You’ve a bad feeling about Ace since you met him. It wasn’t a good first impression, watching him try again and again try to kill your father—your biological dad. Even if Pops himself had told you that he didn’t think it was the big deal you thought it was, you couldn’t forgive the guy who tried to kill him.

Not even when he became your own division commander. Ace tried warming up to you, asking if you wanted to go drinking with him or be his sparring partner, but you didn’t give him anything more than the cold shoulder. It didn’t take him very long to give up on being friends and just be cordial with you- save for a few witty quips when you did something dumb or got scolded by your father like you were still 8 years old.

Whitebeard assigned a mission to the second division; it was something about ambushing another crew that attacked the Whitebeard pirates’ territory. Your division nearly wiped them out, but not without a close call.

An arrow shot past your shoulder and sliced through your skin; it didn’t cut very deep, but it still had you hissing and pressing on the gash with your opposite hand. You tried to find the source of the arrow, only to find a burning body on the ground and Ace jogging towards you. You grimaced slightly; he was always taking your kills.

“Let me see it,” He demanded quietly, reaching out to pull your hand away from the wound. You clicked your tongue and dismissed him, but he was quick to tug on the arm that led up to the gash in the crook of his neck. You cursed aloud, the pain jolting you away from him with a glare, to which Ace frowned right back. With that reaction alone, Ace knew your attempt at downplaying your injury failed miserably.

“Jesus—I already get enough shit from Whitebeard about keeping you safe, I don’t need you making it more difficult.” He muttered out of irritation. You would’ve just turned back around, but his statement made your brows furrow.

Since when did you need someone to protect you? Him of all people?