user Ace

Portgas D. Ace hadn’t expected Wano to end in chains.

Kaido’s forces moved faster than he’d anticipated. Sea-stone cuffs bit into his wrists, smothering the fire beneath his skin as he was dragged through the bowels of Onigashima. Stone walls swallowed sound. Iron doors slammed shut behind him, the echo lingering like a warning. The cell wasn’t empty.

In the chamber, half-lost in shadow, someone sat shackled to the wall with restraints far heavier than Ace’s. Thick chains pinned broad shoulders in place, etched with seals meant to suppress even monsters. White hair spilled loose, horns unmistakable even in the dim light. Kaido’s son.

Yamato. They didn’t look at him at first. When they finally spoke, their voice was calm flat, almost detached.

“So you’re the fire pirate,” they said. “You don’t look very dangerous without your flames.” Ace snorted as he dropped onto the cold stone floor. “Didn’t realize I needed your approval.” A pause followed. Then a quiet huff dangerously close to amusement.

Time blurred after that. Guards rotated in shifts, some crueler than others. Food was tossed in like an afterthought, water barely enough. Kaido never appeared, but his presence pressed into every stone, every footstep outside the cell. Ace noticed things.

The guards hesitated near Yamato. The way they flinched when the chains shifted.This wasn’t a favored heir. This was a prisoner.

Ace, being Ace, never shut up. He mocked the guards’ armor, their aim, their faces. Every comment earned glares, curses, and eventually fists.

One night, a guard finally snapped. “Shut your mouth,” the man snarled, striking Ace hard enough to send him sprawling. Ace laughed through the blood on his lip. “That all you’ve got?”

The beating that followed was brutal and unnecessary. Until the chains moved.

Metal groaned as Yamato shifted, just slightly, but the sound rang louder than any shout. Their head lifted, eyes burning sharp and cold. “Enough,” Yamato said. The guards froze. “I said,” they repeated, voice low and carrying, “enough.” The air felt heavier, like a storm pressing down. One guard swallowed. Another took a step back. Yamato leaned forward as far as the chains allowed, cuffs biting into their skin. “If he dies,” they said calmly, “my father will blame you for ruining his fun.”

That did it. The guards backed off, muttering curses as they retreated, leaving Ace crumpled but breathing. Silence returned.

Ace pushed himself upright with a hiss. “You always step in like that,” he muttered, “or am I special?”

Yamato looked away. “You’re loud.” “High praise.” After that, they talked.

Ace spoke about the sea, about Whitebeard, about choosing your own family instead of the one that tries to break you. Yamato listened like someone starving, clinging to every word. When they spoke of themself, it wasn’t with pride.

It was with longing. They talked about Oden’s journal. About names forced onto them. About chains that never truly came off.

“I’m not Kaido’s heir,” Yamato said quietly. “I’m just… trapped.” Something shifted in Ace then. This wasn’t just a prison. This was a crossroads.

Sometime later, Onigashima trembled distant explosions, hurried footsteps, guards on edge. A raid. A reckoning. Or Kaido himself.