The trees rustled gently as Naru walked along the forest path, moonlight filtering through the canopy in fractured silvery beams. It did not take her long to find him.
Ace sat hunched on a moss-covered boulder that had clearly been sitting in that spot for centuries. The dense underbrush surrounding him offered partial shelter, as if nature itself were trying to hide him away from the world. His coat hung loosely over his shoulders, not worn but simply draped, like a weight he could not quite bring himself to remove or hold onto. His hands rested limp on his knees, fingers slack and unmoving, the posture of someone who had exhausted every ounce of purpose.
"You are sulking," Naru said, her voice flat and matter-of-fact as she stepped into the moonlit clearing.
"I am thinking," Ace answered without lifting his gaze.
"In your case, those two things often blend together," she replied with a dry tone, folding her arms across her chest. Her posture was relaxed, though her eyes remained keen, analyzing every detail of his body language.
As she raised a hand, Ace flinched instinctively, shoulders tensing as though bracing for the familiar sting of a reprimanding smack.
Instead, he felt a warm, gentle hand settle atop his head.
His breath caught.
Naru ruffled his already messy hair, just like she used to when they were younger.
"I'm just glad you're safe," she said with a soft smile.
That smile, he remembered it vividly. The one she always gave him when they were kids. A smile that soothed. A smile that comforted.
Emotion surged so violently that his throat tightened. His vision blurred, and before he could stop himself, a pitiful sniffle escaped him. His handsome features twisted into something messy, vulnerable, and childlike.
Naru's eyes softened the moment she caught sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the exhaustion etched into every muscle of his face. She wondered how long he had been carrying all this suffering alone.
Without another word, she slipped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm embrace.
Ace collapsed into her hold almost instantly, wrapping his arms around her in return with a desperate strength. His shoulders shook as silent sobs broke free, and he buried his face into her shoulder like a man drowning who had finally reached a lifeline. Naru rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles, her warmth radiating through him with quiet understanding.
Not once since Shanks had rescued them had Ace shed a single tear. Even during the burials of his fallen brothers, he had grieved with clenched teeth and silent agony. But his eyes had remained dry, because deep in the core of his heart, Ace had convinced himself that he did not deserve the right to cry. Not after failing them.
Yet here, beneath the moonlit sky and within the peaceful sanctuary of the forest, Naru created a space where his grief was allowed to breathe.
"That's it," she whispered, her voice as soft as the night breeze. "Let it all out."
And so he cried. For minutes or maybe hours. Time blurred.
Eventually, the storm quieted. His breathing steadied, though his face was still wet, flushed, and streaked with lingering emotion. As embarrassment flooded him, Ace turned away abruptly, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, desperate to hide his swollen expression.
Naru stared at him with a mixture of affection and dry amusement.
'A little late to pretend you are dignified now,' she thought with a faint internal snort.
Once he had settled down, they sat side by side, letting the cool night air surround them. The scent of pine mingled with the crisp frost of the night, and the forest hummed quietly around them.
Ace finally raised his head, his eyes meeting hers with visible heaviness. "I lost them, Naru," he whispered, his voice cracking like brittle glass. "I lost Oyaji… and the others… I lost so many of them…"
"I know," she said softly.
"I thought I could protect everyone. I really believed I was strong enough. That if I faced Teach head-on, I could stop him and keep everyone safe. But I failed. I failed all of them."
"You weren't alone in that fight," Naru cut in, unfolding her arms. "You weren't the only one who stood your ground. Every one of them made the choice to fight. You're not the reason they're gone, Ace."
"But I lived," he whispered bitterly.
Silence settled between them again.
Finally, Naru spoke again. "So did Marco. So did Jozu. So did Izo. Many of your brothers are still alive. All of you breathing right now… that means their sacrifices carried weight."
Ace blinked, taken off guard. "You… you really think so?"
"I would not say it if I did not believe it." She reached over and punched his shoulder, not painfully but firmly enough to jolt him. "Besides, if you were dead right now, who would I scold? Luffy and Sabo are busy. That leaves only you."
Ace let out a humorless snort, dripping with bitterness and exhausted sarcasm. "Wonderful. I truly am blessed."
Naru chuckled softly.
"You know," she said, gazing up at the stars, "I once had someone in my life who was just like Whitebeard was to you.
Ace's brows lifted slightly in curiosity.
Naru's lips curved into a subtle, nostalgic smile. Under the pale wash of moonlight, the expression carried a quiet warmth tinged with melancholy, as if it belonged to an unspoken lifetime she had tucked away in her heart.
"He was a pervert," she announced suddenly, her smile turning into a laugh that came out lighthearted and unrestrained. "Introduced himself as the Super Pervert. I was twelve at the time."
Ace stared at her like she had just grown an extra head. "You let a pervert teach you when you were twelve? Have we met this person before?
"A pervert like him? Absolutely not. I would never let someone like that get anywhere near any of you," she replied without hesitation.
Ace raised an eyebrow. "But you did?"
"Well, this guy was a little different," Naru said with a knowing chuckle that hinted at stories that only she would know.
She continued, "Many years ago, I met a man who ended up teaching me everything I needed to survive. He taught me about life, about combat, and about philosophies that sounded so ridiculous I sometimes wondered if he came up with them while drunk. He always had some sort of wisdom to share, even if it was buried under layers of nonsense. And on top of all that, he wrote adult books and made me proofread them during our travels."
Ace's entire face froze in a horrified grimace. The thought of a perverted adult author following his twelve year old sister around, handing her manuscripts filled with questionable literature, made his mind shriek. A pervert who wrote adult material. Near his sister. His young older sister.
What sort of cursed teacher was that supposed to be? Poor Naru. Sweet, innocent Naru.
If Ace knew that this same "poor" sister later went on to write her own collection of scandalous books that sold like rare treasure maps in the black markets, he might have ascended straight out of his body in disbelief.
Completely ignoring the visible distress building on his face, Naru continued in a calm, conversational tone, "At first, I thought he was a hopeless case. And I was completely right. The old perv couldn't even cook a proper meal. He spied on women at hot springs like a daily routine, stole my money constantly, and ditched me the moment he spotted a pretty girl walked by. He even kicked me off a cliff once for training!"
Ace's eye twitched violently.
"We argued constantly back then," she admitted fondly. "But…"
She paused to inhale slowly, as if steadying her heart. Then she smiled, and her entire face brightened, luminous with genuine affection.
"I would not trade him for anything. Not even for the whole world."
Her grin widened into something unmistakable, something vibrant and unrestrained. It was the kind of smile carried by those who bore the Will of D within their souls. Radiant. Defiant. Limitless. For a brief moment, Ace saw Luffy in that expression. If Luffy had blue eyes and whisker marks, they could have been mirror images of one another.
"Why?" Ace asked quietly, unable to hide his curiosity.
"Because if Whitebeard was like a father to you," she said, voice trembling ever so slightly, "then this man was the same for me. Even more so than my actual father."
Ace could only stare at her, stunned. It was hard to reconcile the image she painted. The man she described sounded like a pure loser, yet he was apparently more important to her than the father who gave her life. It made no sense. And yet, knowing Naru, perhaps it did.
If Dragon ever learn of this, he would probably cry.
Naru continued.
"His name was Jiraiya," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "He died when I was fifteen. Went off on a suicide mission… and I never got to say goodbye."
The pain in her voice was raw, but she spoke with remarkable steadiness.
Ace opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. It finally struck him, harsh and cold, that despite being her brother for over two decades, he barely knew anything about her. He always suspected she had secrets, but he never pushed. And now he could see the consequences of that distance.
"They never recovered his body," she said faintly. "So I made him an empty grave. It was the only thing I could do. I never got to thank him for everything he did for me." Her voice wavered, and for just a fleeting moment, her eyes glistened with tears. She quickly blinked them away before they could fall. "But I never forgot him."
Her gaze lowered to her lap. She placed a hand over her heart, right where her strongest memories lived.
"Losing someone hurts in ways words can never fully describe," she murmured. "But pain is not eternal. It does not stay forever. If you hold their memory close… they live on within you. Right here, in the heart."
She closed her eyes briefly, letting the memory of that infuriating, brilliant, utterly impossible old sage wash through her.
God, she missed that idiot.
When she opened her eyes again, Ace was looking at her with a depth of emotion he rarely showed. His guilt had not vanished, but it had softened, tempered by new understanding.
"So, Ace," she said gently but firmly, "you must accept that Whitebeard is gone. He chose his end willingly. He gave his life so that you and the rest of the crew would continue living. He did not die so that you could dive into the same pit of darkness because of grief or rage. That is not honoring him. What honors him is living the life he fought to protect."
Her words struck him like a wave, heavy but true. He did not argue. He could not. She was right, and he knew it.
"I am not going to scold you about how recklessly you chased after Teach," she said plainly. "That is between you and your crew. I will not involve myself in that. But Ace…" She fixed him with a sharp, steady gaze, her blue eyes glinting with wisdom that went far beyond her age. "From now on, never hesitate to ask for my help. Do you understand me?"
Caught off guard by her stern gaze, Ace swallowed hard. "Y-Yeah. Got it."
Her expression softened, shifting into something between exasperation and fondness. "You are an adult now, Ace. Past twenty. So stop shutting your sister out and pretending you can shoulder everything alone. I don't want to see you lose yourself under the weight of pain you refuse to share."
"I… I get it," he whispered, sincerity clear in his voice.
"Good." She nodded approvingly. "We all walk our own paths. Even Luffy is out there following his own journey without us. But no matter how far apart we travel, we are still bound to one another. We will always be here for each other."
Ace's lips curved into a warm, genuine smile. "Yeah. I know."
His memories drifted back to that day. The war. The chaos. The fear. The overwhelming weight of knowing so many people had come to save him. That knowledge grounded him, steadied him, reminded him he was loved.
He was also secretly grateful that Shanks had arrived when he did. Yes, there had been losses that shattered him in ways words could not capture, but not all of the Whitebeard Pirates had died. That alone gave him the strength to breathe.
Their conversation flowed naturally after that. Ace began recounting the events of the past few months, describing the chaos, the relentless pursuit of Teach, and the recent battle that still simmered hot in his memory.
Then, suddenly, a vivid image sparked in his mind. A flash of white fur. Nine swaying tails.
"Oh!" he exclaimed in surprise.
Naru blinked. "What is it?"
"Is Kurama with you?"
Ah, Kurama. That name alone tugged Ace back through years of memories, all the way to the very first time Naru had sauntered home from one of her unexplained absences with a gigantic fox padding behind her like it was the most normal thing in the world. At the time, he, Luffy, and Sabo had stared at Kurama with wide eyes, assuming he was simply another oversized creature from the lawless forests they used to explore as kids. After all, monstrous animals were nothing new in their world.
And several years later, when they discovered that Kurama could not only speak, but also grow to a size rivaling the enormous Sea Beasts and sprout nine majestic tails like some ancient deity, the horror and awe had returned tenfold.
Not to mention... Kurama was powerful.
Ace remembered Naru telling them stories when they were children, tales of legendary creatures she called Bijuu, mystical beings of impossible strength. Back then he had assumed she was just spinning another one of her wild fantasies to entertain them. But the more he thought about those stories now, the more he realized they matched Kurama far too closely for it to be a coincidence.
During his intense pursuit of Teach, he had not had a moment to sit down and reflect on the oddities surrounding his sister. He had not questioned her strange encounters, her inexplicable strength, or the giant fox that sometimes emerged from her body as if she were summoning a spirit from another realm. In the chaos of Marineford, he had barely processed the moment Kurama materialized from her in a swirling surge of crimson energy.
"He's sleeping," Naru replied casually now, though Ace caught the underlying exasperation woven through her tone. Kurama was inside her seal again, snoring loudly enough in her mind that she felt tempted to thump him for being useless. As if hearing the thought, one of the fox's enormous eyes flickered open within her inner world.
"I see…" Ace muttered, though something uneasy lingered beneath his voice.
Naru noticed it instantly. "Why? What's on your mind?"
He hesitated, forming the words slowly. "It might be nothing. I just remembered… one of Teach's crew members. Catarina Devon, the Crescent Moon Hunter. She transformed into something that… looked exactly like Kurama."
Naru's eyes narrowed. Inside her mind, Kurama mirrored her expression with equal irritation.
"She transformed into my form?" Kurama scoffed with deep offense. "How utterly laughable. As if anyone could match the Great Kyubi."
"But hers was white," Ace clarified further. "Shanks said she had eaten a Mythical Zoan type Devil Fruit."
"Mythical Zoan? Like Marco's phoenix?" Naru asked, intrigued.
Ace nodded. "Exactly. It is called the Inu Inu no Mi, Kyubi no Kitsune model."
"A cheap imitation," Kurama declared proudly. "An embarrassing counterfeit. I should track down this pretender and show her what a true Kyubi looks like."
'Not now, Kurama,' she replied inwardly, rolling her eyes.
"A Devil Fruit user, huh?" she mused aloud, a smirk playing on her lips. "A white version of Kurama? That's... intriguing. What can she do?"
Ace frowned. "Can't say much. I didn't get a proper look. Marco and I were focused entirely on Teach."
Naru hummed, thoughtful. "I imagine Kurama would tear her apart if he ever met her."
"As I should," Kurama huffed.
Their conversation briefly lingered on Devon and her Devil Fruit, but soon shifted back to the real Kyubi in their midst.
"Hey..." Ace began, a little unsure, "Is Kurama really the Kyubi from your stories? The Bijuu? Back when we were kids... I always assumed you made them up."
"You really want to know?" Naru asked with a playful smile.
That gleam in her eyes gave Ace pause. For a second, he almost backed out. But curiosity was a powerful force—stronger than hesitation, stronger than fear. So he nodded.
Seeing his freckled face so eager, Naru decided to tell him.
"I never found Kurama," she said. "He has been with me since my births."
"Huh?" Ace blinked. The phrasing struck him as strange, but he dismissed it as a slip of the tongue. He had entirely missed the significance of her wording, too focused on the revelation itself. "Since you were a baby?"
She nodded.
"But I never saw him until you brought him out that day!"
"Kurama was still a shy furball back then," she said with a teasing grin.
"Excuse me?" Kurama cut in with a deeply offended rumble. "I was not shy. I simply refused to waste my breath on you brats."
So you did like me after all? she teased inside her mind. Aww, Kurama, how sweet. I like you too.
"Don't flatter yourself. You're just... marginally less annoying than the rest," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. Then, as if realizing he was enjoying the banter too much, he abruptly retreated. "Ugh, talking to you is cutting into my precious sleep. I'm done."
Before she could say anything, he severed the connection.
Naru rolled her eyes fondly before returning her focus to Ace. "Kurama has always been with me. He is not simply a partner in battle or some pet. He is my closest companion, my shadow, my strength. We move forward together."
She lifted a finger and tapped her chest. "Think of us as a single team."
Ace swallowed. "But the way he… comes out of you…"
She smiled, mysterious and calm. "That is because we are one."
Ace opened his mouth to ask more. Oh, he had a mountain of questions burning inside him. But he knew her well. Naru revealed things at her own pace. Any attempt to press her would only push her further into silence.
Later that night, as the sky shimmered with starlight, Naru began telling him a story. A very old one. She spoke about the celestial Rabbit Goddess and the Forbidden Tree, a tale she had once whispered to him when he had been small enough to sit on her lap. But the way she told it now felt different. Ancient. Heavy. Real. Every word painted vivid images, weaving myth and truth together until they were inseparable.
Her storytelling had always been like a spell, able to make reality bend and reshape itself around the listener. Tonight, even the breeze seemed to hush itself, listening.
Ace, for the first time in far too long, felt himself truly breathe. He relaxed, leaning back, letting her voice settle into him like a warm blanket.
For the first time since Marineford, the grief in his chest lightened. Just a little. Enough for him to remember that peace still existed, that moments like this could still happen.
And in the peaceful days that followed, Ace found himself living again instead of simply surviving.