Chapter Text
Fire engulfed Ace’s fist as he leapt in the air, feeling the heat burst from him and expand into a massive ball of flame. Whitebeard’s eyes widened as he glanced up, swinging his naginata in front of him to block the powerful blow. Gritting his teeth, Ace let the power course through him, directing his inferno down at the old man.
Whitebeard stumbled backwards, groaning as the flames swallowed him up. The naginata snapped in half, and he could only look on in horror as Ace pressed towards him, fiery burst after fiery burst blasting into him. The white hairs of his moustache began to smoke, singed by the flame.
“I’ve got you now!!” Ace shouted, the sky lighting up around him as he directed a comet-like ball of fire down at his opponent.
“Too… strong…” Whitebeard choked out as the burst of flame struck him in his scarred chest. “I don’t… stand a chance… against such incredible power…”
BOOM!!!
Fire exploded around the Moby Dick as Ace’s final move crushed into Whitebeard. The old pirate collapsed onto the deck, smoke trailing off his body.
Ace landed next to him, coming to stand over his opponent, a triumphant grin lighting up his face. It was finally over. He had won.
“Congratulations…” Whitebeard rasped. “You have defeated me and proven yourself far stronger than the World’s Strongest Man. Ace… You are vastly superior to and so much cooler than your father.”
The Spade Pirates cheered loudly, celebrating with their captain. Some of the Whitebeard Pirates began to join in, until everyone was gathered around him, chanting. “Ace! Ace! Ace!”
He raised a fist in the air. “From now on, we’re gonna do things my way! And that means conquering the entirety of the New World!! Next stop, liberating Wano!!”
The cheering only grew louder and more frenzied. Ace’s gaze flitted around the blurry, nondescript crowd until his focus pulled towards the one person he was looking for. A spotlight seemed to fall upon Yara as she made her way towards him. “Oh, Ace,” she whispered, swooning. “That fight was amazing! You’re so strong, and powerful, and handsome…”
“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, taking her hands in his and gazing into her beautiful brown eye. “You’re pretty cute yourself, y’know. How ‘bout I buy you a drink sometime?”
“You may buy me a drink anytime, because I’m madly in love with you, Ace. May I…” She hesitated, her voice becoming soft. “May I have the honour of being your girl?”
“Baby, I’ve wanted to make you mine from the moment I first laid eyes on you,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close.
But before he could kiss her, a random Marine popped out of nowhere. “Excuse me, Portgas D. Ace? Here’s your new bounty poster. It’s the highest bounty ever recorded in all of history-- even higher than Gold Roger’s-- and the World Government has officially declared you a top-level threat.”
“You can tell the World Government to kiss my ass!” Ace declared. “In fact, you can tell the Celestial Dragons that I’m coming for them as soon as I topple the other Emperors!”
The Marine gulped. “Yes, sir!”
“Now…” Ace murmured, turning his attention back to Yara. “Where were we?”
She giggled. “I believe you were going to kiss me.”
“Right, right.” Romantic music swelled around them, the scene suddenly bathed in the light of a sunset as Ace leaned in, his lips drawing closer and closer to hers--
“Hey! Earth to Ace!!”
Thunk!!
Ace’s head jerked upwards, startled by the sound. Thatch had dropped another stack of dishes right beside the sink.
“Daydreaming again, huh?” the Fourth Division Commander teased him. “I wonder what you’re grinning to yourself about this time?”
“Never you mind,” Ace grumbled, his face heating up as he stared back down at the plate he was scrubbing. Giving it a good rinse, he stuck it into the drying rack.
“Well, you’ve been doing a pretty good job. We should almost be through the dinner rush by now.” Thatch dusted off his hands. “Hey, do you wanna take a break from that and help me serve dessert?”
“There’s dessert?”
“Yeah, Kumanomi’s famous Fishman Tiramisu.”
“Fishman Tiramisu?” Ace raised an eyebrow. “Is it made of tuna or something?”
Thatch laughed. “No, no. It’s regular tiramisu, he just likes to be dramatic about it.”
“That’s because you humans never get the moistness right,” Kumanomi joked as he walked by.
“We only usually make it on special occasions, but I guess we figured you becoming an official guest of the crew was special enough.” Grinning, Thatch placed a large tray of tiramisu onto the table. He grabbed a rolling blade, carefully slicing the dessert into small rectangular pieces.
Ace scowled at him. “Just wait until I beat Whitebeard.”
“Sure, sure.” Thatch scooped out a piece and put it on the first plate on top of a large stack. “Hey, would you mind doing the chocolate sauce? Just give each piece a good drizzle. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”
Reluctantly, Ace picked up the bottle of chocolate sauce, inelegantly squirting some onto the pieces Thatch had dug out so far. Three chefs from Fourth Division were helping lay the plates out, while a half dozen more were quickly running them out into the mess hall.
As Thatch reached the corner piece of the tiramisu, he elbowed Ace, giving him a grin. “This’ll be for Yara, since she likes the corner pieces. Oh, and put a gooseberry on it for her, too. She loves those.”
Ace blinked, watching as Thatch set the special piece down. As carefully as he could, he drizzled extra chocolate sauce over it in neat, even rows, trying to make it look as artistic as possible. Before he was even aware of it, he had drawn a little heart in chocolate. Embarrassed, he grabbed the can of whipped cream that was sitting on the counter and put a dollop over it, then stuck a gooseberry into the whipped cream.
Thatch whistled, surveying Ace’s work. “Very fancy. Now why don’t you take it out to her?”
“Wait, you want me to do that?”
“Yeah. If you’ve got a treat, she won’t bite, I promise.” Thatch smiled disarmingly. “Once you do that, I think you’ll have earned yourself another duel with Pops. I’ll even vouch for you.”
Ace sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Okay, fine.”
Picking up the plate, he swallowed. It was… strange. He could take on an Emperor of the Sea without hesitation, but the mere thought of Yara made him weak in the knees. And it wasn’t like he had never talked to girls before, either. Back when he was still roaming free as Captain of the Spade Pirates, he could have a whole group of them eating out of the palm in his hand at any tavern they stopped at before Deuce inevitably dragged him back to the ship, cutting his fun short.
C’mon, he tried egging himself on as he headed into the mess hall. I can be charming. Cool. Suave. All that. Just… gotta think of what to say. Maybe, ‘Hey, so you like gooseberries? I’m more of a blackberry guy myself. Used to pick ‘em with my brothers up on Mt. Corvo.’ …No, that’s a little too personal. Don’t wanna overshare. Gotta keep an air of mystery about me, heh heh. Or… How about, ‘Something sweet for someone sweet?’ Ugh, nah, that’s so lame. She’ll never go for some cheesy line. She’s too smart for that.
He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to tidy it. I guess at this point I should just settle for her not glaring at me like I spat in her coffee.
Ace scanned the mess hall, his heart fluttering as his eyes landed on the person he was searching for. Yara sat at a table with four others, all swordsmen from Fifth Division by the looks of the swords leaning up against the wall behind them. There were several mugs of beer on the table; most empty. Only Yara had a half-full glass of red wine in front of her.
The conversation died down as he approached. Yara glanced over, her gaze darting between him and the plate in his hand before finally coming to rest back on him. Ace slowed to a halt as their eyes met, his stomach doing a somersault at the sight of her sitting there, her straight-backed posture as impeccable as always. Her hair was pinned back into a bun, loose violet strands curling around her neck, while her shoulders peeked out from the deliciously low-cut neckline of her blouse. Ace’s cheeks heated up as he forced himself to concentrate on her face, lest his eyes trail a little too low.
Say something!! a tiny voice in his brain urged him.
Some of the men began to snicker, one or two of them letting out a low “oooooh!”
The mocking sound brought Ace back to reality. He immediately bent down into a polite bow, extending the plate towards its intended recipient. “Ma’am.”
He held his breath. After a few seconds, he felt the weight of the plate leave his hand. Glancing up, his eyes widened.
Yara had taken it from him, placing it down on the table in front of her. Her gaze diverted towards the slice of dessert. “…Thanks,” she said quietly.
Ace exhaled, quickly turning around before she or anyone else could see the grin that threatened at the corners of his lips. He darted back into the kitchen before allowing it to break free, stretching across his face. His heart pounded erratically, the butterflies in his stomach bursting forth into a flurry of joy.
Thatch raised an eyebrow at him. “It went well, I take it?”
“She thanked me,” Ace said breathlessly.
The Fourth Division Commander chuckled. “Between beating Pops and wooing Yara, you’ve sure got two impossible tasks ahead of you. Now before we go see Pops about that duel, help me finish these dishes, huh?” He tossed Ace a cloth. “You’re on drying duty.”
Ace nodded absentmindedly, still buzzing from the brief encounter. He picked up a plate from the drying rack, giving it a wipe before placing it down on the counter to be put away. “So… What else do you know about her?”
“Who, Yara? Hmm…” Thatch thought for a moment. “She likes fried potatoes. I mean, reeeeeaaaally likes them, especially the chips we make when we do fish and chips nights. But she won’t eat them if they’re too salty. Kinda picky that way. Don’t ask her about the ham incident. You’ll-- and I’ll-- never hear the end of it.”
“But where did she come from? What’s her story?”
“I can’t really tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because, truthfully, I only know bits and pieces of it myself. She doesn’t talk much about her life prior to her time on the Moby Dick. And besides--”
“She’s wanted for murder, y’know,” a deep voice rumbled behind them.
Ace turned around, his eyes narrowing. Teach stared back at him, a strange, twisted sort of grin on the man’s face.
“…Or, at least, that’s what the rumours say, anyways,” the older pirate continued, scratching his chin. “Zehahaha. Maybe it’s not true after all. Would be a real shame if someone brought an axe down on her pretty little neck.”
Thatch sighed, handing Ace another dish. “Hey, quit messing with the kid, Teach.”
Teach merely let out another laugh before lumbering over to the fridge, digging around for a moment then finally withdrawing an entire cherry pie. He took a bite, crumbs spewing all over the kitchen floor. “Zehahahaha. See ya later, rookie.” With that, he wandered off.
Ace’s brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to the dishes. Wanted for murder? Could that be true? The thought of it was strange, but somehow not impossible. He placed another dried plate atop the stack on the counter. We’re all pirates here. Outlaws. We’ve all got blood on our hands, to some degree… But you, Yara… Someone as strange and alluring as you… Who are you, really?
He wondered if he’d ever get to know.
☠-----⚔-----☠-----⚔-----☠
Ace groaned as he slowly picked himself up from off the deck. His head throbbed, a small trickle of blood trailing down his forehead. He wiped it away, inelegantly smearing red across the back of his hand.
“Gurararara,” Whitebeard chuckled. “Better luck next time, brat.”
Scowling, Ace accepted the cloth Thatch handed him. “I’ll bring you to your knees one of these days, old man.”
“Is that so?” Amusem*nt twinkled in the old pirate’s eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that, then.” His coat swishing behind him, Whitebeard strode off towards his cabin.
“Well, you almost hit him a few times,” Thatch said, crossing his arms. “But you’re still not reading him very well before he moves. Like I’ve been telling you, that’s something observation haki can help with.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Here, I’ve got a minute. We can work on it.” The Fourth Division Commander grinned. “Why don’t you try throwing a punch at me?”
Ace tossed the bloodied cloth aside, his fists curling. Licks of fire burst from his skin as he drew his right hand back before taking an aggressive swing. Thatch, however, sidestepped it easily.
Gritting his teeth, Ace tried again, following the first attempt up with a quick one-two punch combo. Thatch dodged them both easily, swaying from side to side.
“Your movements are too big,” he said. “You’re focusing too much on your own power. Sure, that fire comes in real handy, but you’re just sort of flailing around and hoping you hit something. Which might’ve been a good enough strategy back in Paradise, but you’re in the New World now. You’re gonna need something a bit more substantial than that.”
“Shut up,” Ace grunted, throwing another punch at the division commander, this time faster and harder.
“Focus on me, not just on yourself,” Thatch told him as he moved out of the way. “You’re still not quite getting it.”
“Shut up!” Ace leapt towards Thatch, his fist engulfed in flame.
“Concentrate, Ace. Try to predict where I’m going to move next.”
“I am trying!”
“Not hard enough.” Thatch sidestepped him, then pivoted, haki pulsing around his hand as he struck Ace across the back.
Ace coughed as the weight of the unexpected blow crashed into him. He stumbled forwards, falling to his knees. He had almost forgotten that his opponent was far more than just the crew’s head chef, but a fearsome fighter in his own right. A Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. If Ace couldn’t beat him, there was no way he was going to be able to take on Whitebeard.
“See what I did there?” Thatch offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. “I looked for an opening with observation haki and then used armament haki to take it. I don’t have a Devil Fruit like you do, so I’ve had to train my armament haki to compensate for that.”
“So what, then? You want me to use observation haki to find Whitebeard’s weak spots before I hit him with a Fire Fist?”
Thatch chuckled. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find any weaknesses on Pops, but thinking that way would be a good place to start. I’m sure you’ll find more uses for your Devil Fruit as your haki abilities improve.”
Ace glanced over at the massive empty chair facing the ship’s bow. A shiver ran up his spine. Even when he was absent, the old Emperor’s presence loomed large. “Whitebeard has a Devil Fruit too, right?”
“Yeah, the Tremor Tremor Fruit.”
“I’ve never seen him use it.”
“Ha, well, it’s a real sight to behold. He won’t use it on you until you’ve earned it, though.”
“How will I earn it?”
“Cut past his defenses with observation haki first.” Giving him a wink, Thatch strode off, heading towards the kitchen.
☠-----⚔-----☠-----⚔-----☠
“Did you hear the latest about Fire Fist?”
“No, what now?”
“Well, you know how he made that deal with Pops?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s the only thing anyone has talked about all week. Did something else happen?”
“Nothing in particular, just that apparently there’s a limit to it. He has one hundred chances to take on Pops, and if he doesn’t beat him by then, he’s gonna bend the knee.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. How many losses is he on now?”
“Eighteen, I think? A couple guys from Sixth Division have a chart. Someone wanted to start a betting pool, but then we realised that no one was gonna bet against Pops.”
“Ha, yeah, that’s true. But Fire Fist Ace would be a pretty good score for our fleet. He’s a powerful rookie, even if he can’t last more than a minute when it comes to fighting Pops.”
Ace gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the conversation going on in the background as he swept the remainder of the pile of crumbs and debris into the dustpan. Carefully, he rose to his feet, carrying the pan over to a garbage bin in the corner of the massive mess hall and dumping out the pan’s contents.
At a table in the corner, Teach had pushed two of the chairs together to form a makeshift bench he could lounge on. Tin plates containing the remnants of cherry pie were stacked messily atop one another on the table’s surface.
Sticking the dustpan onto the broom’s handle, Ace walked over to Teach. “Okay, that’s done. What next?”
“Uh…” Teach scratched his head. “Think Pops said something about a supply closet? Or was it the storage area…?”
“Don’t you have a list?”
“Do I… Oh, right! Zehahaha!!” Teach pushed himself to his feet, the crumbs that had accumulated on his coat dropping to the floor and scattering. “I was sitting on it!”
Ace bit back an irritated sigh as the much larger man scrambled to pull the list out, his eyes narrowing at it. Somehow, even the mountain bandits had been more organised than this.
“Aha!” Teach suddenly shouted. “Storage room 4F! This way, rookie!” Without even waiting for Ace to put the broom down, he began to wander off down the hallway.
Leaning the broom against the table, Ace hurried after him until Teach stopped outside an unmarked door on the fourth floor. Letting out a grunt, he leaned his shoulder against it and turned the knob, pushing it open.
The room wasn’t very big, only about half the size as the one Ace had woken up in when he had first been brought to the Moby Dick against his will. Along the back wall were rows of shelves, mostly empty except for the top shelf, which had been lined with old, hard-backed books, their covers tattered and fading. On the floor, however, was an assortment of boxes of various sizes. Some were falling apart and held only together by a slapdash application of tape, and none were labelled. It looked as if someone had recently gone through them all, desperately searching for a single item and leaving a whirlwind of the boxes scattered in their wake.
Ace peered inside, glancing around. “So I’m supposed to what? Clean up in here?”
“Something like that,” Teach said with a shrug.
“You don’t know?”
“That’s your job, rookie.”
“How is it my--” He sucked in a breath. “Fine. I’ll just move these boxes back onto the shelves, then. Do you know where they’re supposed to go?”
“Nope.”
Ace’s teeth gritted. The least Whitebeard could’ve done was assign someone to watch over him who knew anything at all about what was going on. Even working in the kitchen with Thatch was far more bearable, despite how chatty the head chef could be.
He bent down, selecting one of the boxes before moving it over to an available spot on the bottom shelf, next to a box that was roughly the same size and shape.
“Waitwaitwait!” Teach called out, and Ace stopped. The older pirate scratched the scraggly hairs on his chin. “Zehahaha. I just remembered. That one goes on the third shelf.”
“Now you tell me,” Ace muttered under his breath, hoisting the box up.
“...Or was it the second shelf? Eh, never mind. Put it wherever you want. I’m hungry.” Without giving Ace a moment to respond, Teach wandered out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he retreated.
“Some handler he is,” he grumbled, annoyed. If the Whitebeard Pirates hadn’t been taking him seriously before, they certainly weren’t now. He wasn’t some kind of tamed circus animal, and if he had to defeat Whitebeard to prove it, then there was no way he was going to give up. Not after one hundred tries, and not after a thousand.
Slowly, he moved the boxes around, clearing a path to the door. As tedious as the task was, at least it was giving him something of a workout. He could almost trick himself into believing this was some sort of training exercise. Stepping back from the shelves, he surveyed his progress for a moment before bending down to pick up another box.
“Excuse me.”
Ace froze at the cool tone of the familiar feminine voice. He immediately straightened up. “Can I… May I help you, ma’am?”
Yara’s hand rested on the frame as she stood in the doorway. “Is this an inconvenient moment for me to retrieve something?”
“No, no.” He emphatically shook his head. “Go right ahead.”
The sweet scent of vanilla lingered in the air as she strode into the room. Ace’s gaze trailed up from her slender legs to the lace-hemmed sundress that graced her body, decorated with a rose motif. Heat rose to his cheeks as she passed by him, only an arm’s length away. Just her proximity was enough to make his heart begin to race.
Yara reached up, standing on the tips of her toes as she aimed to select a book on the top shelf. Her fingers brushed against it as she struggled to dislodge it from its place.
Ace put the box he was currently holding down and stepped towards her. “Here, let me.” Without waiting for her to respond, he reached towards the top shelf, his hand hovering only inches from hers. Grasping the book’s spine, he gently tugged it down and held it out for her to take. She immediately clasped onto the bottom of the book.
His breath hitched as their eyes met, allowing himself to be sucked into the deep chocolate brown vortex of her gaze. They each held onto one end of the book, a tangible, almost electric feeling buzzing in the air around them, making a shiver run up Ace’s spine.
“What is it that you think you’re trying to accomplish here?” Yara suddenly asked.
His brow furrowed. “Accomplish? You looked like you were struggling, so I--”
“Don’t play innocent.” She scowled. “You know what I mean.”
Ace was confused. “Uh, I actually have no idea what you mean. Did I… do something?”
“You’re only being so polite to me because there’s something you’re after. Isn’t that right?”
“What? No, I-- I’m not--”
“Oh, please. I know you want the same thing out of me that men have only ever wanted out of me.” Her eye narrowed. “So you should save yourself the trouble and give up now, because I have never surrendered myself to anyone, and I will never do so to you.”
“I don’t-- That’s not--” Ace’s cheeks began to burn as he raised his free hand in the air, waving it around. “I mean, you’re very pretty, and-- and wow, that sundress, it’s, um-- er, but I’m not-- at least, what I’m-- what I mean is-- that’s… that’s not what I want.”
“Then what do you want, pray tell?”
“Like I said before.” Sincerity punctuated his tone. “I want to know you.”
Yara looked stunned. “To… know me?”
“Yeah. That’s all I’m really after.”
“But… But why? Why would you want that?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting a hand on the back of his neck. “I just do.”
“You don’t make any sense,” she sputtered, her cheeks going pink. “There’s no way you can-- I-- I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me.” He let go of the book and took a step back. “But I don’t want to take anything from you that you’re not willing to give, I promise.”
Yara stared at him for a moment, her brow furrowed as if trying to gauge what he was possibly up to. Finally, she hugged the book to her chest, the lace hem of her dress brushing against her legs as she twirled around and strode away.
☠-----⚔-----☠-----⚔-----☠
“So tell me something, Thatch.”
The Fourth Division Commander glanced up from the cutting board. “Yeah?”
Ace folded his arms, leaning back against the counter. “I keep hearing people around here saying something about one hundred duels. What do they mean? I don’t remember attaching any conditions like that.”
“Of course you don’t. I spread that part,” Thatch said with a shrug, waving the knife in the air. “A competition’s got to have proper terms and limits, after all. You can’t say it’ll happen ten years later just because you feel like it.”
“I never said I’d capitulate and join Whitebeard.”
“Well, his head’s not gonna come cheap. Besides, if you can’t win in a hundred tries, you’re not going to win in a thousand.” Thatch put the knife down and gestured over to a giant pot that hung overtop a stack of logs in one of the kitchen’s fireplaces. “Here, give this a light.”
Ace started a fire out of sheer frustration, directing the flames towards the logs. They lit up immediately, smoke trailing up into the brick chimney above.
“Ooh, that’s nice. The most important thing for a wok is the heat!” Thatch grinned, pleased. “Hey, Ace… if you do join our crew, come to the Fourth Division. I’ll craft you into a first-rate flame cook.”
“Very funny,” Ace grumbled, giving him a look.
With that step done, Thatch turned his attention back to chopping vegetables. “Twenty failed tries in your little bet so far and you still think you have a shot, huh?”
“I will beat him.”
“Well, not at the rate you’re currently going. See, the thing with you, Ace, is that you tend to focus all your energy on the stuff you’re already good at. That doesn’t really leave a lot of room for growth.”
Ace opened his mouth to argue, but shut it again once he realised Thatch had a point.
“You know…” Thatch looked thoughtful. “There is a specific type of observation haki I haven’t shown you yet that might be able to help you take on Pops.”
“Are you gonna teach it to me?”
“I could try, but the thing is, I haven’t quite mastered it myself. …Actually, there’s one person on this crew who has it figured out more than anyone I’ve ever met and could probably train you better than I could.”
“Who?”
“Oh, Ace, my pal.” A grin lit up Thatch’s face as he clamped a hand down on the younger pirate’s shoulder. “I’m about to do you a massive favour.”
