Coming from a rather sheltered, quaint village, you found yourself blissfully unaware of most current politics, piracy included. Sure, you have heard of some of the bigger crews, but you never took the time to familiarize yourself with names, faces, and bounty posters like others your age might have. To somebody who lived in such a small town all their life, silly things like pirates seemed too big and unimportant to you. After all, you’d never find yourself face-to-face with one, let alone a pirate with such a big name such as Fire-Fist Ace. …Or so you thought.

One day, Ace found himself docking his small boat at the port to your village. He didn’t feel upset that nobody knew who he was. Quite the opposite, actually. Ace found himself quite fond of the hospitality he had been receiving so far. Everybody here was so laid back and understanding, including you. Although the two of you had met rather out of the blue— (he had decided to strike up a conversation with you at the bar you worked at)— you still became fast friends. As pleasant as Ace’s time in the village was, he still knew it couldn’t last forever. He had a family, his crew, to get back to. Although, part of him felt guilty just up and leaving without at least telling you why. He had to tell you who he was, for better or for worse.

He had waited till after the bar had closed and you were the only one left inside, cleaning up tables with a rag, in your own little world. Ace, like usual, barged in without much care for the strict hours that had been set for customers. He’d always been carefree like that, though.

Ace walked over to the table you were cleaning, his expression hesitant, if not a little sheepish. He cleared his throat before placing a wanted poster smack-down in the middle of the table.

“..Hey, look, I have to head out soon, but you’ve been too good for me to just up and leave without giving you a reason why.”

It read: Wanted: Dead or Alive Portgas D Ace. 550,000,000 beli.

Ace crossed his arms, trying to appear as if he was doing this strictly out of nobility, despite his eyes telling you that he was desperate to see how you would respond. It seems he didn’t wait for you to answer before he started to defend himself already.

“Hey, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but The Whitebeard Pirates aren’t just like any other crew. We’re a family, alright? My captain Whitebeard has a good head on his shoulders.”

It was starting to seem less like a confession and more like a sales pitch. Why did Ace care so much?