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Sometimes later.
'War has ended and our allies have gone back and luffy is with Jimbei now, safe but exhausted, pops lost his hand because of me, Still this better than losing his life'
Ace thought while stood on the deck of the Moby Dick, the ship a frantic hive of activity around him. The triumphant roars of the pirates had been replaced by the desperate shouts of the medical staff and the low, pained groans of the wounded. Victory felt less like a celebration and more like the quiet, aching morning after a devastating storm.
His gaze was fixed on the makeshift infirmary where his father lay. Whitebeard, the mountain of a man who had held the world on his shoulders, was now a fragile giant, surrounded by his panicked children, his life hanging by a thread. The image of that cauterized stump where his arm should have been was a brand on Ace's soul.
"Ace."
A hand, wreathed in cool blue flames, came to rest on his shoulder. It was Marco. The First Commander looked exhausted, his face etched with lines of grief and worry, but his eyes were clear.
"You did it," Marco said, his voice a low, rough whisper. "You saved him. You saved all of us."
"I let this happen," Ace countered, his voice flat, his gaze never leaving his father. "He took that hit for me, Marco. For me and Luffy."
"He took that hit for his sons," Marco corrected, his grip tightening. "That was his choice. As a captain. As a father. Don't you dare tarnish his sacrifice by blaming yourself." He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of command. "He's stable, for now. But he won't be waking up anytime soon. The crew... they're looking for a leader."
Ace finally turned, his eyes meeting Marco's. He saw the unspoken question, the passing of a torch he never asked for.
Before he could respond, a news coo, braver than any Marine, landed on the ship's railing, a stack of freshly printed papers in its beak. A pirate snatched one, his eyes going wide as he read the headline.
"Commander Ace! Look at this!"
Ace took the paper. The front page was dominated by two images. One was a chaotic, full-bleed photo of him, his blue fire and Haki-infused kick shattering Akainu's magma fist. The other was a grainy, terrifying picture of Blackbeard, his face contorted in rage. But it was the headline that made his blood run cold.
SON OF ROGER REVEALED! Fire Fist Ace Unmasks "Davy D. Teach" and Wields yonko-Like Power!
Ace stared at the words "SON OF ROGER" next to his own face. He had known, logically, that Sengoku's revelation would make it to the papers. But seeing it in bold print, a global declaration of the one truth he had spent his entire life running from, felt like being branded with a hot iron.
"Well news really travel fast , damn morgans, that's just perfect," he said, his voice dripping with a sarcasm so sharp it could have cut steel. He crumpled the newspaper in his fist. "So much for a quiet life. Now every treasure hunter from here to Laugh Tale is going to think I've got a map tattooed on my back."
The gallows humor, so utterly Ace, broke the tension. A few of the nearby commanders let out choked snorts of laughter. Even Marco cracked a weary smile. It was a sign that despite the god-like power and the world-shaking revelations, their brother was still there.
Just then, a Den Den Mushi on a nearby crate began to ring. A crewmate answered it, his face paling. "It's... It's the Knight of the Sea, Jinbe!"
Ace snatched the receiver. "Jinbe! Is Luffy alright?!"
"Ace-san!" Jinbe's voice was filled with a frantic urgency. "He's alive! But he's... he's not good. Sometime after battle ended, he collapsed. He's completely unconscious, burning with a fever. The physical and mental strain... it was too much. He pushed himself far beyond his limits. He needs a real doctor, and fast!"
The news was a gut punch. He had been so focused on Pops that he had forgotten about the exhausted state his little brother was in. Two fathers. Two brothers. one dead. one broken. Both needed him.
Ace's mind, a fusion of a pirate's instincts and a modern man's logic, began to work. The New World was a warzone. The power vacuum left by his father's injury would have every predator, including Teach, circling. They couldn't go back there, not like this. They needed to disappear. They needed a sanctuary.
His eyes scanned the horizon, and a memory from his past life, a piece of forgotten lore, surfaced. A place where one of the warlord stay. A place in the Calm Belt, where the Marines would never look.
He turned to Marco, his expression no longer that of a grieving son, but of a commander making a hard choice. The time for sorrow was over. It was time to lead.
"Change of course," Ace commanded, his voice ringing out across the deck with an authority that no one questioned. "Turn the ships around. We're not heading for the New World."
Vista looked at him, confused. "But Commander, where are we going?"
Ace looked out at the open sea, his eyes burning with a new, cold fire.
"We're taking a detour. We're going to island of women."
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Don't Forget to Throw Some(All)
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