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“-so why did you bring him here?”
Ace crept closer. As long as Whitebeard was distracted he had a chance to finally kill him. And he was, because he seemed quite engrossed in a conversation between him, that damn Phoenix and some guys crowed around one man with an unconscious second in his arms.
“He was the centre of some trouble at Sunset Island with the Marines. The whitecoats were really unhappy, so we decided to help him get out when he got into a bit more trouble than he had been counting on. He is quite rude, but also very strong. Kind of like Fire Fist. So we thought you might like him, Pops.”
Huh, so they have kidnapped someone else, he realized absently. Figures.
Ace was starting to understand how the old man got such a big crew. The only thing he didn’t get was why people stayed if that was how they were recruited. One good riot, or even just enough people in the right position so no one would ring the alarm when they stole a ship – it should be easy to get away if they worked together.
But no. So far everyone on board seemed happy to be there.
Ace didn’t get it.
Maybe they were just too weak-willed to keep fighting. Ace certainly wasn’t going to fall into that trap. He would make Whitebeard regret kidnapping him and taking his crew away. Deuce was loyal, and so far Ace hadn’t heard anything about him and the others getting kidnapped as well, so hopefully his First Mate had done the smart thing and kept a hold of the Spadille while Ace was busy.
“Won’t that be trouble?”
Ace only paid attention to the voice of one of the First Division members insofar as to determine whether the guy would get in the way. Whitebeard and the Phoenix were more important to keep an eye on. But he would get them this time, the annoying bastards.
“Nah, locals say he had been around for a few weeks and didn’t have anything special in his past. Used to be part of a pirate crew according to rumours. You know the bartenders here, they are good at dragging sob stories out of people, so it’s probably all true. Wouldn’t be anything strange around here anyway. Damn rookies are getting more and more reckless-”
The Whitebeards laughed. Ace attacked.
Seconds later he was sailing through the air again. He hated that this kept happening.
At least this time seemed to have achieved more than just group of people laughing at him. There was a lot of angry yelling when the shark fishman dragged him back aboard.
Huh. Seemed like the new guy had woken up. And wasn’t happy.
Ace stared somewhat befuddled as the new guy’s reaction earned the other guy a swim too.
Seemed like he had some competition for Whitebeard’s head.
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His first real meeting with the new guy came a few days later. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was good at finding good hiding spots.
Ace scowled. This was one of his favourites. It was in an area of the ship most Whitebeards seemed to have forgotten about, so the risk of discovery was astronomically low.
But now it had been discovered by someone else.
“What?” the other snapped in reply of his scowl. “I was here first. If you don’t like it, leave.”
Ace could feel his scowl deepen but shut the door behind him. Not as loudly as he wanted, he didn’t want to draw attention, but with the sharp little snap that Makino had taught him was more polite than just slamming the door and almost as expressive. The storage room was small and badly lit, with only a single narrow porthole to provide any kind of natural light. The walls were covered with tightly packed shelves full of nails and other goods used for repairs, all closed off with little sliding doors so stuff didn’t go flying during a storm. There was a huge pile of tightly folded sailcloth at the back that made a very serviceable bed if you weren’t a whiny weakling too used to a real mattress. It was now occupied.
The relative darkness didn’t seem to bother his company. The other guy just aimed his glare back to whatever he was fiddling with in his lap. Ace couldn’t begin to guess what it was. All he noticed was that it was vaguely cubic, but that was about it.
Ace dropped down onto the free space on the pile of cloth and studied the other captive. The cravat and the blue jacket were very recognizable, but he hadn’t bothered to take a closer look before.
The other was blond with wavy hair and a nasty burn scars on his face. Old, Ace guessed based on the colour. Mottled and ugly, but without the redness of newer burns. The eye underneath didn’t track quite right but it seemed to be functioning. Probably wasn’t in contact with the fire for long then, if it caused that kind of burn but stayed so superficial that only the eyelid was affected and not the eye itself.
As a being of fire, Ace had gotten quite an education in burns and all the ways his flames could cause damage. Deuce had helped him gather information to help him minimize the risk his fire posed for his own crew.
Throwing sparks at people’s faces to confuse them had been one of the first things Deuce had told him very firmly to never do. The eye pictures had been gross, but had been effective in convincing him why he shouldn’t throw fire in someone’s eyes unless he really wanted them dead or permanently blind.
This guy must’ve been pretty lucky, he mused.
Then his eyes fell unto the other’s hat and his heart skipped several beats. When it restarted it stuttered like a tongue-tied drunk.
Thing was, he had seen the similarity before, the few times he had caught a glimpse of the other. The blond hair, the way the other dressed, the shape of his eyes – all of it made him think ‘Sabo’.
Each time he had felt himself get stuck on the similarities he had snapped his attention away as if the sight of this guy would burn his eyes and told himself it was ridiculous. Sabo was dead.
But this hat – this top hat with goggles on the rim that were far too familiar – that was the last straw.
Under layers of denials and scepticism a tiny spark of hope stubbornly flared to life.
“Hey,” he said, his own voice strange in his ears. The other looked at him sharply. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Sabo,” the other said succinctly. “I don’t need to ask yours. You have made quite a spectacle of yourself in the newspapers the past few months.”
Ace didn’t hear him. Something in him had snapped upon hearing that name.
His fights, his crew, the Whitebeard Pirates’ attitude- and now this.
It was all too much.
“Um…” The other looked discomfited now. So much like the boy Ace once knew, the few times Ace had dared let his tears show. Hesitant and with a clumsy desire to make things better, but no idea where to start. “Are you alright?”
Ace let his shoulders rise and fall. Shook his head.
“Oh.” The other shifted, and then carefully sat a little closer, as if afraid to offer comfort but not wanting to deny it either. “It’s just… usually people don’t start crying when they talk about names.”
Ace gasped in a breath. Felt his tears come up quicker now.
“You asshole,” he managed to choke out wetly. “If you didn't want to know us anymore you could have just said instead of pretending to be dead.”
“… I don’t know what you mean?”
Ace scoffed, trying to control his breathing. He rubbed at his eyes but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. This was almost as bad as that damn letter. Only worse.
“Don’t play dumb, ‘Bo. I thought you wanted to be our brother, but obviously I was wrong.”
Sabo – it had to be Sabo, there was no way he wasn’t even though the way he acted carved Ace open easy as Whitebeard’s bisento swung at full force – shuffled closer. “I- brothers?”
Ace's temper flared as if pure oxygen had been poured on. “Yes, brothers!” he roared. “You know, me ’n Luffy? We thought you died! Everyone thought you died! We all cried! But apparently you just fucked off instead and didn’t even try to keep in contact! Bastard!”
“Ah- I-“
Ace furiously shook his head. His entire being hurt. He just- he just couldn’t deal with this. Not on top of everything else. “You know what ‘Bo? To hell with you. I thought we were friends. I thought we were brothers. But obviously that means jack shit to you now.” For a moment his fingers twitched into the direction of his tattoo. He pushed himself off the ground instead, launching himself at the door.
“I hope you had a good fucking laugh,” he hissed in the doorway, before fleeing to a different bolthole. The door slammed behind him.
He prayed he wouldn’t run into anyone. He didn't want anyone to see, least of all a Whitebeard Pirate. He just wanted to lick his wounds in peace.
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Sabo sunk back down, outstretched arm slowly dropping back to his side. He paid no heed to his little project to create his own snail habitat for his future stolen den den mushi when it slid off his lap and clattered onto the floor. His head hurt like a demonic stampede was holding a dance festival on his brain. It was sheer agony, but still not as much as his heart. There was something about Fire Fist’s words that made him feel as if someone was digging his heart out with a rusty needle and spitting on the mangled remains.
He wanted to close his eyes and rest till the image of that crossed-out S Fire Fist deliberately hadn’t reached for faded from the back of his eyeballs, but his entire being keened at the thought of leaving Fire Fist to keep thinking the worst of him.
Brothers…
For some reason, that didn't sound nearly as ludicrous as it should. Instead the information slotted neatly alongside everything else he had managed to discover about his life before he was ten, like a piece of a puzzle clicking in place. His name was Sabo, he wore a hat with goggles on the rim, he never ever wanted to go back to his parents, and he had brothers.
… One of which was upset with him now.
Staggering upright, he employed his haki. It wasn’t something you could do all the time, as that was unhealthy levels of hyper vigilance even for a revolutionary and took quite a bit of concentration, but in this case the use was more than warranted.
He had a brother to find.
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Ace tensed as the door of the supplies closet opened. Tensed further as it closed again and Sabo let himself gracelessly fall down on the bare wood beside him, back thumping against the same crate Ace was curled up against. With the two of them the closet was small enough to start to feel claustrophobic. But Ace couldn’t focus on anything but the supposedly dead brother beside him.
For a moment he hoped that Sabo coming after him meant something-
“I don’t know about the brothers thing,” Sabo admitted candidly, ignorant of his brother’s inner turmoil. It was a death-blow to Ace's heart. His gaze dropped to the ground, were dark spots marked the remains of the tears he had already shed. More pitter-pattered quietly down unto the worn wood.
“But then,” Sabo continued as he stared sightlessly at the ceiling, “there’s a lot I don’t know about my past.”
Ace scoffed and turned away. He wiped at his face again. He hated that his hands still came back wet.
“Did you know,” Sabo said conversationally, as if he hadn’t made a sound, “that head injuries can cause memory loss?”
Ace's head snapped around so fast he was sure that if he didn't automatically turn to fire when he was about to get injured, he would have pulled something very painfully.
Sabo nodded to himself, head wobbling a little on his neck. He did not meet Ace's demanding gaze. “Yeah. I don’t know why you think I should be dead. Though given the first memories I can remember, I can guess, I think. But I don’t know. Not really. I know I had an accident. I know it was bad. I don’t know much details but I got these-“ a finger trailed over the scar on his face. Ace tracked it’s path with near obsessive focus “-at the price of my memories.”
“I’m sorry,” Sabo added. “I didn't mean to upset you.”
He was slurring the last words, but Ace hardly noticed. Because that was- that was-
“Hey,” Sabo mumbled weakly, sinking slowly down further onto the floor. “Tell me about you ‘n Luffy?”
Ace sniffed and nodded. Nodded again and barked out a wet laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. But you better not forget again, you hear?”
When there didn’t come a reply, he looked beside him.
Sabo’s eyes were closed.
“…”
With disbelief, he realized his amnesiac asshole of a brother had passed out.
“Are you shitting me?!” he yelled.
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Thatch was… concerned. Yes, ‘concerned’ was a good word. Far better than ‘alarmed’ or, oceans forbid, ‘frightened’.
He took in the tableau. It did not become magically better with a second look. Some things just didn’t, and a guy lugging a limp body around was one of them.
Fire Fist stood frozen as a startled deer with their newest would-be recruit slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Thatch had so many questions. Did Fire Fist knock blondie out? Kill him? Got it in his wild, feral little head to eat his competition since he obviously wasn’t eating enough? Was this like the story of the infectious undead monsters that collected others to infect and turn to their cause? Or, even worse, was this a sign of strange and obscure mating habits of feral would-be-murderers of certain age and rebellious inclination? Would they soon be overrun by an unexplainable horde of murderous offspring?
Thatch didn’t know, but with each new and increasingly wild idea that his treacherous brain came up with, he was less eager to fix that lack of knowledge.
Fire Fist slowly took a step back. Top Hat’s arm swayed with the motion.
“I’ll just… leave you to that… yeah?” Thatch said, hands up and retreating just as warily as Fire Fist was watching him.
There was an unidentifiable sound from Top Hat. It might have been a growl, might have been a snore.
Thatch swiftly decided he and his nerves weren’t made for this. He turned and ran.
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Sabo woke to softness and shadows dark as ink. He groaned and turned over.
Halfway in his roll, he hit something warm.
Before he could fully wake up and figure out what that meant, he heard a cry and then was suddenly enveloped in what his instincts took a moment to figure out was a hug. “You’re awake!”
Feeling still entirely muddled from sleep and with a dull ache pulsing behind his eyebrows, he could only blink and mutter a garbled “What?”
Just as swiftly he was released and punched in the shoulder. Not very hard, so he only yelped and did not retaliate. It was surprisingly reminiscent of Koala when he accidentally fell asleep during stakeout. “You asshole!” the other person shouted. “You scared the shit outta me!”
“I’m very sorry,” Sabo mumbled. Vaguely, he could make out features in the inky blackness that surrounded them. Absently, he patted around himself, trying to place where the heck he was. Some of those pats revealed a muscled thigh and an equally muscled arm very close to him, and underneath him what felt like a very thick pile of folded linen. Maybe a pile of bedsheets? he mused groggily. Must be some seriously large bedsheets…
A light flared sudden and bright as if someone struck a match. Sabo hissed and covered his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You cry-baby. At least you look better than before.”
Sabo blinked the spots out of his eyes and suddenly felt as if someone had stolen the breath right out of his chest. “Ace?”
Ace blinked. Startled, and with something that looked painfully wary. “Yeah?”
Sabo felt a sob build in his throat. Tears spilled unbidden over his cheeks. He lunged forward, heedless of the tiny candle flame that danced at the tip of Ace's finger. “Ace!” he cried out as he buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, holding on to his brother like his life depended on it. The little flame was snuffed out with a startled yelp. Darkness fell again, but now Sabo knew who he was sharing the shadows with.
“What the-?! Sabo, what the hell?” Hesitant hands came up to return his hold. “What’s going on, Sabo?”
Sabo choked on a laugh, hugging his brother – his brother, oh seas and skies, he had brothers – as tightly as he could. Ace wheezed a little. “What’s going on is that I remember! Ace, I remember!” He laughed again, deliriously happy. He remembered and he had his brother! After a decade of empty blankness where memories should be, he finally got back what he had lost! And he had found Ace to go with it!
“W-what? You- Are you serious?”
“Yes!” Sabo sniffed. “I remember you and Luffy and the stupid bandits and Makino-“
He was cut off when Ace's arms tightened like vices around him. They squeezed the air right out of him. Sabo laughed through his breathlessness, feeling lightheaded with giddiness and lack of air. “You triggered them,” he wheezed into Ace's ear. “You gave them back to me.”
“Sabo-“
“I’m so happy,” Sabo sighed blissfully.
Ace shuddered with that, trembling just a little as he loosened his hold enough for Sabo’s lungs to be able to expand again. “Sabo!”
It was a wail, and Sabo laughed and cried right along with his brother, holding him tight and close out of fear that if he let go Ace and all his new-old memories would slip away again.
He was never ever letting that happen again.
So he tangled his body with his brother’s, fingers slipping through what he knew where thick, wavy, night-black strands, and pressed his brother so close he could feel Ace’s heartbeat against his own chest.
Right in this moment, he felt so jubilant and elated he didn’t care who might hear them as he laughed and laughed and laughed. Nothing was enough to express the sheer joy he felt upon having his brother in his arms.
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Countless moments later, Ace finally loosened his hold a bit. Unashamed, Sabo kept clinging to him.
Ace huffed a laugh, still wet and cracked but wholly affectionate. “Come on, aren’t you hungry?”
Sabo shrugged, but his stomach gave a snarl that answered for him.
Ace laughed again. Sabo elbowed him in his side. “Shut up,” he grumbled without any heat, feeling a little embarrassed for his tears. But not ashamed enough to have any hesitation about grabbing his brother’s hand and holding on to it like a particularly clingy five year old. His heart, that had thumped like a frightened rabbit the moment he lost skin contact with Ace, settled again.
Ace’s grip was warm and strong and held the same flavour of desperation. With no desire to light his hands on fire, flames had instead flared up in his hair. Tiny but giving just enough light to change true darkness to heavy shadows. It was enough to see by since their eyes had already adjusted to the deeper dark.
Huh. His guess had been right. They were in an oversized linen closet. This had to be where the stuff of Whitebeard and the bigger Commanders was kept.
It was pretty comfy.
“Come on,” Ace said, with a lightness that belied his own look in his eyes. He tugged at their clasped hands. “I’ll show you all the best places to raid for food.”
“Alright,” Sabo agreed as he pulled himself up. “And after that, we’ll get the hell away from here.”
Ace cocked his head. “You have a plan?”
Sabo grinned. “Get me a den den mushi and I’ll make the Whitebeards regret kidnapping us. I’m sure my boss won’t mind you hanging out with us for a while.”
Ace grinned back, wide and warm as the fire that was now part of him, and wasn’t that a trip and a half, to see flames treaded through his hair like feather decorations? Sabo had so much catching up to do. “I like the sound of that!”
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Three days later, a giant fireball blew a massive, debilitating hole in the side of the Moby Dick.
The majestic ship groaned like it’s living equivalent, tortured and pained. There were screams and yells of alarm.
The fireball itself petered out but the flames, now alive and set free, eagerly feasted on old wood and tar, eating further into the ship’s sides and spreading through the labyrinth of hallways and corridors that shaped the ship’s interior. Many a room was already in the process of being invaded, and more were falling prey with each passing second.
Out of the hole, a gleefully cackling figure jumped with a flourish that turned into a neat dive. With a small splash he disappeared underwater, blue fabrics immediately darkening and blending in with the waves.
Seconds later he popped up again, hat still securely tied onto his head with the string they had pilfered. A greenish face rose with him, framed by fins and pale blue hair. The fishman wore a look of tired exasperation.
“It’s okay, Ace! You can jump!” Sabo called up gleefully, one hand cupped around his mouth to make himself heard over the roar of the flames.
Some of the flames that had been hungrily spreading through the exposed hallway melted into human form, yellow and black coalescing into solidness out of dancing orange. The last to lose the fire’s glow were his freckles, momentarily standing out like sparks across his face.
With an absentminded finger-pistol shot of fire over his shoulder to set even more of the blasted Moby Dick aflame, the older brother gave the blond idiot in the water a look of extreme annoyance. He took a moment to glare at the water. Then he sighed and jumped in feet first.
Ace too, landed with a splash, but far less graceful than Sabo. He didn’t come back up.
Unperturbed, Sabo dived after his useless anchor of a brother and caught him before he could sink too far. With Ace securely in his arms he returned to the surface. After years of Hack’s tutelage, the extra weight hardly bothered him.
Ace spluttered as they came up, spitting out the little seawater that had entered his mouth when the muscles of his jaw lost their strength. He was entirely limp and helpless in Sabo’s arms. Sabo suppressed a thrill of delight at the blatant display of trust.
“I hate this plan,” Ace grumbled, sounding rather like Sabo imagined a wet cat would if it could talk. Like an utter grump.
“Don’t worry, Hack brought the bubbly coral. Didn’t you, Hack?”
“Of course I did,” the fishman said calmly. At Sabo’s ‘gimme’ gesture he obligingly handed a piece over. “Koala is already waiting with our ship. Once aboard, we catch up with the Spades crew in no time. From there I assume we will leave Whitebeard’s territory post-haste?”
“Seems the most sensible to me,” Sabo agreed as he set one end of the coral to his lips. “No sense lingering where they can drag us back. Red Hair’s territory should be safe enough, and from there we have free access to one of the less famous crossing points of the Red Line.”
In no time, Ace was safely encapsulated in a bubble, only his legs and arms sticking out. Hack did the same for Sabo, and then promptly dived, dragging the two brothers behind him by their hands.
Ace was still pretty immobile, but at least he wasn’t quite as tired anymore. Sabo was smiling happily as they shot away underwater.
“Think they noticed us leaving?” Sabo asked cheerily.
“If they didn’t notice they deserve to sink,” Ace said dryly. Underneath the aggravation at all that water he looked just as happy with their impressive exit and their follow-up plan.
“You were far from subtle,” Hack agreed.
“Yeah, I know, but I mean, notice us making our escape, instead of, y’know, just Ace burning the ship down,” Sabo clarified.
Hack looked up. “Seems like they did.”
Ace and Sabo looked up too. A glowing blue outline was keeping pace with them on the other side of the waves.
“Huh. And I think that’s that fishman Commander behind us,” Sabo added with a grin.
The three of them shared a look. Ace with raised eyebrows and a trusting smile at Sabo’s conspiring smirk, Hack with long-suffering attentiveness that screamed how often he had been exposed to Sabo’s brand of unrepentant crazy. Sabo wasn’t quite rubbing his hands like a comic villain, but it was close. He very nearly let himself cackle.
“Launch me out of the water and neither will be a problem for long,” Sabo promised.
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Marco was chasing their troublemakers in phoenix form with a fury he didn’t often feel. But this time the brats had gone too damn far. They’d be lucky if the Moby would be seaworthy enough to make it to the next harbour, and still adjusting or not, he was going to teach his youngest brothers a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. They had indulged their spoiled tantrums for more than long enough-
In the blink of an eye one of the presences he had been following suddenly veered wildly off course with impressive speed.
Right into his flight path.
With an aggravated phoenix screech he twisted his wings to dodge, but the moment the blond broke the surface with a splash and a pop that reminded him of a popping bubble, the younger man twisted too. Haki-coated fingers closed around azure primaries and the underlying bony wingtip like a vice.
This time, Marco’s screech held decidedly more panic when the blond’s weight dragged him out of balance and down.
The waves were suddenly far too near. Even the frantic beating of his wings didn’t slow down his descent. Not with the blond hanging onto one of them, hindering him.
Water closed over his head and his lungs seized. Helpless, he looked right into the wicked grin of the young man still having a crushing hold on him. Feathers had reverted to fingers, and they ached as if the blond had broken them with his grip.
The blond’s lips shaped into two simple syllables.
Bye-bye
He grinned meanly and mockingly twiddled the fingers of his free hand.
Then he let go.
Heart in his throat, Marco felt himself start to sink. It had been a long time since he felt terror like this, and the experience left him reeling.
Without a hint of hesitation, as if he already had dismissed Marco’s plight from his mind, the blond smoothly turned away from him, swimming with surprising speed and grace towards the fishman who was waiting for him a little further out. A very menacingly grinning Fire Fist was floating in a bubble at his side. His wave was floppy and weak from seawater exposure, but he too didn’t seem a bit concerned about his older brother drowning right in front of him.
A little puff on a piece of bubble coral, and the blond was encased too. Then they were off. They didn’t spare a single look backwards.
Just before he lost consciousness from lack of air, Namur’s face materialized out of the gloom with high speed and an expression of abject panic.
Marco had never been so happy to see a brother.
Seawater burned in his lungs, but at least he knew he could trust this brother not to let him drown.
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Hours later, the Commanders convened with their Captain in one of the few navigator offices that had survived unscathed.
“Well, this is a mess and a half,” Jozu grumbled tiredly as the went over the extensive damage reports.
Marco was seated next to him, shamefaced and still dripping a little, exhausted by the prolonged trip back through the water. Wet wings in combination with seawater exhaustion and near-drowning had left him incapable of flying back on his own strength. Upon Jozu’s words, he flinched.
Jozu nudged him. “Not your fault, birdy,” the large Commander added good-naturedly. “We’ll fix the Moby and get the brats back. They can’t have gone far.”
Marco suppressed a second flinch. After having been left for death, he wasn’t sure anymore. What kind of brother left a sibling to die? The two had always yelled and acted angry, but Marco hadn’t expected that level of callous disregard. Part of him was frightened of the two returning aboard.
Namur deliberately didn’t say anything. They all knew how fast a fishman could swim, and there was a limit how well Namur could track a trail once a few hours had passed. They only had the vaguest indication of the direction the three had been fleeing in, and no guarantee they hadn’t veered off once they lost their pursuers.
“Uh, I think that’s a bit more complicated…”
They all turned to face a soot-stained, tired and miserable Thatch, who had stumbled in last after finishing making an inventory of the food stores that had survived. He held up a note. “Found it nailed to the wall of my storage room,” he said gloomily.
It turned out to be a surprisingly neat note.
To Captain Whitebeard:
Next time you try to force us into servitude like a goddamn slaver, we will blow your entire damn ship all the way to Skypiea. Consider this your one and only warning.
We don’t care if you call your chains ‘shackles’ or ‘family’, or your mark a ‘slave brand’ or a ‘jolly roger’. You are no better than the Celestial Dragons. You tried to force us into your service and we will never forgive that.
Here the note suddenly switched to more messy handwriting: If one of you ever comes near me or mine again I’m gonna burn your whole fucking ship down! It trailed off in a series of increasingly sloppy swear words and additional threats that conveyed the writer’s anger and irritation rather well despite being nearly ineligible.
Then, neat again, as if the first writer had snatched the paper away from the second: Don’t think we will keep quiet about what you did. We bet we can get a lot of similar stories from your ‘allies’ too. Your reputation is in dire need of an update, old man. But don’t worry, we’ll make sure to give an accurate one.
You claim to be good and honourable. Your actions bely that. Either quit lying about what you do or quit doing things that make a liar out of you.
In the meantime, we’ll make sure that people after us will be forewarned about your methods.
We hope you liked our goodbye present >:D
A. & S.
All the Commanders shared a look.
“… Oh dear,” Izou said, summing up what they were all thinking.
“Was it- Were we really that bad?” Thatch choked out, tears gleaming in his eyes. “Surely we weren’t that bad right?”
None of them dared give an answer to that, too busy reflection on the past months with rising dread.
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Miles and miles away, Sabo laughed at all the ugly crying faces of Ace's crew as they ecstatically greeted their Captain. There was a lot of hugging and dogpiling going on. He cooed at the large cat that had warily come to greet him. It closed its eyes in bliss at Sabo’s firm scratches around its jowls. “Your Captain is so silly, isn’t he? Yes he is.”
The cat purred like a broken engine. Sabo chuckled at the vibrations.
Koala sniggered and wacked him over the head. “Like you’re one to talk, numbskull.”
“Hey now, I resent that accusation.”
“Resent all you like, I’m not the one who got himself kidnapped.”
From her side, Hack nodded emphatically.
Sabo laughed again and hugged the large feline. “I’m not sorry,” he said firmly, eyes trained on his brother’s protesting form as he was dragged off into the belly of his ship by his doctor for a check-up. None of his crew helped him escape, instead cheering the doctor on. Ace yelled something about mutiny.
Sabo smiled into the big cat’s fur. Ace was such an idiot.
“You never are,” Koala said with fondness in her voice and understanding in her eyes. “I guess we’ll forgive you just this once.”