Whitebeard stood on the deck of the ship. Behind him was Thatch, who had brought Ace up with him.
“Hang on, Ace! You asked me to bring you to Pops because you had business to discuss with him. You didn’t say anything about this, though,” said Thatch, aghast.
“I’m not going to ruin your honor. I mean to do exactly as I just said.” Ace stared up at Whitebeard.
Thatch ran his hands over his head in consternation, but did his best to sum it all up. “So let me get this straight, Ace… You said you owe Pops a debt. What debt is that?”
“You fed my crewmates.”
“You’ve been eating too,” Thatch pointed out.
Ace continued, scratching his head awkwardly. “My point is, it’s honest work for a debt incurred! I’ll repay the favor! I’ll work off what I’ve eaten! That’s…that’s how I’ve lived, ever since I was a kid. I don’t know any other way to do things.”
In other words, he’d made up his mind to do the right thing—he just wasn’t quite clear on how to do it.
“So…you’re joining us, then? You’re going to be Pops’ son?”
“No.”
“What? You’re not?”
“I’m…I’m repaying my debt! I can’t dishonor the code in front of my crew! So put me to work,” said Ace. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, exactly, so he left it up to Whitebeard.
“Work? What can you do? Are you going to perform odd jobs on deck? A rookie worth nine digits?” wondered Thatch.
“That’s not going to pay for the cost of my meals,” Ace told him. “I want to work. I want to work enough that you’ll owe me, Whitebeard.”
“Owe you? What are you hoping to do by putting Pops in debt to you?” Thatch asked.
“When he owes me, then I’ll collect. That’s the code, isn’t it? So when that happens, Whitebeard…I’ll demand a duel with you.”
“Huh?”
He’d rendered Thatch speechless. Ace still wanted to go after Whitebeard’s head. He just wasn’t going to be scheming sneak attacks around the clock anymore. The duel would only come when Ace had earned the favor.
Whitebeard mulled over this idea. “Is that so?” he asked.
“It is so.”
“All right, deal. Was that all?”
“Wait…wait, wait, wait! Hold on, Ace! You too, Pops! Just because you accept this doesn’t mean I will! How many dozens of times has Pops flattened you by now? Why don’t you wise up and…”
“The deal’s done,” Ace said, cutting him off. “What would you have me do?”
“Go on and wash some dishes, fireball boy. And sooner or later, I’ll give you a bigger job to do…Gura ra ra ra,” Whitebeard chuckled as he vanished into his cabin.
Ace watched him go with a deadly serious look on his face.
And Thatch simply looked lost. “Ahh, that’s right. You might be an idiot, Ace…but Pops is an idiot when it comes to pirates, too…”
“You heard what we said. This is a challenge between me and Whitebeard. I need you to be our witness, Thatch.”
“Sounds like I’m getting a raw deal here. But if it’s gonna be a duel, there are some rules. Pops’s head won’t come cheap,” said Thatch. He thought it over, then continued, “First of all, you can only challenge him to a duel when he agrees to it. And if you die as a result, that’s on you. Also…”
“Hey, Thatch!” Whitebeard emerged out of his cabin again.
“Yes, Pops? What is it?”
“He’s an official guest of the crew now. You’ll be responsible for him.”
“Me? G-great…”
“On the other hand…you’re in charge of our kitchen too. So I’ll put someone else in charge of giving him work. How about Teech? He’s an old salt, so he knows the way we do things,” said Whitebeard.
And with that, he retreated to his cabin again.
✦ ✦ ✦
Did you hear that? Fire Fist is our guest now.
What does Pops think he’s doing?
Thatch is the one responsible, but it’s Teech who’s taking care of him…
Portgaz D. Ace was the indisputable topic of conversation for the Whitebeard Pirates during this time. He clearly had a screw loose based on the fact that he wanted a one-on-one duel with Whitebeard. And now he was going to make a name for himself with the crew, just for the opportunity to have that duel?
What in the world could it mean?
“Our crew doesn’t really sweat the small details. If there’s any question, just follow the code, Pops says. Of course, he’s the one who will decide what the code is. He gave you the go-ahead, so no one here’s gonna complain about your duel,” said Teech, Ace’s handler.
But what was he “handling,” exactly? Ace washed dishes, scrubbed the deck, and hung up the laundry, and Teech gave him no instruction or advice at any point. He just scarfed food and scratched his ass.
If he challenges Pops a hundred times and still doesn’t win, Ace is gonna wear our flag!
How many times has he lost already?!
Rumors swirled around the Moby Dick. In the mess hall, Ace complained to the head cook.
“What do they mean, a hundred times? I don’t remember attaching any conditions like that.”
“Of course you don’t. I spread that part,” Thatch said as he prepared a dish. He had added a number of conditions to the duel with Whitebeard, apparently. “A competition’s got to have proper terms and limits, after all. You can’t say it’ll happen ten years later just because you feel like it.”
The terms Thatch had cooked up were all over the ship by now. It was common knowledge to the crew, and they expected those rules to be followed.
“I never said that I’d capitulate and join Whitebeard.”
“Well, his head’s not gonna come that cheap… Besides, if you can’t win in a hundred tries, you’re not going to win in a thousand. Here, light the pot.”
Ace started a fire out of sheer frustration—using his Flame-Flame powers, of course.
“Oooh, that’s nice. The most important thing for a wok is the heat! Hey, Ace…if you do join our crew, come to the Fourth Division. I’ll craft you into a first-rate flame cook.”
“Very funny.”