I still remember the day I read about Ace's death. Although I tried to keep up with One Piece afterwards, I soon lost interest. So my knowledge of One Piece is pretty much limited to what happened up to Marineford. I've wanted to write an One Piece fanfic for a long time, but I couldn't hold onto one idea long enough to write something. Then this plot bunny just hopped into my head one day and won't leave me alone! So here it is :)
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1. An Encounter

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When Ace opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a grassy riverbank. There was no sound of battle, no brothers and sisters fighting for his and their lives, no admirals with murderous intents – nothing. Nothing, except for a gently flowing river, soft grass field dotted with wildflowers, blue sky with puffy clouds, and a boy.

A boy. A boy that was skipping stones.

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Plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop, plop.

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The stone skipped for an impressive number of fifty-something times before finally sinking to the riverbed.

As if sensing Ace's confused stare, the boy turned around and his face broke into a brilliant smile.

"Oh! Fi-nal-ly! You came!"

The boy rushed to his side, his pile of pebbles forgotten. The boy's childish features somehow seemed weirdly familiar, in a way that you sometimes feel when you look at old pictures of your parents when they were around your age. The boy had unruly jet black hair that framed a cherubic face with a splatter of freckles. His silvery grey eyes were bright and mischievous and his mouth was stretched into a wide, toothy smile.

"You, you are—" Ace stammered, struggling to form a coherent question. The small boy didn't seem to care.

"I'm Ace! Nice to meet you, the other Ace!" The smaller Ace stretched out his hand, his eyes folding into smiling crescents.

"O-okay," Ace clasped the outstretched hand almost out of reflex.

Little Ace made a move to pull him up, but then let go of the hand when Ace was about midway up.

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Thud.

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Ace fell backward and landed in an ungracious heap.

"Ow! Damn it, you little—"

"Haha, you're slow! Are you sure you're me? Come on, get up! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? Come and play with me!"

"What the hell were you waiting me for? And I'm not your babysitter," Ace grumbled as he pushed himself up. He'd so get the little brat for this.

"Ha, excuse you," Little Ace said, "and here I was waiting for seven years just to give you another chance at life. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Mom and just crossed the river when I first got here."

Ace stopped. There were just too many things to process in that short two sentences. Another chance at life? Seven years? And wait, did that brat just say—

"Mom?!"

"I know right?! I saw her for the first time too! She's so much prettier than the picture! But I only saw her once though, on the other side of the river. Oh, and Roger. But he just stood there and cried, totally useless," Little Ace rolled his eyes, "but Mom said that you'd be coming here to take my place. She asked me to wait until then to cross the river."

Ace looked over Little Ace's shoulder at the river. "What's so special about the river?"

Little Ace gave him an incredulous look.

"You're kidding right? That's the river that splits the land of the living and the dead. Why are you so dense? You're older than me!"

"Shut up! I didn't excitedly grow up going to school," Ace muttered defensively. He knew he was pretty ignorant and lacked commonsense, but it irked him to have it pointed out like that. Nonetheless, he gathered the most important piece of information from the brief conversation. It seemed like he did die. Perhaps it was a small mercy that he did not see anyone else on this riverbank. Hopefully it meant that other people made it out of the battlefield safely.

Little Ace took in that piece of information. "Well, how did you grow up? Mom said that we lived in parallel universes, so your situation was kinda different from mine."

"You're the genius, you tell me," Ace grumbled.

Little Ace rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time. It seemed like a pet habit of his. Ace wondered where—or whom—he picked it up from, because he sure as hell did not have such an annoying habit.

Little Ace plopped down in front of Ace. "Fine, I'll tell you my story first. Roger asked Oyaji – that's Whitebeard – to look after me and Mom before he handed himself over to the Marine. He apparently thought about asking Garp instead, hiding things in plain sight and what not, but thought again at the last moment. So I grew up with Oyaji and my siblings on Moby Dick. They're my family. Marco, Thatch, Izou, Jozu, and everyone," Little Ace said, his voice soft and his eyes taking on a faraway look, reminiscing.

"Well, I guess that's where the difference begins. In my… universe, Roger entrusted me to Garp and he brought me to East Blue after I was born. I grew up there with two brothers, Sabo and Luffy. I guess you have no idea who they are. Man, you missed out," Ace shook his head. His mood grew somber as he thought of his younger brother he left behind. He sincerely hoped he survived the battle…. "Long story short, I set sail when I was 17 and ended up taking on Whitebeard's mark not so long after I made the Grand Line." Ace conveniently left out the part where he attempted to kill Whitebeard for a hundred days straight. He had a feeling that the littler version of himself would not appreciate that little tidbit of information.

"Oh, that makes things easier," Little Ace clapped his hands in delight. "Tell you what, let me just show you."

"Show me what?" Ace was apprehensive. The whole situation did not make any sense.

"You'll see!"

Little Ace stood up straight. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose in deep thought, and then stomped his right foot twice on the ground.

Suddenly, the riverside faded away and the two Aces found themselves in a room.

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Small Ace is more childlike than Ace was when he was around that age (ten), because he grew up in a loving environment without all the bullshit about the sin of being born as Roger's child. Importance of family environment, really.