Kitsune here with a brand new story! Damn, it's 2:37 in the morning. I'm going to crash in a moment and get this beta'd tomorrow, but for now...The important crap. I wrote this 9,000+ word story in under a week. I deserve a cookie. (Yes that's the lack of sleep talking) There's a note at the bottom of the story you MIGHT want to read to help with timing of things. I do want to be serious for a second. Normally I'll thank one or two people in a story or at the start of a story, but this one is a bit special. It was made possible by the contributions of a larger group than normal. So. I want to thank Anjelle, Bard of Chaos, The Last Anbu, Mountain97, and Son Goshen for their help. Anjelle triggered this with just a passing comment and it kind of snowballed. Bard of Chaos and The Last Anbu helped with solidifying ideas to use and acting as sounding boards, which I always seem to need. Mountain97 was great and looked over the story as well as providing tweaking to the ideas. I'm not even sure if Shen knew about this story, but one of our chats helped me out a lot. So thank you all, guys.

Do I look like Pirate King? No? Good, because I don't own (the) One Piece. Which kind of sucks, actually. I wanna be Pirate King.

Question of the story: "Has a conversation ever snowballed into a full blown story on you?" Obviously the answer for me is yes.

"Here you go." The fourth division commander placed the generous portion of that night's meal in front of Moby Dick's resident grouch with a happy grin.

Most of Ace's old crew had been dispersed to other ships in the fleet under Marco's orders after the first division commander had caught the lot of them plotting on 'rescuing' their former Captain. Again. The first three times had been amusing, but the crew was almost as tenacious as Portgas and Marco was afraid they were going to accidentally kill one of the poor bastards. Not that Ace seemed to care. Honestly, Thatch hadn't seen anything to warrant such adamant loyalty from the Spade Pirate crew beyond that first fight where the young captain had put a wall of fire between the crew and Whitebeard, telling his men to run. Oyaji saw something in him, though, so Thatch was going to do his damn best to be nice to the brat.

Ace barely glanced at the plate before glaring at the guy kind enough to feed him. "What the hell is that?"

"Dinner. Specifically, sea-king steak in a citrus glaze and rice with a slice of carrot cake."

"What's wrong with it?" Ignoring the fork, the teen poked the steak suspiciously with his finger and sniffed the goo that stuck to his hand.

Thatch gaped at him for a moment before smacking him up the back of the head. "You idiot! What the hell is that supposed to mean? Here I am trying to be nice and you're acting like I've poisoned it or something! Just eat it, you ungrateful brat."

"I'm not hungry." Gurrrrlllrrrlgl.

The pompadour'd man raised an eyebrow incredulously at the sound Ace's stomach made even as the dark-haired youth colored. "Really?"

"Shut up!" The boy huffed, obviously embarrassed as he picked up the plate and scooped half the rice into his maw before shoving the plate at Thatch. "Th're. 'Appy n'w?"

"You can't seriously expect me to believe you ate enough."

Ace stood in response and started putting distance between them. "I can't eat that shit. Screw you."

Thatch sniffed the now rapidly cooling slab of sea-king before deciding he wasn't about to let it go to waste as he glared at the retreating idiot who was off to God-knows where, most likely to try and kill Oyaji again. He really, really didn't see what the big deal was with the brat. Not one bit. Calling good food shit like that...Thatch huffed indignantly. Some people just had no appreciation for good cooking. He'd spent time on that food, dammit, and was being good enough to offer some to their oh-so-gracious guest (he'd only tried to kill Oyaji, what, 27 times now?) and this was the thanks he got? Thatch had to wonder what it was Oyaji saw in the boy. He viciously stabbed the fork down only to hear the tell-tale clank of metal on plate. Looking down he found the meal gone and of course he was still pissed and the orange glaze, while tasty as hell, made him thirsty to boot. Maybe if he was lucky the other cooks on duty had left some of the good saké out. He'd just...meander into the kitchen and hey, if he happened to pick up a bottle of that special saké they'd bought for Jozu's upcoming birthday? What the hell. Nobody could pin it on him. Not when he planned to be well and truly safe in Marco's company long before anyone noticed the theft. No one would dare accuse Marco of dipping into the saké early.

Lucky for Thatch the rest of the crew had long since started dispersing from the galley either to find their beds or to start their shifts if they were unlucky enough. Kitchen cleanup hadn't yet started however, so he was able to slip right in unnoticed, leaving the plate by the sink next to a stack of similarly abused implements. Noticing the pantry door ajar, Thatch frowned, wondering if perhaps on of the other cooks, possibly Cari, was getting an early start on organizing the supplies for breakfast. The woman practically mainstreamed coffee and whenever she had the morning shift she had a nasty habit of dragging the bag of roasted beans all the way to the front of the pantry and leaving it there for easier access in the morning the night before. The problem was the harpy would never tell anyone, and he wasn't the only one who'd face-planted after tripping over the sack. He was the fourth division commander, dammit! He shouldn't need to turn on the light in the pantry to get the fucking cinnamon just because someone couldn't do without her morning coffee. Or clean up after herself. Studiously, he turned his back on the open pantry, figuring that he'd already had enough aggravation for the evening without fighting with one of his siblings over something so stupid and ducked into the liquor closet. Just as expected, the saké for Juzo's birthday was on the shelf right to the left of the door in nice neat rows. There was more than enough for the party to last days, really, though the extra technically belonged to Oyaji. Didn't stop Thatch from slipping a bottle from the back out of it's cradle with a grin.

As he silently shut the door behind him, he wasn't paying too much attention to anything but the bottle he was smugly flipping over in his hand, already imagining the cool-yet-warm burn that would help fuzz his nerves. Hearing a click a second behind his own door's he looked up guiltily, having completely forgotten about the other cook in the pantry. Excuses and explanations danced on the tip of his tongue and died as he looked into a pair of equally guilty gray eyes over a freckled nose. The two of them stared at each other, though there was no question who looked odder. Ace had a full wedge of cheese stuffed under one arm, a few loaves of bread under another, a salted ham, a dried sausage clenched between his teeth, and an apple held precariously as he let go of the doorknob. The teen warily watched Thatch, eyes glancing from his face to the bottle of saké to the door behind him before smirking. At least, he thought it was a smirk. It could have been a snarl, like Stefan made when he had a particularly good bone. When Ace went to reach into his pocket with the hand holding on to his lone apple, the redhead snorted, earning a glare as Ace shoved the offending fruit at him. He took it wordlessly, wondering what the brat was up to. When the key to the pantry came out of the pocket, locking the door before being returned to it's usual hiding spot he gaped at Ace, not even reacting as the apple was snatched out of his hand and the thief pulled a vanishing act. Tentatively he knocked on the pantry door, hoping in a weird way that the grumpy former captain had locked one of his cooks in after talking them into letting him have some extra food. He wasn't surprised that there wasn't any answer, leaving him to wonder just how the hell Ace had found the key in the first place as he went off in search of Marco.

Rule one of finding Marco after eleven at night: try his room first. "Marco! You in there?" He shouted, banging on the door.

"Not if you're drunk, plotting something, or hiding from someone, you ass."

"First off, you've said yourself you don't trust the rest of the crew not to toss me overboard if they had to drunk-sit me. Secondly, as first division commander, it's your job to want to know what I'm plotting, or why I'm hiding from someone. But that's not why I'm here. Now are you going to open up or not, bird-boy?"

The door practically flew open, Marco standing on the other side with his lazy blue eyes offering a halfhearted glare. "Sometimes I hate you, yoi. Bird-boy?"

Thatch just laughed off the look as he handed over the bottle and claimed the bed as his seat. Despite the heated words and insults they traded frequently, Marco wasn't just his brother, he was his best friend. "What, want me to call you pineapple instead?"

"Well, it's better than chicken." Marco offered a half smile as he pulled out two cups from the bottom drawer of his desk. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at the label on the bottle, though Thatch was sure he recognized it. A moment passed in silence as the two had their first drink, both enjoying the 'sampling' of the saké. That's what Marco would claim at least. At length the first division commander spun his chair around and pulling one leg up onto the seat, rested an arm over the back of it. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Can't a guy just want to see his best buddy?"

"You saw me at dinner. Said something about feeding our stray. How'd that go?"

Thatch plopped backwards on the bed, careful not to spill a drop of liquor. "Well, he didn't bite me. But he called my cooking shit. Shit, Marco!"

"How dare he." The blond was obviously nowhere nearly as distraught about this as Thatch thought he should be.

Holding out his cup for another shot he continued he tale. "Get this. I caught him coming out of the pantry when I went to go grab that fine bottle of saké you're partaking in, my friend."

"Maybe you just reminded him how hungry he was, yoi."

"Yeah, that's what I thought at first, too. Except, how the fuck did he get the key, Marco? Can you answer me that? Huh?"

"Did you ask him?" Marco shrugged, "He's a straightforward brat, you know. Probably would tell you."

"Didn't have time. Little shit took off before I could."

The first division commander chuckled, "Too shocked to react right away, huh? Well, good luck finding him to ask. Kid's slipperier than an eel, you know. In fact, Haruta's made a game of hunting out all his damn bolt holes."

Haruta

Haruta shifted a little more to the left as she studied her prey. The brat had some skills, though as far as she was concerned Oyaji should stop playing with him and just beat him down. Still, the crew had their orders, they weren't allowed to 'convince' Ace to join the family in their own way, they were to let the kid adjust at his own speed. Didn't mean the commanders didn't bend the rules, though. Just the other day Izo had patched all of the tears in Ace's clothes by force. Of course, even after ten days it was a well established fact that the logia user didn't expect any kindness from the Whitebeard crew. Pride, stubbornness, being batshit insane, whatever the reason was, Izo'd come prepared to tackle the troublemaking pyro. With Vista's assistance the Sixteenth division commander had stripped and re-dressed the teen in record time. When Ace had finally gotten away, he'd vanished. That had been the start of Haruta's current game with the taller youth (and damn him for the extra height, anyway!) for all that the other was an unwitting participant. That was half the fun, though. The other half being the tailing him and figuring out exactly where and how he kept vanishing. He was good, real good, if she was honest. For someone new to the Moby Dick, the ship tended to be confusing, full of many levels, half-decks, side-rooms and dead-end halls. Ace navigated it all like he'd grown up there, avoiding the rest of the crew with ease. When combined with his general bad attitude, it was a bit like dealing with a spook.

Naturally, Oyaji found it funny. The rest of the crew didn't necessarily agree with the patriarch of the ship, however. Not when he started popping up in places he had no business being in. Haruta, though, she found it interesting. Up until that point she'd believed she had discovered every single possible passageway and hiding spot on the ship. A very useful thing indeed when it came to inter-division hide and seek. Ace was managing to vanish in places she could have sworn there was no where to go, only to appear in a completely different spot on the ship. Now, if she'd smelled smoke, or if the boards were warm, she'd suspect him of using his powers, but that wasn't the case. Which was exactly why she was stalking him, even when he was just going into the bathroom. Speaking of, he'd been in there for a while actually...

"Whacha doing?" Someone asked, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Stalking Portgas." She hissed, not bothering to turn around, she waved a hand, gesturing for the other person to crouch down with her. "Get down before he sees you!"

She felt more then saw the other comply with her order. Sometimes it was good to be a commander. Most of the crew just listened to her. "Why are you stalking him?"

"Because it's fun."

"You're that bored you're fucking with him? Haven't you ever heard the term 'Playing with fire'?"

"Hardy har har. Very funny, asshole. Keep it down, will you? You wanna give the game away or something? It's not because I'm bored, really. He's...interesting. Kinda like a pissed off cat. I like cats. Hey, maybe if I scratch him behind the ears he'll tell me how he keeps vanishing like that...or he might bite me. Mmmm, Rakuyo thinks he might have rabies though. Macy is afraid of the kid, you know."

"Macy?"

"Yeah, you know, Rakuyo's weapon. Ate a Devil fruit an-" she turned and looked at her companion, mouth dropping open as she came face to face with stormy grey eyes that watched her guardedly.

She blinked, hoping that the freckled face with it's shaggy black hair was an illusion or something, but it was still there. She whipped her head back to the door to the restroom just in time to see another crewmen enter the obviously empty room before spinning back to stare at the teen crouched next to her. Ace (there was no way to avoid the fact that it was Ace) was balanced on his heels, hands draped over his knees as he watched her, a possible smirk on his face, though she couldn't be sure.

He held up a hand. "Yo." Yep. It had been a smirk. The cocky bastard. Damn he was good.

"How?! You, I saw you go in there!"

He just shrugged, still smirking as he stood, "You figure it out. It's 'fun' right?" and with that, he was around the barrels, with her hot on his heels. It didn't do her a lick of good, however. He was gone the moment she lost sight of him.

Still, it was going to be an interesting game. Even more so with two of them playing now. Though she should probably let Marco know so he didn't lay an egg or something when one of them fell out of a duct in the showers or some other spot that would be just as awkward. He tended to get pissy about things like that for some reason. Maybe she could pass it off as ship maintenance? Nah, he'd never buy that...looked like she'd have to be honest.

Marco & Thatch

"So you're telling me that's why the munchkin has been popping up all over the place recently? She's on an Ace hunt?"

Marco nodded, "Yep. Hasn't caught him yet, either. Next time she goes by, listen to what she's muttering. It's kind of funny, actually. Last time I think it was 'putting a fucking bell on that pretty little neck before I strangle it' or something like that. She's getting really worked up about it."

"He must be good to keep giving her the slip. I know for a fact the brat ain't sleeping in that storeroom Oyaji had us set up for him at all."

"Oh? I see him coming out of there often enough." The first division commander leaned back, "What seems to be the problem, then? Too quiet after all?"

Thatch waved a hand, a smirk on his face, "Like there was anywhere on this boat that's quiet even before Portgas started raising nine kinds of hell. I don't think that's an issue, anyway. Besides, would you want to be the one to tell his new roomies he's bunking with them?"

"Good point. So what's the issue?"

"The issue is there's nowhere for him to sleep in there."

"You're kidding, yoi." Marco's eyes widened slightly as he took a sip of his drink, "I dragged the bunk up there myself. What the hell happened to it?"

"Oh, it's still there." Thatch laughed, "He's just not using it for it's intended purpose."

"...You know it worries me when you say shit like that."

"Ah, but it's not me this time!" The fourth division commander poured himself another shot before continuing, "He's using the bunk, the whole room really, as storage."

"Storage for what?"

Vista

"You would think a member of the famed Whitebeard Pirates, scourge of the New World wouldn't need to go hunting for the damn mustache wax." Vista muttered to himself as he swung down the corner towards the storage closet farthest away from his division.

It also happened to be the one closest to Oyaji and therefore the most likely to have the apparently elusive necessity, since the man used enough for a village each day. Unfortunately, Oyaji also used a brand he himself wasn't too fond of. (Honestly, its consistency reminded him of a soft candle dipped in rendered fat. It was less than pleasant on his hands) Still, it would do until someone either made a supply run, or they docked at an island. The fifth division commander felt naked without his 'stache waxed up, it felt wrong. So wrong in fact that Vista actually caught himself heaving a sigh of relief when he came within sight of the closet before casting a sheepish glance around to make sure no one had been around to notice. It was a bit embarrassing to get so worked up about it after all, and he knew some commanders, namely the sixteenth and the fourth, who'd take glee in mocking him for his distress. Ruefully shaking his head, Vista opened the door and looked for his salvation, only to narrowly avoid being clocked in the head by what seemed to be a ball of rope.

Picking it up from the floor he looked carefully at it. "Yep. Ball of rope. Huh. Must be a new chew toy or something." He put it back and continued to look. "Towel, empty jar, float, broken hilt, dull knife, the pair of shoes I tossed last night, rock. Rock?" He looked again and rubbed his eyes. Nothing changed, the shelves were filled with random junk, including his old shoes with the worn out soles for some strange reason. That, he could deal with. He really could, since he could name over a dozen of his brothers and sisters who would possibly do this to screw with someone. But there was no wax. Which meant there was no damn wax in any of the supply closets or bathrooms on the ship. "It's a nightmare. Any moment I'll wake up and I'll find out that this has been a horrible dream." He muttered as he closed the door and rested his head against it.

A prim voice luckily stopped him before he could even think about what would happen if Oyaji found out that they were wax-less. "What'll be a dream?"

Turning he found himself face to face with a sight one didn't see every day, even aboard the same ship. Izo without his makeup on. The man looked decidedly unhappy as he stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. If it wasn't for the kimono and the innately done hair, Visa would have suspected that the sixteenth commander was going the other way for the day. Sometimes he did that, after all. Except he never did in a kimono. It occurred to Vista that there might be a shortage of all cosmetics, not just his wax. Quickly he tried to think if he had seen any during his hunt, any at all. In the end, he could just wordlessly sigh and open the door for his friend. Words wouldn't be enough to express it anyway. Izo made a strangled noise, pushing him to the side and rummaging in the closet in vain.

"It's a nightmare." Vista bemoaned again.

"That little prick!" Izo hissed, slamming the door with excessive force before grabbing Vista's arm and dragging him along in his wake, "Come with me if you want your wax."

"You know where it is?"

The gun toting male geisha's looked promised pain for someone. "No. But I know who does."

"Really?" That was good enough for him, he followed along eagerly, hoping to put an end to this prank before Oyaji got involved. "Who did it?"

"That troublemaker, that's who. When I get my hands on him I'm going to...!" Izo stopped in front of the door to the room put to the side for Ace. The door was open half way, letting light spill into the room. Izo didn't even bother to knock, instead just shoving the door open and standing in the entrance way with hands on his hips, Visa looming over his shoulder. Whatever the man was going to say died on his lips at the sight of the room.

It was a mess. Piles of junk everywhere, broken practice weapons, odds and ends from all over the ship. Actually, it looked a bit like the piles of loot the crew hauled in after a raid except for it being made up of the type of crap they left behind. In the middle of it all with his back to them sat the dark haired youth that had captured Oyaji's attention not long before. Ace seemed to be in the best mood that Vista had ever seen him in, if the way he was muttering the most nonsensical song under his breath as he fiddled with something was any indication. "The islands in the south are warm - Paina-purupuru - Their heads get really hot - And they're all idiots..."

"That makes absolutely no sense, boy." He felt compelled to point out on behalf of his ship-siblings from the South Blue. Other than the slight tensing of his shoulders, the teen didn't acknowledge their presence at all, still focused on what he was doing as he hummed.

"The islands in the north - Are cold - Hyakkoi-koikoi - Their heads shiver all around - And they're all idiots..." Finishing with whatever it was he was working on Ace finally turned, one arm dangling over his knee as he glared at them wordlessly.

Izo, who he'd almost forgotten was there, had finally calmed down enough to speak apparently. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Making a brush for that monster you morons call a dog." A blockish item was whipped at Izo's head and the crossdresser was forced to let go of his guns to grab it. Not that his guns would have been useful against Ace, nor would he have used them since Oyaji would have been pissed. It turned out to be what looked like a piece of scrap wood with a worn out very dull saw imbedded in it, teeth facing up. "Stupid thing is shedding all over the place, you know."

"So you made this?" The fifth division commander was a bit impressed. "Stefan bites, you know. He won't let anyone but Pops pet him." A feral grin was his only response as he put the brush down on a free spot on the bed. Vista didn't know if felt worse for the dog or the boy, because someone was going to get hurt.

"Vista, that's not why we're here, remember? We're here about our stuff!" the crossdresser snapped, pushing his way into the room with a look of distaste. Following uneasily, he thought he caught a flash of amusement on Portgas's face before the bitter anger replaced it once more. "You little prick, you've been raiding the storage rooms!"

"Yep." He smirked, "Is that what has your kimono in a twist? I take something of yours?"

"YES! Give it back, or I'm going to shoot you."

"What's in it for me?"

Vista quickly interfered and snatched the gun that had come up, forcing his fellow commander to lower the weapon, "What do you want?"

The teen looked around his clutter, smug and appraising, "I've got most of what I need"

"Stolen!"

They both ignored Izo, "and I can make a lot more. But I'd like a good spar."

"You do not consider your battles with Oyaji good?" The sour look was answer enough and he tried not to laugh about it. "Deal, then. I will spar with you. Later today, in fact."

"Vista, right?" The teen stood, navigating the room without looking where he was going, "I was starting to feel rusty." He wasn't sure if he found that more surprising, or the almost friendly tone as Ace brought over a bag and handed it to him, "This is all the stuff you might be looking for, since I left the usual stuff behind. What the hell is rice powder, anyway? You can't eat it; it tastes horrible. Don't tell me you seriously powder rice."

"You tried to eat. EAT. My rice powder." Izo hissed, digging in the bag for his precious cosmedics, "You savage little brat. It's foundation!"

Ace just blinked at him. "Foundation?"

Izo apparently saw the look as well, "Yes, I wear makeup. On my face. Like a girl. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Ooooh! Makeup! Nope. Not a problem at all." Ace grinned for a second before his cheeks colored. "So, um, mustache wax isn't wax that comes off of mustache? Like bees wax is made by bees?"

The two of them stared at him in shock as it suddenly occurred to them that it was possible he wasn't familiar with cosmetics as a whole. Vista groped in the bag blindly, pulling out a new jar of his favorite wax. "No, it's for styling facial hair. Like so." Deftly he opened the jar and had his whiskers once again slicked the way he liked them. Ace watched carefully the whole time, not hostile. "If you grow your own mustache you cou-"

"No." Grey eyes turned cold instantly. "I'll never grow one."

Izo snorted. "Good. We don't need another fool around trying to be like Oyaji." He elbowed Vista in the broad chest, "The few we have are more than enough."

"Very funny, Izo." He handed the teen the wax anyway. "Just in case you change your mind. You can use it on beards, too."

"Not gonna happen." He pocketed the bottle anyway though before pushing past both of them and heading to the door. Picking up his makeshift brush he bowed politely, leaving them both amazed. Vista had been under the impression the brat didn't have any manners to speak of. "Now if you'll excuse me. Got a dog to groom." He grinned maniacally at them and strolled out of the room, humming that ridiculous tune.

Marco & Thatch

Marco snorted softly, imagining neat-freak Izo's reaction to the cluttered room. He'd wondered why the man had started avoiding that section of the ship like the plague, naturally assuming it had been because of Ace. That theory had been shot to hell when Izo had patched the brat's clothes up though. Now he knew. Part of him was itching to get a good look at that room now just to see how bad it really was. It couldn't be too bad, since it didn't smell or anything. They had quite a few nakama who'd've thrown a fit if it smelled.

The big question became just where the hell he was getting all the junk. "Scratch that. Why's he collecting junk?"

"You say something?" Thatch asked, giving the bottle an experimental shake.

"Just wondering why the brat was collecting trash, yoi."

His friend shrugged. "Couldn't tell you. Izo noticed him picking up odds and ends around deck. Doesn't even know when it started. Think he's a klepto?"

"No, too random. Besides, you saw his old ship before Oyaji sunk it, right?" Marco crossed his arms over the back of the chair and leaned on them, "Clean, orderly...None of the info we have on him says he's a magpie either."

"Really? A bird reference?"

"You're just sore I beat you to it, yoi." He grinned back. "I have no clue what's going on in that messed up head of his. This is the dumbass who's still after Oyaji's head."

Thatch sighed melodramatically, shaking his head before pouring another round for the two of them. "I know. He's tenacious at least."

"More like suicidally reckless and stupid." Marco growled out. "Did you hear about the shit he pulled on Jozu?"

"No, what?"

Jozu

The feeling of being watched was starting to get on his nerves. Who ever was stalking him was good. So good in fact that most would have difficulty spotting the tail without the use of observational haki. Jozu wasn't sure if he should be annoyed that he could, though. Turns out that having Haruta as a buddy paid off. Except now the back of his neck itched because someone was staring at him and he didn't know who. The why part was considerably less worrying to him. It could range from someone thinking of a way to ask him to swap shifts or chores to a joke, maybe even training. It really depended on who was stalking him. (If it turned out to be Thatch going "Ooo ahhh shiny!" again he was personally going to chuck the fourth division commander overboard.) That brought him back to trying to figure out who it was.

So far he'd narrowed it down to those who didn't have duty at the moment and the other commanders. Well, mostly the other commanders, since they'd have the time and the skills to stalk him like this. If Haruta wasn't chasing after that new kid she would be at the top of the list. Luckily the little imp was distracted. That still left fourteen other possibilities, and unlike some of his brethren, he tended to put Marco at the top of the list for stupid crap like this. Put the phoenix under enough stress, and his slight mean streak came out. It was just like him to make you all twitchy for the day as a joke, claiming he was helping you 'hone your senses' or some such bull. Speaking of the man, Jozu hadn't seen him all day. That naturally jumped him up to number one suspect as far as he was concerned. With a grumble, Jozu shouldered the battle axe he had been sharpening and the third division commander went hunting.

Finding Marco was easier said than done when the man didn't to be found. The task should have been made easier considering the search was limited to the deck of the Moby Dick by the very fact that the man had been watching him all morning. He'd started in the most logical of places, over by Oyaji, and had worked his way around towards the aft of the ship in a clockwise manner since. The entire time he could feel the other still watching him, and by now it was fully pissing the normally calm man off. If Marco was not somewhere near the aft, that left the crow's nest as the last place to look, and he hated going up there. With his damn luck though, the commander was following him around. If that was the case he was going to have a few sharp words with the other man delivered by axe-point, because obviously the bird was pecking at him for a fight. Jozu was a little shocked to see his quarry leaning casually against the rail watching the sea as he reached the aft on the main deck, his back to him.

"Alright, Marco. What the hell do you want?"

Marco shifted, looking at him over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised. "Hmm?"

"Why have you been watching me all day? It's bugging the hell out of me." Juzo huffed as he slowly strolled over.

"Wasn't me, yoi. I've been below deck most of the day. Haruta?"

"The pipsqueak is off on her hunt. Damn, I thought it was you. Who the hell could it be?" The diamond man almost didn't catch the way Marco's eyes widened in time. Only years of fighting along side the other allowed him to react instantly to the small clue, his side turning to hardened carbon a moment before something jammed into what would have been a soft spot between two ribs with enough force to send him sliding. He caught a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye before a blow to his stomach took him by surprise, doubling him over. Whoever was attacking was fast! Jozu's reaction time was one of the best, and even still his devil fruit had been a step behind the move, just enough to hurt, but luckily save him from serious damage. Reflexively he brought around the battle axe in a broadside attack, meaning to sweep his mystery assailant aside. His weapon, imbued with haki though it was, connected with nothing, instead in harmlessly swung out in front of him, leaving his other side and back momentarily unprotected. A moment was all it took for the other to strike with rock and bone jarring force as Jozu hardened his head and neck, absorbing the blow from possibly a pole of some kind and sinking to his knees as his ears rang.

"Jozu!" His vision swimming he saw a very pissed Marco running towards him, the battle having only taken seconds.

"Fuck! You broke my pipe, you bastard." His assailant bitched in a vaguely familiar voice that the third division commander couldn't place. He wanted to point out that swinging the pipe into his head is what broke it. "Ch. Let go, already!"

Before he could even think to ask what the other was talking about he heard more then felt another blow to the back of his skull, followed up by one to his arm as his vision faded momentarily. When it cleared his head was absolutely pounding and Marco was kneeling in front of him, a worried frown etched between his eyes. His battle axe was gone, in it's place a badly mangled steel pipe which he eyed with a mixture of distaste and humor.

"Jozu, you alright?"

"What...no, I can see that. Who hit me?" He asked, rubbing his aching head. There had been no haki in the attacks at all, but they'd still been powerful. He was impressed. Pissed off and in need of a stiff drink, but impressed.

Marco pulled a sour face, but apparently judged him to be fine as they stood. "That would be Portgas D. Ace."

"The new guy who thinks he can take on Oyaji?"

"Yes."

He whistled. "No wonder he could go toe to toe with Jimbei if he hits that hard. Where the hell did he come from?"

"Over the side of the ship." Marco pointed, "Rushed you. Guess he was the one watching you all day, yoi. Took your axe and... I'll see if Namur'll fish it out if Oyaji pops him in the ocean."

"Thanks. I like that one. Balance is just right." He rubbed his head. "I'm going to go get a drink and lay down. My head's killing me."

"Go get it checked out first!" Marco shouted after him. He waved, letting the other know that he'd heard the resident mother hen, but knew better than to argue. His head hurt too much for that anyway.

Marco Thatch

"I saw that, actually!" Thatch grinned, pouring the last of the saké into two shots. "Man, he was swinging that axe like a pro. So it was Jozu's huh? I'm surprised he could lift it. Haki?"

"Nope. I thought it might be at first too. Subconsciously at least. Kid's a monster, though. He was using pure brute strength. He's gonna be something else when he starts to use it. Worries me a bit, yoi." Marco, paused, staring at his liquor. "Not as much as him attacking people. He laid Jozu out cold for a moment, Thatch. Little harder and he'd've killed him...not to mention going after Oyaji while his back was turned like that."

"Eh, Oyaji was fine."

"That's besides the point and you know it. It's just wrong. Next thing you know, he'll try poison or..." Both men froze before the mad and only slightly inebriated dash out the door took them down the hall at record speeds to Haruta's door. The two of them pounded a loud and uneven tempo of the solid wood, waking their fellow commander. When their sister opened the door with a wordless snarl she already had her sword drawn and Marco spoke fast before she stabbed him. Haruta did not like being woken up. "Where's Ace?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?!" She snapped at him. "It''s one in the goddamn morning, Marco! What the fuck are you even doing?"

Thatch slammed a palm against the door, preventing her from shutting it in their faces, "Haruta, please. It's important."

She looked between them exasperatedly before glancing at the small port window. "What do you even need him for at this hour?"

"Just need to find him before he does something stupid."

"A little late for that..." she chewed her lip, "You didn't hear it from me, but on a nice night like this, he's probably on the deck somewhere where the person on watch can't spot him."

"Well, that narrows it down to about half the deck at least." Thatch sighed, "Thanks, Haruta."

The deck was quiet at such an early hour. The few on watch offered lazy waves as the two combed every inch of the open space as a team. The last thing either of them wanted was to end up jumped by their quarry, especially after a night of drinking. The night was pleasant enough that he wished he could just forget what they were doing out there and maybe clamber up to the crowsnest to enjoy the view and hunt for the brat in the morning. The problem was they couldn't take that kind of risk, and judging by Thatch's face, he knew it, too.

At first Marco couldn't tell why Stefan was so far away from the shed-like room next to the captain's quarters that was his dog house. Usually the large canine spent the evening sleeping as close as he could to his master, even slipping in to lay on Oyaji's feet if someone forgot to close the door all the way. When the dog shifted he noticed the beast had somehow gotten a hold of a reasonable size sea-king fin that he was chewing on. A spit of flame and the smell of cooked meat told him not only where the fin had come from but also where Ace was. Thatch apparently noticed at the same time and with a grumble made to storm across the deck. Marco held up an arm, stopping Thatch before he could run out and possibly startle the logia user. After a few heated hand gestures the two of them watched as the teen settled against Stefan's flank, the white dog still chewing away on what remained of his midnight snack. Calmly and purposefully the two made their way across the deck. As they drew nearer, Marco noticed that Stefan looked whiter than normal in the moonlight. Normally at night the beast took on a sort of dull grimy grey color since he rarely got a good bath or a brushing. That, coupled with how calm the dog was with the teen's presence told him exactly who'd taken care of that little issue. At least there wasn't fur floating everywhere now. One floppy ear raised and the dog looked up, fin held between his paws. Thatch snorted next to him, and even Marco had to smile. Stefan somehow now had a mustache. When he realized who they were (the idiots usually suckered into feeding him) he went back to his toy, allowing them to approach with no fuss.

Ace must have heard them, though. He didn't even jump, instead elbowing the white fur he was resting on. "Traitor."

"Hey! That should be our line." Thatch grumbled.

"Ch. What the hell do you two want?"

Marco leaned back, arms resting against the rail and legs crossed at the ankles as he looked down at Portgas. The young man glared right back at him, the remnants of both his stolen meal and his catch on the deck between them. He wondered where he'd learned to make a fishing pole out of a rope, a knife, and what looked like one of Oyaji's IV stands. It probably was better not to ask though, since he doubted he'd get a straight answer right now and it would just distract him from the point at hand. Thatch was busy giving Sefan a hurt look as the mustached dog growled at him under his breath, unwilling to give up his prize or leave his new friend's side. At length the fourth division commander sighed in defeat and joined him, hopping up onto the rail. Marco didn't know if Ace was just oblivious to the powerplay, or honestly didn't care that they were literally in a higher position, looking down on him. There was nothing to give away his thoughts on the freckled face. It was definitely more than a little unnerving to have some punk completely disregard two division commanders like that. Then again, this was the idiot who was constantly trying to kill Oyaji.

Thatch leaned in, looking down at the makeshift pole and sheet that was apparently going to be used as a blanket. "So, do you sleep out in the open like this every night?"

"Why the hell do you care?" Ace growled.

"It's just a question." Thatch shrugged harmlessly. "I mean, damn, we were in a winter zone a few days ago. I know Oyaji keeps it from storming on us for the most part, but still. You had to have been freezing out here on the deck." Marco hadn't actually thought of that.

"Wouldn't be the first time I slept in piss poor conditions. I got a few places to crash if it gets too nasty on deck. Ain't telling you assholes anything else."

Thatch had that slightly strained smile on his face now. The one that said he was getting annoyed. "Hey now, there's no reason to be like that. We're just trying to have a friendly chat here."

"Well that's fascinating." Ace sneered at them, "Especially since we aren't friends."

"That's your doing." Thatch snapped back. "Not ours!"

"I don't need any friends." The words sounded tough, but Marco didn't believe them for a second. From what he heard from the former Spade Pirates though, their Captain had always been like that. He'd held himself apart from his own crew despite being willing to go to any lengths for them. "Sure as hell not on this ship."

He decided a change in tactics was in order and got right to the point. "Mind telling me what you were doing in the pantry earlier?"

"Stealing food." He was completely unabashed as he leveled a challenging glare at the two of them.

"Was that all you were doing in there?"

He blinked, if anything glaring harder. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"What Thatch wants to ask is were you maybe poisoning the food, yoi?"

"WHAT?! Why the hell would I do something stupid like that?! I steal out of there! That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard!"

"I thought you wanted to take Oyaji's head." Thatch clarified. "You keep trying everything else."

"Well, yeah! But poison doesn't prove I'm strong, now does it? Doesn't take a genius to put arsenic in someone's saké, or cyanide in the soup. I wanna take him out fair and square, no one bitching that it was just a bad meal."

That pissed Marco off. He lifted Ace by the shirt collar, eliciting a matched set of growls from both him and the dog he'd been leaning against and held him up at eye level. His normally sleepy gaze was replaced with anger and he shook the brat hard, silencing both and sending Stefan slinking away. Portgas wasn't so easily cowed (not that he'd expect him to be, he was a pirate after all) and continued to glare at him, hand reaching for the dagger on his belt calmly. He didn't struggle, didn't shout or beg. He was ready to fight, though.

"How is attacking Oyaji when his is back turned fair? HUH?!" Marco shook him again. "Where's your pride, you ungrateful brat."

"I never asked to be on this damn ship!"

"Well you are!" Marco would tell him if he wanted off he could leave, but he knew that Oyaji wouldn't allow it. Not yet, at least. He still claimed that there was something about the boy he liked. "Deal with it!"

"How the hell is that fair? Your damn Captain kidnapped me!" Brat had a point. Marco was going to ignore it. "If the old guy can't handle a surprise attack, then he doesn't deserve his title anyway!"

"What about Jozu? Did he deserve to be attacked out of the blue like that?" Marco shoved the teen, just missing getting sliced in the face by the knife. Ace stood there, hunched and ready to fight. "Don't mess with me, brat. It's a fight you can't win, and I won't be as forgiving as Oyaji about it."

Portgas darted forward, the knife a blur. Before Marco could think about plucking it out of the air and literally kicking the logia user's ass all over the deck a sword intercepted the shorter blade and sent it spinning through the air to land across the deck. Unable to stop his forward momentum, the teen found his legs swept out from under him by the second sword Thatch wielded and landed heavily on his rear where he sat for a moment with a wide eyed look of shock on his face. He didn't even seem to notice the sword pointed at his chest, even.

"How the hell did you do that?" Ace's question through them both off for a second.

"Ah, that's right, you don't know haki yet, do you, brat?" Thatch smirked, sheathing his swords and offering a hand to the kid.

Unsurprisingly Ace slapped the hand away and got to his feet on his own. He tried to glare, but the curiosity was evident in his body language. "Haki?"

"Let's see...it's like fighting spirit. With haki you can do all sorts of things. Hit a logia user with an attack, for example." Thatch grinned. "Well, there's a lot more to it than that, of course."

"Huh. Haki. That explains a lot." Ace nodded to himself. Marco did not like the look in his eyes at all.

"Haki is not going to help you take out Oyaji, yoi." The sheepish jump told him he was right on the money with that one. He didn't know if he should laugh at the tenacity or give into the building headache behind his eyes. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Never. Survival of the fittest, and he hasn't killed me yet."

The redhead openly gaped at the teen for a second before sputtering. "What the hell? The law of the jungle? Were you raised by wolves or something?"

"Bandits, sort of." Ace shrugged a shoulder.

"They were 'sort of bandits'?" Thatch looked at Marco in confusion. "How are you 'sort of' a bandit?" Marco just shrugged.

He rolled his eyes at them, "No you dumbass, they were bandits. Mountain bandits. Whole crew of them, real cut-throats, too. Even the dog was nasty. They just sort of raised us. Didn't want to. Couldn't blame them, either. Who needs more mouths to feed, right?"

"I guess that explains the attacking people." Muttered Thatch.

It did explain the blitz attacks. Bandits couldn't flee to the sea so they tended to be rougher with their victims than the average pirate, being more willing to fight fast and dirty to ensure they wouldn't be followed. "How old were you when they put you to work?"

"Huh?" The teen seemed confused for a moment. "I was never a bandit." He considered that a moment and rectified the statement. "We stole and shit, but we never shared that stuff with the bandits."

"What did you do with the stuff you stole?"

Ace looked at Thatch like he was nuts. "Saved it of course. Bought a boat when I turned seventeen and set sail. Left half the treasure for Luffy to use, fair split."

"So the stealing food...?" Marco prompted even as he tried to figure out who Luffy could be.

"Grew up hungry. Don't contribute, don't eat. Bandit rules. You get a bowl of rice if you don't pull your weight. We'd bring in dinner, but even then a wild boar only splits so many ways. So we improvised."

"That is the saddest thing ever!" Thatch sniffed dramatically. "That's why you wouldn't take the meal I brought you. Oh...You poor brat! Come with me to the kitchen tomorrow and wash dishes or something so you can eat your fill for a change."

"What the hell is your problem?" Ace snapped back. "Why the fuck would I want to help out on this damn ship in the first place? Are you insane?"

Marco held up a hand to forestall a fight. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, since Thatch would generally be smart enough to figure out that if he left a good plate or two of food unattended near Ace now, it was basically guaranteed no one else would eat it and the brat would think he'd scored someone's lunch. He'd cut his friend a little slack since it was really late and Thatch was a tad wobbly on his legs. That had been some excellent saké.

"Alright, enough you too." The first division commander turned a lazy eye to the now yawning teen. He noticed Stefan had at some point slinked back and way laying down near the blanket, suggesting the two had been spending nights sleeping curled up together. It was almost cute, but he wouldn't admit that. (Well, not to anyone but Oyaji, and only then in private.) Using his foot, he flipped the makeshift fishing pole into his hand. "What I don't get is why you hoard all this junk."

"It's not junk! It's perfectly useful stuff! All you have to do is fix it up a little bit and you can use it." Ace snapped back. "The people at gray terminal would give their right arm for half this stuff. I could trade this pole and be set for weeks, you know."

Thatch raised an eyebrow. "Gray terminal?"

"Dump I used to hang out in with my brother."

"You grew up in a dump?" Marco blinked at the kid, starting to feel a little more understanding about his weirdness.

"No." Well, so much for that. Except with Portgas it was hard to tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. "I grew up in a mountain forest. With tigers, bears, crocs and boars. Oh, and wolves, but they were more annoying than anything else."

"And you'd go to the dump to hang out?" Thatch sounded horrified. "Why?"

"Because." A shrug and another yawn. "I dunno. Fights? Found some cool shit there."

Marco sighed, knowing they weren't going to get anything else out of the teen since he was practically asleep on his feet. In fact, he wondered if he'd even remember the conversation in the morning, he looked so tired. He gave Ace a light shove over to where the dog was already sprawled out in blissful sleep. "Get some rest, brat. You're dead on your feet."

For once Portgas didn't argue, instead stumbling over to Stefan and collapsing, instantly asleep. Thatch looked down at the snoring youth before picking up the blanket and tossing it over him. "I still don't get the brat at all."

"Same here, yoi."

"No, really Marco. Right now I'm torn between wanting to give him a hug and fucking throttling him for all the shit he's caused. He's a mess."

He draped an arm around his friend's shoulders. "He'll fit right in, then."

"I hate it when Oyaji is right."

"No you don't. You're just drunk. Come on, let's get you to bed. Be thankful you're not on the morning crew, right?"

Thatch smirked. "I'm not...but you are, aren't you?"

"...That brat is nothing but trouble, yoi."

A few quick notes about the order of the three tales Marco and Thatch swap. First being they obviously don't know all the details, it's all secondhand information for them. The more important note for you all is the order, though I'm sure you could work it out. Visa and Izo find out about Ace's hoarding habits first. Izo had noticed Ace picking up random stuff almost from day one. Haruta saw Ace pull a vanishing act three or so days after the two of them had found Ace's stash of 'junk' (when Izo decided Ace needed a 'woman's' touch and fixed his clothes). I'd say maybe a week and a half later Juzo learned the hard way that Ace was really good at sneaking around and would attack people from behind (or in this case from the side). This would all take place within the first few months of Ace being on the Moby Dick.

Prompts were

Only eating a small amount of food when given it and being suspicious of it.

Stealing food

Staying out of sight/ hiding and appearing when it's least expected.

Hoarding seemingly useless junk.

Attacking people when their backs are turned