasta is as wild and chaotic as ever. You take a deep breath. Luffy’s hand seizes the moment of hesitation and the meat on your plate vanishes in an instant.

“This is my last stop with you guys,” you say.

The noise stops dead. All the Straw Hats stare at you in silence.

“Okay,” Luffy says, and then goes back to eating. Well, that’s not exactly right, because that implies he stopped eating in the first place.

“JUST LIKE THAT?!” Nami and Usopp shout in unison, exactly the way they did when you first agreed to tag along with them.

“What?” Luffy asks through a bursting mouthful of mashed potatoes. He swallows the entire thing in a single gulp. “She’s gonna join the crew after she’s done, right? So what’s the problem?”

You sigh again, but there’s a bittersweet smile pulling at your mouth.

“I said you can ask. I told you, no promises.”

“Why do you have to go?” Chopper asks hesitantly, staring up at you with wide eyes. He is so cute it’s unreal.

“I should be able to find a lead on the people I’m looking for. I would love to keep traveling with you all, but I can’t stay.”

“Where will you go next?” Vivi asks curiously. There’s no resentment in her voice, which is good because you really do feel guilty that you’re leaving them to deal with Crocodile and Baroque Works on their own. But you know they’re going to save Alabasta and plus, you did teach them the basics of Haki. They’ll be fine.

“I’m not sure. It depends on which leads I can find.”

You still insist on taking your last watch no matter how hard Sanji tries to insist on taking the shift for you so that you can be well-rested on your last night on the Merry. But you know you won’t be able to sleep much tonight so sitting out under the stars sounds pretty damn good.

As you sit in the crow’s nest, head leaned back against the wood to stare up at the sky, your fingers twist the ruby charm on your bracelet around and fiddle with the intricately braided knots in the cord.

You miss your dad.

When you get home, you are going to be grounded worse than anyone in the history of the universe has ever been grounded before. Maybe you can go to Shanks as a safe haven and refuse to leave the Red Force until your family is willing to negotiate on your punishment.

You snort, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as you twist the twine of your bracelet around in your fingers. Shanks is going to be just as pissed as the rest of your family; you’re going to be the first person in history to be grounded by multiple Emperors.

Maybe Jimbei will take pity on you. He’s the most reasonable ally your dad has, if you explain your decisions rationally, there’s a small chance you’ll be able to convince him that you didn’t lose your mind by stealing a Devil Fruit and sailing the world’s most dangerous ocean by yourself.

Yeah, the Sun Pirates are definitely your best bet.

Something pokes you in the cheek three times in rapid succession and you shove him off, instinctively protesting, “Thatch, stop!”

Luffy blinks at you with big eyes. You blink.

Right.

Not Thatch.

“I’m Luffy,” he corrects.

“I know,” you say.

“Good,” Luffy nods in satisfaction as he plops down next to you, laying himself over your side to rest his chin on your shoulder. It can’t be comfortable for him (except maybe it is since he’s made of rubber), but to you, it’s the biggest relief in the world. Ever since leaving the Moby, you’ve been starving for physical affection; your family constantly showered you in it and Earl, despite all his wonderful qualities, isn’t much of a hugger.

With Luffy, you never even need to ask.

He doesn’t say anything. Your hand snakes up under his hat and runs through his surprisingly soft hair; you always thought it would be crusted with salt and sweat and whatever other gross stuff he gets into, but Luffy is astoundingly good about his personal hygiene. Considering how long it took Izou to blackmail Ace into taking regular showers, you’d bet good Berry on Nami having straightened him out about that. Luffy hums in pure contentment and you laugh at the way he stretches himself out until his entire bodyweight is covering you like a weighted blanket, giving you a better angle to scratch his hair. He’s like a cat.

It's funny.

He’s so similar to Ace in so many ways, but other times, the two of them couldn’t be more different. Luffy’s never hesitated to show his affection and in return, it makes you more confident in showing it the way you like best. Quiet and subtle, like a calm wave that washes over a moon-dark beach at low tide. You don’t have to demand the limelight with him. You don’t need to use it like a distraction or to steer things the way you need. You can just have exactly what you want, simple as that.

“You know I’m really going to miss you guys, right?”

“Of course,” Luffy answers immediately, “You’re our friend.”

Your heart swells even as your chest tightens.

“You know there’s part of me that doesn’t want to go.”

“Mhm.”

Luffy’s eyes are fixed on you and they’re too close but you don’t flinch from them. He doesn’t say anything. Your throat is too choked up to speak and you just watch him.

“You can say it,” Luffy finally says. It’s not like he’s giving you permission, though. It’s like he’s reminding you that you can give yourself permission. The words make the lump in your throat easy to choke down.

With a deep breath, you look down at your bracelet and twist the gem one last time.

“I want to do this by myself,” you acknowledge, letting the truth out for you and him and no one else to hear. Luffy just watches you and it’s clear that you haven’t said a single thing he doesn’t already know. “There are so many people who would do anything to help me if I just ask, including you and the rest of the crew. And if I need it, I won’t hesitate. Like Earl and Crocus and Laboon and you. But this is personal.”

You think of Teach’s smile and the fact that the feelings stirring in your stomach and your chest are too complicated to ever be put into words. In this age of pirates and marines and freedom that’s so far out of reach for so many, dreams are everything.

Who are you to get in the way of that?

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to do this alone.”

Luffy pulls back, putting a hand to the top of his straw hat. The sudden loss of warmth startles you and you blink up at him.

“That’s your dream, isn’t it?” Luffy asks in that voice that’s suddenly too intense.

“Wh…what is?”

You’re genuinely have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Your dream. It’s to protect theirs.”

You blink harder than you’ve ever blinked in your life at the very idea of having such a ridiculous dream. Thoughts come to you unbidden. Your dad’s dream to have a family to call his own and protect. Ace’s dream to create a legacy bigger than Roger’s ever was, to finally find out if he deserves to live. Izou’s dream to one day return to the land of Wano and set it free in Oden’s name.

Teach’s dream.

Luffy’s gaze is suddenly too intense and your head drops. Without meaning to, your eyes wander over to your wrist and the bracelet encircling it. The bracelet you couldn’t take off, the symbol of your dad’s greatest treasure that you’d do everything to protect.

You mouth falls open and the air in your lungs exits.

“Huh,” you say numbly, in the aftershocks of something that should have always been obvious. “I think… it might be.”

A weight settles on your head and your breath catches in your throat before you have a chance to draw any of it in. Luffy’s straw hat is too big for you and falls low over your eyes. But it doesn’t do anything to hide the tears that run down your face or the soft smile from the way your entire being glows with warmth.

“I’m so glad I met you,” you tell him honestly. And you’re glad you raise you head to do it because Luffy beams at you with his signature D-shaped grin and you know he’s going to change the world with it.

Nanohana is a bustling port city with colorful stalls and locals carting around their shopping. In any other situation, you would love nothing more than to explore it. But you don’t have time for that. Without the right clothes to blend in, you stick out like a sore thumb as a visitor.

The rebels are in Katorea. All you have to do now is figure out how to get there.

You wander the market for a little while and enter the first shop you see a group of women emerge from; it’s a perfume shop. The smell is even more pungent inside than it was on the street, which shouldn’t be surprising but you fight back a grimace.

“Ah, a traveler! Welcome to my establishment!” the shopkeeper greets effusively, “We have the very finest perfumes in all the world, made right here in Alabasta! Can I help you find something to your liking?”

You glance around at the bottles and give him a friendly smile fit for a gullible woman traveling on her own.

“I am looking for something, although it’s not perfumes. Can you tell me how to get to Katorea?”

The merchant’s face goes pinched and he draws back. Not for long, soon his eagerness to sell to a wealthy traveler takes the reins again, but you saw it.

“Miss, there’s hardly a need to go all that way when we have their perfumes right here! That’s right, all the perfumes you see were made in Katorea, these are the genuine article! You won’t find any in the world that can match this exceptional quality!”

He’s going to get suspicious if you push it. So you let your eyes widen in mock fascination and pick up a bottle with a pink-colored liquid inside.

“Oh, I didn’t realize! Still… I’ve traveled a very long way for this, I was hoping to buy the famous perfume right where it was made.”

“Well of course!” the merchant seizes on the opening to make a sale, “But you can rest assured that these wares are as local as can be! The factory is not twenty minutes from the gates of Nanohana.”

“The factory in Katorea?” you ask with a bright smile, clutching the bottle like you’ve already decided on buying it.

“Precisely!”

Twenty minutes. That’s enough for now.

“Well, I’m convinced!”

“Excellent! So what will it be?”

You hold out the bottle of pink perfume and you weren’t going to buy it before you saw the exorbitant price tag.

“Would you be able to put this aside for me? I’m planning to do a lot of shopping today and I think it would be easier if I don’t have to carry around a big bottle all day. I’ll come back later to pay for it and pick it up.”

“Of course! Not a problem at all, Miss!”

“Thank you so much!”

You hand over the bottle and smile again as the shopkeeper tucks it behind the register. Yeah, no chance you’re coming back for that.

You continue your information-gather disguised as a shopping spree for a while and find out a bunch of things. The rebel camp is definitely in Katorea, which is about twenty minutes west of the city by camel. Nobody is willing to transport a single tourist to Katorea, but fortunately, they all seem to buy that you’re hoping to see the perfume makers in action and otherwise clueless about the brewing rebellion.

There’s a stall selling something that looks and smells exactly like falafel on pita and you nearly crash into a man carrying a giant pot through the market in your rush to get to it. Not only does it smell amazing but it’s dirt cheap and you haven’t had anything close to it in over a decade.

“Here you are!” the man hands your pita over and adds, “And don’t forget your change!”

“Thank you so much! It smells amazing!”

And it really, really does.

“I have to say, I was a little worried about visiting when I saw the news in the papers, but everyone here has been so kind and welcoming!”

"I'm glad to hear that," the pita man tells you, "We always try to take good care of our visitors! Just... make sure you keep your eyes open while you're here, you see?"

You blink at him innocently.

"Even here?"

The man looks at you for a second too long and confirms everything you were hoping he would.

"Especially here."

Under an awning, between two quiet shops, you settle in against a wall and watch. People watching is an underrated hobby—that goes double in this ridiculous world.

You eat your pita and watch people rush around the market, sorting locals from vendors and everything in between. It might just be a stroke of luck, but it doesn’t take long for you to notice the men wearing full-face coverings ducking out of an alley in a clear attempt to stay unseen. The remainder of your pita disappears quickly as you watch the men load heavy crates into a cart—a camel-pulled cart more than capable of making a twenty-minute trip—and sneak glances every few seconds to make sure they’re not being watched.

They’re… not very good at their jobs. You’ve been watching the whole time.

You wait until you’re finished with your pita and all the crates have been loaded up to cross the market and approach them.

Using the power of a very persuasive argument, you convince the rebels to give you a ride with them to Katorea.

“What do you want.”

“I’m looking for a way to get in touch with the Revolutionary Army,” you explain firmly as you cross your arms over your chest, “I’ll be honest. I have no idea if they’ve contacted you. But with this war that’s brewing, I find it unlikely that they haven’t sent some of their people to investigate. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Koza answers with a single nod, “The Revolutionary Army did send someone. And they left instructions on how to contact them if we changed our minds.”

“I take it you haven’t changed your minds, then.”

“I’m not discussing sensitive matters with an outsider.”

“That’s fair,” you acknowledge.

“Why should I help you? You’re a stranger. You’ve brought no money, no weapons, nothing to aid our cause, and you’re asking for information that’s incredibly valuable. No offense.”

“None taken.”

It’s a fair question. The truth has served you pretty well so far.

“I’m trying to find someone. I have information that I believe he really needs to know, and there are a lot of lives that hang in the balance. Many of them are people I’m trying to protect.”

Koza doesn’t look convinced. So you add, “I’ve been traveling for a while, and I heard something that might interest you. Recently, I ran into someone interesting; it was a woman from Alabasta with long blue hair. She was on the run from an organization of bounty hunters known as Baroque Works. She wouldn’t tell me anything else, but she was trying to get back to Alabasta as soon as possible.”

The tent is silent. The rebels are staring at you, but they have nothing on the way that Koza’s jaw drops.

“Vivi,” he whispers in something halfway between worry and awe. Then he looks you straight in the eye. “You can’t stay here. We have no need for outsiders and our supplies are limited.”

“Fine with me.”

It’s an incredibly productive trip. You return to Nanohana the same way you left it, with a number scribbled down in your notebook. As you’re passing through the market, your eyes catch on a receiver inside one of the few permanent shops and when you head inside the snail emporium, you find a pair of short-range snailies. They’re the snail equivalent to walkie talkies, and they’re not cheap but you’re able to haggle the shopkeeper down by passing along some of Sanji’s recipes for snail food; apparently, they go crazy for red-wine vinegar on romaine lettuce, which was news to both you and the snail vendor. It ends up being a great deal and you’re more than happy to part with the Berries.

You head back to the Going Merry, the snail transponder number coded into your notebook and the pair of dozing snailies in a travel-safe enclosure, trying your best not to get caught up in wistfulness. You’ve got what you needed. It’s time to move on. Traveling with the Straw Hats has been amazing but you’re on a mission. There’s still a Devil Fruit burning a hole at the bottom of your bag.

Sanji is the only one there by the time you make it back; he fawns over you for a little while and then asks what you want for lunch. He’s crushed to hear that you won’t be joining them, but you’re impressed that he accepts your decision and just assures you that you’ll be deeply missed. And then he goes on about how he’ll await the day you return to join the Straw Hats for good and he’ll never again have to suffer the agony of a moment spent without your beauty. You’d think he’s laying it on a little thick except that he actually means it.

What a sweet guy. So weird.

Before you leave the kitchen, you walk to the table where Wapol’s stolen transponder snail is happily munching away on the lettuce and kale salad Sanji made for him. You’re never met a snail who’s so motivated by food before. As much as you wish you could bring him with you, it wouldn’t be fair to him to drag him away from his new paradise. And his shell is already splitting into the yellow and red imitation of Luffy’s hat. He’s meant to be the Straw Hat’s snail, not yours.

Besides, it’s definitely for the best that you can’t be reached during this next part. Every part of your plan is crazier than the last.

You pat the snail one last time and head to the cabin that you’ve been sharing with Nami and Vivi, carefully gathering your scattered belongings and packing them up. The Dark Dark Fruit is still pristine inside its chest, just waiting for a bite to be taken from it. You close the lid and lock it before slipping it into your bag.

By the time you’re done, there are voices outside the cabin and you perk up because that means the rest of the Straw Hats are back and you get to say goodbye before you leave. You hitch your bag over your back, clipping it in place so your hands are free, and look around the room one last time. The Merry is such a wonderful ship.

Remembering the existence of Klaubautermanns, you run your hand along the wall and tell the ship how great she is. The ship doesn’t answer but you aren’t imagining the fond swell of emotion that brushes against your Haki. You probably won’t meet her again; it is sad, but you’re also looking forward to meeting the Thousand Sunny. You hope you get the chance someday.

You reach for the door handle and start pulling it open when you can finally make out the voices.

“So, what are you doing here?” Zoro asks. The voice that answers is instantly familiar and you want to slap yourself for forgetting that he’d be here. And you’re the one trying to keep close to canon!

“Our little sister went missing,” Ace answers and your stomach drops. Ah, shit. “We need to find her so we can bring her home.”

“Little sister?” Luffy asks cluelessly; through the crack in the door, you can see his finger digging around his nose while he talks, “We don’t have a little sister.”

Ace laughs. He shakes his head fondly and you can’t look away. He looks exactly the same except for the deep bags under his eyes and the slight strain to his smile. Your heart twists because you’re the one that did that to him. 

“You don’t have a little sister. I do.”

Predictably, Luffy pouts.

“No fair! If she’s your sister, that makes her my sister too!”

You pull back at his words, stunned by the immediate, selfish claiming of Ace’s family as his own. Luffy wants to be your brother? Not that he knows it’s you, but he won’t care one bit when he finds out you’re the one Ace is looking for.

“I’m sure she’d like that,” Ace says roughly, and your stomach twists because there’s nothing but guilt in his voice, “She always wanted to hear stories about you.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Vivi asks, her hands twisting together in a show of utter compassion that turns your stomach. You’re a horrible person. Ace sighs.

“Unless you happened to see her, I don’t think so.” He pauses, then turns to look at Luffy with hesitant curiosity. “You haven’t, right?”

“No. We did see the article in the paper, but it was just a bunch of speculation,” Nami shakes her head, her usual greed replaced by her much rarer but equally genuine compassion, “What happened to her?”

Ace flinches and he clearly doesn’t want to answer. But finally, his shoulders drop.

“She ran away.”

“Why would she do that?!” Chopper sounds utterly horrified, the idea of running away from a loving family unthinkable to him.

“We think… we think part of it is because of a Devil Fruit. Thatch—one of our other brothers—found this fruit, but before he had a chance to figure out what he wanted to do, Alex took it and ran with no warning.”

“Over a Devil Fruit?”

Ace hesitates.

“Well, that’s just part of it. The thing is...” Ace trails off, clearly unsure how to say it. He doesn’t really want to air your family’s dirty laundry in front of a bunch of strangers. “Alex had been getting frustrated for a while. She wanted to fight and Pops, well… he just wants to keep her safe.”

Luffy frowns.

“If she wants to fight, she should fight,” he says, like it’s just that simple. And you love him even more for it.

“That’s what I thought. But it’s not the same for her as it was for us, Luf, we didn’t have anyone looking out for us. Whitebeard sees all of us as his children, but Alex is different. She’s his daughter, the only one of us that he raised himself, she’s everything to him. All he wants is to keep her safe.”

Luffy’s frown deepens.

“But she wants to fight.”

You get too drawn into the scene down on deck to remember to be careful with the door. And that comes back to bite you instantly when the hinge creaks loudly. You freeze.

On deck, Ace freezes too.

“Luffy?” he asks in an uncharacteristically serious voice, “Is there someone else on board?”

Luffy brightens immediately and says the only thing Luffy could ever be expected to say.

“Yeah!”

And then he tells Ace your name. Ace clearly doesn’t recognize it.

“She’s awesome! She’s really strong and she hits like Gramps does! She’s got some stuff to do first, but she said she’ll join my crew soon!”

Your face flushes at the praise but you have more pressing concerns because there’s a brush of something against your Observation Haki—it’s blunt and clumsy and that’s a whole other set of problems because Ace clearly hasn’t been keeping up his Haki training since you last saw him. Ace stiffens like he just stuck a metal fork into an electrical outlet.

Crap.

You don’t have time to do much because Ace sprints for the stairs leading up to your cabin. You dive for the bed, whipping out the book Crocus gave you and settling in like you’ve been there for hours, making sure to keep your hand over your wrist to hide your bracelet. With a deep breath, you brace yourself to bullshit harder than you ever have in your entire existence.

“ALEX?!” Ace throws open the door so hard it slams into the wall, his chest heaving and his eyes crazed. You jump at the abrupt intrusion (it would be suspicious not to), and recover quickly as you raise your head along with a pointed eyebrow. You push your reading glasses, also a gift from Crocus, up your nose and give Ace an unimpressed glance.

“Can I help you?” you ask calmly, irritation veiled by a thin veneer of politeness.

Ace falters. He looks so baffled that you have to bite your lip to keep your composure.

“Alex, it’s… it’s me, Ace? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You raise your eyebrow even higher and close your book with a gentle snap.

“I have to say, this is not a particularly good first impression,” you admonish, nodding your head at the destroyed section of wall behind the door. Not that it is your first impression of him, but if it was, it definitely wouldn’t be a good one, “First of all, it’s not polite to barge into a woman’s bedroom without permission.”

Ace flinches.

“And second, if you’re looking for someone named Alex, there’s no one by that name here.”

There. You didn’t say a single thing that isn’t true (just a little stretched) and his Haki will confirm that. You just need to confuse him for a little longer.

And boy is he confused. Ace’s mouth drops open and his eyebrows furrow as he stares at you in confusion.

“I… but you… I…” Ace starts. He shakes his head like he’s trying to reset himself and it works enough that he’s able to look you in the eyes again. “Do you have a sister? A younger sister?” He demands.

“I do,” you answer truthfully (Ace’s eyes widen as his Haki confirms the truth yet again), and your heart aches because there is a reason you never let yourself consider the possibility that this has always been real and you’re never going home. There are so many people you can’t bear to leave behind and she’s one of them. “But her name isn’t Alex either.”

Ace’s mouth hangs open. It rises and falls again. You can hear the dial up internet sounds, the pinging and whirring as his brain tries its very hardest to process the information in front of him. It sounds like this: 

That’s when Makino’s manners must kick in because he sweeps his hat off and bows to you.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he recites formally. You laugh; not the childish giggle he’s used to, but a deeper chuckle suited to a woman much older than his kid sister.

“It’s alright,” you say before returning your book to your bag and slinging it over your shoulder once again, “Your timing is convenient. I was waiting for the crew to return to tell them I’ll be moving on.”

Before he can say anything, you sweep out of the room with confidence no fourteen-year-old possesses (carefully keeping the instantly-recognizable hilt of your sword out of view) and head down to the deck.

“You’re leaving?!” Nami pouts, and when you smile sadly, she throws her arms around you. “We’ll miss you so much!”

“It was really so wonderful to get to know you. I can’t thank you enough for everything,” Vivi agrees. You hug them both at the same time. You hope you’ll see Nami again, but the odds of returning to Alabasta are almost nonexistent. You squeeze Vivi a little tighter.

“You’d better be ready next time,” Zoro demands when you shake his hand. His eyes are still on your sword and he looks determined, “I’ll be expecting a hard fight.”

“Of course!”

Chopper latches onto your leg and then he gets embarrassed.

“It’s not like I’m going to miss you or anything, you big jerk!” he snaps when you bend down to rub the fur on top of his head.

“Well, that’s a shame because I’ll miss you a lot. But I can’t wait to tell people I got to meet the greatest doctor in the world!”

“Shut up, jerk! Your compliments don’t make me happy or anything!”

You just laugh. But then Chopper stops dancing around and looks up at you with wide, determined eyes.

“Next time I see you, I’ll have the answer. I swear, I will find a way,” he promises, more solemn than any vow. Your heart seizes at the declaration and you can only nod back at him as hope stirs in the gnawing pit that sits low in your stomach.

(Nobody talked about it with you, but you heard the mutterings all the same. Best case is eight years. If it progresses faster, he’ll be lucky to get three. And if your plans fall apart completely, it won’t matter at all.)

It will take the world’s greatest doctor to pull a miracle.

You take a deep breath.

“Thank you. I won’t ever forget this.”

“Are you really going out there on your own?” Usopp stammers, looking out at the sea with wide and terrified eyes.

“Of course not,” you reassure him, “I’m traveling with a friend; he arrived just a little while ago. But you don’t need to worry about us, we’ll look out for each other. And you? Are you going to be okay?”

Usopp puffs up dramatically.

“Who me? The Great Captain Usopp? Of course I’ll be okay! In fact, I’ll be better than okay! You’re talking to the man who singlehandedly freed an entire nation from a terrifying dictator who had them under his complete control!”

You just stare at him for a second. Obviously you know he’s just making it up, but that exact situation will happen in a few years in Dressrosa. Man, the foreshadowing in this show is just crazy.

You and Sanji already said your goodbyes, so that just leaves Luffy.

“Next time we meet, you’re going to join my crew!” he proclaims, and it’s a statement of fact. You can’t help but laugh.

“Next time we meet, you can ask. No promises though.”

“That’s fine! I already decided.”

You just laugh harder.

“Don’t forget about Haki, okay? It makes all the difference in the New World.”

“Got it! I’ll have it mastered the next time I see you!”

And that, you do believe.

You hug him to round out the set and then shift your bag to check that it’s sealed correctly. The last thing you want is for your stuff to get wet. Ace is still standing on the staircase, clearly afraid to intrude on a personal moment after having committed one social gaffe already, and you wave at him.

“Ace, right?” you ask hesitantly, like you aren’t actually sure. He nods. “Sorry I can’t hang around longer. I’ve got important things to do and being on the sea… it’s so freeing. It just makes me happy. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Ace looks a bit confused but then he nods again and says, “I, uh, definitely get that.”

You smile, warm and a little bit teasing.

“I thought you might,” you move over to the railing to stare out over the open ocean. It’s beautiful. “This might be a little forward, but can I ask you for a favor?”

“Um… depending on what it is, sure?”

Aw, he’s like a lost puppy. So goddamn cute.

You smile as warmly as you can.

“Go home.”

Ace blinks hard. Then again.

“Um, what?”

“Go home. I mean it,” you repeat in a voice that’s pure confidence, that serene smile never leaving your face. The Straw Hats shift in confusion but nobody puts it together until you add, “And when you get there, you can tell dad I’m not coming back.”

The expression of pure shock that crashes over your older brother is nothing short of legendary. You almost feel like you’re watching in slow motion as he jerks backwards, his mouth dropping open as far as it can go and his eyes widening until his irises are surrounded by white. In any other situation, you would revel in the utter pandemonium you’ve created, between Ace’s complete and total reboot and the way six Straw Hats, a princess and a giant duck lose their minds at the reveal, but there is no time for that now.

Ace gets his bearings quickly and the shock transforms into outrage at being tricked. You thought that would take a little longer, but you were prepared for that.

“ALEX!!” he bellows.

“Oh, by the way,” you say, already hopping up onto the railing, “Sabo’s alive.”

With that, you dive into the sea. You’ve always been a good swimmer but after growing up in this world, you’re ready for the Olympics. There’s a wake behind you as you put more and more distance between yourself and the Going Merry, and by the time Ace’s outraged howl of “ALEX!!!!” reaches your ears, you’ve already made it to your friend.

Earl of Sandwich bops you on the head with his snout, then coils his body under you until you’re settled on his back. In the distance, there’s a flicker of orange that seems to be getting bigger and you know that Ace has made it to Striker.

“You ready to set a new record, Earl?” you ask, twisting your hands into his mane. You’ll reattach the makeshift saddle later if he doesn’t bring you back to the small ship— there’s a fifty-fifty chance he ditched it completely as soon as he dropped you at Twin Capes. Either way, you’ll have to get a boat; this is fine for a short trip though. Your sea king friend snorts, giving you a split-second warning to inhale before he dives under the waves.

Chapter Text

The instant that Ace feels the familiar Haki, he’s already sprinting for the door at the top of the stairs. He’d know that presence anywhere. He throws open the door to find his little sister reading a thick book on one of the beds and the rush of emotions at finally finding her has him shouting, “ALEX?!”

Instead of reacting in any of the ways he expects—mostly for her to be pissed at him for tracking her down, or just maybe relieved to see her big brother after months at sea alone?—his little sister just stares at him blankly. She raises a pointed eyebrow at him and there’s not even a tiny bit of recognition on her face.

“Can I help you?”

Her voice is a lot deeper than he remembers. And his little sister has never worn glasses. And her hair isn’t this short (she probably just cut it, though. Right?). And now that he’s looking… her face looks different too. Alex doesn’t have cheekbones like that.

Did she… change what her face looks like? Can she do that?

And why is she looking at Ace like she doesn’t recognize him?

“Alex, it’s… it’s me,” Ace says, and he’s so confused that it almost comes out like a question. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His little sister gives him a strange smile, like she’s humoring a crazy person, and gently closes her book. Ace can see from the title that it’s a medical textbook. And it’s not even the fun kind with lots of awesome gross pictures that Deuce used to trick him into learning first aid (“Actual first aid, Captain, if you try to cover an open wound in leaves again so help me, I will stab you myself”); the pages he saw were just thick blocks of tiny words. 

He blinks. Alex hates medicine. She hates anything to do with it. Marco once tried to teach her the basics of first aid and she ran around the Moby Dick with her hands over her ears, shouting “LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU” at the top of her lungs until he gave up.

“I have to say, this is not a particularly good first impression,” Ace’s sister chastises him. She gestures to the wall behind him and Ace turns to see that he’s made a huge crack in the wood. He flinches. Whoops. There’s no excuse for damaging Luffy’s ship, he’ll have to apologize. “First of all, it’s not polite to barge into a woman’s bedroom without permission. And second, if you’re looking for someone named Alex, there’s no one by that name here.”

All thoughts of property damage fly out of Ace’s head.

She’s serious. Ace blinks, reaching out with his Haki again. It feels like Alex. His Haki isn’t the best, but he knows that it’s supposed to be foolproof. His Haki tells him that Alex is right in front of him, and that means the woman sitting calmly on her bed, looking at him like he’s a complete stranger with a stern expression through a pair of glasses he’s never seen before, wearing muted clothes he’s also never seen, with a face that isn’t quite right, who just honestly told him that he has her name wrong, is Alex.

Alex, his moody teenage sister who yells at anyone who goes into her room without permission, who loves bright colors and patterns, who smiles at him like he hung the moon for her, who hates medicine and doesn’t wear glasses and doesn’t have short hair or a such a straight nose and holy shit of all fucks, is this not Alex?

He remembers suddenly that Luffy introduced her by a different name. Luffy never learns names unless they’re important to him, and he’s never wrong about someone when he’s that confident.

“I… but you… I…” Ace starts, and he’s more confused than he’s ever been in his life. Even if she doesn’t look quite right, she does still kind of look like Alex. “Do you have a sister? A younger sister?”

“I do, but her name isn’t Alex either,” the woman answers. His Haki tells him she’s not lying. His brow furrows and his jaw drops because he’d know if Alex had a little sister, right?

Holy shit.

This isn’t Alex.

He’s just barged into a complete stranger’s room, broke a wall, and started yelling at her like a maniac.

Face burning, he pulls his hat off his head and bows deeply.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he swears. There’s a chuckle that reminds him of the way Makino used to laugh when he and Luffy did something dumb as kids. Ace’s face flushes even worse.

“It’s alright,” the woman smiles kindly, so mature about the misunderstanding that Ace can’t believe he mistook her for his kid sister. She places her book inside a bag Ace has never seen before and fastens it to her back before standing and brushing off her shirt. “Your timing is convenient. I was waiting for the crew to return to tell them I’ll be moving on.”

She strides out of the room, each step confident and measured, and Ace just stands there. That… was embarrassing. Ace is infinitely grateful that none of his division was here to see this; Ace swears that no one will ever know what just happened.

He leaves the room and goes back down the stairs to find the woman saying her goodbyes to Luffy’s crew. He hesitates, trying to stay quietly out of the way because he’s already embarrassed himself enough, and feels like he’s intruding on something just watching.

The Straw Hats clearly adore and admire her. The other women, one with orange and one with blue hair, let her gather them up in a hug before she tells them something they both nod at. She lets the little reindeer cling to her leg, patting his head fondly. She shakes the green-haired swordsman’s hand, and when she smiles at whatever he says, Ace notices the sword at her waist. His eyes narrow.

It looks kind of familiar. Not the scabbard, he’s never seen that before, but the hilt? He’s seen that design somewhere. But then Luffy bounds up to her and blocks Ace’s view and he can hear it from all the way over here as Luffy exclaims that she’ll join his crew next time.

She’ll make a great Straw Hat. Ace can already tell.

The woman pauses before waving at him. Ace blinks, a little confused that’s she’s talking to him.

“Ace, right?” she asks, smiling warmly. He nods out of confusion and an attempt to make up for his earlier rudeness. “Sorry I can’t hang around longer. I’ve got important things to do and being on the sea… it’s so freeing. It just makes me happy. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Ace nods again. It’s not at all what he was expecting her to say, but he does understand the feeling.

“I definitely get that.”

“I thought you might,” she says with a smile that suddenly looks a little out of place. She walks over to the railing on the opposite side from the shore and stares out wistfully. Then she looks back at Ace. “This might be a little forward, but can I ask you for a favor?”

“Um… depending on what it is, sure?”

She smiles. No, that doesn’t do it justice, she beams at him and it hits him with a wave of familiarity and the feeling that he’s missing something.

“Go home.”

Ace blinks hard. Then again.

“Um, what?”

“Go home,” she repeats, and Ace suddenly places where he’s seen that smile as a gaping pit opens in the floor and his stomach drops into sudden free fall, “And when you get there, you can tell dad that I’m not coming back.”

Shock hits him like a brick wall. Ace can’t do anything but stare as his brain reboots. Shock turns into pure, unadulterated outrage because THAT LITTLE SHIT TRICKED HIM?!?!?!

“ALEX!!!” he shouts—but for once, she’s faster than him.

“Oh, by the way,” she climbs onto the railing as Ace charges at her. Then she shatters his whole world. “Sabo’s alive.”

She disappears over the side of the ship as Ace shudders to a complete stop. What the hell did she just say? What does she mean, Sabo is alive?! WHAT?!

Ace forces himself to focus when he realizes that she’s taking full advantage of his shock to swim away from the island as fast as she can. Crap, was she always so fast? Okay, no time for that, focus!

He sprints for the side of the ship and launches himself into the air, landing on Striker and shooting out a jet of flames. He goes hurtling after her, pushing out as much fire as he can. For a few seconds, he lets himself breathe because no matter how good of a swimmer she is, Striker is faster.

And then a massive sea king rises out of the water. Terror grips his heart because if he finally finds her only to watch a sea king devour her, Ace will never forgive himself. But then the sea king tosses her onto its back and she lets out a loud, joy-filled whoop before he dives and Ace discovers that she’s somehow befriended the world’s fastest sea monster. He follows behind them as best as he can, but it’s no use.

They’re gone.

“Dammit!” Ace shouts, unleashing a jet of fire into the air. With no other options, he turns around and heads back to the Going Merry.

“That was her?!” Usopp demands, shaking Ace by the shoulders as soon as he lands back on the deck, “She’s your little sister?!?!?!?!”

Ace pulls away to notice that Sanji is on all fours on the deck with his head hanging low, a dark aura surrounding him.

"Uh… what’s wrong with him?” he asks, too distracted to focus on the bigger problem.

“…she’s fourteeeeeeeeeeeeeeen,” Sanji moans in a voice that sounds like death warmed-over. Ace just stares for a second before realizing that holy SHIT! That’s Ace’s baby sister he was flirting with!!!!

“She’s a tough kid,” Zoro says, crossing his arms over his chest. He seems completely unaffected by everything. “Now I wish I’d got that spar."

“She’s really that young?” Vivi asks, tugging at Ace’s arm with a baffled look on her face. Ace nods numbly. Vivi just shakes her head in confusion. “I… I don’t understand, she seems so much older than us.”

She sounds like she really knows what she’s talking about.

“How long was she travelling with you?” Ace demands.

“She was waiting with Old Man Flower,” Luffy answers and Ace blinks when he figures out who his little brother is talking about.

“You mean Crocus?”

“Yeah, that guy!”

Ace’s eyes widen in shock.

“She got all the way back to Twin Capes?!”

Holy shit, who the hell is this kid? Everything Ace knows about his kid sister suddenly feels like it’s been turned upside down. There hasn’t been a single sighting of her on any of the islands they’ve stopped at, and he honestly thought they were way ahead of her. But she crossed half the Grand Line fast enough to join Luffy at the entrance to Paradise? No, to be freaking waiting for Luffy at the entrance to Paradise?

Something has felt off about this the whole time. Alex has always been stubborn but she’s never done anything like this. They still don’t know why she stole Thatch’s Fruit and ran away, but it’s clear by the way she plowed through the water that she hasn’t eaten it. So why take it?

That’s been bothering Ace ever since he found out she was gone.

She’d been acting weird. After that huge fight with Pops, getting banned from training or leaving the ship unaccompanied, Alex should’ve been furious. Instead, she was pretty much over it the next day. Aside from the fact that she stopped wearing Pops’ mark altogether and barely interacted with him or Marco. But there should’ve been more. If it had been Ace, he would’ve set the ship on fire.

Was this why? Was she planning this? Was that fight what made her decide to leave?

Ace shakes his head.

“Okay. Did she say where she was going?”

The Straw Hats just look at each other and shake their heads.

“She just said she has some things to take care of,” Nami answers, "There were people she was looking for, she thought she could find a lead on them here in Alabasta."

“Do any of you have a picture of her? Or a drawing? I need to let everyone know I found her, we’ll have better luck if everyone can see her disguise.”

Usopp puts his hand up.

“I could, uh, make a sketch if you need?”

Ace opens his mouth to thank him, but before he can, a rubbery hand slaps the sketchbook out of the sniper’s hand.

“No.”

“Luffy!” Ace whirls around to snap at his little brother.

“Usopp, don’t draw her. Captain’s orders.”

“Uh……” Usopp stammers, backing away when Ace steps up to the plate.

“Luffy, quit playing around! Pops has the whole fleet out looking for her, I need to get them a sketch!”

“No.”

“Luffy, this isn’t a game! She’s gotten lucky but she’s going to get hurt! I am not letting her get away!”

“She doesn’t want to go with you!” Luffy shouts angrily, “I don't know what she meant about Sabo and I don't care! All I know is she wants to fight and you guys won’t let her! She just wants to be free!”

Ace reels back at the words which hit him like a slap in the face. Luffy’s right. But that doesn’t change the fact that the Grand Line is a deadly place and she’s all alone.

“We’re her family! It’s our job to protect her!”

“She’s our friend.” Luffy answers. He doesn’t say anything else.

“How’d that lead shake out?” Deuce asks as soon as the mini transponder snail connects.

“What lead?!” Haruta demands in that too-quick snap that means he hasn’t slept enough in days, “You didn’t tell me about a lead!”

“He went to find Luffy,” Deuce tells the assembled Commanders on the Moby.

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Haruta repeats.

“I didn’t even know if he’d be here!” Ace snaps, more shaken than he’s willing to admit to such a big audience.

“It’s alright, son,” Pops interrupts, his voice soothing but also firm enough to shut the brewing argument down. It’s also a reminder of the awful confession Ace has to make, of the fact that the little sister they’ve all been desperately searching for just slipped out of his grasp and it’s all Ace’s fault.

Ace swallows. His heartbeat is too loud and his face is burning with embarrassment—she was right there and he fell for the oldest trick in the book and if anything happens to her, it’s all his fault.

“I need to talk to Pops alone.”

“Ace…” Deuce starts.

“I said alone!”

“Ace, come on, how are we supposed to—” another member of his division protests.

“That’s an order from your Commander!” Ace snaps, cutting him off much more harshly than he deserves. But he can’t help it, he feels like the entire world has been flipped inside out and when his emotions get like this it’s just asking for another narcolepsy episode to hit him and he can’t risk that right now. He needs his father. And he needs him now.

“Alright, we’ll step out,” Deuce finally agrees, “But don’t think we’re not talking about this later, Commander.”

Ace hears the sound of footsteps over the snail and a door closes.

“So what’s going on—”

“Just Pops.”

“No.” Haruta refuses. And Ace loves his brother but his hands are trembling and he can’t—

“You’ll go, yoi,” Marco steps in before Ace has to say anything and he’s never been so grateful to anyone in his life. In a tone that leaves zero room for argument, he tells the other Commanders, “All of you.”

The snail fixes him with a half-lidded stare that somehow looks straight through him, even an entire ocean away.

“Ace, whatever you want is fine. But you’re clearly upset and I’d like to understand why. Is it alright if I stay on while you talk to Pops?”

Ace swallows but the First Mate’s level tone is a lifeline against the turbulent emotions and he grabs on as tight as he can.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, yoi.”

The mini snail suddenly shifts as a crescent mustache blooms on its face. His father’s eyes are sad but kind.

“What happened, my son?”

Ace swallows again and it feels like rocks are weighing down his stomach.

“She got away.”

The snail’s eyes sharpen and Ace can feel the full weight of his father’s gaze as he sits on Alabasta’s shore, watching Striker bob up and down from where it’s anchored to a large rock.

“You found her?” Marco breathes. Ace can picture the way his eyes widen with shock, “Where?! You said you went to see Luffy?”

“She was traveling with him. It’s all my fault, she was right there and I—I’m so sorry, Pops, this is all my fault, I—”

“Start at the beginning,” Pops orders, cutting Ace off before he has a chance to apologize again. Ace takes a deep breath and explains everything. The vivre card pointing nearly straight towards Reverse Mountain, how there hadn’t been a single sighting of her on any island, the frustration and the confusion and the nagging fear that she’d switched out the card, the doubling back, the racing forward; Pops and Marco listen quietly despite the fact that they’ve heard all of this before in previous calls.

“…but the next time, after that pirate attack, they weren’t calling it Drum anymore. They said it was the Cherry Blossom Kingdom now, and everyone was talking about how the Straw Hat pirates ran out the old king and I got excited when they said Luffy was heading to Alabasta. So I figured, we weren’t making any progress anyway so it wouldn’t hurt.”

“So you went to Alabasta,” Pops finishes.

“Without telling anyone.”

“I told Deuce!” Ace protests.

“It’s alright, Ace,” Marco sighs, “Did you at least find him?”

Ace has a brief flashback to the moment when his idiot little brother crashed through a Marine Captain, him, and a dozen walls, in that order. He can’t help the smile on his face despite everything.

“Yeah. He’s got a great crew and a good ship, turns out they’re traveling with the princess. No idea how he found her, I thought she went missing forever ago.”

“Ace, yoi,” Marco prompts gently.

“What?” Ace asks.

Despite the fact that there’s no way to see it over the mini transponder, Ace can tell that Pops and Marco exchange an exasperated look.

“What??” he demands.

“Alexandria?”

Instantly, Ace’s face flushes bright red and he splutters a little bit because he really got so caught up thinking about Luffy that he forgot that he still hasn’t told them the worst of it.

“Um…” Ace starts, and his freckled cheeks are on fire. Maybe even literally, he can’t even tell anymore, “So… turns out, she met Luffy at Twin Capes. Apparently… apparently she was living with the lighthouse keeper there. And his whale.”

Marco makes a sound that Ace has literally never heard from him before.

“Crocus?!?!?! She was with THAT old bastard?!???” Marco demands in absolute shock, “How the hell did she even get there?!”

 “She’s got a Sea King. It’s a big-ass snake, sort of looks like a donkey from far away,” Ace adds, recalling its long, upright ears and distinctive mane, “I have no idea where she found it, but I’ve never seen one that fast before.”

“It’s a homing mule,” the transponder says in Pops' voice, “They’re incredibly rare; not only are they among the fastest breed of sea kings, their bodies are able to store magnetic memory.”

“Uh…”

“Their bodies have built-in Eternal Poses,” Marco simplifies, “How big was it? The smaller ones have a much more limited range.”

Ace grimaces.

“Huge.”

Marco exhales sharply.

“I shouldn’t be surprised at this point,” Pops gravels, his voice heavy with exhaustion. But despite that, there’s an undercurrent of pride. Ace’s brain tries its hardest to put the dots together and the picture starts to come into focus.

“So… she doesn’t even need a log pose or a map to travel,” Ace realizes slowly as dread creeps in, “She could be literally anywhere.”

“Exactly, yoi.”

“But I still have her vivre card!” Ace protests, pulling off his hat and reaching into the band, “It doesn’t change…”

His voice cuts out abruptly. There’s a long pause.

“Son?”

Ace gulps.

“Ace, yoi.”

Ace swallows again.

“Yeah, Marco?”

There’s no reason for the fact that his voice is suddenly very pinched.

“Why did you stop talking?”

“Um…”

“Ace.”

Ace’s fingers dig frantically around his hat but the only cards are labeled with other names or far to big to be the invaluable piece of his little sister’s card.

“I had it—I swear I had it! I had it last time I talked to Deuce, you can ask him!” Ace says frantically, pulling out every single piece and nearly losing Marco’s card to a sudden gust of wind. He grabs all the papers and shoves them back in his hat.

“Fuck,” Marco swears.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Marco, Pops, I swear, it was an accident—”

“Ace, yoi. Were you close enough to her at any point that she could have touched your hat without you seeing?”

Ace thinks of how she’d brushed past him as she left the women’s cabin, patting him on the… patting him on the back. Where his hat hung around the back of his neck. Slowly and with dawning horror, Ace nods.

“She took all of ours, yoi. She must have taken yours too.”

“I… I didn’t even…”

“It’s alright, my son,” Pops interrupts. Even over the snail, he doesn’t look mad, but Ace knows that’s going to change when he finds out how stupid Ace had been. “What exactly happened in Alabasta?”

Ace swallows for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s not even his fault, even sitting right by the water, Alabasta is as dry as a dessert.

“Like I told you, I found Luffy at a restaurant in Nanohana. There was a Marine Captain chasing him, nasty logia-type named Smoker. I stepped in to handle it, but it turns out, Luffy learned some Haki. Barely needed me at all.

“Anyways, we went back to his ship and he introduced me to all his crew. We were just talking, and then they wanted to know about what I was doing there and what happened to Alex and then I felt her. So I chased the feeling and—”

“You found her?”

“I…” Ace trails off, his face ablaze, “I found… someone.”

Neither his father or brother say anything, both waiting for him to keep going.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say, Haki is never wrong and I should’ve trusted myself but… the way she looked at me… she tricked me, okay? I’m the idiot! But she changed everything, her hair, her voice, her clothes, her glasses, her face, her… she was reading a medical textbook! Marco, a medical textbook!”

Even Pops looks surprised at that.

“And it’s not just the disguise, it was… my Haki isn’t the best, but I can still tell when people are lying. And everything she said was true, even when she told me all she wanted was for me to go home and tell you that she’s never coming back!”

Silence reins after Ace finishes.

“Andrea…”

Pops’ voice is quieter than Ace has ever heard it, and the name comes out so wounded that it makes Ace's chest tighten painfully.

He doesn't think he was supposed to hear that.

“Pops, I… I know I messed up, but I didn’t want to believe it was her,” Ace admits slowly, “I didn’t want to believe it could be her because that would mean… that would mean we came all this way and she doesn’t even want us to find to her. I saw her with Luffy’s crew, they love her. Everything they said about her, it was like… she’s their role model. She saved their asses on Little Garden, she beat an entire crew of Devil Fruit users without even breaking a sweat. I just… what if she doesn’t need us?”

The eyes that land on him are piercing, even through the transponder snail. But Ace can’t shake the nagging fear that’s been eating away at him all this time.

“Her strength does not make the Grand Line any less perilous,” Pops warns, “I don’t blame you for believing her trickery. But that doesn't make it any less imperative to find her.”

“Well maybe… maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t really her! There’s a fruit that can copy the appearance of anyone it touches, right? Maybe she ran into whoever has it! And they copied her!”

“Ace… I think you know how unlikely that is.”

“It can’t be her!”

“Son—”

“It can’t have been her!”

“Why not?” Pops asks quietly.

“Because she looked me in the eyes and said her name wasn’t Alex!!!” Ace practically hollers into the snail.

There’s a long pause before Marco sighs. Ace can’t figure out every emotion that’s in there but the sound is heavy and exhausted and almost the tiniest bit pitying.

“Ace, yoi…” Marco says slowly like every word hurts him, “Her name is Alexandria.”

Ace chokes on his own tongue. He can feel stars exploding in front of his eyes and every time he thinks he’s caught his bearings another one goes off.

He finally splutters out, “THAT COUNTS?!?!?!?!”

Marco sighs again and Ace is getting really damn sick of the sound.

“Haki isn’t an exact thing. There’s ways around everything if you’re determined enough,” Marco explains tiredly, “And I don’t mean this to be harsh, but her Observation is stronger than yours, Ace.”

“I… but…”

Ace tries to get his thoughts together but he just can’t do it. Pops finally clears his throat.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“She said something else,” Ace forces out, “She… I… before… she said—”

“Breathe, son.”

With Pops’ help, Ace eventually manages to choke some air down.

“She said Sabo’s alive.”

“Your brother, Sabo?”

“She was lying, right? Or… or… or talking about a different Sabo, maybe that’s how she sounded like… like she was telling the truth. She can’t actually… he’s not... he’s dead!”

This time, the silence lasts.

“…right?”

A heavy sigh.

“I don’t know, yoi. Ace, I’m so sorry, I really don’t.”

“Pops?”

“I don’t have the answers for you, my son,” Pops apologizes wearily, “But it’s clear that there’s too many things that are still unknown to us. For now… I think it would be for the best that you return to the ship. We have a plan and we will find her.”

Ace closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, exhaling a plume of fire as he exhales. Part of him wants to protest, to take Striker and chase the wake that the massive sea king had left behind, to not stop chasing until his little sister is safely in his grasp and he can demand answers to the gaping questions she’d left him with.

But the rest of him knows that whatever game Alex was playing, she’s so far ahead that he’ll only end up eating her dust. He just hopes she knows what she’s doing.

“Okay.”

Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack, quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack. Quack Quack Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack! (Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.)

Quack quack, Quack quack quack quack quack … quack. Quack quack quack? Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack quack! Quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack?!?!?! Quack quack quack-quack-quack Quack quack quack?!?!?!

Quack quack quack quack quack! Quack, quack quack Quack Quack! Quack quack Quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack Quack! Quack quack quack quack quack quack!!!!!

Quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack quack quack quack quack-quack-quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack - quack-quack-quack quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack Quack quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack quack quack/quack quack quack quack.

Quack quack quack quack quack. Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack quack. Quack quack quack quack quack quack!!!! Quack quack quack quack quack quack!

Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack. Quack Quack quack quack!!!!

(I took the liberty of asking Chopper to translate.)

Karoo knows a thing or two about surprises. Hell, back home, he’s the expert in them. No Supersonic Duck has ever outdone him on a surprise party. In fact, he was planning a surprise party for Vivi before this whole mess started, and he’s been working on it ever since. When this is all over and that jerkwad pirate crocodile gets what’s coming to him, he’s going to throw Vivi the greatest surprise party that Alabasta has ever seen! (That thought has gotten him through a lot of cold nights.)

Point is, Karoo is good at surprises… usually. But this one? This is a surprise that not even Karoo knows how to handle! The smart little sword lady, who always feeds him the most delicious fish jerky, helps groom his feathers, drags his precious Vivi away from the railing when she won’t stop despairing over the fate of their beloved kingdom, who sails the seas with knowledge and experience that even the most seasoned sailors would covet, she’s the little girl in the big crinkle papers?!?!?! The scary white-face-hair Emperor’s missing daughter?!?!?!

Karoo is a supersonic duck! No, he’s the Supersonic Duck! He’s their Captain, he’s supposed to pick up on dangerous surprises to keep his squad safe, and this pirate ship and these strange pirates have been his squad while they look after his Vivi! And he missed this surprise completely!!!!!

Honestly, he doesn’t know what this all means. He can see that rubber-stretchy-captain is frozen where he’s usually all running around and crazy, and that fire-smoke-orange-hat pirate is shocked and furious, his poor Vivi is stunned and worried, and all the other pirates are in various states of panic. Little sword lady/girl is long gone.

Karoo hopes she’ll be safe. Things won’t be the same without her fish jerky. Or her. She better not get herself killed!!!! Karoo won’t forgive her for that!

But he’s pretty sure he knows what he has to do now. His Vivi needs him!!!!

Elsewhere...

You pay to use the owner’s snail at the little inn you stop at a few days after leaving Alabasta.

When the call connects, a woman’s voice that you don’t recognize says, “Corduroy’s Shipping and Parcels; You Name It, We ship it. You’ve reached our customer support line and we deeply appreciate your business. Do you have your order number handy?”

You smile.

“I don’t actually have one,” you apologize, “But I’m trying to find someone that I think might work for you. Do you know a guy named Sabo? He’s got blond hair and wears a top hat and goggles and maybe he’s got a pipe?”

The woman laughs kindly, clearly confused but not rude about it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone like that! I think you might have the wrong number.”

“Oh. I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“It’s not a problem at all! Would you mind if I ask why you’re looking for him? We don’t get many wrong number calls, I’m a little curious.”

You pause. The clock on the wall across from you ticks away and you count the beats until it’s been long enough for your hesitation to seem convincing.

“Well… it’s just…” you trail off, well aware that you have her full attention, and then you say, “I think he might be my older brother.”

There’s silence on the other end. The snail stares at you with wide eyes, all pretense abandoned as the Revolutionary tries to process what you just said.

“Can you hold for a minute?”

Chapter Text

“I don’t recognize you,” Sabo states. There’s no apology or tact in it, it’s just a fact. You nod.

“I didn’t think you would. We’ve never met before.”

Hack blinks and Koala’s eyebrows rise; you would’ve recognized them even if they hadn’t introduced themselves to you when you arrived. Sabo leans forward and narrows his eyes at you. You hold his gaze and let him look as long as he wants. You’ve spent the time since you first contacted the Revolutionaries trying to figure out what you’re going to say, and your best bet is to let them lead the conversation. You’ve also spent the time following a set of very complicated instructions to this hotel room on a completely different island from where you started where the three Revolutionaries appeared without warning. The good news is that Earl took you right back to the little ship you bought after leaving the Red Port. He took extremely good care of it, including keeping it supplied with food for you. So your first very unpleasant but mostly endearing task was to throw a small mountain of rotting fish corpses off the ship and do your best to clean the deck. Not easy. There’s still a lot of dried blood in between the planks.

You’re aware that you don’t smell great, but the Revolutionaries kindly have not commented on it.

“You said you thought I might be your brother, but we’ve never met? I’m not sure I can believe that,” he says. He’s right to be suspicious. You’d never have figured it out if you didn’t already know.

“Well, you’re not my brother. You’re my brother’s brother.” you remember suddenly that Luffy claimed you as his sister as soon as he found out Ace had one and correct, “My brothers’ brother. Two of them. I mean, two of my brothers are also your brother. Ers.”

The Revolutionaries exchange looks. It’s a strange enough story that they might believe you’re telling the truth. Or that you at least believe you are.

“What did you say your name was again?” Koala asks suspiciously.

“I didn’t,” you answer.

Ooof. The Revolutionaries do not like that response. You hold your hands up before the hostile looks can turn into hostile action.

“I know that sounds bad but I just… I’m not really sure who I am right now. And I know that makes me sound crazy but—"

“Why do you think I’m their brother?”

You blink, and then seize the way out that Sabo is giving you.

“Well, because your name is Sabo and you have a top hat and goggles and a pipe and you dress like a nobleman. And Ace always told me stories about his brother Sabo who also had all that stuff so when I heard about someone like that with the Revolutionaries, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Ace is your brother?” Koala asks, “The one you think is Sabo’s brother?”

You nod.

“Well he’s definitely a Sabo’s brother. I’m just not sure if this Sabo is his Sabo. He thinks his Sabo died on Goa.”

Sabo’s head jerks up.

“Goa?”

You nod.

The energy of the room changes completely with that one word. Before, they were only here to assess a potential threat in the form of a possibly delusional woman who contacted them out of the blue. But that word… that place…

“It’s the island he grew up on in the East Blue.”

The Revolutionaries look at each other before looking back at you with much sharper eyes. Even if they don’t believe you, it’s a secret known only to a select few in the Revolutionary Army that Dragon fished Sabo out of the waters of the Goa Kingdom.

 “What happened to him?”

“To Ace’s Sabo?”

Sabo nods. You frown, the corners of your lips pulling down sharply. Even though you know he survived, since he’s alive and standing right in front of you, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still a horrible story and the people you love are still hurting from it.

“He wanted to be a pirate so he sailed away. But Ace says Dogra saw his boat get blown up by a Celestial Dragon.”

Sabo inhales sharply. His hand rises up to touch the scar on his face.

“What else did he tell you?”

“Sabo’s parents were nobles, and he ran away when he was five to go live in the slums outside the city. See, there was this trash heap called Gray Terminal, it was where all the scraps and trash from the city got dumped. Ace was living in the woods with bandits, but he would go to the Terminal looking for junk to sell and fights to get into. That’s where he met his Sabo…”

You have a captive audience that listens in rapt attention as you tell them all about the Sabo the runaway, pulling together stories that Ace told you with details you only know from the anime (Ace definitely didn’t remember the fact that Sabo had a nobleman’s medallion to get them into those ramen restaurants; knowing your big brother, the only thing he remembered was the anticipation of all the ramen he could eat and Luffy kicking him in the face as the three of them balanced under a trench coat). Koala and Hack are definitely listening, but it’s clear they’re growing more and more worried as their attention drifts from your stories to Sabo’s face. Sabo, whose terrifyingly intense stare has not budged from you since the moment you said the word Goa.

“—and then three of you shared sake, so that no matter where you went, you’d always be brothers.”

Sabo—staring at you in complete silence with unsettlingly intense eyes— makes a choked sound as his fingers dig into the tablecloth. His eyes are too wide and also narrowed and you can’t tell if he’s looking at you or seeing something else entirely. He looks like he’s about to be sick.

“Sabo?!” Koala puts her hand on his arm. He jumps at the contact.

“I… I don’t…”

Without warning, he doubles over and grabs at his hair, a guttural growl shoving its way through clenched teeth.

Koala and Hack jump into motion, Hack supporting Sabo’s arms as Koala gently brushes his hair away from his face and mutters quietly to him. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds roughly because even from here, you can see that he’s in agony, his eyes screwed together so tightly you half expect them to start dripping blood.

Oh… he really looks like he’s about to pass out for three days.

But whatever his friends are doing seems to help, because the stiffness in his back slowly loosens and his frantic breathing settles into longer, more controlled breaths.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, afraid to do anything to set him off even further.

“Ace….Luffy…” Sabo breathes. His head snaps up and the intensity in his eyes makes you jerk back. “Where are they?!”

“They’re both fine! I mean it! Luffy’s in Alabasta with his crew and Ace is on his way to Fishman Island,” you can’t help the way your own breathing speeds up and you raise your hands in a gesture that you hope looks comforting. “They’re okay. You can just take your time, alright? You don’t have to force anything.”

“Just breathe, Sabo, okay?” Koala rubs his arms while Hack puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a quiet count to focus on. You twist your hands together while you watch Sabo try to pull himself together because you really have no idea if this will work and you’re going to feel a little bad if you’re the reason he goes into a three-day coma.

It takes a while. You do your best to stay quiet and Sabo’s breathing finally evens out.

“Sabo?” Hack asks.

“I’m okay,” Sabo hisses, one hand still pressed to his temple, “I…it’s all fuzzy, but…”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Ace. Luffy. But it’s not all there, it’s still…” he trails off.

“It’s probably better if it comes back slowly,” you offer when it’s clear he’s not going to keep going. Sabo takes a deep breath and accepts the glass of water that Hack holds out for him. He takes a long sip and then wipes his mouth. He exhales shakily.

“Portgas. That’s his name. Portgas D Ace.”

You nod slowly. Koala frowns.

“You mean Fire Fist? Fire Fist Ace, the Whitebeard Commander? He’s your brother?”

“Whitebeard…” Sabo’s eyes widen and suddenly all his attention is on you despite his glassy stare, “You’re Whitebeard’s daughter.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Aw crap.

(Although they’re the Revolutionaries, you knew there was a chance that they’d figure you out.)

“What?!” Koala nearly shrieks.

“I think you’re right!” Hack gasps.

Your hands curl into fists.

“I was.”

Hack’s face twists in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I just… I don’t know if that’s who I am now.”

The Revolutionaries are quiet, but you can see understanding reflecting in all of their eyes. Sabo’s hand is still clenched into a tight fist on the table, but even with the headache that must be wreaking havoc inside his head, his focus stays on you. Koala’s eyes flit back and forth between the two of you, but they must come to some consensus because she leans forward and gently puts a hand on yours. Her palm is warm and shockingly soft and you can’t understand why, but the touch alone makes you feel safer.

Less alone.

“Did something happen with Whitebeard to make you leave?”

“No! Nothing happened, Dad is… he didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing happened. It’s just…” you trail off. Should you tell them the truth? It was always a terrible idea going into a meeting with the Revolutionary Army without a plan but you weren’t even sure you’d be able to convince Sabo at all—in the show, it took a devastating emotional blow for him to regain his memories, you had no way to know if secondhand stories would be enough. But you just wanted to—

Beyond the fact that you’re doing everything you can that might help save Ace’s life, Sabo is… Ace isn’t just a fictional character that you’re emotionally attached to anymore. Ace is your brother. Ace is your big brother and you love him so much and Luffy is your friend and maybe your brother too now and Sabo means so much to both of them. You’ll do anything it takes to bring someone they love back to them.

So you swallow the lump in your throat and take the deepest breath you can.

“Something was going to happen. My brother, Thatch, he found a Devil Fruit. And there’s a man on the crew that… nobody would believe what he was going to do. He’d been with the crew for so long, they all think he’s family but they don’t know what he’s really like. Then Thatch had the fruit and I knew what Teach was going to do and I… I took it.”

“What did you do with it?”

“It’s somewhere safe,” you answer, “I know what I’m going to do with it, I just… I’m not sure it’s the right choice but I think it’s the best option out of a lot of bad ones.”

“And after you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

Koala frowns.

“Would you go back? To Whitebeard?” Hack asks.

You flinch. As much as you miss your family, you can’t go back until Blackbeard makes his move. And even then… look, you’ll go back eventually, you’re not staying away forever… but you’re finally you again. You like being Edward Alexandria, you really do, but she’s not all you are.

“I… don’t know. Part of me wants to, you have no idea how much I miss them, but… dad’s not gonna let me out of his sight after this. He already wasn’t gonna let me… If I go back now, nothing’s going to change.”

“He’s a little overprotective, huh?”

A little snort escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

“You could say that.”

Sabo’s been quiet for a while but you know better than to assume he’s not listening.

“You know,” he says with a strange edge in his voice that makes your heart beat a little faster; it sounds like trouble.

You’ve always loved trouble.

“The Revolutionaries could always use new recruits. Plus it’ll give me a chance to get to know my little sister.”

You blush. Koala and Hack laugh, but it’s clear all three of them mean it.

“I’ll think about it.”

You still prefer the idea of pirate over Revolutionary, but there’s no reason you can’t be both. Still, there’s something you have to do first. Something terrifying that you can’t put off any longer.

Koala hums, staring at you quizzically.

“How much Berry do you have?” she asks bluntly. Your grimace says it all; you still have some, but you’re going to have to find a way to get more. Stealing is an absolute last resort—you cannot risk getting caught that way. You’ve also considered taking a page from Robin’s book and hunting small bounties. You’re more than strong enough to do it, but you just can’t shake the fear that dramatic irony will screw you over and you’ll get recognized while trying to turn someone else in. Besides, you hate the Marines.

You could always find work for a few days in any of the towns you’ve stopped at. It won’t be particularly good money—or interesting work—but you could always wash dishes or wait tables. Not that staying in one place for too long is good idea.

“I thought so,” she nods, before reaching inside Sabo’s coat and pulling something from one of the inner pockets; Sabo groans and presses his face against the wood but he doesn’t protest. She crosses the room again and holds it out. “Here.”

It’s a stack of Berries. A big stack. At least a hundred thousand, if not more. Your eyes widen and you step back as you shake your head.

“That’s really nice of you, but I can’t take that.”

“You can, and you’re going to.”

“Koala—”

She cuts you off by pinching your lips shut between three fingers.

“You’re taking it.”

“Mrlycndooftha,” you protest, the words garbled with your mouth half-closed.

“Yes, you can.”

“Sabo’s not in any position to say it,” Hack adds as he pats Sabo on the back, and you hate the way his brows are pinched together as his hands dig into his hair. He has it under control for now but remembering seems really unpleasant, “But we owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude for helping him regain a piece of his past, let alone memories lost for a decade.”

“Look, Alexandria—”

“Just Alex.”

“Alex. There’s a lot of people after you. And I’m not trying to be overprotective but I really hate the idea that you’re traveling alone on the Grand Line.”

“I’m not alone,” you shake your head, “I made friends with a Sea King, he scares just about everything off. And he’s my navigator. I would never have made it here without him.”

Koala’s face twists.

“I also traveled with a crew for a little while, too. I only left them behind a little while ago, I haven’t been on my own that long. This isn’t permanent.”

Hack lets out a very unconvinced noise.

“Do you have any paper?” he asks. You nod and reach into your bag for your notebook and a pen before passing them both over. Hack scribbles something on the first blank page and hands it back to you. It’s a new transponder snail number.

“If you need help for any reason, and I mean any reason, promise you’ll call us.”

That, you can do. The Revolutionary Army is just about the safest hiding place you can possibly imagine, and you’ll be able to train, keep up to date, and get to know Sabo and the other Revolutionaries, all while lying low.

“I promise.”

Earl tows your little ship as close as he can get, and then you lower a lifeboat and row your way to a hidden inlet near the shore. Earl, seemingly unaware of the idea of stealth, swims curiously behind you like your own personal entourage. The good news is, this inlet is really well hidden so your Observation confirms that nobody’s spotted you. Or your enormous best friend. You shake your head fondly as Earl finds a nice spot on the gravelly beach to, well, beach himself,  and you secure your boat as he uses the coarse rocks to scratch his scales. He ignores you when you wave goodbye and you’re not offended because how could you compete with a good rocky beach? With your Navigator entertained and your boat tucked amid tall rocks, you check your disguise one last time and head towards the woods. The island is a collection of mountain-sized boulders with a town straight out of a Western tucked in their shadows, and the people seem pretty friendly, if a little surprised to see you wandering up from the shore instead of the main port.

Once you get into town, it doesn’t take very long to find a restaurant. You brush the dirt off your clothes and head through the swinging doors. There’s a small crowd inside, locals scattered around the tables and a small number of sailors (merchants, not pirates or marines) at some of the booths in the back opposite the man playing ragtime on the piano. There’s a bunch of open seats at the bar, and that’s where you go.

“Welcome to my humble establishment, ma’am. Name’s Clifton,” the owner greets you with a thick twang to his voice as he wipes off the bar with a wet rag. For a second, you feel like you’re in the Old West and that’s kind of awesome. “We don’t get many new out-of-towners, what can I do you for?”

“Lunch would be great,” you answer. He gestures at one of the open stools and you sit down. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, we only got one thing, and lucky you, you just ordered it,” he winks at you as he nods his head at the chalkboard on the wall behind him. You laugh when you see it; it reads, “Today’s menu: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner.”

“That makes it easy!”

“Sure does.”

You chat with Clifton while you wait and he tells you all about the place; it’s been in the family for generations and he’s hoping his son is going to take an interest in running it. Unfortunately, it seems like he’s got his heart set on becoming a traveling musician—which your new friend begrudgingly admits isn’t the worst plan, apparently Clifton Junior has a lot of talent.

“What about your daughter?” you ask as you dig into Lunch. It’s some kind of gamey stew with fluffy cornbread on the side and a pile of roasted green beans and it’s actually pretty good. It’s not Sanji’s cooking, but you’d happily order it again. It didn’t take you long to realize that the waitress bustling around the restaurant and laughing with the regulars was related to the owner. He also proudly pointed her out less than thirty seconds after you got to talking.

“Sylvia? What about her?”

You shrug.

“Does she want to take it over?”

“Well, no she—” Clifton starts. Then he pauses, and his brows furrow and his mouth just kind of hangs open. Then he puts his hands on his hips and goes, “Huh.”

“Hey Syl!” He calls loudly over the noise of the piano player, who you’ve pieced together through your powers of deduction and also reading the name plate is Clifton Junior. He really is good. “C’mere a sec!”

“Sure Pa,” Sylvia comes over and knocks on the bar, “What’s up?”

“You wouldn’t want ta run this place someday, wouldya?”

“Sure.”

Clifton blinks.

“You would?”

“Sure.”

“Well… that’s swell.”

“Sure is. That it?”

“Yep,” Clifton nods. Sylvia smiles, nods at you as she takes your empty glass, and heads back to the restaurant.

Well, that was easy.

“Well…” Clifton says, shaking his head in disbelief that it was that easy. You’re impressed; your dad could learn a thing or two from him about changing his mind. He calls your name and you look up from Lunch to see him wringing his hands. “I can’t rightly thank you enough, I feel like a damn fool for not figurin that one out sooner. Lunch is on me, alright?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might able to do something else for me.”

“Sure, whad’ya need?”

“I’m looking for someone. He might’ve already been here.”

“What’s he look like?”

You do your best to describe him, or who he might have been looking for, and Clifton thinks hard but shakes his head.

“Okay, that’s good actually,” you say, reaching into your bag for the travel enclosure. You pull out one of the snailies and hold it up for him to see, “I’m pretty sure he’ll come in here when he arrives, would you be able to hold onto this little guy and give me a call when he gets here?”

“I don’t see why not,” he agrees, taking the snailie-talkie, “Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly. Can you keep a secret?”

Clifton leans in close and whispers, “Missy, a feller’d have better luck shooin’ a possum from a root cellar than pryin’ anything outta these flaps.”

You love this guy, he’s adorable.

“He’s a potential buyer, and the truth is, I don’t trust him. I need to make sure he came alone.”

Clifton’s face darkens a bit and he nods.

“I know the boys down by the docks, I’ll make sure they’re keeping an eye on things.”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“Listen here, missy, in this town, we look out for our own. You’re good people, I can tell. You sure this feller is the kind you want to be doing business with?”

You don’t say anything to that and whatever he sees on his face is enough to make him nod firmly and pat the back of your hand.

“I’ll give you a call when he shows.”

Earl is napping in the shallow waters when you get back, and he’s delighted by the leftovers you brought him. Guess giant Sea Kings like Lunch too.

You have to assume you’re being followed so staying in one place is not an option. (And Ace won’t stay away forever, but you know your big brother well enough to know that he’ll need to regroup with your family in person after you looked him in the eyes and told him you were happy on your own and didn’t want to come back. If you’re lucky, he’ll go all the way back to the New World. If the Whitebeards meet him sooner… well, you were planning to stay on the move anyway.) That’s part of why you chose it as the meeting point; there’s a number of islands that are close by, and between the eternal poses and the maps you borrowed from the Moby—okay, you took them (and misplaced a bunch of other things to throw them off the scent), but you’ll apologize and give them back when you get home—plus Earl’s sense of direction, you’ll be able to navigate around this stretch of the Grand Line and back.

All the pieces are in motion; all there’s left to do is lie low and wait.

Ugh.

For all your plans and backups and backup backup plans, there’s one thing you forgot to account for.

Traveling in circles by yourself is BORING.

You lean over the side of your little ship and let your chin rest against the railing. Earl bobs up and down as he slithers through the water, pulling you along at an easy clip. His Haki presence is relaxed and perfectly content to keep swimming for hours. At this rate, you’ll be at the next island in a few days. Which is good, because islands have other people to talk to and you are as bored and lonely as you’ve ever been. It’s so bad that you’re actively looking forward to being grounded.

Being safe and protected at home, surrounded by your family that will be falling over themselves to spend time with you, knowing that you’ve done everything you could to keep them alive.

You’re that bored.

Also you’re going crazy with how much you miss your family, you have absolutely zero regrets about tricking Ace like that and swimming off (and you will never forget the face he made so long as you draw breath), but it hurts that he was right there and you couldn’t just throw your arms around him the way you wanted to.

But you don’t want to think about that right now. You’re already bored, you don’t need to be bored and miserable.

“Usopp,” you whine into thin air, “I’m boooooooooooooored!”

Usopp isn’t here, so he doesn’t immediately perk up and launch into one of his fantastical stories that has maybe a fraction of an ounce of truth to it. But you like to imagine that somewhere out there— on the Going Merry that should be well on its way to Skypeia by now if the newspaper that you got on Stokes Point Ridge Island announcing Crocodile’s arrest is right— Usopp just sneezed.

Usopp looks up at the Gates of Heaven in awe. The sign welcoming them to God’s Land Skypeia bring a tickle to his nose.

“Achoo!”

You miss the Straw Hats. There’s nothing fun about sailing around on your own. Earl is the greatest friend you’ve ever made but you can’t exactly talk to him while he’s pulling your ship along.

It sucks that you’re missing out on so many amazing adventures—the Knock-Up Stream sounds better than any rollercoaster in existence and you just know the City of Gold is even more amazing in person. But the whole point of this is to make sure that Ace and the Straw Hats are far, far away.

At least you’ve been to Water 7 before. That’s definitely for the best that you’re not going to be there for that arc. You have no interest in testing your disguise against the likes of CP9 and the idea of the Straw Hats having to rescue you along with Robin and Franky is frankly unappealing. Franky-ly unappealing. Heh.

God you’re bored.

Maybe you’ll be able to meet up with them again on Sabaody. You’ll have to go that way anyway to get back to the New World, there’s a chance the timing will work out. Assuming everything goes smoothly between now and then anyway.

“’Scuse me,” a gruff voice interrupts as a shadow falls over your table. Shopping didn’t take very long at all since you stocked up on everything at Stokes Point Ridge, and so after you brought your things back to the ship (not much, just some more sword polish and a couple of books that aren’t your single medical textbook), you turned around and trekked all the way back across the island. The restaurant is a step up from a dive (but not too big a step) and the food is fine, but most importantly, there’s lots of other people around. You are so sick of being by yourself, having the background noise of actual human beings is totally worth the risk of being around a small crowd. “I hope you don’t find me rude, but I hate to see a pretty dame sitting by her lonesome. How about I buy you a drink?”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and laugh because this is utterly ridiculous. But at least you know your disguise works (which is good because it’s a pain to apply all the makeup every single day); the contour sharpening your cheekbones and jawline hide the roundness in your face and even though your hair is starting to grow a little too long, it still cuts off sharply just above your shoulders.

One thing is for sure, you do not look fourteen.

You smile up and him and say, “Only if it’s water.”

“You don’t drink?” the man asks curiously around the cigar in his mouth. He gestures a hand at the empty chair next to you and you nod your head at him. He pulls the chair out and sits down like he owns the place.

“Not this early in the day.”

“Well, maybe I can interest you in something else.”

You raise your eyebrows in polite interest, but there’s no reason not to see where this is going to go because your Observation Haki is being quiet and there’s no single person in the restaurant strong enough to give you any problems. Including your new acquaintance. Besides, the last few weeks have been boring beyond anything you imagined your life in a fictional world could ever be and you’re dying for something interesting to happen.

You better not have just jinxed yourself thinking that.

(You totally just jinxed yourself, who are you kidding?)

The man reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a bottle and a pair of glasses in a move that defies logic; his suit is not nearly big enough to conceal all of that.

You raise your eyebrows and tease, “You just happened to have that on you? Convenient.”

“I’m a man who believes in being prepared,” your new companion answers easily. He sets the glasses down and shows you the bottle. You don’t recognize the brand and the liquid inside is a pale pink that reminds you of guava juice—something you’re pretty sure doesn’t exist in this world. “This is a favorite of mine from back home, just juice, nothin’ extra. I think you’ll like it.”

He cracks open the bottle and fills each of the glasses two thirds of the way up. Then he twists the lid back on, places the bottle on the table with a little thud, and hands a glass to you. You accept it with a smile and bring it up to take a whiff.

It smells like sweet citrus, with hints of vanilla and maybe a little cinnamon, and the slight carbonation makes bubbles fizz and pop at the surface.

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” you say. Then you turn around and reach your arm out to gesture at one of the men in a booth behind you.

“Excuse me!” you call sweetly, interrupting their conversation. One of the men gestures at his button-up suit like he’s not sure if you’re talking to him, “Yes, you! What’s your name?”

“Uh… Gable, ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you, Gable. Would you mind coming here for a second, please?”

The men in the booth look at each other, but Gable slowly slides himself out of the seat and makes his way over to you. You ignore your companion and smile warmly.

“Ma’am,” Gable inclines his head, tipping his fedora at you politely.

“You look thirsty, Gable. Care for a sip?”

You hold the glass out to him and his eyes go wide with confusion before flicking over to the man sitting behind you. You keep smiling and hold the drink a little closer.

“I insist.”

“Um, certainly. Thank you,” he says, taking the glass and very carefully taking a sip. His eyes keeping flicking back and forth between you and the man behind you. He straightens and hands you the still-full glass back.

You wait for a second, looking for any sign of his face changing color or his throat closing, but the poor guy just looks confused.

“Well? How is it?”

“Uh, it’s delicious.”

“Feeling poisoned?” you ask bluntly, still in that warm voice. Gable’s face transforms into shock as he figures out that you just used him as a guinea pig and he shakes his head and makes abort motions with his hands.

“No, no ma’am! Of course not!”

You smile and tilt your head at him sweetly.

“Thank you so much, Gable, I really appreciate it.”

“Uh, anytime, ma’am.”

Gable scrambles back to his seat and your turn around to face your companion. You give him the same smile you just gave his underling and take a sip. Citrus explodes across your tongue, sweet and tangy and the flavors are vibrant and it’s absolutely delicious.

“Wow,” you say in genuine amazement, “That is delicious. West Blue?”

“You’re paranoid,” your companion observes, his pride still clearly stinging from the insult, “I’d never stoop so low as to poison a stranger.”

“This is the Grand Line, Captain Bege,” you tell him, “You can’t be too careful.”

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

Maybe it’s not a good idea to introduce yourself to potential rivals for the Pirate Throne, but Bege has already made a very good impression. He’s been polite, respected your boundaries and allowed you to make sure he wasn’t trying anything even if he was a little insulted by it. Also, his whole mobster shtick is really funny to see up close. You’re having a blast.

So you hold out your hand and introduce yourself. Even after spending so much time with Crocus and the Straw Hats, it still feels amazing to tell people your real name.

Bege takes your hand and presses a kiss to it, and your face flushes a little even though you know that’s just his way of being polite. He’s not really your type and he and Chiffon are so cute together—plus you know he’d be incredibly unhappy to discover your “actual” age— but there’s no reason you can’t enjoy the attention.

“So tell me, Captain Bege, what’s your story? How’d you get to the Grand Line?”

Your new companion smiles around his cigar, takes a drink from his own glass, and starts telling you all about his adventures.

Chapter Text

Like most people, Bege is only too happy to talk about himself. And you only vaguely remember his backstory, so you’re curious to hear his story straight from him. Heavily edited, of course. He glosses over a fair number of the bosses he’s betrayed and the gritty details of how he did it, but you’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that they didn’t not deserve it.

Every so often, he refills your glass of juice and you’re honestly a little dazzled by his manners. He reminds you of Sanji.

What are the Straw Hats up to? They’re probably back in Water 7 by now. Even if you weren’t obsessively following the newspaper, it would be impossible to miss the story of how the insane pirate Straw Hat Luffy declared war on the World Government and blew up Enies Lobby.

Good for him. You’re sad you missed it. It would have been so fun to help rescue Robin and destroy the Navy’s untouchable stronghold.  (Assuming CP9 hadn’t also captured you in the process. Yeah, probably for the best you weren’t there.)

“’Scuse me, fadda, can I talk to you for a second?” one of Bege’s men interrupts suddenly. Although he did wait until your new friend paused to cut in.

He leans down to mutter something in Bege’s ear and whatever it is makes his eyes go wide. You can feel Bege’s shock as he stares at you and a range of emotions flash across his face before he stares at you with a new and undeniably sinister light in his eyes.

There’s a flash in your Observation Haki and goosebumps spread up your arms and down your spine.

Hmmm. That’s… definitely a good sign.

“You don’t drink, huh?”

Your fingers reach under the table and curl around the grip of your sword. But you just tilt your head at him and let your eyebrows furrow in polite concern.

“Something wrong, Captain?”

“I’ll give you two choices, Alexandria,” Bege starts.

You look him straight in the eyes and smile sweetly, completely unintimidated.

“That’s not my name, Captain.”

Bege snorts, reaching into his breast pocket.

“You don’t act like any kid I’ve met, I’ll give you that. But my man here is never wrong,” he pulls out his pistol and your heart jumps in your chest as your Observation spikes. You breathe through it, staying nice and calm and still. You can handle this. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You come into my castle, nice and quiet. We’re heading towards Sabaody, it won’t be long until we make our way to the New World. I’ve been angling to take an Emperor’s head. Why not start with Whitebeard?”

You raise an eyebrow, letting them all see how unimpressed you are. You bullshitted your way out with Ace five inches from your face and he’s your favorite brother who knows your Haki signature and has your vivre card. There’s no chance that Bege Capone of all people is going to make you blink.

“It’s a great plan,” you say dryly, taking another sip from your glass. The juice really is good and you have no intentions of wasting something that’s not even poisoned or drugged, “Can’t imagine anything going wrong with it, except maybe the fact that I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

“Option two,” Bege says coldly. Eh, it was worth a shot, “This gets messy and you end up in a whole world of pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and drain the glass. With a click, you set it down on the table and lean forward.

“I don’t think so, Captain Bege,” you smile calmly, “If you won’t believe me when I tell you that you’re mistaking me for a child, then maybe you’ll listen when I promise you that this won’t go down the way you think it will.”

“Ten seconds,” Bege tells you around his cigar, chambering a bullet, “I don’t like the idea of hurtin’ a kid, but I don’t let opportunities that fall into my lap go to waste.”

You let out a big sigh, shrugging at him in exasperation.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” you shake your head.

Bege levels his gun at you and scowls.

“Get up.”

“Alright,” you raise your palms at him in a gesture of surrender, easily rising to your feet. You glance at the barrel of the gun and then back up at him, “But I’d like a formal apology when you realize you’ve made a mistake, in the form of cash. Say, a hundred thousand Berries?”

It’s not a question. But it does make Bege’s eyes narrow and the confidence in your voice (this is all a misunderstanding and you’ll be on your merry way soon enough with a tidy sum of money in your pocket) is enough to give him the first hint of doubt. His concentration shifts from capturing you to staring at your face.

The table catches him squarely in the chin, the Haki powering your kick sending him rocketing up to the ceiling. You waste no time drawing your sword and slashing out with a wave of power that smashes the bar’s patrons backwards—into booths, tables, walls, more than a few of them crash through the darkened windows and the light that streams into the bar works to your advantage.

You can’t feel bad about the bystanders who got caught in your attack because you’re too busy sprinting for the exit.

The double doors fly off their hinges as you slam through them and it’s not a moment too soon.

“THAT’S THE EMPEROR’S DAUGHTER!!!!” Bege shouts, loud enough that everyone on the crowded street outside the bar can hear, and your Haki sparks with alarm as dozens of pairs of eyes land on you.

Ah…

…fuck.

In every direction, the streets are jam-packed with people and if you had twenty more seconds, you could pull a quick change and disappear into the crowd but Bege and his men are already running after you. Haki coats your hands and you slam them together.

The shockwave knocks a good number of people off their feet and it’s enough of an opening for you to make a mad dash down the main street and turn the corner down the first street you come to.

“THAT’S HER!”

“IN THE GREEN SHIRT!”

“GET HER!”

As you run for your life, you think about every James Bond, Mission: Impossible, and every other ridiculous, campy action movie you’ve ever seen. How they all included the chase scene through the market place that resulted in ridiculous amounts of property damage and inevitably screwed over some poor cabbage merchant. You owe all those filmmakers an apology for making fun of those scenes. There is nothing subtle about the way you charge through the crowded streets with a growing mob chasing after you, and even though you try your best to dodge the various stands and stalls, the shouting is growing louder and louder and it’s impossible for you to lose them.

You turn another corner and—FUCK— you immediately recognize this street, one of the first stops on every island is to figure out where the Marine bases are so you can avoid them.

So much for that, you think to yourself as you go charging past the Marines stationed outside the gate.

“What are you doing?!” one of them tries to grab you, which is a reasonable response to a crazy lady hurtling past the Marine Base like she’s being chased by a rabid boar (which only happened once and it was completely Ace’s fault), but you dodge out of the way.

“Hey! You! Get back here!”

You do not do that.

Instead, you keep running. You are not surprised in the slightest when at least a hundred new Haki presences join the mass of people chasing after you.

Although you do cuss loudly because they aren’t the only ones, more and more hostile presences pop up in every direction in groups of five and ten. Which is the typical size for the patrols wandering around the town.

Crap, crap, crap, the island is littered with Marines.

You’re not even trying to get anywhere at this point, just away.

The only advantage you have is that you’re fast. And small. And powered by adrenaline because you are BEING CHASED BY A MOB.

How the hell were you supposed to know one of Bege’s men has perfect facial recall? That definitely was not in the anime or the manga. Talk about rotten fucking luck.

You sprint around the corner, feet skidding on the dirt as you hurtle past a Mink.

“Garchu!” you shout as you pass him, angling yourself to bump your face against his cheek.

You haven’t been to Zou in a while but the last time you were there, the Mink Tribe went overboard. They really, really love kids and the Whitebeards have been their closest allies for decades and because of that you were Garchu’d and nuzzled to an inch of your life. The reaction is pure instinct; you see a Mink, you greet them.  Your legs don’t slow down for even a second.

“Garchu!” the Mink calls back immediately, all his attention fixed on the produce in his hands.

You duck into an alleyway.

“He… hey wait a second!” the Mink exclaims. You don’t stop but you’re not surprised when he manages to catch up to you. Minks are terrifyingly fast when they want to be, “How did you know that?!”

“Cat Viper taught me,” you answer without slowing down or looking back, “Or maybe it was Pedro?”

You forget who taught you about proper Mink manners first. It wasn’t Dogstorm, he was definitely still asleep when your family arrived.

“You know Master Cat Viper?! And Pedro?!?!?!”

“Yup.”

“How?!”

“Met them on Zou. And all the other Minks that live there,” you add.

“I’m a Mink!” the Mink calls excitedly and that’s endearing enough that you can’t help slowing down just the tiniest bit, even though you’re still running for your life and your family’s life and your entire future of not being kidnapped by pirates or Marines or other various bounty hunters, mercenaries and ne’er-do-wells on the island.

“I assumed.”

“I’m Bepo!”

“Nice to meet you!” you keep running.

“Why are you running?” Bepo asks as he scrambles after you. He’s surprisingly agile for his big size.

“I was just getting a drink and suddenly everyone was yelling and fighting each other!” you tell him without breaking stride, “I don’t want any trouble, I’m just trying to get back to my ship! It’s too dangerous for me!”

“Where’s your ship?” Bepo asks immediately.

“On the other side of the island! I hope I can make it!”

“I’ll help you! We can give you a ride!” Bepo announces. You trip over your own feet and skid to a stop to avoid falling on your face. Once you’ve got your balance back, you look up at the Mink.

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course! And maybe…”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t been back home in so long, if you’ve been to Zou… maybe you could tell me about it while we’re on the ship? The Tang could take you around the island fast!”

“That sounds good to me,” you smile but it doesn’t last long because your Observation spikes and you grab Bepo’s paw.

“Come on!”

You take off running again and it’s a really good thing that you do because the footsteps are getting louder and you need all the distance you can get when someone behind you shouts, “THERE!”

“STOP!”

“COME BACK HERE!”

“THERE’S NOWHERE TO GO!”

Oh shit. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. Well, this is either going to work flawlessly or blow up completely in your face. You take a deep breath and bullshit like your life depends on it.

“They’re looking for you?!” you demand as you keep a tight hold over Bepo’s paw, “What did you do?!”

“I… I don’t know!” Bepo protests and your Haki lights up at the lie.

“STOP RUNNING!”

“IT WAS JUST ONE!” Bepo wails and that is genuinely a surprise, but it’s a useful one. Fuck, if you play your cards right, you might be able to make it out of here in one piece. You know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, and the universe has just handed you one supernova crew to escape another.

“It doesn’t matter! They seem pretty mad, we gotta run!”

You and Bepo tear through the streets with your hand gripping his paw, running for your lives as the mob behind you gets bigger and louder; it’s not just getting closer, there are more and more people joining. For a two hundred million Berry bounty, who wouldn’t?

Somehow, Bepo has not figured out that the entire mob is after you specifically.

“CAPTAIN!!!!” Bepo cries out, frantically waving his paw in the air as you tug him along, sprinting through the streets. You’re too far away to see, but you can feel the surge of exasperation in your Haki all the way from here. When the blue light washes over you, you feel a little tug where your other hand is gripping your sword. It almost feels like Ace is warning you that you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.

But you do want to, because if that mob catches you, you’re going to have to fight your way out so you exhale and relax your Armament Haki to allow the blue light to whisk you away.

When the blue fades, you’re standing on a vaguely familiar yellow submarine, still clutching Bepo’s paw tightly.

“Bepo.” Trafalgar Law grinds out, the bridge of his nose pinched between two bony fingers, “I told you to lay low.”

“Yeah, what were they chasing you for?!” you ask, your eyes wide as your chest heaves with exertion. Bepo’s body wilts with guilt and you can see the black clouds roll in over his head.

“Um… sorry.”

“Bepo.”

Bepo’s ear flicks.

“It was just one apple!”

“Bepo.”

“Mmmmmmmm—”

“Bepo.”

“It was five,” Bepo mutters, paws behind his back while one of his hind paws digs into the dirt.

“Bepo.” Law says again in the sternest voice you’ve heard from him so far, and that’s when Bepo raises his head and hits Law with the most devastatingly powerful puppy eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch Law’s resolve to be strict and disciplined crumble before your very eyes, a veritable sandcastle—nay, a sand fortress— washed away by the tides.

“Don’t do it again,” Law mutters.

Holy shit, Bepo. That was incredible.

You’re still staring at your new idol when Law turns his attention to you.

“Who the hell are you?” Trafalgar Law, rising Supernova and the Surgeon of Death, Captain of the Heart pirates and user of the Op-Op Fruit, demands are he stares at you. You bow your head respectfully and tell him your name.

After this, you’re going to have to change up your whole disguise and start traveling under a new fake name, so it’s not much longer that you’ll be able to use your real name.

“I’m just a traveler, I got scared when a bar fight broke out and then I ran into Bepo while I was trying to get back to my ship. He said you might be able to give me a ride to the other shore.”

“Captain!” Bepo exclaims excitedly, “She’s been to Zou! She knows Master Cat Viper and Pedro!”

Law’s eyes focus on you. His attention is more intense than you’re comfortable with, especially after narrowly escaping one close call, but he seems more curious than suspicious.

“Really.”

You nod.

“I’ve been all over the New World. I was hoping Paradise might be a little safer.”

Law snorts.

“If you’re looking for safe, you should head to the Blues.”

You can’t help but laugh because that’s genuinely good advice.

“I’m thinking about it,” you tell him. Then you pause and say, “I don’t want to impose, but I would really appreciate a ride back to my ship, it’s near the port on the far side of the island. If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“Please, Captain?!” Bepo adds, and you know how this song and dance goes. It’s not long before Law has reluctantly agreed to be your personal taxi for the next half hour.

“Thank you so much, Captain…?”

“Law. Trafalgar Law,” Law answers. His eyes narrow on you and your heart skips a beat, “You look familiar.”

For a second, your heart stops. But he doesn’t keep going and your brain shoves an excuse at you with speed born from desperation and adrenaline.

“I think we met briefly,” you pretend the roughness in your voice is just from fleeing a hostile mob, “I was staying at Twin Capes when your ship arrived in the Grand Line. With Crocus and the Island Whale.”

“Hmm. Your hair was shorter.”

Your hand flies up to the hair that’s brushing the tops of your shoulders.

“Yeah, I need to cut it again. It’s getting too long,” you agree. Something about the mention of Crocus is needling at you, especially in the context of meeting Law. It feels like a lightbulb flicking to life when the wires connect. “You said Trafalgar, right?”

“What about it.”

“I think…” you reach up and pull your bag off your shoulder, digging around in it for your textbook. When you pull it out, the name is front and center. You beam and hold it out.

“What is this?” Law asks. He sounds confused.

“Crocus gave this to me, I think it’s a very old edition but it was very useful. It was written by a doctor Trafalgar Norton. Is he a relative of yours?”

Law’s eyes widen and the crew in boiler suits on the deck all go still and silent.

“My great grandfather,” Law bites out, and he doesn’t feel mad but it’s a little hard to be sure.

“You should keep it. I’ve been lugging it around for a while, I don’t need it anymore.”

Seriously. You’ve got the important stuff memorized and it’s pretty much just dead weight at this point.

Law just stares at the book in his hands. For a little too long. But you’re happy to wait, that mob is only just starting to get into their boats and come after the ship.

“Where did you need to go, again?”

You take a deep breath and tighten your grip on your supplies. You’re still stocked on dry goods, so all you’ve got is a big paper bag of fresh produce. Nothing suspicious for a lone woman walking around town.

With a gentle smile on your face and an absentminded hum on your lips, you stroll out of the market and down the plaza. You keep your eyes up the whole time, watching the two men sitting against the wall that are tracking every person that passes through the archway. They definitely weren’t here the last time you landed on this island for your meeting with the Revolutionaries. You’ve been watching for a while and they haven’t stopped anyone yet; that’s enough for you to risk it.

You’re still not particularly surprised when they straighten as you pass, holding out their arms before you can pass through.

“Just a second, miss,” one of them says.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, shifting nervously. Not too nervously, but you’re a lone woman in an unfamiliar place being stopped by two much bigger, stronger men.

“Haven’t seen you around before. You new in town?” the taller one asks. You start to nod and then change it to a nervous shrug.

“I don’t live here, um, I just… my friend and I just stopped here to reset our log pose.”

“You sailed here?” the other asks sharply, moving to stand next to his partner.

You gulp and nod.

“What are you, a pirate?”

You shake your head, a little too fast.

“No! No sir, just a traveler.”

The two men exchange looks.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Um… his name is Earl?” you answer slowly, “He stayed with the ship while I went into town.”

“He let you come into town by yourself?”

You blink.

“Excuse me?”

Really, what the hell is that about?

The shorter one elbows the other but neither of them speak. You shift the grocery bag in your arms and look up at them with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, miss. What my brother was trying to say is that there’s a lot of unsavory characters in this area, it’s very dangerous to go off on your own.”

As he speaks, he turns just to the perfect angle to flash sunlight in your face from his sword. You jump back, eyes wide. A kumquat falls out of your bag.

“What’s going on? Is this a robbery?! I don’t have much money, I don’t—”

“What? No! Miss, I’m so sorry, that came out wrong,” the first one apologizes, taking a big backwards step out of your space.

“You’re pirates, aren’t you?” you demand fearfully, staring at the matching Jolly Rogers on their sleeves— a skull and crossbones with a paintbrush through the eye and a deep red streak behind it.

“Uh, well yes, but…”

“We’re looking after the town, alright? This island is protected territory, that’s all. We’re sorry to have scared you,” the second cuts in. He bends down to retrieve the fallen kumquat before holding out to you in a gesture of peace.

Slowly, you hold out your bag and let him place it inside.

“Sorry to have disturbed you.”

They both give you encouraging smiles that you return hesitantly, keeping a tight leash on your Haki.

You recognized that Jolly Roger the instant you saw it. It’s the symbol of Red-Brush Rafael, Captain of the Mind Artisan Pirates. He’s one of the only true masters of the Sentiment Color Wheel in the entire world; think Miss Goldenweek and multiply her power by a hundred.

He’s also been an Allied Captain of the Whitebeard Grand Fleet for the last eighteen years.

Your only saving grace is that the two of them are new to Raf’s crew; they’ve never met you before.

Fuck, you have to get off this island. And you need a new plan, stat.

“Are you heading to your ship?”

With your lips pressed together in the best imitation of a smile you can manage, you shake your head. You can’t risk them seeing Earl.

“No, actually. I was about to go buy some lunch.”

“Hey, there’s a great restaurant in town. We can walk you there!”

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that.”

“Please, it would be our pleasure. As an apology for scaring you.”

Shit, you’re not getting out of this one. Refusing would be suspicious and even if they’re new to the Fleet, they’re both strong and you do not want to test your Haki against both of theirs.

“If you’re sure…”

“Great! It’s just this way. Let me carry that for you,” the first one says, practically grabbing the groceries out of your arms in his rush to be polite. You’re happy to let him take it; it’s just fruit and vegetables, if you need to cut and run, it’ll be easier with nothing but the bag on your back. But if they try touching that one, then you’ll all have a problem.

“Thank you,” you smile, pretending the redness on your face is just a blush and not a dead giveaway to how fast your brain is spinning to try and figure out everything that might give you away before you step into a pit trap.

“I’m Rod, by the way,” says the one holding your groceries as he nods at the man on your other side, who smiles brightly and waves, “This is Tucker.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you smile politely, feigning calm even as your pulse speeds up with every step. They don’t know who you are. You have to relax or you’re going to blow your own cover.

“And you are?” Tucker asks.

You smile while your brain face-plants over a mental curb. After that clusterfuck with Bege, you can’t use your real name anymore.

“…Stephanie,” you say, picking the first name that comes to your mind. Thank fuck you didn’t say Frog this time. Of course, then you remember where you got Stephanie from in the first place and your cheeks flush. God knows why you’re thinking about your dad almost giving you his future dog’s name, that was almost fifteen years ago. It makes sense though; with the way you’re trying not to panic, your brain is a goddamn mess right now. “My friends call me Steph.”

Stop talking stop talking stop talking you’re gonna fuck it up.

“Have you been to this island before?” Tucker asks casually. You still can’t get a read on their Haki—that’s the problem with hiding your own presence is that you can’t tell how strong someone else is without revealing how strong you are. And true, Raf doesn’t have particularly strong Haki, especially not for an Allied Captain, but someone on his crew might. You do not want to find out the hard way.

So the fewer lies you tell, the better.

“I met some friends here a while ago. I don’t remember how long ago, but the island looks pretty much the same. You?”

“It’s our first time!”

“We’ve been here a few weeks now, though.”

It’s a clear opening for you to ask what they’re doing on the island and instead of asking, which would immediately lead the conversation somewhere you do NOT want it to go, you just smile and nod.

The lapse in conversation is definitely a little awkward, but it picks up again soon. The three of you chat about pretty much nothing, and then Rod volunteers the fact that he was born in South Blue and you don’t offer any follow ups on that. You can’t tell if he’s fishing for information or just being friendly but so far, your Observation is being quiet. Of course, pulled in tightly like this, it won’t be able to warn you until trouble is on top of you.

The two pirates lead you back into town and even though it’s crowded with islanders going about their day and doing their shopping, nobody glances at the three of you although every so often someone smiles and waves at your new companions. The Mind Artisan Pirates have clearly won over the residents; the island does seem a lot less shady than it was when you met up with Sabo. You wonder how long they’ve been here but asking about anything that might lead back to you is a no-go.

Tucker takes the lead to steer you down a side street to a wide plaza with restaurants and shops on all sides. It’s very pretty—lots balconies with flowering plants in hanging pots, beautiful murals painted along the buildings, green trees and flowering shrubs lining the careful stonework of the streets— and it’s a little early for lunch but there’s still tons of people out and about. Your plan to ditch them outside the restaurant hits a snag when the host smiles brightly as Rod and Tucker lead you straight up to the podium.

“You’re early today, boys,” the man—old enough to be their father—chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs some menus, “Table for three?”

“Nothing for us now,” Rod shakes his head as Tucker claps his hand on your shoulder.

“We were just telling our friend here about this place. Think you can show her a nice time?”

The man raises his hand and purses his lips, nodding in perfect understanding as if to say “say no more.”

“She’s in good hands. Right this way, young lady,” the host nods, gesturing to the side with the menu.

“Don’t forget this!” Rod adds, ducking a little to pass your grocery bag back to you, “Have a good meal. It was a good to meet you, Steph!”

“Safe travels! Hope we meet again someday!” Tucker calls back as he waves.

“I’m sure we will,” you force out through a smile that’s barely-constrained panic. The worst part of all of this is that your new brothers are utter sweethearts and you know your dad will adore them.

The host leads you all the way through the restaurant to the outdoor dining area that’s enclosed by tall plants and low walls decorated in intricate patterns of tile shards. You’re seated at a table right beside the wall and you order quickly, asking for whatever the chef recommends.

Then you’re stuck at a small table in a crowded restaurant, doing your absolute best to keep your head down and not attract any attention. Your palms are sweaty and you take a long drink of water as soon as the waiter drops it off while you fight to keep your knee from bouncing restlessly.

Even with your Haki pulled in tight, you can still feel Rod and Tucker nearby. They didn’t leave the plaza after they dropped you off. But the restaurant isn’t the problem, you don’t feel anything strange about the host or the waiters or even the other patrons.

So why is your heart still beating at double-speed? Is it a trap? Some kind of psychological torture?

No, you may have only known them for about fifteen minutes, but your brothers would never play mind games with you like that. You’re positive that there’s a reason they haven’t left the plaza and that reason has nothing to do with you.

In the time it takes the waiter to bring back your food—some kind of seafood pasta that looks better than anything you’ve eaten since Lunch— you’ve watched the population of the plaza shift. People still flock to the restaurants, but the men and women casually hanging out and chatting in the early morning slowly filter out, gradually replaced by more and more pirates. And three guesses whose Jolly Roger they’re all wearing.

Despite the fact that you’re slowly being surrounded by your brother’s crew, your Observation still hasn’t given you even the slightest warning that you’re in trouble. So if it’s not a trap for you, why the hell are the Mind Artisan Pirates all gathering in the plaza?

You do your best to eat your food casually; there’s nothing strange about a tourist eating lunch and you’re doing a decent enough job that none of the other tables around you have given you even a second glance. The waiter comes back and refills your glass and happily takes your compliments to pass on to the chef.

As he walks away, a flash of purple above the topiary catches your eye and you turn to see a head of purple hair that makes your heart stop.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck you’d know those purple dreadlocks anywhere.

Sure, it’s been a couple of years since you saw him, but all the Allied Captains are drawn like main characters and Rafael is no different.

It’s crowded. There are at least a hundred other people in the plaza and Raf looks stressed and tired. You pull your Haki presence in as tightly as you can and eye all of the exit routes, praying to every god you’ve ever heard of and a dozen you make up on the spot that he doesn’t notice you.

He’s a master at painting, though. Not Observation.

When their captain appears, the Mind Artisan pirates lolling around the plaza immediately move to join him. And because you are literally in hell right now—a hell where you’re terrified to even breathe because you know your limits and you cannot escape from Red-Brush Rafael if he figures out you’re sitting right fucking here—they gather at the end of the plaza closest to the table you’re sitting at. The low wall and all the potted plants are not nearly enough cover for you.

Crap. Crap crap crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap—

You can’t breathe. He’s just on the other side of the wall. One of your strongest, craftiest brothers and his entire crew, who are all also your brothers and equally intent on capturing you. And they’re all gathering around. Waiting. You can see Tucker’s orange bandana sticking up over the branches of the plants wall.

Why haven’t they done anything yet?

You’re literally sitting close enough to hear one of your brothers say, “That’s our slot, Cap.”

“Thanks, Muffin.”

That’s not a pet name. Muffin is Raf’s comms officer. He’s got a blueberry muffin tattoo on his left bicep that he swore to you up and down was a birthmark. He’s also got a bunch of constellation tattoos on his right arm that he used to let you play Connect the Dots with.  

“Pudda pudda pudda pudda—ca-lick.”

As soon as the call connects, the snail rattles off a string of nonsense that Rafael answers with the corresponding gibberish to confirm his identity. And suddenly you have bigger problems than the fact that an entire slew of your brothers are just on the other side of this plant wall.

“Raf, please tell me you have something,” Haruta’s voice dumps a bucket of ice water over your head. You’ve never heard him sound so stressed in your entire life.

“She was definitely on this island,” Raf reports back and your mouth goes completely dry in an instant. How the fuck… he sounds positive. But how could he know? You only landed on the island this morning and he doesn’t know you’re right here. Unless Rod and Tucker were leading you straight into a trap, but why wouldn’t they just grab you and be done with it? They wouldn’t bother dropping you off at a restaurant and pretending to walk away. No. If Raf knew you were right here, Haruta wouldn’t even have a chance to get the question out. Your hand tightens around your fork as you clamp down even tighter on your Haki, “No way to know how long ago, though, Gene-Paul’s beacon lit up the second we planted it. There’s no sign of her now. But we did find a witness from her last sighting.”

“They were on Marsh Winds?”

You flinch; of course Haruta already knows which island you were spotted on.

“Yeah. He only saw the tail end of it, but he confirmed the early report you sent. It was a polar bear Mink.”

“His name’s Bepo,” Haruta says tiredly, “I already talked to Pedro. He wanted to vouch for him but he hasn’t seen the kid in years; turns out he’s Zepo’s little brother. Left Zou a decade ago looking for him.”

Raf lets out a sharp exhale. You grit your teeth together and try to act natural so you don’t draw attention to your eavesdropping, forcing yourself to take another bite of your food. Haruta works scarily fast.

“He’s also the Heart Pirates’ Navigator,” Haruta continues, “Did your witness say anything about a blue light?”

“Exactly that. He says everything turned blue and then she and the Mink were gone like that,” Rafael answers with a snap of his fingers. Haruta cusses and your eyes widen because you’ve never heard him say half of those words before.

“Trafalgar Law,” Haruta curses, “If that son of a bitch lays a single finger on her—"

Your fingernails break skin. You hiss, looking down to see little crescents of blood welling up at the meat of your palms. Shit. They think Law caught you, the entire Fleet is going to be after him for the crime of helping you escape.

Fuck.

Oh god, if you get Law and his crew killed…

“We’re tracking their sub now. They’re new to the Grand Line, chances are high they’re stuck on one of the main routes.”

“If they are, they should make port on Kortsmuth soon,” Raf agrees. Haruta exhales so loudly you can hear it over the snail.

“Drock is already there,” Haruta says, “Kinga and Andre are close by, too. Should be plenty to deal with one Rookie crew.”

Drock the Wrecker— captain of the Construction Pirates— isn’t the problem. Kinga and Andre are.

They were both members of your dad’s original crew, and like all the other originals, they have ridiculously strong Haki, won’t be fooled by cheap tricks, and oh yeah, they will absolutely recognize your presence from a mile away.

Okay. Note to self: do not go to Kortsmuth. It’s the next stop by log pose after Marsh Winds Island, and even if you weren’t planning to travel that far, it’s good to know to avoid it at all costs.

Fucking hell, you really do have the entire Fleet on your ass.

Your fork rattles against your plate and you set it down quickly before the noise attracts any attention. Your pulse is too fast and your breathing is starting to speed up and the rising panic is messing with your control over your Haki. You force yourself to tune everything out, to take another sip of water and savor the cool, refreshing feeling, and then look down at your half-eaten plate until you’re back in control.

They don’t know you’re right here.

You can do this.

“Alright, keep me posted if you hear anything before the next check-in,” Haruta says and you don’t know if you’re happy or worried that you just missed a bunch of their conversation.

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Raf.”

“Of course. And…” he trails off.

“Yeah?”

How’s Pops doing?” Raf asks worriedly. You have to physically bite your tongue to stop the sound from escaping your chest because you desperately do not want to hear the answer. But if you move, if you make a sound, if you draw any attention to yourself, it’s over.

Haruta sighs, heavy with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“It’s been rough,” Haruta admits and a knife digs into your lungs while a vice clamps down on your heart. Which is nothing compared to when he adds, “But it helps knowing we’re getting close.”

As soon as Raf and the rest of your brothers disperse, you pay for your food and head out of town as fast as you can without drawing suspicion. Panic builds in your chest with every step now that there’s no imminent threat forcing you to get it under control.

You can’t keep traveling in circles forever, especially not after you were spotted in the area. Double especially not with every island crawling with Marines, bounty hunters, greedy pirate crews, and on top of all that, your dad’s entire fleet.

At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before you get caught.

“Excuse me, miss,” an old man stops you as you make your way towards the last gate out of town on the path that leads directly to the beach. You jump about a foot in the air and nearly lose your grip on your grocery bag. He’s tall enough to tower over you and has long gray hair that’s still flecked with its original pink. You don’t recognize him but he’s clearly not a Marine and you don’t see anything pirate-y about him.

You force a pleasant smile onto your face but after what you just overheard—not to mention the clusterfuck with Bege on the previous island— you’re feeling seriously fucking paranoid. Your hair is cut short again and you threw out all the clothes that someone from the last island might recognize, but you cannot get caught now.

Not when you’re just waiting on that damn snailie call to finally end this torturous waiting game.

“I’m sorry, I’m in a hurry,” you apologize as you try to push past him.

“It won’t take long!” the man promises, side-stepping backwards as he raises his palms at you like he’s showing you there’s nothing up his sleeves. You don’t trust him for a second. Harmless old man or not, you’ve seen enough weird Devil Fruit powers that you’re immediately ready to bolt, “I just saw that sword of yours and I have a few quick questions!”

“It’s not for sale,” you try to keep your tone light and pleasant but it’s taking all your self-control not to snarl at him. Ace is your sword and she was a gift from your dad and you are tired and stressed and homesick and you don’t want anyone to even look at her, “Have a good day.”

“Wait, miss! I just have to know where you got it!” the man calls after you as you push your way past him.

Then something terrifying happens.

His hand closes around your wrist.

Before your Observation Haki has a chance to warn you about it.

You freeze, staring at him in shock as your heart begins to pound inside your chest. That’s happened to you before.

Against people with stronger Haki than yours.

You pull back but his grip is immovable around your wrist.

“Let go of me.”

Your mouth is dry. Your lungs are broken. You’re getting dizzy.

He stares at you with ravenous hunger in his eyes and your heart is all the way up your throat, blocking your petrified lungs from getting any air. With a tug on your wrist, he yanks you all the way over to him. You barely keep hold over your bag as he steps even closer until you’re surrounded by him. He looms over you, blocking the rest of the world away.

“I’d know that sword anywhere,” the man mutters low enough that only you can hear it and you’re suddenly aware that you’ve been caught by the scariest person on the planet, “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who you are and why you of all people are carrying the Pirate King’s Ace.”

Your eyes can’t physically get any wider and you jerk back, trying to free yourself from his grip. But your attempts just make the man’s grin grow even more sinister and the hold just gets tighter. The adrenaline turns into pure panic when the man flays you apart with his x-ray eyes that rove up and down your body until they fix on your wrist and stay there. He pulls your arm up to his eye level, hoisting you up on your toes, and you’re frozen in terror as his mouth slowly falls open. Your grocery bag hits the ground, produce spilling out over the street. But you barely even notice. Because before your eyes, the man’s expression slowly lights up with a heart-stopping combination of awe, delight and greed.  

Oh shit.

Shit shit shit shit SHIT!

“Let go. Let go! Let me go!!!!”

“Got you,” the man exhales as he stares at the bracelet around your wrist with nothing short of sheer triumph. When his eyes jump to your face, you jerk back. Not that it helps. “Edward Alexandria. It’s—”

You don’t wait to hear what’s coming next. You coat your heel in Haki and drive it into his knee as hard as you can. The element of surprise is enough to twist yourself free but the man doesn’t stay down for long.

“If that’s how you want to play it!” he growls, and then you get to see just how fast he is. You reach for your sword, instincts screaming that there’s no time to play around, but his fist strikes out in a blur and the point of his knuckle jabs into the fleshy part of your arm just above your elbow.

Your entire forearm goes numb and your hand spasms, dropping your sword back into its sheath. He’s on top of you in an instant, snagging each of your wrists and wrenching them behind you.

In that instant, you abandon all your plans. If you’re going to be caught, your family is infinitely better than being kidnapped. You open your mouth to scream (for help, for Rafael and his crew, for anyone) but you barely get a single sound out before a palm clamps down over your mouth and cuts you off completely.

Eyes wide, you thrash against his grip like a wild animal snagged in a trap. It’s effortless for him to hold you in place. You scream as loudly as you can but nothing gets past his hand.

“You’re coming with me,” the man locking your arms together behind your back with a single hand tells you as he uses that and the silencing hold on your face to manhandle you down the empty street, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Chapter Text

Your kidnapper releases you in a brightly lit room at the top floor of a hotel—he dragged you through an unmarked utility door and up the service elevator to get there. It’s a big room full of expensive-looking amenities and decorations and you don’t have much time to look around before you’re being ushered over to a table with two chairs, a recording snail, a video transponder snail, and a notebook with so many extra pages added that it looks like it’s going to burst.

There’s a long suit jacket hanging over the edge of the bed, back side up so you can see the initials “WEJ” embroidered into the back in very expensive gold thread. Actually, once you notice it, those initials are everywhere. WEJ.

WEJ.

WEJ.

What the fuck does WEJ stand for?

Some kind of kidnapping ring?

“Have a seat,” your kidnapper offers, gesturing at the dramatically less nice chair. You eye it suspiciously, then him, and then your hand closes around your sword. The terrifying old man shakes his head at you dismissively. “Now, now, play nice or I’ll have to tie you up.”

The threat—spoken so casually, so obviously effortless for him to follow through with after how easily he caught you—fills your stomach with ice. You swallow nervously but take a seat.

It feels better to pretend you have a choice. And you have your sword. If you book it, there’s a chance you could break through the window and escape that way. Your kidnapper grabs a pipe off the dresser and lights it up, blowing out a cloud of smoke. Then he struts over to the nicer chair and settles himself in like a king, flicking dials and knobs on the transponder and recording snails’ attachments before snatching up the notepad and a pencil.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, girl,” he starts imperiously, looking down at you.

The sound you make is utter disbelief.

“I have a lot of nerve???? You just kidnapped me!”

The man waves a dismissive hand.

“I didn’t kidnap you, this is an interview!”

You blink harder than you’ve ever blinked in your life.

“An interview?”

“An obligatory one, but yes.”

“And what about after?” you demand, trying your best to make it an intimidating growl.

“After? Well, I’ll send you on your merry way. I don’t interfere in events, I’m a journalist!”

A journalist?

“Is this a fucking joke?”

Although… WEJ is an acronym for the World Economic Journal, and all the stuff on the table is exactly what you’d expect from a reporter. It’s possible he’s not lying.

“Hm… we’ll have to censor that. Try to avoid profanity, if you please.”

“If I—what is going on?! Who the hell are you?!”

The self-proclaimed journalist looks offended as he looks down at you.

“Who am I? Haven’t you put it together yet?” the old man demands, “I’m but a simple man who cares about one thing and one thing only.”

“And that is?” you shoot back. He’s right, you haven’t put it together yet, but you’re definitely aware that you’re missing something. Is he a retired Marine? You can’t remember what Kong looks like, but you’re pretty sure he wasn’t anything like this.

“Why the news, of course. And you my dear… are big news!”

With that, his body shifts. His neck elongates and tiny bumps rise along every inch of exposed skin until feathers burst out even as his long hair recedes back into his skull. You’ve never seen any transformation like it; not Chopper, not Dalton, and especially not Marco who just bursts into flame.

A sound comes out of your throat. For the life of you, you have no other way to describe the five stages of grief you go through in the span of an instant, culminating in the biggest shock of either of your lives. Which, by the way, includes the moment you realized that you were suddenly and without warning an infant in a terrifying fictional world.

You’ve just been kidnapped by Big News Morgans himself.

“I would just like to say,” you wheeze out as best as you can, “what the fuck”

“You asked to meet with me, didn’t you?”

“Okay, yes. But again, and I would like to stress this, WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY DIDN’T YOU LEAD WITH THAT?!”

“And risk you blowing my cover?” Morgans scoffs and he quite literally could not be any more affronted by the suggestion, “I only have the one disguise, you know.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST ANSWER MY LETTER?!” you’re nearly shouting from hysteria, panic and dizzying confusion still thrumming through your bloodstream. You thought you’d been grabbed by a fucking slaver ring or underworld kingpin—you nearly called your brothers on yourself!!!! And it’s Morgans?!?!?!

FUCK!!! Holy CRAP you thought you were going to get fucking sold at an auction, this FUCKER!!!! FUCK!!!

“Hardly my fault,” Morgans sniffs, irritation flowing off him in waves, “Your sea king nearly ate my best deliveryman. He’s quite unhappy with you. Which serves you right, ridiculous that you’ve absconded with my flock for so long.”

Your jaw drops.

Earl tried to eat a News Coo?! God, no wonder you’ve only been able to get newspapers at the islands you’ve stopped at.

That can’t stand.

You take a deep breath. Then another dozen deeps breaths, forcing your thoughts back in order to handle the current crisis. Okay. Breathe. One crisis at a time.

“I had no idea he did that,” you say honestly before bowing your head a little, “Please tell him that I’m incredibly sorry and that I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Hmmm. I’ll tell him. But I make no promises. Now,” he says dismissively, pushing ahead to the part you’re dreading, “to business.”

“We… we’re not on the record are we?”

“We are.”

“Tu—turn it off.”

Without breaking eye contact with you, Morgans flips a switch and the snail recorder goes still, eye stalks drooping and mouth falling shut.

“I meant what I said in my letter. I want to talk to you; there’s something important I need to find out.”

“I’m amenable to that,” Morgans answers flippantly, “Provided that you give me an exclusive interview.”

“What kind of interview?”

“I want to know the whole story.”

“I thought you didn’t interfere in events. You interviewing me for the World Economic Journal sort of changes the missing person angle, doesn’t it?”

Morgans laughs, and it would sound condescending if he wasn’t so genuinely amused by the question.

“Do you honestly think your birthday was the first I knew about your disappearance? Alexandria, a hundred and thirteen islands under your father’s protection received snail calls from either the Moby Dick or a member of the Whitebeard fleet within two days. Sixty-two percent of the Whitebeard Fleet changed course within the week. Red-Haired Shanks set sail less than three days after stopping at the island with his favorite bar in the entire New World. Need I go on?”

“Then why did you wait? Why not report it as soon as you knew?”

“Because then people might start wondering why an economic journal is aware of the incoming transponder calls of dozens of non-member countries in the New World. Or wonder what other ship movements we might be keeping track of.”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“By all means.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Instead of getting mad, Morgans throws his head back and laughs delightedly. He claps his wings together like hands, papers rustling from the sudden burst of wind.

“You’re quite a character. And brave, too, I admire that.” Morgans says, “But to your point, this interview is for my records only. I pride myself in the accuracy of my journal’s reporting and I expect that there will be quite a lot of conflicting and misleading—potentially deliberately misleading—information to arise and I want to be able to separate the truth from the chaff.

“Any objections?”

“No.”

“Excellent,” Morgans reaches forwards to turn on all the recording equipment. “Please state your name for my records.”

“My name is Edward Alexandria.”

“And do you attest that you are giving this interview of your own free will, and that the information you’ll share is the truth?”

“You kidnapped me.”

“You contacted me first.”

“Why are you treating this like a court hearing?”

“Focus on the questions, not the methods,” Morgans reprimands sharply and it takes all of your willpower not to roll your eyes at that. He doesn’t give you a lot of time from there, and when he launches in, it's with the last question you're expecting him to start with.

“Where did you get your sword?”

You blink.

“My dad gave it to me when I was a kid. I’ve had it since I was eight.”

Morgans makes a humming sound.

“That would be around the time of your bounty poster, would it not?”

“It was right after that.”

“Was it because of the poster?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, “And I didn’t ask because I didn’t want him to change his mind.”

“Were you aware of your sword’s prior owner?”

“No. I am now, but I only found out a little while ago.”

“From who?”

Oh, you are not stupid enough to give Kureha’s name out. That old bitch will track you down and give you hell for it. Hopefully Crocus will be more forgiving.

“I met a doctor near the entrance to the Grand Line who treated him, they recognized the sword and told me her name.”

“This doctor…” Morgans asks, “Old?”

“Older than me,” you shrug.

“Ill-tempered?”

“Ahuh.”

“Any connection to flowers?”

You think of both crocuses and cherry blossoms.

“Yep.”

“An animal they were charged with caring for?”

Wow, Crocus and Kureha are basically the same person when you put it like that.

“Yes, okay, it seems like you know who I’m talking about,” you say. Morgans leers at you.

“For the record, please state the previous owner of your sword.”

You glare at him. He taps his pen against the paper impatiently.

“I’m happy to state it for you if you’d prefer.”

“No,” you answer immediately because you do not want the words Ace and Roger to ever be said in the same breath, “It belonged to Gold Roger, the King of the Pirates.”

“And why do you think your father gave you that sword?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly because you really don’t have a clue, “I’ve always wanted to be a swordsman and I just thought it was a really good sword. But he’s never wanted me to fight, so I thought that giving me a sword that was way too big was a way to slow me down.”

“Is that what you think now?”

“No, of course not! It’s… it’s the Pirate King’s sword. I have no idea why he thought I was the right person for it but I… I’m glad he did.”

“May I see her? Up close.”

“Why?”

Morgans doesn’t answer immediately. There’s still an intensity to the look in his eyes but it’s not greed anymore. It feels like hunger, but… almost more. Like it’s more important than he could possibly put into words.

“Fine. But I get to pass on a question if I don’t like it.”

“One pass,” Morgans agrees far too easily. You know you’re not going to get a better deal than that so you put your hand on Ace’s hilt. She’s calm, there’s none of the bloodlust you were expecting.

You draw your sword, holding out your cutlass for Morgans to see. He draws in a sharp breath, eyes widening, and for a brief second you swear that his eyes look almost wet.

He reaches out and then stops himself, wings still outstretched.

“May I?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s going to make off with your sword (but who knows) and you know that Ace can make people she doesn’t want touching her regret ever laying a finger on her.

You hold out your sword and let Morgans gently touch the blade. He studies her up and down, turning her over with care that’s almost reverent. There’s no fuss when he’s done, he just pulls his wing back and nods.

“She suits you,” he announces and you’re not sure why he has any opinion on it. Then again, he did recognize her from just her undisguised hilt from the other side of the street. He’s clearly familiar with her for reasons you still don’t understand. You’re even more confused about the fact that Ace is nearly buzzing at his words, your Haki brimming with satisfaction from the famed blade. “And you suit her. You’re quite a pair.”

You sheath Ace, your fingers still tingling with Ace’s approval.

“Enough about your sword. What about your mother?”

“My mother?”

“The world already knows who your father is, tell me about your mother.”

“My dad never told me anything about her,” you answer honestly.

“And are you curious about that?”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose.

“Who wouldn’t be?”

Morgans narrows his eyes at you, his pen falling still.

“That’s what I’m wondering. So I’ll ask again. Are you curious why your father never mentioned her?”

You haven’t seen the movie My Cousin Vinny in over thirty years but you still remember that court scene where Vinny cross-examines a witness and doesn’t miss a beat when the man parrots the question back instead of giving a clear answer that will actually hold weight in court. Morgans knows exactly what you’re trying to do and he’s not going to fall for any of your tricks.

So there’s only one trick left.

Honesty.

“No. I’m not.”

“Really? Why not?”

“If my dad never mentioned her, then I know he has a reason,” like the fact that he doesn’t know, he found you deserted inside a treasure chest. You’ve never wondered about your mother for a very simple reason. You don’t have one. You got dropped inside this wor… this dream world as a baby in a treasure chest, there was never anything before that. But you’re sure as hell not telling Morgans that. “I trust him.”

“Even now? After months at sea running away from him and his fleet? Unless…” A quizzical look crosses Morgans’ beak, “I hadn’t considered he would, but your father didn’t send you to Paradise, did he?”

The idea is so absurd it makes you bark out a laugh.

“Uh, yeah, absolutely not.”

“Well, that leads to the question on everyone’s mind. Why did you leave your father’s ship?”

You knew the question was coming but it still makes you shiver with anxiety. But you already made up your mind to do this interview, you have to tell him something.

“There’s… something important I need to do that I couldn’t do from there.”

“Which is?”

You hesitate. God, this feels like such a bad idea, you just know this is all going to bite you in the ass someday, but you’re in too far to turn around. Morgans is right; you asked for his help first. If you want him to help you, you have to give him at least some of what he’s asking for.

“Presumably something to do with the devil fruit you stole.”

Deep breath.

“Yes.”

“Did you eat it?” Morgans asks curiously, pen scratching over paper.

“No. I’m going to sell it.”

Eyebrows rise in surprise and you’re honestly just surprised that he still has eyebrows in partial Zoan form.

“Money? Hardly expected that,” he mutters to himself before pausing to tilt his head and tap his beak with his pen, still muttering, “Although, your father is notoriously unreliable with money, I suppose it’s not as though there’s much left over for you.”

Your mouth twists in annoyance before you can hide it; you don’t care about money. You never have. And you don’t appreciate the insinuation that your family didn’t get you everything you could possibly need.

But Morgans isn’t done.

“Mmmm…” he considers at length, long enough that you risk a glance at the snail recorder and wonder if you’ll be able to turn it off without him noticing. No, that’s really not worth the risk. Even if you can, he’ll be pissed at you when he realizes his interview cut off halfway through, and you do NOT need a man like Morgans as your enemy. “No, I don’t buy it. It’s not about the money, that’s just a means to an end. There’s something else you want.”

His eyes jump onto your face.

“Well?”

You can’t answer that. He’ll know if you’re lying and you can’t tell him that there’s a traitor on your dad’s crew. That’s none of his business.

“It could be an item, although you don’t strike me as materialistic. A goal, perhaps? Something specific, something important, something your father and brothers would never allow you to do on your own. You wouldn’t go to such extreme lengths if it weren’t necessary. Not enough to risk your life for. Although… how selling a fruit gets you there… you wouldn’t just tell me, would you?”

You don’t answer that either. He’d take a “no” as confirmation that the other things he said were right.

“Who are you selling it to?” Morgans asks instead. When you don’t answer for a third time in a row, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “This is like pulling teeth, Alexandria, an interview involves answering the questions I ask you. Unless you’d rather call it off?”

And let him walk away with enough for an article without giving you anything he promised in exchange?

“Someone who wants it.”

Morgans eyes light up yet again and you fight the urge to curse when he grins at you.

“If you didn’t have someone in mind, you would’ve just said so,” he points out.

You don’t say anything to that. He’s not wrong

“Alright. I think I have what I need,” Morgans nods. You don’t exhale a sigh of relief but it’s a close thing.

“So. Why did you want to talk to me?” the paparazzo poses, plumed pen poised over paper.

Your heart skips a beat.

Okay.

You can be honest with yourself.

This part of the plan… was always a crapshoot. It’s not even part of the plan, not really. It’s more like groundwork for Plan G. Or Plan H. And it’s a ridiculous and dangerous idea that is playing with fire in every possible way.

But you’re here now and you've already given Morgans his interview, so you might as well use the opportunity you’ve got.

“I need to find someone and you’re the best shot I can think of to do it.”

Interest flashes in Mogans’ eyes.

“Who is it?”

With a sharp inhale, you meet his gaze.

“His name is Buggy.”

“Buggy,” Morgans repeats dubiously, “Are you talking about Buggy the Clown?”

“I was right, then,” you answer. You tilt your head and glance down at your bag (not your grocery bag, your actual bag that you’re terrified to let out of your sight) where your journal sits just above the locked chest. “You have heard of him.”

“Heard of, yes. But only barely,” Morgans lies in a haughty tone. He grabs his notebook and beings flipping through it, discarding pages carelessly. Although, the longer you look, the clearer it is that there’s nothing careless about it. He knows exactly what he’s looking for. With a flip of his prehensile wing, he slaps a familiar bounty poster on the table.

Buggy the Clown. Fifteen Million Berries, Wanted Dead or Alive.

“East Blue Crew,” he rattles off, “Forty-six active members, sixty-one in total counting former and deceased members. His current First Mate is Iron Mace Alvida, replacing Mohji the Beast Tamer and Cabaji the Acrobat.”

Morgans glances down at his notes and corrects himself.

“Was an East Blue Crew. He and his crew entered the Grand Line several months ago.”

You blink.

“That is terrifying. But also really impressive.”

The thought of what else is in that massive book makes a shiver run down your spine. Morgans remains the scariest person you’ve ever met and this just feels like a worse and worse idea. But you don’t really have a choice.

“Do you know where he is now?” you ask. Morgans grins at you.

“I might,” he tips his beak at you, “But if I were to recall something so trivial, I’d of course need some information from you first. Tell me, Alexandria, why are you looking for him of all people?”

“I already gave you my interview,” you answer.

Morgans studies you for an uncomfortably long time and you’re happy to wait him out now that you made it through the interview portion more or less unscathed.

“Well, on my end… I only have one question.”

“I doubt that,” you mutter. But you’re curious and you know your curiosity is going to get you into trouble. “What is it?”

“Why exactly do you want me to tell the world you’re looking for him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Instead of getting mad at your lie, Morgans leans forward, a hungry gleam in his eyes at having someone to challenge him.

“In the same way that you had no idea we’re still on the record?”

He’s onto you. He has been the whole time. His eyes are locked onto your face and you meet his piercing gaze, the two of you staring at each other in challenge.

You press your lips together, considering all your options. If you just deny it, or even if you just admit it, the game is over.

If you want his help, you need to give him something real.

“Off the record,” you start, and you don’t keep going until he finally reaches over and turns off all the equipment, “I’m not looking for him. I just need… specific people to think I am.”

You’re expecting Morgans to say something to that, to press you until you give him enough information to figure out which specific people you’re talking about, but he just stares at you with an intensity that means you’ve already said too much. But you don’t know how much more vague you could have possibly been.

He can’t have already figured out what you’re after, can he? You’ve barely said anything.

“While we’re off the record…” Morgans sets his pen down for the first time since the interview began, turning to fix you with his full attention, “If I publish that… it would put Blue in an awful lot of danger, now wouldn’t it?”

It takes you a second to process what he’s saying, but when you do, your head snaps up and you stare at him in shock.

“…what did you just say?”

Did he seriously just say… as much as you can’t process it, it makes sense, how else would he manage all this? (Plus he recognized your sword from pretty much nothing).

Morgans stares at you for a while and you can’t look away because you can see the wheels turning in his mind. Finally, his beak closes.

“Ah…” he finally says, “Rouge.”

Your heart stops.

“So that’s what this has all been about,” Morgans muses, stroking his chin with the longest feathers at the ends of his wings. He turns back to the notebook, fingers sifting through the pages as he absentmindedly transforms back. When he tugs another bounty poster free, you can’t help but lean forward to get a better look as he sets it on the table between you.

Portgas D. Ace.

You’re not sure if you’re even still breathing. Even if he’s telling the truth and he really was a Roger pirate, that’s still a huge leap he just made.

“If anyone could manage it, it would be that woman,” the former member of the last Pirate King’s crew nods. His voice is rougher than you’ve heard it, eyes suddenly taking on a glossy sheen, and your Haki aches in sympathy with his grief. Morgans studies the picture of your big brother like he wants to seize the past and jump right back into it. “Who else knows?”

“My dad,” you answer. Maybe you shouldn’t be telling him all this, but he trusted you with his secret. You’re not the Emperor’s Daughter and Big News Morgans anymore. You’re just two people protecting the same secret. “As far as I know, that’s the only person he told.”

“The only person?” Morgans repeats. You don’t look away.

“No one told me,” you confirm without looking away. Morgans inhales sharply and looks at you with even sharper eyes.

“You’re clever,” he says, “That’s a very dangerous thing to be in this world.”

There’s nothing for you to say to that. So you don’t.

“Your journal,” Morgans announces suddenly, “Let me see it.”

You give him a long, searching look, instantly on guard from the suspicious request.

“Excuse me?”

“My sources informed me that you’ve always kept a journal. I find it highly unlikely that you would have left your father’s ship without one, particularly if it contained any of your plans. Am I wrong?”

Fuck, you need to stop being surprised by how much he knows about you. It’s intensely freaky.

“No,” you answer shortly. Morgans grins—small but victorious and honestly, you prefer it to some of the other looks he’s given you. He’s easier to read when he’s winning. “Why do you want to see it?”

Morgans tilts his head at you and spreads his wings, gesturing to the journalist equipment spread on the table around you.

“I would never publish anything without a source. And since I’m not particularly interested in either your father or the entire world government knocking at my door, you were never here. Hence, your journal, which you left behind as you fled Marsh Winds.”

“I’m not giving you my journal.”

“Photographs will suffice.”

You hesitate. It’s not the worst idea—as in, you’re having a hard time thinking of an objection on the spot that isn’t just the fact that you despise the idea of letting Morgans plaster pictures of your journal across the newspapers for the world to see—but there is a big flaw in his plan.

“It won’t work as a source,” you tell him.

“Why not?”

That… is going to be better answered as a demonstration. With a sharp exhale, you reach into your bag and pull out your green journal with the golden letters embossed in the cover. You place in on the table and slide it over to Morgans.

To his credit, he pauses just long enough to ensure you’re giving him permission to read it. But then he starts flipping through it and immediately realizes the problem.

“What language is this?” he demands, holding your notebook up to see the scribbles from a different angle.

“I’ve always written my journals in code. And it’s a code I made up, there’s no one else who knows it. If you write an article claiming you pulled all this stuff out of my journal, even if I write a couple pages out for you, my family will know something’s up.”

“Hmm.”

Morgans doesn’t say anything to that, he just keeps flipping through. He freezes on a page near the middle, eyes widening as his face brightens in triumph.

“Aha!”

For a second, your heart skips a beat because there is so much information in that journal that you should not know, including everything you remember about Imu and the secrets of the Void Century.

“There’s pictures,” Morgans says, putting the notebook down and jamming his winged limb down onto the page. He’s pointing at one of your sketches—one of the rare moments you caught Izou with his hair down and had to capture the scene—and you can feel the gears turning in his head. “Even if I couldn’t read a word of it, I’d still suspect the dozens of sketches of one man might be relevant.”

It takes you a second to figure out what he’s saying and your eyes widen as it clicks. Morgans turns Buggy’s bounty poster around.

“Draw,” Morgans orders, pushing your open journal back on the table, still facing him, “Remember, this is quantity over quality. The more the better.”

When he sets the book down, some of the pages flip backwards. Morgans glances down at it and his face twists in confusion. You glance down and your face flushes bright red when you see it landed on a full-page sketch you did.

“I wasn’t aware the Fourth Division Commander had eaten a Devil Fruit,” Morgans comments, using one winged hand to hold the book open as you try unsuccessfully to pry your journal back.

“He didn’t,” you blush even worse because it’s a stupid sketch but you’ve had nothing but time to kill and you never thought anyone would see it. Morgans is looking at your stupid drawing of Thatch with a Cockroach fruit, using his two extra arms to become “Quadruple-Blade Thatch, name pending” (God, why did you give it a caption???? And of course, that’s the only thing you didn’t write in code), with two antennae sticking out next to his pompadour and set of folded roachy wings behind his back to form a cape. Thatch was so worried about becoming a cockroach man and it’s his fault for giving you the stupid idea in the first place and you miss him so badly that there might as well be a hole in your chest so what else were you supposed to do? “It’s an inside joke.”

“I see. As it happens, I am aware of the location of the Cockroach Zoan Fruit, I’d be more than happy to trade for the information.”

You nearly choke. Fuck no, you saw enough roaches in your summer job working at that candy store downtown for a dozen lifetimes, if Thatch eats a bug fruit, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to hug him again.

“Pass. Hard pass. It’s actually not physically possible for me to pass hard enough.”

“Suit yourself,” Morgans shrugs, although you’ve figured out his sense of humor well enough to know that he’s enjoying the joke at your expense. He turns the book around and flips to a new page at random before tapping the paper. “Buggy. Draw.”

Ikkaku sniggers as Uni whacks his head on the doorframe as he follows her into the supply depot.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles, rubbing at the big red welt forming on his forehead.

“You should put your bandana higher, it’ll cover that,” Ikkaku teases. Uni rolls his eyes and rubs pathetically at his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, Ikkaku winces. He whacked his head hard and now there’s a big red lump on his forehead.

Uni catches sight of himself in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall of the shop and his mouth drops open in dismay.

“Give me your hat!” he demands, and lots of experience has Ikkaku dancing out of the way before he can snatch her hat off her head and ruin an entire evening’s worth of her curl care routine.

“Hands to yourself!”

“Give it or I’ll tell Captain you used the last compression pads and didn’t tell anyone!”

“HA, nice try! I already bought more!”

Uni scowls and his annoyance makes the red welt on his face stand out even more.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“Cover my next three night shifts.”

“Two.”

“Four.”

“Two and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Ikkaku considers.

“Two and you cover my whole tab tonight.”

“Done.”

Ikkaku carefully pulls her hat off and hands it over. Uni jams the hat over his head, pulling the front down to cover the welt, while Ikkaku uses a nearby mirror to smooth her own hair down and fight the oncoming frizz as best as she can. It’s a losing battle already but two fewer night shifts makes it worth the hassle.

“Alright, we should have enough for everything,” Uni says, pulling out the list Captain gave them before sending them off to the medical supply depot. “If we’re short, he said we can hold off on sanitizer for a little while. He’s still got that other stuff in the back—”

He cuts off as he notices that Ikkaku has making tiny hand gestures at him. She leans forward, picking up a roll of bandages and pretending to examine them as she gives Uni a better look at the mirror.

They’re being followed. She wasn’t sure at first but she’s been noticing more than just eyes following them. Marines follow them sometimes but they’re easy to spot. This is different.

“I forgot the list,” Uni exclaims loudly, patting down his pockets like he’s looking for the piece of paper he was holding just seconds before.

“Aw, we’ll have to come back later,” Ikkaku sighs, putting the bandages down. The two of them turn and head for the door, both of them paying rapt attention to the men lingering near the back of the store. They make no move to follow them.

Ikkaku might not have been a Heart Pirate for long, but she knows a trap when she sees one. She and Uni lock eyes and nod. She reaches into her pocket for her sea stone knife (a gift from her grandmother who’d warned her not to let any men push her around), watching Uni do the same for his weapon.

Carefully, the two of them leave the store.

It’s quiet. Ikkaku knows that Kortsmuth has seen its share of trouble but the Heart pirates arrived quietly and without any drama. They usually manage to keep a low profile half the time… at least until Captain inevitably finds trouble to drag them into, which Ikkaku is not ashamed to admit she loves. She became a pirate to get away from her boring island (and the other reason but why bother drudging up bad memories?), she lives for the adventure of it all.

There’s no warning. One second, she and Uni are carefully picking their way down the streets, watching their backs with every step they take until they can find a private spot to call the Tang and warn them about trouble. The next second, pirates swarm.

Ikkaku counted five before. One man in a blue tunic when they first passed through town and split off from Clione, Mertens and Hakugan. Another man with a long beard braided with bits of sea glass. And then the three from the supply depot.

There’s not five now. There’s at least ten pirates on top of her and another dozen attacking Uni, with a frankly ridiculous number of other pirates filling the street and sending any remaining civilians fleeing in terror. Ikkaku tries her best to fight back but her best isn’t much when she’s so outnumbered and her attackers are so much stronger, and it only takes a few seconds before her knife is wrenched out of her grip and she’s on the ground.

The pirates throw her and Uni down in a dark room and slam the door behind them. Ikkaku glowers, blinking away the blood dripping down from the shallow cut over her eye, and she does her best to worm around to a better position which is easier said than done when she’s hogtied with a gag around her mouth. Uni is unconscious and she’d be a lot more worried about him if his breathing wasn’t so steady. This should maybe not be her priority right now but she’s very relieved to see that he didn’t lose her hat.

There’s a groan in the darkness behind her and she freezes because she knows that sound anywhere. It takes all her upper body and core strength, but Ikkaku eventually manages to spin herself around and roll over, clumsily landing on the body behind her.

Shachi groans again and Ikkaku’s eyes fly open in shock.

It’s not just her and Uni that have been captured. She’s lying on top of Shachi—tied up just like she and Uni are—and in the darkness, it takes her a second to recognize Penguin without his hat. Behind them is every other crewmate who left the ship after they docked.

Ikkaku tries her best to shimmy off her crewmate because his breathing is shallower and faster than it should be and this is bad enough without accidentally hurting him worse and he nods at her gratefully. She tosses her head, trying to ask him if he’s okay, and he gives her a nod. They’re both gagged so there’s not much else they can do. She tries to wiggle a hand free but the pirates who tied her up seriously know their knots.

The only good thing is that there’s no sign of Captain. Or Bepo. Or any of the crewmates still on shift. They’re not totally screwed yet.

Very screwed, yes. But there’s still a chance.

The door opens and bright light spills into the cell, blinding her for the few seconds it takes for pirates to file inside. They’re not the ones that jumped her and Uni and that’s a problem because her count of enemies is now well over forty, which is definitely bigger than any individual crew the Hearts have pissed off so far.

A man steps forward, authority and power radiating off him, second only to the cold fury burning in his eyes. He looks down at his prisoners, scanning over the faces of the semi-conscious Hearts with nothing short of hatred. Ikkaku shivers at the look on his face and wracks her brain to try and figure out what they might have done to cause that look.

“Her,” the man orders and Ikkaku’s heart stops as he points right at her. But she grits her teeth around the gag, glaring furiously at the pirates who grab her and drag her away from the pile of her trussed-up crewmates. If they think she’s an easy target just because she’s a girl, they’ve got a nasty surprise coming.

Ikkaku does her best to fight as she’s shoved roughly into a chair and the pirate captain looms over her.

“Ikkaku,” the pirate rumbles in a voice that sets all of her nerves on edge because he knows her by name??? “Most of your crew comes from the North Blue. But you’re from Paradise. Schuyler Town, correct?”

Ikkaku swallows nervously.

“Quite a coincidence,” the man says, “I am too.”

Ikkaku is well aware of that. Captain Andre is the most famous pirate to ever come from her island, which was a source of both pride and scorn for the old farts that did their best to raise her.

Andre reaches over and unties the gag, unnervingly gentle for the dangerous rage burning behind his eyes. The other pirates filling the cell stay silent but she can feel them glaring at her with all their might.

Ikkaku has absolutely no idea what she did to piss them off so badly but her confusion only grows because she knows what Captain Andre’s Jolly Roger looks like and it’s not the mark that most of the pirates are wearing.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” she warns them, and she’s aware that threatening him is a bad idea but she knows that Law won’t let the kidnapping of nearly his entire crew slide, “When Captain finds out—”

“Trafalgar Law, former member of the Donquijote Family, wielder of the Op-Op Fruit, rising Supernova and member of the Worst Generation. We’re well aware of his capabilities. If he hasn’t already been contained, he will be soon.”

“Captain Kinga’s moving on him now,” one of the pirates behind Ikkaku reports. Her blood freezes but she quickly has bigger problems as the pirate in front of her snaps his fingers to pull her attention back.

“Do you know who I am?” Captain Andre asks. Ikkaku nods stiffly. “Good. Then we can skip all the gory details.”

A flash of fear runs down her spine, her stomach filling with ice water with the emphasis on gory.

“What have you done with our sister?”

The cell goes silent. The Heart pirates that are still conscious stop their muffled protesting to stare and Ikkaku’s brain scrambles to try and catch up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Edward Alexandria,” Andre practically spits, “Ring a bell?”

Of course it does, there’s not a person on the planet who hasn’t heard of the Emperor’s Daughter, but what does that have to do…

“Yeah, of course, but—” Ikkaku starts to answer but she cuts off as the temperature of the room nosedives and she’s suddenly so cold her teeth are chattering as she squeaks out, “—why would I know?!”

Andre exhales slowly, his face nearly emotionless. It’s a stark contrast to the growing bloodthirst of the pirates surrounding them. She suddenly figures out the common link between her kidnappers. They’re all part of Whitebeard’s fleet.

Oh god. Why do they think—they can’t think the Hearts had anything to do with her disappearance, can they???

“You can play dumb if you like,” Andre warns her, “But in your current position, that’s highly inadvisable.”

“I’m not playing anything!” Ikkaku protests, trying not to panic at the threat and also trying to ignore the way the ropes just get tighter the more she struggles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Andre’s face twitches.

“Alright,” he says quietly, and then he’s sitting down across from her in a chair that seems to appear from nowhere. “Let’s start at the beginning then. The Heart Pirates were on Marsh Winds Island.”

He stops and fixes her with an expectant look and it takes her a few seconds to realize that he’s waiting for an answer.

“Y… yes.”

She’s expecting Andre to say something else to that but the veteran pirate captain just keeps staring at her. He’s waiting for something and Ikkaku has no idea what. Behind her, Shachi and the others are yelling out through their gags but the sounds are just garbled gibberish.

Ikkaku looks behind her shoulder as best as she can but none of the other pirates are saying anything. She looks back at Andre a little desperately.

“What do you want me to say? Yes, we were! But that’s it, we didn’t do anything! Especially not to your sister, I swear!”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened. Everything, from the beginning.”

Ikkaku—very aware of the danger she and her crewmates are in—starts at the beginning. She tells them about Captain’s orders to lie low and avoid any attention after the bounty-raising incident on the previous island, how she and Mertens and Claxon and Hakugan had gotten into a fight with some bandits on the island and hid the unconscious would-be thieves somewhere the Marines wouldn’t find them so they wouldn’t get in trouble with Captain again (and she knows that Shachi would be laughing his head off in any other situation, his glowering silence is more unnerving than being captured in the first place). They’d made it back to the sub, congratulating themselves on their subtle handling of the situation, when Uni had pointed over the side of the Tang and asked that fateful question, ‘Isn’t that Bepo?’

It was Bepo, being chased by yet another mob.

“So Captain pulled him onto the ship with his fruit and we left before they could start chasing us. Then we sailed here.”

Andre waits and Ikkaku shifts. What else do they want her to say? Shachi is even louder now, flailing his head from side to side and practically shouting through his gag. Andre glances over at him in indifference before turning his attention back to Ikkaku.

“Is that all?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous. Ikkaku nods as fervently as she can. Andre’s frown deepens. “Your friend seems to think otherwise. So I’ll ask you again, are you sure that’s all you have to tell me?”

“I…” Ikkaku starts, wracking her brain to try and remember. She’d been hoping that Bepo getting in trouble would distract Captain from asking what she and the others had gotten up to and then Bepo’s friend had— WAIT! “Well, there was Bepo’s friend, but she wasn’t… she had nothing to do with it, she just got caught up in Bepo’s mess so we gave her a lift!”

“Bepo’s friend.” Andre repeats.

Ikkaku nods so hard her hair falls all over her face and she can’t move it away with her hands bound. So she tosses her head as best as she can.

“Yeah, they’re old friends from Zou or something, I’m not really sure. But he was so excited to run into her and he felt bad about getting her caught up when he got caught stealing fruit again—”

“When he what.”

Ikkaku’s face flushes bright red.

“Bepo steals fruit,” she tattles, panic overriding her ability to not run her mouth, “We’re trying to get him to stop because he keeps getting caught and run out of town but Captain always falls for his puppy eyes—”

“You thought the entire island was chasing after a fruit thief?”

Ikkaku’s mouth falls open.

“Uh… was it… were they… not?”

Silence falls over the cell. It’s a very long and uncomfortable silence. Andre is having a long and silent conversation with the pirates standing behind her back and she has no idea what they’re saying.

“Your captain pulled your navigator and your navigator’s… friend back to the ship,” Andre finally says.

Ikkaku nods.

“What then?”

“Uh, well… captain agreed to give her a ride around the island back to her ship.”

“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Andre repeats and Ikkaku doesn’t think he believes a word she’s saying. She starts to nod and then shrugs helplessly because she knows Captain’s reputation isn’t particularly kind and the combination of sweat dripping down her back and blood dripping down her face make it really hard to forget that her crewmates’ lives are on the line. Also her life.

“I mean, any friend of Bepo is… Bepo was so excited to see her and that helps but she also had this book she gave him, captain doesn’t have any family left but she had this book his grandpa—great grandpa,” Ikkaku corrects quickly, “wrote and she just gave it to him. So we just took the long way around the island and dropped her off at her ship. That’s it, I swear! We didn’t see your sister anywhere!”

Another very long pause. Ikkaku gulps nervously, twisting her bound wrists behind her back and trying to get any of the circulation back.

“Describe her to me.”

Ikkaku does. She goes into great detail, including everything she remembers about the woman from her short hair and flawless makeup to the breathlessness from running giving way to friendly confidence that made it effortless to warm up to her. She’s careful to emphasize—several times—that the woman’s name was definitely not Alexandria and that yes, she was short, but she can’t possibly have been that young, not with the way she and Law had gone on for almost forty minutes about cryoglobulinemia and complications of vasculitis in geriatric populations. No wonder she didn’t need that textbook anymore, as far as Ikkaku could tell, she’d memorized the whole thing cover to cover. And it claimed to be a basic textbook, yeah right. Ikkaku had gotten lost after the third chapter on the single occasion Captain let her look inside.

“And her ship?”

Ikkaku describes that too; it was bigger than she’d been expecting considering that the woman hadn’t mentioned traveling with anyone, but it was a reasonable size for a ship traveling the Grand Line. Ikkaku had just assumed that the rest of the crew was still on the island. The sails were simple canvas, no insignias or Jolly Rogers in sight, and the flags were the simple white that indicated a sailing vessel.

“And her Sea King?”

Ikkaku blinks.

“Her what? I don’t… I didn’t see any sea kings.” When nobody says anything in response to that, Ikkaku strains to look Andre in the eyes as she swears, “That’s it, I promise. She said goodbye to everyone, Captain sent her to her ship, and we headed out. That’s it. Last I saw, she was waving at us from the deck. Then we went under. I swear, that’s it! If that really was… if there’s any way that was your sister, I swear, we didn’t do anything to her! And we definitely didn’t kidnap her or take her or whatever you think we did! I swear on our flag!”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything else because Andre waves his hand and another pirate comes up from behind her to gag her again. It’s a clean rag at least, not the blood and dirt-covered one that Andre tossed on the floor earlier.

The Allied Captain of the Whitebeard Fleet steps closer to her until Ikkaku can’t breathe from sudden terror that they don’t believe her.

“Listen to me carefully. There’s only two ways you Hearts survive this. The first is that I find my sister safe and sound aboard your crew’s submarine and you lied through your Haki to protect her because she convinced your captain to hide her,” Andre threatens and Ikkaku can tell he means every single word. But with the gag back in her mouth, she can’t protest in any way that matters. “The other is that your captain can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt to me and my brothers that everything you just told me is the truth.”

Andre shifts her until the only thing Ikkaku can see is his face.

“Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe that you’ve done your best to tell me the truth. In appreciation for your candor, I’m going to make you an offer. If you were lying to me, and you’re holding my sister hostage on your ship, I am giving you one chance to tell me exactly where she is. And when we find her alive and unharmed, I promise I will give you the quickest and most painless death I am capable of. Because if you don’t, if you’re lying to me or you or your crew has laid so much as a finger on her, well…”

Ikkaku can see her own breath when panic drives it from her lungs. The cell is so freezing she’s losing feeling in her fingers and toes.

“I have five thousand brothers and sisters. You Hearts will suffer until every last one of us has had our fill of your agony, do you understand me?”

Ikkaku’s heart thuds inside her chest as the threat lands hard.

“Now,” Andre warns one more time as he leans in close enough that she can feel the ice radiating off his skin, “Do you have anything else to tell me?”

Summoning every last ounce of her willpower, Ikkaku glares at him.

Andre nods once.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Andre says, and it might just be Ikkaku’s desperate imagination but she wants to believe that some of the coldness is gone. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that I truly hope this has all just been a misunderstanding.”

Ikkaku gulps as he picks her up by the arms and returns her back to the ground next to Shachi. Uni is awake now and flailing in his bonds as hard as he can. Which isn’t much.

“There’s nothing else we need from you for now,” Andre tells them as the other Whitebeards begin silently filing out of the cell, “I’ll be back after I’ve… spoken with your captain. If you told me the truth, you have nothing to worry about.”

With that, the cell door slams shut, leaving Ikkaku and her crewmates tied up in complete darkness.

Chapter Text

“Trafalgar Law?” an unfamiliar voice calls. Law tenses, flicking Kikoku just the tiniest bit out of her sheath for easier drawing.

“Who’s asking?” Law drawls, turning around lazily. The man stands in the middle of the field by himself, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Law’s grip tightens around Kikoku as he recognizes the brown hair that sticks nearly straight up into the air and the thin pointed mustache on his face.

“The name’s Kinga. You may have heard it before,” the man says coldly with confidence that unfortunately isn’t arrogance; Law has been preparing for the New World as they approach Sabaody and Kinga is one of the most famous allies to Whitebeard’s Fleet, right up there with the Ice Witch Whitey Bay and Islewan the Walrus.

“I might have,” Law answers. His eyes flick around, taking in their surroundings. They’re in a big open field; Law heard rumors that Kortsmuth is home to an unusual species of flora that can be used to make a particularly strong neurotoxin and he ventured out alone to check it out. He’s got lots of room to maneuver, but not very many objects to work with.

“Good. I won’t waste time then,” Kinga answers. His eyes lock onto Law’s and there’s a flash of something that makes Law’s skin crawl; it’s the exact feeling of being cornered by a predator and as much as Law appreciates knowing who he’s up against, his palms are prickling because the Heart Pirates might be strong for Paradise but this man has been sailing the New World for almost forty years. “Where is she.”

Law eyes him with unease. The other captain clearly knows who he is. He expects Law to know exactly who he’s talking about. Law doesn’t believe for a second that the older pirate will accept any variation of “I don’t know who you’re talking about” even if it’s true.

Especially because the look in Kinga’s eyes is intimately familiar. Even if he hasn’t felt it a long, long time, he would recognize his greatest failure anywhere.

That’s the look of an older brother who would rip the world apart for his little sister.

Law’s blood runs cold.

He was right. She did look familiar. Edward Alexandria’s face has only been plastered on every bounty poster and newspaper on every island they’ve stopped at for months. Her disguise is very, very good; not just in appearance, but in how she acts and speaks and holds herself.

But Law suddenly understands exactly what this is about and his heart begins to race because Kinga is just one member of a very, very, very large fleet of pirates and if anyone saw him Shamble her onto the Tang alongside Bepo…

He needs to find his crew. He needs to find his crew right now.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Law looks Kinga in the eyes and asks, “Will you believe me if I tell you this isn’t what it looks like?”

Kinga fixes him with a glare so cold Law feels his stomach drop. He reaches into the pouch at his side and pulls something out, tossing it at Law where it lands in the dirt with a clatter. There’s a rush of adrenaline as Law keeps his gaze fixed on the enemy pirate, flexing the fingers of his other hand and preparing to call a Room as he does his best to ignore the sea stone cuffs.

“Get on your knees and put those on, and I’ll consider the possibility.”

Not happening.

“I gave her a lift,” Law tells him, muscles tensing as he prepares to move, “I won’t deny that she was on my ship. But we dropped her off and left. That’s all.”

“With a two hundred million Berry bounty on her head,” the Whitebeard pirate says flatly, “That tracks with your reputation for generosity.”

Law grits his teeth and shifts his stance.

“I’ll only ask one more time,” Kinga says quietly. The threat is deafening. “Where is my sister?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

Kinga tilts his head.

“Wrong answer.”

He reaches for his sword and Law doesn’t let him get any farther.

“ROOM!”

At Law’s shout, his enemy and the field around them are encompassed by his Room. He slashes out with Kikoku, aiming at Kinga’s chest to cut the other pirate clean in half. There’s no room for hesitation or mercy, he needs to end this as fast as he can and go find his crew.

The slash flies faster than sound and Kinga doesn’t move. Law’s eyes widen in shock and he throws himself out of the way, hissing in pain as the counter strike catches him in the shoulder. Law rolls where he lands, ignoring the sting and the blood leaking from the shallow cut on his shoulder as he slams Kikoku up to catch the blade coming down at his head.

In a single move, faster than Law could see with his eyes, Kinga drew his sword, countered an invisible attack and launched a sword strike that somehow cut Law’s arm from a dozen yards away, all before charging him with a slash that would’ve taken Law’s head off. It’s only because they’re still inside Law’s Operating Room that he could tell where the strike was coming from.

“You’re strong for a Rookie,” Kinga observes, and he looks like he’s barely pressing down but it’s taking all of Law’s strength to keep their blades locked. He digs his heels in and grunts, pressing Kikoku harder to hold his position. “Not too reliant on your Devil Fruit.”

Before Law can react, Kinga shoves and Law goes flying backwards. He slams through a tree back-first, his head colliding with the bark hard enough that he sees stars and all the wind gets knocked out of his lungs and splinters of wood stab through his sweatshirt. Law draws in a shallow breath, his Room alerting him to heavy bruising in his back and possible concussion but there’s no time. Kinga is already flying at him, sword pulled back, ready to take Law’s head off with a single swipe.

“SHAMBLES!” Law shouts, grabbing onto Kinga with his power and switching him with a small boulder on the other side of the field. A feeling of terror like he’s only felt a few times in his entire life—stop, focus, can’t think about that now—floods his chest as his grip… slips. It’s like Law can’t get a hold of him and at the same time he’s trying to pick up something that weighs a thousand kilos. He can’t use Shambles on him.

That’s never happened before.

Without even an instant to spare, Law changes targets and switches himself with a nearby log, reappearing a short distance away just in time to see the log explode into splinters. He’s breathing harder than he has in a long time, forcing himself to focus and not give in to panic as Kinga turns on him.

There have been some hard fights in his time as the Captain of the Heart Pirates. Huge groups of enemy pirates or Marines that overwhelm his crew and draw out the fight until his energy reserves are exhausted and even a single Room is more than he can hold. And there’ve been dangerous enemies with strange powers that he can’t defeat with his usual tricks.

But Law has never faced an enemy that was this much stronger than him. No Devil Fruit. No tricks. Just strength beyond anything Law can hope to match.

 “Having trouble?” Kinga asks. He walks towards Law at a leisurely pace, sword grasped loosely at his side.

“Why isn’t it working?!” Law demands furiously as he pushes himself back to his feet and tries not to look like the prey they both know he is. “How are you doing that?”

“I gave you a chance to do this the easy way,” the pirate ignores Law’s questions as he moves closer and closer.

“TACT!” Law shouts, throwing three logs and a fallen tree at him. Kinga’s sword rises in a graceful arc and the motion is so effortless it’s almost lazy. The logs fall apart into hewn planks that slam down around them in a steady rhythm, perfectly in time with each of Kinga’s steps.

Kikoku slashes out in a series of cuts that would chop the average Marine into a hundred little pieces. Kinga locks eyes with Law and lets his sword fly, parrying and countering every single slash like he knows exactly where they’re going to hit, advancing on him with every step.

Law swallows, his chest heaving. He looks around, trying to find anything that might slow the pirate down and give him a chance to run, but he’s seen how fast the other man moves.

“You can run if you like,” Kinga invites as he parries the last of the slashes, his body still completely intact. The tiny slash on Law’s shoulder stings and his Room isn’t working right to stop the bleeding. “In fact, I’d prefer if you do. I’ve always enjoyed the chase.”

“I don’t know where your sister is!” Law shouts, gripping Kikoku tightly as he braces himself.

“We thought you might say that. After all, your crew said the same thing.”

Law’s eyes widen in horror and he shouts, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY CREW?!”

“They’ve been secured,” Kinga says, “As well as—”

“THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, SECURED?! I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU BASTARDS HURT THEM—”

Kinga doesn’t move. One second, he’s slowly walking across the field and the next, his palm is around Law’s throat like a metal clamp that tightens until his airway is completely cut off. Law chokes and tries to Shamble himself out of the grip but just like before, he can’t get a hold of himself through whatever the other pirate is doing. He struggles as much as he can but Kinga is stronger.

His Room flickers once and then falls.

“You’re still alive because there’s a chance they’re telling the truth,” Kinga says so quietly it’s almost a whisper. Law glares at him with enough fury to kill a lesser man. Unfortunately, the New World veteran is anything but lesser. “You’ll have your chance to plead your case to Pops.”

Law can’t say anything to that because he’s out of air and his attempts to escape the grip are down to clawing feebly at the hand around his neck and it’s not enough to keep the black spots from appearing in his vision. Kinga leans in and mutters something so softly that it takes Law’s oxygen-deprived brain a few seconds to process it. Seconds he doesn’t have, the human body can only remain conscious for so long without any air and it’s been thirty seconds already. Carbon dioxide is already building up inside his lungs.

“I hope you understand: there is nothing we wouldn’t do to protect her.”

Law blacks out.

“Thank you for your account,” the snail says after Law finishes explaining everything, from docking on Marsh Winds all the way to disembarking here on Kortsmuth and leaving the Tang under Bepo’s command.

“Fuck you!” Trafalgar Law snarls at it for the fourth time. Maybe fifth. He’s too pissed off to keep track anymore.

“I apologize for my sons’ rough treatment of you and your crew,” the Pirate Emperor responds calmly, unbothered by the Rookie’s anger, “But I can take no chances when it comes to my daughter’s safety.”

“We didn’t hurt her!” Law shouts yet again. Every time he thinks he’s gotten his emotions under control, his eyes fall on Bepo’s unconscious body lying on the floor of the Polar Tang’s control room and he loses it all over again. There’s no sign of Penguin or Shachi and he can’t handle even considering the possibility that his oldest friends are already dead. But thanks to the sea stone cuffs, there’s not much more he can do than yell, “We didn’t even know it was her! But if you hurt my crew, I swear—”

“Every member of your crew is alive and accounted for,” the first voice— Commander Haruta—cuts Law off, “Eleven of them are currently unconscious, including your first mate Bepo. A few of them have minor injuries, but nothing worse than small cuts and bruising. No broken limbs or serious wounds.”

Kinga, the captain who’d attacked him and shown Law just how unprepared he still was to face the New World, crosses his arms over his chest and speaks directly to the snail.

“We searched every inch of their sub, inside and out. Got the plans too, they matched up. No hidden rooms or storage lockers. There’s no sign of her or any other captives, Pops.”

Andre, the captain who’d shown up after Law had regained consciousness as a hostage on his own ship, nods.

“I grilled the girl hard,” Andre says and Law’s eyes widen in fear that these bastards tortured Ikkaku and he couldn’t do anything to protect her, “There’s a few inconsistencies with what Trafalgar says, but everything else lines up. Including the textbook.”

There’s a huff of air on the other end of the transponder snail.

“Just like Ace said, yoi,” a new voice adds, sounding more incredulous than Law is comfortable with.

“We didn’t hurt her.” Law grinds out through clenched teeth. The room is silent, the Allied Captains staring expectantly at the snail as they wait for judgement.

“I believe you,” Whitebeard says with finality. His next words are directed at his subordinates, “Release them.”

Law blinks in surprise as the pirates move without any hesitation. It takes three of the pirates to untie Bepo’s bonds, while the others untie Clione and the others. Clione looks at Law in a silent question, asking what to do but Law is too distracted as Kinga unlocks Law’s handcuffs and removes them.

“The Hearts are free to go,” Andre says into a mini transponder snail.

“Where are they?!” Law hisses, fury building to a boiling point. All he wants to do is slice these bastards into pieces but he already knows how that will go. He’s too weak.

He needs to get stronger.

“They’re on my ship,” the third captain—Drock something—says, “They’re being released now, my crew will offer them any medical aid they may need.”

“Like hell they will!” Law spits, his rage smoldering like embers underneath the surface of his skin, “I want my people back and I want you bastards off my sub!”

“We aren’t finished,” Whitebeard declares.

“Yes we fucking are,” Law snarls, raising his hand in preparation for summoning the most powerful Room he’s capable of. He might not be able to use his powers on any of them, but the Tang is his sub and it’s stocked to the gills with medical equipment and powerful drugs and otherwise painful and paralytic agents. “Tell your men to get the hell off my ship before I—"

“We are not done.”

There’s a heavy weight to the words, one that makes all of Whitebeard’s subordinates square their shoulders in preparation to enforce their captain’s orders. Law bites back a curse because he couldn’t beat even one of the Allied Captains on his own and now there’s three of them and they’re ready to fight. Plus all the other Whitebeard pirates on his precious submarine that he can’t risk damaging.

“What the hell do you still want?!” Law demands furiously, “You already attacked me and my crew, interrogated my people, invaded and ransacked my ship, and accused me of hurting a child!”

He’s a little surprised by how much that last part pisses him off. Law knows he doesn’t have the best reputation—okay, he’s aware that he has a reputation for being a bloodthirsty and sadistic psychopath—but for how much the Whitebeards know about him and his crew, he’s more than a little insulted that they think he’d hurt a little girl.

And sure, fourteen isn’t that little, god knows he was doing fucked-up shit way younger than that, but the thought of it still doesn’t sit right with him.

“What else do you possibly want?!”

“To apologize,” the Emperor returns evenly.

“Go fuck yourself.”

The Whitebeards bristle but none of them interrupt. Clione gulps and hides behind Bepo, who’s finally awake but evidently decided that playing unconscious is the best move. It’s a good instinct; the last thing Law wants is for his crew to be back in the line of fire. All of their attention can stay on him.

“You have every right to be angry,” Whitebeard agrees and the way he’s talking just makes Law even angrier because he wants every last pirate off his ship so he can go find his crew and make sure they’re okay. “I can’t apologize for taking decisive action to ensure my daughter’s safety given the information we had and your reputation. But I am aware this was no small error. I take full responsibility.”

“Good for you,” Law sneers.

“It may not be the resolution I was hoping for, but the fact remains. You were a friend to my daughter in her time of need. For that alone, I am in your debt. In combination with the actions of my sons, I owe you a great debt.”

“You want to do me a favor?” Law snarls, and for a suicidal instant he wishes the bastard was here in front of him so he had a target to take his anger out on. Dying by trying to cut an Emperor’s head off is a death he could be proud of. “I want Doflamingo’s head on a plate!”

Silence falls over the Polar Tang. Stunned silence, the kind where everyone in the room is staring at him in shock that he has the gall to demand something so outrageous and impossible.

“That seems a fair price.”

Law doesn’t know who’s more shocked. His own crew, the invading Whitebeards, or Law himself.

“Pops, he’s a Warlord!” Haruta protests, “Not to mention that going after Joker means war with Kaido!”

“Since when does the government have any say in my actions?” Whitebeard rumbles so sternly that even Law feels chastised. Evidently it’s enough to remind the commander that he’s arguing with his captain in front of a rival pirate crew because Haruta doesn’t say anything else. “We’ve sat by and watched that bastard commit atrocities for too long. I’m happy to have an excuse to deal with that despicable menace once and for all.”

“Are…” Law chokes out, stumbling over the words in a way he hasn’t done since… since Cora-san.

Instantly, the room turns until everyone is looking at him. Law only has eyes for the transponder snail, those piercing eyes watching him calmly over the crescent mustache.

“Are you serious?”

“I gave you my word, son. I don’t do that lightly.”

Law’s throat suddenly goes dry and he can only stare at the snail in shock. For the last eleven years, finding a way to kill Doflamingo has been his only goal, one he’s determined to see through even if it kills him. Even though it’s suicide. Even though it will kill him.

He’s been planning for years and he’s pretty sure his best shot is to try and sabotage Joker’s arrangement with Kaido, and that’s still a pipe dream even if he can figure out a way to get himself declared a Warlord.

But Whitebeard…

He’s the Strongest Man in the World. Captain of the largest and most powerful pirate fleet in existence. He’s the only living rival of the King of the Pirates. The man who possesses the power to destroy the world.

He has the power to kill Doflamingo. And he’s just given Law his word, in front of both of their subordinate crews. The Tang rocks suddenly and Law stumbles and it’s not until he sees Bepo and Clione staring at him in worry that he realizes the ship hasn’t moved at all.

“Let me be clear,” Whitebeard says plainly, “I have given you my word and I intend to make good on that. But finding my daughter is my first and only priority at the moment. There are an endless number of people who would wish to do her harm or leverage her safety against me. She is incredibly clever and resourceful beyond her years, but I swear to you, she would never deliberately put a friend in harm’s way. I am in no position to ask anything of you, but I must anyway. Please, do not hold this incident against her.”

He's never been so dizzy in his life. All he can think of are ghosts; Cora-san burning down hospitals that refused to see him, his parents watching Lami waste away in her hospital bed, piles and piles of dead bodies as everything Law ever knew burned away.

What would he have done to save Lami?

Law barely even has a chance to think the question before any hatred he has for the Emperor crumbles to ash.

“Why… why did she run away?” Law can’t help but ask.

“I don’t know,” Whitebeard answers heavily and Law might still be absolutely pissed off but part of him feels a little… something for the grief and exhaustion in the old man’s voice.

“Okay.”

Law breathes in once, holds it for a few seconds, and then breathes out.

“I can forgive you for this,” Law’s voice is so steady it surprises even him, “once Doflamingo is dead. But until then… I’m going to help you find her.”

Morgans works fast.

It’s only a few days later when the paper comes out and this time, you’re just loading up the last of your supplies so that you have a fully stocked ship that can go weeks without needing to stop at an island where you might be recognized again. And there it is, the exclusive update to the case of the Emperor’s Missing Daughter.

Aw fuck.

Did you really forget to tell him ixnay on the new nickname???

“For Want of a Clown! The Pirate Princess in Search of her Jester?”

Oy fucking vey.

You abandon your plans to finish loading and immediately set sail in favor of whistling up at Earl (you’re finally making progress with your two-finger whistle, you’ve had a lot of time to practice while sailing by yourself) and waving the newspaper at him.

He perks up curiously and slithers his front half up the secluded beach, curling his head back around to form a U-shape with his neck. You reach up to scratch the fur-like patch running down the back of his neck before settling into the curve with your bare feet burying themselves into the sand.

“Alright, Earl, let’s see how badly this turned out.”

Earl brays again and you roll your eyes at the clear judgement on his face.

“Okay, well if you have a better plan, I’m all ears.”

The Earl of Sandwich once again makes a pitch for you to go back to Fishman Island, and you remind him that you’re still very much being chased. He returns with the fact that that’s your fault and he’s correct about that, so you concede the point.

Earl’s tongue, as rough as sandpaper, flicks out and licks the entire length of your face.

“Ugh! Gross!” you shriek, jerking back to wipe at your saliva-soaked face, “Earl, that’s nasty!”

The Earl simply flicks his tongue out again. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. You use your shirt to wipe the rest of the drool off, then shake yourself off and reach for the paper.

“Okay, enough of that.”

There’s no picture of you this time. Just a picture of your journal and a few of the coded pages, each featuring a drawing of one Buggy the Clown. It’s startling to see it and you open your bag, glancing inside to reassure yourself that your journal is still very much in your possession.

As uneasy as it made you to let anyone see inside your journal, let alone taking pictures that the whole world is going to see, he’s right that he needed some excuse for how he found anything out about you that doesn’t involve the truth that he physically captured you and forced you to sit for an interview.

Credit to Morgans; the story is well-constructed. Even knowing that it’s complete bullshit, you can still see him finding your journal and putting the pieces together from the drawings and punctuations and arrows.

He’s very clear about the fact that it’s all just speculation since the drawings are the only legible piece. But you do not like the fact that the entire thing ends with an open request, “to anyone that may be able to decipher the symbols, which this reporter strongly suspects is a coded script, please contact the WEJ hotline.”

Strongly suspects? You told him it was a code! Fuck, if there’s even a single other person in this universe who can read shorthand… okay, no, don’t think about that. Just keep reading.

“As yet, the only person who knows the contents of these pages is the Pirate Princess herself. Wherever she may be.”

Fuck you too, Morgans. God, you can’t believe how lucky you are to have met him instead of someone worse.

Hopefully his article gives you a little breathing room.

For now, you’ve stocked your ship as full as you possibly can and you’re heading out to sea. No more unnecessary stops or talking to strangers: from now on, you are staying away from land unless you absolutely have to.

Or until it’s time.

“Here, boss,” Benn holds out his cigarette, and Shanks isn’t usually one to smoke but he takes a big drag and holds his breath until the burn in his lungs dulls the edges of his panic. The pirates on the ground twitch like squashed bugs and Shanks blows a cloud of smoke at them.

Their flag marks them as Linlin’s but he knows they’re weaklings, expendables that she sends out every now and again to test the waters. With the Whitebeards heading for Paradise, Shanks is happy to do his part to hold their borders.

Another pirate charges and Shanks doesn’t even look; a half-hearted slash from Gryphon handles him as easily as breathing. That’s not true. Breathing isn’t particularly easy right now. Not after that article.

Shanks turns away from the fight (his crew doesn’t need his help for this. Hell, they don’t even need his commanders. It’s good for his weaker fighters to get a chance to push themselves) and strides over to the edge of the cliffside where the wind blows strongly enough to splay his cape out and ruffle his hair. The scars over his eye sting and the scar just above his missing arm aches.

“What the hell are you thinking, Frog?” he mutters, his eyes searching the horizon for something he knows is impossible.

She’s looking for Buggy.

Buggy, of all people.

This is all his fault. Well that’s not fair, his little hellraiser was still the one to disappear into the night with a stolen ship and Devil Fruit, but if she’s really looking for Buggy…

He was the one to tell her all those stories. He couldn’t help it; those adorable little eyes, so innocent and so excited, transfixed by his every word and all he wanted was to dazzle her. So he told her everything; growing up on the Oro Jackson, his fearless captain and the terrifying but awe-inspiring first mate (and he may have overdone it describing Rayleigh, but between the two, there’s only one old man that could still appear without warning and drag him around by the ear), about Oden and his family, about the rest of the crew, their incredible adventures and all the amazing islands they saw. And he told her about Buggy, his brother in arms and partner in crime and best friend in the whole wide world.

And if he never mentioned how things went down between them… it wasn’t like he meant to lie to the little froggie, it was just… nice to pretend for a little while.

Shanks hears footsteps long before Benn’s shadow falls over the rock he’s sitting on.

“He won’t hurt her,” his steadfast first mate promises. Shanks shakes his head, holding out his hand for some booze or the cigarette or whatever else.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about him?”

“Buggy?” Shanks asks in bewilderment, raising his head and turning to look his friend in the eyes, “Of course not, he’ll be fine. He always is.”

“Then what?” Beckman asks as he settles on the ground next to Shanks, “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not a mind reader.”

Shanks eyes the plume of smoke rising from the end of the lit cigarette in Beckman’s mouth.

“Months with no sign of her. Then two sightings in a row and she loses her journal?” Shanks points out. They both know how protective she is over those books, Shanks got one hell of a cold shoulder the one and only time he tried getting a peek inside, “Either she’s getting sloppy or she’s running out of time.”

“What are you thinking?”

Shanks inhales again and exhales just as sharply. The real answer is that the who his Frog is looking for isn’t nearly as important as the why. That inquisitive little girl has always been fascinated by Roger. He knows that Ace warmed up to her long before he started to let anyone else through his walls.

“I think that Newgate better get his ass in gear before the Marines do,” he says instead.

It’s the middle of the afternoon—just you, Earl, and the open sea— when a high-pitched siren goes off. You flinch, grabbing your ears to cover them as you head into the cabin where the noise is much much much louder. You curse the fact that you forgot to adjust the volume and dig the snailie out of its enclosure.

You’re so focused on shutting up the awful noise that it takes you a second to realize what the call means.

“Missy? You there?” Clifton’s voice sounds exactly the same as you remember, if a little bit more staticky.

Suddenly, the cabin feels a lot colder.

“I’m here.”

“There’s a feller here lookin’ fer you. Whaddaya want me to tell him?”

“What does he look like?”

“Big feller, long dark hair, got a way about him I don’t much care for to tell you the truth.”

Your heart skips a beat while your palms go clammy and you force yourself to take a deep breath.

“That’s him,” you say. Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips because they’re suddenly much too dry. “Can you put him on?”

“Well, okay—”

“Wait. Before you do, remember that trip you were telling me about?”

“For Junior?”

“Yeah. If you’re still thinking about it, this is the time. You work hard, you all deserve a good, long break. Not just you and Sylvia and Junior, the whole town. The whole island, even!”

Clifton is quiet for a long moment.

“Missy, I’m gonna ask you one question, and I’m gonna accept whatever answer you give me. Is this man a danger to you?”

You take a deep breath and exhale as slowly as you can.

“Not to me,” you admit hoarsely; there are so many things you don’t know, so many risks and so many things that could go wrong, but that’s the one thing you’re positive about. He won’t hurt you. There’s a lot of bad things he could still do, but he doesn’t gain anything by hurting you. Clifton hears the unsaid plain as day.

“I knew you were good people,” he mutters and you exhale as the knife twists deeper in your chest. You’ve just told him that he needs to evacuate the entire island and he accepted it just like that, “How long?”

“No less than two weeks. Just to be safe.”

“I’ll spread the word. Don’t go getting yourself into any trouble, you hear me?”

“I’ll do my best. I promise.”

“Good enough,” Clifton answers, and you hear jingling as his boots echo on the wooden floors, “I’ll put the bastard on now.”

The snailie in your hand is silent. You stare down and him and he stares up at you. You’re not going to speak first.

“Where the hell are you?” Teach demands, “You said you’d meet me here.”

“I also said to come alone,” you answer quietly. The snailie grins at you and it’s not a particularly nice grin even if it is familiar.

“What do you take me for, Lex? You said to come alone, so I did.”

“Don’t say my name,” you respond quietly.

“Fine, whatever you want. Where are you?”

“I’m a week out. Meet me in the clearing below the largest spire just before noon. We’ll do it then. Come alone or it’s off.”

There’s a long pause and you can feel Teach seething; you don’t blame him. It’s been months since you left the Moby and the Devil Fruit he’s been searching for his entire life is just out of reach. You’re not trying to taunt him, though.

“You better not try anything,” Teach’s voice is as dark as you’ve ever heard it, and if you didn’t already believe that some fruits choose their user, that threat alone would be enough to convince you.

“If I was going to, we wouldn’t be talking right now. I will be there in seven days.”

You cut the connection.

Chapter Text

“Don’t you think you might be overreacting a little?” Alivda hums, resting her arm on the railing of the little landing that overlooks that Captain’s cabin. It’s the only safe place to be out of range of the, well, for lack of a better word, cyclone going on below. Between the clothes, maps, coins, bits of treasure, miscellaneous swords and knives and other weapons, and fingers and limbs and sections of torso flying around the room, it’s giving new meaning to the phrase “whirlwind of chaos.”

“OVERREACTING?!?!?!” Buggy screeches so loudly her eardrums ring, “OVERREACTING?! IF ANYTHING, I’M UNDERREACTING!!!!!!”

The bag her “fearless” co-captain is stuffing all his valuables into is bursting at the seams and she has absolutely no doubt that it’s going to explode sooner or later. But that doesn’t stop Buggy from trying to shove yet more coins inside it.

Alvida rolls her eyes.

“They’re not so bad,” she points out, remembering the rager of a party just a few short weeks ago, “You and Ace certainly got along well enough. So what if the girl’s looking for you?”

“So what? SO WHAT?!” Buggy hollers, and the next thing she knows, gloved hands are grabbing at the lapels of her coat and a big red nose presses up against hers as Buggy shoves his face into hers. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THEY’LL DO TO ME IF THEY THINK I HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT?!”

“Well did you?”

“OF COURSE NOT!”

“You could just tell them that. I’m sure we’ll be hearing from them soon enough, why not wait for them to show up? I’m sure Ace would vouch for you,” Alvida suggests rationally. For an Emperor’s Commander, Fire Fist Ace was shockingly friendly, trusting and for lack of a better word, simple.

“Like they’d listen to that! I heard what happened to those Heart Pirates!”

Well that’s hardly fair. The Surgeon of Death was caught kidnapping the princess, the story was all over the newspapers. Alvida tsks, shaking her head. Those bastards deserved what they got for messing with an Emperor.

“This is that redhead’s fault!” Buggy shouts, anger overtaking his panic just long enough for him to shake his fists on opposite sides of the cabin, “It has to be!”

“What redhead?” Alvida asks.

“Nevermind that!”

He returns to ransacking his cabin and Alvida sighs yet again, glancing out the window to see the pandemonium mirrored on the other side.

“You’re scaring the crew,” Alvida calls. Buggy ignores her. Sure enough, by the time Buggy finishes stuffing the rucksack to the brim and heads back to the deck, the crew has worked themselves into a complete frenzy.

“Captain Buggy!” one of them shouts when they see him.

“What are we gonna do?!”

“We’re doomed!!!!!”

“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIEEEEE!!!!”

“Quiet down, all of you!” Buggy shouts in his most authoritative voice that Alvida has come to realize means he’s bluffing out of his ass, “Yes, it is true that this article has placed a massive, no, an ENORMOUS target on our backs! Yes, it is true that the entire Grand Line will be after our heads! And yes, it is true that the Whitebeards’ fleet numbers five thousand!”

Alvida has never heard the Big Top so silent. Richie is attempting to bury himself under some crates, the crybaby lion practically sobbing with terror, Mohji and Cabaji are doing their best to stay strong, but they’re quaking where they stand, and all the rest of the men are clinging to each other and staring at Buggy in terror. Alvida sighs, shaking her head in exasperation. They’d met the “fearsome” Fire Fist Ace barely more than a month ago and by the time they parted ways with the Whitebeards, the two had been the best of friends. Now, Alvida would be the first to admit that getting in a fight with an Emperor’s crew would be suicide. They’ve been managing the Grand Line fairly well, but she can’t take credit for that. Alvida can’t really wrap her head around it but they’ll have long stretches of calm seas, friendly islands, and their only run-ins are with weak crews that are easy to plunder. And every so often, the entire crew finds itself on the brink of death, facing horrific odds and terrifyingly powerful pirates and Marines and sea beasts like nothing she’d ever seen in the East Blue. And they only escape with their lives thanks to Buggy’s truly unexplainable luck. True, it gets them into awful situations in the first place (like being the target of a manhunt by the most dangerous pirate crew on the seas) but it also gets them out every single time.

The point is, after actually meeting them, she doesn’t believe that the Whitebeards are nearly the threat Buggy is making them out to be. If he had somehow orchestrated the disappearance of the Pirate Princess, sure, Alvida would already in a life boat rowing far, far, far away from him. But anyone with two functioning eyes can see that the girl is nowhere near their ship and more importantly, that a cowardly buffoon like Buggy wants nothing to do with her.

“But fear not!” Buggy shouts, his cape (since when does he wear a cape?) flapping dramatically in the wind, “For I, the mighty Captain Buggy, have a plan!”

“CAPTAIN BUGGY IS GOING TO SAVE US!”

“WE’RE SAVED!”

“CAPTAIN BUGGY, WE LOVE YOU!!!!”

“I will venture forth alone! I will take the target along with me and keep you, my precious crew, out of danger! I do this knowing that every step will be more perilous than the last! That danger will lurk at every corner! We all know that that blasted article is nothing more than slander! But until the lies have run their course, I can’t allow my men to be in danger because of me!”

“CAPTAIN BUGGY!!!!!”

“WE LOVE YOU CAPTAIN!!!!”

“WE DON’T DESERVE YOU!”

“HE’S SUCH A GREAT MAN!!!”

Richie sticks his head out from under a tarp and howls in agreement. Alvida rolls her eyes yet again.

A pounding knock thuds against the gates of the little guardhouse. Mark looks up from the unflattering sketch of his CO that he’s been doodling in the margin of his regulations guidebook and heaves a hell of a sigh when he sees that it’s still pouring raining.

Guard duty is boring but it’s worse when he’s bored and soaking wet. Is there an umbrella in here? No? Ugh, just his luck.

The banging picks up in intensity and Mark calls, “Yeah, yeah, just a sec, I’m coming.”

He drags himself over to the door of the little guard post and opens the door, expecting Midge or Beckham or any of the other guys who were on duty before that could have just realized they left contraband lying around for anyone to find. Not that Mark would report them, but he didn’t feel too bad about leaving them out in the rain.

Then he opens the door to find that the knocker is absolutely not a fellow Marine, but instead a water-logged stranger in a sopping wet cloak that’s covered in mud stains and claw marks and one of his shoes is a bucket. No wait, one of his shoes is stuck inside a bucket. Mark can’t really see the man’s face under the soaking wet hood but he’s clearly been beaten to a pulp; even in the dim lighting, it’s clear that his nose is bright red and swollen up to the size of a ball! Jeez, this guy must have the worst luck to get so banged up!

“You gotta arrest me!” the poor sap wails as he throws himself forward, clinging to the front of Mark’s coat.

“Whoa, sir, are you okay?!” Mark asks, trying in vain to remember the three hours of first aid they’d been given in basic training. He’d been distracted by the nurses, after all, the women in his training platoon hadn’t enlisted for their looks.

“What do you mean, am I okay?!” the man demands, shaking Mark’s Marine coat for emphasis, “I’m a dangerous pirate and I’m turning myself in!”

“You?” Mark repeats in surprise.

“The hell is that supposed to mean, of course I’m a pirate!”

“It’s just that you… uh… aren’t pirates supposed to be tough and intimidating?”

That is apparently the wrong thing to say because the man jumps to his feet and jabs a finger at Mark’s chest.

“Listen here, buddy, I’m a pirate with a big bounty on my head and you’re a Marine so it’s your job to arrest me, got it?! You wouldn’t believe the time I had getting to an island with an actual Marine base, so you’d better get to it!!!!”

“Okay, okay!” Mark exclaims, throwing up his hands in a gesture of peace, “Mr. Pirate, you’re under arrested.”

“Under arrest! And you’re supposed to say by the order of the Marines or whatever! What are you, new or something?”

“Uh, yeah actually,” Mark admits sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck, “I only graduated from basic training last week. This is my first assignment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! You’re doing a great job for your first week!”

“Really? Thanks!”

“You’re welc—hey wait a second, the hell am I apologizing to you for?! You’re supposed to be arresting me!”

“Oh, right! I forgot! Um…”

The pirate heaves an aggravated sigh and smacks his forehead with his palm.

“This is the part where you handcuff me and then call it in to your commanding officer. Honestly, I have to do everything myself around here!”

“No, no, I got it from here!” Mark assures him, looking around for his handcuffs. Now where did he—”

“…they’re on your belt.”

You make good time sailing back. You’re so nervous that time flies faster the more desperately you want it to slow down and it feels like barely a blink of an eye has passed when the newspaper arrives five days later.

“Whitebeard Arrives in Paradise! The Moby Dick Spotted at Sabaody.”

That… is not encouraging.

You don’t know why they’ve crossed under now instead of coming straight after you along with Ace, but if Morgans is right, they weren’t just sitting around all these months. You have no idea what they’ve been doing, but one thing is for certain.

The net is closing in around you.

This cannot be over soon enough—you have never been so stressed in your entire life and all you want to do is go the FUCK home. You just have to stay ahead of them a tiny bit longer.

It’s almost over.

Banaro Island is quiet. Calm. You hope it stays that way.

“You certainly kept me waiting,” Teach says from directly behind you. You turn around to face him; he’s alone. Just like you said.

Unlike on the Moby, he’s not hiding anymore. His Haki presence is massive, a warning to anyone stupid enough to cross his path that he’s not someone to be messed with. It makes you shiver and you pull in your Observation tightly before his very presence makes you sick.

You can’t feel anyone else anyway.

“You weren’t here when I first arrived,” you answer, crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s not my fault I was a week away when you called.”

“Well, we’re here now. Where’s my fruit?”

You hesitate.

Blackbeard will be a powerful enemy, and the last thing you want is to give him the key to conquering the world. But you can’t kill him. Beyond the fact that you’ve never killed anyone in your life, he’s much stronger than you are even without the fruit. You had to save Thatch, but until he crosses the line, the Whitebeards will never believe he’s capable of betraying them like that. But they won’t take him out, not even if you tell them everything and beg them to believe you.

You can’t kill Teach. And the last few months have proven that Teach won’t show his true colors until he has the fruit. So even if you get rid of it, it will still be your word against his.

He’s going to get the fruit somehow. At least this way, you can control how it happens.

You reach into your bag and pull out the chest, unlocking it and flipping it open. Teach’s eyes shine with greed and he reaches forward. You close the chest again.

Teach laughs and gives you a horrible smile.

“What do you want for it?”

You meet his eyes and don’t flinch.

“I told you to make me an offer.”

That’s what was in the note, after all. Three lines and eighteen words that you agonized over.

If I’m right, make me an offer

I’ll meet you on Banaro Island

Come alone or it’s off

“You’ve had months to think of something, I want to hear what you’ve come up with.”

Teach grins and holds out his fist.

“Well for starters, here’s a gift. As a show of good faith.”

He opens his hand and little scraps of paper flutter out. They scatter on the ground like the world’s saddest confetti. The whole thing is very anticlimactic and for a second, you just stare at him.

“What’s that supposed to…”

The scraps are moving. They’re slowly inching along the ground. Towards you.

“…be.”

“Figured you wouldn’t want the old goat tracking you down and ruining whatever you’ve got planned,” Teach laughs, “I made sure to get all the pieces. Turns out Commander Ace had one too, did you know that?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes fixed on the scraps of paper clustered around your feet. They all stop moving once they reach you.

When you rip a piece off a vivre card, that piece will point towards the biggest one. If you rip a card into equally sized pieces, they’ll all move towards the center of wherever they’re spread. If someone loses their vivre card, then the only thing that a piece of it will tell you is if they’re hurt.

Your vivre card is different.

The Whitebeard pirates scoured the New World for someone capable of making it, and it was not inexpensive. It might have been the most expensive thing your dad ever bought.

Because your vivre card will always point to you. No matter where you are, no matter if you’re holding a piece of it or not, any scrap of paper torn from your card will lead right to you. And you hate it, for the same reason that only the division commanders were given a piece and explicitly ordered to never mark it with any kind of identifying information. You weren’t even allowed to have a piece of it.

That was the reason you had to get across the Red Line as fast as possible. Why you weren’t surprised when Ace found you on Alabasta when there was no reason to suspect you’d even left the New World.

But this is bad. Your entire card is in pieces at your feet. Teach waits while you pick them up and count all seventeen (one for each commander and the biggest piece for your dad). Your chest tightens.

There was a reason you didn’t try to steal the pieces yourself. You want your family to know that you’re okay. You want them to see that you’re alive. Even if you have to keep moving for as long as this takes, it’s worth it to give them at least that much piece of mind.

“And as for my offer,” Teach continues when you’ve finished counting. You shake yourself because you have to focus and stick the pieces in your pocket. Teach reaches for the sack on his back and pulls out an enormous bag of gold. It makes a really impressive thud when it lands on the ground, gold coins and jewels spilling out.

“You’re just like me, Lex,” he tells you as you take in the treasure, “This is more than enough to kickstart your own crew, one that answers to you instead of keeping you in your place.”

It’s an ungodly amount of money. You don’t have any idea where he got it all and you know that you don’t want to know. You look up and meet Teach’s eyes.

“No thanks.”

Teach’s eyes darken dangerously and his Haki swells with anger.

“Don’t play games with me, Alexandria,” he warns, taking a big step into your space. You hold your ground.

“I’m still going to give you the fruit,” you say, “I just want something else.”

“Then why even ask?”

“I needed to know what you thought I wanted. But I’ve known what I wanted the whole time,” your voice somehow doesn’t shake.

“And what is that?”

“A favor. Just one, to be called in at a later date.”

“A favor, huh?” Teach gives you a lopsided grin, clearly looking at you in a new light, “I wouldn’t’ve guessed. What’s the favor?”

You make yourself smile back at him.

“I don’t know yet.”

A breeze blows through the field, tossing your hair up and rustling the sash around Teach’s waist.

“Well? That’s my price. You get your fruit, and in exchange, you owe me one favor. And I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll take you at your word.”

“Zehahahaha!” Teach throws back his head and laughs, “That’s quite a price! You’re too clever for your own good, Lex, I know better than to agree blindly! Maybe I should just take it from you!”

“You can,” you say, and maybe it’s bravery or stupidity but you don’t step back, “You’ll have to kill me, though. You’re stronger, but I’m faster, and all it takes is one bite. And if you do, the Whitebeards will hunt you to the ends of the earth to get revenge.”

Instead of getting angry, Teach just laughs.

“A favor you want so much you’re willing to die for it?!” Teach chuckles, “Now I know I’d be crazy to agree!”

He wipes his eyes and grins at you. “Here’s another idea. Why don’t you join me? I could use a crafty one like you on my crew. And I’ll take you all the way to the top, there won’t be anyone to hold you back anymore!”

You were sort of expecting that and it hurts that Luffy and Teach are so ready to give you an offer that your dad won’t even consider. You shake your head.

“I’m not looking to join a crew right now. I just want the favor. If it helps, I have no interest in standing in the way of your dreams.”

Luffy will, though.

Teach will never be King of the Pirates.

Teach watches you carefully and you can see the gears turning in his brain. At the end of the day, he wants the fruit and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

“Alright, Lex,” he says slowly, never taking his eyes off you, “The fruit for a favor. You’ve got a deal.”

At his word, you hand over the chest. You should probably leave before he eats it, but you can’t tear your eyes away as Teach devours the Devil Fruit he’s been chasing his entire life. Nothing much changes, except that the shadows around his feet suddenly flicker.

“Zehahahahaha, pleasure doing business with you!” Teach laughs, holding out his hand for you to shake. You just take a step back; you might not have a Devil Fruit for him to block, but you know better than to let him touch you with that fruit.

“I’m sure,” you say. With that, you turn and leave.

“Good news,” Teach says as you walk away, and at first you think he’s talking to you, “That tip I got was right on the money! We’re in a big field, can’t miss it, Commander!”

“We’re on our way. Good work, Teach!”

You freeze.

The world stops.

No.

No, he’s supposed to be…

You told Ace to go back home, you told him you were happy on your own, he’s supposed to be back on Fishman— the Whitebeards are already in Paradise, how could he—

Your heart jumps into your throat and you whirl around with fire in your eyes.

“Are you serious?!” you hiss, “You brought him here?!”

After all that, he’s seriously going to throw you back to the Whitebeards?!

“Shame you wouldn’t join me, Lex,” Teach shakes his head regretfully as he stashes the snail in his pocket. The shadows are still flickering but he doesn’t move to attack you yet, “But you do make for good bait.”

Oh shit.

SHIT!

He’s not helping the Whitebeards find you.

He’s using you to get them.

“You motherfucker!” you shout, reaching for your sword.

“Anytime, boys!” Teach calls, and your Observation Haki—that you stupidly pulled in tight to avoid feeling Teach’s overwhelming presence which left you wide open to an ambush— blares in time for you to dodge the bullet that nearly knocks your sword out of your hands. The rest of the Blackbeard pirates melt out of the trees; Lafitte, Doc Q and his horse, Van Augur, Jesus Burgess. Plus three more that you don’t recognize. They look just as mean and greedy and dangerous as the others. Maybe even more because you have no idea who they are or what they’re capable of. You swallow, tightening your grip on your weapon.

“So much for coming alone,” you spit. Teach just grins at you.

“I came to the island alone, just like I said. None of my business if anyone decided to follow after me.”

One you versus all the Blackbeard Pirates. You’re screwed.

But there is no way in hell that you’re going down without a fight.

Burgess reaches you first.

You fight hard, using every bit of swordsmanship and technique your family has ever taught you, supplementing each strike with Armament. It’s exhausting and terrifying but you land more hits than you take and your Haki packs a serious punch. If it was just you and Burgess, you would win.

But it’s not just him.

You also have to dodge Van Augur’s carefully timed shots, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lafitte leisurely making his way towards you but anywhere you try to run, Burgess follows. You fight as hard as you can, jumping and dodging and striking and slashing, but there’s nothing you can do when something suddenly pokes you on the shoulder. You jump, turning your head in panic and Lafitte just grins at you, waggling his fingers in a mesmerizing pattern.

“Be still,” he says as the movement of his fingers and the sound of his voice form a swirl of light that your eyes can’t help but chase after. There’s a brief second where you can’t help feeling like there’s something more important than the colors and lights in front of your face. And then everything gets all quiet and fuzzy.

When the hypnosis wears off, Burgess has you in a lock.

“What do you want us to do with her, captain?” Lafitte asks in a greasy voice. Teach steps closer until he’s right in front you of. You struggle in Burgess’ hold but you really cannot move.

“I do owe you a favor,” Blackbeard reminds you. You hate the sharp look in his eyes. “Just say the word and you can be on your merry way.”

So that’s his play? He wants you to use your favor for this?

In a way, that’s a good thing. It means he really does intend to honor his word.

“Not a chance,” you spit.

“Fair enough,” Blackbeard acknowledges, and for all that he’s a monster, he clearly respects your backbone, “Burgess, keep her quiet. They’re close.”

A massive, sweaty palm presses itself over your mouth, sealing it completely and making it impossible to move your jaw.

“And keep a good hold on her!” Blackbeard adds, “We’re taking her with us, the old man would put his head on a platter if he thought it would save her. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind and want to join my crew?”

You shoot a glare at Teach but you don’t let yourself panic because you know things are about to get worse.

“Zehahahaha, didn’t think so! What a shame!”

As far as you can tell, you made two big mistakes.

One, you thought that having to keep his cover with the Whitebeards would slow Blackbeard down in assembling his crew. And it might have. But even working slowly, he still had months to get them together.

Two, you thought that there was even a chance in hell that telling Ace to his face that you were happy on your own and wanted him to go home and tell Whitebeard to leave you alone would work. You really should’ve known better on that one.

Things aren’t as bad as they could be, though. Thatch is still alive. The stolen piece of his vivre card is proof.

Plus, Teach still owes you that favor.

You can hear thundering footsteps now, the sound of a lot of people running through the trees, and Blackbeard backs up until there’s a clear divide between where he’s standing and where the other seven (Eight? Does Stronger count?) pirates are holding you captive. Your eyes narrow and you glare at him, but he just shoots you a wicked smile before his expression changes to hapless worry. Burgess presses even harder over your mouth.

“Commander Ace!” Teach calls out in false relief as Ace bursts through the tree line, “Thank goodness you’re here! They came out of nowhere.”

The rest of the Second Division catches up, dozens of your brothers charging after Ace with their weapons at the ready. They all freeze when they see Burgess holding you hostage, looking to their commander for orders. The sight makes your stomach flip over; you had no idea the entire division was chasing you.

Of course, then you think back to those weird things Ace said on Alabasta.

Our sister went missing. We have to find her. We’ve been looking for her everywhere.

Ace told you he wasn’t alone. You just weren’t listening.

Fuck, what else did you miss???

“It’s going to be okay, Alex!” Ace shouts, his hands erupting in flames. You only have eyes for Teach, who’s still playing the part of loyal Whitebeard. Ace glares at Lafitte at the front of the group. “Let her go, now!”

“And lose our advantage? I think not,” Lafitte hums. He steps towards you and puts a hand on your head. You don’t flinch, not even when he starts petting your hair with his long, bony fingers. Your eyes are still locked on Teach’s face.

“Don’t touch her!” one of your brothers yells, and the Whitebeards prepare to charge.

“I’d rethink that,” Lafitte says. And then there’s a dagger at your throat. Your brothers freeze. You hold still. Your eyes flick up to Lafitte, but he’s not looking at you. When you look back at Teach, his mask has finally broken. He’s smirking.

“What do you want?” Ace bites out, more furious than you’ve ever heard him in your life. The fire crawling along his arms is still burning, but it isn’t spreading. “Who are you anyway?”

“We’re the Blackbeard pirates,” Lafitte answers. Van Augur swings his rifle up over his shoulder. Ace scowls, shooting him with a glare that could melt steel.

“Never heard of you,” he spits. The Blackbeard pirates laugh and Teach’s eyes flash with greed.

“That’s because we’ve been waiting,” Laffite hisses. The knife digs into your throat until the razor-sharp blade bites into your skin. You inhale through your nose at the cold sting.  “But the wait is finally over. The world will fear our captain’s name.”

“And who’s your captain?” Ace demands. You can feel Burgess’s grin even as you watch a dark smile spread across Lafitte’s face.

“ZEHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Blackbeard cackles.

In that moment, many things happen at the same time. The Whitebeards’ faces shift in confusion. Horror slowly begins to dawn. Blackbeard reaches for Ace, who turns around a second too late. Van Augur readies his rifle while Doc Q reaches for Stronger’s saddle bag. Two of the unknown pirates grip the hilts of their swords while the third pulls out his crossbow.

No one’s watching you.

In the confusion, you summon every ounce of Haki you have to yank one of your arms free and grab the hilt of the dagger at your throat. You jerk it to the side, plunging it into Burgess’s arm, and when he shouts in surprise and pain, twist out of the hold.

“DON’T LET HIM TOUCH YOU!” you holler as your feet hit the ground and you haul ass across the field. Your Observation Haki blares out a warning and you dive to the side, hitting the ground hard and rolling roughly out of the way of Van Augur’s bullets (none of the hits would be fatal but any of them would slow you down enough for them to catch you). Through sheer willpower, you push yourself back to your feet and keep sprinting towards your brothers even though your knees are skinned to hell and your arms are covered in cuts and dirt.

By some miracle, Ace hears your warning.

Fire lights up the world, an inferno of red-hot flames jumping to life and splitting Blackbeard off from the rest of the Second Division. You charge straight into the fire, trusting your brothers to cover you as they leap forward, slashing out at the tangling ropes and slicing them right out of the air before they can snare your legs. Deuce reaches you first, grabbing you by the arms and yanking you the remaining distance until your brothers can close ranks around you.

Ace stands at the front, a man made of fire, fury radiating off him as he stares down the traitor. At the same time, your brothers swarm you.

“Lex!”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you hurt?”

“What happened?!”

You ignore them all because you all have bigger problems.

“He has the Dark Dark Fruit!” you shout at Ace, forcing your voice to be heard over the crackling flames, “If he touches you, he can nullify any Devil Fruit power!”

“Come now, Lex, it’s not nice to give away someone else’s secrets!” Teach calls. He sounds entirely too amused.

“Don’t you dare talk to her, you filthy traitor!” Ace snaps.

“Traitor?” Teach repeats, “Zehahahaha! Well, Commander, if I’m a traitor, I’m not the only one! Your precious sister’s the one who sold me the fruit not five minutes ago! You can fall for the innocent act all you want but she’s just as loyal as I am!”

All around you, the Second Division freezes. Your brothers stare at you in utter shock.

“Lex, did you…” Deuce starts.

“Shut up!” Ace shouts, but that just makes Teach laugh harder, “You think I’ll believe anything you say?!”

“That little girl’s been planning this since she left the ship. She left me a note and everything!”

“You’re lying!”

“Why else would I volunteer to lead the search?” Teach shoots back. Darkness gathers in his hands and your stomach plunges at the sight, “Tell them the truth, Lex! Tell them how much you really care for their nonsense about family!”

You yank free of Deuce’s grip and whirl on Teach.

“YOU WERE GOING TO KILL THATCH!” you scream, heart pounding in your throat, “THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE AT FISHMAN ISLAND BY NOW!”

Your shout echoes in the silence as your words strike home. Your brothers stare at you in horror. You don’t know if they’re horrified by your actions or your words but the field is silent regardless.

“ZEHAHAHAHAHA, you really did have me all figured out!”

Ace’s flames go out.

“Is it true?” he asks in a flat voice that’s so full of ice you don’t recognize it, “You were going to kill Thatch?”

A sickening grin spreads across Teach’s face.

“He found my Devil Fruit, Commander. If he was stupid enough to eat it, what choice would I have but take it from him?”

“How could you?” Ace takes a deep breath and screams, “HOW COULD YOU?! HE’S YOUR BROTHER! WE’RE YOUR FAMILY, HOW COULD YOU EVER—”

“Family?!” Teach laughs, “You were never my family! You’re just a bunch of misfits chasing after a fading old man! Now power, dreams, those are worth everything!”

“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!”

Ace launches himself forward in a wave of pure fire.

“Ace, don’t!” you shout, but it’s too little too late. You keep going anyway because you know how this will end. “He’s after you! He wants to be a Warlord!”

“Get her out of here!” Ace orders. One of your brothers grabs you by the arms and hauls you backwards.

“Put me down!” you shout, trying to break free, “ACE, DON’T FIGHT HIM!”

Your brothers don’t listen to you. You struggle, trying to hold your ground, but your brothers are hell-bent on getting you out. Anytime you free one limb, another hand reaches out to hold you down again as they pull you towards the trees.

The Blackbeard pirates don’t stay on the sidelines though. Steel clashes against steel and bodies go flying as Burgess jumps into the middle of the formation. Huge jets of flame flare up in every direction, intertwining with streaks of darkness that cover everything. In seconds, you’re in the middle of a warzone.

While Ace takes on Blackbeard, the rest of Teach’s crew keeps your brothers busy. And even though there’s only seven of them and dozens of your brothers, not everyone on the crew is an Ace. It’s terrifyingly easy for Van Augur to plant bullets in their shoulders and knees, while Laffite hypnotizes one of your brothers to attack his own family. Stronger rears back, kicking another brother in the shoulder and sending him crashing to the ground, which has the unintended effect of finally freeing you.

“You’re coming with me, girl!” Doc Q wheezes. Your eyes widen when you see that the hand reaching for you is covered in Haki; he may look sickly and weak, but you’re not stupid enough to underestimate any member of Teach’s crew.

You dodge and shift your weight as you summon your strongest Haki to seize him by the arm and throw him off his horse, who panics and runs off into the woods. Doc Q lands hard on his back and you’re on top of him immediately, putting all your Haki into the punches you launch at his face. Amid the pummeling, he manages to grab your wrist and twists in the exact worst spot, and you cry out as something snaps. But you don’t let that slow you down.

You land a brutal haymaker to his chin, and when your Haki-coated fist lands, energy explodes out. Doc Q lands hard. He doesn’t get up.

“Lex!” Deuce grabs your arm again. There’s a long cut on his face and blood dripping down the side of his neck; red clashes vividly against his light blue hair. “We have to get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving!” you shout. Deuce points up behind you and you turn around to see an enormous wall of Darkness exploding out from Teach, while Ace shouts, “Flame Commandment!”

Fire so bright it burns your eyes blazes into existence and Deuce pulls you closer.

“Neither of us can stand to get caught in that, we have to go!”

Shit. He has a point.

Your brothers are already running, most of them holding your unconscious siblings and carrying them on their backs. Other than you and Deuce, there’s no one left but Ace and Blackbeard.

“LEX, COME ON!” Deuce shouts. You stare up at the sky, where two titanic powers are about to duke it out for real, and your heart shatters. You already know what’s going to happen.

Deuce curses loudly before he grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder, running for the trees. The world turns black and orange until there’s nothing but flashes of darkness and bursts of light and you can’t do anything but stare helplessly.

Ace’s furious roars and Teach’s pained shouts fills your ears. Blasts of willpower and deadly intent assault your Haki and even if you could see right now, you’d be blinded by it anyway. It’s impossible to know who’s winning.

Except you already know how this ends.

The Whitebeards are piling onto the ship and Deuce puts on a burst of speed as a ball of fire forms in the air. It starts to swell, growing until it’s less of a ball and more of a full-sized Sun. Your skin burns but there’s nothing you can do but bounce against Deuce’s shoulder as he sprints for the ship.

It’s too late.

The Sun collides with Darkness that’s somehow emptier and crueler than the vacuum of space and the world explodes.

Everyone goes flying. The ship goes flying. The trees and sand and rocks go flying. Deuce goes flying.

You go flying, pulled far out of his grip. Your back hits the water with a mighty splash and the force knocks all the wind out of your lungs and your head smashes against the sea with a concussive force.

Everything goes dark.

“…ace…” you mutter as the darkness rolls in. Your eyes flutter shut, head slipping beneath the surface, water flooding your nose and mouth. Something bumps against your back.

You pass out.

Marco has a bad feeling.

It begins during the Commanders meeting when Haruta is catching them up on the Fleet’s movements and he mentions that one of their brothers came back from a scouting mission with a lead and the Second Division headed to Banaro Island to check it out.

He doesn’t say anything about it. It’s just one of dozens of possible leads their allies are following and it’s just as unlikely to turn up their wayward sister as all the rest.

He chalks it up to just being worried about Ace. He’s been off-balance ever since his… run-in with Lexa, and Marco knows his youngest brother is burning for a chance to redeem himself, no matter how many times Marco and Pops try to reassure him that there’s nothing to redeem himself for. If their little sister was easy to catch, they wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.

The meeting goes smoothly but Marco can’t get comfortable. He shifts in his seat and fidgets with the loops on his belt, ignoring the look Rakuyo shoots him because he knows his brother can tell he’s uneasy but there’s no point derailing the meeting for something so vague. It’s not until Pops reaches over to settle his broad palm across Marco’s back that he can finally breathe enough to focus on Blamenco’s report. Marco sneaks a glance up at his father and immediately regrets it because the captain’s face is pinched and he knows that he isn’t the only one with a bad feeling. Izou’s fingernails haven’t stopped tapping against the table since he sat down, and Marco’s agitation grows stronger as he notices several of the others looking restless and tense because it’s only the commanders with the strongest Observation Haki.

Marco nearly jumps out of his skin when Pops flinches suddenly, jerking his arm up like he’s been burned. In all the years he’s sailed by his father’s side, he’s never seen the man react like that.

To anything.

Silence booms through the meeting room, all the commanders staring at their captain in shock.

The shock intensifies to full-fledged fear as Pops’ eyes go wide and his face drains of all color before his hand flies to his wrist. To the charm bracelet that he never takes off. Where it’s definitely not Marco’s imagination that there are tiny wisps of smoke drifting out from under.

“Wha—”

“Help me get it off!” the captain orders.

Marco doesn’t need to be told twice. He jumps onto the arm of Pops’ chair and grabs hold of the knots securing the massive bracelet in place, yanking and tugging at the well-worn strips of sailcloth until the knot starts to come free and the cloth loosens.

A tiny scrap of paper flutters down. Despite its minuscule size, Pops grabs it out of midair and closes his fist around it. There’s a tremor in his hand as he turns it over. When he opens his hand, Lexa’s vivre card is smoking.

It’s barely an instant before the tiny card starts burning.

Marco erupts in flames.

Chapter Text

The last thing Deuce remembers is heat so intense the air burned against his skin, Lex screaming for Ace, and then the air pressure dropping like nothing he’d ever felt in his life. Then the world exploded. He wakes up to the worst headache he’s ever had and a ringing in his ears, blinking as he pushes himself up from the sand because he doesn’t even need to be fully conscious to realize his sister is gone.

“Lex!” Deuce shouts, forcing himself to his feet and staggering down the beach, his head whipping around to try and see where she landed.

“DEUCE!” someone screams back, and Deuce has hope for a single second before his blurry eyes land on the shrinking shape in the distance and his eyes widen.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Deuce curses, scrambling to pull off his coat and sprint for the water. Their ship got caught up in the explosion and the tiny bit that remains is quickly sinking, and Deuce doesn’t see nearly enough of his brothers splashing around in the water. He swims out as fast as he can, hurtling through the water with all the speed of someone who’s pulled a lot of Devil Fruit users out of the ocean. More specifically, one particularly idiotic Devil Fruit user. Ace isn’t the only member of the Second with a Devil Fruit though, and Deuce makes it out to the wreckage, inhaling as deeply as he can before diving down and chasing the sinking forms of his crewmates.

Gunnar and Murray are holding hands as they sink, linking themselves together as the Ocean’s curse drags them both down. Deuce puts on a burst of speed to grab Gunnar under the arms in a secure hold. But once he has them, he only treads enough to stop them from sinking any further and looks around frantically. There should be three Devil Fruit users. Deuce’s eyes widen as he catches sight of a shock of white hair, because unlike Gunnar and Murray, Pierce is unconscious and he’s a hell of a lot deeper than they are. Deuce isn’t going to be able to reach him in time, not with the other two steadily running out of air.

Something goes shooting past him, leaving a streak of red in the water behind him, and Deuce’s heart pounds with relief as Darwin jets through the water with speed only a mermaid could beat. The goldfish fishman is bleeding heavily from a gash on his leg, but Deuce can take care of that once half the division isn’t drowning anymore.

“I’ve got him! Get them up!” Darwin shouts and Deuce doesn’t waste any time. He kicks hard, swimming towards the surface as fast as he can. His lungs are burning by the time he breaks through to beautiful, beautiful air and he keeps kicking his legs as he reaches down to help pull Murray up and keeps both his crewmates’ heads above water.

Gunnar gasps and Murray starts coughing and spitting up seawater as soon as there’s air to breathe. Deuce allows himself a brief second to catch his breath, then starts the arduous swim back to shore. The beach is farther than it looks and the sea floor cuts off sharply, leaving the waters deceptively deep. The only good news is that more of their brothers are conscious now, and everyone who’s able is in the water, pulling out unconscious crewmates. Mickey and Winslow meet Deuce halfway, easily hoisting Gunnar and Murray onto their backs.

“Lex?” Deuce demands. The two just shake their heads, eyes furrowed in worry.

“She’s not on the beach,” Winslow answers.

“Darwin’s looking for her now.”

Deuce nods and immediately swims back out. He loses track of how long he looks for, diving down under the water and staying under until his lungs burn only to surface and repeat the cycle, and more and more of their brothers join the search. The only call the search off when they’ve checked every inch of the water and the island floor deep below the waves and they’re positive; Lex isn’t in the water. There’s only so many possibilities about where she could be and none of them are good. Best case, she somehow slipped away in the chaos and she’s back on the run. Worst, the bastard Teach got to her first. Deuce refuses to consider that she might be…

“We split up and we search,” Deuce announces, “If there’s any chance she’s still on the island, we’ll find her. And we need a way to contact the Moby, there’s got to be something left on the island if the ship’s toast.”

“Right,” Mickey nods, as the crewmate standing closest to him. Deuce looks at the dozens of conscious members of the division, half expecting someone to protest, but they’re all just watching him quietly, waiting for the order to move.

Deuce shouldn’t technically be in charge right now, but with Gunnar half-drowned, and their commander…  the only person with clear authority is the longest standing member and that traitor can go rot in hell.

Obliterated. There’s no other word for it. The entire island has been obliterated; everything from the buildings to the houses to the woods to the natural rock formations that once towered overhead, it’s all destroyed. The battlefield is more crater than field, with burn marks and scattered debris everywhere. Teach and his crew are long gone. There’s no sign of Ace, and Deuce curses the fact that Lex was right the whole time; that’s just one more reason they have to find a way to contact the Moby as fast as possible. But that’s easier said than done. The island was nearly abandoned when the Second Division arrived, even Deuce’s below-average Observation Haki could tell. Given the wreckage, that’s a good thing, but it seems like all the residents took their snails with them.

After nearly an hour of searching, the only things they have are scattered pieces of treasure. It’s a lot of treasure and Deuce doesn’t like any of the possible answers to why it’s there. But soon it doesn’t matter. Because Stevenson lets out a choked sound and Deuce runs over with everyone else to see their brother collapse into the charred dirt, clutching something long and shiny in his hands.

Lex’s sword.

A heavy silence falls.

Deuce can’t breathe over the sheer horror of it, because Lex loves that sword and she’d never go anywhere without it and he was the one who grabbed her and hauled her away from the fight and he never even noticed she dropped it and now his sister is somewhere out there, alone and injured and unarmed and it’s his fault for not keeping her safe.

“duh…puh…puhhh…”

Deuce’s eyes widen.

“What is it?” Stevenson asks and Deuce raises a hand.

“Shh!!!”

“puduhpuduhpuduh…”

It’s a snail.

Deuce takes off again, sprinting towards the sound as fast as he can for fear of losing the signal. The sound is so quiet he can’t hear it when he’s moving, so he closes his eyes and focuses his Observation as hard as he can and sure enough, there’s a little tiny pinprick of a lifeform in the distance. The rest of the Second Division is hot on his heels, but Deuce is still the one to break through the remaining tree line and stop short as he nearly tumbles down the side of a cliff. He can’t see anything but sheer rock but his Haki promises there’s a little life form down there and the ringing sound is louder here than anywhere else so he turns around and starts rappelling down the cliff.

And there it is.

A small ship, one built for a little crew flying the white sails of an unassuming sailing vessel, tucked away in the hidden inlet where it’s impossible to see from the island. There’s a strange rig of ropes tied to the front that looks like a harness for something absolutely huge and Deuce feels the first stirrings of hope because while there’s still no sign of their sister, there’s no sign of an enormous Sea King either.

Deuce climbs onto the ship, his brothers behind him, and they hunt for the source of the ringing.

“Found it!” Gunnar exclaims, pulling out a tiny little snailie from an enclosure. The snailie isn’t ringing anymore, but the little thing is so relieved to see them that it doesn’t take any coaxing at all to get it to ring its mate.

“Missy!” the man on the other end of the snailie is unfamiliar, his voice heavily accented with a thick twang, “About time! You scared me half to death!”

“Who is this?” Gunnar demands, staring into the snailie’s eyes. Its mouth drops open and its eyes widen before the expression contorts into anger.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?! WHAT’D YOU DO TO THAT GIRL?! I SWEAR, IF YOU BASTARDS LAID A FINGER ON HER—”

“We’re her brothers,” Deuce interrupts, moving forward to take the snailie. He’s not expecting the man to cuss loudly but he does, and then follows it up with a heavy sigh.

“The deal went bad, didn’t it?”

“The deal?”

“I knew that bastard was bad news,” the man continues, but Deuce is still caught on the fact that this man knew what Lex was planning.

“Look, we told you who we are, who exactly are you?”

“The name’s Clifton, I own a restaurant on Banaro. Your missy came by a few months ago and asked for my help keepin’ an eye out for her buyer. Gave me the snail I’m talking to you on. Couple months go by an I don’t hear nothin’, then last week this gap-toothed bastard walks right through my doors lookin’ for her.”

Deuce definitely wants to know the whole story, but getting in contact with the Moby is the only thing that matters right now. The man is a good sport about it when Deuce cuts him off.

“We need your help. Do you have a transponder snail?”

“That I do.”

“Can you help us put a call through?”

The commanders are already gathered in the meeting room when Pops’ personal snail begins to ring. The charred and smoking cards of the Second Division are laid out on a fireproof tray on the table in front of them and there’s no doubt about who’s calling.

“It was Teach,” Deuce says the second the call connects. His voice is grainier than expected, and it doesn’t take long for Marco to realize that someone’s holding two receivers together. And then he processes what Deuce just said.

“What—”

“That bastard is a damn traitor!” Gunnar spits and from anyone else, Marco wouldn’t even begin to believe the words but Gunnar has been with the Second Division for twenty-four years and he’s sailed with Teach through thick and thin. “He’s got Commander Ace.”

“What do you mean, he’s got Ace?!” Blenheim demands, “Got him how?”

“That bastard is a traitor!” Gunnar shouts again, “That fucker used Lex as bait! Had his fucking crew hold a damn knife to her throat!”

“HE DID WHAT?!”

The reaction is instantaneous, all the commanders out of their seats and clustering around the snail.

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

“We can’t find her,” Deuce gasps out, and Marco’s chest is tight because not for nothing, Deuce was Ace’s first mate and is a steady, confident presence in even the most high-stakes surgical operations. He didn’t panic when he saw an Emperor throw his unconscious Captain over his shoulder and walk away with him, instead he just rallied the Spades and charged. Over the last few years as a Whitebeard, his confidence has only grown leaps and bounds.

That’s all to say that Masked Deuce doesn’t panic.

He’s panicking now.

“I had her! We just had to get off the island but then there was an explosion and she went in the water. We checked everywhere, everywhere, but there’s no sign of her. Her… her ship is here, and we found… Pops, we found her sword, but—"

“She’s alive.”

Pops’ voice stops the entire ship.

“But we—”

“She’s alive. But I need you to tell us everything that happened.”

It takes a little more coaxing to get the Second Division to breathe, and then they launch into the story. Teach claiming he found a lead, promising to scope it out ahead, the call they’d been praying for, that Alex was right there and the search was finally over. Then charging into the clearing after Ace and finding Lex captured by pirates with a knife at her throat. The reveal, that horrible reveal that the pirates weren’t just a random crew, they were Teach’s crew. And then all hell breaking loose, Lex somehow managing to free herself and make it back to them, before warning them all about what Teach was capable of. The fight, most of the Second Division against seven pirates and how it ended in an explosion that knocked out the entire crew and destroyed their ship. Waking up stranded, no ship, no snail, no Lex.

“You said he has Ace,” Haruta says sharply, cutting through the noise to focus on one problem at a time. A shiver runs down Marco’s spine and he feels sick, sicker than he did when Lexa’s card started burning. It’s beyond unthinkable.

A traitor.

There’s silence on the other end.

“Lex warned us,” Pierce says quietly, “She said Teach wants to be a Warlord, he’s going to…”

“He’s going to turn Ace in to the Marines,” Deuce finishes.

There’s not a word strong enough to describe the feeling that floods Marco’s chest. Horror. Fury. Rage. Betrayal. Grief. Murderous grieving rage. The thought of anyone turning his brother in to the Marines fills him with outrage. But Teach? Teach? His brother of the last thirty years, one of the few crewmates remaining from the early days before they had things like divisions and territories, back when they were just a family sailing the seas in search of adventure.

For Teach to betray that? To turn his back on Pops? On Pops’ dream? To use them?

He can’t breathe. He feels sick, sicker than sick, more furious than fury. His talons ache to bury themselves in that bastard’s chest and rip and tear until there’s no more blood left to spill.

“Pops, Teach ate the fruit. He said…” Gunnar cuts off suddenly, “Lex sold it to him.”

“She landed on Banaro months ago. She was waiting for him this whole time,” Deuce adds in a tight voice.

Rakuyo thumps his fist down on the table.

“She was going in circles,” their lead navigator realizes, “All those beacons lighting up as soon as they got planted, she had her sea king take her round and round those same islands.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Haruta waves his hands over the table until he has everyone’s attention. “We’re supposed to believe that Lexie took the fruit and a ship, crossed the fucking Red Line, all just to sell it to Teach? That can’t be the whole story!”

“It’s not.” Izou gasps suddenly, his eyes wider than Marco has ever seen them. His skin is as pale as a ghost, shock permeating every ounce of his Haki, and his chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow breaths, “She couldn’t tell us. That’s what she told Vista. She couldn’t tell us.”

Izou looks straight up at Pops, horror and guilt and fury all mixed into one devastating expression.

“She couldn’t tell us,” Izou repeats. His hands—the famously steady hands of a master sniper— are shaking. “That’s who was training her. It was Teach.”

Marco usually enjoys the feeling of the world falling out from under him, but this time he’s not soaring through the sky. It makes a horrible amount of sense. It wasn’t teenage rebellion, or a sudden fit of greed. Whatever plans that bastard had for her, Lexa knew that he was a traitor. She knew he wanted the fruit. She didn’t take it for herself; she took it so that bastard couldn’t.

“But why? Why would she take it, why wouldn’t she just ask me for it—” Thatch demands, and Marco’s Haki shivers with the sudden certainty that he doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Commander Thatch…” Pierce starts. He can’t get any farther. Deuce is the one to finish the horrible answer.

“…he was going to kill Commander Thatch for it.”

Thatch reels back so fast his chair scrapes along the floor. The force of his shock is so strong that it leaves a metallic taste in Marco’s mouth. In an instant, Thatch is on his feet.

“I’m going after her!” Thatch shouts, storming towards the door.

“Thatch, she could be anywhere!”

“Then I’ll go everywhere!”

“You can’t sail a ship alone, are you crazy?!” Rakuyo snaps, still blocking Thatch’s path with his arm.

“Then I’ll take my division!”

“Thatch, we’re already down the whole Second! Are you trying to make us lose the Fourth too?!” Haruta shouts, digging his heels in to try stopping the chef’s momentum. Thatch growls and throws them both off, just like he would in a friendly sparring match. But there’s nothing friendly about the way Haruta hits the wall or Rakuyo slams into the table.

“My son, enough,” Pops orders furiously, “I’ve already lost one commander to this madness, we cannot lose our heads now. We will find Alexandria, and we will retrieve Ace even if we have to storm Impel Down itself. But this is not the time to act rashly!”

“So we’re just supposed to wait while we let that bastard get away with it?!”

“Thatch, shut your mouth!” Jozu snarls.

“Get the hell off me!” Thatch shouts, flailing in Jozu’s diamond grip as their brother grabs him up in an unbreakable hold, “I should’ve gone with Ace from the start! None of this would have happened in the first place! But Allie’s out there and she’s hurt and she needs us! She did all this for us! She knew about that fucking traitor and everything she did was for us! I’m going to go find her, I don’t care what it takes!”

“Thatch—"

“I’ll go,” Marco announces suddenly. Thatch freezes. The room goes silent.

“Marco,” Pops begins, but Marco interrupts him. He didn’t even realize he was thinking it, but now that the words are out, it’s clear he was just waiting for the excuse to go after her.

“While you all work on our plan to get Ace back, I’ll go after Lexa. Thatch is right. We can’t just wait for her to show up, not after what happened. I’ll keep my snail on me, you can reach me whenever you need and keep me up to date on the plan. But I can’t just sit around here and wait.”

The commanders stay silent, and everyone that’s not starting at Marco is watching Pops. Even Thatch is quiet and still in Jozu’s hold.

Pops inhales, and then breathes out slowly.

“Alright,” Pops agrees. He nods down at the tray of vivre cards on the table, a silent order to take one to track down the Second Division too. Marco doesn’t hesitate to grab Gunnar’s card and stash it in the pocket on his belt. Pops returns his attention to the snail. “My sons, look after each other. I will send a ship to retrieve you all. And then, I swear to you all, we will make that bastard pay.”

“Banaro Island,” the man observes calmly, staring into the eyes of the little black snail sitting on his wrist. He glances over at the man at the next desk, wearing a different colored but equally decorated suit jacket. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s a base not far from there.”

“G-15,” the man agrees. He doesn’t look up from his own paperwork.

“Hmmm.”

He turns to direct his next words at the man standing off to the side of the room.

“Get their commander on the line,” there’s a brief pause as he strokes his chin in thought, “A traitor in the Whitebeards, the irony is almost poetic. But Blackbeard, it’s too on the nose. These pirates always think they’re clever. Any sign of the girl?”

“None, sir,” the man standing at attention behind his desk salutes. The first man sighs.

“No matter. Send out a missive, tell all the scouts to be on the lookout for that overgrown turkey. He might lead us right to her. Assuming she’s not dead already.”

“Sir! Commander Ruxton is on the line, what should I tell him?”

“His orders are to send a warship to Banaro Island. There’s a division of Whitebeards stranded there, they are to be exterminated with extreme prejudice.”

The lower-ranking Marines in the room freeze, their eyes going wide as they stare at their Vice Admiral.

“But, but sir! Attacking the Whitebeards is a declaration of war!”

“You have your orders, lieutenant,” the Vice Admiral at his side answers before he has any need to.

“Ye… yes, sir.”

“It’s hardly a declaration of war,” he muses, flipping through the paperwork necessary to authorize the deployment. Word of Fire Fist’s arrest had begun circulating less than an hour ago, and the Vice Admirals and above had already received the official sentence. Fire Fist Ace would be executed at the end of the week, “Think of it as… a pruning before the main event.”

When Deuce sees the ship on the horizon, he feels a brief second of relief that their rescuers have arrived. And then he sees the flags flying high above the water, the white with blue seagulls, and his chest sinks as the warship approaches.

It’s a big fucking warship.

And most of the Second Division is still injured, and the few that aren’t are still exhausted and hungry and most of their weapons were damaged in the explosion. They have a bit of time to prepare, but the wreckage covering the entire island doesn’t have a lot to offer in the way of setting traps and rebuilding their weapons.

Instead, when the Marine warship lands and Marines flood the beach, the Whitebeards stand their ground and fight. Deuce might be a doctor first and foremost, but he can also throw a mean hook and he’s spent all these years playing catch up to his captain-turned-commander and he gives it his all. He still can’t help but think how much easier this fight would be with Ace here; the logia would take out half the Marines in a snap of his fingers.

Gunnar, Murray and Pierce are more than pulling their weight as they show off just how useful Devil Fruits can be. Still, even with their advantage, the Whitebeards are desperately outnumbered and Deuce is starting to feel more than a little bit dizzy from blood loss. He never did get around to stitching up that big-ass cut on his face, did he?

It might just be his imagination, or it might just be the chaos of a big fight (these Marines are nowhere near as strong as Teach and his shitty crew, but they outnumber the second division nearly three to one), but the ocean beyond the beach is churning restlessly. He blinks hard, sidestepping a Marine charging him with a sword as he easily disarms the idiot and knocks him out with a hard whack to the temple with the heel of his stolen blade, trying to clear the sudden… blue film from his eyes. He blinks again. Is his mask ripped or something?

Everything looks blue.

In the blink of an eye, and then several more because Deuce can’t believe what he’s seeing, all the Marines on the beach turn into small rocks that fall onto the sand.

“What the fuck…” Mickey breathes.

Deuce blinks again.

A couple of things happen. There’s a series of splashes, so many splashes and Deuce turns around to see all the Marines that were just fighting falling into the water. The blue light flickers and fades completely and it wasn’t Deuce’s imagination, everything really was blue! And in the distance, there’s a dark shape standing over something bright yellow, and the sea churns harder as the yellow thing grows bigger and bigger and—

It’s a submarine. The dark shape turns out to be a man in a long coat, throwing a handful of pebbles up and down in his hand. Deuce and the rest of the division watch as the submarine draws up to the beach, not close enough to get stuck on the rocks, but closer enough for the man to lean over the railing of his submarine and look down at them.

“Need a lift?” asks Trafalgar Law.

The Earl of Sandwich flicks his tail anxiously. He’s looking down at you, not even blinking as you slowly groan and push yourself up. Your wrist protests and you look down to see that it’s a mottled black and purple. You try to flex it and the pain makes you yelp. Definitely broken.

You wince, cradling your arm close to your chest so you don’t move it around too much while you figure out what to do. Earl lowers his neck and bumps his nose against your head.

“You saved me,” you tell your friend. His forked tongue flicks out, licking the tears and saltwater off your face. “Thank you.”

Earl licks your face again and you finally take in your surroundings. You’re out in the middle of the ocean and you don’t see anything but sea and sky in any direction. There’s not even any clouds or birds. No ships either. You’re just lying on top of Earl and he’s somehow keeping part of his back above the water so you don’t drown.

You shift around, climbing a little bit up so you can carefully wrap your good hand in his mane to tie yourself in place, wrapping your legs partway around his neck to hold yourself up. He makes a soft braying sound and lets his body relax into the water now that you’re secured.

“Are my brothers okay?” you ask Earl now that you’ve gotten your bearings. “Did you see what happened?”

Earl doesn’t answer. You think that means he just doesn’t understand what you’re asking.

“Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm. You can panic later. “We need to get to an island. I need to find a snail!”

Earl raises his snout to the sky and lets out a loud cry. It’s a battle cry if you’ve ever heard one. You take a deep breath, bracing your broken wrist for what’s about to happen, and hang on for dear life as Earl dives under the water.

Chapter Text

“The Second Division has already been ambushed. We may need to implement a full blackout,” Pops finishes heavily. Haruta’s hands curl into fists and he tries in vain to calm himself down. He knows he couldn’t have done anything, the signals from a relay call are notoriously easy for snails to hijack, but the security of calls to and from the Moby is his responsibility. He’s already gone through every detail of the last call and conversation with a fine-tooth comb, writing down every possible thing that the Marines could have learned from it.

It was more than enough to put an entire division of their brothers at risk. And with the announcement of Ace’s… Ace’s execution… they can’t risk any of their plans being intercepted.

Haruta can’t deny the danger. The Navy’s technology gets more advanced with every passing year and he still hasn’t found any completely reliable ways to block a listening snail from a standard transponder. Pops is right. But that doesn’t make it a less bitter pill to swallow, not for any of them.

“Pops, you can’t!” Namur snarls, slamming his fist down on the table, “Lexie’s all alone out there and she’s hurt! What if she tries to call us and she can’t get through?!”

“If we keep the lines open, we risk the entire Fleet,” Curiel counters, his face hard and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Izou shuts his eyes and exhales sharply.

“Loath as I am to admit it, I agree,” Izou says slowly, and Haruta understands what he’s saying even as the words twist his heart inside his chest, “It’s been months and she never attempted to contact us. We have no guarantee that she’ll even attempt to call now. What we do know is that the security of our communications network has been compromised.”

“But if she calls for help and we don’t answer? Could we ever live without ourselves?” Rakuyo demands.

“We’re preparing for war. If the Marines can listen in, then all of our efforts will be for nothing,” Atmos bites out through clenched teeth. It’s obvious from how wet his eyes are that he’s horrified to even think it but he’s convinced it’s the right decision.

“This can’t even be a discussion!” Thatch protests, “If there’s any chance she needs us, we can’t close the lines!”

When no one says anything, his eyes widen and he shouts, “We can’t!”

Vista sighs heavily and puts a hand on Thatch’s arm.

“Haruta,” the swordsman asks tiredly, “What happens if the Marines tap our lines?”

Haruta’s hands curl into fists and he looks down at the table.

“Then we have no way to know what plans they’ve overheard. Best case, they don’t crack any of our codes. Worst case? We take every single one of our allies and walk straight into a trap. I’ve seen the orders, the Marines are pulling everyone, even the warlords. It’s an entire army.”

“Well there’s got to be another way, right?” Blamenco asked, “Some other kind of code?”

There’s a long pause. The entire room waits with baited breath, all the commanders hoping against hope that there’s a way around the decision. But Haruta just slowly shakes his head.

“End to end encryption is the only way to be sure,” he whispers. They all know better than to ask if he’s sure. Jozu pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers and exhales slowly. Haruta’s chest tightens until he can’t even breathe from the growing horror of what has to be done. The Marines are listening. Lexie is out there somewhere and she’s hurt. There’s a button under lock and key in the Communications room that will disable any non-encrypted calls made to or from any snail connected to the Fleet. The idea of pushing it makes him sick to his stomach. “But if that’s what you decide, I… Pops, I can’t be the one that… I can’t. I made a promise, I told her if she ever needed me, I’d be there, I can’t—”

“Then you won’t have to.”

Haruta isn’t sure who cuts him off, but it doesn’t matter. He knows that any one of them would take that burden from him if need be.

The debate doesn’t go on much longer. They all know that in the end, it’s the captain’s decision alone.

“In this matter,” Pops begins heavily, the weight of their entire family resting on his shoulders, “I have to think of all my children.”

“Pops!”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Her vivre card has not burned any further,” Pops says tightly, “We have no way of knowing where she is. Until she lands on an island with a beacon, chasing after her is a use of resources we cannot spare. Not when Ace’s life is on the line.”

“But she’s—”

“She’s alive. I strongly suspect that sea king of hers pulled her from the water. If this… if the last few months have taught us anything, it’s that Alexandria is intensely resourceful and capable. I truly believe that if she manages to get her hands on a snail in the first place, a blackout will not prevent her from getting a message through to us.”

Pops takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, nodding once with all the authority of an Emperor.

“The blackout will be put into effect immediately.”

“So,” Deuce starts, most of his attention focused on the roll of bandages he’s wrapping around Darwin’s leg. The cut was as huge as it was nasty (to use the technical term) and it took a while to get it properly disinfected and stitched up; Deuce had just started treating it with Law went to the control room with the other Whitebeards to update Pops on what they’d learned, and he returned to the infirmary just as Deuce finished the last of the sutures.

Gunnar had recovered from his near-drowning and took the lead on interrogating the few Marines left conscious after the Heart Pirates’ arrival about their presence on Banaro. He’d come by the infirmary a while ago to personally warn them.

The Marines had tapped their call. It wasn’t their fault, it was an emergency and they didn’t have any better options at the time, but until they got word from the Moby, they needed to assume every call was being listened in on.

Deuce knew all about the blackout protocols, he and the rest of the Spades had been trained in them during the early days of joining the crew, and nobody was officially assigned to a division until they passed Commander Haruta’s rigorous exam. (Ace failed three times before Lex started making fun of him about it, and that was the only thing that got his ass in gear enough to actually put some effort in.)

Without a white transponder snail on the submarine, getting in touch with one of the few encrypted snails about the Moby was about to become a hell of a lot harder.

There was nothing to do about it for now. Deuce wasn’t a tactician. Sure, he could wrangle unruly pirates if he had to, but he was a doctor first. Gunnar and his more experienced brothers could handle things with the Fleet. For now, Deuce was most useful patching up their injured brothers.

Trafalgar Law glances up from the bloody arm he’s sewing back together—and Deuce politely pretends that Winslow isn’t turning green from the sight of a little blood—to look over at him.

“How’d you get stuck picking us up?” Deuce’s voice is light and conversational, a sharp contrast to the gloom of the other Whitebeards waiting for their turn to be patched up. They’re always so dramatic about getting medical attention. Law’s eyes flick over to him before returning to his patient.

“We were heading to Sabaody,” the Supernova answers, the needle flashing in and out of skin with speed and precision that Deuce is more than a little jealous of. The captain is one hell of a surgeon, even without his overpowered Devil Fruit. “Wasn’t too far out of our way considering your Fleet is going to take you off our hands there.”

Deuce nods, moving on to the next patient in line. C-tack hisses at the sting of the disinfectant but Deuce ignores the reaction to focus on cleaning the wound; his brother once tanked a hit from Jack the Drought without so much as a flinch. He can handle a little bit of rubbing alcohol.

“So are you officially part of the family now?” Deuce asks curiously. Law freezes. There’s a moment when the infirmary stands still, silent except for the beeping of the many pieces of medical equipment, and then Law scoffs derisively.

“That will never happen,” the pirate captain swears so fervently that Deuce’s chest aches because he remembers the many, many, many times that Ace swore the exact same thing. As soon as he has his idiot commander back safe and sound, he’s going to beat some common sense into him until it finally sticks.

“Ahuh,” Deuce makes eye contact with Saber, sharing a moment of amusement with his fellow ex-Spade. Darwin attempts to disguise his laughter as a cough, doubling down as he pretends to be particularly absorbed in inspecting his bandage. Deuce returns to picking bits of muck and seaweed out of the seeping cut.

“Your captain owes me a debt,” Law glowers. The motion of his fingers becomes sharper and more pronounced, but Deuce notices with no small amount of humor that Providence isn’t showing even a bit of discomfort under the needle. The Rookie can pretend to be heartless all he wants, but even agitated, he’s still the most careful surgeon Deuce has ever seen. “Once he’s paid it, we’ll be enemies again.”

“Right,” Deuce agrees, “Although, with all these favors, Pops is going to be in your debt for a long time.”

Law glares at him, gold stare piercing through him in a way that’s probably terrifying to the pirates of Paradise. Deuce has had to pry raw meat from Portgas D. Ace’s maw on too many occasions; to him, the Rookie is about as intimidating as a wet kitten.

“Don’t suture that,” Law snaps.

Deuce blinks, looking down at the gaping wound on C-tack’s arm. It’s cleaned out and disinfected but it’s too big to stay closed with just a bandage. He’s already threaded the needle to start stitching it up.

“Why not?”

Law holds up a gloved hand and calls, “Room. Scan.”

That blue light washes over the infirmary and Deuce blinks in surprise as little pinpricks of light blink up in a few places along his crewmates’ injuries. The tip of something pokes out of C-tack’s cut, small enough that Deuce couldn’t see it under all the blood and dirt. But lit up with the power of the Supernova’s fruit, he can see that it goes much deeper under the skin than he ever could have guessed, and judging by the edges, it’s sharp.

“Glass shard,” Law explains, already turning back to Providence, “You close it up like that, it’s going to cause major problems.”

C-tacks makes the mistake of looking down at his arm, and Deuce’s big, strong, fighter of a brother goes pale.

“C… can’t you magic it out?” C-tack asks, his eyes fixed on the shard of glass lodged deep in his arm.

“I’m busy,” Law smirks. C-tack gulps.

“Relax,” Deuce assures him, “It’s only going to sting a little.”

C-tack looks around the infirmary, trying to find a brother brave enough to make eye contact with him, before looking pitifully at Winslow.

“Hold my hand?”

“Hey! I just told you it’s not going to hurt,” Deuce protests through his stinging pride.

“C’mon Deuce, you know he’s a big baby,” Winslow teases. But despite that, he does cross the room to stand near enough to offer C-tack his hand. Deuce just rolls his eyes and reaches for a clean scalpel. He’ll have to enlarge the incision to tweeze the shard out, it’s the only way to remove it neatly.

Law flies through patients while Deuce carefully extracts the glass. Various Whitebeards and Heart pirates come in and out, Whitebeards for treatment of injuries they didn’t think were that bad, and Hearts to check in on their captain and make sour faces behind the Whitebeards’ back. Deuce remembers those days well.

He also remembers Fossa catching Mihar and Skull sneering at him a few weeks into their kidnapping (sometime around Ace’s twentieth attempt to kill Whitebeard) and thinks for a second that the Hearts are very lucky that their captain is the only one able to assign them bathroom cleaning duties.

“Word of advice,” Deuce offers a while later, as he’s finally bandaging the slash on C-tack’s arm and Law is cleaning up his station, “Most of us aren’t captains, so it was a little different for us. But I’ve seen it enough times to know.”

“To know what?” Law asks tiredly. He barely used his fruit in the last few hours, and Deuce suddenly thinks there might be more to that than just the fact that he wants to keep his surgery skills sharp. If the Rookie doesn’t go take a nap, he’ll have a quiet word with that Mink, between First Mates. (Or ex-first mate, but whatever)

“You’re a captain,” Deuce explains.

“And?”

“And Pops likes you.”

“I’m a captain and your Pops likes me. That’s what you think I needed to know?”

Deuce smirks at the dry humor.

“I’m just saying. You’re a captain and Pops likes you, that’s all there is to it.”

“I don’t follow.”

C-tack looks at Deuce and the two share a moment of pity, because this poor bastard doesn’t realize it’s already too late. Deuce won’t be the first one to call him brother but he knows that particular development is inevitable.

“Oh, you will,” Deuce says before nodding at C-tack to let him know he’s good to go, then peeling off his gloves and heading for the handwash station.

It takes a full day to reach an island. You’re dangerously dehydrated from all the tears you’ve cried because you’ve been pulled along underwater at breakneck speeds for hours and hours and your broken wrist is howling in agony. It’s ridiculously swollen and it hurts to even look at it and your lungs are burning like you just smoked an entire pack of Fossa’s cigars because you have to hold your breath for minutes at a time nonstop the entire way. You’re also freezing cold from being submerged for so long and the fact that Earl is warm-blooded is the only reason you haven’t literally frozen to death.

Every time Earl tries to stop so you can rest, you insist that he keeps going. Your wrist is only going to get worse without medical treatment and the only real option is to get to land as soon as possible.

When the shoreline finally comes into view and you can see the sand bank against the trees, your aching leg muscles seize and your grip finally gives out. You slip off Earl’s back and it’s only the rope-like coils of his mane tied around your wrist that keep you from floating away. He reacts immediately, doubling back to curl under you and raise you up out of the ocean. You’re both beyond exhausted at this point, so all you can manage is a quiet “thank you” as he lets the currents pull you both to shore.

You have quite literally never felt worse in your entire life.

Physically or emotionally.

Poor Earl collapses against the beach, looking like the world’s most exhausted sand sculpture. All you want is to pass out. But your wrist is still broken and you haven’t had anything to drink in over a day so you have no choice but to fix one of those before you do. The universe sends you the most incredible of miracles and between that and Earl saving your ass from certain death, you’re pretty sure you’ve used up all the luck you’ll ever have.

It takes you almost ten minutes to use your frigid fingers to untie yourself from Earl’s mane and then another twenty minutes to shimmy up the tree and you knock down every single coconut you can possibly reach. You don’t know how you made it up here in the first place and you will not be able to make it back up again.

When you finally make it back to the ground, your arms are shaking, your legs buckle with every step, your vision has gone fully gray, and you have a headache that’s trying to split your brain in half. You smash open the first coconut with a rock and chug the water down. When the water’s gone, you scrape out the meat with your fingers and eat every last bit.

You’ve always hated coconuts, but right now it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever had in your life.

Four coconuts later, you stagger over to drop Earl’s portion of the coconuts onto the sand before collapsing in a heap in the little nook made by the curl of his body, shivering so hard you can hear your teeth chattering as you press yourself closer to his warm bulk. He loops his tail up to cover you like a very wet but warm blanket.

The feeling of lying boneless in the warm, solid sand after nearly twenty-four hours of clinging to your friend’s neck for dear life through freezing cold water, the indescribable feeling of your desperate thirst sated and your cramping stomach slowly realizing its been fed, Earl’s warmth radiating off him and the satisfied sounds he makes as he digs into his food, your friend wrapped around you on all sides, protecting you from the entire world… you’re safe. You’re finally safe.

 You can only watch through lidded eyes as he crunches up half the pile in an instant, exhaling in relief that you could do something to help him after he saved you. He nudges you with his nose and you pass out to the sound of him contentedly chewing on the coconut husks.

When you wake up, you feel better. Obviously, your arm feels worse, but you don’t feel like you’re about to die any second. Earl looks better too. You break open another coconut, drink the water and scoop out the meat. You give Earl the husks to play with and laugh for the first time in days when he crushes them in delight and shakes the fibers around in his mouth.

It almost distracts you from the fact that you’re injured, you have no money, and your sword (the sword that belonged to Gol D. Roger himself, the gift that your dad entrusted to you) is long gone. Also the fact that Blackbeard has Ace and you have no idea if the rest of your brothers survived the explosion at all.

After breakfast, you do your best to explain the plan to your sea king friend and then you head deeper into the island to look for civilization while he slithers back into the water to hunt for his lunch. There’s the faintest glow of something at the edge of your Haki, and you let it lead you through the jungle. After yesterday, the hour it takes you to reach the small town is nothing.

There’s a tavern near the edge of the trees and you head straight for it. When you push the door open to the sound of brightly jingling bells, silence falls. You probably look like a sea monster chewed you up and spat you back out with your ruined clothing and blood caked on your neck and a wrist so bruised and swollen it looks like a balloon.

You approach the bar where the barmaid is staring at you in horror. You try your best to smile and look pathetic. At least you’ve got that second part in the bag.

“Do you have a snail?”

The barmaid—her name is Martha, and she has a son about your age that you would bet your last Berry is named either Bruce or Clark—rushes you into the back room and sets to work wrapping your broken wrist. At his mother’s insistence, Bruce-slash-Clark brings you a big tankard of water and a heaping plate of food before being sent out of the room.

Martha sits next to you and helps you dial the number, then wraps her arm around you while you wait for it to ring.

The snail rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And then falls silent. The snail looks up at Martha and shakes its head.

Your mouth falls open as shock punches you in the stomach. They didn’t answer?!?!

“Try again!” you beg Martha, who purses her lips together and dials the same number. The snail tries its best, ringing and ringing and ringing, but the same thing happens.

“Try another number!” you demand, telling her the number for a different ship. Martha does.

The same thing happens. She lets you try three other numbers, which should all connect to the Moby Dick and the other ships in the Fleet. You even try your dad’s personal number. But they never connect. If you could just call one of the Allied ships you could reach them, but all the numbers are inside your notebook which is probably at the bottom of the ocean near Banaro.

Martha looks down at you sadly.

“I’m sorry, hon, that only happens when the line is busy.”

You swallow, trying to breathe through the crushing disappointment and dread. You know why the lines—all the lines for all the Moby’s snails—are busy.

The Whitebeard Grand Fleet is getting ready for war.

You take a deep breath, the deepest you can manage, and curl your hands into fists.

“I need a ship and a snail,” you say, looking Martha straight in the eyes, “I can’t pay for it now, but I promise I will come back and pay in full. I have to get back to them.”

Martha nods, brushing off her skirt.

“Come with me.”

The island disappears from sight in minutes. You lean over the edge of the ship and pat Earl’s neck gratefully. Your new ship is tiny, and it can only hold enough supplies for a few days. But it’s sea worthy and the islanders gave it to you for free, so it’s absolutely perfect.

You check the log pose they gave you and it matches Earl’s heading perfectly. You don’t know how you found the world’s fastest sea king or the sea king with the best possible sense of direction, but you’re infinitely grateful.

This is a horrible plan. But it’s the only one you’ve got.

You can’t reach your family and you’ve been trying nonstop. So your backup plan is to get yourself to Sabaody and somehow convince Rayleigh to interfere. Plus, the odds are good that they’ll answer a transponder call from Shakky.

Your backup plan isn’t really the problem.

It’s your backup backup plan. Plans.

Everything is going to hell. If there’s anything you can do to change the odds even a tiny bit, you have to try.

You stare down at the snail and the snail stares back at you. Earl keeps swimming, determined to make it to the archipelago in record time.

“This could go really badly, Earl,” you mutter because you’re absolutely terrified. But the odds of actually reaching them are slim to none, not a single person you’ve called so far has answered. You keep trying, because your family is preparing for war and they don’t have any way to know if you’re even alive, but the line is always busy. In emergencies, the lines always prioritize calls within the Fleet.

You reach for the snail and dial one of the earliest numbers you memorized, one of many pieces of information you obtained back when you were still too little for the Whitebeards to even consider the need to hide documents from you. You worked really hard to keep them from figuring out that your crayon drawings weren’t just scribbles, and your foray into drawing on the walls as a toddler was less about causing mayhem and more about testing to see if anyone would realize you were writing in shorthand. Turns out, you’re pretty sure shorthand doesn’t exist in this world, which is lucky for you. You still memorized a few key pieces of information before you figured that out.

Too bad your notebook is now gone forever. Along with the contact numbers for the Sun Pirates, both lines for the Revolutionary Army, and every number you’ve ever gotten for the Allied Fleet.

You are fucking kicking yourself that the Red Force wasn’t one of the numbers you memorized. You just never imagined you wouldn’t be able to call from the Moby. And why the fuck didn’t you memorize the number Hack gave you??? Karasu could pick you up from the middle of the ocean, you could already be in Baltigo by now.

You take a deep breath and wait with baited breath as the snail starts ringing. After a couple of agonizing seconds, against all odds, there’s a click as the call connects. The snail’s eyes sharpen, its eyelids sprouting long lashes and its lips filling out with red lipstick.

“I don’t know this number, who is this?”

Your heart stops and you can’t even believe your sudden luck. You put the receiver to your mouth and don’t bother even trying to hide your nerves; it’ll be more convincing if the snail shows how scared you are.

“Is this Big Mom?”

“How did you get this number?” the Emperor demands sharply. You take a shaky breath, leaning into your physical age to sound as terrified and overwhelmed as any fourteen-year-old out on her own in the middle of the Grand Line should reasonably be. It’s very easy to sound terrified and overwhelmed.

“I… I got it from my brother. Um, I’m Alex— Alexandria and I…”

“Alexandria?” Big Mom cuts you off before you can get any farther. The suspicion in her eyes changes to greed in a heartbeat, “Not Newgate’s daughter, are you?”

You nod, then remember it won’t come across well over the snail and you stammer, “I… I am.”

The hunger in the Emperor’s eyes can’t be tempered by things like distance and being communicated through the eyes of a snail transponder. Your stomach tightens. You know this is an incredibly dangerous and risky idea, but you’re in way too far to turn back and if you play your cards right, the reward will be completely worth it. But then Linlin’s face softens and there’s genuine warmth and concern in her voice.

“Oh, sweetheart, you must be so scared! Where are you now? Your father has the entire New World up in arms looking for you!”

You swallow, aware that Big Mom is studying every expression that crosses your face. The surge of guilt is very, very real.

“I’m in Paradise,” you say quietly. You don’t fight the tremors in your voice because this only works if she thinks it’s her idea. “I know I shouldn’t have run away but I was so angry and I just wanted to prove—I didn’t want this to happen!”

You don’t mean to start crying but you are now, and very quickly it turns into sobs that wrack your whole body.

“Oh, there there, sweetheart. It’s alright; Mama’s here,” Big Mom croons. You know she’s a power-hungry psychopath but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t desperate for the comfort.

“They’re going to execute Ace!” you wail, your failures crushing down on you. You should’ve told Teach the Whitebeards were off limits when you gave him the fruit. God, he’s probably already forgotten about the favor he owes you. All this was for nothing; you had thirteen years to plan and all you’ve done is make things worse. “But it’s a trap! They want to kill my dad and—”

You try to take a breath but the sobs just turn into hiccupping cries.

“They have—” shuddering breath “—a hundred-thousand” small gasp “troops and the whole Navy and—” you can’t stop crying long enough to get the words out but you have to, you have to do whatever it takes “—it’s a trap!”

Big Mom lets you cry it out before drawing the details out of you with a level of patience that’s quite honestly mind-boggling given what you remember from the Whole Cake Arc. But then again, you and Luffy are very different people and she clearly wants something from you.

She asks for the whole story and you tell her everything. Or at least, the story you want people to know. From the fight with Whitebeard, the split-second decision to steal your brother’s Devil Fruit before he could eat it, stowing away on different merchant ships to hitch a ride across the Red Line, stealing a boat and getting blown off course, somehow winding up on Banaro Island where your brothers tracked you down, the traitor stealing the Devil Fruit right out of your hands, your brothers fighting Blackbeard and his new crew, and you barely escaping the explosion with your life.

You have no idea if the story is believable. There’s a lot of holes in it, but it is based around the truth and you’re a hysterically sobbing teenage girl, so an experienced (if shitty) mother like Charlotte Linlin will be expecting some level of histrionics and exaggeration.

When you’re done, you feel raw and exhausted and it feels like someone scraped all the emotions out of you with a garden trowel. Everything since leaving the Moby Dick has been such a blur and you’ve been so focused on figuring out how to avoid the canon ending, but even saying an edited version of everything you’ve done out loud…

Holy fuck. You can’t even imagine the utter hell you put your family through. You were so focused on saving Thatch and getting Teach to out himself as a traitor without killing any of your family members that you didn’t realize until right now that your family found out the hard way they sent a traitor to you track you down.

Hell, after that explosion, they don’t even know if you’re alive right now.

Just like you don’t even know if the rest of Second Division made it.

Big Mom makes a motherly clucking sound, and you’re pretty sure that if she was physically here, she’d wrap you up in a big bear hug before manipulating you into doing what she wants.

“Alexandria, sweetheart, I am sorry you’ve been through all of that. Just tell me what I can do to help you? Or better yet, why don’t you tell me where you are? I’ll send a ship to bring you back to the New World, safe and sound.”

To the New World. Not back to Whitebeard. You sniffle loudly and shake your head.

“No, I… I need… I want to ask for a favor.”

“A favor?” Big Mom asks in surprise. Beneath your very real tears, you notice that some of the surprise is genuine. Did she really think you were calling without a plan?

“Ahuh,” you answer quietly, wiping at the tears dripping down your face, “I… I know you have no reason to help me, and I don’t have anything you want, but I… this is all my fault and I have to do something!”

“What’s the favor?”

You take a deep breath.

“If… if you attack Mar… with the whole fleet at Marineford, they won’t have anyone guarding Marie Geoise. If you attack before the execution, they’ll have to divert soldiers. They… the Navy needs everyone to take on my dad, if your crew pulls even a couple heavy hitters away, they’ll have a chance!”

“Hmm…” Big Mom says, and it’s more than you could have ever hoped for that she doesn’t refuse outright, “That’s quite a risk. I don’t want you to get hurt, sweetheart, but there are better ways for me to ensure your safety.”

You swallow. That isn’t a no. It’s an opening to bargain.

“The Nobles have all the treasure in the world,” you start. And then you add, “And all the best food in the world, too! Feasts like you’ve never had in your life!”

“Mamamama!” Big Mom laughs, “Clever girl! Offering me what I want! But the point stands, it’s still too big a risk.”

“We’ll owe you! Whatever you want, my dad—no. I’ll do whatever you want. Anything it takes!”

“Anything?” Big Mom sounds surprised, but you can hear the hunger of a predator within it, “That’s quite an offer.”

“Whatever you want. I mean it.”

“I can tell. You’re quite a brave girl, Alexandria. I’ll tell you right now that what I want is for you to be safe. So, I’d like you to come live with me in Totto Land.”

“For how long?” you ask immediately.

“Well… once we’re all back in the New World and everything’s settled down… how about a month?”

“Done.”

You don’t even have to think about it. If everyone dies in Marineford, there won’t be anywhere left for you to go. You’ll have much, much bigger problems than Big Mom. And if she keeps her end of the deal and it’s enough for your family to make it out alive, you’d gladly give a year of your life as payment. A month is more than fair. If you make it that far, you’ll have time to figure out a way to weasel out of her trap.

“But…” she continues and your chest tightens. Of course there’s more. “I have something else in mind.”

There’s only one other number you know. One that you never in a million years imagined you would ever call.  But as insane as it is, you don’t have any other options.

Really, none. You can’t get in contact with your family. You can’t remember any other numbers. Until you land on Sabaody, this is the only thing you can do. Even if it’s absolutely insane.

You have to try.

You take a long drink of water, wipe your eyes, and dial it. When the call connects, you don’t waste any time.

“Whattaya want?” the voice on the other end growls.

“My name is Edward Alexandria,” you say without preamble, your voice barely trembling at all, “I thought you might be interested to know that the World Government is cloning Lunarians as living weapons on Egghead Island. And that the entire Navy has been called to Marineford for the execution.”

You hang up to the sound of a sake bottle shattering.

Was that a horrendous idea? Absolutely. Do the Red-Haired pirates have a chance at making it in time with Kaido’s fleet occupied elsewhere?

Yes.

While Earl pulls you towards Sabaody as fast as he safely can, you don’t stop trying to call your family. Marco’s number, your dad’s number, Haruta’s, the Moby, the other ships in the fleet, the Sun Pirates, every number you even vaguely remember part of. None of them answer.

The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach grows stronger and stronger with every dial tone. You’ve finally figured out that they’re not just busy. It’s a full communications blackout. The only calls they’re accepting are through encrypted lines. They’re not going to answer, not even if they see the same number calling thirty times over; even if they think it’s you, the blackout is the response to the Marines intercepting calls. The absolute last thing you need is to tell the Marines where you are and that you’re a sitting duck.

As reality sets in that you’re not going to be able to contact your family, your snail grows more and more parched. You give him as much water as you can spare (which isn’t much at all) and refocus your efforts on remembering Shanks’ number.

You’ve seen it dozens of times. It’s one string of numbers and your family’s lives depend on it. You try over and over, the number hazy in the back of your mind but you know it’s there. You do every mental exercise you can think of, ignoring the throbbing pain in your wrist and the persistent headache from your growing dehydration because you have to get through this, you have to remember. You have to.

When you’re reasonably sure you have at least half of it, you turn back to your snail. You try every combination of numbers you can think of, with dozens of calls to nowhere and a heart stopping number of false alarms that you hang up on immediately to not waste your snail’s dwindling stamina, and you’re trying a combination that feels righter than the others when the snail coughs and fixes its eye stalks on you with a doleful and sullen refusal.

“Please!” you beg, trying to enter the last number as it digs in and refuses to let you, “I’m sure it’s right, please just let me try it!”

It takes another mouthful of water that you really can’t spare but the snail allows you to try one more time. The snail opens its mouth to start ringing and then you hear it!

The unhappy buzzer sound of a misdial.

“No!” you protest, staring at the snail in horror, “That was it! I know it was—”

No, it wasn’t. It was close. The number was the closest you’ve gotten, but the end bit just isn’t right. The snail closes its eyes and goes to sleep and you pace the deck, determined to think until you remember it or you wear a hole straight through the wooden planks.

“I’VE GOT IT!” you shout, sprinting over to the snail as you chant the numbers to yourself. You don’t have anything to write with and nothing to write on, but a tiny bit of Haki coating your fingernail lets you carve the number into the deck. You can’t breathe until it’s written in stone in front of you where you can’t forget it again. You’re sure this time, it took a ridiculous amount of time to remember where you first heard it and recreate the scene in your head, but you’ve figured it out. The last three numbers were out of order, but you also swapped two digits in the middle.

You’re positive this time.

“I’ve got it!” you tell the snail, reaching for the receiver. The snail blinks open one exhausted eye and your Haki is overwhelmed with a sudden rush of “like hell are you making another call.”

“I know you’re tired,” you beg the snail, dropping to your knees to put your face at the same height as its eyes, your shaking hand rising up to pet his shell. Your broken wrist hurts like hell and your head is pounding but you’re so close, “But please, I am begging you, I swear this is the last call and then you can sleep as much as you want. Please, they don’t know if I’m alive, I have to!”

The snail stares at you.

“I have the number, I’m positive!”

Slowly and without breaking eye contact, the snail tilts its shell towards your and unclamps its jaw.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

You dial the number as carefully as you can because there are no do-overs, and you can’t breathe as it starts ringing.

Against all odds, the calls connects. Your stomach drops through the deck of your ship and down into the ocean and your heart bursts into motion, slamming against the wall of your ribs.

“Hel—”

“PLEASELETMETALKTOSHANKS!” you burst out before they can even finish.

You hear a loud exclamation from far away, and then scrambling and scuffling and shoving and feet charging across a deck.

“Alexandria?!”

The sound of his voice breaks you. You can’t even get through a single word before you burst into tears and crumble to the ground, clutching the receiver to your chest with your uninjured hand. You sob, all the pain and terror and guilt bursting free because this is all your fault, you were a fucking idiot to ever believe you could trust Teach not to screw you over and everything you did was for nothing and now your family is even worse off than if you never even existed at all.

This is all your fault.

You should never have been born into this world.

All you’ve done is fuck everything up.

“Hey, hey, hey, just breathe kid, just breathe. Okay? You hear my voice? Just listen to me and breathe, that’s it. You’re okay, kid, I’m here. You’re okay, Frog.”

Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Shanks talks you down off the ledge until you’re trembling on the deck of your little ship.

“You scared the shit out of us, kid, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice. Are you hurt?”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and immediately give up.

“…my arm,” you answer numbly, tears spilling over your cheeks, “I think he broke my wrist.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Shanks lets out a long exhale, low and shaky, and then he inhales and puts on a serious face.

“Where are you now?”

“I’m on a ship. A little one, Martha gave it to me. And the snail. And some Berry. She's really nice. Earl is taking me to Sabaody.”

“Shit, Frog you… Sabaody will be crawling with Marines, you can’t just land there and hope for the best, you’ll have to—”

“Grove Thirteen,” you cut him off, “Shakky’s Rip Off bar. R…Rayleigh might be there too.”

Shanks’ eyes widen in shock. Before your eyes, your exhausted snail starts nodding.

“Good. Okay, Frog, listen to me. You’re going to get yourself to the Rip Off bar and you are going to do exactly what Shakky tells you, okay? She’ll keep you safe until we can get to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper back. If things are heading where you think they are, Shakky is the best person to be with. Anything you know that might help, she’ll be able to pass on to your family.

“I’m going to tell her you’re coming, I’ll see if she can track down Rayleigh too. They’ll be waiting for you.”

“Okay,” you say again.

“Where are you now? As close to the exact coordinates as you can get.”

“I don’t know,” you answer because Earl’s traveling speed depends on if he can find enough to eat on his brief hunting trips.

“That’s o—lray—don’t think—meet—there.”

Shanks’ voice comes out all fuzzy and there’s a whining tone that gets louder and louder as he talks. Your heart skips a beat, panic rising in your throat.

“I can’t hear you, the connection is messed up!”

“Your snail is burning out!” Shanks realizes, practically shouting into the transponder to make sure you can hear him.

“What?!”

“Listen to me. You are going to make it, do you understand me? I know you’re going to make it. Everything is going to be okay. All you need to do is focus on making it to Sabaody in one piece. Can you say that back to me?"

“I’m going to make it,” you answer immediately, seizing Shanks’ confidence like a lifeline because you didn’t realize until this moment how badly you’re drowning.

“Good girl. I love you, Frog.”

“I love you too! And Shanks, tell my dad I’m okay!” you beg, “Tell them I love them all and I’m sor—”

Your snail conks out.

The poor thing practically oozes out of the transponder set, face-planting against the table with a thunk, little steam lines rising off its shell. For a second, you’re terrified that it’s dead.

But then it lets out a little groan and turns over, staring up at you with dizzy but pleading eyes, begging to know if he did a good job, and you know that he gave it his all to give you that last call. Your heart aches.

“Thank you,” you whisper, reaching out to pet him with a trembling hand as the receiver tumbles out of your grip, “Thank you so much, you did amazing.”

The snail’s Haki presence glows with pride and satisfaction before the little guy passes out. You hear little snores emanate from the little mouth and the fear in your chest loosens. He’s going to be okay. And you’re going to make the best lunch you possibly can to thank him with.

“Shanks, this better be important, it’s the middle of the night.”

“She’s heading to Sabaody.”

Instantly, Haruta is wide awake.

“Hang on a second,” he breathes as he throws himself out of bed and grabs the snail as he sprints out of his room. He makes it to Pops’ room in record time, and his charging through the ship in the middle of the night attracted enough attention that there’s a whole crowd gathered around to hear.

“Frog called me,” Shanks explains and Haruta feels the vice grip around his heart loosen for the first time in months, “She got herself a little ship and a snail, her sea king is towing her to Sabaody. I’ll call Shakky as soon as we’re done here, give her the heads up and see if she can track down Rayleigh.”

“She’s alright?” Pops asks, his voice so tight Haruta would be shocked if his father could even breathe right now. Not that he’s doing much breathing himself.

“Broken wrist. Said her supplies were a little tight. But she’s alive and has some Berry and she’s got a plan. The Ripoff bar was her idea.”

Thatch lets out a sound like a wounded cry and collapses against Vista’s shoulder, forehead pressing against his shirt. Vista wraps an arm around his brother and the two of them hold each other in sheer relief. Haruta feels fingers wrap around his wrist and he grabs hold of his brother’s wrist and squeezes back.

She’s okay.

Pops was right. She made it out on her own.

And she’s heading to Sabaody. Whitey Bay and her crew are already en-route to rendezvous with the Heart pirates, they’ll be able to pick up Lexie along with the Second Division.

Or maybe she can stay there, with Shakky and the first mate of the King of the Pirates watching over her, Sabaody is probably the safest place for her to hide while the Whitebeards go after Ace.

But the details aren’t important right now. There’s only space for one single thought inside Haruta’s head.

Lexie is okay. She’s okay.

“We all need to be careful,” Hatchan warns them as Robin’s crew takes in the strange geography of the plant-life growing atop the mangrove’s roots, “The archipelago can be dangerous at the best of times, now more than ever.”

“I assume that has something to do with the Emperor in these waters,” Robin muses, sprouting an eye to keep watch as her captain hurls himself into the air, springing from one surprisingly robust bubble to the next as he climbs higher into the air than any non-rubber human could manage without risking their lives with a likely neck-breaking fall.

Hatchan nods.

“Tensions are running high,” the octopus fishman continues, “Pirates, the Navy, and everyone in between. I’m sorry to rush you through, but the safest thing to do is keep your heads down and get your ship coated as fast as possible.”

“This place is that dangerous?” Franky asks incredulously as Luffy lets out a confused shout as he discovers that the bubbles can’t maintain their form at immense elevations. Robin tilts her head, curious to hear the answer as well.

“Well, it’s not the archipelago as much as it is where it’s located. See, Sabaody is close to Marine Headquarters. If there’s any serious trouble, they’ll send out vice admirals faster than you can blink! And if it’s bad enough, they might even send an Admiral! Nobody wants to risk that right now.”

“I see,” Robin says.

“How dramatic,” Brook agrees, and Robin doesn’t need to sprout a fourth eye to see that his attention has wandered over to the crater where their captain’s head is lodged into the spongy ground.

“In any case, we should all stick together as much as possible,” Hatchan finishes, “You should leave a few people to watch over your ship. Everyone else will come with us to meet the coater.”

“Sounds like a SUPER plan!”

“Back already?” a woman asks as Hatchan pushes through the door. Robin’s captain pushes inside right after, giving her the space to see the woman blink in surprise as the Straw Hats enter the bar, “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closed for a private—wait a minute, is that you, Hatchan?”

“Hi Shakky,” Hatchan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, we didn’t realize you were closed, we can—”

“Don’t be silly, come on in! You and your friends are always welcome! How long has it been?”

“Little over ten years,” Hatchan answers.

“Were you expecting someone?” Robin asks curiously.

“Just a friend who’s staying with me. She’ll be back soon, she just stepped out to meet some new arrivals,” Shakky smiles at all of them, and Robin doesn’t miss the tension in her shoulders and pinched look in her eyes as she scans across the faces of the Straw Hats filling her bar. “In the meantime, please, come in! I’ve heard so much about your crew, Monkey, I’m excited to finally meet you. Would you like something to—”

Shakky turns to see Luffy already raiding her fridge, cramming loose ingredients and groceries into his mouth in his typical style. Instead of getting mad, the bar owner just chuckles.

“I see you’re one step ahead of me.”

Chapter Text

Shakky gets them all settled in at a big round table and brings out drinks and food before joining them. The conversation is light and fascinating although the woman is obviously preoccupied with something, and it’s clear that the bar owner knows quite about more about Robin’s crew—and captain—than Luffy is aware of. Still, Robin feels plenty at ease in this curious bar; whatever secrets this Shakky holds, she doesn’t seem to have any ill intentions towards the Straw Hat crew.

Nami and Hatchan have just finished explaining their upcoming trip to Fishman Island when a bell sounds.

“Please excuse me,” Shakky apologizes, “It seems my friends are back.”

The door opens with a jingle and Robin looks over as Shakky immediately moves to go greet them.

It’s curious. Despite the bar owner claiming these were the friends staying with her, she doesn’t look particularly happy to see any of them.

“You know, the two of you could be siblings,” Shakky says, exhaling a stream of smoke after pulling the burning cigarette away from her mouth. The woman she’s talking to claps a hand on the shoulder of the man who followed her inside; it’s clear their host is talking about the blue hair they have in common, although the shade is a bit different.

“Good news, Shakky, we are,” the woman answers. She’s teasing, but her voice has a tightness to it that matches the bar owner’s. Now that Robin has a chance to really look, she recognizes the woman. Recognizes both of them actually. Whitey Bay is quite a notorious figure with a very large bounty, after all. “This is Masked Deuce, he’s part of the second. Deuce, this is Shakky, an old friend of mine from back in the days when Pops still had hair on his head.”

“Nice to meet you,” Deuce greets, reaching forward to shake Shakky’s hand.

“I’ve heard of you,” Shakky assesses him as she shakes the pirate’s hand, “First mate of the Spades, if I remember correctly?”

“And I followed my captain straight into trouble,” Deuce agrees, “Sure seems like nothing’s changed since those days.”

Shakky shakes her head at that, stubbing out the end of her cigarette on the bar’s ashtray.

“I heard you boys ran into some trouble after that first mess, I’m relieved to see you made it out of there. I take it this means your division arrived on the archipelago?”

Deuce nods.

“Pops has his eye on one of the new crews, the captain packs a hell of a punch for a rookie and he’s willing to help out when Pops asks. He got us here without too much trouble.”

“Anyone I’ve heard of?”

“That’s not a fair question, you’ve got your nose in everything,” Whitey Bay snorts. Shakky shakes her head in exasperation and Robin can see the familiarity between them; it’s clear the two women have known each other for a very long time indeed.

“It’s not official yet, I’m naming no names,” Deuce answers instead.

“I can respect that.”

Shakky reaches for a new cigarette and lights it up without hesitation. The woman seems much too healthy and spry to be such an avid smoker, Robin would bet her Devil Fruit that there’s something more to the Whitebeards’ presence in her bar.

“I assume you’re all heading out soon?”

Deuce nods. Whitey Bay’s mouth tightens into a line. Robin’s crew is still at their circular table, drinking their free drinks and enjoying the fruits of their raid on their host’s fridge, and none of them seem to be paying much attention to the fascinating conversation going on in front of them.

“I won’t be gone an hour, I’m coming back as soon as I’ve delivered them to the base,” Whitey answers, “There’s still a few days before Pops needs me there, but they need the second back as soon as possible. Deuce pulled the short straw, so he’s here to help me carry some things.”

Fascinating. She must mean Whitebeard, how curious that an Allied Captain as fearsome and notorious as Whitey Bay is playing ferry.

“I also wanted to stop by and see if Rayleigh was here,” Deuce adds, “He was the coater that did our ship for us last time. Some of the guys said he might be here, if you’ve heard of him.”

“Hmmm. Rayleigh… that name doesn’t ring much of a bell,” Shakky taps her chin so convincingly that Robin would never know she was lying if she and Hatchan hadn’t had a conversation about the man a mere twenty minutes before. Whitey Bay snorts again and punches Deuce in the arm.

“They’re married, genius,” Whitey tells him.

“Dumb question, then,” Deuce nods, taking the teasing in stride, “He’s not here?”

The mood instantly grows heavy.

“I don’t know where he is now,” Shakky answers, taking another long drag of her cigarette, “I tracked him down a few days ago, but he hasn’t been back since he headed out again. I have to stay here to man the lines, otherwise I’d be out there with him.”

Deuce frowns and takes the sudden quiet as an excuse to look at the other customers. Robin nods her head, touching the tips of her fingers to the brim of her hat to pull it down over her face. The pirate’s gaze slides right past her and over the other Straw Hats.

Nami convinced Sanji to stay behind and guard their treasure while Zoro protects the Thousand Sunny from attack. Franky and Usopp are with them, both to refuel their cola reserves and to keep the swordsman and chef from ripping the ship apart.

The rest of Robin’s crew makes a lively sight, with Hatchan and Camie and the funny little talking starfish eating and drinking along with them. Nami is too enamored by the fact that their hostess is feeding their ravenous captain for free to pay much attention to Shakky’s friends; Robin is certain she’d be intrigued by the conversation otherwise.

“More tea, Robin?” Brook asks, holding up the pot.

“I’d love some, thank you,” Robin smiles as she holds up her cup for the skeleton to fill. The novelty of having a walking, talking skeleton for a crewmate is still fresh, and Robin finds it absolutely fascinating to get to study human anatomy and osteology in such an intimate way. The whole time, her third eye tracks the path of the pirate’s focus.

She’s glad for it when the masked pirate’s eyes land on a straw hat and his mouth drops open.

“Luffy,” Robin begins quietly, trying to give him a heads up. There’s no time, though. Masked Deuce’s eyes widen to a comical degree and he points a finger straight at her captain.

“You’re Luffy!”

Luffy turns around at the shout of his name, a giant leg of turkey hanging out the side of his mouth.

“So? Who’re you?”

“You’re Ace’s brother, right?!”

Immediately, Luffy perks up. He swallows—managing to pick the bone clean and toss it down on the plate in the same motion—and then he beams at Masked Deuce in pure excitement.

“You know Ace?”

Robin blinks.

Ace? He can’t be speaking of the former captain of the Spade pirates turned Whitebeard commander, can he? Although it was strange that Fire Fist Ace would be on Alabasta at the same time as the Straw Hat pirates.

Crocodile had written it off as a coincidence, one spurred on by the fact that the Whitebeards and their pesky allies were combing the Grand Line for any sign of the Pirate Princess…

Although…

Well, that is curious.

“Of course I know Ace,” the other pirate responds, “I was his first mate on the Spades before he dissolved the crew to join the Whitebeards. The name’s Deuce. Masked Deuce.”

Luffy lights up like Robin has never seen before and the sight is so all-encompassing that she nearly misses the cigarette dropping from Shakky’s fingers.

“Is Ace here too?!”

“Wait a minute, Monkey,” Shakky interrupts, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s hearing, “What you just said, are you related to Fire Fist Ace?”

Luffy nods vigorous and beams like the sun.

“Yeah! He’s my older brother! Man, I haven’t seen him since Alabasta! Where is he? I saw that paper thing he gave me was on fire, but I knew he could handle it!”

“Monkey, I’m so sorry, I had no idea! Ace—”

“Isn’t here!” Deuce interrupts, shooting a look at Whitey Bay, “But there’s something important he needed me to ask you, has Lex contacted you in the last few days?”

Luffy blinks.

“Who?”

“Are you talking about… Alexandria?” Nami asks with uncharacteristic hesitance.

“Yes, exactly. Ace said she was traveling with you, did Lils get in touch with you?”

“Who is that?” Luffy repeats.

“Alexandria,” Whitey Bay repeats, her tone growing harsher, more impatient and caustic with sarcasm, “Edward Alexandria, you might have heard of her, ringing any bells?”

“Uhh…..”

“Our sister!” Deuce exclaims, “Ace’s sister.”

“Ohhhh!” Luffy realizes with a sudden firing of neurons, “Do you mean—”

And there’s that name again. The strange traveler who’d been living with Crocus and thwarting the numbered agents from feeding the entire town of Whiskey Peak with island whale meat. Robin hadn’t seen or heard a peep about her since Alabasta—Luffy’s only answer had been, “Her? Oh, she’s my sister. She’s going to join the crew when she gets back.”

“Yes! Her, exactly! Did she call you in the last couple days?” Deuce demands.

“No,” Luffy answers all too casually, “But she’ll be back when she’s ready. Besides, she doesn’t want to go with you guys, I wouldn’t tell you anyways.”

Deuce takes a deep breath and exhales in one sharp burst.

“Luffy, you should know. There was an incident. The Devil Fruit that Lex took… there was a traitor on our crew. The handoff was a trap, we barely escaped with our lives, and we got separated from her. She called us to tell us she was heading to Sabaody to meet us. Heading to this bar.”

“She was supposed to have arrived days ago,” Shakky explains, “Rayleigh is searching the archipelago for any sign of her, that’s why he isn’t here.”

“SHE’S MISSING?!” Nami and Chopper shout in unison.

“What happened?!”

“Is she okay? She’s not hurt, is she?!”

The last pieces of the puzzle connect Robin’s her mind.

“Your traveling companion was the Emperor’s Daughter?!” she gasps, “How fascinating.”

“We’ll help,” Luffy announces immediately.

“Please pardon me for interrupting, but there’s something I’m afraid I’m not familiar with,” Brook interrupts bashfully, nodding his head like he’s worried he’s committing a serious social gaffe, “Who is this Alexandria?”

The entire bar stops to stare at him.

“Did that skeleton just talk?” Whitey Bay blinks. Brook nods grandly. “And what do you mean, who is Alexandria?! She’s our sister! Whitebeard’s daughter!”

“Ah, I see! And who is this Whitebeard? Is he one of these rookie pirates I keep hearing about? I’m afraid I haven’t heard of him before.”

“He has no idea about Ace, does he?” Whitey Bay doesn’t wait for even a second to confront him once they’re aboard her ship. Deuce frowns, gripping the railing to steel himself against the painful wave of memories instead of answering. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“You heard about Enies Lobby, didn’t you?” Deuce asks quietly. His throat feels too dry and his fingers aren’t getting enough circulation from how tightly they’re wrapped around the railing.

“Of course I did,” Whitey shoots back, “He’s a crazy kid in a straw hat. But no matter how insane he is, he has a right to know that Ace is up for execution.”

Deuce laughs before he can help himself because he’s spent years hearing Ace go on and on and on (and on and on and on) about his kid brother and the phrase “no matter how crazy” makes it clear that she doesn’t have even the foggiest idea what kind of world-class menace is wrapped up in the name “Monkey D Luffy.”

“Whitey,” he says, “He and his crew attacked Enies Lobby. They destroyed it completely. Enies Lobby used to exist before Luffy got there, and now it doesn’t. What exactly do you think he would do if he found out the Marines have Ace?”

Whitey Bay stares at him like he’s grown a second head while her crew sets to work raising the anchor and casting off.

“He’s just a Rookie. Even if he wanted to, there’s nothing he could do,” she says like it’s obvious. She has no idea.

“Whitey,” Deuce repeats as plainly as he can, “Trust me, if even a tiny bit of Ace’s stories are true, that won’t stop him from doing something so insane it makes Enies Lobby look like a day at the fair. Ace would kill me if I let anything happen to Luffy, it’s best for everyone if he doesn’t know. We’re his crew, we’re going to get him back.”

“And make those Navy bastards regret ever fucking with one of ours,” Whitey Bay agrees, cracking her knuckles in a motion that has no right to be as stomach-droppingly intimidating as it is.

“Besides, Lex and Luffy are friends. And from what I’ve heard, Luffy is a magnet for trouble. If she’s in danger anywhere on Sabaody, he’ll find her. I know he will.”

Wind beneath his wings, clear skies around him, and blue sea below. Marco soars. His flames burn hot, fueled by the ration bars Thatch painstakingly prepared for him. The phoenix can fly for days on end without stopping, weeks if he takes short naps as he flies. But he needs to be at full strength when he finds her, ready to heal any injuries she might have, so he’s religious about partially transforming back every few hours to retrieve the nutrient-dense bars and eat without interrupting his flight. He stops at every island he passes, first to hunt for any sign of his sister, and then to rest and restore his energy for the next leg of the flight.

He's crossed this stretch of sea multiple times already, hopping from island to island with ease; while the rookie crews below battle the Grand Line and all its deadly currents and unpredictable magnetic fields, Marco flies above it all. There’s a familiar tug in his chest and he angles his wings out, adjusting his course to something farther than even his Observation can sense. It’s not the flashiest of all the powers from his Devil Fruit, but over the years he’s learned to how invaluable the phoenix’s ability to find land can be.

He doesn’t know how many islands there are in the shockingly dense stretch between Banaro and Sabaody. All he knows is that the beacon in his pocket (the one currently absorbed into his full zoan form) has stayed stubbornly dark at every island he’s landed on.

Marco refuses to give up. He’s not going to stop searching until he finds his sister or until Pops orders him back.

They’ll need him for the invasion. When his family goes into battle, he’ll be right there with them. But he can’t… he won’t go back a single second before he has to, not until he’s found her.

He didn’t think the guilt could get any worse.

It was Pops’ decision not to let her fight. The punishment for lying to him, barring her from training, ensuring she couldn’t sneak off the Moby unattended, all of it was Pops’ decision. But Marco enforced it. He’s the First Mate, he and his father are a team, even if he’d disagreed in private (and he had. Strenuously. Loudly. Insistently. But Whitebeard is her father and Marco’s captain and in the end, it was his will that won out), he’d backed his father up.

Marco never meant to push her so far, never wanted to hurt her the way he did, and as gut-wrenchingly terrifying as it was to watch his precious sister snap, it’s even worse now.

Lexa knew about Teach.

No, she didn’t just know about traitor. He was training her.

The thought of it makes Marco’s blood boil, fury burning down the tips of his fiery feathers. Every explanation he can come up with is worse than the last, and even the best possible case, where Lexa was desperate enough to get stronger that she’d asked someone she knew was a traitor to make her stronger…

And that’s the best possible case. Knowing about that bastard, it’s disturbingly easy to imagine him threatening her into silence, holding the Whitebeards’ safety over her head to make sure she kept her mouth shut. Or worse, threatening her.

All he can think of is the horror on her face, the way she froze as he pulled the sword from her frozen fingers, her Haki presence shuddering with shock and desperation. That weapon was her lifeline. Her last line of defense. Her only means of protection against the monster hidden under their noses. And Marco took it from her.

He’s had nothing but time to think. To remember. There’s one memory in particular that keeps coming back to him, a memory that was sweet but innocuous, just a little moment from years ago. He didn’t think much about it at the time. He wonders what else he missed.

It’s a quiet night on the Moby. A few of the divisions are still away on missions and the rest are enjoying the quiet stretch of sea. Marco isn’t technically on duty tonight, but it’s a perfect opportunity to catch up on the backlog of reports; the Moby will dock at the next port for a full week, and he wants to be off duty for as much of that time as he can possibly get away with.

The reason for that is curled up in a position that cannot be comfortable on her spine, huddled over in the chair in the corner of his office and bent over the notebook she brings everywhere. Every few minutes, Marco glances over at his little sister and feels a surge of, “How the hell is she this cute?” because it’s beyond adorable to see the seven-year-old working so diligently. He’d only just settled in to his office to start his paperwork when she’d peeked inside and asked if she could come work with him, as if that was a question Marco will ever say no to.

Marco’s inner phoenix preens at the attention, because there are a thousand other pirates on the ship that would fall over themselves to keep the little girl entertained, but Lexa wants to spend time with him. Boring paperwork and all.

He expects her to get bored after a while and start poking at him to quit his paperwork and come play with her instead, but by the time Marco finishes filling out his last report, she’s still quietly scribbling away in the corner.

“What are you writing, yoi?” Marco asks curiously.

Lexa ignores him. The little girl’s face is twisted in concentration with her head bent close to the paper as her pen flies over the page of her journal. It’s not often he sees her so focused on something besides her swordfighting; instead of asking again, Marco pushes his reading glasses up and leans forward on his desk to watch her.

She’s so cute. It’s a good thing they’re already pirates and outlaws, because it has to be illegal to be that adorable. Her little nose is scrunched up, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips, and every so often her entire mouth pulls over to the side. Whatever she’s working on, it must be tricky.

Marco can’t resist the curiosity tugging at him, so he transforms just his eyes to their zoan counterpart, sharpening his vision until he can clearly make out the symbols on the page. She’s not writing in words, she’s scribbling loops and arcs and little dots all over the pages.

Haruta and Izou think it’s a code. Thatch insists it’s just awful penmanship; Marco knows the chef is just trying to get under their brothers’ skin, he spent a lot of time helping Marco teach her how to write. Lexa’s handwriting won’t be winning any awards (she writes too fast for that, even though he’s told her a thousand times that it would be much neater if she took her time and slowed down) but it’s always legible. The rest of the commanders just wonder where she learned it.

Marco thinks it’s pretty obvious she made it up; she’s always been curious about words. He remembers those little eyes fixating on every piece of paper that passed in front of them even when she was a tiny baby, how she’d been drawing funny shapes since they day Rakuyo first gave her a bit of colored wax to play with, how she’d drawn those shapes on every available surface until Blamenco finally convinced her to use paper so his division didn’t have to keep erasing her artwork.

Marco watches for a while, following the rapid scribbling of her pen as she loops and curves and dots and fills one page, then another, then flips to the next page and keeps going. At one point she pauses, flipping back a dozen pages and scanning over the block of scribbles filling it.

She frowns and her Haki presence suddenly shudders with concern.

“Everything okay?” Marco asks loudly. Lexa startles, her eyes flying open as her cheeks flush. The reaction is so adorable that he has to turn away to hide his laughter so he doesn’t embarrass her.

“Mhm,” Lexa nods. Marco gets up and crosses his office, coming to stand next to the chair she’s sitting in. He runs a hand down her head, patting her soft hair.

“You want to go see if there’s anything happening on deck, yoi?” he asks casually. Lexa hesitates and looks down at her notebook.

“Don’t you have work to do?” she asks.

“I finished it all,” Marco answers with a smile, “We can do anything you want.”

“Oh. Uh…” the little girl says in that adorable way of a kid trying to remember the manners they’ve been trying very hard to teach her, “I don’t wanna.”

Marco snorts and tries his best to disguise the sound so she doesn’t know that he’s laughing at her bluntness.

“You don’t, yoi?”

“Noooo,” she says plainly.

“Do you want to stay in here and keep working?” Marco offers gently. Lexa nods. The sight is too cute not to grin at. Marco bends down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Okay, we can do that. Mind if I come sit with you?”

“There’s no room!” Lexa giggles, clutching her notebook tight to her chest. Marco straightens and pretends to frown.

“Oh no, I didn’t notice that. Hmm, I wonder if there’s anything we can do about that,” Marco says dramatically, tapping his chin with his finger, “Wait a second, yoi, I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Lexa blinks up at him with wide eyes, but Marco can see the grin starting to appear on her face and he knows that she knows exactly what he’s planning.

“What if I do… this?”

He punctuates the thought by turning into a bird, transforming into a full phoenix and landing on her legs with his wings spread for balance. Marco has some control over his size, and right now, he’s about the of a housecat. There’s plenty of room for him to fold his legs under his feathers and settle down over her lap. He bumps his head against her hand, beak nudging gently against her fingers, and he can feel her smile by the way she pets through his feathers and down the back of his neck. Her fingers dance through the fiery plumes along his spine, stroking through the gentle flames with something close to awe.

“You’re so cute,” the adorable little girl says adorably.

Marco blinks open an eye to look at her, his chest warm and his heart full to the brim.

“You’re the cute one,” he returns levelly, “I’m dignified, yoi.”

Lexa giggles again and the sound of her joy is his absolute favorite sound in the universe.

“We can both be cute,” she announces. Before he can say anything to that, she curls her fingers under his chin and starts scratching at the sensitive feathers in a motion that makes his brain fill with static. The phoenix’s eyes close and he tilts his head back, pure instinct driving him as he bares his neck to give her more room to reach. A rumbling sound starts in his chest that comes out of his beak as a happy trill and he goes boneless over her lap.

Lexa keeps petting him and the tiny corner of Marco’s brain that hasn’t been taken over by the phoenix (who is in seventh heaven and as limp as a wet noodle in the little girl’s hands) can only laugh at himself. He obviously adores his sister, but she really does have a gift when it comes to animals. It’s not just that way she can turn Marco’s phoenix mind into utter mush. Lexa knows every single snail on the ship by name and takes the time to talk to them and pet them and make sure they’re getting the kinds of lettuce they like. She has the notoriously petty and fickle News Coos eating out of her palm too. Any cat or dog she meets, it’s only a matter of time before they’re all over her. He’s not really sure where she learned it, they never had to teach her to be gentle with animals, to respect their space, or take extra care of the more dangerous ones; it’s like an instinct. And they love her for it, his inner phoenix very much included.

Eventually, Lexa goes back to her journal, writing one-handed while her other hand keeps petting the phoenix on her lap. Marco, as relaxed as he’s ever been, closes his eyes and takes the rare moment of undisturbed peace and quiet to doze off.

When he wakes up, she’s still writing. He peeks an eye open and looks up without raising his head from the comfortable position he’s in. Marco’s mind is still blurry and muddled with the way it always gets with the phoenix at the forefront for a while but Lexa looks different like this.

Not just bigger, because he’s currently a fraction of her size, but calmer. Lexa isn’t acting like a hyperactive seven-year-old, Marco’s internal clock tells him she’s been sitting in his office writing in her journal for the better part of three hours, no fidgeting, no complaining about being bored, no sudden trips to the bathroom. And her legs are perfectly still under him, his phoenix is still fully settled because the creature part of him can tell she’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

It stirs a half-forgotten memory in the back of his mind, feeling warm and safe and protected in someone’s arms.

The entire feeling is strange.

It’s not a bad thing, though. It’s just a side of her that he’s not used to seeing. Almost like he’s seeing the little girl grow up before his eyes. She won’t grow up any faster than she has to, though. He and his brothers will do whatever it takes to give her a long and happy childhood.

Lexa lets out a huff, blowing a puff of air out of her mouth. Her pencil taps against the page and she frowns.

“When did the walls go up?” she mutters under her breath. There’s real frustration in her voice and Marco headbutts her wrist gently.

“What’s wrong, yoi?”

Lexa’s hand falls still. She shakes her head once.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t remember,” she frowns.

“Maybe I can help you,” he offers, “What are you trying to remember?”

“No, you can’t… I mean… you weren’t there.”

Marco doesn’t miss the lie—not by a long shot—but if his sister doesn’t want his help, he’s not going to press. Especially not only something she’s been working so hard on. Whatever it is.

“You’ve been working on that for a while,” Marco prompts gently, “Maybe it’s time to take a break for the night.”

“…I don’t want to forget where I was,” she hesitates.

“What does it say?” Marco asks again, nudging her with his beak. Lexa’s hand rubs through the flaming feathers absentmindedly.

“That one?” her voice is unusually quiet. She points at the scribble his beak is aimed at. Marco was curious about the whole thing, not a specific word, but he wasn’t sure she’d answer at all. So he nods his head. Lexa shivers. “It says freeze.”

It’s his third pass between the stretch of ocean directly between Banaro and Sabaody, and he flies along a slightly different heading each time. The route would take days by sea; Marco can manage it in a few hours at top speed. Marco is just waiting for the snail call from Whitey, confirming that she and the Second Division have made it to the Fleet’s meeting point. When his snail starts vibrating inside whatever liminal space it goes to when he transforms, he assumes it’s Whitey. Maybe Haruta.

But when he transforms partway back to human, the snail in his pocket immediately starts to cry quietly.

“What is it, yoi?!” Marco demands, unable to transform his wings back into arms to answer the call the normal way. His snail knows him well enough that the question should be enough for him to connect the call automatically, but instead, the creature just keeps crying.

It’s a distress call. But it’s not a person calling; that would’ve gone through by now.

That means it’s a snail.

Marco doesn’t hesitate.

“Which way?!” he practically shouts at the poor snail, spinning in midair to find the direction that makes the snail cry harder. He flies as fast as he can, trusting his theatrically-sobbing snail to warn him if he starts to veer off course. Marco is nothing more than a streak of blue fire in the sky, wind rippling through his feathers as he tears through the air, and it’s not long before he’s close enough for his phoenix eyes to see the first traces of land in the distance.

His Observation is stretched out as far as he can manage and it’s only a few seconds after that he catches the first wave of emotion.

Rage.

Whatever’s in the distance is a ball of fury so massive that it feels like it’s coming from a crowd of people. Marco speeds up, pushing himself to go faster. That’s when the fear hits. His head is ringing with the crying of his snail that gets louder and louder as the coastline draws near, and his Haki is echoing with an enormous mass writhing emotion.

Marco blazes through the sky, heading straight for the beach and that’s when he sees a little ship in the distance. Its sails are white and it’s completely overshadowed by the massive pillar beside it.

The sight makes his heart stop.

There’s a roar that shakes the entire island and Marco comes beak-to-muzzle with the angriest sea king he’s ever seen in his life. Most of its body is frozen solid and trapped within the pillar of ice, but parts of its enormous bulk are free. The sea king thrashes, bucking its head wildly to try and dislodge a massive chunk of ice freezing its long ear to the side of its head, beady black eyes fixing on the phoenix in utter fury, and a half-thawed tail slams down against the surface of the water.

“Shit!” Marco swears, yanking his wings in and banking to the left as hard as he can to avoid the wall of saltwater that will soak him to the core and drag him straight down to the bottom of the ocean. The creature roars again.

Marco can feel the monster’s anguish all the way through the phoenix’s hollow bones and he isn’t sure if the surge of nausea is from the creature or himself.

Lexa’s sea king—the biggest Homing Mule he’s ever seen in his life—is half frozen into a massive column of ice on the beach, raging with anger and clearly injured. Her ship is here, barrels of essential supplies left unsecured on the deck, white flags and sails still furled. And there’s a dying snail on the ship blaring out a distress call that gets louder every time Marco turns in its direction.

There’s no sign of Lexa.

There wouldn’t be.

He knows exactly who has her.

And if those bastards touch a single hair on her head…

The sea king roars again, ice-studded tail nearly whipping Marco out of the air, and he has to throw himself into a spiraling freefall to get clear of those deadly teeth. Not that the creature could hurt him, but the poor thing is clearly injured and terrified and blind with rage, and he refuses to lay so much as a talon on it.

Marco sees the sea king rear back and recoil as the section of its body still frozen solid tears against the motion, and he makes a split-second decision. He can’t let it hurt itself.

So he turns back into a human and drops to the beach, hands up to shout, “STOP!!!!” as he lands easily on the sand.

“I’m a friend!” he calls up at the furious animal, “You’re going to hurt yourself, you have to stop!”

He lights his hands on fire and holds them up. The sea king snarls and bares its teeth but Marco just holds still and waits. When Marco makes no move to attack, he sees the creature’s eyes drop down from his face and hands. Onto his tattoo.

The Sea King goes still and there’s a burst of something new in its Haki; Marco can’t tell the nuance of its emotions yet, but the new feeling isn’t anger or fear so he seizes the opportunity. It clearly recognizes the symbol.

Marco pulls open his shirt to fully expose Pops’ mark and make sure the creature can see it clearly.

“Yes, you see that mark? It means I’m a friend. I love her too, okay? And I know she would be heartbroken if I let anything to you, so I promise, I’m here to help. I can help you.”

It’s agonizing work. He has to work in segments, carefully freeing entire sections of the creature’s body from the ice it’s encased in with precise applications of his fire, and only when he’s removed it from ice entirely can he even begin to thaw the frozen scales and skin and furry bulk. And he can only start healing the damage from being frozen alive and improperly melted once the entire beast is thawed out.

He works tirelessly, pausing just long to douse the dying snail in healing flames and set up a dish of water for it, and bit by bit the sea king stops snarling at him like he’s the one who attacked their ship in the first place. Once he’s confident that the Homing Mule’s injuries have been treated well enough that they won’t kill him if he decides to stop trusting the strange human with fire powers and make a break for the ocean, Marco pulls out his own snail.

He has to tell Pops.

He…

He has to tell Pops.

Your supplies are running out. It should only be two days to Sabaody and you have just enough water to make it until then, but if there’s bad weather, even a small delay will leave you high and dry. Literally.

You can’t risk it.

Earl, with his incredible ability to find the places you’re trying to go, takes you to an island with a small marketplace. You have just enough Berry left from Martha to afford to restock on water without having to sell your snail. You’re willing to do it if you have to but the idea of losing your only method of communication is terrifying. The only other thing of value you have is your bracelet, and the only way in hell you’re selling it is if that’s your only alternative to certain death.

Rolling the barrels of water across the island in your current condition is exhausting. If not for your Observation Haki, which blares out warnings every time you’re about to roll over a rock or hit something that might smash the barrel, you’d have broken them a dozen times over.

Earl helps you raise the barrels off the beach, but it’s all on you to get them properly loaded and stored away on the ship. Which is a bitch and a half with one wrist still very much broken. It’s exhausting and the weather is as beautiful as you’ve ever seen it so you could’ve already made it to Sabaody by now, but you just know that if you tried going straight there, you would’ve gotten swept up in a storm.

This way, you’ll make it to Sabaody without a problem. Not that your Observation Haki knows that with the way it’s been screaming at you for the last hour. But you’re finally done and all that’s left to do is untie the anchoring ropes from the big rocks on the beach and you’ll be back on your way to finding Rayleigh.

“Ahl… ex…zan…dree…uh,” a voice drawls so slowly that your given name gets mangled in his mouth.

At first, you’re just surprised you didn’t hear him approach you.

Then you realize that there’s an actual reason why your Observation Haki has been going berserk and before you even turn around, you know you’re fucked.

“You’re… a hard lady… to find.”

Your stomach flips over on itself and your heartbeat ratchets up to a thousand and you turn around to face the Admiral.

“Kiz—” you start to say, but your throat chokes around the sound. It’s not Admiral Kizaru.

It’s worse.

It’s Admiral Kizaru.

And Admiral Aokiji.

You’re not an idiot. You know your Haki isn’t anywhere near strong enough to face one Admiral. But two? You might as well turn around and put your hands on your head.

You take a step back in utter horror. For once in your life, your brain stops working completely. There are no thoughts in your head, no ideas for how to get out of this, no backup plans or secret weapons or anything else. You’re just fucked.

“You can run if you like,” Aokiji says, lazily holding something up between two fingers, “But we’ll just follow you.”

Your heart stops.

It’s a little piece of paper.

“No,” you say in a tiny voice that’s an octave higher than normal, shaking your head in disbelief because that’s quite literally all you can do. It’s not a big piece, small enough that you didn’t even notice it was missing when Teach gave you back the pieces of your vivre card. But it’s more than big enough for them to use to track you. Ace wasn’t the only thing that traitor gave them. You take another step back. “No!”

“’fraid so,” Aokiji blows out a sharp burst of icy air.

“I’m not a pirate!” you shout, backing up desperately because even though your brain knows it’s hopeless your survival instincts have not gotten that message, “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

You may have been raised on a notorious pirate ship, but you were never part of the crew. Even after all these years, you still don’t really understand how this fucked up world works, how the Marines decide who deserves protection, who the laws don’t apply to, and who needs to be stamped out in the name of Justice.

But Edward Alexandria is not a criminal.

(And yes, you bribed an official at the Red Line, sailed with a known pirate crew, and contacted members of the Revolutionary Army. But that was you, in disguise, and the Marines never even noticed you existed. They’re not here for you, they’re here for the Emperor’s Daughter at the end of the Vivre Card).

“That’s true,” Aokiji nods. He sticks his hands in his vest pockets and takes a lazy step towards you that sends your stomach into a free-fall. “So if you come without a fuss, we’ll take good care of you. We have a nice room waiting for you in Marineford, you’ll be safe and sound until all this is over.”

You bristle; by “all this,” he means the execution of your brother for something as stupid as his birth father and all-out war against your dad.

“And if I don’t?!” you demand, wishing you brave enough to spit in his face. You aren’t though. You have to survive this; your family is still in danger and you can’t give up. Not now. Not ever.

“Well… we won’t hurt you,” Kizaru finally drawls. There’s a stupid, genuinely caring smile on his face that disguises how horrifically dangerous he is and you wonder how many marines have a soft spot for little girls like you and Bonney. You also wonder why that soft spot is so utterly useless against abduction orders. “But you’ll be coming back to Marineford… either way.”

“What’ll it be?” Aokiji asks. Neither of them have bothered to brace for a fight, they’re both just watching you like you’re all having a casual discussion. You are not a threat to them. There’s nothing you are capable of that could possibly be a threat to them.

You hesitate.

You believe they’re telling the truth. You are not going to make it to Sabaody. One way or another, you will be brought to Marineford by the end of the day. And they won’t hurt you, you’re just a defenseless little girl. Which means you have an exceptionally rare chance to test yourself. You’re tempted to see if you’re strong enough to enough to draw blood.

But on the other hand, you need every advantage you can get. Being underestimated is frustrating but it can also help you. It’s pretty clear that things are hurtling towards the War at Marineford at a breakneck pace and showing them that you’re more than a bit of leverage will just make it harder for you to act when it matters.

In the end, the choice gets made for you when Earl finally realizes you’re in danger and attacks.

“Earl, stop!!!!!” you shout, trying to wave him off but it’s too late. Aokiji raises his hand and says, “Ice Ace.”

Your friend, all eight hundred pounds of deadly sea king, freezes solid. His face is still contorted in anger, stuck in the middle of his lunge with all his teeth bared.

“EARL!” you scream, running down the beach to get to him. He’s not dead, right?! He can’t be! He’s your friend, he can’t be!!!!

Something grabs your shoulder, disturbingly gentle for how unbreakable the grip is and you nearly dislocate your knee and arm at the same time from being forced to such an abrupt stop.

“It’s time to go,” Kizaru says softly. You jerk backwards, trying to break free. You whirl around to face Aokiji as best as you can with your arm still caught in a death grip.

“UNFREEZE HIM! THAT’S MY FRIEND, YOU HAVE TO UNFREEZE HIM!”

Aokiji looks up at Earl lazily and shrugs.

“He’ll thaw.”

You stare at him in horror.

“Please! Please, he didn’t do anything wrong!!! He was just trying to protect me!!!!”

Aokiji keeps looking at your frozen friend for another few seconds before walking over to where Kizaru has you pinned. The ice logia gets close enough to put a hand on your other shoulder and your heart stops completely. He leans in and you shrink back in terror, your instincts screaming at you to run to hide to get away get away getawaygetawaygetaway—

“He attacked a bigger monster,” Aokiji says, like he’s telling you a secret about the universe that he thinks you should know by now, “There’s got to be a price for that.”

Kizaru hums.

“We’re going now,” Admiral Kizaru orders. You can’t do anything but stumble as he pulls you along, tears dripping numbly down your cheeks as they lead you to certain doom.

Chapter Text

“Take this,” Whitey Bay holds out something that looks a bit like an unlit candle and Robin’s captain accepts it.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s a beacon. One of our brothers made it, it’s tuned to Lils. If it’s planted on any ground she’s stepped on, it’ll light up. We’ve been using them to track the islands she’s been to, but they don’t work right on Sabaody.”

“I imagine that’s because the archipelago is made of distinct mangrove trees,” Robin muses. Whitey Bay nods.

“Exactly. All it can tell me right now is that she hasn’t been to grove thirteen. But you can use that to check all of the groves individually,” the Allied Captain explains.

“So it’s a mystery candle,” Luffy says as he slams his fist into his open hand. Whitey Bay and Deuce just stare at him.

“Sure, kid,” Whitey Bay finally answers. Nami reaches out to take the beacon.

“I’ve got it.”

“If she’s here, we’re gonna find her!” Luffy proclaims with every bit as much conviction as he’d had in that moment where he’d stared down Enies Lobby and the threat it represented and screamed at the top of his lungs that he didn’t care about anything but his friends.

“Thank you,” Deuce says, “I mean it, Luffy. Thank you.”

“So what’s the plan, cap?” Franky asks. It’s not his usual brashness, he’s clearly picked up on the fact that their plans have gone astray.

“We’re splitting up,” Luffy tells his crew, half gathered around him in the Ripoff Bar, and the rest listening in over the mini transponder snail.

Robin listens as her captain tells the crew the plan, noting with curiosity that the rubber man never calls her by her real name. It’s a bit strange: she’s noticed a strange pattern in Luffy’s ability to recall names and faces and she finds it a bit odd that he still chooses the false name she’d been traveling under.

They’ll split up into groups of three. Camie, Hatchan and Pappagu will comb the waters around the archipelago. Luffy, Robin and Nami will follow their Navigator’s best instincts and attempt to follow a path through the lawless areas. As the crew members least likely to be recognized from their wanted posters, Chopper and Brook will meet up with Sanji to search the areas with heavier Marine presences, meanwhile Usopp, Franky and Zoro will search the coasts. Perhaps it was a bit generous to credit the captain for the plan, but he agreed to it.

Searching the lawless areas turns out to bear a striking resemblance to an open brawl. Robin can hardly keep track of the number of scoundrels who attempt to take her captain’s head and meet the business end of a rubber fist. She does her part, crossing her arms over her chest and summoning flower limbs as she politely requests information.

“Go to hell, Demon bitch!”

“Hmm,” Robin hums, unimpressed as she swiftly sends the man to a deep, dark rest, “I’m afraid these men aren’t being very cooperative.”

“We’ll just have to hit them harder!” Luffy shouts, pointing a finger at one of the bandits who’s trying to sneak away, “HEY YOU!”

Robin is curious to see the new interrogation technique in action, but it quickly becomes apparent that these scum have nothing to share. She’s much more interested in Nami’s investigation of the beacon from Whitey Bay, which stays unlit no matter how many new groves the navigator plants it in.

“We better search the amusement park!” Luffy proclaims after hours of fruitless wandering and a trail of unconscious kidnappers, bandits, bounty hunters, and poorly-disguised Marines left in his wake. “Maybe she’s on the Ferris wheel!”

“Why would she go on the Ferris Wheel? You know she hates heights!”

“Right!” Luffy agrees, punching his fist into his hand again, “Then we better get her off it fast!”

He takes off in the direction of the Ferris Wheel that looms high over the trees, and Nami chases after him with a deafening, “GET BACK HERE, IDIOT!!!!”

Robin trails after them, and she has time to check in with Franky—still nothing on their end, and he doesn’t have any updates from the other groups—and to observe.

She picks up on the shift in mood just around the time when she sees Luffy and Nami in the carriage at the very top of the Ferris Wheel. Luffy is looking around as though Alexandria might be waiting for him at the top, while she can practically hear Nami’s shouts as she tries to yank the captain’s head back inside the ride vehicle.

Keeping an eye on her crewmates while they enjoy the ride, Robin wanders the fairgrounds. She roves the seediest areas, keeping her ears peeled for anything useful. There’s apparently quite a bit of trafficking that occurs in this grove—how distasteful—but the murmurs have shifted from finding a big quarry to finding product of quality in time.

She relays this information to her captain as soon as they get off the ride, and once Nami reminds him that they’re talking about people and not rocks, the fervor returns in full force. The next bastard to try for Straw Hat’s bounty gets an unpleasant greeting.

“WHAT ARE YOU IN A HURRY FOR?!” Luffy demands eloquently. Robin couldn’t have phrased it better herself.

“The… the auction house! They just announced a secret lot, the opening bid is going to be two hundred million berries!”

Robin hums.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I believe that’s the size of Alexandria’s bounty. The one from the Marines, in any case.”

Nami gasps.

“They’re going to auction her?!” she erupts in seething anger.

Luffy slams the would-be bandit into a tree and demands, “WHAT AUCTION HOUSE?!”

“The…the… the one on Grove Number One!”

Law never in his life would have imagined he’d be so relieved to be sitting in a slave auction house. But he’s finally washed his hands of all the New World nonsense he’d found himself neck-deep in, and not only is he at the halfway point of the Grand Line, but he’s got another serious favor from an Emperor under his belt.

His crew has had a chance to let loose and relax after the stressful days of playing nice with the Whitebeards on the Polar Tang, and he finally has a chance to do some quiet recon on Doflamingo’s enterprises. This auction house is run by a jackass named Disco who works directly for Joker. It’ll be useful to see how he does business on the barely-legal side of things.

He’s heard about the surprise lot, and with bidding starting at two hundred million berries, he can admit he’s curious to find out what it is. And of course there’s the matter of the three Celestial Dragons sitting in the front row.

This will be interesting.

…is what he thinks before he hears a gasp and looks around to see a woman with short red hair pointing straight at him with a look of shock, standing right next to a very familiar-looking pirate in a vest and a highly distinct straw hat.

“Luffy!” the woman exclaims with wide eyes, “That’s the pirate that kidnapped her! Trafalgar Law!”

Straw Hat Luffy’s reaction is immediate as he charges towards Law without any care for the fact that they’re in the middle of a crowded auction house.

“YOU! WHAT DID YOU DO TO—"

Law feels a vein tick in his forehead before the other Supernova has even finished speaking.

“Not you too!” he practically growls, and he can feel his crew bristling behind him as the audience jumps and mutters, trying to figure out why some upstart is invading their esteemed event, “I told those other bastards, I didn’t—”

His brain shudders to a halt as he catches up to the end of Straw Hat’s question.

“What did you say?”

“I said, WHAT DID YOU DO TO—”

And he yells it again. That name. Not Alexandria, not any of the disgustingly cute nicknames that the Whitebeards use interchangeably, it’s nothing to do with the Emperor at all.

It’s the same name she gave him.

The name he’d assumed was just a throwaway lie, that she’d come up with it on the spot. The Allied Captains certainly hadn’t recognized it.

But Straw Hat doesn’t just know the name, he’s screaming it at Law like it’s something important. The only way he could know that name is if she told it to him too.

“Look, I helped her, okay? She needed a ride so I gave her one, that’s it.”

Law’s not really sure why he’s telling him that, the other rookie is just going to ignore him and blame him like the Whitebeards did, but there’s something about the fact that Straw Hat knows the girl by that name that makes it feel different.

To his shock, the auction house grows quieter.

“Oh.”

For a second, that’s all Straw Hat says.

And then his face lights up and he beams at Law and shouts far too loudly, “Hey, thanks! You’re a good guy, Traffy! We’re gonna get her out of here and leave this stupid tree, you should come with us!”

Law ignores every word except the one that he pinpoints on.

“Why are you looking for her here?” he demands, trying to figure out if there’s anything but rubber inside that skull.

“Because she’s the mystery lot!”

Law blinks hard.

“No she isn’t,” he tells them because he couldn’t resist a scan of the whole building and her signature is one he’d recognize anywhere after all the trouble it put him through.

“Captain—” Bepo tries to interrupt, but Law ignores him.

“But then—” the orange-haired woman says and Law’s eyes land on the beacon in her hand.

“Try it. See for yourself,” he says.

To Law’s complete lack of surprise, they beacon stays dark when she places it on the ground.

“She’s not here,” Law tells them with finality.

“You guys?” the little racoon dog (who can apparently speak) asks quietly, tugging on the back of the blond man’s suit jacket, “Where’s Camie?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, and Saints esteemed beyond measure, have I got a special treat for you! For one singular price, you could walk away with not one, not two, but THREE sea dwellers! That’s right, we have a special catch today! I present to you, a talking starfish, an octopus fishman, and the jewel of the sea, a real live mermaid! And they can all be yours to take home, the bidding begins at two hundred million berries!”

“CALL THE NAVY!!!”

“STRAW HAT LUFFY PUNCHED A CELESTIAL DRAGON!”

So.

You’re not going to sugar coat it.

Things are bad.

But, you remind yourself for the millionth time, things could be worse.

You’re in a much nicer cell than you expected. When Aokiji said they had a nice room for you, he was at least telling the truth about that. There might be bars crisscrossed over the single window on the far wall, but at least there is a window. And the paint on the walls is a lot nicer than slabs of concrete or sea stone even if the color is long-since faded. You’re not chained to anything and the temperature is only a little on the chilly side and there’s a real bed in the corner and the Marine assigned to stay in the cell to keep an eye on you is far from the worst option.

“That looks painful,” Koby tries again, his hand still reaching into the first aid kit, “Are you sure you don’t want any painkillers?”

“It’s fine,” you bite out. Your arms are hugged tight to your body in a way that doesn’t put any pressure on the bandages wrapped tightly around your broken wrist. The nurse that examined it confirmed that it’s definitely broken, plus that there’s a nice hairline crack along part of your ulna that might lead to a full fracture if you strain it.

It feels bad.

Marco could fix it in sixty seconds flat.

Koby hesitates because he clearly doesn’t believe you but he also clearly feels conflicted about forcing you to take any kind of medication you don’t want. Poor Koby and his internal crisis, that must be so awful for him to have to be conflicted.

Okay, enough sarcasm, that’s not helping.

Especially not when you’re in the middle of a plan.

You wince, a small gasp escaping your mouth as your arms wrap even tighter around your chest.

“What’s wrong?” Koby asks. His eyes are as wide as manhole covers and his expression is pure worry that would put any of your brothers to shame and even with your Haki pulled in as tightly as you possibly can to disguise the full extent of your strength, you’re battered with the fact that he’s genuinely worried about you being in pain.

He tries to move closer and you flinch back, turning away and hunching over to make yourself even smaller. Koby freezes, his outstretched hands suspended in midair.

“I’m sorry! I should’ve asked, I won’t… look, I’m staying right here. Okay?”

Slowly, you swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

Koby lowers his hands just as slowly.

“Are you bleeding?”

You stare at him, frozen like a deer in the headlights, before your fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and press lightly against dry skin. Koby can’t see any of that beneath the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but he can see the way your spine stiffens at the sudden burst of pain before you nod.

Koby’s face twists even further with worry before he glances down at the med kit.

“Will you let me call the nurses?”

“Only if you mean my sisters,” you hiss under your breath, trying to disguise the raw emotion as physical discomfort.

“I… I’m sorry, I… what if I take a look at it?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Koby’s face is still twisted in dismay and you wince again, doubling over as you pretend the imaginary wound is causing you a new wave of pain.

“What if you treat it yourself?!” he bursts out in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation.

“You mean it?”

“Of course! If… if that would make you feel better, then of course you can,” he says so earnestly that the split-second is enough to fill you with utter rage because in that moment, he reminded you so much of your younger brother. Who you’re never, ever going to see again if you fucking die here at Marineford.

“Okay.”

You don’t feel bad about this next bit.

Slowly, you start to pull them hem of your shirt up to remove it and you freeze when the two of you lock eyes.

“You’re going to watch?!” you squeak, your voice somewhere between a whisper and a hiss as you relax your grip on your Haki for just long enough that your fear and embarrassment hit him dead-on. He hasn’t Awakened his Haki yet, but he’s on the cusp of it and he’s already so attuned to emotions that he’ll feel it even if he doesn’t realize it.

Koby splutters as his face blushes bright red.

“No! No, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I didn’t realize!” Koby stammers, his face almost as red as Vivi’s was during Girl’s Night on the Going Merry. You miss her and the rest of the Straw Hats so fucking badly, you would give literally everything in the universe to be back there with your friends instead of trapped here awaiting your family’s doom that you lead them straight into. “I’m so sorry! I’ll turn around, just let me know when you’re done!”

True to his word, he turns around.

You wait for a beat but he’s staring at the wall with all his might while he hums forcefully to give you as much privacy as he can. Your chest twinges.

Cautiously, you take a step towards the med kit. Koby doesn’t move. You take another, and then another and another and soon your fingers wrap around the handle. The bed against the far wall will be the best place to bandage your chest.

You pick up the kit and the sturdy box is a little heavier than you were expecting. It must be stuffed to the brim with medical supplies; it’ll do for now.

Koby doesn’t react at all, and now his hands are over his ears as he tries to give you as much privacy as he possibly can. You wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes are closed. Guilt pricks at your stomach because he doesn’t deserve this at all. But he’s in your way.

With a deep breath, you pull the arm holding the med kit back and explode into motion. At the last second before you cross the distance and swing, Koby stiffens. But it’s too late.

The med kit cracks across the back of his skull with all your physical strength and not a single ounce of your Haki. It’s still enough force to make Koby buckle before he goes crashing to the ground with an awkward, “gluck!” sound.

You drop the medkit and sprint to the window, your uninjured arm darkening with Armament Haki. That was loud and this is about to be even louder so there’s no time to waste. The seastone bars that crisscross over the window are unbreakable, and you’d bet your ruby charm bracelet that the glass is some kind of crazy Vegapunk-brand Gorilla Glass or something like that. But you’re not aiming for the window.

Your fist slams into the wall to the side of the window, just far enough over that you’re hitting the least-reinforced part of the wall beside the frame. It’s a gamble that the Marines cut corners on their low-security cells (and you can recognize that this room is too nice to have been originally intended to hold prisoners) but it’s a gamble that pays off because your Haki slams through sheetrock and plaster and stone and punches a basketball-sized hole into the wall. Cool air from outside blasts into the too-warm room.

Without wasting a second, you launch yourself into the air and punch higher, the next spot hitting just past the upper right corner of the window. You keep going, punching holes in the wall around the window frame as quickly as you can with your good hand. It’s working but it’s loud and the room shakes with every hit.

Your Observation spikes suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up, and you can almost hear the charging footsteps even as Koby lets out a low groan. You’re out of time!

Your fist is stinging as you step back; the wall is full of holes, none of them big enough for you to squeeze through and all of them the obvious result of your Armament Haki. You take a few more steps back and swallow through the churning fear in your stomach. It’s going to have to be enough.

With a deep breath, you coat your entire front in Armament and charge forward at full speed, turning slightly towards your good side to launch yourself like a battering ram into the center of the window. The shockwave that booms in your ears is deafening but you can feel the crunch as the full force of your Haki combines with the damage you caused and the entire window is wrenched out of the wall, frame and all, the undamaged glass still covered by those unbreakable seastone bars.

The impact rattles your head but you can still feel the drop in your stomach as the entire window falls out the side of Marineford and you fall with it.

You close your eyes and reach for your Armament to brace for impact when you hit the ground.

For once terrifying second, you’re in free-fall.

Something snaps around your upper arm, jerking you to a stop as you’re caught in midair.

Cold horror floods your lungs as you look up at Sengoku’s impassive face. Without wasting any time, he hauls you back through the hole and into the cell. He doesn’t let go of you and you’re not stupid enough to try to get away.

Behind you, there’s a gasp.

“Koby!” Helmeppo panics as he runs over to his friend. Koby groans, accepting the help to sit up straight. There’s another presence in the doorway, one that looms large and terrifying without even taking a single step. Garp says nothing.

You swallow.

“I had to try,” you say quietly.

“How did you break the window?” Sengoku demands harshly. He throws his hand out to the side to gesture at the massive hole in the wall where an indestructible window was mere minutes before. When you don’t answer, he shakes you once by his grip on your arm and it’s just a warning but it makes you hate him just a little bit more than you already do.

“Senny!” Garp snarls from the doorway. The fury in his voice sends an icy spike through your core. Sengoku’s eyes harden and his jaw tenses. But the crushing grip around your arm disappears and the Fleet Admiral takes a step away from you.

You glare up at him. You don’t dare look back at Garp to try and figure out why he stopped him.

“If you haven’t figured out what my fruit does, why would I tell you?” you hiss, letting as much of your hatred shine through to cover the fact that you’re bluffing out of your ass. Sengoku’s eyes widen.

“Get me a pair of seastone cuffs,” he orders, and the ensign behind Helmeppo gulps as he nods and practically runs out of the room. He comes back all too soon and you don’t know if it’s because he sprinted as fast as he could or if it’s because you blacked out the minutes in between. All you know is that your instincts have you flinching back as far as you can in Sengoku’s grip as the Marine with the handcuffs approaches.

“I’ll do it.” Koby interrupts, moving forward with only a slight wobble to his stride. With an expression so icy it could freeze lava, Sengoku releases you and Koby is by far your best option here so you take the few remaining steps to where he’s standing in front of the bed.

The cuffs close around your wrist, colder than any metal, and your legs crumble as sea stone makes contact with your bare skin. Koby was expecting it; strong arms catch you and help you sit down on the bed where you struggle to sit up straight. Sengoku is watching you, and behind him, Garp is too. You can feel their eyes on you and there’s coldness and a little bit of pity but no suspicion.

Your escape failed.

The only possible advantage you can give yourself now is to make them think that sea stone has any effect on you at all. (It’s almost funny how easily they believe the fact that you ate a Devil Fruit)

“Does that hurt?” Koby asks kindly. It’s much more care than you deserve after you brained him not five minutes ago. The truth is that it doesn’t feel great, but you’re not showing any more weakness in front of these Navy bastards.

“Get up,” Sengoku orders.

The door opens and this is the kind of cell you were expecting. Thick walls, no windows, freezing cold, paper thin blanket on top of a metal cot, chains attached to bolts protruding from the walls. Your shiver has nothing to do with the cold this time. But you swallow, take a deep breath, and walk inside before anyone has to tell you to.

(You had to try.)

Your plan to stay strong and keep a brave face for these fuckers shatters into a million pieces as the Marines file into the cell, and you are injured and chained and alone and so fucking weak and as you stare between the faces of the Marines and that stupid fucking word you hate so much, it hits you that these are supposed to be the good guys.

“I don’t understand,” your voice breaks and there’s no part of the raw emotion that’s fake. You did everything you could, spent your entire life planning how to fix things and save your family and it was all for nothing. Ace is going to be executed and your family is going to die and you tried your very hardest and you failed.

“You say you’re about justice! What does that word even mean to you? Do you even believe a single word of it?”

The Fleet Admiral stares at you coldly.

“The pirate king is dead!” you shout and you have no idea where this is all coming from but it’s all coming out, “Killing Ace won’t make him any more dead! It won’t make the government suddenly give a shit about the people too poor to pay their protection fee! It won’t make up for all the people who’ve been extorted and killed by the people who were supposed to protect—!”

“You’re dismissed.” Sengoku orders, cutting you off before you can finish the sentence. Which gives you a second to realize that you were about to do something very stupid if you screamed at him about Baterilla. Koby, Helmeppo, and the nameless Marine stooges all blink in confusion.

“But—”

“Now.”

The cell door slamming shut is the most ominous sound you’ve ever heard.

“You want the truth?”

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe.

“Roger was a damn fool,” Sengoku spits, enough vitriol to make your blood curdle. Garp says nothing. “He was a lawless pirate who brought chaos everywhere he went, uncaring of the damage he left in his wake. If he’d had the good sense to die at sea, that’s how he would’ve been remembered. King nothing, just a reckless idiot.”

You can’t breathe. It’s such a far cry from the bullshit he’d spat earlier about Devils and cursed blood and it’s even more sickening than you expected to hear him saying this now.

“Roger did more damage with his death than he ever managed alive,” Sengoku says coldly. “His legacy is the most dangerous thing about him. He may have been one man, but the memory of him? Every criminal act, every black flag raised, every man and woman that chooses selfish lawlessness, it’s all because of his voice in their ears.”

“The pirate executed at Loguetown was just a man. But Gold Roger, King of the Pirates? He’s the Devil. And the only way to kill the Devil once and for all is to eradicate his legacy.”

You’ve never felt so sick in your entire life. There’s nothing that helps, not with the cold seeping in alongside the horror and fear.

“And me?” you ask quietly.

“You? You’re here to protect the lives of every Marine on that battlefield.”

“What the hell does that mean? What’s going to happen to me?”

“That depends on what happens tomorrow.”

“So that’s it?” you hiss, your eyes burning with tears that you refuse to shed in front of this man, “You think I don’t know what that really means? What you’re planning to do? Where’s the justice in that?! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Don’t think for a second I do this lightly!” Sengoku snarls and the genuine emotion in his voice terrifies you; you flinch back on the cold metal bench, your stomach goes into free-fall and your heart pounds so hard you can feel it in your throat. “The Navy has a chance to end the Great Pirate Era, we will rid the world of pirates once and for all. People won’t have to live in fear of their homes being invaded, their property ransacked, or their lives threatened! You’re the offspring of the most dangerous pirate on the seas, there is no higher justice than for you to play a role in bringing about piracy’s end!”

“And what if you’re wrong? What if you do all this, end the Great Era, eliminate every single threat, and piracy still goes on?”

Sengoku stares at you coldly, his jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth together.

“This has to be done.”

Conversation ended, he turns to leave.

“Sengoku.”

You think he’s going to keep walking, but he stops.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” your voice is poisonous but it’s not strong enough to contain all the hatred you feel, “it’s all on your head. You chose this. And I will never forgive you for it.”

The Fleet Admiral’s jaw clenches and his hands tighten into fists. He leaves the cell without another word.

Garp can’t even look at you. He’s still sitting against the wall, cross-legged with his fists resting on his knees. His knuckles are white.

“Why are you still here?” you hiss. It’s not so much anger as it is the last of your willpower to hold it together long enough not to burst out crying in front of the Marines holding you captive.

He doesn’t answer. He’s quiet for long enough that you don’t think he’s going to.

“My grandson is a pirate,” Garp says out of the blue, “That brat’s always had a knack for trouble. I saw him recently. Water 7.”

You swallow and keep staring at your cuffed hands. Your wrist really is bruised to hell and back.

“Brat’s got a sister now. Couldn’t wait for her to join his crew,” Garp continues. There’s still nothing for you to say, nothing you don’t already know. Hopefully you haven’t fucked canon up enough to kill Luffy along with everyone else you’ve doomed.

“That brat thinks he can just spring it on me that I’ve got a new granddaughter.”

The declaration makes you lift your head as you stare at the old man in shock.

For a second, your eyes meet and the grief on his face is beyond anything you’ve ever seen a person make.

You shiver again. This cell is even colder than the last one.

“’m cold,” you mumble through chattering teeth, keeping your arms pulled in tightly so the cuffs don’t aggravate your broken wrist any more than they already do. Garp says nothing. He just stands up and leaves the cell without a word. Your eyes never move from the spot on the floor that he just left. By the time his footsteps return, you still haven’t moved.

The blanket he wraps around your shoulders is softer than all the sheets, even the ones in the last cell. It’s tricky to pull it around yourself tighter with your cuffed hands but when you finally get it positioned right, it’s warm enough to cut through the bone-deep chill.

The thin mattress flattens as he sits down next to you. You’re still surprised when the weight presses against your side and a much bigger arm wraps around your back, easily pulling you into him.

Only after he’s already wrapped you up in a side hug, his presence driving away the cold and his calloused palm gently squeezing your upper arm, does he hesitate.

In this moment, you’re not thinking about all the things he’s turned a blind eye to over the course of his career, the way he’s enforced the Navy’s orders, or even the fact that his own grandson being executed for having his father’s blood isn’t enough to get him to quit.

You’re thinking about how the worst thing in the entire universe right now is being alone.

He can’t do anything for Ace. The only thing he can do for you is stay. And he’s here. He’s not any of the people you wish were here, but he’s the person who is here.

Your family is going to die tomorrow.

You had fourteen years to save them and you failed.

You tried everything.

There’s nothing you can do now.

It’s not until the tears start falling that he reaches under you to pick you up before he lays you down across his lap and you just feel even tinier compared to how massive he is. Which is ridiculous because your dad is so gigantic that your entire body fits in the palm of his hand. But the cot is freezing and the metal is unforgiving and Garp pulls the blanket over you before he starts rubbing your arm again.

Soon, the chill of the cell is chased away completely. When you close your eyes, you can pretend that you’re safe and sound on your grandpa’s lap. That nothing bad is going to happen.

You’re still crying as you fall asleep.

It’s a steady rhythm. Pick up the weapon. Inspect it for visual defects. Unload the chamber. Check for dents or defective bullets. Test the trigger action. Reassemble. Pick up the next one.

Izou has done it thousands of times, but in the past few days it feels like he’s done it more times than in the rest of his life combined. There are over five thousand pirates in the Fleet, and just about every one of them is bringing a firearm into battle, even if it’s only as a last resort. Izou’s division and the other marksmen of the Fleet have spent the week ensuring every last firearm, canon, and every ranged weapon imaginable are combat ready, just like Vista and his division have been doing with the Fleet’s swords and knives.

Izou insisted on checking his division’s weapons himself, along with the commanders’ guns. Every moment that he hasn’t spent plotting strategy with Pops and the others, he’s spent in here. He won’t risk any of his brothers falling in battle because of a faulty trigger.

Like the pistol in his hand. One of Curiel’s. Izou has been trying to get his brother to let him fix it since the trigger got dented in the first place, but Curiel always insisted it gave the gun character to have to pull harder to fire it. Izou scoffs even as he slots the tool in place to straighten out the bent section. Character. If there’s any good to be found in all this, it’s that Izou won’t have to spend another day tormented by that tiny piece of dented metal.

He spends a long time on Curiel’s gun, too long, he knows he doesn’t have time right now but the makeshift armory on the floating base is quiet and he loses himself in having a task to complete.

But it can’t last forever.

His Observation Haki tells him which of his brothers has come to collect him long before he can actually hear their footsteps.

“Izou,” Curiel must have sensed that he was working on his weapon. Izou places it down on the bench and wipes his hands clean on the spare rag. Today’s kimono is so dark it’s nearly black, a necessity so that the stains from grease and soot and gunpowder won’t show. “We can’t be late.”

They both know what’s about to happen. Izou won’t be late for this, not when Pops needs all his commanders by his side more than ever.

“I just finished. Here, try it,” Izou’s fingers fly as he unloads the weapon and hands his brother his newly repaired pistol. Curiel looks down at it, holding it up to squint through one eye to see the new alignment. He tests the new trigger action with his usual hold and Izou watches smugly as his face shifts to immediate annoyance—not at the weapon, at Izou.

“Well?” Izou asks smugly, gathering his sleeves to tuck his hands into them in a serene fold. Curiel’s face twists.

“It’s better,” the Tenth Division Commander admits like it physically pains him.

“Hmmm,” Izou hums, before holding out the clip of bullets, “How fascinating.”

“Watch it,” Curiel snipes as he snatches the bullets back and reloads his gun without his sour expression budging from Izou’s face, “You’re on thin ice.”

Izou taps the floor under his feet and makes a dismissive sound.

“Feels quite solid to me.”

Curiel sighs and tucks the gun into its holster, before gesturing with curled fingers.

“Alright, get it all out then.”

In any other circumstance, Izou would be only too happy to keep harping on his idiot brothers for their poor firearm habits and improper maintenance, but the victory feels completely hollow. Curiel only agreed to the adjustment for the same reason Izou insisted on it, and neither of them need to say that part aloud. As much as he’d love feign normalcy and bicker with the other commander, he can’t do it.

It's been nearly eighteen years since Lord Oden led the Akazaya in his final battle against Kaido. A battle Izou wasn’t there to fight. Even now, he doesn’t know if he could have made a difference if he’d been there, the thing he does know is that his family have stood by him all that time. In his worst moments, the lowest points in his life, his father was there to pick him back up. His brothers always supported him until he could bear his own weight again.

And his little sister… he’s already lost Kiku. He won’t lose Alexandria.

He tears himself away from his thoughts to focus his attention on the enormous pier they’re walking down.

The base was once a floating arena, with all the docks and structures and kiosks necessary to sustain it; it was once a project of Gild Tesoro’s before the tycoon abandoned the idea of floating stadiums to in favor of his enormous floating casino. Now, it’s the Whitebeard Fleet’s home base as they prepare for war, less than an hour from Marine headquarters and completely unreachable by anyone but the crew. Soldiers from the Ryugu kingdom patrol the nearby waters along with the remaining Sun Pirates—Jimbei’s arrest was more than a little disturbing, it was the final straw in the fact that the Navy truly did mean war—to ensure that any enemy crews or Marines won’t be able to navigate the rough currents, and there are lookouts posted day and night to handle any aerial threats.

All the Allied Crews have arrived. Blamenco and the shipwrights have worked tirelessly to apply the coatings and ensure they aren’t damaged by the other preparations. The preparations are nearly complete.

Nearly.

Izou files into the room behind Curiel; they aren’t the first, but Namur, Atmos, Vista and Rakuyo trickle in over the next few minutes, so they aren’t late either. The Commanders have had quite a lot of meetings over the last few months, far more than they would under normal circumstances, but this gathering has an unusual heaviness to it. Pops is in the corner with Marco, the two of them sitting together quietly, not speaking.

He itches to pace the room but he’ll only stoke the flames of restless nerves so instead he settles against the wall, folding his legs under himself in a meditative pose, and tucks his hands into his sleeves so his fingers can drum against his forearm without anyone seeing. Unsurprisingly, Blamenco is the last to arrive: he’s been working around the clock to ensure that the coatings are done correctly, none of their plans will matter if they drown before they can ever reach Marineford.

Nearly twenty minutes have passed since Izou and Curiel arrived, twenty minutes of the commanders sitting and standing and waiting around in tense silence, and it’s almost a relief when Pops stands up.

Almost.

“It’s time.”

The stadium is full with five thousand pirates and it’s eerily silent as Izou rounds out the procession of Commanders from the antechamber onto the main stage. Everyone knows the stakes. They’re all just waiting for orders. Waiting to hear whatever was so important that Pops had them gather this close to the battle’s onset. With this many pirates in the crowd, it should be difficult to pick out any individual faces, but that’s all Izou can see. The faces of the men and women he loves as siblings who are here to fight for their family.

“My sons,” Pops begins heavily. Izou inhales through his nose, forcing himself to keep hold over his posture because the entire Fleet is looking to Whitebeard and his Commanders for strength and guidance and he won’t show anything less than complete faith in his captain.

His resolve is tested as the Emperor forges ahead.

“The Marines have Alexandria.”

The words send an ice-cold spike through Izou’s stomach. Fossa doesn’t flinch, but they’re standing so close to each other that Izou can feel his fist clench. Even the few days since Marco’s initial call, or his recounting of the entire story when he arrived, hasn’t softened the blow. It’s everything Izou feared from the moment he realized she was gone. No, not quite everything, she’s still alive. And she’ll stay that way, she has to stay that way, the idea of a world without that precious little imp is unfathomable.

“I have not received any word from them. No threats. No demands. Nothing. But I am well familiar with the Navy’s tactics. For all they speak of Justice, they are cowards with no sense of honor. There is no tactic they will not resort to in order to achieve their targets.”

Izou manages to catch a glimpse of Haruta’s face; his expression is dark and he’s rarely seen him so serious. Haruta has been tormenting himself with every possible thing the Marines could want with their sister. He’s done nothing but make plans since they’ve arrived on the base. Izou doesn’t blame him. It’s better than acknowledging the truth, that the Marines have all the leverage they could ever need.

Pops doesn’t shy away from it. He looks out over the stadium filled to the brim with his men, the outcasts he’s claimed as his own children, and tells them the blunt truth.

“I will not ask any of you to follow me into a trap. Anyone who comes to Marineford must do it with the full understanding of what we may be walking into.”

Pops pauses long enough for the words to sink in, and then he exhales and steels his shoulders. In that moment, he looks thirty years younger and every bit as powerful and determined as he did back in those days.

“But I am going.”

“I am too,” Marco announces immediately.

“And me.” Thatch jumps in.

Izou can’t hear his own voice under the sound of hundreds of pirates rising to their feet and shouting in a tidal wave of support. His own path has always been clear—he’ll follow Pops into hell even without his younger siblings’ lives on the line—but he would never begrudge the rest of the Fleet if they choose to walk away.

The entire Fleet, every last one of the Allied Crews, all of them are on their feet and stomping and shouting and hollering in support, slamming the butts of their weapons against the stadium risers and Izou’s ears ring as his Observation Haki is overwhelmed by a single feeling, over five thousand pirates united in pure determination.

Pops slams his bisento against the stage and the sound somehow radiates through the wall of noise, parting the seas and filling Izou with a surge of pure energy. They’re going to rain hell down on Marineford.

“LET’S SHOW THOSE BASTARDS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY MESS WITH OUR FAMILY!”

Chapter Text

Fourteen years ago

“Come on, she’s not going to bite you!” Thatch coaxes. The other commander shakes his head, waving his hands frantically as he steps back.

“She’s so tiny! What if I crush her?!”

“You’re not going to crush her,” Izou says gently, fanning himself with the blue fan he’s been waving in front of your face to entertain you with for the last hour. You’re still trying to get the hang of keeping track of time given that you’re still a baby and your eyes are pretty much only capable of tracking colors and very big shapes, which is useful in this case because the crewmate your new brothers have been trying to persuade to hold you is almost as big as your new dad.

Whitebeard is right behind the cluster of commanders in the giant chair on the main deck, and judging by the rumbling snores that make the whole world vibrate, he’s taking a much-needed nap. Courtesy of you being a two-week-old baby who needs constant care and attention despite all your best efforts to be the easiest baby you can be.

You don’t have a super strong opinion on all of this, because you’re pretty happy having Thatch hold you (he smells like fresh bread, okay? And he’s Thatch, you adore him already) but you would like to get a jump on learning people’s names and you aren’t going to be able to see his face unless he’s holding you up close.

So you stay quiet, watching the hypnotic sway of the blue fan back and forth in front of you while the others keep working on their crewmate.

“Alright, I’ll try,” he finally agrees and you perk up because even though there’s multiple people supervising all this, you are NOT interested in getting dropped. Marco is still on deck somewhere, he’ll catch you in the blink of an eye if you start crying—he saved you from a close call two days ago and you’re not going to lie, you feel so much better knowing he’s here.

“Put your hands like this,” Thatch instructs as he holds you out to demonstrate, “And make sure you support her head.”

“Just like that,” another crewmate whose name you still don’t know says, and just like that, Thatch hands you over. It’s disconcerting to be passed around like a sack of potatoes, but the commander moves slowly and you can feel the extreme care he’s taking as he shifts to settle you in his enormous hands. Your neck doesn’t love the new position, but Izou is already moving to adjust you before the first protest escapes your mouth.

Oh, that’s much better. The new commander is even warmer than Thatch and he’s got a glittery gold armband around his upper arm that catches the sunlight in a hypnotic gleam. Your eyes widen as you realize in delight that you can clearly distinguish between bright and dim objects in full light; that’s even better than just blocks of color.

“Aw, she likes you!” Thatch practically squeals. The pirate holding you stiffens.

“She does?” he asks nervously and it’s so endearing that you try your very best to smile at him. Still no success—you don’t have the cheek muscle development for that yet—but the pirates all melt anyway.

“She does!” Thatch agrees enthusiastically.

“You should say hi,” Izou encourages. The pirate swallows, which you only know because the motion makes his whole body move, and lowers his head to peer down at you. This close, you can make out some of his features, including his long black braid and full beard that starts at his sideburns and extends past his chin, and the collars of his open vest that stick out comically far to the sides.

“Hi there,” he says nervously, because obviously introducing himself a baby is a very stressful activity. You try your best to look happy and content to ease his worry; this whole thing is beyond endearing, “My name’s Blenheim. I’m your big brother.”

Blenheim! That’s it, that’s the last commander you couldn’t remember. Wow, that feels good, not remembering was driving you nuts. Now if only you could remember how that one song from the Sound of Music goes, that’s been bugging you all day. Eh, it’ll come back to you at some point.

You look up at Blenheim—your brother—and try your best to learn his face. The good news is, he’s the biggest crewmate on the ship, other than Jozu and your new dad. That should be easy to remember.

The face-splitting yawn takes up all of your attention for the few moments, and you hear your brothers audibly coo at how cute you are. Blenheim’s face is twisted in such intense emotion that you mark off a little tally in your head of how many pirates you’ve won over. That accomplished, you close your eyes and stop fighting the exhaustion that comes from being an infant.

Being a baby is hard work.

Thirteen years ago

You bend your legs as you land, and your clumsy little knees only buckle a little. Someone had the brilliant idea of putting a soft carpet underneath your crib, which gives you a nice cushioned landing so the fall barely hurts at all. The nightlight in the corner fills the room with a soft blue glow, another very nice touch.

In the darkness, you blink and take a second to get your bearings. You’ve had a year to get used to it now, but it still weirds you out to be so small and clumsy and—putting it bluntly—useless. Life is so much better now that you’re capable of walking but you can’t wait to get older.

“Up up up, I wan up,” you babble to yourself in the privacy of your room where none of your brothers might overhear you. Your vocabulary is pathetically limited but it still feels nice to say real words every once in a while. You’ve decided to play it safe and hold out on really talking for a while, but hopefully you’ll master all the hard sounds soon.

Meanwhile, you press your palms into the carpet and use them to leverage yourself up to your feet, and this is where all that practice is paying off. It’s clumsy, but you’re able to walk all the way across the room by yourself.

Then comes the next obstacle: the closed door.

Child’s play. Ugh, literally.

You’ve got a lot of different options, but climbing the walls is the tried and true, so why mess with success? The wood planks have pretty good foot and hand holds and your grip strength is nothing to sneeze at. Especially with all that practice from that stupid play pen, honestly, did they think you’re a farm animal? Thank fuck it’s gone, you were going crazy looking at ten-foot walls all day.

It’s not long at all before the door to freedom is open. You drop to all fours because this next part requires speed, and you crawl out of the room as fast as your little limbs can carry you.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Someone else might flinch. Or jump. Or react with guilt to being caught red-handed. You, however, are all of twelve months old and you decided a long time ago that guilt is for three-year-olds. So instead, you turn yourself around and beam at Haruta with your toothless gums and hold your hand up as high as you can.

“Lexie, it’s bedtime,” Haruta tells you firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You just smile even bigger and scooch yourself forward, trying to grab at his hand. He’s your favorite walking aid, it’s his job.

“No, Lexie. No walking, it’s time for bed.”

“Abababababa!” you answer excitedly, now reaching with your other hand.

“Bed. B-E-D.”

“Ba Ba!”

“She’s a baby, just say no!” Haruta mutters to himself. Sure enough, he crosses the few steps to take your hand, and you waste no time pulling yourself up to your feet. This opens so many more possibilities for your nightly wander, you could probably make it all the way to the lower decks with his help. “Okay, Lexie, let’s go to bed!”

He tries guiding you back to your room and you pull in the opposite direction. There’s a brief moment where he clearly considers picking you up and relocating you back to your crib, but he decides against it. Not to toot your own horn, but you’ve got your brothers pretty well trained—he knows if he puts you back, you’ll just be out again as soon as the coast is clear.

With a big sigh—one that moves him up a slot in the ranking of “most dramatic commanders”—Haruta gives in.

“Alright, Lexie, which way?”

“Abppspppsst,” you tell him, waddling off down the hall at top speed.

“Oh, really?” he asks as the two of you wander deeper into the ship towards the stairs.

“Wahaa!”

“You’re talkative tonight, aren’t you? Can you say Haruta?”

“Waaah!”

“Haruta.”

“Bababa.”

“Lexie, Ha. Roo. Tah.”

“Wabaah,” you pronounce, not even bothering to hide how entertaining you’re finding his reactions. Even with your limited vocabulary, you could get much closer to pronouncing his name if you wanted. But where’s the fun in that? Besides, your first word is going to be “dad,” you’re not risking a civil war by saying one of your brothers’ names first.

Finally, the two of you reach the back stairs; they’re much narrower than the main staircase, and less crowded too. Haruta holds you steady as you brave the steps one at a time, making a big effort to lift your legs properly as you descend. Every time you glance back up at him, he gives you an encouraging smile, but it’s clear that he’s laser focused on his task.

A trio of your brothers are coming up the stairs the opposite way and they all pause to take in the scene. They all look confused and entertained. The one in front with long red hair braided like a Viking’s beard tilts his head at you both.

“Isn’t it past her bedtime, Commander?”

Haruta gives him a pleading look.

“Don’t tell Marco, okay?”

“Ooba!” you add excitedly, raising your free hand in their direction, making a little grabby motion. You don’t recognize these brothers and you’re still trying to learn names, so every chance helps.

“Uh…”

“She wants help with the stairs,” Haruta translates, and you love the way that Viking-beard lights up, even as the two behind him bristle with jealousy. With each of your hands held aloft, you can hop down the stairs with all the confidence a twelve-month-old can possibly possess. It’s much faster. Which is good because Viking-beard (whose name you find out three-steps from the bottom is Frenkle, and all three of them are in Jozu’s division) is clearly getting tired from bending down so far. There’s a reason Haruta is your preferred walking-aid.

You’re now two floors down from where you started, and that’s a perfect place to go wandering for this evening. So you let go of Frenkel’s hand and smile up at him, making your best imitation of a little wave with a grab-and-release motion.

And with that, you tug on Haruta’s hand and pick a new direction to waddle down.

“Where are you going?” Haruta asks in befuddlement as you peer through door after door in search of a good spot. He doesn’t expect you to respond, which is good because you’re quickly running out of steam and you need to conserve your energy.

The next door reveals a big room with lots of portholes along one side that let you see the dark sky outside, dotted with thousands of stars. There’s lots of couches and tables and cabinets and you stumble your way inside. This is new.

“Aaaaaaah?” you ask, tugging on Haruta’s hand.

“It’s a common room,” Haruta explains. Then he blinks. “Why am I explaining this to a baby?”

Because it’s the polite thing to do, is what you’d say if you were capable of speaking. Instead, you tug on his hand and pull him toward one of the couches. A massive yawn splits your face, and you know that your game time is nearly up. But there’s still one more twist you can add.

You drop Haruta’s hand and plop down to the ground, switching to all-fours for pure efficiency as you crawl under the couch. There’s really no need to crawl, the couch is enormous and the space under it is quite roomy.

“Lexie!” Haruta protests, trying to grab you and just barely missing, “Get out of there!”

No. You don’t think you will.

You crawl closer to the wall and lie down, letting yourself get nice and comfy on the floor. That’s the best part about being a baby: it’s somehow comfortable to fall asleep anywhere.

Haruta curses—that’s a dollar for the swear jar, buddy—and drops to all fours to squeeze under the couch after you. You smile sweetly at him as he maneuvers into the space, but the second he tries to pick you up, you start crying. Haruta stops immediately, pulling his hand back like he burned you, and you let your cries fade.

“You really want to sleep under here?” Haruta asks, half-pleading as he tries, “What about your nice, warm crib? Full of soft things and zero cobwebs?”

You just reach out and make a grabbing motion. Haruta knows the game well enough by now that he just sighs. He ducks out of sight for a second, then reappears under the couch.

“At least we’ll know where you are tomorrow,” he mutters, moving forward to let you grab onto him. He’s dragging a pillow and a blanket with him. You sigh as contentedly as a year-old baby possibly can as he curls up under the couch with you. You’re warm, cozy, and snuggled up with your big brother. And best of all, tomorrow’s game of “Find the Baby” is going to be the best one yet.

Eleven years ago

“Well?” Atmos hoists you up onto his shoulder, holding each of your tiny hands in his much larger ones as he slowly turns so you can see the whole archipelago, “What do you think?”

Sabaody Archipelago is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Atmos pulled the lucky straw, so while the rest of the crew was running around preparing the ship to surface after a long journey from Fishman Island, Atmos got to tell you all about the Hustle Muscle Mangroves and the unique plants that grow all over them that you can’t find anywhere else in the world. He’s planning to spend some of the trip collecting specimens for the little greenhouse he keeps on one of the lower levels. It’s fascinating actually, one of the allied captains that never made it into the manga has a variation of a light-type paramecia, Gene Paul and Blamenco managed to help Atmos engineer these super-powered indoor grow lights. Atmos has plants from all over the Blues and the Grand Line too, it’s like stepping into a fantasy world on the few occasions you’ve gotten to go inside (there are some very dangerous plants in there and you’re all of three years old so you’re trying to be a good sport about it). 

You’ve dreamed of seeing Sabaody with your own two eyes ever since the day the Whitebeards decided to keep you, but you never imagined you’d get to see it so soon. It might sound stupid but it never occurred to you that the Emperor’s crew would ever leave the New World. It wasn’t until the Moby Dick departed Fishman Island in the other direction that you realized it would be kind of dumb to make the entire trip under the sea and then just… turn around and go home.

There’s so much you want to see, Sabaody is the culmination of so many routes along Paradise and you’re fascinated by a place where so many people and cultures meet. You want to try to the food and meet the people who live here and see what it’s like on this side of the Red Line. Not to mention the geopolitical implications of a place so close to Marine Headquarters, obviously you hope there’s no trouble while your family is here but there’s bound to be some extremely interesting information you can overhear.

But there’s still the matter of you being three years old, so instead of saying any of that, you clap your tiny little hands together and exclaim, “Bubbles!”

Ten years ago

The party is going in full swing by the time the music starts up. You’re sitting at the head table in between your dad and Marco in a tall chair that lets you see all the way down the long table to watch your family mingle with the grateful villagers.

It’s only been a few hours since the Whitebeards destroyed the slaver ring that’s been terrorizing this island in secret for years (shh, you’re not supposed to know that part, your family works very hard to keep you sheltered and happy) and the island’s residents wasted no time throwing the biggest party you’ve ever seen.

“Allie Alligator!” Thatch cheers, ducking in close to press a kiss to your flushed cheeks. His breath smells like beer but he’s only just tipsy enough for his few inhibitions to fly into the wind, “Come dance with me!”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“Dancing! Come on, silly, you know what dancing is!”

“Uh-uh!” you protest, shaking your head insistently.

“Come here, I’ll show you!”

Thatch pulls you out of your chair and carries you over to the big dirt circle near where the musicians have set up. You don’t recognize the song, but it’s fast and upbeat and the tempo is electrifying, and you understand why it makes your brother want to dance.

“Put your feet on top of mine, just like that!” Thatch says as he balances each of your feet on top of his, carefully holding onto your hands.

You blink up at him, innocent and trusting and sweet. Thatch looks down at you in sheer adoration.

“Now what?” you ask.

“Now, this!”

And with that, he bursts into motion. He twirls and swirls and springs you up in the air all in time with the music. The laughter that bubbles out of you is pure, unfiltered joy, and the sound makes Thatch laugh along with you.

The two of you dance together, in a blur of matching footsteps and laughter and dizzying spins, and it’s the kind of fun that makes you so, so, so grateful to be four years old and tiny enough for him to twirl you around so easily. Your heart is pounding and your face hurts from smiling and laughing so hard, and it’s the most fun you’ve ever had.

The music stops too soon and as the musicians take a short break to prepare for the next song, you jump up and down on top of his feet. When you shout, “Again, again, again!” it’s only a little bit because you’re trying your best to act like an excited four-year-old.

You still don’t know how you got stuck in this dream. You don’t know how to wake up. And you have absolutely no idea how to get home. But none of that changes the fact that you love Thatch with all your heart, he’s the most wonderful big brother you could ever ask for, and you would do absolutely anything for him. You’re going to do whatever it takes to save him.

Nine years ago

“Maraschino! You’re back! I missed you!” you exclaim, giving your brother a big hug and a matching smile.

“Missed you too, Alce,” Maraschino hugs you back before patting you on the head. You grin at him until he hefts his bag over his shoulder and heads for the gangplank. Which is good because the next brother is already kneeling down to your eye height—it takes a second because he’s very tall, and you use that second to wrack your brain because green hair should be enough to figure it out but there’s fifteen different brothers with green hair, you need something else… like the blue eyes! That’s it, blue eyes and green hair is bg, like Bee Gees. Bee Gees, Stayin’ Alive—

“Stane!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around your big brother and giving him a big hug and an even bigger smile. “You’re back! I missed you!”

“Missed you so much, Andry,” Stane says, “A whole day is a long time, huh?”

“Ahuh! It’s forever!” you agree emphatically, nodding your head in a big motion to try and get a glimpse of the brother behind him and your smile gets even wider because that’s an easy one.

“Darwin!” you shout, hugging your brother excitedly because there’s only about thirty fishmen on the crew and he’s the only goldfish fishman.

“Missed you, Lex!” Darwin hugs you back before pulling away and looking you over from head to toe, “Hey, did you get taller since yesterday?”

“No!” you giggle as you shake your head with all the vigor of a five-year-old, which is a lot, “I’m still little!”

“That’s good,” Darwin agrees, patting you on the back, “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“You are too!”

Darwin hurries away before anyone can see the blush on his face (and you hide your laugh because it should not be so much fun to embarrass your big, tough pirate brothers by open affection but it really is).

You’re not expecting the next brother, mostly because he cuts the whole line.

“Lexa, yoi,” Marco says, scooping you up into his arms so he doesn’t have to bend down to talk to you, “The whole crew had shore leave yesterday. We’re going to be here all day if you say hi to every one of them before they can get on the ship.”

“We don’t mind waiting, Commander Marco!” the next brother in line says immediately. That salmon-colored hair is another easy one, he’s Armando from Jozu’s division. Actually, there’s a bunch from Jozu’s division all standing in line together, you’d recognize Frenkel’s long braided beard anywhere.

“Yeah!”

“We wanna wait!”

“I misded them!” you add, sneaking in a little mispronunciation to soften up the First Division Commander. This is important family bonding time, you’re only going to be this adorable for so long, you need to make sure all your brothers know how much they mean to you. Also, this is your ultimate exam, you’ve been studying for months (technically, years) and you’re finally confident that you know everyone’s name. Point is, you have a lot of reasons to want to finish what you started an hour ago.

“Come on, Marco!” Thatch protests, and when Marco turns, you have the angle to see all the Commanders gathered at the railing, staring down at the winding parade of pirates that stretches all the way along the beach and into the town beyond it. All your brothers are lined up, patiently waiting their turn for their welcome-back greeting from you. “You can’t tell me it’s not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen!”

“Besides, it’s not like we’re in a hurry,” Curiel tosses out. Blamenco blows you a kiss and a goofy wave and you wave back with both hands.

“Tomorrow’s weather looks just as good,” Rakuyo confirms, crossing his arms over the railing and leaning in, “No need to set sail tonight.”

Marco sighs, and then shakes his head in exasperation.

“Alright, then. If you’re sure.”

He gets a resounding “yes, Commander!” from the entire line and you’re pretty sure there’s some people from town who’ve come down to the beach to watch the spectacle who chime in too. (They better not get in line; you’ve got enough names to deal with as it is).

He sets you down on your feet and you waste no time throwing your tiny self at the next brother in line.

“Armando! You’re back!”

Eight years ago

Cat Viper smells like grass. And tomato sauce. Or maybe that’s just the stain on his shirt. It’s not a bad smell, it just makes you think about lasagna for some reason.

You are currently enjoying the delightful irony of being curled up on his lap while the Cat Mink pets you.

It feels great.

You yawn as you stir from your nap, because Zou is so much fun but it’s also the most exhausting place you’ve ever been and you’re only six, your body can’t handle that kind of energy without lots of rest. Which brings you to the fact that sitting opposite Cat Viper, inside the same hut, is Izou.

Who’s spent the last hour talking to Dogstorm.

You had nothing to do with this, for once. As much as it sucks knowing that the two friends are so deeply at odds, you know that Momonosuke is the only one who’ll be able to bridge that gap between them for good.

But again, you’re six. The Minks adore you, if you thought your family was obsessed with you, the Minks put them to shame. Every day is a holiday with how many presents and clothes and toys you’re gifted with, and of course, all the Minks want to play with you. It’s so fun and so exhausting, and you are simply not capable of staying awake past your bedtime.

No dead-of-night planning sessions in the privacy of your room, either. When you close your eyes, you are out until morning.

It only took Cat Viper a few days to realize that meant if he wanted to spend any time with you, it was going to have to be during daylight hours. Meaning Dogstorm’s hours. Which brings you to this compromise.

The timer that woke you up is still ringing, and you yawn again as you rub your eyes, but you know exactly what it means so you dutifully raise your arms towards Dogstorm.

Cat Viper doesn’t look happy about it, but he doesn’t complain as the other Mink gathers you up and sits back down in his original spot. Izou meets your eyes and you scrunch your nose up for a second.

Thank you, Izou mouths silently, patting you on the arm as Dogstorm settles you in. You’re being a very good sport about the whole thing, if you do say so yourself. It’s annoying to be passed around like this. But you’re also aware that it’s a pretty monumental thing for them to even be sitting in the same room without arguing.

Honestly, as much as you like Uncle Doggy and Kitty, you’re not doing it for them.

This is all for Izou.

You yawn again and Dogstorm chuckles.

“Good nap?”

“Mhm,” you nod, although it would be a stretch to say that the nap is over since you’re still half-asleep and your face is buried in his jacket. It’s not as soft as Cat Viper’s, but there is no way in hell you’re saying anything because the last thing they need is more fuel to feed their rivalry.

“Are you-gara hungry?” he asks, his paw running along the back of your shirt.

“Pedro brought some lunch by while you-gara were asleep,” Cat Viper chimes in an effort not to be outdone, shooting a half-glare at Dogstorm.

“Can I have juice?” you ask, and no sooner are the words out of your mouth than there’s two cups being thrust at you. Your eye flit back and forth between the two mugs of juice, one yellow and one a berry red, and even though they both look good, you know you can’t pick. So instead you crinkle up your nose and point at the cup Izou’s holding. “I want that one!”

“Eh?”

“Huh?”

“What do you say, honey?”

“Please?”

“Alright, you can have mine,” Izou says, passing his cup of juice over to you and you take it, grateful to have avoided that particular landmine. He sighs, shaking his head and you honestly can’t tell if he doesn’t know you’re just trying not to set off another round of arguing. “She’s going through a picky eating phase.”

Cat Viper snorts.

“Just like Okiku,” the Mink laughs, “I thought she went crazy when she wouldn’t eat anymore oden!”

Dogstorm laughs at that. He actually laughs at something Cat Viper said, is the world ending???

“I’d never seen Lord Oden so annoyed!”

“What was it that Denjiro said?” Izou chuckles, reaching forward to grab one of the biggest grapes you’ve ever seen in your life. Actually, there’s no way it’s a grape, it’s the size of a watermelon.

You drink your juice and settle in as the three of them get caught up reminiscing, laughing at old memories of their first family and the people they love and lost. It feels like you’re intruding on something so deeply personal, but at the same time, you’re aware this moment can only happen because you’re here. So you stay quiet and listen and force yourself not to react every time they say that bastard Kanjuro’s name, trying to just enjoy the stories about people you hope to meet one day. Who knows if this dream will last that long, but if you’re still here for the Battle of Wano, you want to be right in the middle of the action.

This is the best part. Hearing stories of Oden and Toki and all the rest of the Akazaya from the people who knew them best. Obviously, you’re incredibly invested in restoring the Kozuki clan to Wano’s throne, but it’s not just a story to you. Oden was the man your dad loved like a brother, he’s the man Izou devoted so much of his life to, he’s the missing commander and the uncle whose absence still resonates in everything your family does. Oden and Toki and Momonosuke and Hyori and all their retainers are part of your family and you want to know everything about them.

Conversation flows for a while, but eventually the silence returns. After an hour of laughter and banter and shared memories, it feels even heavier than before. Cat Viper is absorbed in studying the empty bowl of fruit. Dogstorm is carefully stacking cups without disturbing your spot on his legs. Izou’s face is pinched and you don’t miss the way he’s looking back and forth between them, trying to find something else to say to make his way across the chasm.

You frown, looking down at your empty juice cup. There’s something you’ve always wanted to know.

“Do you think Uncle Oden would like me?” you ask quietly. Instantly, all three of them sit up straighter.

“Are you-gara kidding?!” Cat Viper practically yowls, “He would’ve loved you!”

“He adored children,” Dogstorm adds, “Even if he tried to pretend otherwise.”

“Really?”

“You know, your cousins were born on the Moby Dick,” Izou tells you quietly. You did already know that, but it’s the first anyone said anything about it to you.

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Izou nods.

“It’s true,” Dogstorm confirms.

“We were both there,” Cat Viper adds, before his face twists in a way that makes you giggle because he looks absolutely ridiculous, “Well not there there, those nurses wouldn’t let us in the room for the actual—uh… it doesn’t matter.”

“Did I ever tell you about how Uncle Oden met your Aunt Toki?” Izou asks, neatly steering to a new line of thought. You shake your head, eyes as wide as your gaping mouth because he’s never told you about any of this before, and Izou gives you a big smile. “Well, it all started when the Moby Dick left Wano…”

Seven years ago

“I raise a million!” you announce boldly as you eagerly push your chips into the center where the massive pot sits. Your brothers snicker behind their cards and try to pretend they’re not laughing at you; little do they know, you’re also trying to keep a straight face. You’ve been “forgetting” how much the chips are worth ever since they started letting you play cards with them and you’re hoping to get another year out of that joke before they catch on.

“You don’t have a million berries, Lassie,” Curiel corrects gently as he reaches over to pat you on the head. You let your face twist with confusion, the picture of seven-year-old innocence, and look up at him.

“Oh.”

Thatch snorts into his hand, leaning on Haruta who’s also trying his hardest not to laugh. Marco swats them both on the head, which only makes everyone laugh harder.

“How much did I bet, then?” you blink using your cutest expression to maximum effect.

“Nineteen berries,” Curiel tells you.

“Oh,” you repeat, still feigning innocence. You turn to your other side and clamber across Rakuyo’s lap to get to Jozu. You reach up as high as you can and tug at his sleeve, making the gesture for “come here so I can whisper something to you” until he leans down as far as he can.

“Can I borrow a million?” you stage-whisper to him. Fossa breaks first, a laugh betraying his oh-so-stoic demeanor as Jozu reaches down to his sizeable pile of chips (it’s much bigger than yours, which makes sense because you haven’t won a single hand yet) and grabs a few.

“A million’s too much, but you can have a thousand,” he says as he drops more chips than your little hands can physically hold into your palms. You try to fight your surprise because this is actual money you’re all playing with (which is why your brothers don’t let you bet more than a few berries a round), and then you beam up at him. If your hands weren’t completely full, you’d hug him. That was the fastest thousand berries you’ve ever made. (It’s way easier than your usual method of fundraising by going around the ship asking your siblings for snack money at “random.” You’ve got a list and you’re extremely careful not to repeat siblings or divisions too often—the last thing you need is for Marco or your dad to discover how many berries you have stashed under a floorboard in your room— but all of the plans you’ve come up with to save your family will require actual money to pull off, so you’ve been saving up for a while.)

“Wow! Thanks Jozu! You’re the bestest ever!”

Jozu lights up as your other brothers immediately start protesting, but you’re busy trying to climb back over Rakuyo with your hands completely full.

“Here, kid,” your brother picks you up and effortlessly swings you around to your original spot, before handing you the couple of chips you dropped. You let your mouth drop as you look over at him, and he winks at you while all your other brothers are still protesting Jozu bribing you for your favoritism. Direct action. You approve; Rakuyo is officially the bestest. The cards you’re holding look exactly like your original hand from the back side, but you didn’t have a straight flush when you bet the farm (all nineteen berries of it). You make a note to yourself that Rakuyo is shockingly good at sleight of hand.

Before any of your brothers can catch on, you drop your cards and excitedly push your entire stack of chips into the pot, nearly matching Curiel’s raise to twelve hundred berries.

“All in!” you cheer.

Instantly, all your brothers sweatdrop. There’s lots of things you’re good at and poker just isn’t one of them. You were an okay player back home, but even in One Piece, there’s no way a sheltered seven-year-old would ever beat out experienced pirates at a betting game. Plus, it’s way funnier to make terrible decisions and watch your brothers panic over the thought of you losing all your money.

“Honey, why don’t you save some of that instead? Enough to buy a few candies on the next island, at least?” Izou tries first. You shake your head and grin.

“Mmm-mmm! All in!”

“Al, I don’t have a good feeling about this round,” Vista says, “What if you come play on my team for me instead?”

Aww, he’s so sweet. He’ll really let you lose a few thousand of his berries just to keep you from “bankrupting” yourself.

“Nope! I have two… uh… nevermind!” you announce loudly, like you just forgot that you’re not supposed to tell everyone what your cards are. But by the way your brothers flinch, most of them have much better cards than a single pair.

Fossa looks down at his cards, then at the pile of chips in the center, and his face twists. He’s conflicted; it’s a big enough loss he thinks you’ll be devastated by it, but it’s the biggest pot of the entire game. They can’t just call the round off. Besides, you never get upset about losing, only when they don’t let you play.

“You’re really sure, Andy?” Fossa asks hesitantly. You nod with all the confidence and excitement you have.

“Yeah! All in!”

“Alright…” Fossa says, biting on his cigar, “Rakuyo?”

Rakuyo acts it up, pretending to look conflicted as he sighs and tosses a stack of chips onto the pile.

“Sorry, Xandy, I’m gonna have to call.”

“Jozu?”

“Fold.”

Awww, Jozu. What a sap.

Fossa looks around anxiously and your brothers all look equally anxious, but personally, you can’t wait.

“Alright, boys and girl, let’s see ‘em.”

Everyone turns over their cards.

“Honey, you have to show us your cards too,” Izou reminds you.

“Oh, right!”

You flip your cards over and revel in the pandemonium.

Four years ago

“There’s a very important reason I asked you along,” Vista tells you as the two of you stroll down the street. You’re swinging your clasped hands together as you walk, and every few steps, Vista hoists you up into the air as you skip. The other members of Vista’s division are scattered around the small town, so it’s just the two of you heading towards the mystery destination.

You nod.

“Your mustache,” you say solemnly. It’s getting way too big for his face and the ends are too thin for the style he’s trying out.

Vista stops walking, a surprised and very real expression of hurt on his face.

“What’s wrong with my mustache?” he asks and your mouth shuts itself with a little click.

Oops.

“Uh…”

Fuck. It looks so bad but he takes so much pride in it, you don’t want to hurt his feelings but something has to change.

“…it needs more wax,” you lie, because if he’s going to keep it, then it can at least stay in the style he’s trying to wear.

“Oh,” Vista nods, still looking a bit put out but not nearly as crushed as he would be if you told him the truth about his terrible mustache. It didn’t look this bad in the story, maybe there’s still hope for him. When the fifth division gets back to the Moby, you’ll make an… accidental comment to Izou. If anyone can fix that thing, it’s him. “Alright, I’m sure I can find some more somewhere around here.”

“So…” you prompt, tying to distract him from your slip, “Where are we going?”

“I thought you could help me pick out a new hat,” Vista tells you just as the shop comes into view, and a delighted smile stretches across your face because you LOVE shopping, fashion in this world is so beyond ridiculous that you literally never know what you’re going to find, and that goes double for accessories.

Most of the islands you stop at have some fun shops to explore, but you never get to spend nearly long enough in them. Unless you’re with Izou or the nurses, but that always turns into your sisters putting you in the cutesiest clothes you’ve ever seen. Which is fun too, especially when you can rope them into trying on ridiculous clothes themselves, but it’s not the most productive.

A few steps inside the hat store and your eyes are already twinkling at the sight. Fedoras and fezzes festoon the furniture, sombreros, safaris, and stetsons stock the shelves, trilbys, tams, toques and trappers top the tables, and bowlers, berets, beanies, boaters, buckets and bonnets besiege the… uh… shelves… (okay, look, there’s not a lot of words for hat displays that start with b).

Vista raises his eyebrows at you and asks, “Well? Think we’ll be able to find something?”

You nod excitedly because this is perfect, that’s what was missing from his outfit! Sure the mustache has to step up its game, but Vista needs his hat! You’re pretty sure he wore a top hat in canon, but you’re not tied to that.

“Come on! The orange ones are over there!”

“Orange? Why orange?” Vista blinks.

“So you and Ace can match!” you tell him (just to see the look on his face as he considers how badly the orange will clash with his signature blue bodysuit).

“Al, hang on! Hang on a second!”

But you’re already taking off for the aisles.

Two years ago

“He’s coming your way!” you shout, heart pounding with adrenaline.

“I see him!”

Ace sends up a wall of flames that cuts off the path and sends the giant stag beetle sprinting the other way. He’s the biggest bug you’ve ever seen in your life, he’s gotta be the size of a truck. The Moby had only just docked when you caught sight of him through the tree line, and since Ace was off-duty and you’d finished all your chores, the two of you were off chasing the beetle the second you made eye contact.

The beetle is rapidly approaching, massive legs impaling the dirt as the beast hurtles through the trees, and you take a few steps back. It’s all about the timing.

With a few taps on the ground to make sure you’ve got the right rhythm, you charge forward, running straight for the collision course with the universe’s biggest beetle. He’s even more imposing up close, and your Observation Haki can only tell you that he’s about to trample you. Bending your knees, you launch yourself into the air and somehow grab hold of one of those ginormous legs.

“Yeah! Nice one, Alex!” Ace cheers when he sees you successfully latch on to the bug’s side. Grinning as you grit your teeth, you swing your legs up and shimmy up the beetle’s foreleg. It’s not easy to keep your grip with the bug still charging through the woods like a maniac, but you’re riding this thing one way or another. You climb over the top of its leg and hoist yourself onto the armored shell covering its thorax; it’s big enough that the textured shell has plenty of grooves and lumps you can dig your fingers into to hold your grip. Even so, you’re clinging to it as hard as you can to avoid getting thrown off, and it’s only a combination of extremely good balance and incredible grip strength that are holding you on. You never got a chance to go to a rodeo in your real life, but you’re pretty sure this is exactly like trying to ride a bull.

“Throw me the rope!” you shout, and all you can see is the orange flash of Ace’s hat from way up here.

“Incoming!”

You’re able to let go with one hand for the brief second it takes to catch the end of the line Ace throws you, and you immediately stick it between your teeth (which is not a particularly easy way to hold a rope, you have to coat a little bit of Haki onto your teeth to dig them in enough to get a hold) so you can use both your hands to rebalance. Then you have a chance to free the first hand and coil all the rope up as best as you can, because with the way this bug is charging around, letting go completely is a one-way ticket to the ground.

Little jets of fire burst into the air as Ace herds the bug around, slowing him down enough for you to throw the rope one-handed and lasso one of its massive antlers. Or try anyway, your aim is not great. It takes a couple attempts but you’re finally able to catch the antler with your loop and pull it tight.

“GOT IT!” you shout. Ace lets out a loud whoop and calls back, “Here’s the other!”

It’s a little harder to get the second rope tied, because you’re still clinging to the back of a massive beetle and it is not a gentle ride and you’re also trying not to drop the end of the first rope, but eventually you get it.

You’re beaming as you tie the two ends of the rope together, forming a makeshift set of reins for the beast.

“We got em!” you call. You grab the makeshift reins and tug as hard as you can, and it’s just enough to pull the beetle’s head back and slow him down a tiny bit. You don’t feel any annoyance in the creature’s Haki, only a bit of confusion, so you’re pretty sure he hasn’t even noticed you’re on top of its back.

“Right!” Ace shouts back.

A second later, there’s a burst of orange light as Ace propels himself into the air and easily lands on the charging beetle. He slides into place behind you, his chest a wall of solid muscle at your back and his sturdy legs bracketing both of yours. He reaches around you to grab the reins in one hand and steady you with his other arm.

As soon as he has you, you let go completely; Ace won’t let you fall.

“You ready?”

“Let’s do it!” you cheer, throwing your hands up in the air.

“HYAH!” Ace shouts, snapping the reins and digging his heel into the side of the bug like an experienced cowboy, and the next thing you know, you, Ace, and the beetle are hurtling along at top speeds. You’re not sure if you’re laughing, whooping, flat-out screaming in delight, or some very loud combination of all three because this is better than any roller coaster you’ve ever been on. Ace’s arm holds you in your seat, his deafening laughter in your ears, and the two of you go for the ride of your lives.

You and Ace ride the beetle for a while, long enough for a bemused phoenix to appear in the air above you.

“Oh, there you are,” Marco says, pulling up just ahead of the beetle so that his outstretched wings carry him to match the monstrous insect’s pace, “Having fun, yoi?”

“Marco! You have to try this!” you exclaim, face flushed from the adrenaline rush. The beetle suddenly hurdles over a giant boulder and you get a few seconds of hang-time during the fall, and you can hear Ace whooping with joy as you laugh from the stomach-dropping surge.

“Unless you’re too chicken!” Ace teases, his arm still wrapped securely around your midsection.

“I don’t know…” Marco drawls. He lazily flips over in midair as he effortlessly keeps pace with your steed, and the look on his face is as condescending as a bird can possibly be, “That thing seems a little slow for my taste.”

Ace sits up straighter, the challenge burning hot through his bloodstream. You readjust your legs, grabbing onto the beetle’s shell to brace yourself for a sudden burst of speed. Ace is going to need both hands to steer this thing.

“You want to race?!” Ace demands and you know him well enough to see that nothing on this earth could get him to cede the challenge.

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll be much of a race to me,” Marco taunts.

“You’re on!”

One year ago

“That’s time! Pencils down!” Namur calls, holding up the stopwatch. You drop your pencil and grin up at your dad, who thinks he’s being slick by hiding his pencil-hand under his coat to add a couple more lines. He needs all the help he can get, you won’t call him out on it.

“Alright, let’s see ‘em! Lexie, you first.”

You flip over your paper and hold it out to the judges.

“Very nice!” Kingdew nods, taking a good long look at your drawing.

“I second that,” Jiru agrees.

“Aw, LP, it looks just like him!” Tate exclaims, “You really got the face down.”

“A couple of the proportions are off,” Rakuyo comments. He points at the distance between the eyes, and from the corner of the mouth to the jaw and you crane forward to get a good look at where his finger is going. “It should be a little longer here, you’re using the mustache as the reference for the eyeline right?”

You nod. Rakuyo nods back and continues, “You’ll be right on if you extend this line a little further. But it’s a really nice effort.”

“Nice effort?” Haruta protests, “She did that in half an hour, our girl’s a prodigy!”

You blush. You are absolutely not a prodigy, you’ve been drawing for thirty years and you’ve still got a long way to go on face proportions. But the praise still feels nice.

“Pops, it’s your turn,” Jiru calls, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. You’re not totally sure how roping your dad into drawing with you turned into an entire production, complete with a timer and a panel of judges (and several hundred of your brothers crammed onto the deck to spectate), but you’re every bit as excited to see what he’s come up with as the rest of your family.

“Ah, well… I think it’s plenty clear who the winner is,” your dad waves a dismissive hand as he leans back in his chair. You snort into your hand, trying to pretend you aren’t laughing at him. You know exactly how much artistic talent your dad has.

“Come on, Pops, you worked hard on that!” Thatch encourages, “We all want to see!”

“Oh no you don’t,” your dad responds.

“Pops, I’m sure it’s great,” Saoirse pats him encouragingly on the arm. Nina and Isabel look over from the nurses’ station to nod.

“You’re a man of so many talents,” Christiane calls over.

“Alright, you lot are no help,” your dad scoffs, turning his back on the nurses and their clear delight in his misery. You stay quiet; you’re ready to pull out the big guns if he really doesn’t want to share, but you can’t play your cards too soon.

“You agreed to the rules, Pops,” Fossa points out. He’s sitting on the railing behind the judges table, arms crossed over his chest and one pointed eyebrow raised all the way up to his temple. “Not much of an example if you back out.”

“I’m a pirate,” your dad shoots back, “Since when do I have to follow the rules?”

“Pops, it’s one drawing,” Izou drawls as he strides forward to plant one manicured hand on top of your head, “Lexie already put herself out for judgement, it’s hardly fair if you let her face that alone.”

“Andrea has actual talent,” your dad responds gruffly and the praise makes your cheeks glow as bright as the feeling in your chest; the drawing of him is far from perfect, but you were really nervous to show it to all your brothers and it really means a lot to you that they all liked it so much.

“Come on, Pops!”

“Yeah, show us!”

“SHOW US! SHOW US! SHOW US!”

There’s no stopping the chant once it picks up steam, and you’re not chanting along but you are grinning like a maniac, and it’s time to pull out the big guns. You tug your dad’s sleeve just above his charm bracelet (the match to yours) and give him your biggest, sweetest, most earnest puppy eyes.

“Please, dad? I really want to see,” you ask quietly. Your dad holds out for exactly two heartbeats before he sighs. The entire deck erupts with cheering as he holds out his massive paper to Jozu, who unfolds it and holds it up for the whole crew to see. In an instant, the cheers change to thunderous laughter.

Your dad huffs and buries his face in his palm.

Jozu is holding your dad’s drawing up for the judges to see, and Jiru is collapsed onto Kingdew, both of them howling with laughter. Tate is laughing so hard she can’t breathe, and Rakuyo has fully face-planted into the table as he slams his fist against the wood. The rest of the crew is laughing away, and it’s clear that Marco also finds the whole thing funny even if he isn’t laughing.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Pops!”

“We should’ve had you draw the flag!”

“You’re all disowned, you brats!” you dad calls back, although the initial surge of embarrassment faded quickly and he’s laughing along with everyone else.

The drawing is not, shall we say, accurate. It’s fair to say that it doesn’t look very much like you. But the longer you look, the more there is to see. Like the lines that make up your hair, he clearly tried to match the braided style you like best—you don’t get to wear it too often, it takes forever for Izou to do it right, but it is your favorite hairstyle. Or the wide-eyes and matching grin, it’s an attempt at the expression you make when something really cool and fun happens and your whole face lights up with it.

Your face flushes the longer you look. The artistic skill is missing, but everything else is there. It’s a drawing of you by the person who loves you the most and knows you best; he even included your ruby charm bracelet on the correct wrist.

Your dad is still laughing too hard to realize that you’ve climbed onto his lap, but he notices immediately when you throw yourself into his chest to give him a big hug.

“I love it!” you tell him quietly, just between the two of you. Your dad blinks in surprise, but his hands wrap around you in a matching hug.

“It’s a long way from perfect,” your dad admits and you shake your head immediately.

“Nope! It’s perfect, just the way it is,” you insist. The two of you stay there long enough for the rest of the crew to realize something really sweet is happening, and you can’t resist the teasing grin that pulls onto your face even if you mean every single word, “Can we hang it up?”

“Now hang on a second—"

Twenty minutes ago.

“You’re smaller than I thought you’d be.”

There’s nothing worth looking at. Not the Marines in the room, not the transponder snail that keeps relaying orders, and not the screen displaying a live feed of the execution stand, and definitely not the door opposite the one you entered through. You keep your eyes fixed on your lap, where your cuffed hands rest.

“What? Nothing to say?” Akainu taunts. You glare up at him, teeth clenched together as your eyes rake over his face.

“With that receding hair line,” you bite out as you stare the bastard dead in the eyes, “I see why you need the hat.”

Akainu grabs you by the arm and yanks you forward until he looms over you, crushing any and all personal space you used to have. You swallow as terror floods your chest, but you hold your ground as best as you can. You’re glad for the cuffs suddenly; you can tell yourself that your terror only helps sell the lie that the sea stone affects you.

“Just give me a reason,” the Admiral growls, flecks of spit hitting you in the face, “Your blood is just as filthy as Roger’s bastard. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be doing the world a favor.”

Fury surges through you at him insulting Ace like that, but you force yourself to breathe through it even as your heart pounds with rage. Your pulse hammers away in your ears. You are not going to give him what he wants. He can bait you as hard as he wants, you refuse to bite.

“This entire mess is a sham,” Akainu spits. The other Marines in the room—the tiny room, where you’re cuffed and trapped with the Admiral who just told you he wants you dead—must be his. Because they all nod their agreement, hateful and disgusted eyes glaring daggers at you. No one has ever looked at you like that before, like the scum on the soles of their shoes, not in either of your lives. It’s terrifying. And for no other reason than the fact that they think you are Whitebeard’s biological daughter. “The only true Justice in this world will have every pirate’s head on a pike and their ship sent to Davy Jones’ locker.”

He grabs you by the chin and pushes your head back so you can’t keep ignoring him; all you can do is glare at him and bite your tongue to stop yourself from spitting at the bastard.

“Mark my words, Alexandria,” he spits your name like mud and you nearly draw blood because your dad gave you that name and it’s yours, this bastard has no right to use it, “No matter what happens today, Fire Fist is just the start.”

Your Haki shivers ominously and nausea floods your stomach. That sounds like a vow.

Now.

“Not so fast, Whitebeard. We knew there was a possibility that you might show up,” Sengoku announces to the entire world, which is still reeling from the revelation that Ace is the son of a man who’s been dead for twenty-two years, “Which is why we came prepared.”

Admiral Akainu steps forward onto the platform.

In unison, five thousand pirates gasp in horror. You stand tall on the platform, as tall as you can with sea stone cuffs around your wrists and the Mad Dog’s palm pressing down on your shoulder.

“ALEX!!” Ace screams, jerking in his chains and fighting like he’s possessed by a demon to get free. You bite your lip to avoid looking at him; this is literally your worst nightmare and your entire family’s worst nightmare all in one and you refuse to give the Marines the satisfaction of breaking down. “Let her go!!!!”

“Edward Alexandria. Your daughter, Whitebeard,” Sengoku announces, because the cameras are rolling and the world needs the propaganda to be spelled out for them. You fight with everything you have to keep your expression under control while the world’s attention is fixed on you. In front of you is a literal sea of Marines, with a hundred thousand troops between you and your family, and the most homicidal Admiral the Navy has ever produced all but crushing the bones in your shoulder with a single hand. “While not a pirate herself, she is a known accomplice to thousands of criminals and has aided and abetted in countless criminal acts. Despite that, we are willing to drop all charges and release her unharmed once the execution is completed.”

Sengoku pauses for effect and Akainu tightens his grip on your shoulder until it hurts badly enough that your fingernails draw blood when you dig them into your palms to stop yourself from screaming. You refuse to give them that kind of satisfaction, not in front of the entire world.

“However, if you or any member of your fleet attempt to interfere, she will be executed immediately.”

Oh.

That’s why Akainu is the one holding you.

He won’t hesitate.

A wall of sound hits you from all the way up on the scaffold, thousands of your brothers and sisters screaming for blood at the threat to your life. But your dad doesn’t move. The rage on his face is biblical.

“What will it be, Whitebeard?” Sengoku asks. Your eyes fix on him, on the harsh wrinkles and gray hairs, looking for any signs of humanity in the man in front of you. Sengoku is a man who cares about the greater good. He truly believes that ridding the world of Gol D Roger’s blood is a necessary evil. Does he understand what he’s saying? Does he care? “Will you kill your daughter and send countless numbers of your men to their deaths for a chance to help the spawn of the Devil? Or will you protect your child and allow Justice to eliminate a threat that never should have existed in the first place?”

Rage blooms in your veins, anger stronger than all the other emotions you’ve ever felt put together burning through you with every pulse of your heartbeat.

Ace crumbles completely, burying his face in his knees as his guilt and crippling self-hatred assault your Observation Haki. The roar of your family grows to a deafening volume. But your dad still doesn’t move.

You can see the agony on his face and your heart breaks for the utter devastation he’s suffering.

You know for a fact what he’ll choose.

You know with absolute certainty what him and Ace and every single one of your older brothers and sisters will choose. This is complete and total checkmate; the war is over before it even started. Because as much as they love Ace, you’re their baby sister and every one of them would die to protect you a thousand times over.

In fact, there’s only one person here who’d choose Ace over you.

You’re throwing yourself forward before anyone has a chance to make a horrible mistake, thrashing wildly against Akainu’s hold even as he effortlessly keeps you in place. He’s the Marine’s strongest Admiral and you’re just a little girl.

“YOU MONSTER!” you scream, looking Sengoku dead in the eyes while making sure to enunciate for the cameras. If he wants the world to see a show, you’ll give them one. “HOW DARE YOU?! NO PARENT SHOULD EVER HAVE TO CHOOSE BETWEEN THEIR CHILDREN!”

“ALEXANDRIA!” Your dad’s desperate shout reaches you from all the way across the bay. You steel yourself. This whole situation is your fault and no matter what happens next, you know what you have to do now.

You jerk forward again in Akainu’s unbreakable grip, sea stone chains clinking loudly, and snarl at Sengoku.

“YOU WANT SOMEONE TO CHOOSE? WELL GUESS WHAT?!” you take a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength you have before screaming, "I CHOOSE MY BROTHER, ACE!"

Then you coat your teeth in the strongest Armament Haki you can and bite Akainu’s hand hard enough to crunch through bone before throwing yourself backwards off the scaffold. And all hell breaks loose.

Chapter Text

“I don’t like it,” Yasopp repeats for the thousandth time. Beckman exhales, letting a stream of smoke curl up to the top of the bubble coating, and normally the crew is forbidden to smoke on the trip through Fishman Island but given the circumstances, Shanks is making a special exception for his First Mate. “They’re planning something!”

“I’m sure they are,” Beckmann agrees, “But we’ll deal with it when we get back.”

It’s not a stance Shanks usually takes when it comes to Kaido, but the King of the Beasts has the run of the New World right now. The Whitebeards are already in Paradise and all their territories are undefended. Shanks has been doing his best to defend their borders, but in the face of war, there’s going to be some unavoidable losses.

Big Mom and Kaido have a rare opportunity and Shanks knows better than to think they won’t try. But that’s not what’s bothering them.

The Red Hairs’ intelligence web is much looser than the expansive system that Haruta runs like a military, but even his sources have picked up on the Beast Pirates’ movements. Their forces are gathering, every vessel and ally under the Emperor’s command pulled to Wano on short notice.

They have no idea why. The claimed territories are virtually undefended; Kaido doesn’t need an army to take whatever he wants. At least Big Mom has been quiet—not that it’s easy to keep tabs on Linlin’s movements. There’s no sign of the Emperor or her Sweet Generals but the Big Mom pirates are playing defense on Totto Land’s borders. It’s a little surprising that she’s not trying to take advantage of the chaos, but it’s a wise choice in the face of all the unaffiliated crews that will treat the Emperors’ absences like a feeding frenzy.

At least their journey under the Red Line is going smoothly. Shanks tries his best to focus on the relative peace in preparation for the fight ahead, even as he readies his Conqueror’s Haki to take out anything that tries messing with the Red Force. They’re sailing into hell; Shanks has no illusions that everyone is going to make it out alive.

Newgate has no such illusions either. The Navy has his children, he’ll do whatever it takes to get them back.

Shanks takes a deep breath and tightens his hold on Gryphon to reassure himself with his sword’s weight. The ship can’t go any faster and they set out as soon as they could. They’ll make it in time.

They have to.

“I want you to tell them the name of your father.”

Sengoku’s voice reverberates through the bubble. Haruta set up the transponders to broadcast across the ship so the whole crew can hear what’s going on—Thatch understands the need for them all to stay informed the instant something happens, but he doesn’t want to hear this. It sickens him to his core; he’s the first to admit that he’s always been ruled by his emotions, but Thatch just can’t understand how the Marines can do something so evil and still think they’re in the right.

“The name of my father is Whitebeard.”

“Not true.”

“Yes it is! Whitebeard is my father! My only father!” Ace roars. Some of the men on deck cheer at the vow but Thatch only feels dread. He hasn’t heard Ace sound like that since before he joined the crew, somehow convinced that the only way his life would mean anything was if he took an Emperor’s head. They had all worked so hard to get through his walls and Ace was worth every minute of frustration and headache.

Thatch never wanted to hear Ace sound like that ever again—so defeated, so sure of his own worthlessness, so resigned to his fate. But the truth is plain as day in his brother’s voice. Ace doesn’t think anyone is coming for him.

The Moby is so close to the bay, and yet, Thatch feels like he’s on the other side of the world. His brother needs him, needs all of them, he needs to see how wrong he is and how much they love him and what they’re willing to do to save him.

“We launched a painstaking and exhaustive search for you around the time you were born,” Sengoku continues, ignoring Ace’s shout. The words make Thatch’s stomach sink like lead. Why the hell would the Navy be after a baby? Thatch glances over at Marco, who’s standing in the middle of the line of commanders, his jaw clenched as he stares out beyond the bubble as the Moby Dick prepares to surface.

There’s something about the way his brother is standing, the way he refuses to acknowledge Thatch’s eyes on him, the tight curl of his fists as the transponder snails continue to blast the Fleet Admiral’s voice that solidifies the churning feeling in his chest. Marco knows. Whatever this war is really about, Marco knows.

And he’s not the only one. Thatch closes his eyes and focuses as hard as he can, stretching out his Observation Haki until he can feel his captain’s presence just below the deck. His presence shifts at the touch, and for the briefest second, Thatch can feel every bit of his father’s grief. He thinks about all the plans they made over the last week, how even in the best case scenario, the Emperor is never on the Moby Dick as it sails off. For that second, Thatch just grieves with his father because this isn’t right, he’s not ready to lose the people he loves, but he knows in his gut that Pops has been expecting this since the moment the Marines got Ace in their clutches. And then it’s over, and his Haki is flooded with determination so powerful it takes his breath away at the same time that it makes his heart pound with adrenaline.

Trap or not, they’re here. They’re coming for Ace.

“The name of your father is Gold Roger! The King of the Pirates!” Sengoku announces. Thatch blinks hard enough to lose control of his Observation completely because oh. Yeah, okay. That would do it.

Explains a lot about Ace, actually. No wonder he was so prickly.

Most of the other commanders shake off the surprise just as quickly, but some of the crew on deck is still riding out the shock. Before Thatch can do anything, Marco turns. There’s a look in his eyes that’s pure emotion and even though it isn’t directed at him, it’s still enough to make Thatch’s mouth shut with a click.

“Ace is our brother,” Marco announces with enough authority to silence the entire ship as he glares out at the crowd, scanning across the faces of shocked pirates, daring someone to contradict him, “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

Silence reigns across the whole ship. It’s an incredible thing to watch the faces change as his brothers shake off their shock one by one and straighten, meeting the First Mate’s challenge with determination.

“We’re getting our commander back!”

“Yeah!”

“For commander Ace!”

Haruta’s snail rings suddenly, cutting off the round of rallying cries.

“We’re ready up here,” McGuy reports on behalf of the Allied Captains.

“Just waiting on your signal,” Doma adds.

The Moby Dick goes silent. It’s time.

“We’re in position,” Rakuyo confirms. There are three matching calls from the other two Moby’s and from the Little Pirates’ helmsman behind them all.

Marco steps forward and all eyes on deck land on him. The First Mate’s eyes scan across the crowd of pirates, taking in their family one last time before all hell breaks loose. When Marco’s eyes land on him, Thatch squares his shoulders and nods firmly.

“Do it,” Marco orders.

“Move in,” Haruta announces to the snails, just as Blamenco gives his signal for the shipmen to prepare to surface. The next few minutes are utter pandemonium as the Marines spot the Fleet sailing in and the first bubbles appear in the bay. It’s a complete whirlwind; one second, Thatch is bracing himself as the Moby Dick hurtles towards the surface, and the next, all their ships have surfaced and the coatings have popped, and the entirety of Marineford comes to a halt as Pops makes his grand entrance up the stairs.

Ace looks like hell. They haven’t been feeding him enough, and not just because Ace needs three times the amount of food as the next person. He also looks shocked to see them; his mouth is hanging open and his eyes are fixed on Pops like he can’t believe the man is really there.

“It’s been a while, Sengoku,” Pops announces, not an ounce of cheer in his voice. He stands tall, without any of the medical equipment or IV lines, and he makes for an imposing sight. Especially when he snarls out, “I’m here for my son.”

“Not so fast, Whitebeard,” Sengoku says. Thatch scans over the bay, taking in the line of giants behind the Warlords of the Sea, with somewhere near a hundred thousand troops in between them and the scaffold where Ace kneels in chains. The Admirals sit in chairs before the scaffold. The sight of them makes Thatch’s Observation go haywire—there’s only two of them. “We thought there was a chance you might show up. Which is why we came prepared.”

There have been a lot of moments in the last few months that have fought for the title of “worst moment of his life.”

Every single one of them pales in comparison to seeing Akainu step onto the execution platform, shoving a little girl in front of him. Thatch feels his heart come to a complete stop.

The bastard towers over her, his grip merciless as he pushes her into the limelight. It’s one thing to know that the Marines had her; it’s another thing entirely to see her like this.

It’s been nearly six months since Thatch last saw his baby sister. Every one of those months has been a unique blend of agony and torture, of frantically chasing cold leads and hoping against hope that they’ll find her before something horrible happens. And that was before Banaro, before they discovered the truth about that goddamn traitor who can go rot in hell.

This is the single worst moment of Thatch’s entire life. No competition. Because Allie is right there and she looks more terrified than she has in her entire life and there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help her. His Haki is useless in this moment—it’s flooded by the deafening roar of his siblings and their horror and anguish and he sees Ace thrashing in his chains.

That’s the first emotion he’s seen from Ace that isn’t despair.

Sengoku lays out his ultimatum.

“What will it be, Whitebeard? Will you kill your daughter and send countless numbers of your men to their deaths for a chance to help the spawn of the Devil? Or will you protect your child and allow Justice to eliminate a threat that never should have existed in the first place?”

The cruelty of it tears at Thatch’s chest but at the same time, it’s…

This is a trap. They’ve known it was a trap since the moment Marco discovered an empty ship and a frozen sea monster. But they’re here anyway. Even if there’s nothing they can do, Ace needed to see them come.

And as much as it kills him, part of him seizes onto Sengoku’s declaration, because they can’t save their brother but… Alexandria is going to live.  

He sees it mirrored on his siblings’ faces, the fury and helplessness and grim determination as the implications sink in. It’s not relief; after all, Pops still hasn’t made his choice.

That’s when he sees something.

All the way across the bay, his sister’s face changes. The feeling that crashes through him runs deeper than Observation Haki, deeper than any premonition, it’s just pure instinct and the fact that he knows exactly what that look means.

“Allie,” he breathes, and he’s never been religious, but the strange little island he spent his earliest years on was devoted in its monotheism and the habit is still ingrained somewhere deep within him. Especially in moments of pure terror. “Oh god, Allie, please, please don’t!”

But there’s no stopping her. His sister’s rage blasts across the battlefield, the scream of, “YOU MONSTER, HOW DARE YOU?!” is so loud it makes Thatch’s head ring, and he knows exactly what’s about to happen.

“Haruta—” Thatch says, his hand slapping out to the side to catch the other commander’s attention even as both of their gazes are fixed on the horrific scene unfolding in front of them, “Haruta!”

Haruta blinks hard and that’s all it takes for the strategist to pull himself together. He takes in the whole scene, and Thatch can feel the gears spinning as his brother flips through a hundred plans in the span of an instant and starts picking.

“Oars, get the boats!” Haruta yells, and Thatch can’t feel anything except his own heart pounding away inside his chest. His swords are clenched in each hand. “Advance eleven, rear guard, three on the bay and aerial support!”

“Aye!” their brothers call back, every one of them caught up in the horror show in front of them because they can’t move yet, not until the choice is made.  

While Haruta frantically doles out orders, Thatch can only stare at the scaffold. There are two things that could happen. One, Allie pulls out a miracle and gives them a chance. And two, Thatch is about to watch his little sister die.

“ALEXANDRIA!” Pops shouts, his voice pure agony, and Thatch understands that their father hasn’t heard a word of their plans. He can’t—

Allie doesn’t look afraid. There’s nothing but raw fury on her face, and she snarls at Sengoku like she doesn’t have Admiral Akainu bearing down on her, her voice raging across Marineford like it’s her own personal stage.

“I CHOOSE MY BROTHER, ACE!”

Thatch stops breathing.

No.

NO.

NO!!!!

Akainu roars, a guttural roar and Thatch has never heard fury in its purest form until this moment. Bright red blood spills on the scaffold.

And Allie disappears over the side.

“OARS, NOW!” Haruta screams. Thatch throws himself forward, Izou and Jiru at his sides along with the other commanders, landing with a thud on the little boat. There’s not a second to steady himself, Little Oars Jr. is already shoving the boat through the water towards the bay.

In your real life, you never liked heights. And then you were a baby, being raised by a literal giant and you learned something very important about your new family.

They would never let you fall.

After that, heights were nothing to be afraid of.

As you fall off the scaffold, the chain links attached to your cuffs clinking and clattering the whole way down, you have a couple seconds to think.

Nobody’s going to catch you.

Even with Marco’s speed, he’ll never be able to cross the bay in time.

But that’s okay.

You’re not afraid.

You can hear the sounds of battle breaking out; the war started the instant Akainu’s roar of agony shattered the stalemate. The Whitebeards didn’t waste a single second when you gave them an opening.

That’s something, right? The War of the Best and you drew first blood. On an Admiral, no less!

The ground is fast approaching and you brace yourself, trying to summon enough Haki to coat your back and break your fall without breaking your spine in the process, but you have a sudden flash of Observation that makes you drop the Haki completely.

You’re right in a way. The Whitebeards don’t catch you.

Sabo does.

He doesn’t catch you so much as he tackles you out of the sky and the impact knocks the wind out of you. It’s still infinitely better than smashing your head open so you have absolutely no complaints.

“Are you hurt?” Sabo asks. Sometime in between saving you and asking you that, you’ve both gotten a little bit of distance from the scaffold and you’re back on your own two feet.

Distantly, you process the question and shake your head.

“Good. We have to move.”

“Why?” you ask before you realize that that’s an incredibly stupid question. You’re in the middle of a war and you’re deep into enemy lines and that fall definitely scrambled your brain more than you thought. “Oh.”

The first wave of Marines notices you and Sabo swings his pipe—where did he get that? He wasn’t holding it a second ago?—right into the sword that was aiming for your head.

“Yeah, oh! Run!”

You take off. A few seconds later, you realize that you should start running. Abstractedly, you give your brain an A for effort and a C-plus for execution. The cuffs pulling at your wrists are as distracting as they are annoying and you really need these things off.

Looking at this purely by the numbers, there are a hundred thousand Marines between you and the Moby Dick. You’re never going to make it.

And then Sabo swings his pipe and knocks an entire row of Marines off their feet and you remember that all the weakest fighters are in the back of the formation. It’s the two of you against an overwhelming number of enemies but you’re not dead yet.

So you do the only thing you can and do your best to watch Sabo’s back as he clears a path for you two towards the bay.

The only advantage is that with the Whitebeards charging in from the front, all the strongest fighters that might be able to swoop in and kill you in an instant are too busy to come after you.

But at this point you’re too busy ducking and dodging and using your cuffed hands as a blunt instrument to do much more thinking. You lose track of time, of where you are, of everything except the sight of Sabo’s back as the two of you slowly cross the battlefield. All you know is that you’re still surrounded and you’re nowhere near the other side. And that it is so fucking loud, why can’t the war be a little quieter?

Your Observation Haki blares a warning that puts everything else to shame, and an instant later, the world is ablaze with white light. Lightning splits the sky and the crack of thunder that follows it makes your ears ring.

For a second, you think Dragon showed up.

Then the ground all across Marineford shifts and bubbles, little white bulbs bursting up all over the place, and it takes you a second to realize that the sudden brightness is the reflection of sunlight off a thousand mirrors sticking out of pillars of mochi.

One of the mirrors pops up out of the ground right in front of you. Sabo reacts first, yanking you behind him, but you’re the one who notices the reflection that belongs to no person present. Your eyes widen.

Sure enough, a few seconds later a new face appears and a bony hand extends out of the mirror.

“Take my hand!” Brulee orders.

You laugh in utter shock because this is the last thing you expected, and you immediately grab Sabo’s hand and yank him with you as you let yourself be pulled into the mirror realm.

There’s barely a single moment between when Haruta orders, “OARS! THE BOATS, NOW!” and when the majority of the Commanders are propelled by their giant brother towards the bay. Kingdew forces himself to stand strong by Pops’ side, a bastion of strength in the face of the Navy’s might, even as every fiber of his being screams for him to join the charge.

He’s never felt hatred like this in his entire life the way he feels watching that bastard Admiral shove his sister onto the scaffold, a weapon more dangerous than any gun held to her head. The Marines have always been cowards but he never imagined, not in any of his worst nightmares, that they were capable of such despicable cruelty. He wants to rip the bastard’s head off with his own two hands, to make him regret ever laying a finger on his precious sister, he wants to show the damn Navy the true might of the Whitebeard pirates. The first boat has reached the bay and Jiru leads the charge as the Commanders make first landfall and Kingdew despises that he isn’t among their number.

But he knows the plan. Every single version of every plan they had and he knows his role is every bit as important as theirs—his brothers will get to Lexie in time. They will get her back to the ship. And when she does, Kingdew will keep her safe. He and Jozu have the best defensive capabilities of anyone on the crew and the Moby is a massive target, all their efforts to save their siblings won’t mean anything if they let the ship sink.

That knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to watch Lexie disappear over the side of the accursed scaffold, standing helplessly at Pops’ side as the rest of his brothers charge. There’s a flash of light, brilliant yellow that lights up the entire world, and Kingdew looks up in time to see Marco change course in midair, little more than a streak of blue fire.

The explosion of light rocks the Moby, Marco’s heel slammed into Kizaru’s outstretched arm, the two of them suspended in the air far above Marineford. He hears gasps and murmurs from the assembled Marines, the rank-and-file staring in awe at the display of pure might.

“That’s the last of them, Pops!” one of the lookouts shouts down from the closest crow’s nest, his telescope fixed on the bay where Little Oars Jr. is lifting the remaining boats out of the water and setting them down on Marineford’s dock, sending front-line Marines scattering as pirates rain down from above.

With their brothers out of the water, Pops raises his hands.

Kingdew braces himself as the ocean churns beneath him, practiced at riding out these storms, before Pops grabs the air and—

The entire world turns white and a thousand cannons go off at the same time. Lighting and thunder, their power magnified to be unrecognizable. Marines scream as the very ground electrifies, the shockwave sending them flying by the hundreds. Kingdew’s vision has only just started to clear when he sees something white flood along the ground like a dam breaking, spreading from one side of Marineford and turning the very ground under the Marines’ feet white. Pillars grow out of nothing, tiny bits of light flashing through the air until it’s hard to see straight.

“MAMAMAMA!” an entirely too-familiar and completely unwelcome laugh echoes through the air. Kingdew feels the blood drain out of his face at the scene from his worst nightmares; Big Mom illuminated by the living fireball at her back, descending from the sky atop her thundercloud—who’s still crackling with the aftershocks of the massive thunderbolt—cackling her head off as she holds her sword aloft. Kingdew understands suddenly just how foolish he was to think this war couldn’t get any worse.

It's one thing to fight the entire Navy.

Now they have a rival Emperor to contend with too?!

Kingdew lowers himself to a fighting stance, preparing his Haki to shield his father with his own body if that’s what it takes.

“Linlin!” Pops snarls, the first beads of sweat appearing on his face as he fights to keep hold over his power, the sea quake still building in intensity with every second it stays leashed.

“Big Mom?!” Sengoku’s shock echoes over the battlefield, which is starting to pick up as the Whitebeards resume their charge and the Marines collect themselves. Those pillars aren’t attacking, they stand still where they sprung up and Kingdew doesn’t trust it for a second. The Fleet Admiral collects himself quickly and rages, “You have no business here!”

“No business here?” Big Mom pretends to gasp, clutching at her neckline like a string of pearls, “This is a battle to determine that fate of piracy itself, what more of an invitation could I possibly need?”

Pops grits his teeth and snarls up at her, and if looks could kill, the Emperor would be dead where she stands.

“If you think you can take me out this easily, I swear to Davy Jones, you won’t live to regret it!”

“Now, now! Is that any way to talk to your old crewmate?” Big Mom tuts, “And after I’ve come all this way to offer you my help?”

“What?!”

“You’re lying!” Kingdew snarls, fists darkening with Haki.

“How rude!” Big Mom huffs, “At least Alexandria learned her manners, she was far more polite than this rabble when she asked for my help!”

Pops nearly loses control over the churning quake below the seas as he chokes out, “What did you just say?!”

“That daughter of yours is something special, Newgate,” Big Mom replies as her cloud carries her low enough to finally be face-to-face with Pops, far above Kingdew’s head, “For the price she offered me, do you think I was just going to sit by the sidelines and hope she makes it out?”

“Where the hell is my daughter?!”

“She’s safe,” Big Mom answers truthfully, and despite the threat behind it, part of Kingdew’s chest loosens even as he bristles with outrage. Big Mom at least wants Lexie alive. “Believe me or don’t, but I only want what I’ve been offered. We have a common enemy here, Newgate. The Navy’s been getting too big for their britches, it’s past time to teach them what it means to pick a fight with pirates.”

“Just stay out of my way,” Pops snarls.

“Oh please, old man, do you really think you can keep up?!” Big Mom taunts. Pops turns his attention back to the battle field and his grips tighten. His fists finally twist and the ocean roars, the massive sea quake unleashed in full force.

Ace should really be numb to this right now. His time in Impel Down was pure hell, chained up with his injuries left untreated, nothing to do but think about how badly he fucked up. But he was wrong. Even Jimbei joining him in his cell, heart heavy with the news that Alexandria had never made it to Sabaody, that wasn’t pure hell. Finding out that Luffy had somehow broken into Impel Down and was charging headfirst towards his death… okay, that was hell too.

Nothing in the world could prepare him for the feeling of watching that bastard Akainu step onto the execution platform, shoving Ace’s little sister forward with a death grip on her shoulder. He forgets how to be human, snarling and shouting and raging against the sea stone chains like a feral animal.

The sight of her burns into his mind; arms trembling in the sea stone cuffs around her wrists but her shoulders are set with determination even though they’re close enough together that Ace can feel her terror through his muted Haki. He knows the sight of his little sister on the verge of tears instinctively, feels the murderous rage well up from that alone, but she forces them back through sheer strength of will as she bravely stares down an army of a hundred thousand.

When the proclamation comes, Sengoku’s announcement that only one of them of them will make it off the platform alive, it’s a relief. Ace finally has an answer to the question he’s been searching for his whole life.

His life will be worth something if his death saves her.

He doesn’t even have a chance to open his mouth to tell Pops and the rest of his family that the choice is an easy one. Alex beats him to it.

She screams, somehow angling herself towards to transponders so that her voice bellows across Marineford and echoes over the bay, calling Sengoku a monster, claiming Ace as her equal in their father’s eyes.

And then the words he knew he’d never hear. The words he’d spent his entire life waiting for.

“I CHOOSE MY BROTHER, ACE!”

It happens too fast to follow. Akainu roars in agony and blood spills on the execution platform. All Ace sees is a flash of hair as Alex disappears over the side of the platform.

The shock of it is electricity under his skin. His heart pounds so hard it hurts, his chest so tight it’s crushing his lungs, and his head so dizzy that the world in front of him is nothing but a blur.

She chose him.

Their family is already advancing, the war beginning in earnest, and Ace knows they’re coming for him. He might survive. All he wants is to survive, to grab his sister tight and demand to know how she could pick him, why his life means so much to her she’d risk her own to protect it. But his brain finally catches up and he throws himself forward as far as the chain will allow, desperate to find where she landed. She’s not a logia, not made of rubber, she’s just flesh and blood and a fall like that could kill her and she can’t die now, not like this!

He can’t see what happens next. He can only hear the bastard behind him, screaming in rage and surprise and pain as medics flock to the stand. All he can do is lean forward as far as his chains will allow and frantically search the crowd for his sister.

Ace finally catches sight of her. She’s on her feet and fighting through the throng. And she’s not alone. That’s when lightning strikes.

The flash of lightning blinds him and when his eyes clear, the ground all across Marineford bubbles up with white pillars.

Ace watches in shock as Alex and her friend—the one in coattails and a top hat and carrying… carrying… her friend is carrying a pipe. Dressed like a nobleman. As the two of them disappear into the mirror, he catches sight of blond hair and his heart seizes.

It can’t be.

‘Oh, by the way,’ her voice echoes in his head, ‘Sabo is alive.’

It can’t be.

Sabo can’t be alive. And even if he is, he can’t be here, at Ace’s execution, saving their sister from certain death.

Ace looks helplessly at Gramps; the old man’s fists are clenched tightly and pressing against his knees, his head bowed and his shoulders tensed.

Before he can even begin to figure out what’s going on, Sengoku begins to ring. No, not Sengoku, the snail he pulls out of his coat. Ace assumes it’s one of the Marines calling back about the trap they’re about to spring but he’s hit with a sudden wave of fury from whoever’s calling, so strong that Ace is thrown back to the limit of his chains.

“Sengoku, you imbecile!” the voice snarls over the other end, full of rage, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

“Sir, I don’t—” Sengoku doesn’t get any farther than that.

“The girl!” the voice interrupts and Ace’s heart stops again, “You will retrieve her at any cost! She will be brought to us alive or it will be your head! Am I understood?!”

“Yes sir,” Sengoku says immediately, but his eyes are wide and Garp looks over at him and Ace sees bewilderment pass between the two old men.

“Cipher Pol has already been dispatched. Failure is not an acceptable outcome.”

“Gramps!” Ace hisses under his breath as Sengoku collects himself and reaches for the broadcasting snail to announce the new orders. The only people who can order the Fleet Admiral around like that are the Five Elders, what the fuck do those shitheads want with Ace’s sister?! “What the hell was that?!”

“I don’t know,” Gramps answers, his eyes fixed on the battle unfolding in front of them, “but it’s nothing good.”

Brulee looks even more like a witch than in the show, with twiggy purple hair and a long, dark cloak, but you don’t let that stop you from springing forward and wrapping her in a hug as best as you can with your hands cuffed together.

“Big sis!” you cry happily, because if there’s one thing you know about One Piece, it’s that its characters have literally zero defense against being claimed as an older sibling. Brulee looks down at you in shock, but sure enough, her bony hands rise up to give you a proper hug.

“The Big Mom pirates?” Sabo asks in shock, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Mama’s orders,” Brulee explains, choosing not to question why you dragged a Revolutionary along with you. She finally pulls back and looks down at you. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, choosing to ignore Akainu’s blood caked all over your face and mouth. You raise your hands to show the sea stone still cuffed to your wrist.

“Just this,” you say. Brulee and Sabo both frown as they see how swollen everything is; the Marines gave you some basic first aid but it wasn’t enough to change the fact that your wrist is still fucked up and very broken.

“We can’t get those off yet,” Brulee apologizes, “But you’ll be safe in here until everything is over.”

Sabo processes all of this remarkably well considering. You’re rolling with it, but only because at this point it’s really the only option, and also because Big Mom sort of told you she was going to come? Or at least you kind of knew it was in the realm of possibility. Whatever. You’re so spaced out you miss multiple minutes of Sabo strategizing with the Big Mom pirates inside the mirror realm with you.

“Will you stay with her? I have to get back out there.”

“Sabo, wait!” you stop him before he can head straight for the nearest mirror and charge headfirst into the fighting, “Hancock has the key. She’s saving it for Luffy. But Kizaru’s going to try and shoot it out of his hand, if that happens, find Galdino. He’s the guy with the big three on his head. He can make another.”

Sabo doesn’t even try to ask how you know any of that or what you’re talking about in the first place. Instead he just nods and says, “Got it.”

He turns towards the mirror and steps towards it, reaching out to take Brulee’s hand so she can send him through.

Sabo tenses before you do. Something shaves into existence and Sabo’s pipe catches them across the face, sending them flying backwards.

There’s a hole in the air. A door-shaped hole, with strange green energy swirling inside it, and some people dressed in all white while others wear all black.

“Cipher Pol,” Sabo curses.

“Cipher Pol?!”

The woman in front steps forward. She’s in a short white dress with white gloves and a decorative fox pelt covering her face.

“The government isn’t interested in going to war with the Big Mom pirates,” Stussy of Cipher Pol Zero says serenely as she adjusts her glove. Her gaze shifts over to Sabo and she hums in amusement, “Hand over the girl and we’ll leave you in peace. We’ll even overlook the Revolutionary.”

Oh fuck.

Of course they’re after you.

“Fuck! Alex, run!” Sabo orders. You grab Brulee’s hand and take off.

Chapter Text

His instincts know what’s coming before he does, Luffy thinks as the glob of deadly poison comes flying at him, trust them.

It’s like that fight with Enel. Luffy has never fought an enemy this unbeatable—to even touch him will mean certain death—but this bastard is standing between him and Ace and Luffy won’t lose. He stops thinking completely and lets his instincts take over.

Gear 2 blasts him out of the way, the poison splattering against the wall behind him with a red-hot hiss, and in the instant between when Magellan turns and raises his hands for the next blow, Luffy sees an opening.

Lesson five. He can do anything with enough willpower.

Luffy grabs every last bit of his will, every part of his being screaming “ACE, ACE, ACE!!!!” and slams his Haki-covered fist into Magellan’s exposed stomach. The warden flies backwards, slamming against the wall and choking on the force of the hit.

Behind him, the guards of Impel Down cry out in shock and he hears some of the prisoners calling out, “STRAW HAT! ARE YOU CRAZY?!”

Luffy lands on his feet and breathes hard as the Haki dissipates. He can’t hold it for long—even that much nearly wiped out the energy he has left—but it worked. The poison slid off his Armament like oil, and he doesn’t feel any of the world-shattering agony the poison man promised.

“You’re stronger than I expected, Straw Hat,” Magellan heaves himself back to his feet, and Luffy’s heart beats faster because he’s running out of stamina and just because he knows how to hit the Warden now doesn’t mean it’s going to be an easy fight, “I don’t know where you learned Haki, but it’s no matter. You’re not strong enough to defeat me.”

“SHUT UP!” Luffy roars because he’s sick of people telling him how weak he is, he’s here to save Ace and nothing is going to stop him!

The poison burns worse than he thought it would. It’s like his whole body is made of the worst kind of pain and he’s not even really awake anymore. There’s part of him that’s aware that he’s lying on something and there’s moving lights overhead, and it’s only thanks to the frozen chill permeating deep into his rubber bones that numbs the pain enough even for that much.

But there’s only room for two things in his entire head.

PAIN.

It hurts so bad. He hurts worse than he’s ever hurt in his life.

And the other, the only conscious thought he can still cling to even as a thousand poisons rip him to a million pieces, is that even with all his willpower, he’s too weak.

Luffy has to get stronger.

“So what gives, Straw Boy?!” Iva exclaims in his dramatic way as the warship sails through the water on the other side of those stupid gates, carrying them steadily along towards Marine Headquarters, “I thought you supposed to be a rookie, how can you have Haki already?”

“Oh this?” Luffy asks, holding up his fist as he summons all the Armament he can. It’s a lot easier now that he’s eaten, it was nice of the Marines to stock their ship with so much food, and he’s got his energy back for when they get to the real fight. He drops the Haki quickly. He needs all his strength to save Ace, “My sister taught me!”

“Oh your sister, how nice!” Iva nods, turning back.

“DRAGON HAS A DAUGHTER?!” Iva shouts, shock lifting him into the air.

“Huh? No, she’s Ace’s sister.”

“Ace’s sister? Then wouldn’t she also be your—” Iva repeats, his eyes suddenly going wide. Well, they were already pretty wide, now they’re open so far they’re probably going to pop out of his head, “Hold on a moment, you aren’t talking about Whitebeard’s daughter, are you?!”

“Yeah, her!”

Jimbei freezes.

“Alexandria taught you Haki?” the fishman demands in shock. Luffy frowns. There’s that name again! Why are they all calling her that? Luffy knows she told him her real name the first time they met, and it definitely wasn’t Alewassit or whatever.

Hmm. She was in disguise though. Maybe that was her mystery name.

Luffy isn’t stupid. Okay, so he didn’t know that his super awesome future crewmate was actually way too young to be out at sea by herself, but the rest of his crew didn’t either! And they’re usually the ones who figure that kind of stuff out!

What he does know is that his little sister is strong and brave and tough and that whatever she was trying to do, all of it was to protect her family. He remembers the look on her face when she showed them that bracelet, her family is her treasure. Even if Ace wasn’t part of her family, that alone would be enough to make the Whitebeards important to Luffy too.

Luffy thinks about how badly she wanted to prove she could do it on her own, the look in her eyes when she told him she didn’t want help. He doesn’t blame her for running away when her dad won’t let her fight—it makes no sense. She’s crazy strong! She was crazy strong even before he found out how much younger she is than him.

Ace said her name was Alex, right? He wouldn’t get her name wrong. Ugh, it still sounds weird.

“Yeah! She taught me and Zoro, and Sanji learned some too,” he tells Jimbei. It’s a mistake to talk about his friends though, his chest gets all tight and out on the open seas, he can’t blame it on the stifling heat of the prison.

“Where did you meet her?! When was this?!”

“Oh, it was back when she was sailing with us,” Luffy explains casually, “Why? You know her too?”

Jimbei’s expression darkens, his grip of the steering wheel tightening until the wood creaks.

“Alexandria is my niece,” Jimbei says roughly and it’s pretty obvious he’s worried about her. Luffy pats his new friend on the arm.

“She’s super tough!” Luffy tells him encouragingly.

“I’m curious to meet this Xandy girl!” Ivankov exclaims, clapping his hands together, “Seems she’s caused quite a stir across all the seas, a girl after my own heart!”

“She’s awesome!” Luffy agrees, throwing his arms up in the air, “And next time I see her, she’s gonna join my crew for sure!”

“She is NOT awesome!” Biggy howls as he stomps a foot hard on the deck and points an accusing finger at Luffy, “That brat nearly got me killed! She’s the whole reason I ended up in Impel Down in the first place!”

“Alexandria is not a brat!” Jimbei shouts. Luffy hasn’t seen him get angry like this about anything.

He doesn’t get to see Jimbei get really angry, because that’s when the whole sea turns around. Luffy’s never seen anything like it but the ocean changes course suddenly and instead of racing towards the battle, the warship starts sailing backwards.

“What’s going on?!”

“Why aren’t we moving?!”

“It’s the old man’s powers!” Jimbei warns them, all business as he grabs the helm and yanks the ship hard to the left to align them with something, “Brace yourselves!”

Luffy finds out what they’re supposed to be bracing themselves for when the ship suddenly lurches forward, and then they’re not just going forward, but the entire warship is speeding up, building more and more speed until the wind hurts as it tugs at his rubber cheeks.

“It’s a tsunami!” one of the escapees yells, and that sets them off yelling in terror. Luffy turns around to see what they’re yelling at and his jaw drops so far it hits the deck because that wave is as tall as the Knock-Up Stream and it’s coming right at them.

“We have to ride it out!” Jimbei shouts over the noise, “Hang on to something!”

If Luffy was with his crew, (stupid Bear guy!!!!) the massive wave would make him laugh with glee and excitement. His crew is the best and they’d never let something like the biggest wave in the universe end their adventure! But his crew isn’t here and there’s nothing Luffy can do right now, so all he can do is cling to the mast next to Bigsy (who’s screaming along with Luffy and mashing his big red nose into the wood as hard as he can) and hope the Fishman can get them out of this!

The entire ship hangs on for dear life, screaming the entire way as Jimbei somehow sails them all the way up the tsunami until they’re riding the crest of the wave and they’re so high up that the air is hard to breathe and the warship is still hurtling forward so fast he can’t see anything over the railing except for blue sky and clouds.

And just as suddenly as it started, the ship stops. Stops completely.

Luffy blinks.

How could they stop? Are they on the ground?

“Aokiji,” Crocodile growls. He’s already over by the railing, glaring in disgust at the ice surrounding them. It’s cold and Luffy gets madder just hearing that name. That’s the bastard that froze him and tried killing Robin!!!

Luffy looks around and sees the entire tsunami frozen solid and that the ship is frozen in place in the ice. When he cranes his neck farther, he can see tiny shapes down below.

“Is that?”

“Marineford,” Iva confirms with a nod of his gigantic head, “The only question now is how we’re going to get down there.”

“It’s not going to be easy! We’re iced in, it’s going to be difficult to get the ship free at all.”

The ship is stuck. And they’re at the top of the ice wave, which isn’t going to melt anytime soon thanks to that stupid Marine and his ice powers. Luffy scowls, studying the frozen wave they’re trapped in and trying to figure out how they’re going to get out of it.

Ace is down there and they only have a few hours left until the execution. There’s no time to waste!

That’s when things get worse. The transponder snail that tried threatening them with the stupid gates not letting them out of the mystery current rings again, but this time, it doesn’t wait for anyone to pick up. Luffy doesn’t recognize the voice but it sounds a lot deeper and angrier than the last guy.

“Attention all soldiers! Edward Alexandria is to be captured alive at all costs! Cipher Pol has been dispatched, you will assist them in any way necessary.”

What?

No, that can’t be right. It can’t be! Alex can’t be here, he’s here to save Ace! Alex can’t be in trouble too!

“She’s here?!” Jimbei chokes on his own shock, but the snail isn’t done talking.

“In addition, all ships are to move to formation 192, once all units are in place, we will proceed with the immediate execution of Fire Fist Ace.”

Luffy’s eyes fly open and he nearly charges over the side of the ship in his hurry to peer over the side. The battlefield is far below and everything is too small to see but things were bad enough and now they’re moving Ace’s execution and Alex might be down there too?

“We have to get down there right now!” Luffy shouts, leaning over the railing as far as he can to see how the ship is stuck. The whole wave is frozen solid and the ship is iced in.

Ice reminds him of the cherry blossoms on the snowy island where he met Chopper. Luffy chased his reindeer friend for hours, slipping and sliding over the ice as he followed him all over the place. If Luffy slid around like that, the ship should be able slide over the ice too.

“I have an idea!” Luffy announces, “If we can wiggle the ship free, we can ride the wave all the way down to the sea!”

“THAT’S YOUR PLAN?!”

“We don’t have time to argue!” Jimbei shouts. He jumps over the side of the railing and Luffy springs after him, hearing Crocodile and Bogo muttering to themselves while Ivankov hurries to do the same, “We need to get down there immediately!”

Luffy couldn’t agree more. The stupid navy is going to kill Ace any second, and Jimbei thinks Alex is down there too, and if Luffy doesn’t get down there this second, he might be too late. Ace isn’t the only one who needs him; his sister is in trouble too.

He won’t lose them both.

He won’t.

It’s not going to happen.

Thatch has only one thought in his mind. Get to Allie.

His swords are already stained with blood and he and the other commanders have only barely touched down around Marineford. Marines swarmed the instant they made landfall and he doesn’t hold anything back—there’s no mercy for the weakling Marines that think they’re strong enough to challenge him, no respect between swordsmen for the stronger ones he crosses blades with. He’s a pirate and his sister is in danger and if there’s ever a time to fight dirty, this is it.

With Haruta at his side and Namur tearing up Marines at their back, the commanders cut through the sea of soldiers. Every so often, Rakuyo’s flail whips into his sightline as he slams it through their enemies, and the clanking of the chains assures him the rest of his brothers are right behind.

He hears the lookout give Pops the all-clear over Haruta’s mini transponder and all he has time to do is brace himself; the quake will only work to their advantage while the inexperienced Navy falls over themselves.

Allie’s presence is the tiniest beacon of light in his overwhelmed Haki and Thatch charges straight towards it. He doesn’t know how she landed but he knows she made it off the scaffold in one piece and she’s somewhere off to the right side of the battlefield.

Thatch doesn’t let himself think about how far away she is or the uncountable number of Marines are between them. He cuts and slashes and blocks sword strikes and dodges bullets and kicks soldiers’ legs out from under them when they’re stupid enough to overbalance their weight. There’s flashes of light overhead, blinding yellow light he recognizes from Haruta’s briefings as Kizaru’s power, and Marco’s phoenix form leaves a streak of blue flames in the sky overhead as he races to meet the Admiral’s attack.

“What’s going on?!” Jiru calls backwards suddenly, casting a look behind them all to where the Moby Dick towers overhead. “Why hasn’t Pops attacked yet?”

A rear admiral swings his sword down at Thatch’s head and he swings both his swords up to catch the blow in the cross where his blade meet.

“Pirate scum!” the Marine snarls at him and Thatch takes advantage of the Marine’s distraction to introduce the heel of his boot to the man’s prized family jewels. He leaves the poor bastard where he falls and charges ahead.

“I don’t know,” Namur calls back, “Did the plan change?!”

Before any of them have a chance to answers, Thatch’s Observation Haki goes absolutely haywire. All his hairs stand on end, from the hairs on his arm to the back of his neck, he swears that even his pompadour raises up a little higher.

It’s so jarring that he nearly misses the counterstrike and the blade of his latest enemy slices a gash along his sleeve. He pulls back in time so the blade only skims the top layer of his skin, but it’s a potent reminder about the price of getting distracted.

KA-BOOM!

The loudest thunderstrike he’s ever heard in his life crashes down at the same instant that the entire world lights up in blinding white. Thatch throws his arms up, instinctively protecting his head and chest as the entire battlefield shakes with it.

The ground under his feet crackles with electricity and it sparks along his arms and blades and he’s never in his life been so grateful for the thick soles of his boots. Namur isn’t so lucky, jerking back as electricity zaps him and along with thousands of other fighters near the head of the bay. Thatch’s heart lurches as his brother drops, but Blamenco and Atmos are already helping the Fishman back to his feet. Namur is a commander, he’s too tough to fall so easily.

The battlefield is stunned into silence after the attack and Thatch is just about to keep charging ahead when he hears the laughter. His heart plummets all the way down into his stomach as his eyes fly open—at his back, he hears Izou’s gasp and Haruta’s shocked, “no fucking way.”

It is the very last person Thatch ever wanted to see.

“MAMAMAMAMAMA!” Big Mom cackles as she descends from the heavens, surrounded by her most powerful homies.

“Holy crap!”

“This can’t be happening!”

“Is that Big Mom?!”

“What the hell is she doing here?!”

“What do we do?!”

“Keep going!” Haruta shouts, and Thatch doesn’t need to be told twice, “Whatever she wants, it doesn’t matter! We have to get to Lexie first!”

The commanders resume their charge and Thatch points his blade at an opening between the legion of giants. They’re all distracted by the new arrival (not that Thatch blames them) and there’s a space to get past their defensive line.

“Big Mom?! You have no business here!” the Fleet Admiral roars over the loudspeakers, his furious voice flooding the battlefield. Thatch’s Haki blares again and he jumps back as a wave of something white and lumpy unfurls across the ground. He swings out his blades to decapitate the sprout that tries to shoot up where he’s standing, but his sword only gets caught in the sticky substance.

“What the hell is this?!” Vista shouts in alarm.

“It’s mochi!” Thatch yells back, coating his blades in Haki and sweeping them out in an arc to slice them free of the trap. All across the battlefield, pillars of mochi shoot up out of the ground, towering over the average soldiers and turning the already crowded battlefield into a veritable maze. Everywhere Thatch turns, he finds himself face to face with himself. And the reflection of a hundred thousand marines in the thousands of shards of mirrors sticking out of them.

“Dammit, it’s Katakuri!” Haruta swears, his sword toppling two pillars at the same time, “Stay in pairs, don’t let those bastards sneak up on you!”

Thatch immediately steps closer to Izou, the rest of the commanders pairing up immediately. The Big Mom pirates are one hell of an unwelcome surprise, as if they don’t have enough enemies to deal with. He’s tense, his Observation Haki practically buzzing at the fact that one of Big Mom’s Sweet Generals has the entire battlefield surrounded, and if that wasn’t enough, Big Mom herself is advancing on Pops.

Izou tenses suddenly.

“Lexie!” the sniper gasps, and the word is enough to make Thatch’s heart stop. He wrestles his overwhelmed Haki back under control and reaches out for his sister, that tiny pinprick that’s their guiding light in this mess, and it’s…

No, it’s not gone. It’s still there, he can feel her, but there’s something off about it. Her entire presence is fuzzy. He’s never felt anything like it before.

“WHERE’D LITTLE LITTLE GO?!” Little Oars Jr. suddenly roars in sheer fury, the colossal giant’s voice ringing out above all the other noise, and Thatch’s chest twinges in sympathy for his massive brother’s panic at losing their sister. Panic he empathizes with completely.

“The mirrors!” Rakuyo curses. His flail slams into an attacking Marine with a zoan transformation that looks like a rhino with more legs. The extra limbs aren’t enough to withstand the direct hit. “They took her into the mirror!”

“What?!”

“They have that power?!”

“Big Mom’s eighth daughter,” Haruta answers darkly, ducking the attack as a trio of Marines charge. Izou shoots one before he can take another swipe at their brother, while Blamenco sweeps the other two away with his massive hammer, “That’s what the pillars are for.”

“So how do we get her out?!”

Before anyone can answer, Thatch’s Observation pulses again. This time, it’s familiar. He plants his feet and bends his knees, riding out the quake through decades of experience as Pops’ attack finally hits. All of Marineford trembles as the ground itself splits and shifts underneath their feet, Marines shout and scramble away and fall over themselves in a panic. It’s only the start, if the plan to freeze the bay doesn’t work, Thatch needs to be ready to swim. Namur and Blamenco are already paired to each other, he doesn’t need to worry about them if Marineford floods.

“Keep advancing!” Pops’ orders come across loud and clear, “Don’t give Linlin any mind, her brats won’t give you any trouble.”

“What about Lexie?! Big Mom has her in those mirrors!” Haruta yells back into the snail. It’s a huge reassurance that Pops confirmed Big Mom isn’t here to fight them. But there’s no part of him that’s comfortable leaving his sister in the hands of their rival crew.

Pops gives them a short answer. It’s only three words, but it’s plenty.

“Get her back.”

A giant boot drops out of the sky and nearly crushes him under the massive sole; it’s only Thatch’s Observation and reflexes that let him dodge out of the way in time.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” one of the Giant Marines glowers as he stares down from way above, his club swung over his shoulder menacingly.

“Behind you,” Thatch snaps, hefting his swords higher.

“Over my dead body!” the giant roars, hefting his club. The fury burning in Thatch’s heart is only matched by Izou’s ice-cold rage as the two of them square up.

“That can be arranged,” Izou hisses, cocking his pistols. The giant doesn’t care for that answer and brings his club down—Thatch dodges left as Izou throws himself to the right, firing at the giant’s eyes as Thatch’s blades aim for the weak points along his calf.

The giant roars as they each draw blood, not sure which of the two of them is the greater threat. Unfortunately, the bastard is a hell of a lot tougher than any of the Marines they’ve fought before, and even with Izou backing him up, they’re in for a hard fight. Thatch spares a brief second to look around and he sees the rest of the Commanders engaged in their own battles.

They’re not getting any farther unless they can make it past the giants. Which is a hell of a lot easier said than done.

In fact, it’s so hard that Thatch doesn’t even notice the warship falling out of the sky until it’s crashing through the weak spot in the ice left by Big Mom’s attack.

“There’s no time! Break the ice!”

“AAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“BREAK YOU STUPID ICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

…

“THAT’S THE WRONG SIDE!!!!!!!!!!!”

“WE’RE FALLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

“WE’RE GONNA DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Jimbei saves him from the icy waters of the ocean, depositing him carefully on the deck of the nearest intact ship, which looks like a giant whale. It’s not like Laboon though, Laboon wasn’t all white and stuff.

Luffy pushes himself up to his feet, running his hands along himself to check that he’s still alive. Yup, he’s good! They survived!

“DIE, WHITEBEARD!” Crocodile shouts, and all Luffy sees is the swirling of sands. Luckily, he’s already soaking wet, so he doesn’t have to do anything except drop into Second Gear to be able to punch Crocodile in his stupid face before he can slam his poisoned hook into…

Hmm.

There’s two people standing at the front of the ship; one old guy holding a sword at the end of a really huge stick, and another old guy with pink hair standing on top of a flying cloud.

“What the hell are you doing, Straw Hat?!” Crocodile snarls even as he takes in the water Luffy’s covered in and realizes that Luffy isn’t going to let him try that again, “The only reason I’m here is to kill Whitebeard! If you want to save your brother so badly, then stand aside!”

“No way!” Luffy shouts back, “Ace cares about him, so I'm not going to let you hurt him! You got that?!"

Crocodile knows he means it. He slinks off. Luffy doesn't care where he goes, only that he's not going to try again.

“Alright then!” Luffy shouts, slamming his fist into his palm at he looks up at the two old people in front of him, “Now which one of you is Whitebeard?!”

The old guy with pink hair makes a sound like they’re choking and the old man with the banana mustache just stares at him. All around him, the battlefield goes silent—wasn’t it crazy loud a couple seconds ago?

“Did he really just ask that?!” Ivankov gasps.

“Straw Hat, you moron!” Bugsy shouts.

“That would be me, brat,” the old man glares down at him.

Luffy nods firmly.

“That’s what I thought,” he says.

“Who the hell do you think you are, you miserable brat?!” the pink haired one shouts. It turns out she's a lady.

“I’m Monkey D Luffy!” Luffy shouts back, “And I’m gonna be the King of the Pirates!”

“MAMAMAMAMA!” the pink-haired one laughs. Nobody has laughed at Luffy’s dream like that since Mock Town and he hates this shitty lady for it. She better not be friends with Whitebeard, Luffy can’t imagine anyone Ace and Alex care about liking someone like her. “A weakling like you, King of the Pirates? Don’t make me laugh! I don’t have time to waste on small fries! The only reason I’m here is to get what I want! Persospero, Smoothie, are you ready yet?!”

“Not yet, Mama,” a woman answers over the snail sitting in the lady’s hand, “but it won’t be long now, and then we can proceed as planned.”

“What the hell are you doing, Linlin?!”

“Nothing that concerns you, Newgate,” Linny says as she holds up a dismissive hand that makes Luffy angry on the old guy’s behalf, “And there’s no need for you to waste your breath, Alexandria will tell you the same thing I did.”

With that, the giant cloud flies off, taking the shitty old lady far away.

“Dammit! Pops, what are we gonna do?!”

Luffy doesn’t see who asked the question, but he’s pretty sure something bad just happened. It doesn’t matter. Now that no one’s distracting him, he can focus on finding Ace. He scans across the battlefield, seeing ships fire cannonballs at each other in the distance, yellow and blue light blasting away in the sky, and pirates battling Marines everywhere else he looks. But there, all the way across the battlefield, he sees the scaffold. And the shape on top of it that he would recognize anywhere.

Ace.

He’s still alive. There’s still time.

“Keep going!” Whitebeard orders, “Wherever Linlin put her, find a way to get her back.”

“Got it, Pops!”

But there’s someone he doesn’t see.

“Where’s Alex?!” Luffy demands, stomping his heel against the deck and squaring his shoulders as he looks up at Whitebeard. Immediately, a look flashes over the old man’s face. Luffy knows immediately what it means. Someone hurt her. Someone hurt her and there was nothing her dad could do.

Anger sparks in his chest and it burns into determination.

She’s not dying today. Her or Ace.

“What does it matter to you?!” Whitebeard snarls. The challenge makes Luffy’s shoulders square up and he shouts back, “She’s my sister and my friend! So tell me where she is right now!”

There’s a long moment where Whitebeard and Luffy just glare at each other. It’s intense, the most intense glaring Luffy’s ever done, and he can feel the old man trying to size him up. But the harder he tries, the harder Luffy pushes back. The old man might be Alex’s dad and someone Ace cares about, but Luffy doesn’t answer to him or anyone else.

“She’s on the other side of this battlefield,” the old man answers, “She’s in terrible danger and my sons will not stop until she’s been retrieved safely.

Luffy knows an oath when he hears one. He looks down (by lowering his gaze a tiny bit, the old guy still towers overheard) and sees a bracelet tied around the giant wrist. It’s brown cloth with a little red jewel hanging off it.

It’s just like Alex’s bracelet.

“Okay,” Luffy nods firmly as he puts one hand on top of his hat, “You guys get Alex. I’m gonna save Ace.”

“You? What’s a punk like you going to do in a war like this? Do you have any idea what our forces are up against?!”

“SHUT UP!” Luffy shouts, because it’s one thing for him to put everything on the line for his daughter, but it’s another thing entirely to try telling Luffy what to do, “YOU DON’T KNOW ME! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING! I’M GOING TO BE THE ONE TO SAVE ACE, I DON’T CARE WHO TRIES TO STOP ME!”

The old man’s eyes met his again and this time, Luffy grits hit teeth and glares back as hard as he can. He’s saving Ace. End of story.

“Cheeky punk. Don’t come crying to me if you get any boo boos!” Alex’s dad huffs. He doesn’t mean it at all, Luffy knows it’s as close as he can get to saying thank you and be careful and he doesn’t care—he’s not doing this for Whitebeard.

“Yeah right! I’m not all old like you!” Luffy retorts, “And Alex is joining my crew, not yours!”

“STRAW HAT!” Ivankov gasps.

“Is that so?!” Whitebeard snarls as his eyes lock onto Luffy’s all over again. Luffy glares back, growling and glowering and gritting his teeth as he faces off against the old man and he’s tired of this now. Of course she is! She’s his friend and she wants to join him and she’s a dreamer too. She wants to help Luffy become the King of the Pirates.

“Yeah, it is!” Luffy shouts back, “She’s the coolest and she’s my friend, so I don’t care what you say!”

“You impudent brat!” Whitebeard yells like he’s angry, only he’s not. He slams the butt of his weapon into the deck and the Luffy digs his heels in so he doesn’t get blown around by the shockwave. “You survive this fight and we’ll see what my daughter has to say about that!!!”

Good.

It’s nobody’s business but him and Alex anyways.

With that, Luffy turns and hurtles over the side of the railing and down onto the ice below, shouting, “I’M COMING FOR YOU, ACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“The government isn’t interested in going to war with the Big Mom pirates,” Stussy of Cipher Pol Zero says serenely as she adjusts her glove. Her gaze shifts over to Sabo and she hums in amusement, “Hand over the girl and we’ll leave you in peace. We’ll even overlook the Revolutionary.”

Oh fuck.

Of course they’re after you.

“Fuck! Alex, run!” Sabo orders. You grab Brulee’s hand and take off running, yanking her along with you. She’s your only exit, if Cipher Pol catches her then you’re all trapped in here with Blueno’s Door Door Fruit as the only way out.

The Big Mom pirates and homies try their best to stall for time, but you’re all running as fast as you can and Cipher Pol is still gaining quickly. You scan all the mirrors you pass, looking for any exit point that won’t lead you directly into a kill zone, and instead you find something else.

Something much more dangerous, but also potentially better. Assuming you don’t die immediately.

“That one!” you order, pointing at the mirror you need, “Send me there!”

“You can’t be serious!” Brulee stammers. The homies surrounding her also look stunned.

“He’s the only one who can break them!” you shout as you hold up your hands.

“I’ll keep her safe!” Sabo shouts, “You bought us a lot of time, but they’re going to start smashing mirrors soon.”

At his words, a random mirror explodes into shards. Brulee winces.

“Don’t you dare let anything happen to her!” she orders, before grabbing each of you by the shoulder and thrusting you both through the mirror. Aw, Brulee. What a good big sister.

You have barely a second to catch your bearings as you land back in the physical world, but it’s enough to plant your feet and take a deep breath.

“Hey Mihawk!!!!!! Cut this!” you taunt, screaming as loud as you can. There’s a flash of interest in the swordsman’s eyes and he doesn’t hesitate to bring Yoru down on you. You set your stance and raise your Haki-coated arms, pulling the sea stone cuffs as far apart as you can to hold the chain taut. The flying slash reaches you and FUCK THAT HURTS, your wrists take the full brunt of his force.

In a feat of strength that only the Greatest Swordsman in the Entire World is capable of, one of the sea stone chain links shatters and your wrists are freed from each other. And sure, there’s some other details about taking a direct hit from the Strongest Swordsman in the world that you’re glossing over but the important thing is that your arms have full mobility and you’re still alive, so you’re just going to call it an absolute win and answer no further questions.

You look at Sabo and shout, “Book it!”

It’s a scientific fact that swinging your arms makes you run faster, and you set to work proving it.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” Sabo shouts at you as he slams a trio of Marines out of your path while you roll out your good wrist and breathe through the fire racing up your injured arm.

“Did you have a better idea?!” you shout back.

“Yes! Literally anything but that!”

“Okay, well next time, you can suggest that first!” you say as you duck under the muzzle of a bayonet and give an experimental swing with your uninjured fist, letting the sea stone chain lash out and whip the Marine straight between the eyes. He stiffens like a board and drops immediately with a dazed groan.

That settles it: you’re keeping these forever.

Here’s another thing about you.

When you were four, you had a bad fall. You landed on your hand and dislocated your thumb. It hurt and you cried a lot. What four-year-old wouldn’t? Your brothers were beside themselves because they only looked away for a second and you got injured. They wasted no time bringing you to Marco, who immediately healed you.

The thing is… that was the last thing you wanted. Because Marco’s Devil Fruit fixed you up good as new, and the entire point of dislocating your thumb when you were little was to make sure the joint would stay loose enough that you could do it on command if you ever needed to.

You learned your lesson that day. So about a year later, two weeks after Marco took his division off on a months-long mission, you got tangled up in a rope and managed to dislocate both your thumbs at the same time. It was not fun. You got in big trouble after the nurses were finished setting your hands in casts and it hurt the whole time they healed. Not to mention you didn’t have use of either of your hands. And it took another year after that before you were allowed anywhere near a rope.

But it worked. You could dislocate your thumbs and relocate them as many times as you wanted without any pain. At the time, you expected it to come in handy.

It has actually never come in handy. You put yourself through all of that for nothing.

…is what you would’ve said before today, because all you have to do is pop your thumbs out of the joint sockets and your wrists slide through the cuffs with ease. It barely even hurts that much to do it to your injured side.

Totally worth it!

You pop your thumbs back into place and then curl your fingers around each cuff to make yourself a pair of sea stone brass-knuckles, complete with a length of dangling chain that will instantly take any Devil Fruit user out of commission. Yes, you could have done it before, but having the chain split is infinitely more useful and less likely to get you grabbed.

It’s a crazy unfair advantage. Your Haki is strong enough to handle the majority of the Marines that come at you, and your improvised weapons take out any Devil Fruit users long enough for you to slip past them. It’s also the only reason you have any chance at all of making it through the swarm.

Marineford is a lot colder than it was before you went into the mirror, and between the deafening clashes of steel against steel and the towering ice walls that enclose the entire bay, not to mention the incredibly familiar shouts that somehow rise above all the other noise, you missed both the true start of the battle AND Luffy’s surprise appearance.

Which SUCKS because if you have to be in this hellscape then you at least deserve to watch the Marines cower in terror as a Warship carrying multiple present and future warlords and revolutionary giants and the future king of the pirates falls out of the sky. It’s so fucking unfair and you’re going to have words with somebody about this. You’re not sure who, but you’ll figure it out and then shout at them about how unfair that is.

Judging by the way he’s ranting and raving into the loudspeaker snails, Sengoku agrees with you about how much bullshit is going on right now. Especially as he shouts at the Marines near the head of the bay to strike Luffy down at all costs.

“Monkey D Luffy is the sworn brother of Portgas D Ace! Not only that, he’s the son of the World’s Worst Criminal, Dragon the Revolutionary!” Sengoku’s announcement is so loud it rattles your ears. You’re too busy fighting for your life at Sabo’s side to be able to do anything about it. You slam your sea-stone knuckles into a Marine’s face and wince at the sting, but there’s no time before the next one is already on top of you.

“And as for you, Buggy the Clown, it’s clear now why you would turn yourself in after hiding yourself away for so long in the East Blue, convincing the world you were no threat at all! Through your extensive network of spies, you discovered that your younger brother’s identity was about to be exposed and you acted decisively to protect him. Because the truth is, you were more than just a mere apprentice on the crew of the Pirate King. Your true name is Gold Buggy, and you are the eldest son of Gold Roger!”

“WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!”

The entire battlefield shouts at the same time, resulting in a soundwave unlike anything you’ve ever heard before.

Your jaw drops. The plan to give the Marines a fake Pirate Heir to convince them there was never a baby on Baterilla at all was a complete and total failure. You’re not sure how they found out about Ace, but they did.

So why the fuck did Sengoku just announce Buggy’s “true” heritage to the entire world. Surely, they figured out you made it all up, right?

For his part, Buggy looks every bit as shocked as everyone else. Up on the platform, you’re pretty sure that you can see Ace’s brain bluescreen and then do a hard reboot.

“AHHHH?!?! BINKY IS ACE’S BROTHER?!?!?!”

“IT’S BUGGY, YOU LITTLE MORON! AND NO, NO I’M NOT!”

“YOU’RE TOO LAME TO BE ACE’S BROTHER, NO YOU’RE NOT!”

“I JUST SAID I’M NOT, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?!?!?!?!”

“AHHHH, CAPTAIN BUGGY!!!!!” his adoring sycophants cheer in unison.

“CAPTAIN BUGGY WILL BE THE NEXT PIRATE KING, JUST LIKE HIS FATHER!!!!”

“BUGGY! BUGGY! BUGGY!”

All around you, the fighting has stopped completely as everyone stares up at the platform. You grab Sabo’s wrist and yank him along with your less fucked up arm, taking advantage of the shock to drag him through the crowd of frozen Marines before they get over the surprise.

“Is he really?” Sabo utters, just as shocked as all the rest of them at the thought that Buggy the Clown of all people could be biologically related to one of his two favorite brothers.

“With Oda, who fucking knows? He could be!” you shoot back.

‘Ace,’ you think to yourself as you glance back over your shoulder to see him staring at Buggy in numb horror mixed with the feeling of stepping in shaving cream mixed with grape jelly while wearing your favorite socks and as it squelches between your toes, all you can do is stop for a second and mourn the fact that, yeah, that’s not coming out. (Your brother was really an asshole when you both were younger. But to be fair, you gave as good as you got.) ‘I am so, so sorry.’

Then you look up to see Buggy wailing some version of, “WHY MEEEEE??????” and you add him to your mental apology. But he’s Buggy the Clown, the Universe’s Most Beloved Chew Toy, cloaked in plot armor the likes of which characters the world over can only dream of! He can only fail up.

He’ll be fine.

The shock doesn’t last for long, and even though you and Sabo gained a good bit of ground, there’s still a ridiculous number of Marines between you and the front line.

That and the fact that you’re pretty effectively splitting the Marines’ attention. You and Sabo are trying to get away from the platform, while Luffy and his entourage of famously dangerous pirates and criminals are actively fighting to get the Pirate King’s Son off the platform. Not to mention the hundreds of your brothers fighting with everything they have to break through the Marines’ lines. Between those groups, you’re the smallest threat.

Maybe there’s still hope.

Maybe.

Squard’s blood runs hot through his veins, pulsing with every furious beat of his heart.

“It’s you, you bastard!” he snarls, aiming his sword at the Marine’s chest. The bastard who dared lay a hand on his sister, standing right in front of him, a dead man on two legs. His arm is encased in a layer of cooled magma that cocoons his hand and Squard takes immense pleasure at the sight.

The bastard deserves every ounce of pain he earned, he hopes Alexandria ripped off a few fingers in her attack. Squard’s ship was further back with the rest of the Allied Captains, but it was still plenty close to live out the nightmare.

“Not so fast, Whitebeard,” Sengoku announces over the broadcasting snail, “We thought you might show up, so we came prepared.”

The bastard Akainu steps forward.

And…

Squard’s entire world stops.

He chokes on his own breath, gasping in horror at the sight in front of him. In that instant, nothing else matters. Not even the despicable secret hiding under his nose, that Ace is the son of the Devil himself.

She’s hurt.

Squard saw the tiny scrap of her vivre card himself.

And she’s up there on that scaffold, injured and chained and so terrified he can see it all the way across the bay.

He remembers the day he met his baby sister like it was yesterday. How could he forget one of the most important moments of his life? She was so small, so tiny and precious and utterly perfect, and when his father placed the baby in his arms, nothing else in the universe mattered. And when that sleepy infant looked up at him with grumpy little eyes that slowly warmed up to the softest, most precious little smile as she stared up at her big brother? He swore in that moment to protect her. To give his life for her.

“I’m not here to trade insults,” Akainu fumes—literally. Smoke rises off his shoulders and arms and the air is filled with the acrid smell of toxic fumes. “I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me?! HA!” Squard would laugh if he wasn’t so completely full of hatred and rage, “The only thing you can do for me is DIE!”

“Whitebeard knew about Fire Fist,” Akainu says before Squard has a chance to attack. The words hit and they hit hard. Squard can’t help the way he falters, or the way his sword dips as he stares at the Admiral in confusion.

“No, that’s—of course he didn’t!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Akinu snaps, “Of course he did. He wants Roger’s legacy for himself, that’s why he groomed Ace for a position of leadership so young. That’s why he made that deal with my superiors.”

He’s lying. The bastard has to be lying, there’s no way Pops would do that.

“Why should I believe a word you say?!”

“Because the idea of letting that criminal survive to spread his father’s vile legacy is abhorrent. And I’m disgusted that the Navy would ever make a deal with a pirate like Whitebeard.”

Squard shouts at the bastard to keep Pops’ name out of his mouth. He… he shouts it. Why… why can’t he make himself shout it? Why does he ask something else instead?

“…what deal.”

The truth is, that’s the only thing that comes out.

“Whitebeard made a deal with my superiors. Ace and his crew will live, while the Allied crews will be exterminated. And it’s all to ensure that Roger’s legacy lives on.”

“You’re lying. You’re lying! Pops didn’t hear anything from the Navy, there’s no way he—”

Squard cuts off mid-word. He thinks of that rally the day before, how Pops refused to share all his information until the very last day, the announcement that the Marines had laid a trap and he was willingly walking into it.

Maybe it wasn’t just a warning. Maybe it wasn’t just a lie. Maybe it was an apology. An empty apology, depriving them of the chance to willingly make their choices.

His grip on his sword is tight and the familiar weight of steel is the only thing grounding him in the depths of this betrayal. His own father. The man who gave him a reason to live, a new family after that monster destroyed his, a sense of purpose and a place to belong. His blade screams for blood, egged on by the fury and sickness battling inside him.

A deal to save the blood of the Devil, to sacrifice all the Allied Captains who’d sworn their lives to him in exchange. In that moment, Squard understands.

Squard makes his way onto the Moby Dick, crossing the deck slowly but steadily as the pirates await their orders. Nobody stops him, not one of the men he thought were his brothers. Do they know the treachery their captain is about to unleash? How readily the man they call father will throw away their lives?

He can’t get too close yet, he needs to wait for the right moment.

You’re fighting for your life with Sabo at your back while you’re swarmed by Marines and Cipher Pol agents alike, and your Haki is steadily flagging as you get more and more exhausted. The hits you take get more frequent and the blows ache for longer. You're no surprised when it finally happens. The next time you try to coat your cuff in Haki, the only thing that happens is that you pull a metaphorical muscle in your chest.

Your Haki just ran out.

You clench your fists tighter around the sea stone cuffs and brace yourself to tank as many hits as it takes. All you want in this moment is the familiar grip of your sword in your palms but this is not the time to think about that because you’re a little busy to be mourning your lost weapon.

A captain swings his sword at you and your legs feel like lead; you can’t dodge in time so you do the only thing you can and punch, sea stone colliding with steel so hard that fireworks explode all the way up your arm until all you see is stars. You were trying to conserve your Haki as much as possible, but in that moment, you understand just how much of a difference even a tiny bit of Haki makes.

Your arms tremble with exhaustion as you raise your fists, looking around to see the captain watching you coldly as Cipher Pol advances.

You can’t take any more of this.

“Sabo!” you call desperately, growing more aware with every second that passes that you are injured and completely exhausted and out of Haki and barely more than a sitting duck.

“Alex! Just hang on!” Sabo shouts back, swinging his pipe like a maniac but the moment it takes him to take down the commodore he’s fighting is enough of a delay for Cipher Pol to close ranks. You look around, fingers tightening around your only defense.

You’re surrounded.

You’re exhausted.

You’re hurt.

You have never been more terrified in your entire life.

A Cipher Pol agent lunges and the only thing you can do is brace yourself.

Before his outstretched hand can close around you, a shot rings out. The black suit and the man inside it fall to the ground. Then there’s another. And another. And another and another and another until you lose count and your head spins from the noise. Each one hits with deadly accuracy, Haki propelling each bullet into its target and dropping one enemy after another with each shot.

A streak of white and maroon clears out a line of Marines, before matching blurs of silver—one white and yellow, the other small and pale green—take out the Cipher Pol agents. There’s a pink blob behind them that wavers with every bullet fired. The sea of white and blue uniforms and black suits is overrun as people charge into the clearing and in a matter of seconds, you can’t even see a single Marine.

You’re surrounded again. But this time, it’s not the enemy.

It’s the Commanders.

Relief is a monsoon as it crashes over you. Your legs quit.

You crumble to the ground and stare up at your brothers’ backs as they fight off the next wave. For a few seconds, you just sit there and breathe as the war goes on around you. Sound slowly comes back and the throbbing pain in your arms returns as your adrenaline wears off. Sixty seconds ago, you were utterly fucked. Now, you’re as safe as you can possibly be; your brothers aren’t going to let anything past them, not even if it kills them.

The white and yellow blur pushes between Namur and Blenheim and your stomach swoops as Thatch rushes towards you. He drops to his knees and grabs you by the arms and this is no time or place for a reunion but he’s here and he’s alive and your fingers claw at his sleeves.

“Are you hurt?!” Thatch demands, his face inches from yours. You shake your head, a fresh surge of hysterical adrenaline and sheer relief pulling a massive smile across your cheeks. Without wasting another second, you force your legs to push off the ground and throw yourself into your big brother.

Thatch’s arms envelop you as he hugs you for dear life, squeezing you like a boa constrictor, pressing you into his front where you can hear the strong and quick beat of his heart in his chest. His hand curls around the back of your head and you ignore the red-hot fire in your wrist as you dig your fingers deeper into his shirt.

For a few seconds, he just holds you while you cling to him. Tears pour down your face. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive and even with everything else you fucked up, your big brother is still here.

“You’re gonna save Ace, right?”

“We’re gonna save him,” Thatch promises. He’s never broken a promise to you ever. Thatch starts to stand, reaching down to wrap an arm under your legs. “But first, we’re getting you home.”

You put on a burst of speed and wriggle out of the hold before he has a chance to pick you up.

“I’m fine!”

“Ali—”

“You need both hands,” you say, and it’s an order if you’ve ever given one. You’re steadier on your feet than you were a few minutes ago, and the brief rest was enough for your Haki to start trickling back in. You’re not ready to fight yet but you’re surrounded by your brothers and you have time to recover.

Thatch hesitates, a pained look in his eyes as they rove over you and pause on your swollen wrists and all the blood you’re covered in. When his eyes meet yours, you hold your ground and stare him down.

“Are you sur—”

“Yes.”

The last time you saw him, he would’ve picked you up no matter what you did or said. But right now, he just swallows and nods once, reaching into his sash to draw his twin swords.

“Stay close to me,” he orders, and then much louder, “LET’S GET HER HOME!”

A roar erupts as the Commanders rally around the battle cry, ready to get you back through the fray.

Chapter Text

The Moby Dick rocks and sways with the colossal power clashing on the battlefield, and each roll of the familiar deck under Squard’s feet feels like a betrayal. He’s not sure what he’s feeling right now. Angry, certainly. Betrayed. Obviously. Disappointed, definitely disappointed. But what’s done is done and there’s no going back now.

A good number of Whitebeards remained behind to protect the ship, and it’s easy to see Commander Kingdew fighting off any shots that get near the Moby from his spot by Whitebeard’s traitorous side. Squard grips his sword tighter and continues forward.

Nobody stops him.

There’s no stopping him. It’s already done, there’s only the matter of finishing what his so-called “Pops” had started.

Squard advances.

Sabo feels his heart stop as Alex screams his name, and the damn Marine in his way refuses to fall. She’s put up one hell of a fight but Sabo knows all the signs of a fighter pushed past their limits, and his Observation is screaming at him to get to his sister before it’s too late.

“Just hang on!” he shouts back, throwing all his training to the wind as he lets his instincts take over. Cipher Pol is already swarming, he has no idea what the hell they want with her and he doesn’t care. They can’t have her. Sabo’s already lost enough time with his family, he’s not losing his sister to those monsters.

There’s blood on his hands and all over his pipe when he clears through the commodore in his way and he charges forward just as gunfire erupts. It’s loud enough to be a cannon blast but the shots are far too quick and precise as Haki-coated bullets pick off Cipher Pol agents in rapid succession.

Sabo doesn’t freeze at the sight. But he does pause for a second to process what’s happening as the wave of pirates charge in.

Pirates he recognizes. These are the famed Whitebeard Commanders, the fearsome powers of the New World that fight under the World’s Strongest Man.

Alex’s brothers.

He sees her collapse and there’s a moment of panic before he realizes it’s her brothers surrounding her, not the Marines, and he’s got more immediate problems as the Cipher Pol agents realize they’re about to lose their target and charge all at the same time.

The Whitebeards don’t ask questions as Sabo falls in step with them, they just accept the stranger fighting on their side. It’s a strange experience to fight alongside so many powerful pirates; Sabo has spent a lot of time in the New World in his life, but rarely has he fought with this many strong allies. The Whitebeards really are an army to fear, and for a second he wonders about how much the Revolution could accomplish with this kind of might by their side. Dragon is one of the strongest men Sabo has ever met, and most of the Commanders are in a league of their own—just look at Ivankov or Kuma—but Whitebeard’s Fleet numbers thousands.

Sabo’s pipe is a blur, and it’s so different than beating off the Marines attacking him and Alex because now he has allies on all sides but these Marines seems a hell of a lot stronger.

“Die, you Revolutionary scum!” one of the Cipher Pol agents snarls, and Sabo hefts his pipe. But a shot cracks through the air like thunder before he even has a chance to move and the agent keels over.

Sabo turns to see his savior.

“So you’re a Revolutionary?” the commander of the sixteenth division of the Whitebeard pirates—his name is Izou, he originates from Wano, and their intelligence network somehow dug up a rumor that he has ties to the Kozuki clan who formerly held claim to the throne. Dragon had explored the possibility that some link to the Kozuki might have been useful to open a partnership with the Mink tribe on Zou (for whatever reason that would help) but ultimately negotiations had fallen through. It was impossible to get the two dueling rulers to agree to terms, even if they both agreed with the Revolutionary Army’s mission.

“I am,” Sabo confirms as he covers the man’s back long enough for him to reload one of his pistols. In between effortlessly reloading and spinning the barrel back into place, the man shakes his head and sighs.

“Do I even want to know what Lexie’s been up to?”

“Sounds like she keeps you on your toes,” Sabo jokes, but only because he can see Alex in the center of the throng of disturbingly strong pirates, running alongside them of her own power and looking significantly more alert than she had since their mad-dash to escape the mirror realm.

“In the same way that an ocean is a bit of water,” Izou agrees. Not a single hair falls out of place as he empties the entire clip he just replaced, buying enough space for the other Whitebeards to push through a tangle of Marines. Izou glances at him and Sabo feels himself being sized up. “What’s your name? I’d like to thank the kid who saved my sister properly.”

“Kid?” Sabo scoffs, “I’m not a kid.”

“Sure, kid,” one of the other Whitebeards in the small mob agrees immediately, his sword locked against a Marine lieutenant. Sabo could protest, he muses as he engages in a series of blows against a lieutenant of his own, but there’s a time and a place for that.

“The name’s Sabo,” he says.

Commander Izou doesn’t show it on his face, but Sabo’s Observation is on high-alert and he feels the burst of surprise in the man’s Haki presence.

“You’ve heard of me?”

He’s not expecting a few of the men to laugh, or for one of them to call out, “Hey Deuce, you ever hear the name Sabo?”

“Once or twice,” Deuce—Masked Deuce, former first mate of the Spade pirates—calls back, “Thought he was supposed to be dead, though.”

“It’s a long story,” Sabo summarizes.

“Great! Can’t wait to hear it later,” Deuce replies over the noise of the war and that’s more than enough for the Whitebeards for now.

“I assume you’re here to save your brother, then?” Commander Izou asks.

“Brothers.”

“I thought so,” Izou says. He pauses mid-step, whirling around to throw his dark overcoat into the face of an unsuspecting Marine to step closer to Sabo.

“We’ve got her,” the pirate promises as his palm squeezes Sabo’s shoulder tightly. His gaze is piercing in the way that only the most talented Observation users can manage, “We’re trusting you with Ace.”

Thatch stays by your side as long as he can and your brothers manage to keep the attacking forces at bay for a while. The reprieve doesn’t last forever though, and the closer you get to the front lines, where Luffy and his absurd entourage are pushing forward through sheer force of will, the more dangerous fighters you encounter.

Vice Admiral Momonga is the one to sneak through the Commanders’ formation and Thatch doesn’t let him take more than a single step towards you. But even though he was the first, he wasn’t the only one.

It’s been some number of minutes (you have no idea how many, your brain might as well be scrambled eggs at this point) and you’re not even close to half your normal strength, but your Haki has been slowly and steadily trickling back in. So when the commodore attacks, you don’t hesitate to swing the chain of your seastone knuckles at him. He crumbles the instant the stone touches him and you don’t waste time hitting him again, you just keep running. Rakuyo is just a few steps behind you, blocking the Marine before he can try again.

Time slows to a stop and also moves to turbo speed as you and your brothers push towards the front. Your exhausted Observation Haki is fighting for its life (and also your life) and the entire world has narrowed down to the ground in front of you and whatever Marines sneak through.