The celebration on Sphinx Island was a far cry from the rowdy, sake-soaked brawls of the Moby Dick, but it held a deeper, more resonant soul. The villagers, many of whom had been protected by Whitebeard's name for decades, brought out baskets of roasted root vegetables, fresh bread, and jugs of potent local brew. Lanterns were strung from the low-hanging branches of the trees, casting a warm, flickering amber glow over the faces of the crew as they mingled with the locals, sharing stories of the "Old Man" that brought both laughter and quiet tears. But as the night deepened and the fires began to settle into glowing embers, the atmosphere shifted. The weight of the graves on the hill seemed to press down on the camp. Ace sat on a fallen log, his elbows on his knees, staring into the flickering heart of the central fire. Marco, Izo, and Maye sat around him, a silent perimeter of leadership. "We can't keep running the Grand Line in a scout ship," Maye said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the wood. She looked at the blueprints they had sketched in the sand earlier—rough outlines of a vessel that looked more like a floating fortress. "The *Empress* is a fine lady, but she doesn't command the horizon. If we're going to do this, if we're going to be the family Pops wanted us to be, we need a home that the Marines can see from three islands away. Something that tells them the Whitebeards haven't just returned; they've evolved." Ace nodded, his gaze hardening. "I don't want to hide anymore. I'm tired of the shadows." "It's not just about the ship, Ace," Maye continued, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. She looked at her hands, the ruby on her chest pulsing a slow, rhythmic crimson. "I'm tired of being a ghost. I'm tired of looking at my own grave and feeling like I'm trespassing in the land of the living. I want my life back. But I can't breathe, really breathe, knowing that Teach is out there wearing our Father's coat, or that Akainu is sitting in his office thinking he successfully 'cleansed' the world of us." She looked up at Ace, her blue eyes reflecting the orange flames until they looked like twin stars. "I can't forgive them. And I can't let them live. If we're going to sail again, it's not for the One Piece. It's for a reckoning." The commanders looked at one another, the iron in Maye's voice settling into their bones. There was no argument. There was only the quiet, collective vow of a family that had been pushed too far.
Later, the village had gone silent, the only sound being the distant, rhythmic shush of the waves against the shore. Maye stood at the edge of the cliff side, looking out at the moonlight dancing on the water. The air was cool, but her skin felt like it was simmering. A presence materialized behind her—warm, solid, and smelling of wood smoke and salt. Ace didn't say a word as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his heart beating a steady, heavy drum against her spine. "You meant what you said," he whispered into her hair. "About the reckoning." "Every word," she replied, turning in his arms to face him. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble and the heat that never truly left him. "I don't want to spend my second chance waiting for the other shoe to drop, Ace. I want to be the one who drops it." Ace looked at her with an intensity that made her knees weak—a mixture of pride, fierce protection, and a hunger that had been suppressed by grief for far too long. He realized then that she wasn't just his "Anchor" anymore; she was his partner in every sense of the word. "Then we'll burn it all down together," he promised. The air between them changed, the political weight of the mission melting away into something raw and primal. The way Ace looked at her wasn't as a Captain or a brother-in-arms; it was the look of a man who had seen the abyss and was now staring at the only light that mattered. Their faces drew closer, a magnetic pull. Maye's eyelids fluttered, heavy with anticipation, as Ace's eyes followed suit. Their lips met, a sickeningly sweet, loving, and warm collision. His hands tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. Her own fingers threaded into the thick hair at the back of his neck, raking gently. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, a silent invitation. Ace stepped forward, pressing her back against the cold railing. His tongue, hot and insistent, licked at her bottom lip, seeking entry. She parted her lips, granting access. Their tongues met, tangled, and swirled, a dance of pure desire. She pressed harder into him, their bodies interlocking like perfect puzzle pieces. Ace broke the kiss, a ragged gasp escaping his lips. He leaned his forehead against hers, chest heaving. "Maye," he whispered, his eyes darkening, pupils dilated with desire. "I want you," the words spilled from her, unchecked, raw. His breath hitched. A hand slid from her waist, tracing the curve of her hip, then cupping the back of her thigh. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. "I want you too, but are you sure?" he checked, his voice thick with a question she barely registered. Maye's lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes glassy with emotion. "Please," she purred, the sound a low vibration against his ear. He moved then, his mouth claiming hers again as he began to walk, carrying her toward the small, pre-assigned room. The door appeared, and he placed her gently on her feet, fumbling with the lock. The soft click echoed in the confined space as they stepped inside, the air between them charged, crackling.
[AUTHOR NOTE: The next chapter is a bonus one, its smut and it is skip friendly. You don't need to read it to continue the story, hence it being called a bonus chapter.]