#ace death

——

The island was supposed to be quiet—just another checkpoint. You were out past curfew, your boots light on the sand, the stars above your only company.

Until he spoke.

“You shouldn’t be walking around here in that uniform, you know. Might give someone ideas.”

You froze, hand hovering over your sword. But the voice wasn’t threatening—just amused.

From the shadows, a man stepped forward. Black tattoo on his back. Orange hat. The moment your eyes met his golden ones, something in your chest shifted.

“Portgas D. Ace,” you said carefully.

He tilted his head. “And you are… a Vice Admiral’s brat?”

You stiffened. “Admiral. I’m his daughter.”

He let out a low whistle. “Didn’t expect Sakazuki to have a kid. You don’t have his scowl.”

Your lips twitched, despite yourself. “I get that a lot.”

He smiled then, soft and crooked. “So what’s a good little Marine doing walking alone?”

“I could ask you the same. You’re a wanted man.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, “you haven’t drawn your blade.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. For some reason, looking at him didn’t feel like facing an enemy.

“I’m not here to fight.”

He looked up at the stars. “Good. Neither am I.”

That night stretched longer than you expected—two hours of talking by the water’s edge. About justice. About pirates. About fathers.

“You trying to make yours proud?” he asked, picking up a shell and tossing it into the waves.

“…Yes.”

He turned to you, serious now. “You know that’s not living, right?”

Your voice faltered. “Then what is?”

He chuckled softly, plucking up another shell. “Living is… waking up and knowing the choices you’re making are your own. Not someone else’s. Not your father’s.”

You stared down at the water. “It’s not that simple. I was raised to believe in justice. That pirates were evil. That anything less than total obedience is weakness.”

Ace didn’t laugh this time. He just nodded. “Sounds lonely.”

You blinked at him. “It is.”

“Then why keep doing it?”

You sighed, fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Because it’s all I’ve ever known. Because I thought if I could just be strong enough, obedient enough, perfect enough—maybe he’d actually look at me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just another soldier in his fleet.”

Ace was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “You matter without any of that. You shouldn’t have to bleed yourself dry just to earn scraps of love.”

The words hit too hard, too fast. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re free. You get to be who you are. You’re not being crushed under your last name.”

He tilted his head. “You think freedom means not being weighed down? I’ve spent most of my life wondering if I even deserve to exist. Carrying my father’s name like a curse I never asked for.”

You looked at him, startled. “Your father?”

Ace looked away, a shadow in his gaze. “Gol D. Roger. The Pirate King.”

You swallowed. “But that means—”

“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone thinks I should be something—good or evil, depends who you ask. But none of them care what I want. They only see what I was born from.”

You stared at him, quiet now.

Ace sat down in the sand, arms resting on his knees. “So yeah. I know a little about trying to run from your blood. Or trying to live up to something impossible. But trust me… it never works. Either way, you lose yourself.”

You sat beside him slowly, the sea breeze brushing your face. “Then what do I do?”

He turned to you gently. “Start small. What do you want? Not as a Marine. Not as Sakazuki’s daughter. Just… you.”

You hesitated, breath catching in your throat. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he said quietly. “Knowing you don’t know—that’s a hell of a start.”

You looked at him then, really looked. At the man who was supposed to be your enemy. Who was offering you more kindness in an hour than your father had in years.

“Why are you telling me all this?” you asked.

He gave a crooked smile. “Because you looked like someone who needed to hear it. And maybe… because I wish someone had said it to me when I was younger.”

You didn’t respond. You just sat there with him, watching the waves roll in.

The wind stirred your hair, the ocean licking at your boots.

“I want to see you again,” you whispered, surprising even yourself.

Ace blinked—then nodded. “Then we will. One day.”

That night, there was a pull between the two of you—something magnetic, impossible to ignore. Without a word, Ace closed the space between you, his hand finding yours, warm and calloused, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You didn’t pull away.

He kissed you then, a soft press of lips that deepened slowly as the tension between you both flared into something more. There was no rush—only the pressing need to feel alive, to be seen, to be wanted. You kissed him back, hands gently threading into his dark hair, your heart racing in a way that felt both terrifying and freeing.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, the stars above you like silent witnesses to something new and raw. Ace’s eyes were dark, but his smile was soft.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek, a promise in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, letting his words sink in.

There, under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, you found something unexpected. You weren’t sure where it would lead, or if it would survive the world that lay ahead. But for that moment, it was enough.

“I’ll see you again,” you whispered, a promise between the two of you.

He nodded, the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes. “One day.”

——

Marineford roared like a monster of steel and flame. Cannons fired. Blood painted the sea red. Above it all stood your father, barking orders with magma on his fists.

You stood with the other officers, heart numb, until your eyes found him—Ace, shackled on the execution platform, chest heaving.

You couldn’t breathe.

You hadn’t meant to fall for him. But those nights thinking about his laugh, the way he listened—like you were more than your name…

He found you too. His gaze locked with yours, even from the distance. You couldn’t tell what emotion flickered behind his eyes. Recognition? Regret?

Was this the future he’d imagined for your reunion?

——

“You seem distracted.”

Your father’s voice cut through the storm like a knife.

You stiffened. “Just focused.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t lose yourself. This war is for justice. For order.”

You nodded, throat tight. He’d never ask if you were afraid. He’d only care that you stood tall.

But inside, you were already breaking.

“Father…” you tried, voice trembling. “What if there’s more to this than justice? What if—”

“SILENCE.”

His voice boomed like thunder. “There is no ‘what if.’ There is justice. There is crime. And there is fire to purge it.”

You turned away before he could see the doubt in your eyes.

——

When Luffy burst through the chaos, a part of you hoped he’d fail. Another part—the part that remembered moonlight and laughter—begged him to win.

And he did.

The chains broke. Ace stood free.

You ran before you could think.

He was there, coughing, dazed. You called his name. He turned.

“…You came.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I couldn’t let you die.”

He smiled, pain flickering across his face. “You always were too good for them.”

You touched his arm. “We have to go.”

But fate doesn’t care about love.

——

Admiral Aikanu stepped into your path —raw, unrelenting, and burning with hate. His coat billowed like smoke in the wind, and steam hissed off his molten fists. You saw the rage in his eyes before he even spoke. It was the same rage you’d grown up under, now aimed straight at the man you loved.

“Portgas D. Ace,” your father snarled. “You dare escape judgment?”

Ace instinctively pushed you behind him. “Stay back,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Don’t let him touch you.”

But you stepped forward, shoulder brushing his. “I’m not hiding, Ace. Not from him. Not anymore.”

Akainu’s eyes burned into yours. “So. You’ve chosen your side.”

His voice cracked like fire through stone.

“I chose it long before today,” you said, lifting your chin. “You just never wanted to see it.”

“You would throw away justice for him?” His voice seethed, disgust curling in his lip.

“I’m not throwing anything away,” you said. “I’m claiming what’s mine. My life. My choice.”

Akainu’s fists ignited with fury. Lava spilled from his knuckles, hissing as it hit the ground. “Then you’re no daughter of mine.”

Something broke in your chest—but it wasn’t grief. It was the last thread of fear.

Ace’s voice cut through the tension. “She was never yours to shape into a weapon.”

Akainu turned his wrath back toward him. “You speak of freedom while hiding behind her skirts?”

And then he moved.

His magma-coated fist blazed through the air toward Ace. Time slowed.

And without thinking, without hesitation—

You stepped in front of him.

——

The pain was instant. A white-hot agony tore through your side as the lava smashed into you. You felt yourself being thrown back into Ace’s arms, the world tilting, fire blooming across your vision like a dying sun.

You were weightless and heavy at once.

“No!” Ace caught you, stumbling as he dropped to his knees. His hands trembled, cradling you like you were glass already cracking. “Y/N—no. No, no, no…”

Your blood was everywhere. On his arms, on your uniform, soaking into the dirt.

Your breathing came in ragged gasps, and yet—you smiled.

“Why…?” he choked out, eyes wild and wet. “Why would you do that?”

You reached up with shaking fingers to brush his cheek. “Because I love you.”

He held you tighter, pressing his forehead to yours. “You weren’t supposed to die for me. You were supposed to live. With me. You were supposed to live.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “I know… I wanted that too.”

“Then why—why—”

“Because this was my choice,” you said, voice thin but steady. “Not my father’s. Not the Marines’. Mine.”

He shook his head violently, tears spilling freely. “You idiot… you beautiful, stubborn idiot…”

You tried to smile again, even as the cold crept in. “This… this is freedom. I finally got to decide what I’d give my life for.”

Ace was sobbing now, arms wrapped around you like he could hold your soul in. “No. No, don’t go—please, Y/N…”

You leaned closer, eyes fluttering shut. “Live, Ace. Please. Not for him. Not for Whitebeard. For you.”

Your fingers slipped from his, and the last thing you saw was the sky—vast, open, free.

And Ace—broken, holding you like the world had ended.

Behind him, your father stood still. Staring. Silent. Like even fire had forgotten how to burn.

——

They say Ace fought like hell that day.

They say he screamed your name like a prayer turned curse, tearing through enemy lines with fire that scorched even the sea-slick stone beneath his feet. Magma met flame, and still, he stood. Burning. Bleeding. Unstoppable.

They say it took Luffy, broken and battered, to drag him back—his brother’s arms locked around his chest as he screamed and kicked and sobbed. They say Ace didn’t want to run. That he wanted to die there, next to you.

But Luffy wouldn’t let him.

Not after you had already made that choice.

After the war, Ace disappeared from the public eye. But everyone in Whitebeard’s crew knew where he went.

The first place he returned to was your grave.

Buried quietly, anonymously, far from Marine monuments or war heroes. Your marine pin sat at the headstone, cleaned and polished. And on it was carved only what Ace asked for:

“She died free.”

He stayed there for hours the first time. Maybe days. No one knows what he said. But when he came back, something in him had changed.

He still laughed. Still drank. Still threw his arm around Thatch and teased Marco and got into brawls with the crew. But the light in his eyes had shifted.

He lived like a man with a fire he couldn’t put out.

Every time the Moby Dick passed through a new island, he asked for any news of the Marine girl with the burning eyes and the fireproof heart. Every time he met someone who believed they were born into chains, he told your story.

Not to make them mourn you.

But to remind them what choice could look like.

“Don’t live trying to prove yourself to people who will never see you,” he’d say. “She taught me that.”

He never said your name out loud. Not often. It hurt too much. But your memory followed him like a shadow—like the steady heat of a fire that never died.

Sometimes, when he thought no one was watching, he’d take the small locket he wore under his shirt—a single photo of you, tucked behind a scrap of your old Marine uniform—and whisper,

“I’m still burning for you.”

And he was.

Not for Whitebeard. Not for revenge.

For you.

Because if someone like you—born into war, raised under fire—could choose love in the end…

Then he could choose life.

Just as he was.

And he would live every day the way you wanted him to: