Hi everyone!

Finally a new chapter for this fic. Oops. I may actually take longer for this than I had thought, unfortunately. I will be starting full-time employment soon, and with the whole situation over the pandemic, it seems I will soon have a lot less time than I had thought I would have to write. :(

So let's hope I can squeeze as much as I could within the next few days, eh?

Discussion at the bottom of page. Do read if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.

Singularly Focused

How large a ripple could one person make, Ace had once asked himself when he was young.

As he had lifted his eyes to gaze upon the wide and endless expanse of the seas at the edge of Dawn Island, that same question had reverberated through his childish mind. It brushed at his thoughts the same way a snake's poison would slip and taint the blood of its victim, insidious and slow.

What was one person in a world with so many other people? His mind would sing.

It would rise and fall in a melody that screeched at his ears, until it climbed and peaked with a crescendo that screamed and screamed. Why was he alive?

Why?

Why?

Why?

For all the questions, he found no real answers. He didn't find them when he lived with his brothers, nor did he in the nooks and crannies of the Grand Line. Paradise was only an empty title. And thus far, his life with the Whitebeard Pirates had recently been a dramatic headache.

But, surely, in a crew of over a thousand pirates, one person would not – could not – make much of a difference.

Ace believed in this. The veracity of this statement rang in his bones and he lived it as the unyielding truth that it was. It didn't matter how strangely he behaved for as long as he didn't stir up any more attention-grabbing situations. He was one person, after all. One insignificant new rookie to the crew. Why would he be a cause of concern?

It was in this steadfast belief that Ace went about his business on board the Moby Dick, his thoughts distant and his mind heavy. He trudged about his tasks with a disquieting air about him, and not once did he consider his odd behaviour attention-grabbing or concerning because he was just an additional face to the crew. He was new, yes, but new did not equate to something special. His heart had screamed at and resisted this understanding, but the teenager was no fool. The idea that their care and affection was built upon false premises hurt him deeply, but it was not as profoundly heart-wrenching as believing himself expendable. This was a truth he had known all his life. The commanders had taken an interest in him because he had been strong enough in the eyes of the World Government to have been offered the position of Shichibukai. Then, he was foolish enough to go after Whitebeard. It was a string of odd palpitations along a linear path of piracy. Now that he was one of them, their interest was bound to wane. When Portgas D. Ace was unpacked and examined closely, he was only just Ace, after all.

It was with that another-thought-in-the-coffin truth too that Ace thought nothing of the increased attention he was gathering as the days went by. He dismissed their questions after his well-being with a wave of his hand as he helped clean the deck. He only nodded in absent-minded attention when he was elbow-deep in dishwater. His smiles were strained in refusal when he was asked to join in card games and pranks.

The fire-user didn't know what it was that plagued him in that week. If he had to describe it, he would recall a faint but unyielding block in his mind that separated him from everything around him. It was like standing on the edge of the precipice as he watched the world spin past him. A tiny part of him wanted to rush headlong into that beautiful mess, but there was an invisible immense force pinning him in place. Ropes he couldn't see wrapped around his arms, torso, and neck; held taut with a tension he didn't have the energy to break.

It was what Ace called his off days, except this time, he somehow knew he was in it for the long haul.

Perhaps it was that cursed book or maybe it was seeing his rising hopes for…what was he hoping for? Maybe it was seeing his life with the Whitebeard Pirates crushed between the pages of a scholarly book that had him reeling in dismay. As he watched in his mind's eye the brilliant red that dripped off the edges of old parchment, streaking it as dull a brown as his own dull life.

So Ace didn't bring himself to care when the whispers turned into verbalised concern. He stayed in his cabin when he could. He would sit cross-legged on his bed, his arms on his lap, as he waited in silence for the off day to switch back on. His throat would close up as he breathed, choked on stale air, and it was only then that it would occur to him to open the windows. When he did, he wished he had taken the time to get some fresh air. At some odd hours, the teen would meander about the island. Slip away from the crew so he could go on his own and without their insistent supervision. He would suck in the crisp morning air greedily. But as he revelled in the world around him, his mind would stray back to his room, to the comfort of the four walls, and then his feet would quietly bring him back, engulfed as he was in confused relief and ragged disappointment.

He was not, however, allowed to skip on meals.

"If you don't turn up for even one more meal, Ace," Thatch had said as he towered over the teenager at the kitchen sink, "I will drag you there myself." The fire-user couldn't escape his gaze. Not without abandoning his dish-washing duties. While Ace was neither here nor there, he was always committed to fulfilling his obligations. The commander had taken full advantage of his. His dark eyes were narrowed in determination, and there was a stiffness in his jaw that made even the fire-user wary.

When Ace met his eyes in confusion, the commander seemed to deflate, as if he was unable to keep up his stern posture any more than he had to. "I can't stand the idea of my family going hungry," Thatch said quietly. "It's best I tell you now while you're new to prevent any misunderstandings. I can't stand it. I hate it."

The man fell quiet and Ace realised he was waiting for a response. "Oh, alright," he said. Nodded. Agreed.

The younger pirate missed the way the commander's eyes sharpened. A beat later and Thatch's ever-cheerful voice returned. "That's great! Glad we've come to an understanding!" A new pair of arms took residence next to the teen. "Since you've made me so happy, I'll help you out with the dishes, alright? I've some dinner left for you, so you'll have more time to get to it after this."

But, despite his religious efforts to keep to his assigned tasks and remain out of everyone's way, it wasn't enough.

Marco and Thatch – the perfect brother duo – cornered him one late afternoon as he trotted in for his very late lunch. He would have eaten earlier, but he was too weary to have to deal with people. They were such a pain sometimes. He wondered if it was worth it.

The two commanders played their parts too well. Thatch settled himself across from the teen despite having so many other seating options presented by the largely empty mess hall while Marco diverted from the tables to grab some coffee. A part of Ace felt a slight chill go through him. They knew him enough that he would have excused himself to escape the first commander's intrusive stare. But Thatch? No. He would have stayed put awhile because the chef was highly capable in stabbing the sharp pain of guilt into his chest. By the time Marco returned with two steaming mugs of coffee and a glass of orange juice, it was too late to make a run for it.

How terrifying, his mind that was full of suspicion whispered. They were truly gifted in the art of impersonating brotherhood, or they truly believed this lie.

Another part shrieked: It's not a lie!

"Didn't you heat it up?" Thatch was asking, his eyes narrowed on Ace's still-full plate. "Lunch was hours ago."

Ace summoned what energy he had in his bones to affect a mock smile of derision. He stuffed another spoonful of sea king meat into his mouth while snapping his fingers with his other free hand. A burst of flames flickered into life.

The chef snorted. "Right. I forgot about that."

"Would it even matter if the food is cold, yoi?" Marco asked as he slid into place on the teenager's right. He pushed the drinks to their respective owners. "You don't get cold because of your Devil Fruit. Would you be able to feel when the food is cold?"

Ace paused. That was a good question. "I…I don't know," he said honestly. "I just heat it up as I go that it never occurred to me to try."

"As long as it tastes good."

The freckled pirate nodded in agreement. The food tasted like ash.

The conversation soon flowed to other matters of concern. He listened in quiet attentiveness as they discussed the sorts of supplies they needed to bring into the island to their capacity to clean up after themselves if they brought along too much sake. While they did this every year, it was unwise to be complacent and assume they would be left alone from external threats. It was already a huge gamble to leave one division behind to protect the ship, but it was the sixteenth division's turn to stay behind this time. They weren't primarily made for combat.

However, though the conversation went slow and easy, Ace kept his guard up. He wasn't sure what he was afraid of, but his nerves jittered as if he was playing a waiting game. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it finally came, he was still terribly unprepared.

"So what have you been up to, Ace?" Thatch asked as he turned from Marco to the youngest pirate. "We haven't seen you around."

Such an innocuous question. So casual and easy. As if they believed Ace to be so pathetically stupid he wouldn't see what they were doing.

Ace chewed at his food slowly as his gaze flicked between the two commanders. "I've been busy," he said lamely after he swallowed his food. 'You know. I have a lot of things to do."

The corners of Marco's eyes crinkled in that familiar look of concern. "I know most of us have been busy with the preparations, but doesn't mean you should overwork yourself, yoi. And your duties you've volunteered for are just for you to have a feel for the division you'd like to join in the long run. Don't take it so seriously."

Thatch snorted into his drink. "Says the guy who takes everything seriously."

The blonde threw the chef an annoyed look. "Says the guy who can ban you from managing the kitchens for the preparations," he shot back.

Thatch's eyes grew wide in horror. "No!" he exclaimed. "You will not take that honour from me!"

"Then behave." With a casualness that could only be expected of the first commander, Marco turned right back to the youngest pirate with a sheepish look. "Sorry for your brother, yoi. He can be childish sometimes."

"Hey!"

"All the time," he corrected.

Ace couldn't help the reflexive smile that tugged at his lips. He'd always liked them the most. It would be a real pity if none of it were real. The teen ignored the brush of uneasiness and answered to the warm look in those kind cerulean eyes. "I feel very tired these days," he admitted. A good lie was grounded in truth. "I guess I'm not used to helping out on a ship this size and…my body clock had changed. It's difficult to change it to meet everybody else's."

"You've been sleeping a lot then?" Thatch ventured carefully.

Ace supposed that was alright to admit to, right? Or would he look too much like a child who needed naps? But why would their opinion on that matter, he wondered, if none of this was real? "Well…not a lot," he muttered under his breath. "I just…need to rest a bit more than usual."

"That means we're pushing you too hard," Marco said with an unhappy sigh. The man adopted a faraway look in his eyes as he contemplated ways to resolve the non-existent problem. "I don't give you any duties."

"He helps me with the dishes," Thatch volunteered when the blonde looked his way.

Ace watched in askance as the topic suddenly focused on managing his duties to ensure he had enough rest. The two were careful to engage him in their discussions, mindful as they always were to his wishes and desires. At certain points in the conversation, Marco would even push to the teen pieces of bread from his own plate when he saw Ace's supply running low. At some point his hand would sneak in to tear off some burnt pieces of toast before the teen could eat them, sometimes going so far as to slip them into his own mouth before the younger pirate could stop him. He ended one building protest with a wink.

It was a normal brotherly exchange. Full of warmth, playful mischievousness, and expertly disguised concern. It would have once made Ace's insides curl in abashed shyness, but today only filled him with the faint stirrings of nostalgia and longing. It was a real shame that affection could so easily be practised as a guise for deceit.

"How about a short break, yoi?" Marco was suggesting. His handsome features were contemplative, his fingers rubbing that slightly pointed chin that smoothed so well into that strong jaw. Ace always thought the man – the first division commander – looked absurdly out of this world. Breathtakingly powerful, relentlessly kind, unbearably wise. Reliable. Confident. The best that Ace could come up with with his limited vocabulary was: so out of his league. It was as if the position of 'Big Brother' was made for Marco the Phoenix.

Thatch's countenance stretched into an easy smile. His blackish-brown eyes regarded the freckled pirate with slight fondness. As if he knew any degree higher than that and the latter would balk. "How about it, little brother? A break after the celebrations and we could go have a little fun ourselves off-ship?" He was the playful yet grounded older brother. The one who lightened the very air with his easy-going presence. So unlike Ace, who blazed the soil beneath him asunder with rage and fire.

The two older pirates exchanged a look when all Ace did in response was to stare at them with a seriousness that bordered on worrying.

"I never said I would go on a break too," Marco finally said to break the silence.

"You'd be supervising us. It wouldn't be a break for you," Thatch said easily as he peered at the youngest pirate hard.

"Ace?"

Marco pressed a warm hand on his arm and Ace jolted out of his mulling thoughts, only to find two pairs of eyes fixed on him in concern. "Yes? I'm sorry. Did I miss something?"

The blonde had by now taken full advantage of this to angle his body towards Ace's. It was a posture that screamed of attentiveness and brotherly concern– or the application of expert knowledge on how to strengthen the ties between people. "Is something bothering you, Ace?" he asked. His voice was smooth and calm, kind and affectionate. How-how was it possible for someone to emote so strongly through mere words?

"Nothing's bothering me."

"We hardly see you about the ship these days," he said. "We don't see you unless we go for late mealtimes or when you're on-duty, yoi." The corners of his lips quirked. "I worry when you go off the grid like that. Makes me wonder what sort of trouble my siblings are getting into when they don't pester me at all hours of the day."

It was meant to be a jest, but it wasn't funny. Not at all. It sounded excessively controlling. (Funny how it was endearing just a week back.) Ace suddenly felt cornered by their attention. "That's not true," he blurted out when the pressure became too strong.

"What?"

"It's not true," Ace repeated. "You have so many siblings. It's not possible that everyone comes to you every single day. That's impossible."

Marco lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He parted his lips in momentary speechlessness before recovering a second later. "Okay, alright. I was exaggerating. But I do worry, and you're one of the siblings that I spend a lot of time with."

Right. Couldn't argue with that logic. "Oh."

A beat of silence. "Ace?" Thatch tried again. "Are you in trouble?"

Not for the first time, as the teen looked between the two pirates he had come to care for, as he studied their expressions of (genuine?) concern, he felt the familiar tug of guilt pull at his heartstrings. They each played the role of slightly distressed brother to a T. It made him crave more. It made him want to tear his brain out too.

"I…" he trailed off. "I just…" At the two's encouraging smiles, his gaze dropped to the table, knowing one look at his face would give away the partial lie. "I feel overwhelmed, that's all. There are so many people. People who know me, but I don't know them. I don't know how to deal with it."

Marco nodded. When he saw there was nothing else forthcoming, he said, "You are uncertain about your place here, yoi. You are unfamiliar with so many things, yet you call us your own. It's contradictory and it's scary, but you also made the choice to choose this. It's a difficult situation to pick apart when you feel so many conflicting emotions."

Ace pulled a watery smile at the paraphrasing. It was near ironic how close the man had hit to home, despite not knowing anything at all. "I guess," he murmured as he shrugged.

"Thank you for sharing that with me." The Phoenix rubbed at his shoulder in circles. "I might know something that would cheer you up, yoi," Marco said after another pregnant pause.

"What is it?"

Marco glanced at Thatch, and it would only later occur to Ace that they must have planned for this outcome. The chef took over with a seamless grace. "We could bring you to the labyrinth tomorrow. It's safe with us there. We'll be bringing in some logs and other essential items for the celebration. We won't put you to work if you're worried." He offered the younger pirate a small smile. "Would you want to?"

Ace waited for the excitement to rush into him, but all he felt was the expanding blankness stretching across the world around him. He didn't even have it in him to feel surprised, though he recognised with vague alarm that something was truly not right with him. But that wasn't what they wanted to hear. They wanted him to be eager and excitable. And, no matter how he doubted his emotions, he couldn't deny that he wanted this crew happy.

"Really?" he asked as he tried hard to inject some enthusiasm into his words. "You won't mind?"

Thatch looked pleased. "So long as you don't run off on your own, eh?"

Ace grinned at the words. As he couldn't reach the chef in retaliation, he instead shoved the man on his right in indignation.

Marco looked thoroughly offended. "I didn't say that, yoi! What was that for!"

Ace snickered as the three fell back into easy conversation. But inside- inside, the teen felt his heart drop as a thought occurred to him.

If he did run off, would they let him go?

He needed to escape. Right now. Immediately. Get off the ship. Run as far away as he could, throw on new attire, and change his name. Was that desperate? Maybe. But what he was sure of was the need to flee this whale ship before they could find him.

Ace didn't know what had changed over the past two – three? – months. But he was beginning to change. He recognised this shift in his heart. It had happened with Luffy seven years ago. And with Sabo a little before that. And, heck, each time he had panicked so badly he thought his heart had burst and was choking his lungs with his monstrous blood.

Never mind that he had never been as happy as he was with his brothers.

The idea that anyone else could infuse the same warmth in him as Luffy and Sabo was laughable. It was crazy. It was unacceptable.

He had to leave before his heart pulled a stupid, like convincing him to stay. Like letting him look into Marco's understanding eyes or falling for Thatch's drool-worthy food or feeling so unbearably confused yet so mysteriously taken by Whitebeard's strength and easy smiles.

He had to run before he could let himself care.

It was in this harried state that Izo found him. He was flitting across his borrowed room for things to throw into his bag. This only showed how far gone he was. He hardly had anything to his name.

"Are you alright?"

The abrupt question sent the fire-user scrambling back from the door with a scream lodged in his throat. Ace stared at the commander with wide eyes, his heart racing a mile a minute before he shook himself.

"I quit. I won't try anymore. I'll stop everything," he started rambling as he snatched at his cowboy hat off the bed. "I quit, alright? Let me leave. I want to leave. I don't want to be here anymore. I'll stop everything. I'll apologise! To everyone! Just let me leave."

Izo's lips parted in apparent surprise, and already his eyebrows were furrowing into a frown. "Ace, you-"

"I quit, alright?!" Ace repeated, the desperation clear in his choked words. A thought came unbidden to his mind and he stepped back in horror. "You're not going to let me leave, are you? You're going to keep me here, no matter what I do. You're going to force me to join you." He felt his breathing quicken. "I'd have to die before I'd be free..? Oh, I can't I can't. I quit. I quit! I don't want this!"

Before he knew it, the kimono-clad pirate was gone and in his place were the other commanders crowding into his room. He spotted a flash of blonde hair and a pair of twin swords. Someone huge and bulky blocked out the light from the door, before suddenly moving away.

Ace shook his head in rejection. The sense of being suffocated fell over him like a warm blanket under the summer sky. "I quit!" he howled, unable to take it anymore. "I don't want any of you!"

Something brushed at his shoulders, and suddenly the greying spots inching at the edges of his vision let loose, sending him tumbling into the dark.

Perhaps it was fate that finally sent down the final meteor that broke the whale's back. Or maybe Ace had always been that unlucky with the demonic blood running through his veins. Like the kid who was the special chosen one that was bullied throughout his young life in a village cut off from the world. Or the kid who always fell over his feet. Or the one with absolutely no talent. Except, for Ace, his lack of luck had resulted in his eventual birth, which then heralded the passing of his mother.

It therefore shouldn't have come as a surprise – at least, not to him – that he couldn't enter the labyrinth at all.

The labyrinth was a maze of crystal-like ice stalactites and stalagmites. It ran across every inch of the cave's ceilings, while the ground was littered with upward icicles that threatened to pierce unsuspecting visitors through their unprotected feet. The cave was apparently nestled deep enough below the island and close enough to the sea that inches of ice and, miraculously, snow coloured the already breath-taking cave a glowing white. This was compounded by the faint glimmers of sunlight that filtered through the tiny, gaping holes in the seemingly sky-high canopy. It presented upon the pirates the magical illusion of sparkles dancing in the air, a refractory effect that completely dazzled one fire-user.

The beginnings of a light-heartedness that had begun to take root in Ace's sluggishly beating heart was thus crushed when his party caught sight of the growing puddle about his feet.

"We have to stop, yoi," Marco finally said, his gaze trailing over the melting ice and snow that lay thickest at Ace's person.

Ace's shoulders drooped in resignation. His control over his fire was still poor enough that bursts of heat still emanated from his being every now and then. They couldn't risk letting him in when he could single-handedly drown everyone in accident. And potentially destroy the place of their annual celebrations. Maybe he was wrong, he distractedly mused. Maybe one person really could affect a large ripple effect across the oceans. Except, he would have majored in screwing people's lives.

"Hey, don't be like that. We'll find a way to fix this," the blonde commander soothed. He brought his arm up to rub at his shoulder in an attempt to comfort the younger pirate, but all Ace felt was the sinking realisation that, once more, he was going to miss out on something important. Fate, fate, fate...

"Yeah, right," he muttered, kicking at the stupid water. "Guess I'll help guard the ship when you guys celebrate in a few days."

Marco shook his head. "I have an idea, alright? We'll get you in there with the rest of us. Just leave it to me." Behind him, the rest were nodding emphatically. The blonde turned to the chef and nodded his head at the rest of the party. "Lead them in first, won't you? Ace and I will return to the ship first, yoi."

Thatch cast the quiet teen a worried look. "Sure," he said cheerily. He patted the freckled pirate as they walked past, some calling out something encouraging to boost the visibly deflated pirate.

It soon turned out that the blonde's grand idea was a sea stone ring that would lock his fire power up until they reached the clearing for the celebrations. It would be temporary, the commander insisted, as if wearing sea stone for a Devil Fruit user was a mere accessory. As if the accompanying vulnerability and imposed exhaustion were nothing but fabled tales. Before he knew it, Ace was shoving past Marco for the door, the word 'No' on his lips, as his mind screamed at the sheer audacity of the suggestion.

"It's a ring, Ace. It's not handcuffs, yoi," Marco called after him. His voice had since grown low and quiet. Like a predator readying itself for the first signs of defence.

It was too bad Ace had never backed down from a challenge. Would never too. Keep true to yourself, his mind whispered in approval. "I don't care. I'm not wearing it!"

Marco only looked unimpressed at the argument. "How will you join us for the celebration? We hold it every year."

"Did it occur to you that I'm capable of improving myself?" Ace pressed a palm against his chest to reinforce his words. "That, just maybe, I'd be in better control of my fire by this time next year? That I could walk in just fine without having to submit myself to sea stone?"

Instead of immediately retaliating with a scathing reply, the blonde's lips thinned in controlled displeasure. He regarded Ace for the longest moment, as if contemplating the best way to get the younger pirate to understand him. As if pondering upon the best way to shape Ace in his shadow.

Ace felt his hackles rise at the thought. Mayhap it wouldn't have turned out so bad if he weren't already suffocating in self-doubt and insecurity. In a different world, he might have taken the suggestion more flippantly. Might have slipped on the ring to see how it would look on his person. But that world was not his. His was riddled with bad luck.

"Don't look at me like that," he hissed. "Don't look at me like that." He sucked in a shaky breath when Marco turned wary. "Don't look at me like I'm something to fix. I won't change for you– for anyone! I may be lacking, but you don't get to force me to change for you!"

The Phoenix's countenance shifted from confusion to shock before it blanked, a clear sign as any that the man was working to rein in a rise in his temper. Ace had never seen it personally himself, but he'd heard the whispers from the crew. Marco's anger was like a rise in the waters– a displacement of the sea that no one notices until the waves surge over them, quiet and intent for the kill. Ace faced that same anger now. He suddenly felt small and anxious at the idea of being washed away. Thrown away.

Marco's jaw locked. "I understand," he said, "that my method of suggestion would make you uncomfortable, yoi. Being tied to sea stone drains you. It exhausts you, and you'd feel even more vulnerable than you already were without your powers. I don't want you to go through that pain. I don't enjoy you or anyone of my family going through that." He paused and narrowed his eyes, as if waiting for the teen to truly listen to the truth of his words. "I suggested this as a temporary solution. We would bring you to the clearing. We would remove it, and then you'd have to wear it again when we leave. The family will be you the entire way."

Ace took a halting step back when the blonde suddenly stalked forward. His height (why was he so short?!) towered over the teen, casting him in shadow as hard cerulean eyes pressed down on him. The Phoenix only stopped a step away, but the younger pirate could smell the faint scent of mint and cinnamon peppering his senses. His neck craned to look the man in the eye.

"Or is it something else entirely, yoi?" Marco asked quietly. "Perhaps your anger stems from a lack of trust. Did you think us incapable of protecting you? Or…did you think we would turn on you the moment the ring is on your finger?" His voice turned as cold and harsh as the winters on Mt. Colubo when Ace paled. "What did you imagine, Ace? That we would cuff you and hurt you when your fire is locked away? Did you imagine us knocking you out when you weren't looking? Tie you down with more sea stone as you struggled beneath our hands, yoi? Maybe put you up as a sacrifice, as a symbol of our power, during the anniversary? For everyone to see and everyone to brand?"

The descriptions, uttered so nonchalantly (so painfully), sent Ace reeling. His mind's eye worked in overdrive as he vividly pictured the brutal images in his head. He saw the way he would succumb to their careful deconstruction of his sense of self, how they would destroy the entire foundations of his self-worth with one simple betrayal.

Marco must have seen the horror in his eyes too for the blonde's mouth shut with an audible click. A look of sick disgust crossed his face. "You are afraid of me," he said after a succession of three deep and even breaths. "Four months of building a sense of brotherhood between us, and this is all it takes to break it." He stepped away. "Looks like I hit the bull's eye, yoi. You really don't trust us."

Ace recoiled at the sharp accusation in those words. "T-that's not fair!"

"Is it?" Marco shot back. "What sort of person did you think I am, Ace? You think so little of me you would believe I'd hurt you at the drop of an anchor. You'd turn on me out of sheer distrust." He tossed the ring in his hand to his table, where it landed on the desk with a sharp clink, only to roll and fall to the floor. Neither pirate looked to see where it ended up. "Why did you even choose to join us? If you can't even bring yourself to trust that we are here with you, yoi?"

"Trust you? I've known you only a few months. I barely know any of you!"

"Then get to know us!"

"I need time!"

"Time?" Marco repeated almost incredulously. "You mean time to ignore all of our attempts to get to know you? Time to avoid us whenever possible? I see you, Ace. I see you and I see that you're struggling, but you can't even bring yourself to even trust the one person you've been with the most on this crew. How could you even begin to trust everyone else?"

Ace tugged furiously at his hair at the back of his neck, for once feeling a rise in emotion that he had not had in days. "You wanted me to – oh I'm sorry, suggested – that I use sea stone, I didn't want to, and now you're mad at me. I'm sorry if that doesn't exactly inspire trust that I'm safe here when you'd rather force me to submit than respect my damned decision!"

It occurred to the freckled teen that he had never seen a look of incredulity warring with fury shot his way from the usually impeccable man. That shift in expression was all it took for Ace to re-calibrate his understanding of the commander. The stiff way he held his shoulders, the clench in his tightly closed fists, as if preventing himself from throwing a punch or two at the source of his frustrations. The very worst was the flickering disappointment in those steely blue eyes. In that moment, Ace felt as if a vast expanse of distance separated them from each other. As if steel pillars sprouted between them to lock Ace forever away from the once kind and indulging disposition that Marco tended to take with him.

"You don't want the ring, yoi. That's fine," Marco said flatly. "I would have respected that if that were all it was. I hear you loud and clear, Ace. You don't trust us the slightest bit. It's one thing to not trust us with your secrets, but it's another entirely when you believe we'd intentionally hurt you in your moments of vulnerability."

Ace swallowed. "That's not what I said," he protested weakly. He reached up to touch the man on his arm, the way he had taken to doing when upset, but froze halfway when those same hard eyes flickered to his hand. He let it drop with a gulp. "Marco…"

"This isn't going to work if you think we'd jump you whenever convenient, yoi."

"I…I just…I just need time," Ace said weakly. "It takes time, Marco."

For the longest moment, neither pirate said anything. The Phoenix kept his gaze on the teen, his eyes guarded and assessing, as if he were trying to look through the younger pirate's very soul.

"I know we fuss over you because you are our youngest, yoi," Marco finally said after another few more minutes ticked by. "We indulge you. We hover. We can be overbearing even. We do it not because you need it, but because we can, and we want to. But that–" his voice turned hard again – "doesn't mean we are looking to babysit. I didn't think you were the kind to make flip-flop decisions, Ace, much less one as big as joining a new crew. If joining us was a mistake, then grow up and decide. Don't take it out on us just because you don't know what you want, yoi."

Ace sucked in a deep breath. He felt his throat dry when Marco shot him a look of mild disdain before telling him in no uncertain terms to leave his cabin. He did so in silence, not quite registering the clenching ache in his heart, nor understanding why he felt so torn by the man's cold stance. The feelings only amplified when the door slammed shut behind him.

…

Stockholm syndrome.

Even if he didn't have it, it was frighteningly easy to connect the captor's characteristics to the crew's. Captors often threaten to remove their offered mercies in incidents of disobedience, after all.

And Marco's kindness had long been the merciful balm to his wretched heart.

Ace would have been unappreciative a few weeks back had he had to do night watch alone, but that night, he was grateful. His head was too heavy with milling thoughts, like a congested sea harbour that had too many ships going in and leaving port. A night alone would do him good.

If it weren't for his Devil Fruit powers, the teenager would have frozen to his bones by the time he clambered onto the crow's nest. He readily ignored the thick blankets set out for those on duty and instead rested his back against the wooden pillar that supported the lookout post. Few pirates were out on deck, what's with the heavy preparation for the much-awaited anniversary in a few days.

Ace watched as his breaths swirled into a mist of pale white smoke. Part of him wished to embrace the cold and he even imagined seeing that white steel ring adorning one of his fingers, when he had to shake himself from going down that road. Winter and snow were beautiful, but deadly, he reminded himself. The nights at Mt. Colubo and the Grey Terminal said it all.

Despite his best efforts, Marco's words skated through his head, the heels of its metaphorical steel blades digging into his mind with the incessant timed skrrr skrrr skrrr. So maybe they were manipulating his emotions. It didn't make that knowledge any easier to bear when someone so kind to him had turned on him with such contempt. Though it wasn't as terrible as he'd feared, he supposed. In his nightmares, that contempt manifested into blows and almost always ended with a daggered heart. The end that the son of the late Pirate King rightfully deserved.

Ace rubbed at his eyes as he stretched his feet across the little expanse of space. He eyed the bottle of sake he had swiped from the kitchens with quiet consideration before sighing. What the hell. Without another thought, he flicked off the cap and took a long swig. He winced at the burn as the alcohol ran down his throat.

"Take to the seas, take to the skies, take to the world and let yourself fly…" he sang softly under his breath. It was an old song he had heard the bandits back home sing as Dadan shouted out orders at them. They would sing, off-tune and in untimed beats, until his primary caretaker had grown sick of the 'noise' and would beat them over their heads to 'shut their trap'. Ace remembered their happiness as they sang and their disappointment when they had to stop, but he'd always thought the tune had something distinctly mournful about it. Like a yearning for something more for life to give. Like a waiting game that had no players and no end.

Look at you. Singing on your own with sake in your hands. Whatever happened to you?

Ace didn't even blink at the sudden high-pitched voice that rang through his head. Instead, his lips stretched into a small smile. Hearing that familiar unimpressed voice always made him feel like home.

"So…" he dragged the word out unnecessarily, already feeling the sharpness of his mind blurring away. "What do you think? Am I crazy?" He barked out a laugh. "You already think I'm crazy, what the hell."

A soft sigh whispered at his ears. For all the stupid in your head, at least you know that.

"That's mean, Sabo! You're supposed to make me feel better!" Ace complained. He pulled his hat off his head and rest it against his lap. The blue smiley and sad faces stared at him.

I can't do that. You have to do it by yourself.

"Of course I have to," the teen retorted. "You went and died. What the hell can you do?"

Probably not read a book and then doubt my entire existence, that's one thing. Why do you do this to yourself, Ace? I thought you knew what you wanted.

Ace's chest wanted to burst into laughter again. Such a funny thing to say. "I thought I wanted to be Pirate King. I thought I wanted to prove to myself that I'm bigger than that guy ever was. I thought I was strong enough. That changed. And, now? I thought I found people I could be with for the rest of my life, who shared…who I could share my life with. And maybe I was wrong." Ace rubbed the rounded edge of the sad face. It looked really, really sad, he thought. Maybe it wanted some sake too?

Because the book told you that, imaginary Sabo said flatly.

"It's an academic book, Sabo!" the fire-user defended as he took another swig. "I wasn't reading some fiction book about dinosaurs or something."

I won't say there's no validity to its research, but it was also explicitly argued to be a theory. There's no hard evidence that it's real. A pause. Though I'm not surprised. Out of all of us, you've always had that nasty habit of overthinking. It's sure to leave you confused one of these days.

"I'm confused because it's confusing!"

Remember when Luffy didn't hug you one morning and he always does, and you thought he didn't care if you lived or died anymore? When, really, you were the one who shoved him off because he was a 'bother'. He just didn't want you to be annoyed with him. You, on the other hand, spent two entire weeks sulking without bothering to even speak with Luffy to clear the air.

A light flush that had nothing to do with alcohol bloomed on Ace's cheeks. "He was embarrassing me," he muttered under his breath. "I was a kid. What did I know?"

And Marco? He wasn't embarrassing you.

Right. Even an imaginary Sabo was still true enough to his character to have the nerve to bring that up. "Why the hell are you bringing him up…" he muttered.

He's important to you.

"So is everyone else."

You've always been terrible at lying, but this is just sad, Ace.

Ace pressed his lips together in answer. So Marco was more important to him than everyone else, but it was only natural, wasn't it? Building ties with others weren't easy. The blonde had just…always been there for him. With his big-brother-smile and big-brother-concern. Like a dream that was meant for anyone else but himself.

"He's always been good to me, Sabo. He makes me feel like my existence is important. Not like–" Ace sniffed hard at the sudden thickness in his throat– "I'm a burden or something."

There was another sigh. You want them to care for you. There's no shame in wanting to be loved.

"But what if it's not real, Sabo?" he asked in a small voice. "What if it's all fake? What if we wake up one day, and they decide they've acted enough to keep me here? What if they pull it all away?" Ace clutched at his cowboy hat tightly. In his chest coiled all his fears that had slowly curled inside him over the past weeks, gathering, hardening, turning to stone.

Oh, Ace… Don't cry. Please don't cry.

Ace blinked hard but it was to no avail. The tears that had filmed his eyes dripped to his cheeks, some turning to mist when it touched the heat of his skin. "I don't want to live like that, Sabo," he whispered. "With them, for once, I wanted to be happy."

Ace… Marco meant his words, Ace, but I don't think that means he hates you. I didn't like a lot of things you did. Like the way you'd yell at us when you were afraid. Or the way you walked away when Luffy cried for you. Or how you left me to Garp last time he visited us. I couldn't walk for weeks.

"I'm horrible, I get it. What's your stupid point?" the teen snapped.

It didn't mean I didn't love you, you moron. You shouldn't be so quick to assume that everyone thinks the worst of you. They accepted you when you were hellbent on their Captain's head. And they've done nothing to prove you wrong. Why do you feel the need to doubt their sincerity?

Ace shifted slightly, not wanting to answer.

Ignoring the question doesn't help you, you stubborn idiot.

The fire-user exhaled. For all that Sabo was a figment of his imagination, he knew his memories wouldn't be betrayed by a changed brother who suddenly wouldn't harp on his every mood. He chucked down a few more gulps of sake. "Please. If you were here, you'd drag me off the ship even if I wanted to stay." His right hand lifted to rub at his tattoo. "You'd accuse them of brainwashing me or something. You'd tell me it wasn't real."

You bet I would have, the voice agreed indignantly. I can understand why they'd want you, but no brother of mine should be pressured into joining a crew, much less someone else's family. I would have let them sink without regret.

"See?" Ace pointed out. "Even you feel the same way."

Sabo didn't answer him for a moment. I don't care how kind they are to you, Ace. That doesn't erase what they did to you. But – there was an indistinguishable noise that sounded a lot like frustration – that doesn't mean I'd stop you from returning if you decided you wanted to come back.

"…really?"

You're in charge of your own happiness. I would never stand in the way of that.

"So noble," Ace whispered. And it truly was. While Luffy was the most selfish person he had ever known, Sabo had been the most possessive. Obsessively, even. "So you'd let me go to them without another thought?"

A snort. In your dreams, moron. I'm not going to risk Whitebeard's wrath only for you to turn around to return to him. I'd keep you away for a few months to sort your stupid emotions out.

Ace felt himself go still. "What would that accomplish?"

Didn't you read the book? Not all victims of Stockholm Syndrome suffer its effects forever. Some do, but some grow out of them and realise that their feelings were borne out of distressful circumstances. They understand how their feelings were nurtured into care for the captors. Pull them away for a long enough time and these feelings sometimes fade. Of course, some can't shake off caring for someone no matter how time passes or how much distance is put between them. Like how I'll always love you and you'll never let me go.

"So…if I leave, my feelings will disappear?" the teen said slowly. He imagined leaving the Moby Dick, perhaps for forever, leaving everyone and everything behind. How was it that a mere few months in his life could leave such an indent in himself? Just thinking it made him feel ill.

Maybe? Or maybe you'll find out if your feelings were real in the first place. It's all conjecture, Ace. Stockholm Syndrome isn't even registered as a real mental health problem. Nobody really knows everything.

"Why don't I just burn that cursed book and be done with it?"

Because that book really cursed you, the voice was flat and utterly sarcastic. Ace always knew Sabo would have made fast friends with Marco. What do you have to lose?

He'd lose precious time with the Whitebeards. But…

Ace. The cherished voice turned serious. You've lived in doubt your entire life. Do you really want another? You're looking for signs that it's not real even now.

…

You promised to live without regrets.

Oh. That was right. For the three of them, that's what it all came down to, in the end.

If Sabo were real and in front of him, Ace would have launched himself at him to hug him tight. Though he would have anyway if Sabo had done the nice thing and just remained alive, but life was miserably unjust that way.

And as if the imaginary Sabo knew his job was done, that beloved voice that made him long for home faded into silence, leaving only the low whistles of a light breeze tugging through his untamed hair. Ace peered at the blanket of night sky above him. Nestled within them were the tiny, blinking lights that guided sailors home.

A familiar ache pulsed through his chest.

He whispered, "No regrets."

The rest of the week passed in a haze.

A considerable part of Ace desired more time alone– desired that odd familiar comfort of four walls, a measure of darkness, coupled with warm blankets and a bed. But armed with the keen knowledge that these may be the last times he spent with the crew, he found himself mingling more often with them. He pushed aside his discomfort and doubt and allowed himself to indulge in the careful attention thrown his way. Even if it weren't real, it wouldn't matter in a week.

It was with this thought firmly rooted in his mind that he also began to reach out towards the commanders. He was more familiar with them, and the thought of losing them sent an ache pulsing through his heart. (Though, with all his feelings, it was a wonder his heart was still beating.)

Sometimes his resolve grew weak. When he watched his crew mates play card games, the strength of the crew behind him, he wondered how life would be like without their cheers and rambunctious laughter. He had grown so accustomed to it despite the short months that he would spend in that moment focusing on the pitch and frequency of each individual laugher, trying hard to commit it to memory. As if his concentration alone could help him absorb the very environment into his soul. It was even harder when he had their meals with them. A simple affair, but one that revolved around easy conversation and daily catch-ups– all centred around his favourite three times of the day. And at night, when he was alone, Ace would sit upright on his bed, head cocked, as his eyes trailed over the small cabin he had made his own– from his cowboy hat flung over the dresser table, to the slight stain on the far right wall after a tussle with Thatch over napkins, to the blankets Izo had one day shoved into his arms when it was discovered he slept without the comfort of one, to everything he could set his eyes onto.

Ace would breathe in the air about him, focus on each of his senses sharply, and try his absolute best to remember. Because one day, all of this might not be his anymore.

It was at times like this that he would wonder if it was worth risking his place amongst them by leaving, even if on a temporary basis. It had become startling clear to him that he did care for them. The Whitebeard Pirates brought out in him a certain vulnerability that he couldn't deny. They made him long for their attention. It made him feel good. Even if his feelings were…nurtured into this, it didn't make his affection for them any less genuine. It sure as heck didn't make it easier to bear.

You've lived in doubt your entire life. Do you really want another?

No, he didn't. Sabo was right, imaginary as he was. Ace would be happy here, he would think. But that self-doubt and doubt in the crew could never be swept under the table. There would be times during which his insecurity would flare up like a beacon in marine-infested waters. He would become frustrated with himself, he would withdraw, and then the same old dance would repeat. He – and the Whitebeards – deserve better than that. And like Marco had said, they wanted a brother, not a child to look after.

He needed to do this.

While the Whitebeards prepared for their annual celebration, Ace prepared to leave. He contemplated on his options. He couldn't just jump ship. He wouldn't be welcomed back, no matter that his back was emblazoned with the captain's mark. He'd have to tell Whitebeard, but what could he say? 'Hi, sorry, but I've got to leave cause you're making me feel loved and I don't trust that'? He would normally ask Marco for guidance, but the man had been keeping his distance since their fallout, his disposition neither hostile nor welcoming. Not that he thought Marco would take the topic lightly. It did soothe a tiny part of his heart, though, when he not for the first time caught the man looking over at him, silently contemplative. This implied concern was the only reason Ace eventually found the strength to totter towards Whitebeard on the eve of their celebrations.

"Hi…" Ace trailed off as he peered at the massive form of his captain. Despite his three months as a crew member, the teen still felt a sense of awe and wariness whenever he laid eyes on the giant man. It always struck him just how feared this man was, how much of a legacy he represented to the world of piracy. Somehow, that same man had bestowed upon him the title of 'son'. Like Marco, Thatch, and everyone else, a man of Whitebeard's calibre was terribly out of his league.

Whitebeard's immediate response was to smile warmly at Ace, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight at his son's approach. He leaned over the side of his chair to look at the teen properly. "Ace, my boy. You haven't spoken to me in weeks," he commented. "I've missed telling you stories."

Ace couldn't help the flush in his cheeks. "I didn't want to bother you," he muttered. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can I-can I talk to you for a bit?" he asked quickly before the man could pounce on his earlier comment. Whitebeard never missed a chance to recollect his earlier days as a young pirate to all who would hear it. Ace might be the only pirate on the ship who loved to hear all of them on repeat.

The Yonko regarded the freckled pirate for a brief second before he nodded. "Come, my boy," he said as he stood up. "It looks like you have something you'd rather share in private."

Ace trotted after the man into the Captain's room. It was as huge and cosy as it had been since he was last in here. With a flick of his hand, the fireplace roared to life, casting over the occupants a light, brownish glow. Whitebeard nodded at him thanks. He then gestured at the purple armchair next to his bed, the one Marco tended to favour despite his repeated attempts to deny it.

"Now, what is it you have to tell me, my son?" Whitebeard asked as he settled himself on his bed.

Son… Would this be the last time he was called that? Ace tucked his hair behind his ears. He had thought this through. He needed this more than he wanted it and had readied a speech even to argue this case. But, under the weight of the Yonko's gaze, he found that no more than a choked breath could pass his lips.

Whitebeard must have sensed his hesitation. "There is no need to be afraid, my boy."

Ace huffed. "Don't I?" he said to himself.

"No," Whitebeard said firmly. "Trust in your decision to come to me. Trust in your faith that I will do you right."

The fire-user sucked in a shaky breath. He leaned on the strength in that voice and its words, for once ignoring the nagging thought that it was all a product of deception. Summoning what courage he had inside him, he began to speak.

The words began in stutters, but soon he was weaving his thoughts and feelings into something comprehensible. The minutes ticked by and not once did he lose his Captain's attention. The man's amber eyes were fixed on him and him alone. It made him feel relief and afraid all at once.

By the end, as if like a black shadow, Ace pursed his lips shut at the dawning realisation of what he had done. The man would let him go, force him to stay…or strike his head off his shoulders for daring to voice his desire to leave. Though he'd likely lose the fight if it came down to the third option, at least he'd know he had made the right choice. He'd be dead before that sting of betrayal could sink in anyway.

Whitebeard regarded him in silence. He looked neither angry nor judgemental, but who was Ace to know the sort of thoughts a man like the Yonko had? Ace only wrung his hands, almost trembling, as he waited for the inevitable judgement from the Yonko.

"This is something you feel you need?" he finally said.

The teen flinched at the sudden booming voice. "U-um, yes, sir."

A look of sadness crossed his captain's face. The man patted the younger pirate's chin with his fingers. "Look at me, my boy." When Ace raised his head to meet his eyes, Whitebeard continued. "There he is," he rumbled. "I am your Captain and your father, Ace. That you call me 'sir' implies I have not done my duty well enough." He leaned forward to study his youngest son carefully. "I don't pretend I understand your troubles. But, if you feel this is something you need, I will let you go. Only–" he held up a finger– "if you promise to return to us once more, no matter how far in the future, even if it is to tell us we would be parting ways indefinitely."

"That's…it?" Ace said slowly, somewhat stunned. "You'll just let me go?"

The Yonko's smile was sombre. "It is what you wish. Though your old man would appreciate a call every now and then. Just to know that you're alright."

The teen nodded. "I…I can do that."

"That's my boy."

Though Ace could barely believe it (is it really Stockholm Syndrom if he was allowed to leave?), the conversation turned to discuss his future plans and his impending departure.

"The seas here are rough, Ace. If you leave tomorrow, you would be on your own in the New World waters. No." The Yonko shook his head with a frown. "I cannot allow that."

"Then I'll stay on the island. Marco said they have citizen ships moving in and out this harbour within the week. I'll head out from there."

"My mark will not protect you. Since you wish to be unaffiliated with any crew while you sort yourself out. Do you understand what that means? This is not like before. You will be alone."

Ace hesitated. "I'll keep myself out of the papers," he offered. "I'll return to Paradise if that makes you feel better."

"We would be too far away if you needed assistance. What if you were to bring your former crew with you? My heart would rest easy if you were not alone."

His old crew? Deuce and… Ace didn't deny the idea brought him a sense of relief, that he didn't have to be as alone as he could be, but…no. He had brought them to the New World and then forced them to stand by as he dealt with his earlier issues with Whitebeard. They deserved better than to have their lives uprooted once more for his sake. He also doubted they would want to. He voiced his thoughts aloud.

Whitebeard sighed, looking inexplicably proud yet exasperated all the same. "All right then. This is my final proposal, young man. You're not giving me many options. I respect your need to get away, but not at the expense of your life. Are we clear?"

Ace nodded meekly at the stern words.

"Good. You may leave tomorrow during the celebrations if it is your desire. Stay on the island until you can find a safe way off and then leave the New World as soon as you can. The further you are from these accursed waters, the easier I would sleep. Stop by our protected islands at all costs and give us a call each time you reach an island, and once before you leave it. Do this until you reach the first island of Paradise. And, Ace," Whitebeard stressed, "no matter your feelings, please let us know if you are in need of help. We will be there."

As the older man spoke, Ace felt the same old warmth bloom inside him. Maybe, at the end of this journey of self-discovery, he would return and stay. There was always hope he was making a big deal out of nothing.

"I promise, Oyaji." At the Yonko's look of surprised, he shrugged, pretending his face hadn't reddened like a tomato. "At least just once…I wanted to call you that." He looked away. "Just in case."

A snort. "You can call me that anytime, you brat."

Before the crew could leave for the island the next night, Ace drew on the reserves of his strength to bid them goodbye. He watched, quiet and strained, as all but the sixteenth division moved towards the island, their backs turned towards him. Under the glare of the emerging moonlight, the Whitebeard Pirates looked dangerous and yet so silly with their uproarious laughter and the occasional calls to quiet down.

Ace was even pleasantly surprised that many of them balked to wait for him when he made no move to follow. Pirates he had never spoken to stopped to wait for him and some even attempted to push him along. It was only Whitebeard's grace that they left him alone without much fuss as he shoo-ed them away. The man's amber eyes looked kindly upon him, tinged as it was with regret and something else Ace couldn't identify, before he too clambered down the ascension bridge to join the others.

Ace couldn't, however, refuse himself from sneaking into the crowd to throw his arms around a surprised Thatch. He held onto the man tight, his eyes clenched shut as he breathed in the strong scent of spices and sea salt, only letting go when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him in turn.

"What did I do to deserve this grand honour, eh?" Thatch asked as he laughed.

Ace smiled brightly at him. "Have fun at the celebration, okay? Partly for me too."

The chef rubbed at his hair playfully. "Come with us," he urged. "We'll take care of you."

Ace wondered how much Thatch knew, but there was no judgement or anger in his eyes. Only that calm acceptance that stood still and proud amidst the roughest seas. It was so easy, he distantly thought, to dismiss the fourth commander by virtue of his easy-going personality. But truly the man was a force to be reckoned with.

"I can take care of myself, thank you," he retorted. He had done so all his life. Why didn't he want to now?

"Aren't you one stubborn little brother," Thatch said as he shook his head, digging his fingers in to drag against the younger pirate's scalp lightly.

The teen pulled back and shoved at the hands in his hair, laughing as he did before he scampered away. He could feel as he did Marco's gaze on him. The man hadn't been too far, after all. Like everyone else, Ace had learnt, the commanders were just as human. They strayed to those they were closer to the same way Marco was often always near the fourth commander. The same way Ace always preferred being near him.

Ace felt the nagging urge to turn and do the same to Marco too. Hold him tight because, the next time they met, they might not be brothers anymore. But the blonde man had said he wanted a younger brother to fuss over, not a child to look after. So Ace wouldn't draw near despite the clench in his chest. Someone of Marco's calibre deserved the best and now that Ace knew what 'best' meant, he couldn't force the man to accept the version of a brother he didn't want in the first place.

Once the freckled pirate had somewhat settled the incessant urges to say goodbye in the only way he could without giving himself away, he returned to the top of the ascension bridge, against the Moby Dick's railings, and watched the Whitebeard Pirates leave him behind. It took a minute – maybe even five – before he could gather his breath once they were out of sight to run to his room. He picked up his packed bag and slowly dragged himself by his feet out. Relished in the moments of walking through the Moby Dick as his home. Trying for the last time to suck in the air of companionship, of trust (however twisted), and affection.

When he hit the deck once more, the air felt frigid and cold against his skin. So unlike the warmth from mere moments before.

No regrets.

"No regrets," he whispered as he jumped off the large vessel to land on his feet.

Ace turned back only once to give the ship a once over. Then, without a backward glance, he slipped into the dark.

And that is all for the second chapter. Is it too confusing? I'm not very certain.

Minor thoughts on this chapter:

This chapter reflects Ace's own narrative of his thoughts and feelings. He's in a bad place of confusion and is highly prone to the indecisive fickleness that are typical of teenagers. One moment he's suspecting everything they do as a symptom of Stockholm Syndrome, and the next he's fixating on how out of their league he is as both a brother and pirate.

Besides being an unreliable narrator, this chapter also seeks to show how singularly focused he is on Marco and Thatch. They are the brothers who had welcomed him on board and he's drawn to them especially because of this imposed familiarity as well as their ability to connect well with each other. Personally, I feel they get along so well because Ace is an older brother himself. Ace can understand to an extent the sheer responsibility an older brother has, and so he may be in a better position to empathise with the two commanders whenever they enforce the rules (Marco in his typical strict manner and Thatch in his easy-going, but immovable way). It might perhaps be the same way Ace manages Luffy, a mix between harshness (because Luffy is, let's admit it, impossible to take care of if you don't impose hard boundaries on him) and letting the little things go (because Luffy would have taught Ace the value of the more important things in life). While the three of them may be unaware of this, it could potentially be this common thread of being an 'older brother' that connects them so well. While Ace is very young still, he was forced to grow up too quick and he did raise Luffy like a parent would a child.

To the original point, however, Ace in this chapter had fixated on the two commanders' features. Their looks, their height, their scents. His desire to keep them by his side is so overpowering he loses himself often in his attempts to etch them in his memory, thus the excessive descriptions. Because Ace loves deeply. He loved Sabo and he never got to see him again. This could be his own subconscious way of preventing the same mistake.

As for Sabo's appearance, it really was meant to show how, at Ace's most open and vulnerable state (when would he ever openly admit he loved?), he still turned to Sabo, his past brother.

And yes, for those who noticed, Ace was so focused on deciding to leave he forgot to return the book to the café lady.

I know I usually don't spend time writing my thoughts per chapter out, but recently I've the urge to understand and dissect what I write and for what purpose each segment is for. Indulge me, eh?

With that said, please leave a review and let me know your thoughts! :) Your feedback and comments are always so encouraging.

P.S. Can you imagine this entire chapter was supposed to have been part of Chapter 1?!