Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Everyone has a soulmark. A name on your wrist, your chest, your back, your arm, your foot. Just a name. Sometimes it was a one-word name, sometimes two-word, not often three or four-word. It was a simple fact.

 Everyone has them but they are always a bit different. Well, of course, the name is different for every person but there is this small detail that, depending on your luck, makes it all harder or easier to find your soulmate. It’s not their birth name, not their nickname, not the way you’ll call them in the future. The soulmark is the name or part of it that will make the biggest impact on the world.

 There is the possibility that you’ve already met them, they just haven’t become that one name you have on your body yet. You may die not knowing you’ve already met them because they will become someone else after your death.

 His mum had a Pirate King on her left breast. Not Gold Roger, not Gol D. Roger or just Roger. Pirate King. Kaizoku Ou. 海賊王.

For Ace, it meant he would never be recognized as just himself, as Portgas D. Ace. He will always be first and foremost Gol D. to the world.

 Sabo’s soulmark was normal.

 There was a simple name, in black, lean, a bit curly letters. Koala. The name was pretty, simple, short and melodic but unique enough that Sabo wouldn’t have to wonder is this person my soulmate or should I wait for someone else with the name? He had it under his left collarbone, above his heart as if it was waiting for him to find the love of his life that would take his heart away.

 Ace wasn’t a romantic type but he wished for a soulmark like Sabo’s. It would be reassuring, calming. He envied Sabo who, in a moment of distress could put his palm above his T-shirt, caress the small letters with his fingers through the fabric. Who could touch his soulmark absently while running. Who could unconsciously touch it in his sleep.

 Sabo who was dead before he could meet anyone.

コアラ

Koala.

 Ace remembered the name Koala, just to tell them Sabo loved them even if he had never met them.

 Luffy’s soulmark was a bit more complicated.

 Luffy himself hadn’t read it even once, wasn’t even aware he had one – it was on the small of his back, way out of his sight range. There were no mirrors in the jungle and no mirrors in their house tree and Sabo and Ace really preferred not to tell him, quite uncertain about the name. Puzzled, to say at least.

 Surgeon of Death wasn’t a normal title, normal name.

 Ace knew there were a lot of people with weird monikers on the Four Seas, he just hoped Luffy’s soulmate wouldn’t be as awful as his name sounded. Luffy was a good person but it didn’t mean he would meet only other good people. Even though everyone was in love with the concept of soulmates, Ace knew better – there were bad people and, since everyone has soulmark, they had soulmarks too. The soulmate thing wasn’t ideal.

死の外科 医

Shi no Gekai

Surgeon of Death.

 Luffy’s soulmark was medium sized, barely visible due to the place it was on and a bit strange. The handwriting wasn’t the best, smudgy, with too tall letters and reading the last kanji, the one used in the word Surgeon, was hard, especially for twelve-year-olds with practically no education. Ace wondered how many people never found their soulmates because they couldn’t read their own soulmark.

 Ace hated his soulmark. Or he tried to.

 It was much bigger than Luffy’s or Sabo’s or any other person’s, to be honest – Dadan’s, Makino’s and Gramp’s were small, like someone had written them in a notebook. Ace’s was huge in comparison. Three big kanjis, stretched out between the further edges of his shoulder blades. They were elegant, in traditional style and so fucking huge. Ace started wearing high-collared shirts being only eleven to conceal his soulmark. The name was fancy and unusual, he couldn’t really see it without a mirror or at least window glass but he was constantly aware of it.

不死鳥

 Fushichou.

 Phoenix. He didn't even know what it meant.

 Dadan didn't know either. So he asked Gramps. He took his shirt off, slumped his back, baring it, bending his neck in trust and dipping his chin in his chest. When Gramps didn’t say anything, Ace turned around.

 Garp’s face was frozen, solemn, his eyes partially squinted, lips tight, his crow's feet clear as a day. His hands fisted.

 Ace crossed his arms over his chest as if to protect himself and Garp fidgeted but the concern on his face didn’t disappear.

 “Ace,” he came on strong. “You should never search for them.”

He blinked. “What?”

“For your own safety, brat. Do it for your own safety.”

 Ace’s heart broke for the first time. He didn’t want to admit it but he had secretly hoped his soulmate would be one of the good people, a person who could accept him despite his demon blood, despite him killing his own mother, despite that Ace was a monster.

 Hope often blinks at a fool, he supposed.

 “Why?” he asked, not daring to look Garp in the eyes, scrutinizing the ground and his own bare feet.

 “They will kill you as soon as they find who was your father,” he answered only.

Gramps put a hand on his head, mussing Ace’s hair when he started silently crying.

 Ace found what phoenix meant, found out it was a mythical bird entirely made of flames that would reborn in fire and ashes no matter what. He never looked for an actual person, staying with the picture of a flaming bird in his head.

 The soulmate thing wasn’t always all fun and games and Ace forced himself to not care, not think about it, not bother with some person who was supposed to be his better half. He didn’t ask Gramps again.

 Romance was overrated anyway.

 The Fate made fun of him again when he ate Mera Mera no Mi, not knowing the ability it gave. Fire, just like Phoenix’s eternal flame the bird was supposed to reborn in.

 Ace wore shirts with high collars and sometimes even scarves and shawls. No one in the Spade crew knew his soulmark. He intended to keep it that way.

~~~

 Marco was, at first, absolutely excited with the concept of soulmates.  It went away with time. With understanding what the name meant, or rather who the name meant. It got too complex, too confusing, too disappointing.

 Pops told him, a long time ago, that soulmark doesn’t guarantee a happy ending. Marco was very much aware of it, especially when Gold Roger was being executed with another woman’s name on his chest and not Marco’s. Rouge, was written on him.

 Marco asked just once and Gol D. Roger answered honestly. Rouge, a woman from South Blue, had his name on her chest too.

 Marco didn’t understand. The soulmarks didn’t work that way. What was he supposed to do with bold, sloppy, messy letters of Gol D. taking a huge space above his hips, just above the waistline of his pants, always hidden by a blue sash? There were no recorded cases of unrequited soulmarks.

ゴール・D・

 Gol D.

 He hoped maybe Pirate King and Rouge would have a child soon. Maybe it would be his soulmate, with huge age difference and father in the rival to Marco’s own crew.

 And then Pirate King died without having a child, or if he had one, they were probably long gone, killed in the hunt Marines threw. Rouge was probably dead too.

 There was no hope for Marco, no miracle soulmate. At least he had his family, he had his Pops, with soulmate lost ages ago, just like Marco’s. He had a content life as a first mate and First Division Commander of Whitebeard Pirates.

 He watched his brothers and sisters finding and losing their soulmates. Jozu, who left woman whose name he had on his knee in the North Blue. Haruta, who met a Marine Lieutenant that matched the name on his neck and didn’t even talk with him. Thatch, who had a beautifully written Izou on his wrist, always hidden under a sleeve. Izou, who had a Twin-Blade on his nape, used to covered by his long hair. Nancy, Head Nurse, who lost her soulmate to a rouge pirate crew that invaded her home island before she even met Pops.

 His soulmate was either never his but Rouge’s or they were dead before they could even grow up and find him.

 Life was good.

~~~

 When Ace first saw a big, blue bird entirely made of fire, majestic, proud and firm on the left side of Whitebeard, he knew. He just knew. Phoenix. A fucking Phoenix. The same one whose name he had on his back as long as he could remember. The same one who would hate him, kill him as if only he found who Ace’s father was.

 He tried not to be disappointed. Somewhere deep down in his heart Ace had been still hoping. The hope was completely gone now.

 He made a wall of fire for his crew. He was gonna die at the hand of his soulmate’s captain, his soulmate’s Pops.

 Pops, that was rich. Fucking fathers and their fucking sons. The only real, honest family he had ever seen was his brothers.

 Ace’s life was a shitty joke, he decided. This whole fucking soulmate thing was a shitty joke.

 He woke up the next day, dejected. And then the day after that and the day after that day. Still unhappy. It continued for ninety-seven or ninety-eight days, he lost count. Every day, he tried to kill Whitebeard, each time with no results. The old man just laughed along with the rest of his crew and smacked Ace away with his gigantic hands as if Ace was an annoying fly and not a dangerous pirate they were keeping on the ship against his will.

 The thing was, he could feel himself giving in. Giving in to the idea of being a part of a family, of being someone’s son. The main problem holding him back was Ace’s heritage, his bastard of a father he had never met and, as a result, Phoenix, Marco. He could hide his past, he would hide his demon blood, not say anything and pretend there was no deep self-hatred in him but if anyone saw his soulmark, read the huge kanjis that fell into word Fushichou on his back, they would connect the dots and all of Ace’s cards would be on the table without his consent. He was sure they would kill him the moment his heritage was out.

 The Whitebeard crew was a bunch of weirdos. Very friendly weirdos that accepted him without hesitation, considered him a brother without blood connection and despite his attitude.

 He was getting too close to them, too involved. He had inner jokes with Haruta and Thatch, he knew which cooks from the Fourth Division were on duty just by the taste of the food, he spared with Jozu, Fossa’s Division repaired him Striker, shipwrights used Ace’s flame to forge delicate pieces of weaponry, cooks used him for taste-testing. He was beginning to wear his heart on his sleeve and it wasn’t going to end pretty. It never ended pretty for Ace.

 And Marco. Marco, who helped him contact Spade crew, part of it that wasn’t on the Moby Dick with him, who had been bringing him food at the beginning when Ace had no desire to even set foot in the galley. Marco, who had a dry sense of humor, who wasn’t afraid to tease him, who had this oddly calming, warm aura, who took care of everything and everyone on the ship, Ace included.

  Marco, who would hate him as soon as he learned Ace’s father’s name. Marco, who probably hated his soulmark because Ace knew it wasn’t Portgas or Fire Fist written on his body.

 The scary thing was, Ace noticed he was stopping to even pretend he didn’t like the crew. He knew all of Thatch’s bad puns, he could tell if Haruta set a prank just by the look on his face, he could notice Izou’s well-hidden annoyance, he could notice Jozu’s thoughtful gazes at the sea, his changes of mood.

 There were other soulmates pairs on the Moby Dick too. Izou and Thatch were rather subtle, if not for Izou’s tied up hair and Ace seeing Twin-Blade on his neck, he would never know. They didn’t act like people in love – Thatch was a flirt and Izou avoided the subject of soulmates. Their soulmarks was the only giveaway, he thought at first. Then he noticed the way they leaned into each other all the time, the way they spent all their free time together, the way Marco sometimes looked at them, with fond and sad eyes. Ace saw them, once, on the back of the ship, hugging in the sunset.

There was some guy from the Third Division that regularly sneaked up to the infirmaries. He had Jojou on his arm and one of the nurses had Albert on her palm. It was his name.

 Seeing that made Ace not hungry at all. One would say he was sulking, he would say he was planing next assassination attempt. Because he was planning next assassination attempt, a bit half-hearted but was.

 He tried to kill Whitebeard during dinner - it didn’t work. He was kicked out through the wall of the galley. He didn’t go back, remembering laughter of the crew, Whitebeard’s annoyed, resigned face and his soulmate’s disapproving gaze. Ace probably should stop referring to him as his soulmate but couldn’t really force himself.

 It was getting dark when a bowl of warm soup was placed near his feet. He was hugging his knees, hiding his gaze behind the shadow of his hat, making himself unreachable for the onlookers.

 Ha hated the way Whitebeard’s smile would come up in his thought, how Thatch’s laughter was heard in his ears even in the silence, how there was word Pops on the tip of his tongue all the time. It was not supposed to be like that. Ace wished they had just killed him like ruthless pirates they were supposed to be.

 The bowl of soup was pushed even closer to his feet.

 Ace glanced up and something twisted in his stomach. Marco was standing tall above him, with a hand on his hip, looking at Ace with the most piercing eyes he had seen. His hair was mussed and the edge of his blue sash was flying in the wind. Just behind his head, Ace could see the shade of sunset, spreading, blending colors varying from yellow to purple.

 Ace froze, feeling his throat clenching. It’d be so much easier if his soulmate was the ugliest asshole he had met, possibly with four eyes and seven arms and shitty personality or some shit like that but no, he had to be nice and handsome.

 “You should eat something, even if you’re angry,” Marco said with a straight face.

  He couldn’t find his voice, staring at him. Marco rolled his eyes, sighing when Ace didn’t move to take the bowl. He stood there for a moment and just watched him, tall, face bathing in the rest of today’s sun. Ace didn’t want to see these eyes, see these thoughtful, perceptive eyes. Ace dropped his gaze, looking at Marco’s chest, at that tattoo of Whitebeard’s simplified Jolly Roger, Whitebeard’s mark. Smooth, narrow lines tattooed in dark blue.

 It was the symbol of a family for all of them.

 Marco eyed him up and down and turned around to leave.

 Ace didn’t know why he spoke up, “Why do you call him Pops?”

 Marco snorted at the question but after that, he gave him the brightest smile Ace had seen on him.

 “Because he calls us his sons,” he answered simply. Ace looked up, facing him. “We were all just outcasts. It makes us happy. It’s just a word but it makes us happy.”

 Ace’s heart tugged and his pulse vibrated within his ears. He could no longer control his hands – they were shaking in an odd, barely visible trembling rhythm. He turned his gaze, slumping, hiding his face in his knees and covering his eyes with his arm.

 The answer was so warmhearted, so hopeful.

 He didn’t say anything, feeling tears welling up and fisting his hands so the knuckles were white. He didn’t dare to even peek at him.

 There was silence and then he heard Marco’s footsteps on the planks of the deck. Through the space between his arm and leg, Ace noticed he was crouching in front of him.

 “How long are you gonna keep risking your life like that?” Marco asked, his voice sounding distant, as if it was coming from behind a wall. “Make up your mind. You can’t kill Pops right now. Are you gonna get off this ship and start over or are you gonna stay and become one of us?”

Ace closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, not being able to look at Marco.

 The First Division Commander got up, snorting but didn’t say anything to Ace, walking away. Ace looked up, seeing his wide back and bent neck.

 “Marco,” he spoke up, testing how the name sounded in his mouth. It wasn’t Phoenix or soulmate but it was the only thing he could have. “Do you have a soulmate?”

 He didn’t know why he asked. He didn’t know how he found the courage.

 They promised each other, he, Luffy and Sabo, that they would live a life without regrets. Ace didn’t want to regret not asking.

 “No, I don’t,” he almost whispered. Everyone had a soulmate and if someone replied they didn’t, it meant one thing. Ace knew it wasn’t the case with Marco, his soulmate was very much alive, sitting less than ten feet apart. “Do you?”

 Ace closed his eyes and then glanced up at the purple part of the sky, far away from Marco’s gaze.

 “Apparently I don’t.”

 Marco didn’t answer him, leaving him alone on the deck, watching how the beautiful purple of the sky changed into a dark, dark blue, lightened up only by stars.

 No one knew Ace was silently crying, feeling so not worth anything in the world, so rejected again.

 It was a spontaneous decision. He went to Whitebeard’s cabin late in the night. He wasn’t sleeping.

 “Come in, my child,” Whitebeard said and Ace didn’t grimace at the word child for the first time.

 Whitebeard patted the empty part of his own bed but Ace didn’t sit down.

 “You want me in your crew,” he began.

 Whitebeard furrowed his eyebrows, smiling. “I don’t want you in my crew,” he cut him short. Ace’s heart clutched. “I want you in my family. I want you to become my son.”

 His chest filled with fire. He calmed his mind, concentrating on the thing at hand.

 “There’s something important you don’t know about me,” he said. “A secret that’s important. That you have to know about before anything.”

 Whitebeard didn’t stop smiling, gazing at him with warm eyes. “I’m all ears.”

 Ace knew he had to say it, he had to admit it. Family was supposed to accept him and if Whitebeard couldn’t do just that, then they would never be a family.

 “My father was Gol D. Roger.”

 Whitebeard looked at him, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth without making a sound. Ace knew it was the end. He closed his eyes, waiting.

 Whitebeard started laughing loudly. “And I thought it was an important secret you were supposed to tell me, Ace, and you’re only telling me about your father.”

 Ace blinked, panicking. “You don’t hate me? Wasn’t he your enemy?!”

 Whitebeard laughed again. “He was my rival, yes,” he replied calmly. “But, in the end, we’re all children of the sea.”

 Ace let out a sob, allowing himself to cry, sniffling loudly. Whitebeard put his huge hand on his head, messing his hair and Ace cried.

 “It’s alright, my son,” was all Whitebeard said.

 Ace had a new father. A one that would love him.

 Leaving Whitebeard’s cabin almost in the morning, he was stopped by Whitebeard's warm voice.

 “Son,” he began. “Do you know about your soulmate?”

 Ace heart froze, his blood running in his veins. He wasn’t surprised Whitebeard knew. Marco was his first son.

 “Don’t worry, Pops,” he replied. “I think I found an understanding with him.”

 It was the truth. Marco pretended his soulmate was dead, not wanting him, and Ace was at peace with that, he would just have to hide his soulmark well.

 At breakfast, technically still the same day, Ace sat down next to Deuce but also next to Curiel and Jozu.

 “Morning, Pops,” he greeted Whitebeard when he entered.

 “Morning, son,” he grinned back.

 Everyone cheered. Ace didn’t even glance at Marco. He didn’t.

 Phoenix. Fushichou.不死鳥. Marco.

 He didn't.

Chapter Text

The problems started later but not much later.

 He was just sitting with Izou on the deck, Thatch was chatting up with some men from his Division less than fifteen feet away, glancing at them from time to time and smiling softly at Izou. Ace’s heart clenched every time he noticed.

 “So,” Izou began absently. “Where do you want your mark to be?”

 Ace panicked internally a bit, hearing word mark but it was just the Pops’s mark Izou was talking about, soulmark’s place couldn’t be changed. If he could, Ace would change it years ago.

 “Dunno,” he replied casually. “I kind of want to make it big. I was never a part of a family, not this huge.”

 “You’re from South Blue, right?” Izou asked. He nodded. “Do you have family waiting there?”

 Ace shook his head, looking at the sea.

 “Nah, I left a brother in the East Blue,” he said. “He should set sails in about two years.”

 Izou hummed, moving his fan. “Is he gonna join us too?”

 It was an honest and simple question, expected even. Ace gave him a short laugh.

 “Definitely no,” he said. “You don’t become Pirate King not being the captain, right?”

 Ace wanted Luffy to become Pirate King. He would be able to say he was proud to have Pirate King in his family then.

 “He wants to become Pirate King?” Izou yelped. Thatch and the group glimpsed at them. “Does crazy run in your family?”

 Yes, was the answer, fucking Gold Roger couldn’t be sane but Ace answered, “Wouldn’t know.”

 Izou looked at him, just looked, understanding and Ace kind of felt bad about lying but it wasn’t really a lie, was it? He moved over, closer to Ace, and their elbows were touching. Kimono’s fabric was soft.

 “About the tattoo,” Izou backtracked. Ace was grateful. “Well, you don’t have to go with a tattoo, not everyone has one, some just wear the mark. Nurses say it’s like willingly poisoning yourself for the rest of your life.”

 Ace shrugged. “Don’t mind the tattoo. It’s permanent and permanent is what I’m hoping for.”

 Izou smiled. “And the design? I will be doing it, you know. I’d like to plan already.”

 “The Jolly Roger, orange, red or purple. No blue or yellow,” he said instantly. Izou blinked. “A big one, I don’t know the place yet.”

 “It’s oddly specific,” Izou cautioned. “The colors.”

 “My brothers chose yellow and blue all the time, mine was orange or purple,” he explained.

 The Sixteenth Division Commander frowned. “Didn’t you say you have a brother in East Blue?”

  Ace knew perfectly well what he said. “I did.”

  Izou moved his elbow even closer to Ace, grazing his ribs with it. It was weirdly comforting. Intimate.

 “There aren’t many places on a body to hold a big tattoo,” Izou continued, changing the topic smoothly. “The chest, the back, maybe your thighs.”

 “I don’t really know.”

 Izou rattled on, not noticing how Ace’s voice became almost a whisper, “It can’t really be on your thigh, though, can it? You have to wear pants so it would be hidden anyway. But if it would be your back or your chest, you won’t be able to wear a shirt. It will be cold.”

 Ace rolled his eyes and Izou nudged him, seeing everything.

 “I’m a Fire Logia, remember?” he snickered. “I don’t get cold.”

 “Your chest or your back it is, then,” Izou concluded. “I kinda feel chest tattoo will be too much like Marco’s mark, though, so maybe your back.”

 Ace’s throat closed and his heart sped up.

 “What do you think?” the Commander insisted. “On your back, we can make it pretty big and an open shirt would be enough to hide it when you don't want the attention.”

 Ace hesitated before asking, not looking Izou in the eyes, “Can ink conceal soulmark?”

 “Fuck, Ace,” he sputtered. “You can’t be serious.”

 He huffed. “Can’t I?”

 Ace didn’t turn to face him but he was sure Izou’s face was heartbroken. After all, Izou found his soulmate and was having a happy ever after with him. Ace’s story was a bit different.

 “Is your soulmate dead?” Izou whispered.

  “Nope.” Ace had the decency to smile. “But I may as well be dead to them.”

 The sixteenth Division Commander stared at him silently.

 “He doesn’t want me,” he added as if to finish himself off.

 Izou cleared his throat. “I kind of understand.” Of fucking course he understood. Ace was helpless, unworthy, a waste of space and nothing more and Izou understood it too. “I mean, Thatch didn’t really want me at first.”

 He didn’t see that coming. “What? But you two-“

 Izou shrugged, smiling sadly at the group Thatch was with. “He thought his soulmate would be some cute girl but instead he got an okama.”

 “Izou,” Ace protested. The tone of Izou’s voice told how he had felt about it. Ace didn’t need to hear it.

 “What I’m saying is,” he interrupted, ignoring him, “you should never stop believing, everything can change.”

 “I’m pretty sure it won’t change for me,” Ace murmured. “The soulmark was a burden for him his whole life.”

 Marco had never told him but it was implied when he pretended his soulmate was dead. And, well, Ace supposed it wasn’t easy to have Pirate King’s surname on your body.

 “I don’t know if it can be covered by ink,” Izou said finally but it sounded as if the words were hurting his mouth. Heart was probably more accurate. “But if it’s in black than it should blend in with black ink, right?”

 “Can soulmark be another color than black?” he wondered.

 Izou chuckled. “Vista’s is red.”

 “Why would someone write in red?” Ace questioned.

 The Sixteenth Division Commander shrugged, smiling softly at him. “Most people ask Vista who would write in blood.”

 “Well, there isn’t much difference,” Ace supplied. “Blood just dries slower than ink.”

 Izou raised an eyebrow at that, looking at him with curious eyes. There was a couple of hairs falling on his forehead. It probably wasn’t a normal thing to say, Ace realized.

 “We didn’t have ink where I lived, just animal blood. We lived in the jungle.”

 Izou cleared his throat.

 “About the tattoo,” he tried again. “I’ll make you a design. Since I’m the tattoo artist, you can just tell me when you’re ready.”

Ace’s heart flipped, pounding. His every muscle tensed and he had the biggest need to turn his gaze away from Izou, preferable get up and leave without looking back. There was no way he could avoid it forever, he knew, but it could be a little bit longer for a while. The Sixteenth Division wasn’t stupid, and even if he was, word Phoenix was pretty obvious in its meaning. For all of the fucking birds Marco had to be a phoenix, not some common sparrow or robin or whatever, but phoenix. Ace hugged himself with his arms, feeling the lack of Izou’s elbow on his skin.

 “You are the tattoo artist?” he asked, frowning.

 Izou made a face. “Is there a problem with that?”

 “Not really,” he answered, his a tone of voice implying something different. “I don’t really want anyone to see the name. I thought it’d be someone outside of crew, like a tattoo artist on some island.”

 Izou watched him with watery eyes, so disappointed, so frustrated. Having secrets wasn’t the best start in the family, Ace had to admit, but there was no other way around it. If the soulmate system hadn’t been wrong, Marco would have a soulmate he deserved, not a cursed child of a demon. Hiding it is the only choice, he repeated to himself in his mind.

 “I don’t know if it’s privacy thing or just you not trusting us,” Izou muttered, “But you can trust me. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, not a word.”

 Ace clenched his jaw, turning his gaze up, to the bright, cloudy sky above them. There was Marco’s soft snort in his ears, blended with the whispers of Thatch and the rest of the group he was standing with. The sun was shining, warming his face but Ace, even as a Fire Logia, felt his skin tingling, experiencing goosebumps so familiar to the ones he got every night, being still on Down Island.

 “I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” he hesitated. “Make me a shirt with the Jolly Roger on the back for the time being.”

 Izou bit his lip but sighed. “Sure.”

 Feeling Ace’s change of mood, he got up to leave him alone. Ace’s chest warmed up when he kept on looking back at him, even when going straight in Thatch’s direction.

 It had been barely two and half week since he joined the family. His soulmark was already a problem.

~~~

 Marco came to him after dinner.

 Ace sensed his present before he even started climbing to the crow’s nest.

 “Izou told me about the mark, yoi,” he started.

 Ace’s heart skipped a beat before he realized he was talking about Pops’s mark. Couldn’t they call it something different? He wouldn’t have to have a mini heart-attack everytime someone said mark.

 Ace gulped, not answering. Marco sat down in front of him, sighing.

 “You can wait with the tattoo, there is no pressure. Pops understands,” he continued.

 He stayed silent, not wanting to tell something he would regret later. Marco’s voice had this effect on him, it was relaxing, warm-hearted, soft and caring. It was also a reminder Marco didn’t deserve shitty soulmate like Ace, didn’t want a shitty soulmate like Ace. Marco’s voice held everything Ace couldn’t have from him.

 “But Izou told me you’re sure about the tattoo,” he added. “You're just not sure if you should show Izou your soulmark.”

 Marco’s voice was steady but Ace knew he was dissatisfied with Ace in a way. He was one of the guys who took the whole crew as a family thing very seriously. The lack of trust was understandable with Ace, practically still getting used to being part of the family but most of them were already familiar with him – he had been on the Moby Dick for more than hundred days already. He wasn't, let’s say, angry but he strongly showed depreciating for Ace closing off on them.

 Ace felt him but at the same time couldn’t make himself open about it. The secrets had been a part of his life since he was born, along with distrust and doubt. Many people had broken him and it wasn’t gonna get fixed in a week. Hell, he may just get more broken by the crew when the find the truth. Whitebeard was their Pops but he wasn’t them – he was one person out of thousand and six hundred.

 “I don’t know what happened in your life,” Marco spoke up again, looking him dead in the eyes. “And I’m not telling you to leave it all behind. It’s a process, a long one. But you can start that process by trusting Izou. He won’t tell if you forbid him.”

 Marco closed his eyes, tilting his head, chin high as if he was searching for starts on the cloudy night sky and just breathed. There and then, Ace could finally look at him for as long as he wanted because no one would see.

 His rising and dropping chest with Pops’s mark, his angular jaw, his protruding Adam’s apple, this subtle stubble. The way his hair, mussed by the wind, were shining even in the dark. His broad shoulders, his lean legs. He was much older form Ace but it didn’t really show on him. In Ace’s eyes, there was this warm, kind aura to him which made Marco even more pleasant.

 On Marco’s strong body, there, somewhere, was the name that was supposed to be Ace’s but was just his father’s.

 Maroc opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow at him but Ace kept staring.

 Regarding Marco with his gaze for the last time, he grimaced at himself, at how easily his composure had slipped.

 He got up and jumped out of the crow’s nest.

 To hell with that, he’s going get that tattoo and hide the Phoenix under ink. Then he would have to forget about Marco because he wouldn’t be meant to be Ace’s anymore. Ace had never doubted he wasn’t his but this way, his mind would stop making him think otherwise.

~~~

 Izou showed him the design and it was good. It was a Whitebeard Jolly Roger in the color of mixed dark purple and red. Burgundy, Izou said. The best part was the background, pitch-black that was looking as it was dripping of Ace’s back into the fire, black fire with burgundy shadowing on the tips.

 It had a big square of black on the top which was supposed to hide his soulmark. Izou really did it. Ace was amazed.

 “Tell me when you’re ready,” Izou said, giving him a weird mix of a smile and grimace, observing how Ace was scrutinizing the design.

 It was the end of life as a soulmate for Ace and he was oddly at peace with it.

 “Now would be great,” he spat out.

 Izou sent him an unsure smile, tucking a few of his hair behind his ear. “Now is it then.”

 Ace was sure about the tattoo until he wasn’t sitting on the table, watching Izou preparing seastone needle and ink. It was gonna take a few hours at least but he wasn’t afraid of the pain – he was afraid of regretting.

 Izou rolled up his sleeves, looking very professional. He took out transfer paper and Ace fidgeted.

 “I’ll transfer the sketch of the design first, then we'll see how it looks and adjust if necessary,” he explained.

 Ace froze, gulping.

 “You’ll see my soulmark in a moment,” he spilled out. “But you have to promise me, you won’t tell anyone. On Pops’s life.”

 Izou frowned, leaning against one of the countertops. He had a joke on the tip of his tongue but something held him back, Ace’s face, Ace’s voice, Ace’s whole demeanor, it was all so serious. Izou couldn’t care less about who was his soulmate. However, if Ace fretted about it, he could respect that.

 “I promise,” he said only.

 Ace bit his lip, staring at the floor for a long moment. Izou didn’t hurry him up – they had all the time in the world, his comfort was the priority for Izou.

 Ace took a long breath and took his shirt off, still not turning his back to Izou. He counted to ten in his head, slowly and steadily. There was no other way, he told himself, you were never a soulmate material.

 He showed his back to Izou, just like he showed it years ago to Garp – bending his neck in trust, hunching his shoulders and waiting. He was met with the same kind of silence – stretchy, awkward and tense.

 Izou stopped breathing for a moment. It was a huge mark, three big kanjis filled completely Ace’s shoulders, looking beautiful and intimidating. It was the most intensive black he had ever seen and the mark was simply magnificent.

 It was also saying Phoenix.

不死鳥

 Fushichou.

 Phoenix.

 Ace was Marco’s soulmate. Ace was Marco’s soulmate.

 Izou’s stare bored a nonexisting hole in Ace’s shoulder blades, his eyes narrowed, developing a tunnel vision. Transfer paper he was holding began to wrinkle, making a rustle when Izou’s fist closed and his muscles stiffened. His stomach clenched with the force of his restraint.

 There he was, about to permanently cover Marco’s name on his back with tattoo ink.

 “I think I need a fucking explanation,” Izou sputtered.

 Ace didn’t even glance at him, slumping into himself even more.

 “There’s no explanation,” he almost whispered. “I have a soulmark I have never wanted to have. That no one ever wanted me to have.”

 “Does Marco know?” Izou asked back, hesitating if he should know the answer. Ace’s silence was meaningful. “He should know.”

  Ace tensed. “You promised,” he reminded.

 Yes, Izou promised not to tell anyone but it didn’t make the whole situation acceptable. He swallowed down his frustration.

 “I did and I won’t tell anyone,” he spat out. “I just don’t understand. Marco loves the concept of soulmates.”

 Ace snorted, sounding really tired. He rubbed his face with his hand, taking a calming breath. “Sure he does. Has he ever told you who is his soulmate?” His voice was stifled.

 “No.”

 “Do you know why?” Ace continued. “Because his mark is probably my birth name, Izou. Let’s just say I wasn’t born a Portgas.”

 It was a bit of surprise but not too much. Many of their brothers and sisters used new names. Izou himself stopped using his surname as soon as he left his country.

 “That doesn’t really change anything.”

  Ace looked at him with fire in the eyes, obtrusive. “It does. There’s this one thing hidden in my birth name, just one, which makes me hated by the whole world. A dark secret.”

  Izou would accept it all if Ace’s soulmate was someone other than Marco. But it was Marco and there was no such thing that would make him hate his soulmate, hate him Ace. At the same time, Marco had never really talked about his soulmate with anyone other than Pops. Everyone, incorrectly, assumed his soulmate was dead.

 “I really want to forget about the whole soulmate business,” Ace added. “Please, can I just get the tattoo?”

 Izou hold his gaze, looking Ace in the eyes – seeing the desperation, the profound sadness, and resignation which didn’t suit him at all. But even watching him, he could still imagine Marco’s face.

 “I can’t do that, Ace,” he replied in the end. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

 Ace turned his gaze away, looking back at the floor and squinting his eyes and hiding his face in his palms. He gave a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

 “Great,” he snapped and put his shirt back on hastily. He left the room and Izou could only look at the open jar with ink and prepared needle.

 The transfer paper in his hand became a wrinkled ball.

~~~

“You’re really distracted, you know. I’ve been trying to kiss you properly since we left the kitchen,” he whispered, close to his ear. “I’d feel offended if I wasn’t worried, Izou.”

 He looked up at Thatch, seeing this fond smile the chef had been giving him since they became a couple. His eyebrows furrowed and he laid a hand on Thatch’s chest, glancing down. They were still in the corridor, near the Commanders’ quarters. Everybody could see which was kind of unexpected – the Fourth Division Commander was, when it came to being affectionate, a private person.

 Izou was kind of more preoccupied with the whole Ace-Marco thing. It wasn’t that he was a match-maker or some shit like that. Ace was obviously hurting, considering the conversation he had with Izou before he decided to have the tattoo, he was suffering. He said all those things about the soulmate system being mistaken but it was plain as a day he cared. There was something wrong with the situation between Marco and Ace.

 And Izou had always thought Marco was so much into the soulmate thing, he was basically longing for someone to love. Everyone assumed Marco’s soulmate was dead, lost for good and Izou was part of this everyone. There was something in the way Marco observed all that happy soulmate couples, with eyes full of disappointment, resignation, and sorrow. He obviously cared too.

 Thatch cupped his cheek, scrutinizing his face.

 “Izou,” he went on, “what is it?”

 He bit his lip. He didn’t have secrets from each other, not since they got together, but it wasn’t Izou’s secret either.

 “Ace wants me to cover his soulmark with Pops’s mark,” he admitted quietly. “I’m just not so sure about it.”

 It wasn’t a complete lie. There was a part missing, a soulmark which says Phoenix part.

 Thatch looked struck. Izou took a step back, not that much in the mood for anything anymore. He kind of wondered if Thatch thought about having a tattoo over his name when they were still figuring things out. It made him even more hesitant and sad about the situation.

 “Did he tell you why?” his soulmate sputtered, tensing.

 “He did,” he answered simply. Thatch held out a hand for him to take. He did take it.

 “Is it reasonable?” he continued.

 Izou gripped his palm tighter. “I don’t know anymore. Is there any reason that would be sufficient enough to hide your soulmark forever?”

 Thatch took a deep breath, probably understanding more than Izou. He was the one who rejected his soulmate, just like Ace was being now. But he changed his mind and it was one of many things holding Izou back. He wasn’t even so sure if Marco didn’t want Ace as his soulmate, even though Ace had told him himself.

 In the corner of his eyes, looking at the corridor leading to the Commanders’ quarters, he saw the familiar purple shirt and blond hair. Now or never, he supposed.

 “I have to talk with Marco,” he said hastily. “See you later, babe.”

 Quickening the pace, he heard behind his back a sharp, “Izou! ”

 Finding Marco at the door of his cabin, he took a deep breath, preparing himself.

 The First Division Commander furrowed his eyebrows, seeing him. “What’s up?”

 Izou prepared himself for the most awkward and least smooth conversation in his life. He would have to keep Ace out of it, promise, even if stupid, was a promise.

 “I need to ask you something,” he explained. “It’s kind of weird and out of context but it’s important.”

 Marco raised an eyebrow. “Ask away then.”

 He looked around the corridor, still hearing distant voices in the background. “It’s not a conversation we should have out in the open, I guess.”

 Marco rubbed his forehead with his hand, sighing. “Come in, yoi.”

 He opened the doors and allowed Izou in.

 “Pardon the mess,” he added.

 There were dirty shirts and pants laying on the floor, a desk full of paperwork, spilled ink and a bunch of books on various piles but Izou didn’t pay attention to the mess at all.

 “So,” Marco prompted. “What did you want to ask me?”

 “What’s your soulmate’s name?” He froze, waiting for the impact.

 Marco started choking, on what, Izou didn’t know. Probably on his own saliva.

 “What brought that one on?” he managed to say after a few seconds. He was surprisingly calm.

 “I said it’s out of context,” Izou reminded. “Just curiosity, I guess.”

 “Curiosity, you say.” Marco raised an eyebrow again. He took a deep breath. His face was much more composed but the Sixteenth Division Commander saw the flicker of resignation in his gaze and a familiar sad smile. “It’s not a secret, to be honest. No one has ever asked.”

 Izou knew. That’s why he actually asked, knowing Marco didn’t keep secrets from his family on purpose but also didn’t have a habit of announcing all of the details of his life. Pops was aware of Marco’s not-so-secret secrets, knowing him for the longest time and having the biggest amount of this kind of conversations.

 Marco started to untie the blue sash from around his middle.

 “I’m taken, Marco, you don’t have to strip for me,” he spat out.

 The First Division Commander blinked, stopping mid-move. He simply glared at Izou.

 He mostly made the comment to break a bit of the tension. It worked because Marco’s shoulders relaxed.

 “Do you want to know or not?”

 Izou shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I do.”

 Marco rolled his eyes and untied the rest of the sash. Between his hand and the rim of the shirt, Izou could see a simple shape of katakana letters. Marco took his hand away, pushing his shirt back so it was clearly visible.

 Izou’s heart froze and his face became as pale as death itself.

 Black, thin, scratchy letters, bigger than Izou’s palm. Not as big as Ace’s but still.

 ゴール・D・

 Gol D.

 “I don’t understand,” he blurted out.

 Marco cackled. “Hell if I do.”

 It wasn’t Ace. It wasn’t Portgas D. It wasn’t Fire Fist. Did Izou misunderstand it all? Was Ace someone else’s soulmate? But why would he ask Izou not to tell Marco? It didn’t make sense.

 “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at it like that,” Marco huffed.

 “It doesn’t really answer my question,” Izou replied dumbly.

 “I don’t really have an answer for it, yoi,” he said. “I thought it was Roger when I was younger but Roger had a woman, Rouge, as a soulmate. Then I thought it maybe would be his kid.”

 It was like a punch in the face for Izou.

 “But even if he had a kid, they are certainly dead, after what the Marines did to all of these pregnant women in South Blue,” Marco continued, not noticing the change of mood.

 “Are you sure?” he spluttered.

 This way, it all made sense. Ace was from South Blue but lived in East Blue. His parents were dead. He had this aura around himself, like he was holding the whole world on his shoulder. He was powerful, he had a fucking Conqueror’s Haki. There was something everyone in the world would hate him for, just like he told Izou. His birth name held a dark secret, just like he told Izou. Marco’s soulmark was his birth name, just like he told Izou.

 Ace’s birth name was Gol D. Ace. His father was the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger.

 That made Izou not understand even more. Where was the problem then? It was a bit of shock but nothing too major.

 Maroc looked at him strangely.

 “Did you hit your head, Izou?” he snorted. “Of course they are dead. The Marines had the name of the mother on Roger’s chest. How could they not found her?”

 It was depressing.

 Izou didn’t know what to do. They were both clueless idiots. Maybe he should talk with Pops.

~~~

 Marco didn’t know what was going on. Ace didn’t come out of his room for the last three days, refusing to open the door even when Marco brought him food. Izou was looking the way Haruta usually looked after doing something he shouldn’t have – guilty wasn’t quite the right word but something was definitely wrong. Additionally, every time Marco ended up close to Izou, he started laughing nervously. Thatch said he didn’t know what it was about but Marco got the feeling he kind of did know. It began after that weird talk about the soulmate they had.

 When Ace didn’t show up for the fourth breakfast in the row, Pops stared at him, expecting something and Marco didn’t know what exactly he was expecting.

 It was, once again, a proof he had idiots for a family.

At dinner, Pops asked him to sit with him. It was always a bit tricky, sitting with the bigger crewmembers – they had bigger, higher tables and chairs. Marco had to sit on the countertop to eat like a normal person.

 There was an awkward couple of minutes when no one said anything. Everyone at the table was silent, waiting for the occasion to eavesdrop – for a crew of cruel pirates they gossiped a lot.

 “Son,” Whitebeard began and everyone held their breath. “How has been Ace?”

 Marco frowned, not really understanding where it came from. “Well, I wouldn’t really know, he doesn’t want to see anyone.”

 “Did you have a fight?” Pops continued. “Did he tell you why he’s acting like that?”

  Marco’s confusion only increased. From all of the people, he wasn’t the best person to be asked. Thatch, Izou, Ace’s ex-first mate – they all had better relationships with him, spent with Ace more time. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, Marco was kind of fond of Ace – the brat was stubborn as a mule, perseverant, easy-going and complex, too caring in Marco’s liking. But the Fire Logia, well, Marco got mixed signals from him. One moment, Ace was awestruck by him, looking at him with earn eyes and smile on his face, casually joking with him and just having a good time. Then, a moment later, Ace would close himself off, gazing at Marco like at the most despised thing in the world, with anger and tense muscles, grimy face. It changed in hours, sometimes in minutes and sometimes in seconds. Marco never knew why.

 Ace was an enigma.

 There was, also, something very heavy in his heart and Marco wasn't able to fix it, didn’t even know how to start fixing it.

 “I don’t talk much with him, yoi,” he admitted. “The questions are suited better for Izou, Thatch or even Haruta. Preferably for the ex-Spade crew.”

 Pops cringed at that and Marco wondered again what he said wrong.

 “I know both of you are not too affectionate,” he deadpanned, “but maybe you should try to be a little more open about your feelings with Ace. He may be lost in the situation more than you think.”

 He had to blink at that. He squinted his eyes, looking at his father as if he was stupid. What the fuck was going on?

 “And why should I do that? Pops, I think we have some kind of misunderstanding here,” he clarified.

 “Hmm,” Pops wondered. “I suppose I thought you would be more keen about finding your soulmate. It was pretty unexpected but I can see you and Ace making a good pair.”

 Marco’s brain kind of stopped working after that. The whole galley gasped, staying silent for a couple of extensive seconds. The whole room erupted.

 “Commander Marco! Commander Marco! Why didn’t you tell us?”

 “Woah! Congratulations!”

 “Ace as a soulmate? You’re gonna have a lot of headaches, mate!”

 “How it is we didn’t know?”

 “Rude, Marco! Shouldn’t have kept it secret!”

 “Since when are you soulmates? We all thought your soulmate was dead?”

 “Yeah, Pops,” he squealed with high pitched voice, wide-eyed. “Since when are we soulmates? You remember what my mark says, right?”

 Izou covered his face behind a hand. Thatch reminded frozen, watching the whole ordeal like an unfolding trainwreck.

 Pops blinked. “Didn’t Ace tell you about everything? About his father?”

 Marco’s heart stopped beating. “What.”

 Ace was his soulmate? But how? But the Gol D. on his che- His father? Was that Ace’s-

 “What,” he repeated.

 Pops gave him a worried glance. “I’m so sorry, son. I was sure you knew.”

 He felt like he was suddenly finding himself with a trap door dropping out from under him, in complete surprise. His lips grew thin and firm and he gaped, uncertain whether to breath or scream. A chill froze him to his spot and there was a hard, quick pulse in his throat. The first moments felt like an earthquake - profound destabilization, a foundation giving way to an abyss. How could this happen?

  It felt bad.

 As the initial fog of hopelessness lifted, he suffered from extreme anger. Anger and unforgiveness that stayed rock solid and untouched deep inside him.

 He got up hastily, flaming on literally and lyrically – his blue fire was caressing his skin and there was pure rage on his face. He left the galley with everyone frozen.

 For the next half hour, they heard Marco’s screams muffled by the walls of the Moby Dick. Pops shrugged, calmly drinking his sake.

~~~

He broke the doors to Ace’s room. Well, he kicked them out.

He had been waiting twenty years, then he thought he didn’t have anyone to wait for for the next twenty and this fucking brat did what.

His eyes sharpened, face looking cold. He didn’t know what to feel.

 Ace, still dream-hazed, sleepy, lifting his head from his pillow and squinting. He was there, really, alive, looking angelic and absolutely perfect and Marco stopped in his track for a second to simply look at him, look at his soulmate.

 Word soulmate destroyed any calm he had left. A cloud of warning settled over his features and anger boiled in him. He could feel his control slipping, blue and yellow flames showing up on his shoulders and chest, under his sash, making a pattern after his every step.

 “Marco?” Ace spoke up, running his fingers through his hair, still leaning on his elbow. “Are we under attack or something?”

Marco’s heart skipped a bit. And then he erupted.

 He grabbed Ace by his collar and pushed up harshly. Ace wriggled in his hold.

 “What the- What are you doing?!” he yelled.

 “What am I doing? What the fuck did you think you were doing, huh?!”

 Just because he could, he threw Ace at the wall, letting go of his shirt.

 “The hell- Marco?!” he sputtered, getting up and firing up.

 Ace’s flames were so similar to his own – bright, curious, flattering. His every muscle tensed like he was preparing himself for a fight. There they stood, like two overwhelming sparks, blending blue and red fire into violet.

 “Come on,” Marco spat out. “Show me your soulmark, Ace. Show me.”

 A look of great bitterness swept across his face, his hands were shaking. Anger curled hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn him from the inside out. His pulse raced and he breathed as if he would burst. 

 Ace had only a few seconds of pure shock and terror showed on his face. But those were only seconds and a scowl appeared, followed by an unnerving wave of Conqueror’s Haki, one which surprised Marco more than did anything to him – Ace had no training with Haki, it reacted to his strong emotions.

 “No,” he protested, getting up and trying to pass him.

 Marco grabbed his arm with ruthless pressure.

 “No? You have the courage to say no to me when I’m this pissed off,” he barked.  “But you didn’t have a fucking courage to say you're my soulmate?”

 At that moment, something changed in Ace. In a flash, he was the one holding Marco by the collar, looking ready to murder and so crashed at the same time.

“Why should I, huh?” he countered. “Why should I say anything, you fucking said you don’t have a soulmate. You pretended I was dead.”

 There was something in his voice which forced Marco to shut up.

 “Hell, I know you probably wished your whole life it wasn’t my name,” he added bitterly. “You made yourself clear you don’t want your fucking soulmate so I removed myself from your life. Just like you pretended to.”

There was some serious misunderstanding between them, Marco realized. They both screwed up.

 “Ace-“ he interrupted.

 He paid him no mind.

 “So what if I have Phoenix on my back, huh?” he continued. “I knew since I was a kid that the soulmate system has fucked up. Meeting you didn’t really change anything, right?”

 “Ace,” he said, without a touch of anger anymore. He took the hand that was holding his shirt into his own and caressed it with his thumb. “Please, calm down.”

 Ace looked him in the eyes, still with clenched jaw and white knuckles. The fire in his hair and on his shoulder and arms died down and almost unnoticeable tears started streaming down his cheeks.

 He opened his mouth but nothing was said. Marco could only stand there, terrified he fucked up everything they could be.

 Ace hastily wiped away the tears, turning his back on him and choking on air. He didn’t move an inch and Marco needed to touch him, to make it all better but didn’t really know if Ace would want that.

“Leave me alone, Commander.”

There was one thing he could do. He untied the sash, uncovering the name that caused all the problems.

ゴール・D・

 Gol D.

 In Marco’s eyes, it was still beautiful. Ace just couldn’t see.

 “Come on, Ace,” he said softly. “Show me yours and I will show you mine, right?”

 He didn’t turn around but his shoulders were shaking.

 “I didn’t pretend you were dead,” Marco spoke up. Ace turned around sharply, glaring at him with glassy eyes and Marco’s heart stumbled over its own rhythm. “I didn’t. I honestly thought you were dead.”

 “What?”

 Marco took a step in his direction and smiled shyly when Ace didn’t move away from him.

 “There’s no first name,” he explained, pointing with his hand his soulmark. “It’s just Gol D. I thought it was Roger at first.” Ace cringed. “Then I thought maybe it would be his future child. But the next thing I know, he is being executed and his unborn child and soulmate are being hunted by every Marine in the world. I thought they killed you.”

 “But they didn’t,” Ace whispered.

 “They didn’t and I can’t be more grateful,” Marco responded fiercely. “So please, show me.”

 Ace hesitated, staring at the bold letters on Marco’s midsection.

ゴール・D・

 Gol D. stared at him back.

 He, once again, turned his back on Marco, taking his shirt off, slumped his back, baring it, bending his neck in trust and dipping his chin in his chest. Just like he did years ago when he asked Gramps what it meant.

 Knowing it was there and seeing was completely different. It took away Marco’s breath. It was huge, bigger than any mark he had seen, like a symbol which meant Ace was his no one could ignore. It was Marco’s handwriting, Marco’s epithet on Marco’s soulmate.

不死鳥

 Fushichou.

 Phoenix. No one could mistake whose name it was and Marco’s heart swelled.

 He reached to trace it with his fingers and Ace flinched at the touch. Marco’s hand was cold and Ace’s body was warm, like standing next to a bonfire.

 “It’s like a dream come true,” Marco confessed.

 Ace snorted, fidgeting. “I bet having a demon child as a soulmate must have been a dream.”

 “I don’t care who your father was,” he clarified. “What I care about is that you’re mine, you’re alive and you’re here.”

 Ace moved his hand to hide his face, Marco took the last step and hugged him, holding Ace’s head in the crook of his neck and stroking Ace’s hair.

 “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Marco said. “Not now, not ever.”

 They came to the galley around dinner time. Ace still looked like he was uncomfortable in his own skin but Marco’s left arm was firmly wrapped around his waist.

 Pops started laughing.

~~~

 The thing was, Marco really didn’t allow Ace to leave his sight. They were together everywhere. Everywhere.

 In Marco’s office. In Pops’s room. In the infirmaries. In Ace’s room. At the table. They were there together.

 No one protested, of course. Marco was more relaxed than ever, more forgiving and calm. For most of his subordinates, it was like having extended holidays. After all, soulmates tended to be too lovely-dovely at first and Ace and Marco weren't this bad – Ace was still hesitant as if Marco was going to suddenly disappear any moment. He wasn’t into a public display of affection, no one was really surprised, he was raised in a cold way, caring more about surviving than having warmth in his life.

 But he did start to warm up. After three weeks he stopped cringing when Maroc kissed his cheek or his forehead, he wasn’t fidgeting feeling Marco’s arm around himself. Their flames were always mixed around them, hot red and cold blue, becoming the shade of violet sky at sunrise.

 Izou kind of envied them how close they became in such a short time, how much they were able to show they cared for each other. Many of the people on Moby Dick felt the same way.

 They had this routine when they watched the sky turn from purple to dark blue, sitting in various places on the ship, on deck, in the crow’s nest, on the railing, on the forecastle. No one bothered them when they were talking.

 Ace, in the end, told him everything, every part of his life.

 “My mum, still pregnant, was rescued by Gramps, I mean Garp the Fist,” he said. “She carried me for twenty months so no one could even suspect Gold Roger was my father, he was long dead by the time I was born. My mum died giving birth to me.”

 He told him about Luffy, about Dadan, about Sabo. He told him what Garp told him when he was ten.

 He told him about all these men that said he should have never been born.

 He told him how afraid of having a family he was.

And Marco listened.

~~~

 It was a day like every other. Marco was just getting a list of things they should stock on in the next port from Thatch.

 “So,” Thatch cautioned. “How do you feel about Ace getting the tattoo today?”

 Marco froze. “What? I thought Ace didn’t want to get it anymore.”

 Thatch looked at him weirdly. “You didn’t know?” he questioned. “Ace came to our, I mean Izou’s, room in the morning. They’ve probably started by now.”

 Before Thatch could add anything, Marco left the room, feeling his heart ripping out of his chest. It’s a misunderstanding, he told himself, Ace isn’t going to cover his name.

 He fastened the pace. He came through the door with hurry, just before Izou started applying the ink. Izou jerked.

 “Do you not remember what I told everyone about coming here without knocking?” he sputtered. “I work with needles, Marco, sharp needles.”

 “Marco?” Ace asked, lifting his head and turning a bit. He was lying on his stomach, his shirt taken off, his hands folded under his chin. “What are you doing here?”

 “Don’t get the tattoo,” he spat out.

 Izou blinked, huffing, and rubbed his face with his hand, putting down the needle. “What is it this time?”

 Ace sat up, turning to him. “What? Why?”

 “I know you don’t like showing you soulmark, even if you know now that I love you,” he said hastily. “Just, don’t hide it permanently.”

 Ace furrowed his eyebrows but smiled. “Marco, I’m getting Pops’s mark,” he said slowly. “Not covering your name.”

 Izou coughed in the background, trying to hide his laugh.

 Ace folded his arms over his naked chest. “To be honest, I’m doing the opposite. As soon the bandages are off, I’ll stop wearing shirts and everyone will see your name on my back all the time.”

 “Yeah, Marco,” Izou snickered. “But you know, your panic was very cute.”

 Marco felt dumb but also relieved.

 “You’re silly,” Ace chuckled. “Izou is going to get me Pops’s Jolly Roger on my back, under your name. Stay with me for the time being?”

 Maroc could only say yes, take his hand and sit down next to the table Ace was lying on.

 The whole thing with the tattoo made him think.

 After the tattoo healed, Ace stopped wearing shirts altogether, with the exception of docking on an island that wasn’t pirate-friendly. Every time he saw his own name on his back, on his shoulder blades, his face lightened up.

不死鳥

 Fushichou.

 Phoenix. It was even more beautiful with Pops’s Jolly Roger under it. It showed how Ace belonged to Marco, how he was not only family to Marco but also his soulmate.

 It made him think because Marco would be never able to show his soulmark to the world, it was too big of a risk. And even if he was able to, Ace didn’t really like Marco’s soulmark – he didn’t like seeing, never identified with it. Marco understood it in a way – Ace was Ace, or Portgas D., or Fire Fist but never a Gol D. Well, not never, he accepted the name only for Marco.

 That’s why he came up with the idea. It was worth it, just to see the way Ace’s face brightened up and his eyes welled with happy tears.

 He made Vista go with Ace into town for the whole day and snatched Izou.

 Ace came back at dusk. Seeing Marco, he instinctively ran up to greet him. Marco put his hands in his pockets, giving Ace a clear view. He froze.

 There, in Ace’s handwriting Izou copied from one of the reports, on Marco’s chest, above Pops’s simplified mark, was Ace’s name.

 火拳

 Hiken.

 Fire Fist.

 “What do you think?” Marco asked.

 Ace grinned. “I absolutely love it,” he said, closing in to hug Marco.

 There was, in the tone of his voice, hidden I love you he wasn’t comfortable enough to say, probably won’t be comfortable enough to say for a long time. But it was there.