Chapter Text
It takes Sabo nursing one glass of beer for nearly 5 hours, but finally, it’s the pitch darkness of pre-dawn, and Jain’s men have passed out after partying all night. The uniform sits uncomfortably on his shoulders; the fabric is too scratchy and taut, but he pays it no mind as he jumps to his feet and stretches.
He leans into the shadows cast by the walls, just in case, and tiptoes to the leader’s quarters. Jain’s office is this stuffy room with a large window that is too jammed to open, walls lined with simplistic shelves, every inch stacked up with files and reports. At first, Sabo thinks the labels are encrypted, but soon he realizes they are merely disorganized, marked only enough for Jain to differentiate. Sabo feels the beginning of a headache as he scans through the titles, a small flashlight held between his teeth.
He pulls out a thick red folder that looks particularly worn, the kind of wear that comes from repeated use. Dust mites come flying out, and he bites back a sneeze. He scrunches his nose, tempted to groan. A lewd magazine cover with a woman posing suggestively stares back at him. He closes the folder with a silent thud. Well, Jain’s got hobbies, he supposes.
“Oh? All that secrecy just to look at the magazines? And here I thought you were a super secret spy. I am a little disappointed, I have to admit.”
Sabo jerks towards the direction of the raspy voice, dropping the flashlight in the process - not that he really needs light to fight. He flips his pipe in an attack stance, eyes blown wide open. He didn’t even realize the person had snuck up on him. The darkness shrouds most of the unknown person’s face. The only features Sabo can make out are dark black locks of hair, a constellation of freckles over his cheeks, and this mischievous smirk.
It makes Sabo’s heart twinge uncomfortably - makes him think of sundried plums and green forests, and messing around in rivers. Achingly familiar, and yet, entirely novel. Ivankov called it jamais vu the first time Sabo mentioned feeling this way when he watched Hack-san share sake in red cups with Kuma and Iva-san.
Fire Fist Portgas D. Ace. Second division commander of the Whitebeard pirates. 550 million berry bounty.
“Relax,” Ace says, unfaltering grin on his face. “I am not taking your magazines.”
He jumps off the top of the shelf he was crouched on. He lands on the ground as softly as a cat. “Not after all the work you put into stealing them,” he continues teasing. The pale white of the flashlight illuminates the tattoo on his arm; a curious choice—a misspelled version of his own name.
Sabo grins back. He spins the pipe out of the way and does a small bow. “Ah, pardon my manners,” he says, putting away the weapon. “I was startled.”
He stands back upright and takes off his top hat, letting his blond curls fall over his eyes. It’s almost imperceptible, but the moment their eyes meet, Ace falters. His smirk drops, and his pupils dilate. He looks like he has seen a ghost. The look disappears just as fast as it appeared, and the teasing lilt is back.
“So, are they bad guys?” Ace asks, making himself comfortable next to Sabo, as he leans against the singular desk in the middle of the room. A dusty, unfurnished mahogany desk with stacks of incomplete paperwork and tea stains. The moonlight pooling into the room through the window makes him glow a little. Like an untouchable spectre.
Oh well, Sabo thinks. There is no talking out of this. “Nothing I can do to convince you I am really just a pervert?”
Ace laughs this full-bellied laugh. For all the embellished tales of his tyranny, Sabo can’t help but be drawn to his fire.
“Do you need to?” Ace asks instead.
“I suppose not,” Sabo replies, shrugging. Ace is not part of Jain’s crew, and he doesn’t seem to care about either party. Sabo decides he is not a threat. Something like an overgrown, too curious, annoying child at worst. A conversation partner at best.
He goes back to flipping through the folders, looking for the transactions ledger, or perhaps even a map of the route the ship has been following. There are more than a hundred different folders, some of them so old that the papers are thinned and fraying, one swipe of a finger enough to tear through them like a sand castle. All the while, Ace’s eyes bear into his back.
“Are you a spy?” Ace pushes again.
“A spy wouldn’t admit to being a spy,” Sabo points out drily.
“Killjoy,” Ace deadpans.
Sabo can’t help but laugh at that. “What are you doing here? Certainly, Fire Fist Ace has got better things to do than mingle with Jain’s motley crew.”
“Jain? Is that who this ship belongs to? I am just hitching a ride to the next island.”
For some reason, the lack of concern does not surprise Sabo. Of course, a pirate of his calibre would just randomly sneak on an unfamiliar ship to hitch a ride.
“Where are you headed?”
“Why should I tell a spy?” Ace asks petulantly.
“Never said I was one.”
“I am not Luffy. I am not falling for that.”
Sabo pauses, a folder half out of the shelf. “Luffy?”
There again. The falter in his step, the dimmed eyes. Gone as fast as it comes. Sabo wonders why Ace is watching him, making conversation with him in this stuffy office room. He talks like they are old friends catching up. Then again, pirates often tend to be some of the most exuberantly friendly people. However, something about Ace feels different.
“Luffy as in Strawhat Luffy?” Sabo repeats.
Ace puts on a grin again, a painted mask on top. Sabo notes absently that Ace wouldn’t make a great spy; he is too easy to read. Or, perhaps - no, he takes that back.
“Yeah, he is my baby brother. Got the lower end of the stick when it comes to brain cells,” Ace jokes.
It’s not that Ace is too easy to read. Sabo is just good at reading him. Feels like they are on the same wavelength. Like he knows him and his tells.
Sabo finally finds the document he was looking for. A whole list of their inventory storage locations. Ace leans over him to look at the document.
“Eh? Spy-san, are you a thief? Why do you need to know about their inventory? Are you planning to commit a heist?”
“Are you going to stop me if I am?” Sabo asks retrospectively, pointedly ignoring the silly nickname.
“I am a pirate,” Ace replies.
Sabo chuckles. “Let’s just say I am a thief.”
“You are definitely a spy,” Ace reiterates.
“I said I am a thief.”
“Nope, no way. You are a spy.”
Sabo narrows his eyes. “What makes you say so?”
“Dunno. A hunch.”
Sabo gives up. He is leaning more towards the overgrown, annoying child angle than the conversation partner one, the longer this bizarre interaction stretches. Sabo focuses on the documents again, takes a picture of each record with his den-den mushi, and then carefully returns them to their original places on the shelf.
“Curious,” Ace remarks. “The final destination of the ship is at Lulusia. Revolutionary army?” he guesses.
Sabo has to give it to Ace for making the connection so fast. While Lulusia has been revolting for a while now, and it is speculated that the revolutionary army has a thing or two to do with it, it is still not common knowledge.
“I said I am a thief,” Sabo grits his teeth.
“And I am a marine,” Ace deadpans.
Sabo tsks, the irritation building behind his temples. “You wanna fight?”
Ace breaks out in this large, Cheshire grin, eyes glinting manically. “Don’t go crying to your mama when I beat the shit out of you.”
Sabo smirks, spinning his pipe in front of him, legs firmly planted on the ground. The papers on the desk ruffle and dust mites go flying. “Talking big for someone who is about to eat shit.”
Footsteps. Instantly, silence envelops the room. Sabo and Ace both fall back into the shadows, dropping their pseudo-fighting contest. This time, the person stops in front of the room. With a creaky protest from the hinges, the door opens. Jain’s eyes are like slits, still half-curtained with sleep. He raises an arm to block out his yawn as he steps into the office. Sabo’s own heartbeat sounds like thunder in between bated breaths. He taps into his observation haki since his spot under the table does not exactly provide the best view of things.
Jain pulls at the porno magazine collection with a lazy hand and stalks off, the door clicking shut behind him. Sabo lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He looks up to find an upside-down Ace grinning at him, the orange cowboy hat swinging from his neck, attached by a thin white string. It takes all of Sabo to not shriek at the surprise appearance.
“You could give a man a warning, you know,” Sabo comments drily.
Ace laughs, all carefree. He jumps off the desk and stands up straight. “What’s the fun in that?” he asks, fixing the hat over his head.
“I could have blown your brains off if I got spooked,” Sabo points out.
“You didn’t,” he shrugs.
Infuriating. Sabo cannot stand this man. “It’s the principle of the matter.”
“Principle of the matter. What does that even mean?” Ace tilts his head. “To be honest, I don’t care. But remember, you owe me a fight.”
Sabo sighs. Great. Another himbo pirate challenging him like they could ever take him on.
“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Spy-san,” Ace continues, like he can read his mind. “I don’t know how many people you have beaten before but this will be your first time fighting me.”
If they were to fight, Ace would probably start by striking him from the left side, hand heating up into a flame fist. He tends to leave the right side of his torso open to attack, but he supposes now that he has a long-range devil fruit, it won’t matter much unless he can close the distance -
It doesn’t make sense. Sabo knows that even if his observation haki is good, really good in fact, compared to most people, it is not good enough yet for him to predict the future. He should have no way of knowing that, especially with how Ace stands straight, equal weight on both feet, nothing to give away how he relies more heavily on his left side, or the pull he feels to cover the right side. How the distance between the two of them feels too long, like someone else is supposed to stand in the middle, shorter than both of them, but chaotic enough to mask the endless gray-
A flick to his forehead has him blink back and return to the present. Sabo growls.
“You’re a pretty shit spy, you know,” Ace remarks. “Zoning out in the middle of deciding on a spar. If I were less honorable, I could have attacked you now.”
Sabo rolls his eyes. “You need the ship intact to get to the next island. You can’t fight without causing collateral damage for the life of you.” Then, with a teasing lilt, he adds. “Especially against me.”
He expects Ace to take the bait and shit talk him some more. The latter, however, just throws back his head and laughs. “The next time we meet,” Ace promises. “I’ll show you where you belong.”
…
Ace lounges on the crow’s nest as the ship sails into the moonlit horizon, the calm song of the ocean lulling his bloodthirst underneath his fingernails, tucking it into his skin. His heart sits on his chest like a stone, and there is this lump in his throat he cannot swallow away.
How could he let someone from his own division kill his brother? How careless, useless -
It should have been him. It was supposed to be him. Another brother lost in his stead.
There is a storm brewing underneath the clouds, Ace knows even before the rain pours, but the ocean is calm. Don’t cry, she says. It’s not your time yet.
Ace exhales. Spy-san was right. He cannot exactly set the world ablaze yet; he has traitors to hunt, brothers to protect, promises to keep. Sabo would be so mad at him if he came to see him too soon. They have a bumbling younger brother who kicks up trouble everywhere he goes. Someone needs to watch his back.
He thinks back to Zoro’s broad shoulders, hands never straying too far from the scabbard of his swords, always watching Luffy’s back. Thinks of Nami dragging Luffy to the correct path no matter how many times he trails off. A cook who can keep up with Luffy’s monstrous appetite, a liar who makes up for Luffy’s terrible poker face, a reindeer who looks at his brother like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky. Above all, he remembers how they don’t hesitate to dive headfirst into whatever chaos Luffy is at the centre of.
He jumps down from the crow’s nest, his boots hitting with a barely audible thud. “You move like a cat,” Spy-san comments, leaning against the wall. He has these brilliant blue eyes that look wise, like he knows every step Ace could make, has calculated all the best ways to respond to it, and Ace doesn’t doubt for a second that it is true. He is still dressed in the scruffy uniform that the rest of Jain’s crew wear: a nylon white shirt, a stuffy tie around the neck, and grey slacks.
Ace finds himself relaxing, the lump in his throat tolerable for a second.
Perhaps it’s the fact that the man in front of him looks and acts too much like Sabo, or maybe Ace has finally lost it, but he cannot begrudge the company he has found himself entangled in in his solitary journey to chase down Blackbeard to the ends of the world.
“Are you telling me I would be a better spy than you?” Ace teases back.
Not-Sabo snorts. “Hardly. You are too easy to read.”
“Careful, Spy-san. Aren’t you getting too comfortable around a big, bad, terrible pirate?” Ace shoots back as he watches the relaxed lines of the spy’s shoulders. The blond easily falls into step with Ace, following him inside the ship to raid the galley, his weapon resting harmlessly on his back.
“We are both stuck on this ship until we make it to land,” Sabo points out. “Besides, I already told you. I could take you on with my pink finger.”
Ace sticks his tongue out. “I bet even Luffy could take you on, and he is a weak crybaby.”
That elicits a laugh from not-Sabo, and it has Ace reeling with delight. And oh, he is a little fucked, isn’t he? Even if this stranger is not Sabo, even if it is just his face and his actions and his stupid propensity to get under Ace’s skin, Ace could never raise a weapon against him and actually intend to kill.
It’s not Spy-san, but rather he who has gotten too comfortable.
“I’m sure you are the only one who would call the infamous rookie a weak crybaby. He took down Crocodile, you know, who might be the weakest warlord, but one of the seven warlords nonetheless.”
“Oh, he did it already? Isn’t my brother amazing?” Ace ends up puffing his chest, a grin splitting on his face. “I knew he could do it.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a brother complex?”
Ace just grins at the blond, who lets out a long-suffering sigh.
At once, they reach the cramped galley. It is stocked with dry-aged meat, fish, and barrels of sake. Not-Sabo picks up an apple from one of the barrels and bites into it with a crunch. Ace, for his part, finds bread. A sandwich would be nice, he decides, as he pulls out a ribeye. He lights a small controlled fire on one hand and starts roasting the meat.
“So what brings you here?” Ace asks, breaking the rhythmic music of fire cackling and crunching of bites. He doesn’t really expect an answer. Even Ace knows how secretive the revolutionary army can be, not to mention that this guy in particular is no pushover. He gets one anyway.
A shadow falls over the blond’s eyes. “Jain deals regularly with the Marines and Celestial Dragons.”
Ace’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, cheeks sticking out due to the bread he is chewing on. “I certainly feel less guilty about raiding their foodstock now.”
Not-Sabo lets out a soft chuckle. “So what are you going to do about it?” Ace asks.
“For now, collect data. I will probably sail with them till Lulusia, find out about all their suppliers, and operations, and then when the time is right, we strike.” He has a grin on his face as he explains it all, the kind that shows all his teeth like a feral beast raised in the wild.
“I will look forward to the news,” Ace says, raising his fist, imitating a toast.
Except. Except Ace’s fist is on fire because he was using it to roast meat, and now the edge of a barrel has caught on fire. Not-Sabo’s widen and Ace feels his own carefree smile slipping as the barrel - a sake barrel - explodes into flames, the wooden floor giving in under all the pressure like it is made of cardboard.
“Are you stupid?” Not-Sabo hisses as they crash onto the floor underneath. Panicked shouts resound from above as men rush to the galley. Ace offers him a sheepish grin and a hand to help him stand up. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
The blond chokes and coughs due to the smoke. He shoots Ace a scathing glare as the smoke begins to clear, but accepts Ace’s outstretched hand anyway. “This is why I can’t work with pirates. You people have no tact.”
“Hey! You’re the one following-”
Ace’s words die in his throat when the smoke clears completely and the situation around them becomes clear. An impenetrable silence settles in the space between them. On either side of them, the walls are lined with rows and rows and rows of cells. People - men, women, children as young as Otama - are jailed up, marked with that stupid metal chunk around their necks as the slaves in Sabaody. Ace’s blood turns to ice.
Voice carefully even, Ace asks, “When you said in business with the Celestial Dragons, surely you didn’t mean…” His voice shakes towards the end, the forced calm barely concealing the rage bubbling in his blood.
Spy-san stands tall, shoulders straightened out, none of the teasing edge from before. “It appears so,” he replies grimly.
Ace walks forward, crouches down in front of a cell with a young child dressed in haggard rags for clothes, hair sticking out messily from a loose ponytail. Ace swallows the lump in his throat.
“And what were you planning to do about it?”
The blond does not say anything. He just stands behind Ace. Ace gulps. “You were just going to let it be, weren’t you?”
“It’s not like I want to,” Not-Sabo replies defensively. “But we have plans, and in the grand scheme of things, I can’t rush-”
“You were going to allow the children to be sold off to slavery,” Ace cuts him off, blood rushing through his ears.
“I didn’t know they had people here. I was under the impression Jain only traded in arms-”
“So, what are you going to do now?” Ace asks, glaring at Not-Sabo through his messy dark bangs. I dare you to leave them behind, he means.
The blond tears the eye contact and looks away. He lets out a sigh. “I was not expecting this. Let me think,” He responds, pulling the top hat over his eyes.
“What is there to think about? Isn’t the Revolutionary Army supposed to help people?” Ace spits out.
“With a plan! If we fight now, everyone sinks with the ship. You’ll basically be an anchor!” Not-Sabo screams at him.
Ace flinches. “It doesn’t have to be that complicated. The enemies will be rushing here any minute now. I’ll hold them off. You find the keys, free the slaves, and take them to the docks. I won’t use my fire until then.”
“They have a lot of people,” the blond points out. “You cannot hold them off without fire forever.”
“You’ll just have to hurry then,” Ace tells him with a smirk.
He tilts his head, ruminating over the proposal before finally nodding. “That could work. Listen, I have an idea where the keys could be. I’ll figure out a way to get the people to safety. In the meantime, I’ll rely on you.”
“You can count on me.”
…
Sabo’s heartbeats louder in his ears than his footsteps as he stalks into the control room. A male guard is munching on pink donuts, feet propped over a metal table, a stack of keys tied to his belt. On the other side of the room, a female guard with long green hair is tearing into the other guard. Sabo marches in.
“Pardon my intrusion,” he says.
Both guards pause, surprised at his sudden appearance. Before either of them has the presence of mind to act, Sabo swings his pipe and, in one neat arc, hits both of their heads, rendering them unconscious. He steals the keys and runs off to the underground prison area.
On the way, he passes Fire-fist. True to his word, the pirate is fighting with his hands and a dismembered pipe he picked up somewhere, a feral grin on his face. Their eyes meet for a second, and Ace’s smirk grows. Sabo swallows, looking away. Sabo has always acted alone, but here and now, it’s stupidly easy to trust the fire-spirited pirate.
He opens up the cells; one key appears to fit every lock, much to his relief. The slaves, however, make no motion to move. Sabo curses under his breath.
“Hey, I am here to help you guys. I will protect you,” Sabo yells over the commotion of Jain’s men and Ace.
Sabo catches the eyes of one particular slave, a towering tattooed man with broad shoulders and dark, sunken eyes. “What can you do?” he asks sceptically, voice hoarse. He gives Sabo a once-over, lips pursed in a thin line.
“If we get caught again, they’ll beat us up worse,” a small child cries out from another corner, the same girl Ace had crouched before. Tears stream down her cheeks.
Sabo swallows. “I am strong,” he tells them. “And my partner is strong too. They don’t stand a chance against us.”
No one makes a move ahead. Sabo sneaks a glance at Ace in time to see him receive a punch to his face. Ace responds to the punch by spitting in the person’s face before doing a roundhouse kick that takes out another five men.
The big man snorts. “Even so, you are just two people. They are not weak, and they have numbers.”
“What is taking so long?!” Ace screams from ahead. “I cannot hold them out forever, Spy-san!”
Sabo tsks. “I’ve got this!” He yells back, cupping his mouth. Then he turns to the imprisoned people. “You may not have faith in our abilities, but time is of the essence here. We are doing our best. I cannot help you if you refuse to help yourself. Those of you who want to gamble on a future, follow me.”
No one moves. Then, a woman with flowing pink hair steps forward. “I would rather die fighting for my freedom than be a slave,” she spits out.
Following her lead, more people step forward. Sabo lets out a sigh of relief. Finally, the big man too steps forward, eyes downcast. “What do you have in mind?” he asks Sabo.
“Follow me!” Sabo instructs. “Keep the children in the middle. Anyone with fighting experience, move to the front of the group. We will clear the way forward!”
Keeping an eye on a large group is not easy by means, especially when pesky lowlives keep attacking from both sides. He kicks someone in the shin and hits another in the stomach with his pipe. Canon fodder that don’t even need armament haki.
They make it to the second floor, but the crew appears to be inexhaustible. He cracks his neck, pops his shoulders, spins his pipe.
“I’ll hold them off,” the tattooed man from earlier steps in. “You should clear the path for the rest of them.”
Sabo lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Ace will be here soon,” he reassures.
The previously imprisoned people follow him to the floor above. Finally, they make it to the deck. Two men take the lead and start dismounting lifeboats into the water. Dawn has broken, painting the ocean in pinks and purples. Sabo helps the children and women into the lifeboats first.
“I trusted you.”
Sabo senses the attack before it can strike anyone. He blocks Jain’s talons with his pipe, hardened with haki. He grits his teeth. Jain ate the eagle-eagle fruit, which makes him tricky to fight long-distance, so Sabo resolves to keep him engaged in close-range attacks.
“I don’t owe loyalty to scum like you,” Sabo retorts, kicking the ground to propel his jump. He lands on the eagle’s back, fingers hardened in a claw. A hit from his left - on the side of his bad eye - catches him off-guard, throwing him off the eagle. He rolls onto the wooden floor of the deck, hitting his right shoulder hard. He curses.
“Not so fast,” Jain’s partner, Ruby, appears. Ruby is a woman with magenta hair that reaches below her waist, tied in a high ponytail. She uses a spear to fight. She is not particularly strong on her own, but Jain and Ruby have been working together for ten years, and together they are annoying to fight.
Sabo’s eyes widen as, in an instant, Jain flies into Sabo’s purview, talons poised to scratch his face and claw out his eyes.
A spear made of fire hits him from the side, taking him down mid-flight. Fire-fist and the tattooed man appear from the flight of stairs. The former has a cocky smile on his face that pisses Sabo off.
“Damsel in distress is not a good look on you,” Ace remarks.
Sabo rolls his eyes, getting up on his feet. “I don’t need your help. I can take care of them in two minutes.”
“Oh? I bet I could clean the floor with their asses in ten seconds.” Ace stands on Sabo’s left, hands on fire.
They fight like they have been doing this forever. It shouldn’t be this easy, but Ace covers Sabo’s blind spots seamlessly. They are like a well-oiled machine, invincible together. It took Sabo and Koala months to perfect fighting together without getting in each other’s way. Sabo files the thought away - the clawing in his chest like all of this is more than a freak coincidence - and focuses on the present.
Ace throws up a wall of fire that Jain escapes by flying into the sky. It catches Ruby off-guard, who coughs out a lung as the smoke clears.
“Showy,” Sabo remarks as he takes off running, gaining momentum to run vertically on the walls. As he gets closer to Jain, he kicks the wall and strikes the eagle with his dragon claw, giving him a nasty scar across his chest.
“Too slow,” Ace taunts as he blocks an attack from Ruby from the ground with his makeshift pipe.
Sabo responds to that by breaking the floor to trap Jain to the ground with the debris.
“Who is the show off now?
“I was saving your ass,” Sabo bickers back.
He looks back at the ocean to check on the freed people. The lifeboats are getting farther away, much to his relief. He had given the pink-haired woman from earlier the keys, so he knows she is currently taking off the metal locks on their necks.
“Keep your eyes on the fight, pretty boy,” Jain taunts. Sabo easily dodges the attack. Ace swings in with a Fire Fist, scorching Jain into blacks and blues. Ruby tries to attack from the right, but Sabo gets to her first, crushing her skull with Dragon Claw.
In the end, the fight had lasted less than a minute. Jain and Ruby lie on the floorboards, surrounded by flames. The rest of the crew cowers away, scrambling to find more boats to get off the sinking ship. Sabo exhales, relaxing, and looks at Ace.
“Ready?”Ace nods. They jump off the deck onto the closest lifeboat, the thrill of the fight still thrumming underneath their veins. Sabo hasn’t had a fight this satiating in a long time. The ocean breeze blows through Ace’s messy hair, drawing attention to his freckles that remind him of warm summers, sundried plums, and green jungles -
Sabo takes a sharp breath and kills the line of thought.
“Spy-san, I lost my ride,” Ace remarks.
“It's all on you. You set the vessel on fire,” Sabo points out. “And I have a name.”
Ace sticks his tongue out. A quiet settles between them. The freed people row the boat ahead, a small island visible on the horizon - Jaya most likely.
“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?” Sabo finds himself asking.
“I like you,” Ace replies honestly, his gaze boring into Sabo. “I don’t want to be lied to. If you cannot give me your real name, I would rather not get one.”
Sabo gulps. “Next time.”
“Next time,” Ace agrees, and they leave it at that.
By the time they sail ashore, it is midday and the sun hangs overhead in the clear blue sky. They dock at Mock Town. They receive a chorus of thank-yous from the people. Sabo mentions the revolutionary army, the usual recruitment speech. He feels satisfaction pool into his stomach as he manages to convince a good chunk of people, even without a devil fruit like Belo Betty. Ace, for all his fanfare, sits on the edge of the boat, does not interrupt, his eyes never leaving Sabo.
Eventually, they part ways, but the Grand Line is a mysterious place. They may sail in different seas with different crews on different ships, but he has no doubt they’ll find their way to each other again.