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There was no tiny little whine of pain at having his ear pulled but Ace’s lips and eyebrows both twisted in an expression of more than mild inconvenience as Emil lowered him for what he was sure would turn out to be a flick to the nose, a poke to the cheek or some other idiotic thing like that.
Instead, Emil, while choosing the aforementioned part of Ace’s face to pester, pecked it, making his expression soften as if by magic. A kiss was far from being an idiotic thing… and it was more than Ace thought possible, coming from her.
“Woah, easy there!” Ace joked, palms of his hands lifted to put an end to the madness, as though Emil was being too forward when in fact she was simply being sweet and thankful. He chuckled. “That’s the first time I’m kissed by a fishlady, you know?”
A cupcake wasn't enough for 'that bastard'. An apple pie topped with lots of whipped cream should do the job. Like a pitcher throws a baseball, Emil threw this pie, aiming at Ace's face. // you were nominated by some random birb to have a cupcake to the face.
For once - just once - Emil’s penchant and natural talent to inconvenience friend and foe alike proved itself both useful and delicious.
Ace smelled the pie before his eyes spotted it - by the scent alone he could tell it was perfectly round and golden under the huge cloud of cream. Smelling good foods was one of Ace’s very own natural talents.
She could, however, have chosen a better way to deliver the dessert other than throw it as though it were a baseball. Though sporty and outdoor activities were another of Ace’s skills, there was not much he could do to avoid being hit in the face with the whipped cream and a ‘splat!’.
Ace’s tongue rotated clockwise around his lips to clean them in the most satisfying way as the pie seemed to faint like a swooning lady to his open palms. Being chivalrous, he grabbed it in time, thus avoiding the waste of precious pie Emil’s dumb method of delivery could have had as result. How tragic it would have been!
“Jee, thanks!” He thanked with a bright smile and little boy’s tongue stucking out, not a care in the world. Emil heard no complaints about her brutish handing of a gift. Ace was just happy he had a dessert all for himself. “Whatcha say I eat the pie and we play frisbee with the tin later?”
Balancing a book on his head? Why would he ever want to do that? It was not a basic competence, not useful, not interesting. Wasn’t that the kind of stuff fancy ladies were taught at a young age as part of their social education?
Well, could he?
“Only one way to find out” Ace replied with a soft shrug of the shoulders. “Let’s test it out, shall we?”
There was no way a twenty-year-old man would manage to achieve in one take what children were taught at a young age and spend a good while to master, even if Nonnie’s challenge consisted of a single book and not a pile of them. ‘Singular’ did not always mean ‘simple’.
Ace placed the book he was offered - on some boring topic like the amazing secret life of silkworms - atop his black hair after lowering that infamous hat he owned over his bare back. Foolishly, he figured it would be easy enough a challenge for someone who was used to climbing up to and jumping down from rooftops and to navigating a one-man raft without ever dropping to the ocean.
He was wrong. Balancing a book on one’s head was a deceitfully easy exercise in theory, as he learnt when the book plopped onto the floor, pages facing the sky to reveal a photo of a chubby caterpillar happily eating its dinner of mulberry.
Dani’s question was simple and shortish, yet it posed the inverse to Ace, like a puzzle of a thousand pieces. He’d thought her to be neutral to questions of morality, Death being her only worry… Guess he was wrong. Then again, he did not know the reaper that well and maybe it wasn’t a question of bias as much as it was a question of studying humanity and its character.
If he could go back in time while remaining in the skin and soul of his 20-year-old self, be a witness in another’s past - Roger’s past - and interfere… Would he?
Ace closed his eyes and scratched his bottom lip before repeating the gesture on his forehead, under the brim of his hat.
Would he? To what purpose? What would saving Roger ever achieve apart from the obvious? Him being alive would not change Ace’s feelings towards the man he’d always hated. If anything, it would mean the bastard would owe him and have a whole second life to repay the act, at the sour best, and to try and get to know him at the most toxic worst. Only God knew how much bile Ace secreted at the very thought of Roger sticking around… He’d rather be haunted by his ghostly presence than by his fleshy, touchy, vocal one.
Ace imagined Roger walking towards and upwards the scaffold…
It was a way he knew well, as he too had faced the gallows, even if their executions did not match in either location or outcome. The sight was… There was no word to describe it. If there was one, it did not figure in Ace’s vocabulary. The gathering crowds, too, had been very different, but it still was a sight Ace did not wish for anyone he loved, particularly not for his little brother.
To have everyone waiting for you to die… To see everyone die for you… To feel so powerless Death, whom you’ve always known and never feared, only politely asked for it to give you one more day under the sun, started to look a lot like a blessing… To still feel the urge to ask it to wait for just a while more, just a little longer so you can see the sun rise again…
It was decidedly an experience Ace did not wish to relive if indeed he lived enough for it to pass. He knew Death ran a tight ship and would not tolerate any more requests from a lowly mortal,one who’d already extended his embodied stay for too long.
Would he save Roger from undergoing his own Passion? A thought of his own or an excerpt from some psalm - he could not tell anymore - made itself barely audible but clear in his mind, coming to him for the first time since Marineford…
‘Why then am I scared to finish what I started? What you started… I didn’t start it’
“No. I would not. My hand might not be the one that’d push him into his death… but it would not be the one pulling him out of it either”
Did Luffy, by any chance, think it possible that a single day would go by without Law being a jerk? He couldn’t and in all honesty Ace thought his nervous system would break down and his heart stop beating if Law tried. Him being a jerk was pretty much a matter of health and survival.
The more intimate aspects of their relationship aside, Law would not stop being a jerk to Ace either. Sometimes he’d shoo the pizza delivery guy away before Ace got to the door. Sometimes he’d argue how pizza was no better than a circle-shaped loaf of bread with toppings, much to Ace’s displeasure and annoyance. Thinking about it… Law had strong opinions about - read against - pizza…
Though Luffy’s claim ought not to be dismissed, Ace didn’t give it too much importance. It was not enough to set him on fire. He knew ‘Traffaroo’ would never dare touch his little brother on the account of the collateral damage there would be between the two should he be so bold.
Be that as it may, Luffy was still Ace’s little brother and he was not happy to know Law’s verbal medicine had made him upset. This called for payback.
“What did he do now? Why don’t you tell me so we can show him not to mess with us?”
Us. Ace would never leave Luffy abandoned to his own luck, though he would promptly step aside and let the youngster fight his own battles. What other way was there for a boy to grow up and to man up? Where Law was concerned, though, Luffy’s battle would never be a lonely one.
“Let’s ask Thatch if he has some leftover bread from yesterday’s dinner, shall we?” The commander smiled a fiendish smile.
“Permit me to disagree” He said before hitting his open palm against his chest.
The sound that ensued was solid as it could be. Fleshy… Definitely not dead, or Ace was a very repugnant specimen of a zombie, with rosy cheeks, a steady breath and no bone showing through pierced, rotten skin.
“What jail, you ask? Impel Down. I’m sure you’re familiar with it”
“You mean like Pops, right?” He asked but he might as well be uttering a statement. There was no need for Emil’s use of the plural when Ace had only one father, of his name Edward Newgate.
Ace had never really thought about it and the reason was simple enough to understand. “Can’t really grow a moustache or a beard, if you wanna know”
Facial hair? Yes, of course Ace would grow it… Only it took him weeks to achieve what other men were able to grow within a single one or even less than that. It was a rather humiliating thing his friends liked to tease him about. Ace, the babyface… With smooth cheeks and jaw and freckles aplenty.
Indeed, there had been a time, as a teenager, when the combination of both physical traits he had no control of had resulted in frustration for a boy who was too eager to be called a man. Fortunately, Ace had quickly learnt that a man’s greatness cannot be measured by the size of what he grows above or underneath his lips - Roger was an example of that, with what was said to be a marvellous moustache contrasting with the spectacular amount of anthropomorphic bullshit he was. Whitebeard was an example, too, with a heart whose size far surpassed that of his niveous ‘stache being the right indicator of his eminence.
Nowadays, he couldn’t care any less about his ability to grow facial hair into perceptive forms of the lack thereof and shaved as frequently as he could, finding a clean face better than a poor excuse of a stubble.
Noah had Ace on the edge of his seat. His eyes were round and wide like decorative plates over the mantelpiece of his gaping moup. Overall, Ace’s appearance was that of an
anthropomorphic telescope goldfish whose arms were rigid and his hands grabbed the sides of the chair with all their might.
He was not scared but, though the plan between him and Noah was that of sharing scary stories and urban myths, the tiger girl had no reason to feel upset by Ace’s lack of fear, for there was no fault in her storytelling to justify it - he was just that brave. At any rate, Noah could take satisfaction in seeing Ace so enthralled in the tale she was telling.
As the story got near the climax, Ace started shivering and sweating, not quite getting scared yet but anticipating the moment he’d be.
Fancy that! - Portgas D. Ace was scared! Not of a monster or advertisity before him, at that, but of a story told in the comfort of an inn, with the smell of wonderful comfort food playing inside his nostrils, teasing them, and a third of a piece of bread forgotten in his lap, after he’d felt a need to grab his seat and get closer to his tiger girl friend.
Nervous sweating trickled down his forehead… Oh no! She was gonna say it, wasn’t she? The finale he dread… Please! Let him be mistaken!
“…and when he opened the box” she was saying, “do you know what he saw?”
Ace bit his lip as though the gesture was both an inquisitive half-answer and a nod for her to finish. Damn it, Noah! She seemed to be taking wicked satisfaction in seeing Ace like this, so excited and so vulnerable. It was perverted.
“He found… there was no cheese in that cheeseburger!”
That was when Ace finally shrieked like a child! Talking about scary stories! What were monsters and murderers compared to bad trips to fast food joints?
Good question. If Ace could be granted a buttload of something - freely, effortlessly - what would that ‘something’ be?
Money? Certainly not. What use did a man like Ace have for money? The same as everyone else did, of course, as current economy was of the monetary kind, the barter type only existing in this or that isolated society but, pray tell, what would Ace buy when his pirating career would not leave much to the use of media of exchange and when years of dining-and-dashing meant running away when the food was gone down the throat by force of habit, without leaving behind a stack of golden coins upon the chosen eatery’s counter or table even when he had the money to cover the expense?
Everything else Ace wanted, he could get through labour. Through the sweat of his brow. He was a practical man and that was no short of honour.
It was the immaterial Ace coveted - identity, meaningfulness, consummation and redemption. Things no economy can deliver, whether monetary or non-monetary. So what use did he have for a buttload of money or of anything else, in all truth? Books? He knew know to read them, he was literate - but Ace was no big a fan of books. Clothes? Why, in spite of what rumour said, Ace actually owned shirts and jackets and other kinds of upper body fashions - but his shorts were practical, his boots resistant and his back ought to be bare and display his father’s mark at all times, unless the hostile environment had it otherwise, putting survival ahead of pride.
Yet, Ace would not leave Nonnie hanging, and for the sake of answering advanced with a possible solution to the question at hand.
“A buttload of food, maybe? Meat sounds fine” He enjoyed the food as much as his little brother did, after all, and though hunting was not that much of a bother, Ace would not refuse a gift of meat varieties. Perhaps neatly packed in a lunchbox for the way?
Oh, who was he trying to kid? - he’d devour the lunchbox and most likely run away out of habit, before some waiter or cook came chasing after him, demanding payment for a lovely meal.
It was Ace’s first Halloween with the Whitebeard Pirates and he doubted they would even remember there was such a holiday happening once a year. He and the former Spades might have to do something about it and would definitely have a party even if their recently extended family did not want to be part of it. They’d think it a festivity for children, wouldn’t they?
They didn’t, as it turned out when Thatch invited Ace to go trick-or-treating with him. Some of the commanders and part of their respective divisions were in it, too. Similarly, you’d expect wanted pirates, and infamous ones at that, to walk around town, if they must, in costumes that fully obscured their features, right? Yes, you would… But that was not the case. Some costumes consisted of accessories which might add something to the look but subtracted nothing from the trick-or-treaters’ identity, such as horns and claws and fanged teeth.
Thatch was aptly dressed as a devil with accessories such as these but, in all honesty, there was not much he could do to hide his identity when that trademarked hair of his would always give him away.
Of course, the question of whether they were recognised as the Whitebeard Pirates or not was of little importance: if they were and got the marines called on them, they’d fight for their freedom and all would end well; if they were not, then they could go trick-or-treating alongside the islanders and; as a third option, if they were recognised indeed but no marine was called on them, chances were they’d get extra candy from the scared civilians out of fear of being killed - though Whitebeard was not the chief killer of all pirate captains, the former word was indissociable of ‘death’.
Ace agreed to go trick-or-treating with a hearty giggle and only asked Thatch that he should wait for him to assemble his costume together. Though on short notice, the younger commander was able to come up with a disguise quickly enough and with the help of some friends who, though ‘too old’ to go knocking on doors themselves, did not object to the Commanders’ seasonal shenanigans.
“My sons”, Ace said as to announce his return, giggles erupting rom Izo in response the moment the other man put his eyes on him, smoke billowing from his kiseru - not a part of Izo’s costume but an integral part of him whose importance transcended that of accurate costumes.
Ace’s hair was hidden under a bandanna and the mark of his back concealed by the white coat supported on his shoulders alone, though not out of a wish to have it hidden. On his hand there was a copy of a certain bisento made to fit Ace’s own scale and under his nose was a crescent-shaped white moustache. More than being Whitebeard’s son, for the remainder of the night, Ace would be a smaller version of his Pops.
“Gurararara! Well? What the hell are you waiting for? Let’s go get some candy!” What were the odds of them not being recognised now?
(…)
Though no kid believed this man they were seeing to be Edward Newgate, who was said to be a massive old man and not an average-sized young one, and who, as a respectable pirate captain, would not ask for candy from strangers repeating the ‘trick or treat?’ dare over and over again, Ace lived up to his costume and played the role of Whitebeard, punctuating his trick-or-treating with his father’s laugh and calling everyone a brat, a punk or a snotty kid as only ‘he’, a man who’d seen it all, done it all, could.
He also milked these theatrics for all they were worth, addressing his commander brothers as ‘sons’ and deciding each should give a part of their raidings to his beloved son Ace, who deserved all the candy in the world. When he was told there was no way they would share the spoils when his own bucket was full, Ace threatened them. “I’m telling Pops!”
In spite of this witty attempt failing and past his deliberate mimicking of Whitebeard’s mannerisms, Ace did really hit the nail on the head when he unconsciously showcased the genuine spirit of his father - that of a man who embodied the ideals of justice, gentleness and protection - when he distributed all of his hardly achieved candy amongst some boys who’d been bullied by older kids, all their candy stolen from them.
Luffy’s idea of Halloween was going trick or treating. Robin’s idea of Halloween was stay in and watch horror movies. Figures! While Ace’s idea of Halloween was more in tune with his little brother’s, he didn’t like the image of Robin staying alone on what was supposed to be the best night of the year - Christmas Eve was only second to this one - when everyone else went out to ask for candy of deliver an unpleasant gift upon being denied treats. It just made no sense for the archaeologist to stay behind, yet, her wishes should be respected.
“I’m staying” Ace announced Luffy and the remainder of his crew from behind kitty whiskers, as he was dressed as a black cat. With his size, and in the dark of the night, Ace was hoping to make an old man or two scream in horror at the giant black cat of bad luck! “You’d better share your candy with me, you hear?”
It was a threat directed at Luffy and only a half-empty one: while Ace would not beat his little brother up like he did when they were kids anymore, he’d still expect Luffy to be a good little brother and bring enough candy for the both of them. He’d better not accept any raisins and crappy things like that old people sometimes added to the trick-or-treaters’ buckets, not uncommonly regarding these as real candy in their octogenarian opinion!
Ace and Robin bid the crew goodbye. Chopper looked a bit iffy, as though he did not want to go separate ways from Ace, but the reindeer was not a fan of horror movies and Usopp quickly pulled him away.
Still wearing his cat costume, and with a bag of corn in his hands - paws - Ace sat next to Robin. “So what are we watching?” Zombies, serial killers, underground adventures… The choices were endless.
While Robin made her choice, Ace took care of the treats. What? Sanji was not the only man alive who could provide the lady with movie goodies! Making sure the corn bag was sealed, Ace removed the fabric fingers of his paw, his own appearing from under the black glove, and cast a flame which flickered upwards. The next step’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? The bag of corn went over the flame and voilá! - popcorn!
Robin watched the movie with a neutral, almost bored expression and with a third arm snatched some popcorn out of Ace’s bag with her natural limbs were crossed over her raised knee. Ace, on the other hand, would frown and complain about what he thought was bullshit - those kids were so dumb! Why were horror movie kids always so dumb?!
He couldn’t blame the characters for being intrigued and going after the spooky sounds they heard and ominous presences they felt, though. He’d do the same… But Ace was not as stupid as they were, he wanted to believe!
When this first movie was done, another one followed. Robin and Ace watched a title per monster, doing the full circle of Halloween characters.
Ace never got to see the end of a movie, though, because Luffy appeared before the finale and instantly did Ace run to him to see what sort of booty he’d gotten knocking on doors and ringing doorbells - and he hoped there would be no raisins, buttons, old hard caramels and other old people stuff in that bucket! Or else…!!!
If you could send a letter to yourself ten years in the past and ten years in the future, what would those letters say?
Ace considered both questions and gave them some thought… The first one, of what he’d say his ten-year-old self, was by far the one of most prominence and it received Ace’s full attention; no questioning of Nonnie’s peculiar curiosity nor a hard word about them prying into his private life, for this was a very personal question indeed and whatever he might answer very revealing of his core.
A letter to ten-year-old Portgas D. Ace…
Hey there, kiddo. So it would start. Maybe a ‘it’s me’ would be added. Wouldn’t ‘it’s you’ be more correct, though? It was a confusing matter and Ace figured those three words would be sufficient a greeting. What would he say to little Ace? What could he?
I know what it is you feel. Sadness, anger. You feel anger at everything; of everything. Of the demon bastard who helped bring you into this world… Of being no more than a trash kid with no expectations and no future… Of the rotten world you know and of the God you don’t. And you didn’t ask for any of it, did you? You never asked to be born. You never asked to be kept alive and brought to Dadan’s… And I know you blame herself for Her death. That’s gotta be the hardest of all for a kid.
This is all you need to know.
What you feel is totally justified, all of it. You have every right to be angry at the world who doesn’t want or need you. You’re a demon, yes, but so what? You’re stronger than you know. There’s fire in you and you will use it, sometimes in a foolish manner but it’ll keep you alive. And trust me, there’s much to be alive for, even if for just another day.
The world? Not so rotten beyond the horizon. One day you’ll sail out of Dawn Island and see many wonderful places and meet interesting people… Some will even love you! Crazy, right? But that’s the truth of it, no bullshittin’.
You never dared to dream of anything until Sabo came along… Keep that dream alive, Ace. Fight for it. You will set sail and live many adventures. I wish I could tell you about them but… Those are for you to live.
You have to keep on living, Ace. And so do I. That question that haunts you every night, every day, every hour? It haunts me too. And I’m older than you and haven’t found the answer, still, but I feel I am getting close… And if I die before it, so be it, but that’s me - you can’t die. Not yet. Not until you’ve seen the world and met your true father who’ll be waiting for you beyond that horizon.
Justified, all of it… Except for one thing.
It was not your fault, Ace. Mother’s death is not on your shoulders. I know you don’t understand it like that now, I know you call yourself her murderer, but trust me, you will. With time, you will see who the true culprit of Mother’s death was… and it’s not you. Her blood’s not on your hands. I wish we could have met her… Known her face, her scent, the touch of her hands… I wish I could take those nightmares that keep you up away.
I wish I could lessen the pain. I wish I could tell you that hey, you’ll be fine but that’d be a lie and I know you don’t like liars. You won’t be fine… But you will find yourself a family, Ace, and you will be better. Things are looking up, kiddo!
(…)
Don’t be so hard on Dadan! She’s trying her best - she didn’t ask for you any more than you asked for her. Be grateful every now and then, you little shit! Be a lil’ bit nicer on Luffy, too… Enjoy the time you have with Sabo… What am I saying? You know what to do!
Whatever happens, Ace… Don’t be so hard on yourself. For both of us, try. Just try. Promise me you’ll try. Won’t you promise? Will you? Good.
You’re not a bad kid, Ace.
As for his future self, Ace’s solution was much more immediate and practical. There was nothing to say to his self of ten years from now when he had no idea if he’d manage to live to his thirties. And he had no ambition of doing so.
“I don’t care about my future self… Let him worry about his own time, don’t you reckon?”
Another bear had found its way to Ace’s locker. Things were starting to get weird - just the day before, Ace had found a ripped piece of paperbearing a similar design left amid his belongings, the main difference being its pose, in which the bear was going for a kiss, whereas this one seemed to be going for a hug or begging to be held up at least.
It was the same paper and everything - maybe from the same sheet - which meant the second bear came from the same person who’d sent the first one. Still a cute thing to get; but Ace wondered if this would be his new life now, to receive a different bear from some stranger every school day…
I bet you just about had a heart attack, almost being flashed by the big mean Marine
It was in Ace’s inherent nature to be rude. However, it was also in Ace’s acquired nature to be considerate of other people’s feelings. It was a difficult, precarious balance on which he had started working while still a teen and which nowadays pended to the kind side unless the man was provoked.
Thus, he did not voice his true feelings to Lattice over her partial nudity and how smashingly indifferent it was to him, fearful of hurting her feelings. Still… He could not tell a lie and would not tell her one to massage her ego, either. It was a matter of measuring his words to get the message across - and truth be told, the babylike way Lattice was speaking to him, about her being a ‘big, mean marine’ was more than enough reason for Ace to lose his temper.
“You must have me mistaken, ma’am. I wasn’t paying attention”
૮(•̀ꐧ•́)ა A small dog barked at Ace, following him on short, stubby legs. His yapping sounded more excited than threatening. He probably thought he had finally found a playmate. ੯ੁૂ‧̀͡u
While Ace was eanring himself the reputation of a kitten-loving manchild, the statement was not quite right for two reasons. One, its subject should be the felines and not the man, as they loved Ace in the first place for his warmth of the flesh and of the personality. Two, he liked animals, generally-speaking and though cats were in the top 5, they did not occupy the top position.
So it was that, when the dog barked at Ace and followed him as though it was imprinting on the human, Ace turned around to face the small and short critter and greet it with a hat salute.
“Hey, buddy” He pet the dog with soft pats on the back and the animal responded with repeated, synchronised wags of the tail. Then, with a curious and attentive nose, the dog took a liking to Ace’s bag, sniffing all over the green fabric. “Are you hungry?”
There were plenty of things Ace carried in his backpack but only one a dog would be interested in: a loaf of bread. It was a day old, no longer scented with that heavenly aroma of freshly baked loaves but the canine found it desirable, still, and Ace was not one to get rid of bread only because it was one day old himself. How could he not, after living the childhood he’d lived and what with him being a pirate?
Ace removed the bread from his backpack and broke it in two halves: one for him, the other for the dog. “Yeah, you can eat it, it’s fine”
