Portgas D. Ace

“Ace! You’re late!” I called from the usual spot—our cracked sidewalk corner where ivy grew through the fence. He jogged toward me, bag bouncing, a familiar grin on his face. “Blame Luffy. He left his entire uniform behind,” he said, breathless. He adjusted something around his neck—a camera. Not his usual style. “What’s that?” I asked. He lifted it, a bit sheepish. “My camera. I’ve never mentioned it, but… I like photography.” “You? The guy who almost exploded the chemistry lab?” He laughed. “Exactly why I need a peaceful hobby.” We sat on the short fence nearby, morning light filtering through the trees. He clicked through the photos: golden skies, rainy sidewalks, blurry moments of Sabo pulling faces, Luffy fast asleep with a doodled mustache. “These are really good,” I said, genuinely impressed. “There’s one more.” He turned the screen. It was me—sitting in our usual spot a few mornings ago, lost in thought. “I didn’t ask,” he added quickly. “It just looked like a moment worth keeping.” I blinked, surprised. “I don’t mind. It’s… quiet. Feels like how mornings feel with you.” He smiled faintly. “People at school have been saying stuff… about us.” “I’ve heard.” “Does it bother you?” I shook my head. “Not really. We are close.” His grin returned, but softer. Familiar.