Portgas. D. Ace - One Shot

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A/N: I hope you don't mind, I tweaked things just slightly so that the story doesn't move too fast! Instead of making him realise instantly before he joins the crew, I made it so that he comes to realise over a few days, after he joins up and buil...

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A/N: I hope you don't mind, I tweaked things just slightly so that the story doesn't move too fast! Instead of making him realise instantly before he joins the crew, I made it so that he comes to realise over a few days, after he joins up and builds up a relationship with her already. Felt more natural that way!



The sea was calm today, the breeze soft against your cheeks as you stood at the edge of the deck, scanning the horizon.

The smaller ship beneath your boots creaked gently, a humble vessel borrowed from the Moby Dick for your solo mission.

You missed her, the ship. The sound of her wide, creaking hull. The scent of salt and old rum that lingered in her halls. The rowdy voices of your family echoing across her decks. You missed home.

You weren't going to be gone for long, just a quick errand for Pops, checking in on an allied island that hadn't responded to a den den mushi call. Routine stuff, nothing to worry about, but still, it pulled you from the heart of your world, and you felt the absence of it like a dull ache in your chest.

You had a place aboard the Moby Dick. Not just a bunk or a title, but a place. You were one of the older crew members, not in age but in tenure. You'd earned your place through fire and fury, and more importantly, through loyalty. Pops trusted you with his name.

You weren't just a comrade to men like Marco, Thatch, Vista, or Izou, you were family. You'd seen Marco balancing doctor and division commander, watched Vista trim that ridiculous moustache while humming opera tunes, helped Izou tighten a kimono before a brawl, cooked with Thatch.

You sparred, drank, laughed, and bled with them. They had your back, and you had theirs, and of course, Pops. Whitebeard. Your old man. He was safety. He was warmth. He was the reason you called the sea your home.

You smiled, adjusting the rope you'd tied to the tiller. Just a couple more days, then you'd be back. You had no idea that back on the Moby Dick, someone new had arrived, and was raising hell.

It had been a rough week on the ship. The newcomer, Portgas D. Ace, had taken up the crew's attention in a way few ever had. Not for his charm, or his power, or his oddly sweet moments when he thought no one was watching. No, mostly for the chaos.

He'd come in swinging, quite literally. Day after day, night after night, attempting to take Whitebeard's head with fire and fury. The crew had tried to be patient.

Most of them had been in his shoes once, angry, proud, unwilling to bend the knee, but Ace made it harder with every passing day. He yelled at the crew, refused the sake cups held out to him. He sulked in corners and glared at Whitebeard every chance he got, and yet... Pops let him.

Marco sighed as he watched Ace that night, leant against on the deck railing. The sea glistened under the moonlight, beautiful, but in contrast Ace's arms were crossed, face sour as ever.

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