The trill of the Den Den Mushi was a jarring, mechanical contrast to the rhythmic lapping of the tides. Maye felt the vibration in her pocket and slipped away from the campfire, weaving through the giant, waxy leaves of the jungle until the raucous laughter of the Whitebeard pirates was a distant hum. She clicked the receiver. Sabo's voice came through, thick with static and the weight of forbidden knowledge. "Maye, listen carefully," he began, his tone lacking its usual revolutionary bravado. "I've been scouring the oldest records in the Baltigo archives. The entity that brought you back... the 'Watcher'... she isn't merciful. You aren't just 'alive' again, Maye. You are an anomaly held together by the Sanguine Anchor. That pendant isn't jewellery; it's a soul-seal. If it leaves your neck, the sea will recognize the debt of your life as unpaid. A storm will come, and the ocean will reclaim you instantly." Maye reached up, her fingers trembling as they brushed the cool ruby. "And the memories, Sabo? They're coming back. You said yours felt like hot needles in your brain... but mine don't. They feel like... like coming home." There was a long pause on the other end. "That shouldn't be happening," Sabo whispered. "The records say the 'Anchor' usually hollows the person out. But you have something the texts don't account for. You have Ace. His spirit is wreathed in the same 'Fire' that burned through your history. He is your tether, Maye. Without him, the act of remembering would be an agonizing torture that would eventually shatter your mind. He's the reason the 'Fog' is turning into light instead of glass." "He's my Lode," Maye breathed, her heart hammering. "Exactly. I'm heading to a site in the New World to see if I can find a way to make this permanent. Until then, don't leave his side. He is the only thing keeping you from the dark." The line went dead. Maye leaned against a mossy tree trunk, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her. She was living on borrowed time, a ghost tethered to reality by a stone and a man. Suddenly, the smell of the jungle faded. The humidity turned into the crisp, salty air of the Moby Dick.
Memory: Three Years Ago
The moon was a sliver of ice in the sky. On the main deck, the shadows were long. Ace was slumped against the railing, his hat pulled low over his eyes. It was his hundredth failed attempt to take Whitebeard's head, and the frustration was radiating off him like a physical heat. He looked defeated, small, and profoundly lonely. Maye walked over, her boots silent on the wood, and slid down to sit cross-legged beside him. For a long time, they just watched the wake of the ship. "Why did you join him?" Ace asked suddenly, his voice rough and hollow. "Why do you stay with that old man?" "Because I was a stray," Maye said softly. "He found me in the wreckage of a burned-out port. He gave me a name and a seat at the table. He became the father I never had."
Ace flinched, his jaw tightening. The word 'father' was a poisoned arrow to him. He stared out at the black water, his gaze distant and haunted. "I don't know why I'm even alive, Maye. I don't know what my purpose is. To be a curse? To be a shadow of a man I hate?" Maye looked at him, really looked at him and saw the same emptiness she had felt when she lost her own parents at birth. "I don't know mine either, Ace. We're just two drifting sparks." Ace turned his head then. The moonlight caught the raw, overwhelming vulnerability in his eyes. He tried to smirk, to be the cocky rookie he pretended to be, but the mask slipped. "Liar," he whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying sincerity. "I know your purpose. Your purpose is to make me laugh when I want to scream, to smack me when I'm being a dumbass, and hopefully... never leave my side. With you, Maye... my life doesn't need a grand meaning. You make a dark world look colorful." Maye's breath hitched. Her heart hammered so hard she thought it might break her ribs. She felt herself blushing a deep, incandescent red. "That... that was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard," she teased, though her voice was thick with emotion. "You're a real poet when you're sulking."
Present Day: The Island
Maye snapped out of the memory, a single, hot tear rolling down her cheek. The "Fog" was gone. The bridge was built. She understood now, it wasn't just that she needed him to stay alive; she wanted him with a ferocity that defied death itself. She stood up and marched back toward the camp. Marco, who was busy roasting a marshmallow, looked up and saw the expression on her face. It wasn't the look of a confused amnesiac. It was the look of a Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. "Maye? What's wrong-yoi?" Marco called out, his playful demeanor shifting into concern. She didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. She walked straight past the cheering pirates and the crackling fires, her eyes locked on Ace. He was standing by the shoreline, still pretending to check the "barnacles" to avoid the crew's teasing. Ace sensed her coming. He turned around, his expression shifting from embarrassment to immediate worry when he saw her intensity. "Maye? Are you okay? Did something happen? Is there an enemy—"
Maye didn't let him finish. She came to a halt right in his face, her chest heaving. She looked up at him, a half-frown and a fierce scowl on her face. "You are a real dumbass," she snapped.
Ace blinked, completely thrown. "What? Maye, I—" She didn't give him a second to breathe. She reached up, grabbed the string of his orange hat, and pulled him down with a strength that brooked no argument. She kissed him. It wasn't a soft, hesitant "first" kiss. It was a claim. It was the collision of fire and blood, a desperate, soul-searing re-connection that tasted of salt, sun, and a year of stolen time. Behind them, the entire camp went deathly silent. A marshmallow fell from Marco's stick and sizzled in the fire. Rakuyo's jaw dropped so low it hit his chest. Ace's eyes went wide, his brain short-circuiting for exactly one second before his hands found her waist, pulling her flush against his bare chest as he kissed her back with a hunger that could have leveled the island. The "Sanguine Anchor" flared a brilliant, blinding crimson against her chest, pulsing in perfect, triumphant sync with the heart of the man who had brought her home.