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Ace's heart had never truly known peace, but after Sabo’s death, it felt as though the last piece of his fragile world had shattered beyond repair. Sabo wasn’t just a brother—he was a lifeline. The one person, aside from Luffy, who had truly understood Ace in a way no one else could. They hadn’t been bound by blood, but by something deeper—a shared longing for freedom. Together, they had whispered about forging their own paths, about breaking free from the chains of fate and escaping the looming shadows of their bloodlines. For Ace, Sabo represented hope—a bright, unwavering light in a world that felt overwhelmingly dark. But with Sabo gone, that light was snuffed out, leaving Ace adrift, swallowed by the cold emptiness of his grief.
It had been a senseless death, a cruel twist of fate that Ace couldn’t comprehend. Sabo had been their partner in crime, their dreamer of dreams, the one who always believed they could make something of themselves, no matter their pasts. He was the glue that held them together, the voice that encouraged them when the world seemed too vast and terrifying. Without Sabo, their shared dreams of freedom and adventure felt hollow, unreachable. Ace had tried to keep those dreams alive in his heart, but with every day that passed, the pain festered like an open wound, and the dreams felt more like distant memories.
Now, standing at the edge of a cliff, Ace felt that wound throb with fresh intensity. The sea below crashed violently against the jagged rocks, its restless fury a reflection of the storm raging inside him. He was only ten years old, but the weight of the world seemed to press down on him with unbearable force. He squeezed his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, the sharp pain a desperate attempt to ground himself—to distract from the torment gnawing at his soul.
The world was vast, and in its vastness, Ace felt impossibly small. Smaller still under the crushing legacy of his father, the man whose name had haunted Ace’s entire existence, even before he’d drawn his first breath. Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King. It was a title that meant nothing to Ace but pain and bitterness. Roger had lived and died a legend, but all he had left behind was a boy drowning in the wake of his father’s name.
Ace didn’t want to be Roger’s son. He didn’t want the whispers, the judgment, the looks of fear and awe that followed him when people learned the truth of his lineage. He hadn’t asked for this life, for the burden of being the Pirate King’s heir. And yet, the world had shackled him to that legacy, forced him to carry the weight of a man he had never known.
He hated Roger for it. Hated him for dying before Ace was even born. Hated him for abandoning his mother, for leaving her to raise a child with a cursed name. He hated him for leaving behind a legacy that felt more like a chain than a gift, a legacy that had stolen his freedom before he’d ever had a chance to grasp it. Roger had died, but Ace was the one forced to live with the consequences. The whispers, the hunts, the constant need to hide away just to survive.
And now, without Sabo, that legacy felt even more unbearable. Sabo had been the one who made Ace believe he could escape it, that he could make a name for himself separate from the Pirate King’s shadow. Together, they had dreamed of a life beyond their bloodlines, of becoming something more than just the sons of infamous men. But Sabo was gone, and with him, the hope that Ace might one day be free.
His gaze drifted to the edge of the cliff, to the swirling, tumultuous waters below. What if he jumped? What if the sea swallowed him whole? Would it finally free him from his father’s shadow? From the pain of losing Sabo? Would it break the chains that bound him to a fate he never wanted?
But it wasn’t just Roger’s name that weighed him down now. It was the fear—deep, gnawing fear—that, no matter how much he hated his father, he might still be like him. What if the blood in his veins was stronger than the choices he wanted to make? What if he was destined to follow in Roger’s footsteps, to become the very thing he despised?
Beside him, Luffy stood, trembling, his wide eyes red and puffy from crying. Luffy didn’t understand the weight Ace carried, not fully. He knew who Roger was, but to Luffy, it didn’t matter. Luffy’s grief was simpler, more direct—he was mourning Sabo, and that loss consumed him in a way Ace envied. Luffy didn’t have to contend with legacies or curses or the fear of becoming someone he hated. To Luffy, Sabo was just gone, and the emptiness left behind was a pain that didn’t need to be complicated.
Luffy’s small, sticky hand gripped Ace’s, seeking comfort, and Ace looked down at their joined hands. The innocence of Luffy’s touch, the pure, unwavering belief that Ace was still here, still someone worth holding on to, grounded Ace in a way nothing else could. Luffy had no idea of the storm raging inside his older brother—of the darkness, the anger, the suffocating weight of expectations that threatened to drown him. And yet, Luffy believed in him. He always had, with a faith so pure and unwavering that it hurt Ace to think about it.
And maybe, in some small way, Luffy was the last connection Ace had to Sabo. They had been brothers, the three of them, bound not by blood but by something far deeper. With Sabo gone, it felt as if the thread that held them together was fraying. But Luffy’s hand, fragile and trembling, was the one thing keeping Ace tethered to this world, to the life they had built together. Ace couldn’t jump. Not because of himself, but because of Luffy. He had already lost one brother—he couldn’t take away another.
The sea stretched out before them, vast and unforgiving, its roar echoing the silence between the two brothers. Ace squeezed Luffy’s hand tighter, trying to offer comfort, even as he clung to that connection for his own sake. He needed Luffy more than Luffy would ever know. He needed someone to believe in him because, right now, Ace couldn’t believe in himself.
“I promise, I’ll never die,” Ace whispered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He wanted to believe them, wanted to believe that he could outrun the fate that had been handed to him. That he could be something more than just the son of Gol D. Roger. But deep down, he knew the truth. No matter how far he ran, his father’s shadow would always follow him. He couldn’t escape it.
Luffy, of course, believed him. He looked up at Ace with wide, tear-filled eyes, nodding as if the words were a promise he could hold on to forever. That blind trust, that unshakable faith—it suffocated Ace even as it kept him from stepping off the cliff. Because Luffy saw something in him that Ace couldn’t see in himself. And even though Ace wanted to disappear into the sea, to end the pain and confusion and escape the burden of his father’s name, he couldn’t do it. Not today.
Not with Luffy holding his hand.
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Years had passed since that fateful day when Ace stood on the edge of the cliff, his hand tightly gripping Luffy's, both of them drowning in grief for Sabo. Now, the same spot felt eerily familiar yet profoundly different. The sea below was just as wild, crashing against the jagged rocks with relentless fury, but it was Ace’s mind that churned with the violent storm, deeper and darker than before. This cliff, once a place where he had teetered on the edge of despair as a child, now carried the weight of years of unresolved anguish.
Sabo’s death had fractured something inside Ace that he could never fully mend. Back then, standing on that cliff with Luffy, the pain had been raw, but Sabo’s presence still lingered in his heart—a distant warmth that reminded him of their shared dreams, their bond, their brotherhood. But now, that warmth was gone, replaced by an unbearable coldness that gnawed at him from the inside. The safety net Sabo had once been, the voice that had grounded him when he was on the brink, was gone. And Ace, despite all his strength, felt lost without it.
It was as if Sabo’s death had severed the last tether that connected Ace to the fragile hope that he could be more than his father’s son. Without Sabo’s belief in him, Ace felt the fury toward Gol D. Roger burn hotter than ever before. It was no longer a simmering resentment—it was a wildfire consuming every part of him. And the more he fought to escape his father’s shadow, the more suffocated he felt by it.
Ace clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. He could still feel the sting of the whispered judgments, the weight of Roger’s name suffocating him at every turn. Pirate King's son, the heir to a monster's throne—he’d been running from those labels his entire life, but no matter how far he went, they always found him. If Roger hadn’t been who he was, Ace could’ve had a normal life. Maybe Sabo would still be alive, and maybe Ace wouldn’t feel this constant, gnawing hatred that had consumed him.
He had spent so long despising his father for abandoning him, for leaving him with a cursed legacy that was impossible to outrun. If Roger had been anyone else, Ace could have been free. But the world had never let him forget. The world demanded that he live under the Pirate King’s shadow, and no matter how much he fought, Ace feared he would never be able to prove that he was more than his bloodline.
Standing there, staring out at the endless horizon, Ace let out a breath, and for a moment, the weight of it all felt like too much. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry in years—not since Sabo died. He had learned early that tears didn’t bring anyone back. Crying didn’t change the past. It didn’t take away the pain or the loss. But today, standing in the same place he had once considered letting the sea claim him, the tears stung at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them away, gritting his teeth as the emotions clawed at him.
“I hate you,” Ace whispered, his voice barely audible against the howl of the wind. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Roger or to himself—both, maybe. His hatred for Roger was an ever-present force, but beneath that loomed an even greater fear. The fear that, despite all his rage, he might be more like his father than he wanted to admit. That no matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he tried to forge his own path, the blood of Gol D. Roger coursing through his veins would shape him into something he despised.
The weight of Sabo’s death, the unresolved fury toward his father, and his constant struggle to define himself beyond Roger’s shadow—it all coalesced into a suffocating burden. He had tried to be strong, to push through the grief and anger, but now, more than ever, it felt like he was drowning under the weight of his own emotions.
Whitebeard had given him a home, a place to belong, and a sense of family that he had never known. The crew loved him, supported him, and called him "brother." But even among them, that gnawing doubt never left him. Could he ever truly escape his father’s legacy? Or was he destined to be nothing more than Gol D. Roger’s son, a living reminder of the Pirate King’s shadow?
Sabo had always told Ace that he could be more, that his father’s name didn’t define him. Sabo had believed in him so fiercely, with a certainty that Ace had never had in himself. But now, without Sabo’s unwavering faith, Ace wasn’t sure who he was anymore. His brother’s absence left a void that even the warmth of Whitebeard’s family couldn’t fill.
Ace’s fists unclenched, his gaze drawn to the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a distant blur. His mind drifted back to Luffy, the one constant that had kept him from letting go all those years ago. Luffy, who had always believed in him with the same blind faith Sabo had. Luffy, who had already lost one brother and couldn’t bear to lose another. Luffy, whose unshakable trust was sometimes the only thing keeping Ace from stepping off the edge.
He thought about that promise he had made to Luffy all those years ago: “I’ll never die.” He had said it with such conviction, wanting so desperately to believe that he could be something more than a tragedy waiting to happen. But now, standing on this cliff again, Ace felt the fragility of that promise weigh on him. He had come so close to death so many times, and each time, he wondered if it would be his last. But he couldn’t die—not yet. Not while Luffy still needed him. Not while his crew still looked to him as their brother.
The anger toward Roger still burned inside him, as fierce as ever, but Ace knew he couldn’t let it consume him—not completely. Because as much as he hated his father, as much as he doubted himself, there was still a part of him, buried deep beneath the rage and grief, that wanted to believe in something more. That maybe, just maybe, he could be free—not just from Roger’s legacy, but from the pain that had shaped him for so long.
“I’ll never die,” Ace murmured again, this time with a quiet resolve. It wasn’t a boast or a promise, but a declaration of intent. He would keep fighting, keep moving forward, not because he was certain of his own strength, but because there were people who believed in him. Luffy, his crew, even the memory of Sabo. They were his reason to keep going, his anchor in the storm.
He wasn’t sure if he would ever escape Roger’s shadow, but for now, he would face it. He would fight against the weight of his father’s legacy, not just for himself, but for those who still believed in him. For Luffy. For his crew. For Sabo.
And maybe, one day, he would finally find the freedom he had been searching for all his life.