Aria's Pov
The Isha Isha no Mi was supposed to make my life easier. Key word: supposed.
"Wish me to Ace!" I said with full conviction, arms outstretched like I was about to get teleported straight into freckled paradise.
Nothing. Not even a spark.
"Fine. Wish me to the last place Ace was!" Still nothing.
I narrowed my eyes. "Wish me to his big… tattoo." And still, the fruit didn't even twitch.
Turns out my so-called miracle Devil Fruit had a very annoying clause buried in the fine print: locations only. I could wish myself to any island, any ship, any place in the One Piece world—but not a person.
So, new plan. I had to go on a scavenger hunt across the seas, hitting every place I remembered Ace had been before Blackbeard clocked him. Easy, right?
Hah.
I could search anywhere, but there was exactly one place I refused to try: the Moby Dick. Whitebeard's ship. Absolutely not. I really hope he wasn't there. If he was, I might just give up. Imagine me popping into existence on that deck, blinking at an army of pirates, and stammering out: "Hey, can I borrow Ace for a couple of days? I swear I'll return him… slightly hydrated?" Yeah, no. Hard pass.
Instead, I started hopping around the islands like some lovesick travel blogger.
I'd wish myself somewhere, march up to the locals, and start asking questions. "Have you seen a tall guy? Freckles? Wears a giant orange hat? Shirt allergy? Big tattoo on his back?"
Cue the looks. Oh, the looks. A market lady once gave me a side-eye so sharp it nearly sliced my self-esteem in half. Another guy muttered something about fetish weirdos under his breath. And a third person asked if I was describing a wanted poster kink. Which—maybe, but still rude.
I didn't dare say his name out loud. Too risky. Pirates and bounty hunters had ears everywhere, and the last thing I needed was to make my life harder. So I danced around it with vague descriptions, like I was on some game show called Guess That Pirate.
And weirdly enough, it worked. Sometimes.
"Oh yeah," a bartender said in one town. "Someone like that stopped by. Ate enough food for five men, then vanished."
Another fisherman swore he saw Ace helping fix a busted fishing boat. A street vendor swore he saw flames on the horizon. Each time, my heart leapt. Each time, I arrived too late.
Weeks passed like that. Hopping, asking, missing him by hours. Until finally, I hit jackpot
That jackpot was Loguetown.
Canon never said Ace set foot here, but canon wasn't exactly a GPS, and I was running out of leads. Loguetown was a busy port on the edge of the grand line, full of taverns and trouble—two things Ace had a knack for orbiting. It was worth a shot.
So I wished myself straight into the heart of the town, dusted myself off, and made a beeline for the loudest tavern I could find.
The air inside was thick with booze, smoke, and regret. A piano banged away in the corner, half-in-tune, while pirates shouted over each other. Perfect. If gossip lived anywhere, it lived here.
I sidled up to the bar, squeezed between two drunk guys, and leaned in like I owned the place.
"Hey," I said casually. "Any of you seen a guy—freckles, big orange hat, no sense of shirts, tattoo across his back?"
The silence that followed was not casual.
Every head in earshot turned.
Well. Shit.
A scarred man with too many teeth leaned in, voice low. "You askin' about Fire Fist Ace?"
My brain screamed: DENY. LIE. SAY YOU MEANT SOMEONE ELSE.
My mouth, traitorous as always, smiled awkwardly and said, "Maybe. Who's asking?"
The man's grin widened. Bad sign. Chairs scraped as his buddies stood up. A few more patrons slunk closer, forming a loose circle around me.
"Looks like we got ourselves a nosey little stray," one said. "A bounty hunter or Marine? You look weak though."
I held up my hands, heart thudding. "Careful now. I'm actually… really dangerous. You don't want this smoke."
They laughed. Full-on belly laughs.
"Dangerous, huh?" Scar-Face sneered. He pulled a knife from his belt, spinning it lazily. "You don't look dangerous. You look lost."
I tried again, desperation kicking in. "Listen, you really don't want to mess with me. I've got… powers. Scary ones. You don't even know."
"Oh yeah? Show us."
My bluff was officially called. My stomach dropped straight into my shoes.
I could've wished myself out, sure—but panic froze me in place. My back hit the bar. Knuckles cracked. The knife flashed. I was so screwed.
And then—
Flames.
The knife in Scar-Face's hand melted into a puddle of slag. Another man yelped as fire danced up his sleeve, flaring around. The air grew hotter, brighter, until the group gasped and stumbled back.
From the haze, a figure stepped forward.
Orange hat. Open vest. Freckles. Lazy grin.
Ace.
My brain short-circuited.
"Picking on someone who doesn't even look like she can throw a punch," he said calmly, fire curling around his fingers. "That's pretty low."
The men bolted like rats, scrambling for the door, leaving me pinned in place with my heart hammering so hard it might've cracked my ribs.
Ace turned, glanced at me, and gave the tiniest of nods, like I was just some random bystander he happened to save.
Meanwhile, I had a manic look on my face. Inside, I was practically vibrating.
Oh my god, it's him. He's real. He's here. He's shirtless. He saved me. FATE WANTS THIS.
I probably looked like a lunatic, staring at him with wide eyes and barely contained drool.
Ace just scratched the back of his neck and muttered, "You okay?"
Oh, I was better than okay. I was about to make the worst, best decision of my life.
I've decided that if I wait till I write the full arc before I update, I'll only be updating every few days so I'll just update any I've written.
Also, someone asked yesterday and I realized I totally forgot to add lgbtq+ to my tags. I don't know to change it since it messes up with my visibility but Aria will sleep with more one piece women. If you're not comfortable with reading that, let me know so I can put warnings in the chapters.
Thanks for reading!