Chapter Text
You ever wake up with that jolt in your chest, like your soul just remembered something your brain forgot?
Yeah, that was Ace this morning.
He sat up so fast he hit his head on the top bunk and nearly bit his tongue off. “Shit—what time is it?” He scrambled for his pocket watch, only to remember he left it in his jacket, which he left... somewhere. Great.
Ace threw on his uniform shirt—half-buttoned, wrinkled, definitely not regulation-ready—and shoved his boots on without socks. His Marine coat hung on the wall like it was mocking him. He grabbed it and barrelled out the door, down three flights of stairs, leapt over a poor Ensign carrying tea and made a mad sprint for the port.
He was supposed to be on the patrol ship bound for Soromi Island. Three hours ago.
“Lieutenant Commander Ace! Wait!” someone called after him. Too late. Ace was gone, kicking up dust like a damn storm.
The dock was half-empty by now, just a few merchant boats and a couple small fishing vessels swaying with the tide. No sign of his ship. Ace stood there panting like an idiot, hands on his knees, heat prickling at the back of his neck.
“Son of a—” Ace didn’t finish. He scanned the water, then the sky, then back to the water. No Navy ships in sight. Just one small fishing boat getting ready to leave.
Ace bolted toward it.
He glanced over his shoulder, a wide, reckless grin splitting his face. It was as if he knew you were watching.
Name’s Portgas D. Ace.
It was the only thing he could say, the only thing that felt real when he woke up, the only solid piece of information in a head full of fog. He didn’t know where he was, who he was, or what had happened. Just… that name.
Then Monkey D. Garp found him. An old Marine, loud and boisterous, with hands that could crack coconuts. For some reason, he took Ace in. He trained him, pushed him and showed him the ropes. He gave Ace a life, a purpose. So, Ace became a Marine.
It wasn’t a choice he remembered making, but it felt right.
Wild, huh?
Ace wore the coat now. He answered to a Commodore who thought he was reckless (he wasn’t wrong) and he carried the rank of Lieutenant Commander in the Navy. Fastest promotion in the West Blue, or so they told him. Probably just meant he was the most trouble, honestly.
Ace didn’t follow every rule. He still couldn’t stand nobles. He lit things on fire when he was mad, which was often. There were no grand memories, no flashes of a forgotten life. Just the here and now.
But Ace was trying.
Trying to be better.
Trying to make this life mean something.
And right then, that meant catching a ride. Because of course he was late. Some things, Ace guessed, just stuck with you.
“Hey! Hey, wait—!” He skidded onto the planks, nearly twisting his ankle on a coil of rope. A blonde man on the boat turned, blinking at him like he’d just crawled out of the sea.
He was... weirdly tall. Built like a fighter, not a fisherman. Tan skin, sharp blue eyes and messy hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks, or perhaps had a permanent, odd shape, almost like… a pineapple. He had this lazy kind of calm on his face, like the world could end and he’d just shrug. It didn’t match the patched-up little vessel he was standing on at all.
“Can I help you?” he asked, voice a little rough, but not unfriendly.
“I need a ride to Soromi Island,” Ace gasped, clutching his knees. “I missed my ship—I’m Marine, I swear—look, I don’t have time to explain, but it’s really important.”
He gave Ace this look. Not judgmental, just… watching. Like he was trying to decide what kind of person Ace was in three seconds flat. Ace felt his eyes flick over the half-buttoned shirt and scuffed boots.
“This isn’t a ferry,” he said slowly, lifting an eyebrow.
“I know! But you’ve got a boat and the wind’s good and I’ll pay you—hell, I’ll row if I have to, just—please.”
He hesitated. For a second, Ace thought he’d tell him to screw off. But something shifted in his expression. Not pity, exactly. More like... curiosity.
He sighed and reached for the rope, untying it with one hand. “Get in before I change my mind, yoi.”
Ace blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Don’t make me regret it, yoi.”
Ace jumped onboard before he could. “You won’t! Promise.”
He smirked a little and shook his head. “You talk a lot, yoi.”
“Sorry, I just—ugh, I seriously owe you, Mr. Fisherman. My name’s Ace. What’s your name?”
He looked at Ace for a beat, then turned to the rudder. “Call me Marco.”
Marco. Huh.