Chapter 11: Secrets of the hideout

"Hey, Ace," I said, glancing at him seriously as we made our way to the secret hideout. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and the faint rustling of leaves, but I paid it no heed. "What did Grandpa say to you yesterday? You know, when you were feeling down?"

Ace's smile wavered, and for a moment, something deeper flickered in his eyes. But then he shrugged, his usual cocky demeanour returning. "He told me… nothing much, I guess," he answered, his voice almost too casual.

It wasn't the response I expected. Ever since Grandpa had spent the day with him, Ace had seemed different. Lighter, maybe. Less weighed down by whatever had been eating at him before. His answer, though, felt… hollow, like he was avoiding the truth. I could tell something important had happened, but I didn't push him. Not yet.

---

Flashback: The Incident Before They Turned Six

The day before their sixth birthday, Ace went into town again. It wasn't unusual—he had been making these trips more and more frequently, asking the townsfolk the same question. Repeatedly. The question that started every fight.

"Can you tell me about Gold Roger?"

He always asked, even though he already knew the answer. People despised hearing that name. Hated him for saying it. And every time it was mentioned, a rain of ridiculing and sickening words would rain down on not only Roger's name but on everyone slightly connected to him.

The young boy could never figure out why he and his brother were hated so much and why the world deemed that hate as just and deserved. They never did any harm to those people before but indirectly, they all turned hatred and spite in their direction even if unknowingly.

'Was my father really so bad, that it justifies killing me and my brother simply for being born?' His young mind was filled with questions that were impossible to answer correctly.

This time, in a small, dimly lit pub on the outskirts of a nearby town, Ace found himself facing someone particularly unpleasant. The man towered over him, close to two meters tall, with a massive build, spiked black hair, and a long scar running down the side of his face. He looked like he could crush Ace with one hand.

The man scowled, slamming his mug down hard enough that the table rattled. "Roger?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Don't say disgusting names like that, brat. You'll spoil my beer. Get lost."

Ace didn't back down. He never did. He glared right back at the man, his small fists clenched tightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?" the man growled, his annoyance flaring. And then, in an instant, Ace's fist shot forward, faster than the man could react. It connected with a sickening thud, sending the hulking brute crashing out of his chair.

The bar erupted into chaos. Chairs overturned, glasses shattered, and before long, another fight broke out. Ace held his own as best he could, but the man's size and strength quickly overwhelmed him. By the time the fight was over, Ace had taken more than his fair share of hits. Scratches and bruises covered his face and arms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what was brewing inside him.

Hours later, Ace sat alone near a cliff overlooking the sea. His legs hung over the edge, swinging idly as the wind whipped through his hair. He stared out at the endless expanse of water, brooding and silent, his usual fire subdued.

That's when Garp found him.

"Bwahahaha! Why are you looking so beat down?" Garp's laughter rang through the air, loud and obnoxious as always. Ace didn't even flinch. He just kept staring at the ocean, ignoring his grandfather's booming presence.

Garp sat down beside him on a large, flat stone. For once, he didn't seem to mind that Ace wasn't responding. He let the silence hang between them for a few moments before speaking again.

"Hey, Ace. Looks like you've been causing a lot of trouble lately."

Ace remained quiet for a moment longer before he finally spoke. His voice was low, almost hesitant. "Gramps… you have another grandson, right? Does he seem happy to you?"

He asked, his voice lacking its usual strength. There was something fragile in the way he said it, something Garp wasn't used to hearing from the usually brash and headstrong boy.

Garp blinked, not expecting for Luffy to be mentioned. "Oh, you mean Luffy? I'm raising him well." He grinned, but Ace didn't share in his amusement.

He stared at the waves crashing against the cliffs below, as if searching for something in their endless rhythm. Finally, he spoke again, his voice trembling slightly.

"Gramps… was it good that I was born?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and cruel, far too cruel for a six-year-old to be asking. Garp was speechless for a moment, the weight of Ace's words taking him by surprise. For all his strength, all his experience, he wasn't prepared for this.

Garp let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his head as he searched for the right thing to say. "Well," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft. A certain feeling nagged at the back of his mind. Telling him how good it is, is only Garp's opinion and would do no justice to this small child's complexity of thoughts. "As long as you're alive, you'll figure it out eventually."

Ace didn't respond, but Garp could see the tension in his small frame ease just a little.

"You know… your old man… he wasn't a perfect guy," Garp continued, scratching his chin. "But he was strong. He had a will that couldn't be broken. A will that you and your brother undoubtedly inherited. One day, when you find out what you really want from life, and find people to share it with, you might realize the answer was always right in front of you."

Ace's gaze stayed on the horizon, but Garp could tell his words had reached him, so he continued talking, in hopes of clearing some of what clouded Ace's mind.

"Personally, I am surprised you cared about the world's opinion or state. Your father didn't while alive, and your brother does even less now that he is dead." Ace's ears perked up for a second when the old man mentioned his brother.

"Jackson does?" He finally turned around, looking Garp straight in his eyes as the later continued his little rant.

"Of course! That brat really said: 'People's opinions are like assholes. Everyone's got one, but most of the time, only shit comes out. If this world doesn't want my brother and me, I will gladly turn it upside down however many times it takes until Ace can live a life as free as he always wanted!' If only that rascal didn't use so many bad words…"

A flicker of his usual bright shine passed Ace's eyes as he stared intensely into Garp's. His mouth agape in the shape of a perfect circle slowly moved upwards, forming the first smile in possibly months, on the young boy's smile.

"Aha Ahahahaha! He really said something that stupid?" Ace laughed much to Garp's delight. "Hahahaha! What kind of idiot brother do I have. Really now, I guess he would be helpless without me. Quickly gramps, let's go back, it's getting cold!"

Garp watched his silhouette vanish into the forest with newfound vigor. In his opinion no child should have to ever question his very own right to exist. He wasn't sure how much this helped Ace on his path, but for now he would take this development as a good sign.

"Wait you brat! Do you think I forgot all the trouble you caused? Tonight, we are camping outside!" And so, he shouted, attempting to turn back things to how they would normally be.

"EHHH?! It's freezing cold!" Much to Ace's dismay, that is.

End of flashback.

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Present

We climbed the rocky terrain that led to our hideout, the sounds of the forest fading into the background as we focused on squeezing through the small gap between two massive boulders. Inside, the cave was dim and cool, with the familiar trappings of our secret base scattered around—stolen items, makeshift furniture, and our prized possessions.

But something felt different this time.

"Ace," I said, pausing in the middle of the cave, "do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ace frowned, glancing at me like I'd lost my mind.

I could hear them—voices. Faint but unmistakable, like whispers echoing off the ancient walls. It wasn't just my imagination. I could feel something pulsing beneath the surface, something connected to the strange markings that lined the walls of the cave.

Ignoring Ace's puzzled look, I approached the markings, my curiosity piqued. They had always been there, but today... they felt alive. Without thinking, I began to repeat the strange chant I heard in my mind. One by one, the symbols started glowing, their light casting eerie purple shadows across the room.

Suddenly, the cave trembled, and the walls began to shift, expanding the space. A stone pedestal rose from the ground in the centre of the room, surrounded by five candles burning with a strange purple flame.

And there, sitting on the pedestal, was something that made my heart skip a beat.

"A devil fruit?" I gasped.

(AN: Paused the rewriting for some time because I fell ill. This chapter is probably the first major change I planned for the rewriting. What kind of fruit this is, who will get to eat it, and so on still remains to be written, so stay tuned for the next chapters!)