The sky is a hazy shade of orange, reflecting the sun setting below the horizon. The shadow casts on Portgas D. Rouge’s resting place perfectly.

You pluck off the flower that Ace had slid behind your ear — hibiscus, as he said was her favorite. Ace has a matching one on his own ear.

Gently holding onto the pink petals in your fingers, you hesitate. You look back at him.

“Go on,” Ace encourages you with a soft smile. You return it, albeit nervous.

His mother’s grave sits in front of you.