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There was something unnerving about living with your first ten years a mystery. To be a void of information, lacking the foundation that everyone else is built on. It was Sabo’s very own void century; although more accurately it should be deemed a void decade. It was nerve-wracking. A tangle of anxiety and fear in the pit of his stomach. All Sabo had known was Dragon and the revolutionary army. A group of outcasts. People who saw the truth. Who was he before all that? For a group that knew so many of the world’s secrets, Sabo couldn’t even figure out his own. He could have been an awful child. Something rabid and feral.
Koala always shut down his worries, assuring Sabo that he wasn’t like that at all when he was first found. Well, maybe a little feral, she would amend. He was too much of a firecracker at the youthful age of ten to indicate anything but a righteous existence. And he was inclined to believe her because there was no other information out there. What other option was there but to trust a cherished friend in the face of hopeless mystery?
And really, what was he to do? All he could do was carry on. Sabo continued participating in missions, training with Koala and Hack, and simply existing. He climbed the ranks of the revolutionary army; during the efforts to carry on, Sabo found that helping Dragon fight the World Government and helping the little guy placated the aching emptiness that never left his bones.
It didn’t end with the emptiness. Sabo was strange. He had quirks that didn’t have satisfying explanations. Like during spars with Koala, where foreign instinct took over Sabo’s movements, wary of out-of-reach attacks. Or the way he always wanted to keep score. Sabo had insisted enough times that a spar with him was prefaced with a non-competition clause. Except for Koala, the only one to indulge him. He always looked for a list that didn’t exist, and the subsequent realization of its nonexistence made his stomach drop.
He cursed like a sailor in tense situations. It wasn’t like the revolutionary army upheld societal pretenses of that nature. Still, the crass words that exploded from his mouth contradicted the well-kept appearance Sabo had maintained since his arrival. Some might even say he looked like a scrappy noble. He spoke like a bandit and a pirate rolled into one.
There was Sabo’s ability to maneuver through a forest with efficiency; he didn’t have to think about how to leverage himself to climb a tree or how to expertly hunt. The way he scavenged for improvised weapons and useful equipment with practised ease. Or when Sabo heard a funny joke and glanced to his sides to see the reactions of imaginary friends.
Familiar figures lurked in his dreams and stalked his thoughts. Whenever Sabo reached out a hand, laughter erupted in his ears as the figures dashed away. They were always playing a game of tag, and Sabo was always it.
Despite Sabo’s idiosyncrasies, he continued on in the fight to help the common man. To fight systems he thought unfair and to do anything to ease the stress of the unknown. To do that, information was needed. Sabo took to reading the newspaper. He frequently held a newspaper in a free hand or had one haphazardly shoved into a pocket. And it didn’t hurt that the newspaper could allow for moments of entertainment in between fighting the evil of the world and whatnot. It was about a month from Sabo’s seventeenth birthday, he remembered, because Koala had just been discussing a small celebration for him. She was always insistent on birthday celebrations; she liked to have an excuse to have good food and drink around for a night or two. The revolutionary army wasn’t starved, but an excuse for good food never hurt for a little morale boost. He read the newspaper lazily as Koala chattered about her big plans for his birthday. Something about a cake and lots of meat, and sake, and all the works.
There was news of emerging pirates. Not necessarily unusual. Given that they were another group who rejected the world government, it never hurt to keep an eye on who was doing what. They rebelled against the system, but perpetuated their own type of misery more often than not.
There was one notable pirate from the North Blue, they were calling him the ‘surgeon of death’, and another from the South Blue. He was making a name for himself by terrorizing civilians. No epithet for him, just a blurry picture of a mop of red hair. Nestled among reports of various pirate activity, a pirate from the East Blue, the same age as Sabo, was highlighted as ‘one of the most fearsome upstarts in recent years,’ or so the paper claimed.
The East Blue was thought to be the weakest of all the seas; to describe a new upstart as particularly ‘fearsome’ was a bold claim. He seemed to have made quite a name for himself already. A few notably destructive pirates seemed to meet their end once they faced this upstart. He had a wanted poster, a big grinning picture of the pirate staring right at Sabo. He was wearing an orange cowboy hat of all things. Red beads rested atop the brim, adorned with larger beads of opposing emoticons. The same beads hung around his neck. The man grinned in the photo with the kind of gravitas undeserving of someone so new to the scene. He looked like he had a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue.
Sabo stared at the photo, studying the features of the new upstart. That emptiness that plagued him ached in his chest.
Portgas D. Ace
The walls of Sabo’s throat itched, and his bones felt too big for his skin. He closed the newspaper and closed his eyes in an attempt to allow his mind to settle. He slid the paper into his pocket. He kept the newspaper. If only to have a possible clue nearby.
He turned his attention to Koala, showing an unusual level of interest in his birthday preparations. Koala didn’t mention it, rather excited at his newfound motivation. And no one said anything either, when Sabo poured three cups of sake and ultimately discarded them as his hands froze at any attempt to pass them off to any of his revolutionary friends. Or when Sabo asked when the unknown guests were going to arrive. Guests, not even Sabo had names for.
The discomfort of his strange physical reaction settled on his shoulders for the next few days. A weight that Sabo had been expertly avoiding hung on his back as a constant reminder of his long-missing memories.
It’s a few months later when the same name was in the papers again. The cocky not-so-new upstart pirate had made it to the Grand Line. According to the papers, he’d been around for less than a year and was making remarkable progress. Similar notable stories detailed the other young pirates, but no one was making the same distance as Sabo’s point of interest. Portgas D. Ace just seemed to demand his attention.
He wore the same outfit and was grinning madly in every photo they snapped of him. Portgas D. Ace’s bounty had increased since the last time. Tanned skin and crooked teeth stared back at Sabo. His head buzzed.
The sound of weapons clashing and labored breathing engulfed the air. New trainees sparred in front of Sabo. He had promised Koala and Hack to sit in on the training, largely at the request of the recruits. It was a good thing that the revolutionary army was acquiring more members, but they all looked at Sabo with wide, awe-inspired eyes. And that was strange. Sabo stood before them as a well-established member, rumored to be the future chief of staff. Everything about Sabo was a figure of admiration to them. All of which was a facade thrust upon Sabo, unwillingly. The reality was the way revolutionaries like Koala and Hack frequently protested Sabo’s regular acts of recklessness. His penchant to rush in wildly and take things on alone. Sabo was a little feral as a kid, but it didn’t all wear off by the time he hit his teens.
It came naturally to him; the energy of an untameable beast. Sabo did not miss the ironic anomaly of having relatively well-adjusted role models within the army (with a few exceptions) and turning out to be as wild as he was. God forbid a guy liked to get his blood rushing.
Despite their false assumptions, Sabo sat and observed the recruits. He offered an encouraging smile when necessary, continuing to pretend to be the upstanding revolutionary they thought him to be. His eyes studied the paper in moments of quiet. Stories of Portgas D. Ace fascinated Sabo. A pirate, the same age as Sabo, wild and free. He was making a name for himself. It was interesting to watch. Sabo almost wanted to meet Portgas D. Ace and join in on the fun. If Sabo wasn’t already committed to the cause, he might have genuinely considered becoming a pirate just to experience the intoxicating freedom of the ocean’s waves. He had never met the man, never heard of him before a few months ago, and found himself undeniably drawn to him.
A frigid breeze needled through Sabo’s gunpowder-dusted clothes. He heard grunting and screaming, guns and cannons fired in the distance. He was nestled between Koala and Hack on a battlefield of a faraway kingdom suffering under a tyrant king. A classic tale. Reinforcements were on their way, but that didn’t alleviate the artillery aimed at their heads right then and there. The hairs on Sabo’s arms raised at the sound of explosions erupting around him. Yet the same sounds above his head thrilled him. Energy danced under his skin. Sabo itched to dive into the fray. To start swinging his pipe, bashing the armored heads of royal guards.
High-pitched whistling flooded the entourage’s ears. They were outnumbered. The opposing army had a crowd of cannons locked onto them. All information pointed towards Koala, Hack, and Sabo at a disadvantage. And it all excited Sabo. He had a unique attraction to fighting enemies thrice his size. In part to assert his own strength and in part to prove he was just as strong as the phantom whispers in his head. Childish whispers squirmed in his ears. Poking fun at a sloppy arm movement or childish name-calling. They weren’t thoughts of doubt or antagonism but held a familiarity entirely foreign to Sabo.
The enemy refused to relent in their assault against Sabo, Koala, and Hack. They flattened themselves against a small stone wall. The three of them waited with baited breath for an opening. They needed only a split second to spring into action.
A large explosion erupted in front of the wall that protected them. Rubble showered the three revolutionaries. A second of silence settled on the battlefield. It was the chance they were waiting for.
“Koala, Hack. Now’s our chance. Koala goes east and Hack west, I’m going north or south, whichever needs me more.” Sabo ordered. They nodded, darting off in opposite directions. They weaved in between debris, dodging the reignited attacks. Sabo surveyed the area, glancing north and south. Fighting was loudest south of Sabo.
Citizens armed with pitchforks and dull swords clashed with the royal army, who wielded weapons that looked to have never been conflict before. Metal scraped against metal to create a cacophony of violence.
A young teenager ran past Sabo, brandishing a bent metal pipe. Stubby fingers curled around its base, and rust scrawled across its surface. The teenager swung the pipe without skill or precision, informed only by a dream of freedom. Dirt was smudged all over his face and hands. His clothes were torn and ragged, an unfortunate reflection of those most vulnerable under a tyrannical ruler. The kid still ran in spite of everything against him. Sabo grinned. His feet moved before his mind could keep up.
A royal knight in shimmering armor loomed over the teenager. The knight raised the sword above their head. Anger rolled off the teen. He moved without fear and only with reckless abandon. His own hands vaulted above his head, ready to strike against the knight in front of him.
The knight looked at the teenager with nothing more than contempt. A pebble to be kicked aside. A mere inconvenience to squash. The knight swung their arm down at full strength. The guard’s extreme force was no match for someone untrained; the teen was swept off his feet. Both he and his pipe crashed into the ground in a heap. Sabo was running faster. His feet pounded on the ground, his own labored breathing echoing in his ears.
Sabo retrieved his own pipe that was affixed to his back. Rigorous training since the age of ten (and maybe even before then) lent to Sabo’s absurd strength. He had always been strangely adept at fighting when he should have been adept at playing.
The pipe fit perfectly in Sabo’s hands as he swung down at his opponent. He had been using it for so long that there might as well be indents in the shape of his fingerprints. Sabo’s pipe smashed into the knight’s helmet. The helmet caved in at the point of impact, colliding with the skull beneath it. The knight crumpled to the ground. The teen boy was still there in a heap on the dirty ground among the rubble. He looked to be a little younger than Sabo with shaggy, black hair. Sabo picked up the pipe for him and tossed it over.
He smirked, “Nice weapon.”
The boy gave a small, appreciative smile; his own eyes danced around the pipe in Sabo’s hands. Screaming bounced off the remaining walls of the town, and the teen turned his head towards the battlefield. They kept screaming. Some were angry and, in the heat of battle, others with fear and desperation. Sabo wasn’t sure which to listen to.
“Your hands are too high. Hold the pipe closer to the base. Gives ya more leverage and power behind each strike.” Sabo said, and the boy nodded. Nostalgia tickled him. The boy’s hands shuffled further down the pipe, and he flexed his fingers. He needed both hands to grasp the pipe. The boy practiced a few strikes, eyes widening as he did so.
“Wow, it is better! Thanks!” The boy grinned back at Sabo. A dull pain settled in the back of Sabo’s head.
“And keep your center of gravity low. It's easier to dodge. I don’t wanna have to keep saving your butt,” Sabo ruffled the boy’s hair. It was greasy and coarse and familiar and unknown. The boy swatted at his hands.
Koala had once asked Sabo why he used a pipe. It was a windy day on Baltigo, and rocks and dust whipped around them. Hack had just finished with their lesson of fish-man karate, and Sabo had transitioned to training with his pipe. There were a few dummies set aside for when Sabo felt like brutalising inanimate objects with his trusty tool. He didn’t have an answer for her. Sabo didn’t even have a reason for the pipe for himself.
Sabo had tried swords and axes and spears, and polearms. Nothing felt wrong, but nothing ever sat comfortably in his hands. The hilt of a sword jabbed his palm, and the base of a spear slid in his grip. Sabo found his affinity for the common pipe on an unassuming excursion on the Grand Line that was intended to be a simple recon mission, and the very reason Sabo was even allowed to tag along many years ago. Some run-of-the-mill thief had caught him off-guard in an alley, the sword Sabo carried at the time was knocked from his grasp; by mere luck, Sabo had snatched a pipe from the ground. The dirt and grime enhanced his grip, and Sabo swung at the enemy with an unfounded confidence. A pipe was easier to maneuver than any real weapon, and who cared if it was a bit rudimentary?
It worked well, clearly seen in the way Sabo skillfully deflected and countered the attacks of the royal guards approaching. Swords might nick the metal of his pipe, or scrape against its surface, but it never lost its luster in Sabo’s eyes. He regrouped with his companions -- Hack and Koala pressed themselves against Sabo’s back. The three fought until more reinforcements came to their rescue, but none were nervous. The heat of two bodies at his back invigorated Sabo.
Wars never ended. Fighting never stopped. Something that never ended was bound to be molded for business. Weapons, rations, and the news. Endless opportunities for the greedy to benefit. Morgans was good at monopolizing off of the fearsome news of war. The News Coos delivered sensationalistic stories daily; anything to get another berry or two in their coin purses. It seemed that Doflamingo was spearheading the weapons trading in Dressrosa, knowing no more than that was difficult when it came to a warlord made king. Who in the world thought state-sanctioned pirates were a good thing? Wasn’t that against the whole pirate thing? If Sabo were a pirate, he would just aim to be free.
A newspaper was tucked under Sabo’s arm again. He sat alone in one of the strategy rooms. Cold light filtered in from cracked windows. He could hear some of the younger members giggling outside. Indulging in the joys of childhood. Sabo turned his eyes to the newspaper. There were rumors of a new war brewing in the South Blue between two powerhouses. He was keen to keep an eye on the current news surrounding it. Sabo was always curious to see what Morgans was peddling, and if it was worth peddling, then it was usually worth Sabo’s attention. Usually, as the keyword.
Dracule Mihawk seemed to be on the move. Unfortunately, an irritating crew crossed his path and discovered what happens when you get on his bad side. As expected, there were rumblings in the South Blue of an emerging war. The King of the instigating country was reaching out to allies for supplemental soldiers and weapons. Sabo turned two more pages before coming across a familiar face. Portgas D. Ace was grinning at Sabo once more, with the imposing visage of Edward Newgate above him. The Spade Pirates were now a part of the Whitebeard Pirates, further bolstering the Whitebeard armada.
It wasn’t easy to join the ranks of the Whitebeard pirates. Joining up with any emperor was a demonstration of power. The whispers on the sea were that Whitebeard was particular about who got to earn the title of son. The crew was like a family. Of the Whitebeard pirates, fellow revolutionaries have encountered, that crew took their bond more seriously than most.
Sabo found himself smiling, something akin to pride warming his heart. It wasn’t often that a prominent up-and-coming pirate was scooped up by an emperor. Let alone so publicly. The Whitebeards were a good place for Portgas D. Ace. They would embrace all the snark Sabo could see oozing off his wanted poster and the destructiveness highlighted in every article about him. There were even whispers of climbing the ranks. Supposedly, Portgas D. Ace challenged both Whitebeard and Knight of the Sea Jinbe to a duel. A brave move that might prove some kind of mettle. If you asked Sabo, it was all utterly ridiculous. He lost naturally. Sabo couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.
The title of second division commander was long held empty; some of the crazier theorists posited that Ace might soon earn that title. It was undoubtedly an impressive feat. Sabo felt himself grinning ear to ear as he read the news.
Foreign emotions crept up on Sabo. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face or dispel the giddy way his knee bounced up and down. They were all warm, gooey, happy feelings, but the mysterious origin of his emotions always left a sour taste in his mouth. Sabo didn’t like living as the embodiment of the unknown. He was a proud member of the revolutionary army, someone who was strong and intelligent and cunning and fearless. All of which meant Sabo should be smart enough to decipher his own feelings; the information should all be in his head in theory. Pain prickled the base of his head whenever he tried to be smart and cunning by digging through his own head. Anything to decipher the mystery of his life. Unknown voices muddled his ears, and the laughs of children danced in the back of his mind. Sabo always reached out for those moments of memory, only for them to slip from his hands like sand. Falling deep into the murky waters of his mind.
Portgas D. Ace was officially named the second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. The second division was as rowdy as they came. They fought and conquered; they laughed in the faces of enemies; they made friends wherever they went. In every picture, Portgas D. Ace was beaming. He looked elated to be leading the ragtag bunch. He was surrounded by family. People he loved and that loved him. Sabo’s heart stung.
There was a death, and suddenly, Portgas D. Ace was off on his own journey to avenge his crewmate. It seemed not even Morgans had the scoop; the lack of information was unnerving. Portgas D. Ace disappeared from the public eye. Sabo tucked the newspaper away with the other pages he collected with Portgas D. Ace’s name on it.
A reminiscent face was splayed across the front page of the newspaper. It looked sort of like Portgas D. Ace but without the freckles, a scar under his left eye, and younger. Similar shaggy hair and a tan, and unearned overconfidence. He was grinning madly in his wanted poster, much too jovial for the evil pirate the paper was painting him to be. He waved to the camera, just excited to be there. Monkey D. Luffy had just defeated the Arlong Pirates, who had been occupying a collection of islands in the East Blue. The same sea from which Portgas D. Ace originated. The same sea where Sabo was found.
Monkey D. Luffy defeated Arlong and liberated the islands; although, if Sabo were to believe the ink on the page, the ‘Straw Hat’ pirates were attempting to claim the Conomi Islands as their own. He doubted that was the truth; more likely the typical fearmongering from the Marines. The pirates left no mark of their own on the island and left no casualties or injured bodies beyond members of the Arlong pirates. Although the paper had a handful of reports of theft, but a relatively minor infraction in the grand scope of things. There was always a chance that Monkey D. Luffy and the Straw Hat pirates didn’t liberate the people from the goodness of their hearts. There could be a thousand ulterior motives. But the people were free now. The result was a net positive; Sabo didn’t feel the need to concern himself with the means before the end.
Another name moved to occupy the same space as Portgas D. Ace in Sabo’s mind. Monkey D. Luffy danced around Sabo’s thoughts. The ‘D’ reared its head yet again in the course of history. Most notably, Gol D. Roger, and even then, the government tried to rebrand him as Gold Roger. To hide the will of D. Maybe that was the reason Sabo was enraptured by these two mysterious figures. It's not like anyone knew what the will of D was; it could be anything (just like how his void of memories could be anything). Ever since Portgas D. Ace’s name appeared in the newspaper, Sabo waited with baited breath for his next mention. He feared the same anticipation would accompany the name Monkey D. Luffy.
Sabo was uncomfortably reminded of the drawer in his room that was filled with articles and pictures of Portgas D. Ace. All the ones Sabo could get his hands on.
That same tightness in Sabo’s chest constricted his breathing, and his skin felt phantom hands claw at him. It was reassuring to feel something, to be reminded that he was human beyond where his memories can reach, but any joy or uncertainty or frustration was empty at its core. Those feelings and sensations belonged to someone else. And yet he could never resist picking up a newspaper and searching for familiar names despite it all.
Monkey D. Luffy defeated a Warlord of the Sea. Crocodile, to be exact. Dragon had raised an eyebrow at the news before appearing to refocus on the battlemap in front of him. Sabo scoured the story for every detail. Calloused fingers traced the words on the page. Ink dusted Sabo’s fingertips. His bones ached to know everything. How did Luffy do it? Why? Who helped him? What about his crew? Where were they during it all? There were rumors of a connection with the Alabasta royal family. The newspaper published photos of Marine ships littering the shore, and an older man dressed as the young princess of Alabasta holding a microphone connected to a speaker transponder snail. The curious pictures taunted Sabo. He wanted to know. He needed to know. As of late, Sabo had made peace with the existence of his frequent and ardently odd desires. One of which was keeping up with Monkey D. Luffy’s escapades; now that news of Portgas D. Ace was far and few between.
He wouldn’t admit the lack of news surrounding Portgas D. Ace was unnerving. Nor would he admit the way anxiety welled in his veins, rushing to his head with fervent haste.
Koala peered over Sabo’s shoulder, her eyes lingered on his tense hands. The bounty on Monkey D. Luffy’s head increased following Crocodile’s defeat. Going from thirty million to a hundred million was no small feat. That’s not even mentioning how impressive it was that his very first bounty started at thirty million. Koala whistled lowly at the poster and clapped Sabo’s shoulder.
“Looks like your favorite celebrity got an upgrade.” Koala hummed; the other revolutionaries in the room snickered.
“Nah, his favorite has got to be Fire Fist. He’s always lookin’ for him in articles.” Other revolutionaries piped up, laughing among themselves.
Sabo swatted at Koala, “You know, I’m just keeping up to date on the news. Can’t a guy read the newspaper in peace!”
The others giggled around him as Sabo fought a blush. He was about to be named Chief of Staff, and Sabo couldn’t even stealthily peruse the newspaper. It was embarrassing.
“Aw, come on, guys. Sabo is just a fanboy at heart.” Koala teased with a cat-like grin. She poked one of his cheeks. Heat burned Sabo’s ears.
“Listen, it is very important to keep track of what the new generation of pirates is doing. And look! Crocodile was defeated, this is big news!” Sabo tapped the paper for emphasis, all in an attempt to defend his now known, long-standing investments in two pirates’ lives. The enthusiasm leaking into his movements did little to help his case. Koala raised a brow at him.
“He’s right.” Dragon agreed, and the room fell silent. Their commander’s eyes stayed focused on the map in front of him, reconfiguring the alignment of troops. It was a moment of satisfaction to receive support from Dragon, only to be followed by further questions in Sabo’s mind. Logically correct, but Dragon usually stayed out of petty squabbles. A point of interest that Sabo was unable to linger on for long.
“See! I am just keeping up with relevant news. And it takes a little bit off our plate too, no need to concern ourselves with the rebellion in Alabasta.”
Koala sighed, draping herself over Sabo’s shoulder to look at the newspaper again. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right, fanboy. And hopefully, this Monkey D. Luffy keeps helping us and not hurting us.”
“We’ll have to see.” Sabo nodded.
Big news hit Blatigo. The government took major damage from one of Sabo’s favorite pirates. Monkey D. Luffy had broken into Enies Lobby. A government property that was said to be impenetrable, in the same way Impel Down was. There were only two ways in, supposedly. Both entrances were meant to be guarded by Marines, and yet they were bested by a rookie. Monkey D. Luffy infiltrated and escaped one of the government’s most secure strongholds. Sabo laughed. His laugh rocketed down the hall. It was comical -- a newly emerged pirate did more damage than the revolutionary army did in Sabo’s lifetime. The revolutionary army did good work, but they were tiptoeing while Monkey D. Luffy was sprinting.
That isn’t to say that the revolutionary army was ineffective in their movements. Deliberate and calculated moves continued to build in preparation for the real battle to begin. Dragon was more intentional with their movements than a pirate driven by the fickle breeze of the sea.
And it was all done for Nico Robin. She was believed to be the only person alive who could read the Poneglyphs; the government viewed her as an active threat to their authority just for possessing uncommon knowledge. Monkey D. Luffy had declared war on the world government just to save a friend. His crew burned a world government flag. Any disrespect to the world government was seen as aggression.
Maybe the whole event was because Monkey D. Luffy needed to read the Poneglyphs, maybe he was conniving and vicious (and that would mean it was never an endeavor for a friend or loved one, an alternative Sabo couldn’t find credibility in). A pirate with a hundred million bounty was unlikely to be kind; to garner a bounty that high, he must be wicked. Sabo found himself doubtful. He had no reason to believe otherwise besides the itch deep in his soul.
Monkey D. Luffy treated the world government as an inconvenience. What other pirate would dare to infiltrate a renowned government institution and then tell them to go screw themselves? An utterly baffling and naive, and straightforward approach to the world.
And Sabo loved it. Something about the simplicity elated Sabo. Made him grin wildly in the comfort of his own space.
It occurred to Sabo that he might like to meet Monkey D. Luffy at some point during his travels. He seemed funny. He seemed like someone to stand firm on his beliefs and exist as an immovable object. He seemed caring. That was enough to build interest within Sabo. While he was at it, maybe Portgas D. Ace too. He could dip his toe into the fun Ace and Luffy always seemed to be having.
Marshall D. Teach used to be a member of the Whitebeard Pirates. Supposedly, he was a part of the crew for decades. Now he was making a name for himself as a terrifying pirate. Ravaging towns, attacking former crewmembers. He was the one who killed Thatch, one of Portgas D. Ace’s. The fact that he killed Thatch wasn’t public information; Sabo was only able to hear whispers from his own personal intel channels. Portgas D. Ace was missing from recent news. Sabo could only assume he was going after Teach. Thatch was a part of the second division, after all. And he just seemed the type.
Monkey D. Luffy fought another Warlord. Gecko Moria, the ruler over shadows, with a ship the size of an island and a formidable crew of his own. The newspaper featured a photo of a battered white face collapsed in an escaping boat. Moria barely escaped the same fate as Crocodile; embarrassed by their utter defeat at the hands of a rookie with shaggy black hair and a shit-eating grin. Less satisfying was the familiar name in the article.
Dragon looked at the news with Sabo. The Florian Triangle’s reputation preceded it; not even Morgans had reliable reach in there. His notorious journalists gathered what they could second-hand from those freed from Thriller Bark. Sabo smiled to himself, chest swelling with pride for Monkey D. Luffy’s most recent destructive achievement. The pirate continued on his deranged conquest of ruffling the government’s feathers. Yet, before Sabo was even able to savor the warmth in his chest, the sight of Kuma’s emotionless face churned his stomach.
It was a quiet day on Baltigo of worried glances and despondent sighs. Kuma’s name hovered on the tongue of every commander and veteran soldier. The warm smile from a warm friend they all came to know was gone faster than anyone cared to fathom. Sabo flopped onto the bed in his quarters. Memories of Kuma’s comforting words and generous heart bubbled behind Sabo’s eyes. A rare instance, Sabo had memories he could remember and cherish. The newspaper was still clutched in his hands. He tore the pages about Monkey D. Luffy and Kuma off the newspaper’s main body, tucking them away with the rest of his stashed memorabilia.
Portgas D. Ace was captured by the Marines. First, he was defeated by Marshall D. Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard. The same man who killed Thatch. So said the revolutionaries’ information networks. The same man Portgas D. Ace was chasing, Sabo just knew. Same man who doomed Portgas D. Ace. The man who signed his death warrant. After their fight, the Marines captured Ace. Blackbeard earned a warlord title as a result. Ace was being held in Impel Down, an execution scheduled in two weeks. Impel down was the most secure government facility. Although the same was said about Enies Lobby.
Sabo sat motionless in the revolutionary army’s war room. Others murmured around him. It was bad news. Nothing good could come from it.
It had been a very long time since the Marines put this much effort into an execution. Gol D. Roger might have been the last, and that was the Pirate King. Portgas D. Ace was just a Whitebeard commander, who, in all his glory, did not measure up to the legendary figure. Sabo could not think of a single reason to target Ace specifically. Was a war with Whitebeard really worth it? For what reason? And to what end?
The Marines were guaranteed to experience significant losses. It was by no mistake that Whitebeard had maintained his status as an Emperor for decades. The last of Roger’s peers to still stand tall.
The reason didn’t matter much to Sabo if he was being completely honest. Whatever it was, it didn't make it right. It was stupid and dangerous and plain unfair. Crocodile gets to sit pretty in Impel Down after terrorizing an entire country for years, Blackbeard gets to be a Warlord despite his bloodshed, and corrupt Warlords ruling countries like Dressrosa continue to bathe in their stolen luxuries. There were heaps of despicable people to execute and make an example of, but the government decided Whitebeard was too powerful for too long; Portgas D. Ace was a casualty of the Marines’ grandstanding. They would rather kill some pirate than help those who suffer under their own rule. Not that Sabo would expect any different.
“We have to do something.” Sabo blurted. All the usual players were in the war room. Belo Betty was bent over a recent report, a cigarette hanging from her mouth. Smoke curled around her. Morley had dug herself a nook to cozy up in for the conversation, while Lindbergh was sitting beside Karasu across the room. They were chatting about an upcoming venture, something in the North Blue. Koala sat beside Sabo.
“And what would that be?” Betty peered over her sunglasses to look at Sabo.
Every nerve in his body was screaming. He wanted to run and fight and just do something. Rationally, Sabo had no reason to stand up for Portgas D. Ace. There was no apparent need to involve the revolutionary army. He questioned his own instincts. Why run? Why fight? Why do anything? It didn’t make sense, and when the enemy was the world government, a reason was needed. To involve themselves now risked putting the revolutionary army’s long-built plans at risk.
Sabo spent a lot of time falling back on instincts. He fought with a pipe due to instinct, could navigate a jungle on instinct alone, hell, Sabo could even pickpocket on instinct. He could do it all in his sleep. Sabo’s body was programmed to be someone he had never met.
“I don’t know! It’s just- just why this one pirate?” He doesn’t deserve it, Sabo wanted to say without any basis of reason. The words burned on his tongue. Sabo believed so deeply in the good character of a pirate he’d never met. A pirate of all things, and yet Sabo had to admit he had a soft spot for shaggy-haired pirates. “Why execute him of all people? It's way too harsh!”
Sabo threw his hands in the air, frustrated. Belo Betty sighed, a puff of smoke following her breath. No one disagreed with him, but Sabo didn’t miss the curious eyes on his figure. He wasn’t one to act out like this. He might be reckless and bull-headed, but Sabo was smart and rational. It was stupid to charge into the fray. And yet Sabo’s body itched to fight. Every second Sabo stayed put, the more energy built up under his skin until it felt like his body was on fire.
“I’m sure Whitebeard’ll save him. Plus, it's too soon to show our hand.” Betty said. She was placating him. And she was right, Sabo knew she was right. There was a reason Whitebeard was still feared, why he was able to maintain the position he had. But Sabo knew one thing: this was all wrong. None of this was supposed to happen.
Sabo left the room in a huff with the newspaper still in hand. The paper scrunched up under his grip. He wasn’t going to do anything rash. Sabo wasn’t that dumb. He was smart. Smarter than most. He just needed to hit something. The training grounds had a few revolutionaries milling about. Some of the newer recruits were practicing Fishman Karate, likely taught by Hack. Sabo got his own dummy to practice with, his pipe held loosely in his dominant hand. Fishman karate took thought and skill; Sabo just wanted to bash something.
When Sabo first joined the revolutionary army, he was a ten-year-old kid full of rage. Rage from memories he couldn’t remember, and rage from the fact that he couldn’t remember those memories. The rage got easier with the addition of friends to his life. His blood didn’t boil to the same degree. The revolutionary army was a family to him, but he wished he knew if he had another family out there. Waiting for him.
Did his family ever think about him? Did they stay up countless nights waiting for his return? Did he have a family at all?
The pipe bashed into the dummy in front of him, straw exploding from the seams with each hit. Sabo aimed for faux vital points. Koala and Hack and Dragon and Betty and Lindhberg and everyone else were his family, but Sabo always had this itch in the back of his head that said there was more. He just knew that someone or someones were out there. And what if they needed him? What if he was supposed to be protecting someone? Helping them? There were people out there for him, and that thought was always accompanied by the names Monkey D. Luffy and Portgas D. Ace. People seemed to be too invested in it for no apparent reason.
Who were they? Why did Sabo feel so drawn? He swung his pipe wide, landing a hit on the dummy’s midsection. A real person would have had a few broken ribs. Sparring always brought him some kind of calmness. Sabo usually won, and he liked to keep score. No one else did, but Sabo was dutiful to his tally with Koala and anyone else who would entertain him.
More straw burst from the dummy. The Baltigo air was cold; the icy metal of the pipe stung Sabo’s hands. His hands stiffened in the frigid breeze. An image of Portgas D. Ace kneeling on an execution stand appeared in Sabo’s mind. Ragged and beaten, dirt covering his torso, and his head hanging hopelessly. He’d never seen Portgas D. Ace in person, but it felt so clear, so obvious. For a second, Sabo could imagine Portgas D. Ace as a child, merely ten years old, kneeling on the execution stand. He isn’t beaten in this visage but just as haggard. Ratty black hair and freckles covered his face; he didn’t hang his head. He was a child with more hate inscribed on his face than Sabo was prepared for. It flashed in his mind, followed by a sharp ringing in his ear. Sabo swung the pipe again with all the force he could muster. The dummy clattered to the floor in an underwhelming explosion of straw, no longer usable.
Other recruits looked over to Sabo, panting with a hand clutching at his head. Sweat ran down his back, sending a chill down his spine as cold air weaved its way under his jacket. Sabo had never seen Portgas D. Ace; he had never even imagined him beyond the wanted poster. Yet his mind dared to venture beyond his genuine knowledge. There was no way for Sabo to confirm that it was an accurate depiction of Ace as a child. But it didn’t occur to Sabo to doubt his illogical resolution.
A hand touched Sabo’s shoulder. Pipe still in hand, he whipped around with fleeting manic energy. Koala easily grabbed the pipe mid-swing. She furrowed her brows at Sabo. The eyes of bystanders bore into him.
“Sorry.” Sabo breathed.
“You’re acting weird. Like really weird.” Koala’s words were filled with concern. She let go of the pipe, and the palm of her hand was red. Sabo could only imagine how frenzied he looked in the moment. Wild breathing, windswept hair. The new recruits on the training ground were having their image of ‘Soon-to-be Chief of Staff Sabo’ brought to reality. Koala took his hand gently and guided him inside. She found a quiet corner to tuck themselves into. “Seriously, what’s your deal with Fire Fist Ace?”
And Sabo wished he knew.
“It feels like I have to do something, I don’t know how else to explain it.” He was trying not to be frantic, trying to put himself back together.
“Sabo, I know it's unfair, but Whitebeard is going to fight for him. That’s got to be enough, right?” Koala was almost begging Sabo to resign himself to the fact that he, personally, could do nothing. And he couldn’t.
“No, No, Koala, I can’t let this go.” Sabo rubbed the left side of his face; his scar burned. “There is something about this that isn’t right.”
That’s the only word Sabo could formulate. It wasn’t right, everything was wrong. None of this was supposed to happen; that’s all he could keep repeating to himself. Pirates aren’t supposed to die like this. They’re supposed to be free.
“I know, the whole world government is unfair.”
And it wasn’t the world government and its general nature of injustice; it was the fact that Ace was up there. Ace should be far, far away from any execution stand. He should be sailing on the sea with salt-crusted hair and freedom in every breath. He should be smiling, just like his wanted poster.
“He should be free. And this? This isn’t free.”
She stared at him, working through his words. Her eyes danced around Sabo. Koala knew about his lack of memory. And the way he spoke about pirates and Portgas D. Ace with strange familiarity was, well, strange. She knew how a lack of memories affected Sabo; how he used to cry when he thought no one was around, but Koala always was. And what were you meant to say to someone desperate for something out of reach? When the thing they’ve been hoping for for so long was about to be torn from them? At the very least, it was nice to have a constant presence. There was comfort in having someone behind you at all times.
“We don’t know him, Sabo. Everyone should be free, but… this sounds like more than that.” Koala said, she met his eyes boldly. “You feel like he, Portgas D. Ace specifically, should be free, don’t you?”
Sabo itched his scar. “I don’t know. I can’t remember knowing him, and I don’t know why I care. But I know that Portgas D. Ace should be free and nothing less.”
Something akin to familiarity crept into the back of Sabo’s mind. A memory that dared to approach the light. And as always, the memory was just out of reach. Every time Sabo grasped for anything of substance, his hands found themselves digging through a sea of never-ending questions with no answers in sight. All he had was sea salt from the dried-up seawater on his hands. There was nothing of substance to hold, but there was still something there.
Portgas D. Ace was on the butcher block, and Sabo couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.
“Just don’t do anything stupid, fanboy.” She lightly punched his shoulder before giving him a second alone.
“I don’t even know what to be stupid about.” Sabo laughed numbly.
Sabo barely slept that night. He had his own quarters, a nice privilege given to Sabo when he started leading his own missions. And he was grateful for that because he was sure his tossing and turning was louder than any snoring a human could muster. A creeping sense of doom fended off any wishes for sleep.
Amid Sabo’s meager bouts of sleep, he got flashes of a jungle, of children running with pipes slung over their backs. Sometimes he was one of them, and sometimes Sabo saw them from afar. He always tried to run after them. His legs burned in the dream.
The kids fought tigers and bears and each other. And Sabo was happy. He was smiling wide enough to hurt his cheeks. When chasing after them. In those moments, he was free.
When Sabo woke up, there was an ache in his chest in the shape of two shadowy figures.
The revolutionary army had a phenomenal network of information. They’ve even got some of Morgans' reporters sliding them information here and there. And that was impressive considering their dedication to journalistic integrity. An even more astounding feat, revolutionaries have been able to infiltrate Impel Down. They had a few members captured there -- notably Inazuma and Ivankov -- so it was helpful to have an ear or two inside to check on their people.
The commanders of each army, including Sabo, huddled around a white snail transponder. The message was crackling and uncertain, but they recognized a familiar voice. The snail on the other end was rustled around before anything could be deciphered.
“Give me the snail, Straw-boy! Dragon! Good to talk to you again, old friend.” Emporio Ivankov was on the other end, sounding as joyful as ever despite his stint in Impel Down. “What? Wait- wait-”
Another voice wrestled for the snail; someone was shouting and grabbing at the snail. A beat of silence. A loud voice took over the snail. “Hello! My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, and I’m going to save my brother!”
Sabo’s head buzzed.
Ivankov yelled in the back some more, arguing with Monkey D. Luffy before he got the snail back. “Who else is there? Belo Betty? Lindbergh? Karasu?”
Voices overlapped as each commander clambered to be the first voice Iva heard. It was exciting to hear the voice of a long-gone friend, but Sabo was stuck on the voice of Monkey D. Luffy bursting through the snail. He was going to save Portgas D. Ace. His brother. Except they had different last names, they weren’t related by blood. But Sabo was sure they were brothers. The pirate just said it, and Sabo didn’t doubt him. Not even for a moment.
Even Dragon looked taken aback once Luffy’s bellowing voice echoed over the snail.
“Dragon, you there? I’m with Straw-boy on the way to Portgas D. Ace. When will you all be here?” Sabo blinked; the other commanders followed suit.
“And why would we be going?” Belo Betty inquired. She glanced at Dragon, who seemed to be just as confused.
“For Ace, your son?”
Silence.
Luffy’s muffled voice piped up, “Huh? Dragon, like my dad? Me and Ace don’t have the same Dad. His is Gol D. Roger. Mine’s Monkey D. Dragon, or that's what Gramps said at least.”
That explained two things: one, why the government was taking Ace so seriously, and two, why Dragon always let his eyes wander to Luffy’s posters. All of which was irrelevant to Sabo at that moment. The commanders all spoke over each other again, yelling back and forth. Monkey D. Luffy’s voice rang in his ears. It was deeper than Sabo expected and it was strange he even had expectations. He was a pirate, it’s not like Monkey D. Luffy was a child or anything surprising.
“Oh, oops. He doesn’t like it when people mention that, so don’t tell him I told ya.”
Sabo knew that too. He knew Ace liked to go by Portgas and not Gol.
Monkey D. Luffy laughed through the snail. “But it's okay! I’m gonna be the next pirate king, and then Ace can be related to a pirate king he actually likes!”
The moment he declared himself to be the Pirate King, Sabo felt his chest swell with pride. It was the second time he said it, and Sabo could feel how much Luffy meant it. Of course, he would say that; he was never one to give up on something, Sabo thought.
Amidst the clamor about Dragon’s newly discovered son and the identity of Portgas D. Ace, a stabbing pain erupted in Sabo’s head. It was like an ice pick was hammering into his skull. Luffy’s voice boomed in his head. He was loud and brash. Sabo would dare to say a little, high-pitched. And his laugh shattered Sabo’s eardrums. It exploded through the snail and drilled into Sabo’s heart. He knew that voice. He wanted to reach out and embrace that voice.
Sabo’s knees buckled under him, and he clutched his head once again, grabbing at his scar. He was so close to knowing; so close to understanding who Ace and Luffy were to him. The two of them were someone important, but Sabo couldn’t grasp why. Why did he care so much about either of them? Why did he indulge the impulse to collect any and all articles and wanted posters of them? Luffy’s voice emerged from the snail again. Something about his resolve to save Ace. Determination emphasized his every word. Sabo wanted to respond. He wanted to agree, but the pain overwhelmed him entirely. All Sabo could do was focus on staying conscious.
Images of green grass and vines, of his trusty pipe in much smaller hands, of a black flag waving above a tree with ‘ASL’ scrawled on it in three distinct colors flashed in his head. Each visage was another ice pick splitting Sabo’s skull in two. Childlike voices rang in his ears. Sabo’s breathing was labored. Sweat rolled down his temple.
Someone said his name, and a hand landed on Sabo’s shoulder. It was Belo Betty. She said his name again.
“Sabo? Sabo. What’s wrong?”
“My. Head.” Sabo gritted out. The snail was still talking. It sounded like Iva’s voice, but Sabo couldn’t focus long enough to confirm. There was more noise from the snail, and other revolutionaries started speaking to Sabo. He was no longer standing; loose pebbles dragged in from Baltigo’s rocky exterior dug into his knees.
Rustling and talking and breathing muddled the air around Sabo. The voices of children still bounced around his ears like marbles.
“Oi. What’s that name someone just said?” Luffy had the snail again. He sounded less jovial this time.
Betty spoke up first with narrowed eyes. “It was the name of a fellow revolutionary. Why does it matter?”
“It sounded like you said Sabo. Did you say Sabo?!” His voice got louder, and the eyes of the snail bulged. Sabo’s head felt like it was going to explode. Luffy knew his name. Of course, he knew his name.
“And if I did?” Betty asked.
“Sabo?! With blonder hair and had a top hat with goggles and from Goa and has a pipe and-”
The taste of sake settled on the back of Sabo’s tongue.
Betty bent down to Sabo’s level, “Do you know him, Sabo?”
He did. He wanted to nod. Moving was hard when just shifting Sabo’s eyes sent electricity shooting through his nerves. He thought he nodded amid the blinding pain. Or at least something close to a nod.
“Hey! Hey!” Luffy bellowed through the snail, “Let me talk to my brother!”
The ice pick shattered Sabo’s skull. Luffy and Ace were Sabo’s brothers. They swore to each other in childhood over a cup of sake. They were Sabo’s family. Not those jerks up in Hightown, not the people who decimated Gray Terminal. The young, ferocious boys who ran amok in the forest were his family. Dadan and Makino, too. The kind women who watched over the three of them. Despite all of Dadan’s protests.
It was a celestial dragon that attacked Sabo and made him forget everything. He decimated Sabo’s ship, the one with his own jolly roger flying at its tip. That’s where his scar came from. An eternal reminder of the life he should have had.
And all that meant his brother, practically his twin, was up for execution. Ace was going to die.
“Luffy...” Sabo croaked. The world fell to darkness as Sabo’s body collided with the floor.
Memories. Genuine memories flooded Sabo’s mind. He remembered his days in Gray Terminal, robbing other delinquents with Ace. They had a fearsome reputation. Most inhabitants of Gray Terminal would sneer at just the mention of their names. Arrogant kids who thought they could get away with anything. The two of them were menaces, and they loved it. He could remember the stench of Gray Terminal; sweat and despair reeked off its every inch, but the freedom it permitted Sabo was exhilarating.
Gray Terminal may have reeked, but High Town was foul. The people there were worse than the criminals in Gray Terminal. Including Stelly and his parents. Sabo was right that there was a family out there, waiting for him. It wasn’t his father or mother in High Town; it was most definitely not Stelly. It was Ace and Luffy, who he had been unconsciously following for years. His heart always knew even when his head didn’t.
Warmth flooded Sabo’s chest. His heart felt complete again. He could remember everything. The awful times, like when Luffy got kidnapped by Porchemy and his gang, beaten half to death, but he never gave them up. Luffy was loyal to Sabo and Ace since the first day they met. He could laugh at the memories of their sparring, recount their long list of tallied fights. He wondered if that makeshift sign was still there. He wondered if their tree house still existed. Maybe Dadan kept a keepsake for them. Sabo could even reminisce on Dadan and Makino, their scoldings and embraces. They were the two kindest adults in their lives -- Shanks too, but just for Luffy. It was all returning to him. Sabo could finally go home.
None of it had ever truly left Sabo. He still felt at home scaling a tree or crawling through a jungle. He was still competitive, too. Sabo loved to spar, to count all his wins. He could tap into his skilled mischief like he was still slinking through Gray Terminal. Sabo had it all engraved in his soul. The love he had for his brothers and the love they had for him was always there. Sabo just didn’t know it.
Light filtered through Sabo’s eyelids. A dull ache throbbed in the back of his head. It had a bit of a lump. There was a blanket laid over him, and the bed felt familiar. He was in his own room on Baltigo. That wasn’t where he was before, right? Sabo rose slowly, leaning on an arm. His mind was fuzzy. There was something he needed to do. Something to do with Ace and Luffy. Where were they again?
Execution. Ace was getting executed. He was going to die. Sabo’s blood went cold.
Sabo scrambled up from his bed. He was wearing some kind of infirmary clothing, loose white linens. Must have been because he collapsed. Sabo’s body ached; his muscles were stiff. He slammed the door to his quarters open, neglecting to even put on a pair of slippers. Sabo ran barefoot through the halls. Other revolutionaries stared at him as he ran. Their eyes were wide and nervous.
His feet pounded on the ground. Pebbles and dirt buried themselves in his feet. Sabo didn’t have time to lose. If he had been out a couple of hours, he would barely have any time to make it to Ace. To help Luffy save him. And what kind of big brother would he be to leave it all to Luffy?
Desperation clawed at Sabo’s lungs; he could barely get a full breath in, but he kept running. Running and running and running. He rounded every corner fast and recklessly. It took more time than one would think before colliding with a figure. Sabo crashed onto the floor. He’d probably get a bruise or two from the fall. Koala stared at Sabo. She sat on the floor across from him.
Koala smiled, a breath of relief released. Sabo was awake and seemingly healthy. That was good news. She felt reprieve for a moment before her face fell. Koala was horrified. Widened eyes, a slightly parted mouth as she grasped for words. A cold sweat gathered on her brow. And Sabo had no time for any of it.
“Koala! I have to go! I have to get to Marineford.” Sabo scrambled up, dusting off his pants as an excuse to catch his breath for a moment. Koala jumped up with him. Sabo swung his head left and right, “Where’s Dragon? I need to get approval for resources.”
Or he could just leave. It might be harder without the backup that approval would grant him, but the fastest option was the best option. Sabo was sure Dragon would understand. Luffy turned out to be his son after all, and this was important to Luffy. Maybe it was best to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.
“Sabo… I don’t think-”
“What? Dragon will say no?” Maybe Sabo really should just go and figure it out later.
“No, Sabo, I have bad news.” Koala looked up at him with pity. Pity. Pity never meant anything good.
Dread settled in Sabo’s stomach. Something happened. Something bad.
“Can’t it wait? I have to get to Ace.” Tears welled in Koala’s eyes.
“You’ve been asleep for three days, Sabo.” Three days? That was much too long. What if something happened? Was Luffy okay? Was Ace? Sabo needed to move faster. He shifted back and forth, from one leg to another; he was getting ready to run.
“Well then, I have to go to where they are. I have to check on Ace and Luffy.” Panic bled into his voice. Desperation leached from his lungs and into his blood. His body ached to move, to run, to do anything to stave off the panic that was infecting Sabo’s very existence. Blood pounded in his ears; he couldn’t breathe anymore. “I have to go now, Koala. I’ve been gone for so long. Hell, they thought I was dead!”
Sabo wanted to cry. All of this wasn’t supposed to happen. The three of them were meant to go out to sea together. To be on one ship, fighting over who got to be captain. Squabbling over the last piece of food, laughing under the stars, and rocked to sleep by the waves.
“I know. I heard Luffy was pretty happy that you weren’t dead.” Koala gave him a small smile, empty of any authentic joy. “Luffy is okay. Iva called in after the war.”
He wanted to feel relief. Sabo wanted to be happy. His baby brother was safe. But Koala hadn’t said anything about Ace, and she was looking at him with tears in her eyes, and he could practically see her beating around the bush. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to know. Just when Sabo’s cherished memories were returned to him, they were ripped from him the very same.
“He was pretty beat up! But I’m sure you know how resilient he is. Seems like Luffy is pretty strong.” Koala kept talking about Luffy, telling Sabo all the things he already knew. Sabo knew Luffy was strong. Sabo knew Luffy could push through the rough better than anyone he’s ever met. Better than him or Ace. Sabo knew Luffy was good at surviving. And Koala wouldn’t say the one thing he didn’t know. She bit her lip, threading her hands together.
“Don’t say it.” Sabo whimpered. He couldn’t even muster the strength to speak up. Koala grasped his hand. It was gentle and apologetic. “Please don’t.”
“I’m sorry, Sabo. Ace was killed at the Battle of Marineford. The Whitebeard pirates lost. The Marines won.”
The world around Sabo shattered. He sobbed.
“Who killed him?” It was barely a whisper between hiccups, but Sabo had to know. Who killed his brother?
“An admiral. Akainu.”
Ace was condemned to death just because of a father he rejected. A father he hated. No one acknowledged his mother, who sacrificed her life for him. No one knew the name Portgas D. Rouge. The woman who held him in her womb months past term. The woman who Ace idolized. They all focused on Gol D. Roger. Some guy who just happened to be King of the Pirates and Ace’s father. It wasn’t like they cared about who Roger was in reality. Just his self-proclaimed title. What about Portgas D. Ace? He wasn’t Gol D. Ace, he was Portgas D. Ace. And they all ignored it. Akainu ignored it. Killed his brother for nothing.
Tears streamed down Sabo’s cheeks. Air evaded him. Luffy was there. He must have seen Ace die. He must have tried so hard to save their brother. His dear, crybaby brother watched Ace die. Luffy, who took a beating at seven, just for the two of them. Luffy used to cry whenever he was left alone. It didn't matter if it was for an hour or half a day, Luffy would burst into tears with each sob, making his body tremble. He hated being alone. And now he was alone for real. Ace was never coming back. He was dead. Luffy was somewhere out on the sea, alone. And Sabo had left him alone for ten years.
Sobs assaulted Sabo’s body. Passing revolutionaries stared at him. The future Chief of Staff was crumpled on the ground, wracked with sobs. His chest heaved in and out, desperately grasping for breath. He coughed intermittently, the sheer force of his cries shredding his throat. Despair coiled around his limbs. Sabo’s mind raced with ‘what ifs ' of all the things he should have done. All the things he could have done to save his brother. His muscles turned to cement, and the will to move escaped him the moment his dream to see Ace again died. There was no more hope. Nothing else to dream of.
“But don’t forget, there’s still someone waiting for you out there,” Koala said. She grabbed his arms, pulling him upright.
She was right. Ace was dead, but Luffy was alive. He was alive and breathing and eating and living. And he was writhing in the same pain as Sabo.
“Where’s the newspaper?”
“What?”
“I need to see what happened. I need to know what Luffy saw.”
If there was anything Morgans was good for, it was getting the scoop. And the death of his brother was the biggest scoop there was where Sabo was concerned.
The newspaper was the only window into the events of Ace’s death Sabo had. It was the only window Sabo had into his brothers’ lives for years. For the last time, he needed to use the inked pages to connect himself to his loved ones.
Koala hesitated before offering a hand to Sabo. His legs trembled as he stood up; he was practically using her as a crutch. He hobbled along, trying to hold back the tears that continued to waterfall down his face. The war room had a few stragglers. Some of the commanders were milling about, performing their respective duties. All eyes fell on Sabo. His tear-stained face stared back. A few newspapers were scattered on tables. It seemed like this was where the papers were distributed to other members as usual.
The newspaper was two days old. Morgans wasted no time in announcing the death of his brother. On the front page, in big bold letters, read “THE DEATH OF GOL D. ACE,” accompanied by a picture that featured both Ace and Luffy. Ace laid on the ground, blood and gore covered his back where his Whitebeard tattoo used to reside. His second family. There was a smile on Ace’s face as he lay in Luffy’s lap motionless. Dead. Sabo imagined he was cold. Even without the flame-flame fruit, Ace was always warm. He radiated warmth. Luffy and Sabo would huddle against Ace on the cold nights in their tree house. Luffy’s face was inconsolable. Mouth wide open, and empty eyes. He was wailing. Unable to do anything as Ace laid in his lap, cold and lifeless.
Sabo was furious and miserable, and hopeless. The momentary strength in his legs inevitably failed him, and he fell to the floor. The newspaper was still in his hands. Blotches of wet appeared on the paper as Sabo’s vision blurred. He hiccupped, and his fingers crumpled the edges of the paper. He wanted to kill Akainu. He wanted to hug Luffy. Sabo punched the floor. Once. Twice. Thrice. Bruises would form on his knuckles the next day, and the pain in his heart would be a thousand times worse. The pain in Luffy’s might be even worse.
Newspaper ink bled onto Sabo’s hands. He could feel the stares on him, but Sabo kept sobbing and wailing and tearing at the paper and grabbing at his scar. His brother was dead, dead, dead. And they kept calling him Gol D. Ace, and that wasn’t his name. Sabo knew that, Luffy knew that, and anyone who cared knew that. They didn’t care. They killed him and they didn’t even care why.
Sabo went missing first. The missing first ten years were his fault. He should never have left so suddenly; he should never have let his parents have that control over him. He was ten years old and reckless. And now, the moment Sabo recovered the memories that molded him and had the chance to see his brothers again, Ace was torn away from a life he deserved to live. It wouldn’t happen again. Sabo couldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t let Luffy die. It didn’t matter what he had to do, Sabo was prepared to do anything to stop this from happening again. The first step was to get to Luffy. Give his baby brother a hug, relief from the nightmare they were surviving. And he wanted revenge. He wanted to bash the heads of those who doomed Ace to death. He wanted to kill them.
But first, Sabo would cry. He was going to cry, and cry, and cry. Hit a few things, cry some more. Because Ace was dead and there was nothing Sabo could change about that.