Chapter Text
“Again?”
Ace realised the first division commander must have somehow grown used to him and his bouts of dramatic theatrics when the man didn’t even blink, his eyes tracking the list (stupid list) in his hand. His other free hand reached out to pat him on his shoulder, presumably as an act of consolation, because clearly that was all the teen needed to feel better, right?
The ex-Captain’s bottom lip jutted out, the tip of his right boot scuffing the surface of the deck in agitated displeasure. It was unfair, he thought. The Moby Dick was going to dock early that evening- the entire ship! That hardly happened. He had learnt since he had given in to join their ranks three months back that they often sent out smaller vessels to islands to restock. If they needed to make a stand or protect an island, they would send a small team out to handle it.
This was different. The Island of Kokorogawi had been the talk of the ship for weeks. It was home to vast meadows, cobbled little streets, small villages scattered across the island, and a neat town square for their festivals. Ace wasn’t sure how that worked, but that was the best descriptors he managed to wring out of his new crewmates, though he still didn’t understand what made the island so special.
“A labyrinth?”
“Yes, yes, that’s the word! We’ve got a smart one here, boys!”
“Kokorogawi has one of the most intricate, complex mazes you’d ever have the chance of seeing, kid. People have entered and never left.”
“Why?”
“Huh? Well, they got lost and couldn’t find their way out.”
“Didn’t anyone try to find them?”
“Doesn’t matter, kid. That – what was the word? – labyrinth is impossible to navigate without a local to guide you. You go in? You’re spelling the death of anyone who comes after you.”
That, of course, only made the teen want to go more. He discovered that the Whitebeards made it an annual habit to visit the island’s surprisingly not popular labyrinth to celebrate the founding of the crew. A large enough (though small when compared to the size of the island) part of the labyrinth had been thoroughly explored by them over the years, and they had found a mesmerising clearing somewhere within that that made it a fine place to remember their triumphs and to drink in safety and beauty.
“Isn’t there other places that’s just as…beautiful?”
“It’s tradition, kid. ‘Sides, there’s something magical about that place. I don’t know how to describe it to yah.”
So, it was a mystery, in Luffy’s words. It was his solemn oath and duty to acknowledge the awakened spirit inside him to explore and discover and see and breathe and-and-everything! It was terribly unfortunate, then, that Ace was strictly not allowed to visit the labyrinth until the celebration in an entire three weeks’ time.
Not that that was going to stop him from arguing. “Why not? Everyone else is going!”
Marco didn’t pause as he licked the tip of his finger before using it to flip his notebook. A light breeze slipped past them, and Ace almost wished it would swipe that offending piece of nonsense into the sky so he could either burn it or chuck it into the sea. “You are going, yoi,” the commander said in that flat tone, as if he had repeated the same thing a million times. It was annoying as hell. “But with the rest of us. In three weeks. When we carry out the celebrations.” A pause. “With everyone else.”
“You’ve said that already,” Ace grumbled. He absolutely did not whine.
“I know. And yet you are asking me again.”
Ace crossed his arms. He would have sent an icy glower towards the man, but the blonde wasn’t looking at him still and it’s been made very clear within the past three months (six, if they considered his…first foray into the crew) that the man was as disturbed by the look as he was by kittens. “You know what I mean!”
“And you know what I mean, yoi.” Marco finally seemed to have reach the end of that document as he snapped the notebook shut. He looked up to regard the youth with a stern expression, as if already bracing himself for the worst. “Ace, no.”
Ace gaped at him. No? No?? “No?!” he voiced aloud in incredulity. “I didn’t even say anything!”
Marco didn’t seem moved by the denial. In fact, his countenance only grew more severe. “Ace. It is a labyrinth that we have only explored a tiny part of. The commanders and a few select siblings will need to confirm for ourselves first that nothing has changed since the last time we’ve been here, yoi. It’s extremely dangerous if you wandered on your own.” He raised a hand when the teen moved to speak. “You’re not coming with us in the first trip either. We’re there to do a job, not to have fun.”
The instinctive desire to dig his foot hard in defiance burned within him. Ace had always had a problem with listening to orders. That was the only reason he refused to sail with Luffy. He’d sooner drown himself than serve the little rubbery boy. Even if travelling the world with the kid was his biggest dream, even above finding the worth of his own life. Because in the end… He mentally shook the thought off. But he was with the Whitebeards now. He had made a decision and he should respect that. Surely he had thought this worth it when he gave in three months ago, right?
Ace let loose a sigh, feeling his body go relaxed. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll stay on the ship with everybody else.”
He thought he might have missed an odd expression crossing the older man’s features, but it was gone as quick as it had come.
Marco squeezed his shoulders. A small smile drifted to his lips, erasing that earlier look of adamant refusal. “Thank you for understanding,” he said, his smile warming even further. “I suppose it might hearten you, then, to know that you can head off to the island with the rest of your siblings while we prepare for the celebrations, yoi. Only the labyrinth is off-limits.”
Ace perked up in excitement. Oh? He wasn’t going to be confined to the ship? “Really?”
The blonde commander looked amused as the teen waved a fist in the air in triumph, already going on about what he’d look for and do on solid land. He was going to find a good present for Luffy to remind him his brother was alive and well. Maybe a nice jar of stones for Makino. Dadan and the bandits might like an animal rug or something. He’d be sure to sew his message into the rug so Dadan would have an excuse to keep the letter. If he was feeling generous enough, he’d even get something for Garp, that old man.
Marco let out a soft, pleasant laugh when Ace barely took in another breath to continue. “Looks like you’ll be quite busy on your own, hmmm?” he mused. He playfully shoved the tip of his cowboy hat over his eyes. “And here I was worried that you’d be plotting for something to do.”
Ace swiped at his hands, grinning. “Don’t give me ideas. Then it would be your fault.”
“Oh? Mine?”
A vigorous nod. “All yours. In fact…I might just be thinking of….hmmm.”
The blonde turned wary. “What is it?” he asked when no answer was forthcoming.
A devilish smirk danced across the teen’s lips as he wagged a finger in reply. And then he said the word he had also learnt Marco hated to hear: “Nothing!”
“Hey- Ace. Come back here!”
“What do you usually do when you dock?” Ace asked curiously. He had learnt in his brief time as captain that…there really was little to do in the world other than sightseeing, eating, and exploring places he had never seen before- ergo, sightseeing. And he had seen so few things back on Dawn Island he really couldn’t be blamed for his eagerness to see the world. He remembered once, on some island popular with tourists, his gleeful excitement to cover every inch of the amusement park. They had rollercoasters that shot through the very skies before doubling back in sharp, 360 degree turns as the vehicle danced through loops set ablaze to dramatise the effects. There was even this rather odd contraption where he’d had to strap himself to a seat before they launched him into the air, the wind slapping his face so hard he thought his teeth would fall off.
He recalled having fun, but he also remembered feeling disappointed. Fights were more thrilling than that. Was piracy really just…that?
“Take a breather,” Jozu answered, his face the same unsmiling mask he had always sported since probably the beginning of time. “It does wonders when your feet touch solid ground after months on the seas.”
Ace tilted his head. He was sitting across the commander in the dining hall, his arms propped up on the table as he rested his chin on the palm of his hands. “That’s all?”
Jozu shoved another sandwich into his mouth, taking his time to chew. His dark eyes regarded the teen with an odd look (but then, Ace thought everyone gave him odd looks. He had given up trying to fathom why) before the expression cleared. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” the man said, almost sounding amused.
Ace felt his eyebrows furrow. “No, I’m not,” he defended. “Just…curious. I want to know what I should expect. Never done this before. Never done this with you guys before. Never seen caves everyone keeps gushing about. I want to know what else I can do.”
The commander accepted his answer. “We do what we always do. We get on land, we introduce ourselves again, we wander and explore, drink, spend time together. And if necessary, we kick some ass.”
Ace turned away, for some reason suddenly remembering Marco. “I’d like to kick some ass,” he muttered under his breath.
There was a sharp exhale across from him, sounding suspiciously like a snort, and the fire-user was already scowling at Jozu’s unsurprisingly blank countenance. “What’s funny?” he demanded.
The teen wasn’t sure how to feel then, when for the first time he had boarded the Moby Dick, Diamond Jozu cracked his first smile at him. There was something strange about the experience, how seeing just that twitch at the corners of that man’s lips before it slowly widened into a small curved smile made something in Ace light up in curious warmth. Was this- what was this?
Jozu appeared oblivious to his inner musings. “Don’t go around kicking people’s ass, kid. Marco’s fond of you, that old turkey. You’re going to give him grey hairs if you go around picking a fight.”
“What if I want to fight him?” Ace asked without thinking.
The commander’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He dropped his half-eaten drumstick onto his plate as that smile stretched into a full-blown grin. “Not yet, but when this trip is over, you better try, kid. I’d love to see that.”
The instinctive urge to smile back pushed at Ace, and he found himself biting his lip as he returned the almost fond look shot his way. There was something strangely odd going on, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. But somehow, Jozu smiling at him made him happy. It made him feel…welcome, as if his presence – still new and tentative on the ship – was appreciated.
Not that this feeling wasn’t ridiculous. Ace had long observed the commanders and the captain on the ship while he was happily trying to take down Whitebeard. They were important, his mind supplied, as they were the important ones- the powerful ones. Watch them, his brain insisted. Otherwise he might be taken off guard and be on his knees so quickly he’d deserve it. It was only expected then that he would catch the little details that personalised each one. Like how Thatch demonstrated his affection through his food and his jokes. How Marco expressed his concern through his frown and his constant questions. How Whitebeard- nah, he couldn’t tell yet.
Jozu was an easy enough read. He showed he cared with a grunt or two. He would linger by the subject of his concern with barely a word. His strong hulking presence was often enough assurance that the other was not alone. And he…he rarely smiled. He only did so with those he liked, those that he approved of. Ace…wondered what that meant now that he was getting smiles too.
For some reason, the fire-user wanted to see more of that.
“At least you’ll have fun,” he found himself saying. “You’ll get to see the labyrinth ahead of time. I want to see it to.” His bottom lip unknowingly jutted out.
The commander shook his head. “I won’t be,” he disagreed.
Ace leaned back in surprise. “Why not? Don’t you like it? They said it’s beautiful. Were they exaggerating? Is it really not that great to begin with? It sounded fascinating.”
Jozu’s look was of a man holding back a laugh, if the way his shoulders suddenly shook. “I see what Marco means now,” he said under his breath, low enough that Ace almost couldn’t hear. Then, before the teen could ask, he went on, “It’s, as you say, kid, ‘fascinating’. But Marco doesn’t like me going with him.”
“What? Why not?”
The older man’s features turned sheepish. It looked curiously befitting of a man his size. “The labyrinth isn’t a manmade cave. It’s natural cave that’s been shaped by a fair bit of ice.” He shrugged. “I get cold when we hit the cold areas. I tend to turn to diamond when I get cold. Diamond and ice tend to blend together. Marco doesn’t like that I can camouflage myself well there.”
Ace’s forehead lined in thought. Camouflage...? His eyes widened. “You didn’t…” he whispered in utter shock.
A glint of amusement slid into Jozu’s eyes, as if bracing himself for something. “Marco is very easy to scare when he’s comfortable, kid. You should try it.”
Oh. Oh.
After he managed to calm down slightly from his sudden burst of laughter, Ace choked out, “You’re more than you appear, Commander Jozu.” He grinned playfully. “I think I might just like you.”
A snort. “You think? Marco isn’t the only pirate around here, kid.” Jozu leaned over the table in a manner so conspiratorial Ace remembered three sake cups over a tree trunk. This time, a smirk crossed the commander’s fierce features. “What about it, Ace? Ditch Marco and we’ll see you have more fun than you ever could with that stick in the mud.”
Ace affected a look of exaggerated stunned betrayal. “First encouraging me to fight our first commander. Now telling me to ditch him?” he asked in mock horror. His lips stretched into a grin. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”
Kokorogawi Island, it turned out, was wholly unimpressive. It was a relatively large island compared to its far distant neighbours and was nestled within a part of the New World that saw few increment weathers. The villages were composed of wooden buildings with low roofs- at least that’s what the fire-user thought until he came close enough to see that the wooden structures were, in fact, modelled after such a design. This place was barely a village, he came to realise as he strolled alongside Jozu. It was practically a town.
Some buildings chuffed out black smoke from the chimneys, while some stretched so tall Ace wasn’t quite sure how he’d missed them when he arrived. This island was clearly home to people who had enjoyed peace for years. Children milled the streets, some without the accompaniment of parents, and all the while the occasional ring of laughter filled the air. It was like seeing one of Sabo’s bedtime stories to Luffy come to life. Ace loved it.
“What’s that?”
Jozu obligingly turned to peer at whatever it was the fire-user was pointing at this time. His face twitched when he spotted what it was. “That is a café.”
“A café?”
A brief silence. “Yes.” Another pause. “It is where people go to have coffee.”
Ace nodded, absorbing the information like he would a sponge. “Coffee,” he repeated. “Then why do they have seats? You don’t need a long time to have coffee.”
“Not everyone chokes themselves quite as enthusiastically as you, Ace,” Jozu commented, the heavy weight of his hand slapping the teen on his shoulder, albeit none too gently.
Ace flushed and made a concerted effort to look away. “I don’t drink coffee,” he muttered. “That’s not me at all.”
The commander must have heard him for he heard an immediate snort. Ace scowled. He turned to push at the much larger man. If he put just enough force into it, he was sure he could push the man over, first one-on-one outing be damned. His new crewmates have got to learn he could be pretty violent some day anyway. No point hiding it now. Except the older man had somehow caught on to his plan and was now rubbing at his hair like he would a pet dog.
“Nah, that’s not you. You don’t look the type to want to settle down for some down time in a café anyway.”
Ace almost shook his head to get rid of the hands in his hair but thought the better of it. He really would be imitating a dog then. “What? Really? Why?” he asked as he swiped at the heavy weight on his scalp.
Jozu decided to show him mercy and removed his hand, even as they continued down the cobbled paths. They attracted odd looks from the crew members, probably appearing as an odd paired combination, given that Ace had mostly stuck with Marco, Thatch, Marco, Whitebeard, Marco, Izo, and Marco only. Damn, he realised, what if he was too obvious with his preference of the blonde male over everybody else? That would be embarrassing.
The current commander by his side derailed his train of thoughts. “Enjoying a cup of coffee in a café is what everybody does,” he explained. “You seem the type to run off after adventures than sit down for a breather, you get what I mean?”
“I don’t know,” the fire-user answered as he thought about it. He loved adventures, of course- that’s what made life interesting! But… “I might like it. Try it one day. I’ve never really done what everybody else does. I don’t know what everybody else does.” He kicked a stone on the ground absent-mindedly. “I want to try normal too someday.”
Ace waited for a response. When none came, he looked up, wondering if perhaps Jozu hadn’t heard him or had tired of the conversation, then stopped short when he caught the commander gazing down at him with the strangest expression on his face. It almost resembled Marco’s contemplative frowns (the man had various frowns, believe it or not), when he saw something he didn’t quite know what to think of.
“What?” the teen asked, almost self-conscious.
Jozu blinked, and then the expression was gone. “Nothing,” he said gruffly. “Come on, kid, you hungry yet?”
Ace perked up in an instant. “Hungry? Yes! Are we going to eat now? Is the food great? Marco didn’t say anything about the food, now that I think of it. Why would he leave that out? Is the food so good he didn’t want me to-” He shut up as another word caught up to him. He turned to glare at his now crew member, who, for some reason, seemed to be laughing again. “I’m not a kid!”
Ace waved goodbye to Jozu’s retreating back, trying his absolute best to hide the smile of soft satisfaction. It wouldn’t do to show the man how much he had enjoyed their brief time together.
It surprised him, it did, that he had. Out of the commanders, Jozu had looked to be the most hardened one. He looked fierce, his features almost harsh as he looked upon the people around him. Ace didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but the whole outward exterior was…intimidating. He didn’t want to approach the man only to be rebuffed. Still, he wanted to be accepted. He wanted to get over these first few months of tentative ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’s so he could be as comfortable with everyone as they seemed with each other. He knew it wasn’t realistic to think everyone would like him, but they were all so unbelievably kind to him. A rejection would break that spell, he knew. That illusion that all of them wanted him as he wanted to become one of them. Though one rejection didn’t mean much in the whole scheme of things, given the size of Whitebeard’s crew. But still…
It was all but a pleasant surprise to discover the man beneath Jozu’s hard appearance. He was warm in his own way, mischievous even. Not in the same way Marco was, of course. The first commander was friendly, but he always held himself back, and he wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine either. Huh. Now that he thought about it, Marco was pretty darn fierce too. He recalled not too long ago the man’s utterly cold demeanour when an enemy ship had challenged Whitebeard. It had sent a chill down the teen’s spine, so unused to seeing the man without his shadow of concern and warm, assuring smiles.
Ace shook himself. It didn’t matter. He would learn about them all soon enough. Patience, he thought, was what he needed.
He began to wander away into the village once more. It was unfortunate that Jozu had to be called away for some emergency on the ship. But now that he had time to himself, the fire-user knew the first thing he would try now that he was alone.
The sound of a bell chiming to announce his arrival into the small café was almost startling, reminding him quite vividly of the restaurants he and his brothers used to dine and dash at. It would ring when they entered, and rang again when they shot off, laughing all the while. Ace stood at the door, quite uncertain, as he eyed the quaint little shop. The room was painted a light pastel pink, and the ceilings were adorned with hanging lights, each designed to resemble the night sky. Ace thought he spotted a few stars here and there, a moon, and perhaps the sun. There were eight tables, each only for two, arranged neatly across the room. Two were occupied, despite the crowd outside.
“Welcome!” a cheerful voice greeted him.
Ace turned to see a young girl in her early teens beaming at him behind the counter. “Hello,” he said politely. “I came to…” Uhhh… He glanced around the shop, suddenly quite unsure what it was he was to do here. Jozu said coffee, right? “Coffee?”
The staff-girl-lady only grinned wider. “Of course!” She gestured him over. “What would you like?”
And there it began Ace’s little plunge into horror as he saw an entire list of coffee choices (or tea. Or milkshake. Or milk.) he could choose from. His widened eyes must have clued in the staff-girl-lady for she softened in her approach, slowing down to kindly explain what was what to his pirate-addled brain.
“I don’t know,” he groaned to himself. “Why is this so hard? How do you remember this?”
The staff-girl-lady – Sora, he corrected himself as he glanced at her nametag – laughed. “I work here,” she explained, as if that was enough. He could work here a year and still not remember anything.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” he asked in desperation. “You’d know best, right?”
Sora seemed to light up at this. She clapped her hands in glee. “Alright! Why don’t you take a seat? Will anyone else be coming in with you?”
Ace blinked at her. Jozu said people came here for coffee. Why would anyone come with him? “Uh, no. Just myself.”
Sora nodded. She pointed at the bookshelves at the end of the room. “You can take any book there, if you want, so long as you return it before you leave. If you’re staying long, that is. I’ll get you your surprise drink now!”
Book? Ace had been told many times what he should do, but to be suggested to read a book was odd. He looked between the bookshelf to Sora, and back again. She didn’t seem to mean him any ill will. What could getting someone to read a book do to harm him…right? Or maybe, he thought in growing confusion, reading a book in a café was normal behaviour? Was that why there were tables and chairs here? He didn’t think people took a long time to drink coffee. He eyed the other occupants in the room. One was…staring into space, his mug of something oddly pink abandoned on the table. The other was busy scribbling into a notebook. His coffee, too, was left unattended. Maybe Jozu forgot to tell him that a café was a place to do productive work?
Huh.
Not a moment later and Ace found himself before the bookshelves. He scanned the rows of books, not seeing any point to any of them, before deciding to take a chance. He closed his eyes, ran his fingers over the books, and counted to ten. He stopped the moment he snagged at one book at the tenth count.
He hummed as he pulled it out. His fingers brushed across the covers, somehow remembering a soft voice in his head, telling him about the tragic backstory of some noble from distant pasts. Ace didn’t like reading. But he read anyway, because it reminded him of his dear little brother. The one that was no more.
For a brief moment, he toyed with the idea of leaving. It probably wasn’t a good idea. To read, alone, in a public setting where he might actually break down and cry? Remembering Sabo always made him want to cry.
Ace was about to put the book back when Sora appeared behind him.
“Oh, have you picked out your book yet?”
Ace tensed. “Oh, uh, yeah.”
Sora peeked at it. Her young features shifted into surprise. “Oh? I heard it’s very educational. You might find it interesting. You could always change it out later if you get bored.”
The fire-user felt himself relaxing. Educational. He could do that. Silly him. He smiled when Sora pointed him at one of the tables in the corner, his drink already on the table and waiting. It looked an interesting shade of red and blues.
Sora laughed when he looked to her in curiosity. “Try it! It’s a surprise.”
“I’ll hold you to it then,” he returned, easily finding her easy-going attitude infectious.
When he was finally settled down for his first of many adventures of doing normal things, Ace gently placed the book on the table. A little flitter of excitement thrummed through him. This was going to be good. If not, well, he’d be disappointed, but he’d ditch this for another normal-thing to do. Sabo wouldn’t have expected him to continue anyway.
Ace’s eyes were drawn to the title of the book.
He whispered to himself, “The Intricate Web of Tailored Ties: Exploring the Mysteries of Stockholm Syndrome.”
It did sound interesting, at the very least.
It was incredibly odd how one moment he was holding his breath, waiting for the pull of the next adventure, seated as he was in the sleepy village nestled within Kokorogawi Island. And the next, he was lost in the sea of words and letters and explanations and everything he thought he wouldn’t care about.
Stockholm Syndrome has long been debated by psychiatrists across the Grand Line, whether to be categorised as a mental illness or as the result of unexpected intimacy borne out of desperate and dire situations.
These arguments reflect the natural difficulties in understanding how a victim of crime may have inadvertently developed emotional attachments to their captors.
Ace thumbed the cover on the book, his lips pursed in deep thought. The word Ties was beautifully decorated, designed in a way that, if studied correctly, it could have been read as Lies. How fitting.
As he read, he felt a small part of his mind wander. He has had few good things in his life. He could name all the luck he has been privileged enough to have on one hand. It was only recently that he had added the Whitebeards to the list. He cared for them. There was something in the manner they attended to him that slowly infused this odd curl of warmth in his very bones. Like the way Whitebeard insisted on holding him close. Or how Marco would listen to his every word, as if each was a treasure too precious to miss. Thatch, Izo, Jozu…and everyone else he had yet to really get to know- it made him afraid and excited.
He wanted to know his new crew. He wanted so badly.
But…what was this new unpleasant feeling churning inside him? The more he flipped through the pages, the more severe his frown became. The cold brushes of a nagging thought slipped through his head, strong enough to derail his earlier happy thoughts of his crew.
Stockholm Syndrome has rarely been documented across the years, though critics argue that fears of stigmatisation have deterred any potential victims from coming forward. What is generally understood of this phenomenon, however, is the anchored belief that there is a close connection between victim and captor. These connections to the very people who had put the victim in terrifying situations is, for the few recorded cases available, often strong enough that victims defend them even in court.
Many psychiatrists argue that this is reason enough to label this syndrome as a mental illness. It is, after all, perceived as atypical behaviour to see one’s captors as anything but.
Ace was interrupted by a slight cough to his side.
“I’m sorry! The café will be closed in ten minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Sora was looking at him apologetically, appearing so genuine that Ace felt slightly guilty.
He looked about the café in surprise when he saw that he was the only one left. “Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that the time was passing so quickly.”
Sora smiled at him. “You like the book then?”
“I…did,” Ace said. He glanced at the book, then the clock, then the door, biting his lip all the while. Maybe if he reserved it for the next day? He could do that, couldn’t he? He wasn’t sure why he wanted to. Something about the book unnerved him.
“I heard the Whitebeards will be here for the next three weeks, right?” Sora was asking him. Her head tilted in thought. “If you can return the book before your ship leaves, that’ll be fine too!”
Ace perked up, somewhat startled at her generosity. “Really? But wouldn’t you get into trouble?”
The waitress-cum-barista shook her head. “You’re new, I think. The Whitebeards come here every year. They’ve always been rowdy, but they’ve also always been kind.” Her grin turned mischievous. “Besides, you don’t return that book and I’m telling your Captain on you!”
The fire-user couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Whitebeard would get on my head for that.” He held the book close to his chest. “Thanks, Sora,” he said gratefully. “I really appreciate this.”
“So what were you up to today, little chicken salad with a cute little cherry on top?”
Despite his slowly plunging mood, Ace felt his eye twitch at the horrible, horrible, horrible nickname the head chef had the audacity to call him with. He stopped in his tracks, dead in the middle of the hallways leading to his room, to turn an incensed glower at the of course grinning brunette.
Said brunette must have a death wish too, when he chortled all too happily at the younger pirate’s reaction. “What’s wrong with my little blueberry muffin? You look a little…blue.”
Ace drew in a deep breath, before shooting the chef the most profound and debilitating death glare he could muster. “Are you really doing this again?” he complained.
Thatch’s dark eyes seemed to twinkle. He threw an arm around the younger pirate’s neck and began dragging him along. “Come on, I’ve wanted a little brother for years. When you came along, it was like my prayers were finally answered. Surely you understand why I’m so fond of my pesky little pie.”
“As creepy as it is to be given nicknames after food,” Ace said dryly, “I’m the youngest. You have other younger brothers older than me that you can annoy the hell out of.”
“But you give the best reactions.”
“What? Like setting that stupid volume of hair on your head on fire?”
Ace observed with mild interest how the older man actually paled at the threat. Not that he would have gone with it, but knowledge was power, right? Besides, he’d heard what the others had said about this particular commander. He wasn’t the strongest of the 15 commanders, but he held the unique ability to remember every move an enemy made once, going so far as to break it down into steps that he could counter with his own. Enemies often underestimated him for his jovial attitudes and easy-going smiles, but it would prove a deadly mistake as he, and Ace quoted, “danced as well with his twin blades as he does with the kitchen knives”.
But Ace also remembered how Thatch was described as the most soft-hearted commanders they had on board. He cared to a fault, and he always went out of his way to help soothe his family’s worries. And if this sometimes manifested in poorly planned pranks or unflattering jokes, no one protested. Not really.
“You wouldn’t do that…would you?” Thatch was laughing, the arm around Ace’s shoulder rubbing at the teen’s neck like a gentle headlock.
Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you going to make me all the food you keep calling me?”
Thatch opened his mouth as if to throw a rebuttal when he paused. The slow smile blooming across his lips lit up his face in delight. “Of course I will!” he declared. A second later and he frowned. “Although it might taste weird. I’ve never actually made blueberry muffins before. They always sound so artificial… Or you know, a pesky little pie.”
Ace was unable to keep his own smile from forming, but he did roll his eyes. Honestly. Luffy would love this man. “You could always cook part of yourself, couldn’t you? You’re pesky as it is,” he said as he shoved the arm off his shoulders and quickly walking ahead.
“Hey! That’s mean.”
“Whatever, you old’ chicken and beef pie muffin salad.”
“That’s not even a real food!”
Ace politely (in his very humble opinion) tolerated the incessantly loud Thatch as they both made their way down the corridor. He wasn’t quite sure yet if the man was following him or was just going the same way, but he couldn’t deny the small tinge of amusement at his odd antics. It reminded him of his youngest brother. Luffy never understood social boundaries and personal space. He did whatever he liked. Except Thatch wasn’t as selfish as his kid brother. This pirate shared his food and he always ensured his crew members were well fed.
“Hey, what’s that in your hand?”
Ace started, suddenly remembering the quaint little book he had tucked under his arm as he returned to the ship. An unexpected burst of anxiety shot through him at the thought of revealing the book’s contents to his crewmate, so surprisingly intense he took a forceful step back from the other older pirate. To his credit, Thatch had frozen in an instant, his curious expression morphing into immediate composure, as if he somehow knew he had crossed some boundaries.
Ace swallowed in the sudden silence, his throat not quite working, as his mind scrambled for an explanation. Not that there was- he didn’t even know why! The discomfiting feeling beating in his chest was nowhere near gone and he couldn’t pinpoint why he was so afraid of Thatch lunging forward for the book.
The chef must have sensed that no answer was forthcoming. An easy smile stretched his lips and, just like that, his hardened features brightened. It was almost scary how one expression could calm the fire-user so easily. “Sorry about that,” he said cheerfully. “I sometimes forget that we all need space.” He tilted his head towards the kitchens. “I’m going to make some of that food you asked for. Want to come along?”
Ace blinked away what might have been surprise at the change in topic. “Uh no,” he laughed awkwardly. “I’m just…I was going to my room to, uh, rest after a long day.”
Thatch just ruffled at his hair and nodded, before bidding him goodbye.
Now the teen was confused, guilty, and somehow mad at himself for his behaviour. He turned his attention to the innocent book in his hand. What was that?
“You know, your arrogance will kill you one day.”
Marco – the Commander of the First Division to the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard – only tilted his head in that annoying way of his, as if seriously contemplating his words, as if the very act did not drip with condescension. Deep cerulean eyes met his, guarded and unblinking.
“I can see why you’d say that, yoi,” he said, the words rolling of his tongue with practised ease. As if he was discussing about something as trivial as the weather. “I won’t deny we can be too complacent at times. I’ve told my siblings many times to watch their back better.” He sighed. “They never listen.”
Ace won’t deny he was taken aback by the words and the easy admittance. What was he to say to that?
Marco continued to regard with him that same intense look. The younger pirate had the feeling he was meant to feel at ease in the other man’s presence, in the way the commander carried himself purposefully with a calm air of assurance about him, in the way he tried to look harmless. Ace was not fooled in the least.
“With the kind of example you’re setting for them,” he found himself finally saying, “you’re not actually surprised by that, are you?”
“What kind of example am I setting?”
“Not just you. Your captain, the rest of your commanders.” The teen pursed his lips. There was no need to explain anything. Why did he even bother? But he did somehow, as more words were drawn to his tongue. “You may think I’m weak, but I’m an enemy nonetheless. You bring me here onto your ship, leave me free to roam as I please, and you try to befriend me.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know how anything else could spell ‘arrogant’ to me more than that.”
“Like I said, I can understand why you’d say that, yoi,” Marco answered. “But if believing in the orders of our Captain is arrogance, then so be it. If our faith is that weak, then we shouldn’t be a crew at all.”
Damn the man for always having something to say. And it couldn’t have been a simple short answer, no. It had to speak of grand philosophical things that Ace never liked to think about.
“So you’re arrogant, lame and stupid,” Ace muttered. “Way to convince me to join the crew.”
A soft chuckle greeted his ears. “You’ll turn around some day.”
Ace’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “You don’t know that. You don’t even know me.”
Marco’s rugged yet handsome features slowly shifted, and quite suddenly he looked every inch the smirking, over-confident commander that the teen had first seen. “You don’t know that either, yoi. You seem the type to be arrogant, lame and stupid enough to join us, after all.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You’ll be here long enough to see what I mean, little firefly.”
Ace squared his shoulders, little bursts of fire flickering over his shoulders. “I won’t ever join you, Whitebeard,” he hissed. “Not even in your wildest dreams.”
Ace blinked as he stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. It was an odd experience, remembering how, mere months before, he had been so full of hostility towards the crew. To think he had snapped at them, had imagined throwing them off board, had pushed at Marco until the man stood still and silent against a wall. Now that he thought of it, he remembered the little things he had done to tear them away, to keep them from coming closer, to force them out.
Throwing Thatch’s food made specifically for him at his feet.
Ripping the clothes Izo had found for him.
Refusing to be saved when Namur came to fetch him from an untimely trip into the sea.
Snapping at Haruta to leave him out of his practical jokes, because not everyone was trying to be a child.
Punching Marco and screaming to be let go because he didn’t want this he didn’t want this please stop making me think I do!
Falling to his knees when Whitebeard reached out to him with his one giant hand.
It was almost disturbing as he tried to remember how he had struggled against their offer. The way he thought, the way he felt- it was a stark difference to how he felt now. He wouldn’t have believed him if he travelled back in time to tell him of the future. How did you explain that your feelings changed?
But…why did it change, he wondered. At which point had he begun to see the Whitebeards as potentially friendly rather than as an enemy? When had he started believing they didn’t want him dead? When did he feel like he wanted to belong?
Ace rubbed at the centre of his chest, right above where his heart should be. It was stupid and ridiculous and…he turned to eye the book he had left next to his pillow. It had taken an innocent text to kick him into reflecting upon himself. He had accepted his change of heart, had decided to roll with his instincts and feelings (like how Luffy always did and how Sabo always wanted him to: follow your heart, Ace, for once listen to it!). But when he started reading the book and began to make out certain patterns through the case studies, he had developed the strangest feelings of unease coursing through him, like an insidious poison slipping through his veins.
Because Stockholm Syndrome sounded too real. It sounded just like him.
He was the victim. The Whitebeards were the captors.
Just…what was he to make of that?
Were his feelings all the result of careful manipulation? Was he being made a fool out of?
A pulsing ache reverberated through his head and he closed his eyes with a sigh. A headache. Exactly what he needed. It didn’t help that, in the next moment, someone knocked on the door.
“Ace?” Namur’s voice rang through.
Ace rolled to his feet, deciding to push aside his racing thoughts for now and to focus on the present. He wasn’t going to understand his head within the next five seconds anyway.
He sucked in a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and opened the door with a smile. “Hey Namur. Did you need something?”
The commander gave the teen a lookover (probably an unconscious reaction, the teen was sure) and offered a sharp-toothed smile in return, surprising the younger pirate. It wasn’t that Namur never smiled. He had overheard a conversation that the fishman felt self-conscious with the way his teeth jutted out. He looked threatening, and he hated to feel threatening to his family.
Ace found his smile turning genuine.
“You weren’t at breakfast today,” the older pirate started. “I was passing by your room and thought I’d check in on you.”
“Oh. I just, uh, well, I just woke up,” the teen admitted sheepishly.
Namur’s grin stretched wider. “I can see that. Well, glad you’re doing okay, Ace. I was worried you got into a fight with Marco again.”
Ace blinked. “Why would you think that?”
“He looked exceptionally concerned this morning when you didn’t show up. And he looked guilty.” Namur shrugged, though he didn’t lose that glint of mirth in his eyes. “You know how he is.”
Ace thought back to his conversation with the blonde the day before. It couldn’t be that the man felt bad about denying him his request to join them, could it? That would be ridiculous. Even Ace in all his stubbornness understood the rationale behind the decision.
“Huh. He’s a weird guy.”
Namur snorted. “Aren’t we all?” Then, in a gesture that was equally heart-warming and awkward, the fishman lifted his hand and patted the teen on his shoulder. “Well then,” the man said in an attempt to re-spark the earlier easy-going air, “I’ll leave you to your breakfast. Thatch saved something for you, but I’d imagine Marco would come looking for you soon enough if you aren’t quick.”
Ace nodded, opting for a quick ‘thanks’ because he was no genius at making conversation either. When he closed the door, his heart now thumped with a steady beat, working to ease the warmth of contentment warring with the ache for acceptance in his chest.
He loved being remembered, and he was quickly realising how much he still felt left out. But the Whitebeards were trying and…his eyes were drawn back to the book on his bed.
Really, what were the chances anyway?
“How do you even remember everyone?” Ace complained. He glared at the names he had scribbled across his palm that morning, after he had been accosted by a harried blonde commander, who then had proceeded to disappear into seas-knew-where.
Izo calmly bit into an apple by his side, glancing at the names for a moment before smiling. It was the time Ace liked to call Post-Breakfast Snack, because he was certainly not eating enough and there was no way he’d let that secret out for all to know. Though he couldn’t help the little runs to the kitchens and feasting hall for more every one to two hours. The crew assumed it was normal for a growing kid (they have never had a crewmate as young as him, and the next closest had at least a ten-year-gap, surprisingly) and generally indulged him with those stupid goofy smiles.
“There’s over a thousand of us. It will take some time, of course,” the kimono-clad pirate answered after he swallowed a bite.
Ace paused as the implications of the statement sank in. He slowly turned to stare wide-eyed at the commander. “You don’t mean to say everyone remembers everyone?”
“I wouldn’t say that…” Izo trailed off as he thought about it. “Oyaji and Marco are the only ones who knows each one of us. Doesn’t take them more than a second to recognise a crewmate, no matter how long they’ve been away. And you’d imagine it would be difficult to maintain a crew if you don’t remember who they are.”
Ace couldn’t help the flinch at this. He imagined being forgotten – of all things – after the rollercoaster ride of emotion he had suffered through before joining them. He didn’t think he’d survive the resulting hurt if Whitebeard or the commanders he had come to know forgot who he was. That…wasn’t possible, was it? What if they sent him to one of their smaller ships and he’d have to stay there for years? He remembered his earlier doubts about the crew. That their ideology of family was too idealistic, too impossible… Maybe he wasn’t too far off the mark, was he?
Unaware of his thoughts, Izo continued, “The division commanders are required to know everyone in their division, of course. We are charged with their protection and well-being, and it’s easier to do when we know they are. And motivation is a very strong factor.” He took another bite. “Marco’s really the only one who worries over each one of us as if we are in his division. He can’t help it, it’s part of who he is.” He paused and suddenly threw the fire-user a smirk. “So, be understanding if he hovers, alright? He’s a little anxious since we’ve never had anyone so young.”
Ace almost crossed his hands before he remembered the ink on his palms. He scowled instead. “That’s just weird, okay? You guys keep talking as if I’m this weird other species you’ve never interacted with before. I’m just a little younger than you’re used to.”
Izo covered his mouth, as if trying to hide his amusement. “Try to be understanding, won’t you?” he said between muffled laughter. “You’re younger than us. That means how you see things aren’t how we see things. We don’t want to hurt you or offend you by accident. We’re just being a little more careful.”
“Just be the way you are, it’s not that hard! I made a choice when I joined you, didn’t I? I’m not going to fall to pieces just because we have different opinions,” Ace shot back exasperatedly. Honestly, was it that hard for them to understand? Like, sure, their careful attention made him want to hide his face in his blankets, so they wouldn’t see how red his face became. How he’d feel this building curl in his chest that had nothing to do with his fire that somehow made him want to break into stupid smiles, that he resisted with all his strength. Well, sure, it wasn’t a bad feeling, but…it didn’t mean he wanted it.
Ace was still scowling at his hands when he realised Izo was watching him with what might have been mild surprise.
“I know,” the man said after a moment, the inflections in his words somehow strange. He reached out an arm to rest across the teen’s shoulders before dragging him into his side. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t want to take care of you. You’re our youngest now.”
Ace just slumped. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said. It was just easier to resign himself to losing this argument for the rest of his life. “The novelty will run off soon enough, or at least until the next one who’s younger than me joins,” he commented offhandedly. The teen missed the brief frown that flashed across the commander’s countenance at that, as he refocused on the list of names scrawled over his skin. “What do I do about this then? Who the heck is Samy from third division? And…Hoshi…from second? Asaha, Manta-kun? Why is there a ‘kun’ at the end? How am I supposed to find them when I don’t know who they are?”
He stopped his griping when a hand lightly brushed at his hair. He turned to see Izo leaning forward to look at the names proper.
“They are the ones you shared a room with before you set your bed on fire, Ace. They were your room mates.”
Ace immediately flushed. “T-that was an accident,” he mumbled as the same shame coiled within him. He had never been as mortified at himself as he had that night when he had had a bad dream. He was never loud when he had nightmares, but something about the horror of that night had crossed into the world of the living somehow. His agitated state had sensed danger, and that was all it took before he sent a burst of heat into the room. And then his bed caught fire.
Whitebeard had made it clear he was to have his own room from then on. That, or he shared with Marco. Who was fireproof. Marco had surprisingly looked okay with such an arrangement, not at all bothered by the possible intrusion into his private spaces, but he had also been the one to refuse the silent question.
“I don’t think Ace would be comfortable with that, yoi. We can give him the room he used to have before he joined us officially. He’s used to it, and we can work on remodelling it if you’re agreeable.”
Whitebeard had snorted before sending them both off with that ever-rumbling laughter of his.
“I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled as he hunched further.
Izo nodded along. His grin didn’t once falter. “I know. Don’t feel bad about it,” he said as he gave the teen a side-squeeze. “So, Marco wants you to look for them so you will have company if you decide to go to the island these few weeks. It’ll be a good experience. You’ll get to meet more of our siblings and there’ll be the celebration to look forward to together.”
Somehow, Ace’s instinctive thought slid back to the book sitting innocently in his room, waiting for his inevitable return. He shouldn’t want to read it anymore. It made him feel unpleasant things. But, despite his misgivings, a part of him wanted to know more…to confirm that it wasn’t true. That, even if it was, it surely wasn’t him.
Ace snapped out of it when Izo nudged at him.
“Are you alright?” the commander asked in concern. “It’s hard meeting people for the first time, but you’ll have to soon enough.”
The fire-user bit his lip. “I know. I just…I was kind of thinking of…staying on the ship.”
As he expected, there was a look of genuine surprise before Izo shifted to look more alert. “Why? Did something happen?”
“No, no. Nothing, I just…” Ace frowned. “I don’t know. I saw this book in town yesterday and the coffee lady let me borrow it while we’re here.” He averted his eyes, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I wanted to read it… But you’re right. Meeting new people is important and I should take this opportunity to-”
Izo put a finger to his lips. “That’s alright,” he soothed at what must have been the increasing concern growing in the younger pirate’s voice. “We are here to relax, and if that’s what you want, that’s fine. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”
“But what about Marco..? He even gave me their names.”
“Marco was worried you’d be lonely. Just let them know if you won’t be coming with them, alright?”
Ace looked between the kimono-clad pirate and the names in his hand. He could still think about it, right? He found himself slowly nodding in agreement.
And once again, the teen was so focused on the subject that he missed the fond look thrown his way. If he had known better, he would have thought the commander was rethinking their earlier conversation- that he really was the youngest among them.
“STOP IT!” Ace felt the words rip from his throat so suddenly he thought blood would spurt from his mouth. “STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”
Thatch stopped in his tracks, his brown orbs blown wide in surprise. His hands shot up in an instinctive gesture of calmness. As if he was placating a small child. Or a wild creature.
Ace backed up a few steps, his feet stumbling back until his back hit the closest wall. An instant sense of claustrophobia washed over him as the very air around him seemed to close in on him. His heart began race, his palms felt clammy, and sweat began to bead on his forehead. “Stop it,” he gasped. He gripped at his arms and- oh, he was trembling.
To the commander’s credit, he had regained a semblance of calm within that second of the teen’s distraction. His shoulders went relaxed, his arms still spread in a gesture of peace, and there was this sharp but comforting look in his eyes.
“Ace,” he said the fire-user’s name as if it had been dipped in honey, “it’s alright. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”
What? What was he saying? Did he think Ace would care if he were here? Thatch kept repeating the same words with that odd, slow inflections anyway.
“Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it,” Ace kept repeating. Darkness inched into the edges of his vision and he tried to shake it away. Regret immediately filled him when he was struck with a bout of dizziness.
His confusion deepened when Thatch was standing before him, when a moment ago he was standing far, far, far…
Thatch touched him on his shoulders, his fingers curling gently around him. “You’re alright,” he soothed. “I’m here. It’ll be okay. Just breathe. I won’t leave. Just keep breathing.”
Ace choked on a breath. Maybe it was his string of unfortunate fate, but the next thing he knew, his knees were failing and he was sliding to the floor. He would have crashed too, had the brunette not tightened his grip on him, guiding him to lean half on the wall and half on the man, gasping all the while like a caught fish in fishing net.
“No no no,” he moaned into the chef’s white top. “Stop it. Stop…doing this, please, I ask it of you.”
Fingers brushed at his hair. “Just breathe,” the warm voice said again. It trickled over him like water. “Breathe, Ace. You will be fine.”
Ace tried to blink even as his vision swam. What was happening? What was going on with him? “Stop it,” he whispered. “Don’t. I don’t want to.” Something rubbed against his arm. The teen let out a soft whimper. “Stop making me feel…this way,” he pleaded because this couldn’t happen. This was never what he wanted. “I don’t want any of you,” he said between choked breaths.
“Shh…it’s alright. Just breathe.”
Ace felt like crying. “Please.”
It was the second week that the crew had docked at Kokorogawi Island.
All the commanders and the senior members of the crew had been put to work. Once Marco and the scouting team had deemed the labyrinth safe enough for their upcoming celebration, near everyone else began packing all the things they needed to feed a party of over a thousand pirates to last late into the night and into the early hours of the morning.
Ace wanted to be excited too. He wanted to join in the enthusiastic chatter and revel in being part of something so exclusive and yet so huge. He wanted to ask after all the traditions he’d soon be a part of, wanted to dig through the odd little decorations the crew actually took the time to make (which showed how big this celebration was; they never bothered with such things), wanted to explore the island, wanted to do so many things.
It was almost disconcerting how quickly one could change one’s mind.
Rather than jittery excitement that had him bouncing (that was how Rakuyo had described it) across the ship, he only felt a sense of nagging fear at the back of his mind.
Though he had told himself he wouldn’t read the book anymore, he couldn’t help it. That night after his conversation with Izo, he had determined to go to bed and forget about it. He loved being here. Why pay attention to something that threatened that?
But the moment he had walked through his doors, his eyes immediately drawn to the item, he found himself picking it up like bees to its queen. He had decided to return the book to Sora the next day, then the next, then the next…
Why was he doing this to himself?
These fears had manifested in nightmares that recalled his earlier days on the ship. Some were convoluted versions of his memories, but Ace didn’t think he could tell what was true and what was not anymore.
It didn’t help that his ‘odd’ behaviour was fast gaining attention. The commanders were hovering, and more members of the crew were asking after him. Even Whitebeard seemed to watch over him more, his amber eyes thick with concern.
Or maybe to keep an eye on you, a voice whispered in his head. Like a captor would-
Ace dug his fingernails hard into his thighs. He was lucky enough he was sitting cross-legged on his bed. No one was there to catch the blood that seeped from beneath his grip. Because they would care, he told himself. They were genuine.
…right?
No matter how much he doubted his own feelings, it was impossible for an entire crew to draw up an entire hoax for the sake of one mere rookie captain. What odds were there that everyone was so fine an actor anyway? That Marco and his never-ending lectures were an illusion of concern? That Thatch didn’t care if he starved? That Whitebeard wasn’t bothered if he lived or died?
“You are my son now, my boy. I will protect you always. Never forget that.”
A sense of hesitant determination settled within him as he recalled the strength of that voice as he was officially claimed, fixing that which had been unbalanced for days.
A breather, that was what he needed. He needed to get out of this room, out of this ship. He needed fresh air. With that thought firm in his mind, Ace got to his feet, grabbed his bag and, in an action he still couldn’t understand, shoved the book in. He’d return it to Sora, he decided. These headaches, nightmares, and uncertainties ended here.
As Ace made his way out, he still wasn’t used to how empty the ship had become. Most were on the island, few staying behind to guard the ship. He had been assured himself that the waters around here were too dangerous and risky for any small fry to approach them. And many would be close by to defend a potential attack.
Still, he found he didn’t like how his footsteps echoed through the corridors as if he walked along what could have been an abandoned ship. There was a keen absence of muted conversations, a common attribute to a ship with such a dense population. There was no flurry of footsteps as pirates rushed about their duties, no distant yells and shouts over something no one would remember, no… There was nothing. He could barely even feel the steady rocking of the ship, not when it was docked safely along the harbour and not buffeted by the powerful waves in the open New World ocean.
Ace held his bag close. He increased his pace, wanting to be out of the unnatural space that was now his home. Something about the silence always crept him out.
It was with a sigh of relief (only for the fresh air, he told himself) that he stepped off the deck to land on the planks leading up to the Moby Dick. He would return the book first. Get it over and done with.
“Hey, Ace!”
Ace turned to see two of the pirates he had bunked with, the ones Marco had highlighted to him waving at him from the shores that laid adjacent to the harbour. One of them – Hoshi, he thought – was beckoning him to come over, his grin welcoming and expectant.
The fire-user hesitated, not wanting to be drawn away from his self-given task, then acquiesced in mild resignation. “Hey,” he said as he ran up to them.
Hoshi nodded approvingly at his quick arrival. “You holding up well, eh? Commander Marco said you might be going into the island with us if you wanted, but we’ve heard little from you.”
Ace forced out a sheepish laugh. Damn it! He forgot to tell them he wouldn’t be. “Sorry about that,” he apologised as he rubbed the back of his neck to ease the heat he knew was travelling up his face. “I got side-tracked. You didn’t wait for me, did you?”
Another pirate with blue streaks in his hair piped up: “Nah. We knew you wouldn’t be coming along if you’d be skipping breakfast!”
“Asaha! That’s rude,” Hoshi hissed. He glanced at the fire-user worriedly. “Sorry about that. He gets overly familiar with everyone.”
Ace started when he saw the genuine concern in his crew member’s eyes. Oh. He really was the worst. “No, no. I’m fine. I really don’t mind,” he tried. “I, uh, I was reading a book and I forgot about much else. It’s really on me.”
The two pirates lifted their eyebrows at the admission. They both exchanged a glance.
“A book?” Hoshi repeated.
Asaha suddenly grinned, looking a little too mischievous. “I can see why Commander Marco gets along so well with you.” He laughed. “He gets caught up with his work and his books, I tell ya. You fit right in.”
“Marco likes to read..?”
Again, the two pirates looked at him in surprise. It shouldn’t rankle him, but it did. He knew Marco hovered a lot over him since he was the youngest and, by extension, that somehow meant the commander felt the need to hold his hand. But that didn’t mean he knew Marco. The man and the others just stayed within a certain perimeter of him. Talked to him. About himself…
It was then that Ace realised that the crew rarely talked about themselves to him. When they did, they spoke of the many good attributes they had, or the milestones he should look forward to achieving with them. And they did it in a manner that was not overtly outlandish or self-praising either.
He remembered Thatch sharing his thoughts of the sixteenth commander when the latter was seen moving his division through swift, sharp orders. He had admitted to feeling a little intimidated at the display.
“That’s Izo to you. He can be overbearingly obsessive over how things are done, and he has terribly high expectations of those around him. But he’s also one of the most thoughtful brothers we have on board. He’s quick to decide someone who’s in need of help, quick to drop everything to do what he feels is right. He doesn’t spare any effort either. Just be sure you don’t destroy his hard work, eh? One of the worst things about him is his world-famous ability to hold onto grudges.”
Another memory nudged at him.
“We celebrate our milestones because such celebrations highlight our triumphs. It reminds us of our strengths, our motivations, and that we are in it together. We are not the Revolutionary Army, yoi. We are here to live life to the fullest, and we have decided doing so is best achieved when we are together. It’s why we have these annual celebrations. It’s so we let go of our failures so we may look forward to a better tomorrow.”
The increasingly familiar feeling of unease crept into him. The Whitebeards were an idealistic lot. And they only wanted to settle him into a crew as large as theirs. They probably thought he wasn’t ready for the hard truths, right?
“Um…can I ask you something?”
Hoshi and Asaha shook their earlier surprise away to nod at him encouragingly.
“Shoot!”
Ace licked his lips. “Before me…” he said slowly. “Was there anyone who rejected Whitebeard’s offer to join the crew?”
Hoshi, who looked to be in his thirties, now that Ace really looked, turned thoughtful. He hummed under his breath. “I…don’t quite remember. Asaha?” he asked as he turned to his friend. “You’ve been with the crew for eight years.”
The man in question shot him an unimpressed stare. “You’ve been with the crew for ten years,” he said flatly. He then shook himself when Ace threw him an expectant look. “We’ve had several siblings join us over the years- well, we had to, right? It’s not like hundreds of us joined at the same time.” He scratched at his chin. “I guess we had a few. I mean, we had one who wanted to travel the world instead of living a life of piracy. He caved within three days.”
“Oh? Who was it?”
Asaha jutted his finger in the direction of Hoshi. “There he is.”
“What?” Hoshi squawked. “I did?!”
“Don’t you remember? You were spouting about some dream about seeing the world. It’s not like pirates stay in one spot anyway. You’d travel the world with one of the safest crews!”
“I said no?! What was I-”
“You were out of your mind, that’s what.”
Ace felt his throat go dry as he watched the two friends bicker. Despite the seeming innocuous words, it hinted at something decidedly unpleasant- something he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to find out.
We’ll live a life of no regrets!
In a haze, the words came unbidden to his lips. “You gave up your dream?”
The two pirates paused just as Asaha was shielding his face from a mimed punch from Hoshi. The latter shrugged. “It wasn’t a big dream. Now that I remember it, I just wanted to see the world, explore, see what it had to offer, you know? Being in this crew is better. I don’t get to travel wherever I want, sure, but family’s important too, you know?”
We’ll be free!
Not even Ace had stayed with Luffy to realise his dream.
“You know what I mean, anyway, don’t you?” Hoshi said. “Why’d you ask anyway?”
“I-I was just curious, that’s all. Since I don’t know anyone yet.” A thought occurred to the fire-user. “And what of those who wants to join y- I mean, us?”
“Nah. You don’t ask to join us. You have to be invited. We have very few who asked to join and were accepted. Oyaji always put them through a really hard test, like holding on to our raised anchor for days, before letting them join us.”
“Really? Why?”
Asaha glanced at Hoshi, then shrugged. “We don’t just accept anyone. Not unless one of our siblings asked it of Oyaji.”
“And Oyaji is picky, despite how open he might look like,” Hoshi added. “He only invites those he wants, and he gets what he wants, you know?” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Ace could see at once why the man got along so well with the Asaha guy. “You know what I mean, don’t you? You joined us too, eh, despite your earlier…arrival.”
“Yeah…I did,” the teen said faintly. He did, didn’t he? He had given up his dream. All of sudden, the urge to puke hit him and it took all his willpower to force it down.
Hoshi’s face changed into concern. “Hey, you know I was kidding, right?”
Ace cracked a smile as he backed away. He could feel the uncomfortable churn rising in his throat. “I know,” he tried to assure them. “I just remembered I have something to do in town. See you guys. And thanks!”
With the rapid-fire words out his mouth, Ace turned and fled.
In the end, he had run like a coward to one of the few hills the island had to offer. He had had to climb some exposed tree roots as handholds to get to the top, his earlier anxieties fuelling him enough to send him scrambling to the top within a 20-second record. He was now seated against the roots of a giant oak tree.
He would have thought the unobstructed view over the village about a few miles to the west and the distant sea right upfront would have calmed his jittering nerves, but of course his perfect life couldn’t afford him that. Rather, he was a mess of scrambled emotions and fears and everything he could think of in his pulsing head.
Ace shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. He had made a choice, hadn’t he? He had expected to be doubtful every now and then (hell, he doubted his own existence), but he didn’t think it would come so quick and with such an intensity that it would rattle his the spine of his very conviction.
Maybe it was his string of fate. His life was a mistake. This was the world’s retribution on him for being alive.
This was his karma for choosing to live when the world had told him to die.
Or perhaps, this signalled the few good things in his life. He should have been drowned at birth, but if he must be loved, it would naturally be attached with conditions.
Like giving up his dream. Like being subtly manipulated into liking people. Like falling for the illusion of the perfect family.
Like none of it being real.
With his heart still in his throat, Ace snatched the book from his bag and began to flip through it with a speed that near tore the pages into half. His eyes scanned through the text, flicking left to right, before he stopped at one of the excerpts:
“The unique symptom of Stockholm Syndrome is the unnatural feelings of care the victim feels towards the captor. This includes, and is not limited to, positive emotions in the form of compassion, sympathy, affection, protectiveness, empathy, and even love. Records show that some victims have even defended their captors when brought before the arm of justice. One particular incident that highlights the extent to which victims fight for their captors is exemplified in the Kidnapping of Ann R.
Kidnapped for two years, she had refused to testify against her captor when she was freed by the marines. She had later taken her own life when her captor was executed for his crimes.”
Ace’s eyes were drawn to the next few paragraphs.
“Victims who suffer from this illness largely reject the possibility that their emotions are not real. Though some acknowledge the unnaturalness of such emotions, most insist that their captors are not beyond redemption.
Experts in this field attempt to explain this. In their studies, they have identified that prolonged exposure to their captors had instilled in their victims a sense of familiarity. Victims are often kept isolated from the outside world and have little connection to anyone but their captor.”
Ace could feel his lips tremble. It was easy to remember how suffocating and lonely it had been when he still refused to be initiated into the crew. How his insides felt pressed from lack of friendly conversation. How he felt unguarded and unsafe. How he suspected his world would collapse into darkness if he didn’t escape this imposed isolation.
“In such times of distress, victims instinctively latch onto their captors as their only form of support. Many victims admit to having struggled at first, but such efforts had eventually ceased over time when they realise the futilities of such actions.
Yet, experts draw attention to the intricate play on the victim’s subconscious that likely shaped the emergence of Stockholm Syndrome. Most kidnapping incidents are characterised by danger, hostility, threats to one’s continued wellbeing, and other similar negative connotations. But experts have identified from victims of Stockholm Syndrome that they are often treated with a semblance of kindness.
Imagine being kidnapped. You are not chained. You are given room to roam about. You are fed and you are even given clean clothes to wear. It does not change the fact that you are still locked in a room and are not allowed the freedom to leave. But you do receive a degree of kindness in an environment that has robbed you of much else.
Experts believe such incidents begin to nurture in victims a sense of gratitude towards the captors. They begin to shed their earlier misgivings and begin to forget the origin of their present situations. In fact, when victims begin to calm, some captors respond by providing more leeway, such as allowing them to roam the house or to even take walks about the park. In summary, they begin to view their captors as their only pillar of support.
This, coupled with a human’s natural desire for social interactions, may have framed the victim’s perspective into viewing his/her situation in a more positive light. It may perhaps be the only way to cope.”
With a shaky breath, Ace finally tore his eyes away from the cursed book. He closed it shut with a resounding snap, not caring in the least that he had to return it in good condition. It had brought him nothing but despair, after all.
He dragged his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs in a poor attempt at comfort. A slight breeze stirred the air around him, but Ace felt no peace at all. There was nowhere to hide but within his own arms.
There was no way about it, was there? That very excerpt he had read again and again over the past few days might as well have been a description of his own life. He had been kidnapped by Whitebeard. He had been forced to stay as he was constantly assured that he would join their family, no matter how long he’d railed against it. Not once was he chained down. They even gave him access to their weapons’ and training rooms.
He brought up the memory of how Izo would shove clean clothes into his arms. How Thatch would bring his food to his room. How Marco would coax him into conversation, even held him close when he broke down near the end.
They were kind to him in a way no one had ever been before. They tolerated his mercurial moods, his harsh tongue, and the untamed rage of emotions that coursed through him that so often manifested in short tempers and curt words.
They openly said they cared.
Something deep and painful tore inside him. It felt as if something had collapsed to leave behind a chasm of echoing disbelief and growing resignation.
Maybe, maybe he should have listened to the world when he had the chance.
Maybe he should have drowned himself first chance he got.
How was living like this any different?