Chapter Text
“Whatcha doing?” Ace leans over Jozu’s shoulder, getting a good look at the cards in his hand.
Jozu yelps. “Agh! When did you get here? Haruta, how long has he been here?”
“Beats me,” Haruta shrugs, unconcerned. “We’re playing blackjack, wanna join?”
“Yeah, sure.” Ace takes a seat between Jozu and Thatch, making grabby hands for the deck of cards that Marco is holding. “Cards?”
Marco obliges, handing over a jack of spades and another card that’s facing downwards. “You know how to play, right?”
Ace nods. “Yeah, the bandits taught me. Well, they didn’t teach me, but I figured it out by watching them.”
“Good. Hit or pass?”
“Hit.”
Thatch raises a hand, watching the interaction with growing bewilderment. “Are we going to ignore the fact that he just said he learned to play cards from bandits?”
“I didn’t learn. I just watched them until I figured it out. Still can’t play poker…” Ace grimaces. “I should probably figure out how to play poker at some point.”
“You can’t play poker?! ” Haruta looks personally offended, turning to Jozu with a horrified look on their face. “Jozu, our littlest brother can’t even play poker!”
“I heard, Haruta.”
“We have to fix that! You have to help me teach him! You have to!”
“...You know what, sure. It’s bound to be amusing, at least.”
Ace shrugs. “You don’t have to. I’ll just go figure it out at a bar or something.”
“Absolutely not!” cries Haruta. “That would deprive us of the chance to do brotherly bonding- ”
“Haruta, hit or pass, yoi?”
“Oh- uh, hit?” Haruta takes the card Marco passes him, then falls backwards with a desolate expression, dropping all four of their cards on the deck. “A king? No way!”
Izou snickers, waving his own cards. “I’ll hit too, Marco!”
“I won’t,” Ace says, shaking his head. “Jozu?”
Jozu, who has been watching the whole interaction with growing befuddlement, blinks a few times and shakes his head. “Uh, no, I’ll pass.”
Marco distributes the proper cards, reclining against the railing as Izou, too, busts. Jozu and Ace both decline once again, and they all lay down their cards together to determine the winner. “Nineteen for me, yoi.”
“Same,” Thatch notes, displaying his cards right next to Marco’s.
Ace cheers. “Twenty-one!”
“No fair, you saw my cards!” Jozu pouts. “I only have eighteen!”
“S’not my fault you got those cards. Besides, what’s me seeing your cards going to do?”
“It’s the principle of the matter-”
Marco cuts them both off, leaning forwards. “Do we have a problem?”
“N-no, Marco!”
“Then can you both take this somewhere else?”
The pair is gone in a second, dragging Haruta and Izou to the kitchen with them. Marco sighs heavily, remembering what happened last time Ace was allowed in the kitchen, and mentally notes that he’ll have to remember to deduct the damages from Ace’s division.
Thatch leans back next to him, putting his arms above his head as he relaxes against the railing. “You know, Ace is a bit odd, isn’t he?”
“Mm?” Marco glances over. “How so?”
“Well, he says he learned from bandits, but I thought he grew up in the forest.”
“Maybe it was a thieves’ wood. They’re less common nowadays, but there are still some around.”
“That would make sense, except Haruta said the other day that they heard Ace using Marine slang. How would he pick that up in a thieves’ wood? Or any forest, for that matter?”
“Marine slang? Just the common stuff or the kind of thing that only the older commanders use? He could’ve just picked it up in a town or something if it’s only some common phrases.”
“But it’s not just common phrases, it’s old-timer stuff. Who would’ve taught some wild child from the woods about old Marine slang?”
“I… have no idea. Here, ask Haruta about it the next time you see them. Maybe they can clear it up.”
Thatch gives Marco a sharp nod, no doubt taking the words to heart. Marco sighs once more, closing his eyes as he relaxes. Maybe he’ll get a nap in before he’s inevitably interrupted by the aftermath of whatever chaos Ace wrought in the kitchen. Honestly, they should know better than to take him in there by now. He’s banned for a reason.
oOoOo
“Marco.”
His eyes snap open as a disgruntled expression makes itself at home on his face. “What.”
Haruta blanches and Izou follows suit, both drawing back slightly. “Uh, we… can just come back later…? It’s not that important-”
“No, I’m awake now,” he sighs. “What do you want?”
Haruta is the one to start. “Well, Thatch wanted to know about the Marine slang Ace was using-”
“-and we figured we should tell you about it, since you’re old as dirt and you’d probably have an easier time figuring out how old the slang is,” Izou finishes seamlessly, as though they’d rehearsed it beforehand. Knowing the two of them, they very well might have.
“Go ahead, I’m listening.” Ignoring the jab about his age, Marco groans as he lays back against the rail, knowing he won’t be allowed to continue sleeping but hoping to get a few extra minutes in anyways. Maybe Haruta and Izou won’t notice if he just takes a little nap right here.
“So, the other day at lunch, I was helping Thatch bring out the food…”
Marco’s eyes slip shut and his siblings’ alternating voices start to blur away like an echo in the wind, until one particular phrase jerks him awake. “Hang on, what was that last bit? Repeat that?”
“...Uh, he said that Marx was ‘swinging the lead’ and that he needed to get it together?” Haruta furrows their brow, looking a bit baffled at Marco’s sudden interest.
“He said that?”
Izou is the one to respond this time. “...Yes?”
Marco leans back and lets himself slide down against the railing, his back pressing uncomfortably against the carved, knobbly wooden patterns that decorate the guardrails encircling the deck of the Moby. “How.”
“Well, Marx was slacking off a bunch, so I told Ace about it and he said that, and-”
“I know how the conversation went,” Marco says, interrupting Haruta. “I want to know how he heard that. Nobody’s said stuff like ‘swinging the lead’ since Roger was sailing. The only people who might still use that kind of outdated terminology are the higher Marines, and that’s only because they’ve been in service for Davy Jones only knows how long.”
“‘Outdated terminology’, he says,” Izou mutters, making Haruta snicker at the First Commander’s uptight phrasing. “And you claim Ace’s slang is strange?”
“It is!” Marco puffs up, much like the bird he turns into, before realizing that he’s getting worked up over something as trivial as a slang phrase. “Whatever. Go bother Ace about it if you’re really that curious. I’m going to go sit with Oyaji and finish my nap – the one that you both so rudely interrupted, might I add.”
oOoOo
“Have you noticed,” Thatch starts, “that Ace is a little weird?”
Izou pauses in his eating, giving Thatch a slightly baffled look. “...Thatch, have you met us? That’s practically our trademark at this point. Our captain has a mustache for a beard and our First Commander is a bird, how much weirder can it really get?”
“I’m serious! How does he know all the random stuff that he knows?”
“Random stuff… like what? If you mean all that knowledge about the woods, it’s because he grew up there with some bandits. I asked once.”
“No, I mean- wait. You asked? Like, you actually talked to him about it? And he didn’t attack you for bringing it up?”
“...Why would he attack me for talking to him? Ace only gets annoyed when people act cagey about stuff. He never gets mad at me for just asking him stuff. You should try it some time; it might be more helpful than skulking around and gossiping about him.”
“Oh, like you’re anyone to talk. I know you and Haruta have been conspiring against Fossa and Kingdew for three weeks, not to mention you’re gossiping to me right now.”
Izou sniffs. “They know what they did. And besides, the chef gossiping and gossiping to the chef are two different things. You’re doing one. I am doing the other.”
Muttering an incoherent yet annoyed response, Thatch shovels the rest of his food into his mouth and goes to drop his plate off with the rest of the dishes before heading up to the deck. Oyaji is already there, reclining in his chair as he laughs, surrounded by his sons, as he should be. Thatch grins at the sight, heading across the deck to sit in his usual place amongst his brothers. Haruta is on one side of him and Fossa on the other, and Marco is perched up on Oyaji’s shoulder like the lovely parrot that he denies being.
“Oi, Thatch!” Haruta grins, waving the chef over. “We have an idea, d’you want in?”
Thatch tilts his head, making an expression like he’s thinking hard. “… Do I want in?” In all actuality, he really was thinking hard. He and Haruta often worked together on pranks, sure, but they never planned in front of other people. Also, if Haruta had seen the last prank that Thatch had so kindly left for them in the stockrooms, there was a good chance that this was an elaborate plot for revenge, in which case Thatch would need to get very far away from here as soon as possible.
Haruta grins, and as sunshiney as it is, Thatch can’t help but feel as though his life has just been mildly endangered. “Oh, you definitely want in.”
“Well, can’t argue with that,” he acquiesces, shrugging mildly. At least whatever happens will be interesting. “Who’s our victim?”
“Ace.”
“Mhm, and what-” Thatch stops. “...Repeat, please.”
Fossa elaborates, cutting off Haruta before they could even get a word in. Probably for the best; Haruta’s explanations weren’t always the most comprehensive, and in this case, probably would have left Thatch with more questions than he’d started with. “We wanna know what Ace’s deal is. He’s a weird little dude and I have questions, so we’re gonna get answers. So, are you with us?”
“Because if you’re not with us,” Haruta manages to chime in, their grin turning devilish in an instant, “then you’re against us. Are you against us, Thatch?”
Marco, ever the sensible brother, takes it upon himself to smack Haruta upside the head. “Stop trying to intimidate Thatch. If he says no, we’ll just ask Izou or Kingdew.”
Oyaji, who has been largely silent during this whole affair, shakes his head with a content sigh. “I do believe that your problem could be solved by simply talking to Ace, my sons.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Wheedles Haruta.
Thatch can’t help but snicker. “I may have no idea what’s going on right now, but whatever it is, I’m definitely in.”
“Excellent!” Fossa practically chirps. “How opposed are you to espionage?”
oOoOo
“Fossa.”
“Yes, Thatch?”
“Do you actually know what espionage means?”
“Nope.”
Thatch sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Lovely. Well, to put it shortly, it’s not this. ”
“Oh.” Fossa tilts his head. “Well, I want to see where this is going either way, so…”
“Yes, fine, we’ll stay and watch, but for future reference this is very much not espionage.”
What ‘this’ is would be a very difficult question to answer, had Thatch not been one of the people who helped to concoct this cockamamie plan. The plan which entailed Marco and Haruta (among other people) waylaying Ace as he went about his day. The plan which included a variety of questions and schemes and desperate attempts to get Ace to reveal his sordid past. The plan which did not happen to have any mention of just asking Ace outright about how he grew up… because according to Jozu, the last time he’d asked Ace about how he grew up, Ace had lied (and badly, at that) and come up with some completely unbelievable story about fighting ginormous killer tigers and bears and crocodiles on an island in East Blue. Those three species didn’t even have the same ecosystem, and they definitely wouldn’t be in the same forest, not even if an ecosystem to fit them all in had miraculously come into being in seas-cursed East Blue, of all places.
Needless to say, Thatch certainly wanted answers, but he was starting to wonder if there was perhaps a better way to get them.
“And you’re sure you grew up in East Blue? Not, say, some island on the Grand Line?” Haruta had asked that morning on deck, only to be disappointed when Ace confirmed that yes, he was very much from East Blue and he was a little confused as to why people always seemed to think otherwise. Haruta had walked away dejectedly after that, leaving only a baffled Ace in their wake.
“So where exactly did you learn to pickpocket?” Marco asked during lunch a few hours ago, only to hear that not only did Ace hone his skills through years of frequenting the streets, but he had been a serial dine-and-dasher as a kid in some place called ‘High Town’ – and that he could still get money out of anyone’s pocket if he really wanted… which he then demonstrated by tossing Marco’s wallet up in the air like a trophy a few seconds later. Ace had walked away snickering after that one, though Thatch had been surprised to see a hint of sadness in his eyes during the conversation. He’d said he used to dine-and-dash with his brother – maybe he missed him?
“Hey, Ace, were you ever in the Marines?” Fossa himself asked at dinner that evening, only to be shot down with a visceral measure of disgust as Ace vehemently denied ever being in the Marines, throwing in a large measure of very creative swears to sink his point in, not to mention colorful threats to anyone who ever thought they could force him into joining. It was a very well-known fact that it was impossible to force Ace into anything he didn’t want to do, and apparently he had felt the need to remind them of that fact.
“Ace, where did you live when you were a kid?” Jozu (who had been recruited to their cause along the way via Haruta’s incessant nagging) asked in the evening while they were sitting by Oyaji, only to hear that Ace had grown up in a treehouse he’d built himself… on a mountainside. He had apparently lived there mostly alone except for his little brother, but there had barely been any adult supervision – which actually explained a lot of things about Ace, if Thatch was being honest.
And finally, Thatch himself had eventually been coerced into asking, “What was your little brother like when he was a baby, Ace?” in the hopes of finding some insight as to who in the seas had raised their hellion of a youngest brother, only to be informed sheepishly that Luffy and Ace hadn’t actually met until Luffy was six and Ace was nine, but Ace had been shown most of his little brother’s baby pictures by a barmaid, and she had told him plenty of stories about how cute and silly Luffy was as a baby.
So, in the end, Thatch is right: this has left them with more questions than they have answers. And at the rate they’re going, nobody is ever going to figure out what Ace’s deal is – not even Haruta.
oOoOo
“What is his deal?!” Haruta wails, practically draping themself over Thatch as the taller man attempts to stir the soup simmering on the stove in a ginormous cast-iron pot. “I’m never gonna unlock all of Ace’s mysterious secrets! I wanna know, Thatch!”
Thatch sighs, setting down the spoon and putting the lid on the pot. “Haruta, after the disaster of yesterday’s attempts to answer that question, I think it’s safe to assume that we’re never going to get the answers to those questions.”
“But why?! He grew up in a treehouse he built himself, apparently robbed people in a fancy neighbourhood, wasn’t in the Marines but still knows their old-time slang, didn’t meet his brother ‘til he was six and Ace was nine, and he learned to play cards from bandits?! How is all of that true?!”
“Don’t forget that he’s from East Blue and claims to have fought ginormous tigers, bears, and crocodiles on a daily basis,” Thatch adds. “And I’m inclined to believe that he really has eaten crocodile before, because he described the taste in perfect detail. I would know.”
“Have you eaten crocodile before?”
“...maybe.”
“And you didn’t tell me? Thatch!”
“You weren’t there and I knew you’d be jealous! I was gonna make it for you someday!”
“You are begrudgingly forgiven. But you’d better watch your back when you go to bed tonight, or you might wake up with a painted face.”
“I’ll sleep with one eye open.”
“Then I’ll paint your eye, too!”
“ What are you two doing?” Izou says exasperatedly, pushing open the door to the kitchen. “Marco says that Haruta is not to be left in the kitchen without supervision, so I came to supervise, but now I have some questions. Why are we painting Thatch’s eyes?”
“We’re only painting one eye,” Haruta sniffs, “and he ate crocodile without me!”
Izou blinks. “...very well. I won’t ask for an explanation.”
“Best not to,” Thatch says, voice weary. “Izou, do you know what Ace’s deal is?”
“I may have asked Ace about it,” Izou muses, gesturing with his fan. “But honestly, his explanation got interrupted and with only the first half, I was left with more questions than answers.”
“Well, that’s not very helpful.”
“Gee, you think?” Haruta grimaces. “We need to bring in the big guns here, fellas. We need to enlist Oyaji.”
But unfortunately for their enlistment plans, when they leave the kitchen to bring the soup out, Oyaji is being occupied. With Ace. The one person they don’t want to overhear their scheming. Thatch immediately tries to backtrack, pulling at Haruta’s arm and trying to head back into the kitchen before it’s too late, but Ace has already seen them.
“Oh, there you are!” Their youngest brother calls, sliding off of Oyaji’s leg to run up and greet them. “We were wondering where you’d gotten to, you promised Marco and I that you’d join us when we went out on the next island, remember?”
Izou, as usual, manages to be the most collected, not to mention the first to recover his wits enough to respond. “Of course. I didn’t realize the next island was so close, though, did you?” He turns to Haruta, who blanches.
“Uh… no?” They shrug. “Nope, no idea. I should, uh, pay better attention? I guess?”
Ace cocks his head, giving them all a weird look, but apparently decides not to ask. “Well, anyways, we should be there in an hour or two. I think this island has some bandits and stuff, so I’m gonna see if I can find a metal pipe.”
He’s gone in an instant, leaving behind three siblings that are far more baffled than when he first ran up.
Thatch sighs deeply, running a hand down his face. “We’re never gonna understand that kid, are we?”
“No,” Izou groans. “No, we are not.”