Title: Two Chances to Thrive

Author: AppleL0V3R

Beta-reader: N/A

Fandom: Naruto and One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace and Haruno Sakura

Other Characters: Whitebeard pirates

Summary: He had a second chance. They both did. And he was going to make damn sure they made the best of it. Sequel to One Life to Live

Word Count: 1,220

Rating: T

Type: One-shot – Complete

Genre: Crossover, Canon-divergent (One Piece), fluff, friendship

Warnings: Mentions of major character death, spoilers (for both series)

Disclaimer: If you've heard of it before, then it's obviously not mine.

Started: October 30, 2016

Completed: November 28, 2016

Note: I sincerely did not expect the immediate response I got for the first drabble, but I was inspired to add to it. It's not more plot, but hopefully it helps complete the first part. I still might turn this into a full blown story if I can piece together a full-fledged plot (if only because I can think of a whole bunch of titles to call the sequels). Also, this one took a bit because I procrastinate terrible and it was longer than I expected—mostly because it got away from me (I was trying to continue the style of the first and it just…didn't. Ace apparently just does whatever he wants even in the hands of a fanfic writer). Please excuse the cheesy levels of fluff that lie herein, and enjoy.

Strange as it was, he had the sense of déjà vu—or maybe he was just reminded of the time Pops had kicked his ass and then offered him a place on his crew. He was certainly sore enough to parallel the occasion. Snorting to himself, he glanced around the small room that was designed specifically for a division commander aboard the Moby Dick. His favorite hat, the one he had sailed out to sea with for the first time years ago, was sitting atop the nightstand well within arm's reach of him. Rather than snatch it up, he stared at it.

Who had retrieved his hat for him?

While it did not hold the same sentiment as Luffy's straw hat did to the young pirate captain, it was still Ace's hat that had been with him the entirety of his voyage.

When the itch to move forced him out of his thoughts, he lifted an arm. Found it altogether feeling a little banged up but nowhere near as heavy as he thought it would be. As it should have been.

Oh, but by that line of reasoning, he should be dead.

And yet, besides the dull ache in his muscles and the wariness in his bones, his blood pumped steadily in his veins and his heart beat a healthy rhythm in his chest. He was alive. By some miracle he had lived through the nightmare that had been his life for the last few weeks. He had survived Akainu's magma fist. He had another chance to make the most of his life.

He had wondered—in the back his mind, like a low-level whisper—his entire life if he deserved to live.

If he did not, would fate have conspired to see him live through something that by all rights should have killed him? No.

His next breath come a little easier than the last, and he wouldn't fool himself into believing that it was just his body healing itself. It was a weight inside finally falling away after nearly two decades of pulling him down. Smiling at the epiphany, one that arguably meant more than the hell called Marineford, he decided to push his luck and sit up. The wince was automatic, the protest in every cell of his body expected, but over all, it was more like a dull headache that refused to abate but did not bar him from functioning properly.

He was awake and felt up to the task of being up and about for a while. Might as well let the crew know. No doubt that see it as reason to celebrate, and he kind of hoped they'd take it easy with the backslapping.

Smile growing at the thought, he snagged his hat and placed it on his head as he made his way to the door that would lead directly on to the main deck.

The response, once the crew members milling around and working on things realized that he was indeed up and about, was near instantaneous. The person nearest—one in his own division—was quick to snatch him up in a bear hug, and for the next several moments there was nothing but cheers and laughter and overlapping voices as he got pushed and pulled around the crew. He almost marveled at the fact that he managed to get all the way across the deck with his feet barely touching the ground with the way the Whitebeard Pirates seemed to simply hand him off to each other.

It was Pops who put an end to making him feel like everybody's favorite teddy bear—though naturally the captain did not see fit to do so until after everyone on the ship had gotten a turn it seemed. And he was hardly surprised when it ended with a bear hug from the giant of a man himself. Still, he could not find it in himself to complain at having his tender internal organs squeezed until they felt like they had burst and liquidized inside him.

They were all alive.

Oh, there was no denying the causalities that they had taken. However, for the most part they had come out of it a little worse for wear but capable of recovering almost completely. More than having his own life, he figured that was an even bigger miracle. And that was more than enough to be grateful for.

Once Pops had set him back on his feet, the festivities began in earnest and he could see the ships of their allies pulled up alongside them as close as they dared to share in the merriment and celebration. The crew reflected smiles all around—tinged with the grief of loss but not by any stretch bitter about this moment right now. And he smiled back at them, intent on participating just as wholehearted as the lot of them.

But first.

He glanced around the deck, certain that the person he sought would not be too far. Though after a moment, one in which his captain caught on and nudged him towards the starboard near the net of ropes attached to the stern mast. With a 'thanks' thrown over his shoulder he made his way towards the woman who had made it possible for him to live through the ordeal. She had a small smile and was watching him with curious verdant eyes.

She had been a silent support for much of the time she'd been with him—unfailing in her ability to aid him. If he was being honest with himself, he owed her so much more than his life. In quieter moments, he could not help but wonder why she had chosen to give him such stanch loyalty. Especially since she refused the title of pirate and declined to join the crew even when Pops told her to.

When he got to her side, he half expected her to downplay her role in the events that the he'd been told were being called the Summit War—that was just what she did. She preferred to fade into the background, to stay on the side and watch the crew rejoice rather than celebrate right alongside them. Not because she did not want to belong, but because it was her habit to avoid attention.

Not this time. He was not letting her get away with reasonable excuses or expert distraction.

Rather than give her a chance to even open her mouth, he reached out and yanked her into a hug. She huffed out a laugh and her smile grew as she prepared to say something—no doubt an order to put her down or a tease at his actions. Again he allowed her no rebound time when he pulled her close and kissed her silly. He could hear the crew whistling and shouting and being the pain in the ass bunch they were wont to be on such occasions, but he was paying more attention to the way she stiffened in his arms end her eyes widened.

Crazy woman would explain away his affections if he was not perfectly clear with her.

He figured that was okay, given his propensity for straightforward bluntness. No matter what else happened, he was not giving up a shot to live his second chance with her. Starting right that second.