A/N: Its a bit short, but there'll be an action scene next chapter to look forward to :)

Chapter 15

Handling Lies

Ace tentatively poked his head over the edge of the sleeping cabin. Right there was Harry, swabbing the deck with a bucket and mop while singing a song in an indecipherable language. If he took a leap off this roof towards the older boy, he should be able to make it to tackle Harry around the chest area, which should be enough to knock him off balance, if not completely tumble him to the ground. The wet floor would be to his advantage in this scenario, and any follow-up attacks would be made depending on Harry's reaction.

With a resolute nod, Ace tensed up, then pushed off to launch at his target. At first, everything went as planned. Harry was somehow able to notice his approaching tackle but had no time to dodge, so Ace managed to hit him right in the chest with both palms. The floor being slippery, Harry actually started falling backwards, but instead of landing on his back, open for Ace to punch him, the wizard back-rolled with the momentum until he came back once more to his feet, one hand grabbing Ace's shoulder to shove the boy down to the ground.

When all was said and done, Harry was crouching steadily on his two feet, looming over a scowling Ace who was pinned by the shoulder to lie on his back against the damp wooden deck.

"Nice one," Harry complimented. "In the future, though, try a more damaging initial attack. Shoving me to the ground is great and all, but if you had punched me in the chin or head-butted my stomach, I would've had much less control over my response to your ambush."

"Hey now," a passing marine called out, "leave the roughhousing for after you finish with your chores."

"Righto!" Harry replied with a cheeky salute. He pulled Ace up and went to pick up his mop that he had dropped.

Ace stood there for a moment, just watching, before talking when it was pretty clear that all the marines were busy with duties elsewhere. "I can't believe they let us on."

"And why is that?" Harry asked with an amused smile as he wet the mop in his bucket.

"You hardly told that marine officer anything, yesterday" Ace pointed out. "What exactly did you end up saying – that you hadn't been there on that island for a long time, that you wanted to leave again soon, and that you don't care about the trouble or risks of being on a marine ship? I think it's stupid that they let you on with just that – I mean, it's not like you ever ended up giving them a reason to think you aren't a risk."

Harry chuckled. "It depends on a person's perspective. For one, they don't know what I can do like you do, so while we may find it incredibly ironic that they'd trust me out of all people, you have to ignore that to understand their point of view.

"For another, as adults, we are more likely to draw our own conclusions from really vague details. I'm a twenty-some year old male traveling alone with a nine year old child. I also apparently have bad memories associated with an island I haven't been on in awhile and you don't particularly like me despite my efforts to appease you with promises of adventures. I'm sure they've decided that we're a father-son pair, and I dislike this island because it's where your mother died of childbirth, and you and I have issues connecting because of the bad emotions resulting from her death compounded by my age being too young for a proper father."

Ace's eyes grew wide with shock for a moment as he tried to process that story. "I'm not going to start calling you Dad," he finally said, firmly.

"There's no need to," Harry assured, rubbing his mop roughly against a crack in the planks to try and dissolve the dirt caked there. "They'll just assume something else. Like maybe, your mother didn't die of childbirth, but I fled because I didn't want to handle the responsibility of being a teenage father. When I came back, I found out your mother died and took you in, only either I didn't tell you of my relation to you out of shame, or I did but you refused to accept it because you hate me for my absence up until now. Or if they prefer to consider me the good guy in the soap opera, maybe they'll think that my true love cheated on me long ago so I left, heartbroken, only to return and find an orphaned you. I'm not your father, but in memory of my true love, I decide to take care of you rather than leave you in the streets. And of course, there will always be the more practical people who decide that we're just brothers with a really large age gap. Our parents died recently so I decided we need a change of scenery while you're upset that I'm running away from home and dragging you along.

"There's no limit to the possibilities, and in the end, it's better to keep our stories vague. For one, it's suspicious to be too willing to tell detailed stories of our tragic past. For another, the more details we confirm, the more fake information we have to keep track of. Also, people love good gossip. The vaguer we are, the more stories people can come up with and share and compare and argue over. And really, the more stories that float out there, the less likely they are to catch us in contradictions, because they'll just assume they heard a faulty rumor before."

Ace was silent for a long time, and Harry was starting to feel a little embarrassed for saying so much. Really, he should know better than to ramble so much to a nine year old boy about the intricacies of a good lie.

"Harry," Ace finally said while the man wringed dried his mop, ready to go put his equipment away.

"Yeah, Jack?"

"What's a soap opera?"

"Teleporting Devil Fruit ability, right? We're pretty sure it was that guy from the report, sir. He was in East Blue just a few hours ago, saying something about heading back to the Grand Line.

"Yes sir.

"Yes sir, he did. One second he was there and the next the ocean was clear as anything. Sir, permission to offer a suggestion? There was a kid with him sir, and he moved both of them together. They seemed pretty close. Surely it would be easier to catch a child than a teleporter?

"Yes sir.

"No sir, sorry sir.

"Of course sir, right away."

The marine hung up his den den mushi with a huff in disgust. Those goody-two shoes commissioned officers. First they demote him to a position in East Blue for gaining a Devil Fruit power without permission – because apparently they had originally planned to give it to someone else – and now they rebuke him for offering up an easy catch. Who cared if the boy only looked to be about eight years old – he was traveling with a felon!

A dangerous felon. A felon who would probably earn him several promotions, because really, who knew what he was doing out there with his deadly knives right this minute?

"Working hard there, Harry?"

Harry smiled over the pile of potatoes he was peeling. "Officer Logan," Harry greeted. "I'm not sure how 'hard' I can work when it's just me, a knife, and a mountain of potatoes. It's mostly just tedious."

"Well, you seem to be rather efficient at it," Logan observed, glancing at the large bowl that was filling up with peeled potatoes despite the early hour, "although, weren't you swabbing the deck a few days ago?"

Harry nodded. "That was the first day when we left the port," Harry clarified. "Since then, I've done a day of canon polishing, two days of dishwashing, and this is my third day with the potatoes. I'm starting to think I just take over the chores of whichever marine is lucky enough to greet me first each morning," Harry joked. Interestingly enough, Harry actually wasn't sure about how true it was. The marine that assigned him the day's chores did change quite often, but the alternating didn't always match up with a new set of chores. Perhaps the marines were on some sort of rotation?

"Hah, I wouldn't be surprised if that were true," Logan grinned. "We all like a day or two's break from the tedium of chores, but if it ever seems like someone in particular is asking too often, you should probably clear things up with the Commander. You're already paying us for room and board; it seems rather greedy to expect you to do so much around the ship as well."

Harry shrugged, tossing another peeled potato into the bowl. "I don't mind, though I hope there aren't too many more days of potato duty. Jack ambushed me yesterday and I nearly cut him before I remembered I had a knife in my hand."

Logan nodded, his brow furrowed at this information. "Come on then, take a break," he offered. "Maybe give Jack another chance at you unarmed. Those potatoes can wait. Our chef only ever uses them for dinner, and you're much faster than the men."

Harry easily agreed. Peeling potatoes really was a very mind-numbing chore, and he was also rather curious about Logan.

No matter how Harry thought about it, he simply couldn't understand how the man was just a Petty Officer. Even ignoring the Haki he exuded constantly, the man demonstrated many characteristics of a strong fighter and good leader. His footsteps, for one, were always even, steady, which spoke of instinctual control over his body. His eyes, for another, were always alert, never glazed over too far in thought or daydream, which spoke of his sense of responsibility over having self-awareness of his surroundings. It was possible that he was new to the marines and so hadn't had a chance to be promoted yet, but then where had he picked up such nuances in the first place?

"So other than your fluctuating responsibilities, how is life on a marine ship treating you?" Logan inquired as they walked out onto the deck.

Harry took a moment to be amused. Even the man's speech held a tiny bit too much formality and command for a foot soldier, though he supposed that could very well be due to a formal education during his youth.

"Surprisingly boring, actually," Harry admitted. "I understand that I'm not here for an adventure," or at least, Harry added mentally, I'm not going to admit to any such thing, "but I was expecting something to happen after a week at sea. I haven't even seen any of that famous Grand Line weather patterns yet."

"Don't jinx it," Logan warned teasingly. "When an actual storm strikes, you'll be kicking yourself for taking these past few days for granted," he said as he gestured out over the ship's railing towards the calm horizon. "As for the other adventurous activities you've probably been watching out for, I wouldn't hold my breath. Most days as a marine are actually a lot more boring than the average civilian supposes. The seas are simply too big for us to end up in combat with criminals every other day."

Harry nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. And really, I don't want Jack in the middle of a battle any time soon," he conceded.

"Speaking of, Jack seems pretty determined to make your days about more than just chores. I've seen a few of those attacks. He's kind of a street brawler type, but your movements to neutralize him are pretty smooth. Have you had formal training?"

"Some self-defense, yeah," Harry admitted. "Mostly unarmed combat," he added, deciding not to mention his expertise with knives. Not only did it not fit his image as a civilian, it might raise problems later to be seen using the same attack style as the criminal teleporter the whole ship of marines was currently trying to hunt down.

Logan nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I have my own duties I should be returning to," the marine finally said as they finished their round of the deck.

"And I have potatoes waiting for me," Harry added on with a smile.

Logan gave a casual wave as Harry stepped towards the kitchen doorway.

"When you're done, I'll stop by again. We should spar."

It was lucky the marine didn't look back after his offer. Harry couldn't quite stop himself abruptly halting his steps to stare at the leaving man in surprise and a hint of panic.

A/N: bum-bum-bum!

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