con fuoco - chapter two (pt 1)
Title: con fuoco
first movement, chapter two, 'bene placito'
Info: One Piece fanfiction, around 5000 words
Rating: T
Pairing: SmokerxAce and other pairings on the side
Summary: [Alternate Universe] Smoker is a conductor with an ear for talent, and Ace is a gifted pianist that has never played at a large scale performance.
--
FIRST MOVEMENT
"Music is to me the perfect expression of the soul." (Robert Schumann)
--
Bene Placito
at will, at pleasure
--
“Music is what life sounds like.” (Eric Olson)
--
It was a month before the concert’s scheduled date when Hina handed Smoker the phone with a sour expression on her face. A few minutes later, after many guilt-ridden apologies and incoherent explanations, Smoker hung up and stormed back to his office in a foul mood.
Tashigi had broken her arm.
Really, it hadn’t even been her fault. According to the pianist, she had been late for an appointment and was rushing down the stairs when somebody accidentally bumped into her. Frankly speaking, Smoker was relieved that Tashigi had gotten away with just a broken arm after tumbling down three flights of stairs. But even though it wasn’t her fault, Tashigi was still the soloist and her fiasco left Smoker cursing in his office. How was he supposed to find a replacement?
“Smoker, Hina’s coming in,” said a voice that he really didn’t want to hear at that moment.
“Hina, go away, I’m busy,” Smoker grumbled, stabbing a pile of paperwork with the capped end of a ballpoint pen.
“My, my, Smoker is in such a bad mood,” Hina remarked dryly. She handed Smoker some coffee which he accepted silently. After waiting a moment, she asked, “Hina wonders what Smoker is going to do about Tashigi.”
“It’s obvious that she’s not going to be able to play,” Smoker responded gruffly, gripping the mug tightly. “Even if she heals before her performance, her fingers won’t be able to play that fast. Not practicing for weeks will make her fingers stiff.” He scowled darkly at the steaming brown liquid before finishing the rest of it.
“Is Smoker going to cancel the piece?” Hina inquired with a sigh, idly twirling a few strands of her long pink hair.
“I’m going to have to,” Smoker said exasperatedly, taking out and lighting two cigars. Hearing no objections (which he wouldn’t have listened to anyways), he clamped his teeth over his two stress-relievers. Despite comments about killing himself four times as quickly, Smoker had fallen into the habit of smoking two cigars at once when feeling strained. Logically speaking he should’ve been smoking three at that moment, but that was a bit of overkill.
“Hina thinks you should do that too,” Hina agreed. “After all, Hina thinks that the chances of finding a replacement by now are impossible. Smoker’s pretty screwed.”
“Thanks Hina,” Smoker muttered, puffing smoke discreetly in her direction. “And why do you never talk properly?”
“Hina doesn’t know what Smoker is referring to.”
“Smoker thinks that Hina really does and is just being an idiot.”
“Hina wonders why Smoker is referring to himself by name.”
“Alright, I’ll drop the subject, but just because you’re too mentally challenged to understand me.”
“Although she really shouldn’t after all those nasty insults, Hina wishes Smoker luck. If you need suggestions for a program change, Hina has some.” Hina walked to the door and slowly shook her head. “It’s too bad that there’s only one month left. Nobody in their right mind would learn to play a concerto in that amount of time and then perform it.” And then she left the room, leaving Smoker to mull over possible solutions to his problem.
A loud exclamation asking whether or not anybody wanted tea and crackers made Smoker accidentally knock his empty mug over. He frowned and muttered curses about brain-damaged old men, picking up his cup. Smoker snorted when several, notably much quieter, voices begged Garp to lower the volume, as if that would ever happen. The tea-and-crackers interrogation was practically a routine by now, and when Smoker glanced at his watch, it was exactly 4:00pm. Right on time. The man was insane.
A thought suddenly occurred to Smoker, and he promptly grabbed his jacket and headed for the parking lot where his now-functioning motorcycle was. As disturbing as the idea was, Hina and Garp had cooperatively given him a possible solution that was not half bad, and by talking.
Nobody in their right mind, Hina’s voice echoed in his head as he started his bike, would learn to play a concerto in that amount of time and then perform it.
Fortunately, he knew a couple of Garp-clones that were definitely not in their right minds.
--
“You’re looking for Ace? He’s not here right now,” said a thin, blonde-haired man dressed in a suit. He raised a strangely curled eyebrow at Smoker who stood outside the apartment door.
“Oh,” Smoker said. “Then… is Straw Ha - Luffy here?”
“Hang on a second.” The man turned around and hollered “LUFFY! SOMEONE IS HERE TO SEE YOU!”
Sure enough, Luffy sprang to the doorway and poked his head out to see who was there. Seeing Smoker’s face, he exclaimed, “Oh, it’s Ace’s boyfriend! Let him in, Sanji!”
“I’m not Portgas’ boyfriend,” Smoker stated firmly, determined to wipe the stunned expression off of Sanji’s face. “The idiot just assumed that I was after we met for the first time. Like I would ever date his brother,” he scoffed. “They’re both too damn weird.”
“True,” Sanji muttered. Smoker walked into the apartment and noticed that there were many people inside. At that moment, it looked as if Luffy had done something incredibly stupid in an incredibly short amount of time (well, it was Luffy…), and an angry, petite young woman with orange hair was repeatedly punching him. Luffy noticed him and quickly seized the opportunity to escape his beating.
“Smokey!” Luffy yelped, successfully interrupting the young woman’s fists. “These are my friends! Meet Zoro-”, he pointed to a green-haired man snoring on the couch, “Nami-, ”he pointed to the female who had been hitting him, “Usopp-”, a long-nosed young man cowering in corner whom Smoker hadn’t noticed, “Sanji-”, the man who had opened the door, “Chopper-”, a small boy with a pink top hat unsuccessfully hiding behind a lamp, “Robin-”, a dark-haired woman who was reading the newspaper, “Franky-”, the ridiculously dressed, or rather, even-less-dressed-than-Portgas man drinking cola, “and Brooke,” he said, waving an arm at the very tall and skinny man with a large afro. “They’re in my band!”
“Your band,” Smoker stated dryly.
“Yeah!” Luffy cheered. “We’re the Straw Hats!”
Smoker wanted to smack himself on the forehead after hearing such a ridiculous name. You’ve got to be kidding me.
The woman named Nami noticed his facial expression and sighed before explaining. “Sadly, his name was the best one,” she said irately, rolling her eyes. “Zoro wanted ‘Death by Swordsmen Times Three’, Usopp wanted ‘the Great Captain Usopp’s Band of Awesome’, Sanji wanted ‘Two Gorgeous Women and I Plus Some Idiots’, Franky wanted ‘Mach 5 Lions of Doom Version 2000’ and Brooke wanted ‘Panties Please’. It was ridiculous,” she snorted, eyeing her companions distastefully. “Only Robin and Chopper aren’t stupid.”
“Oh, Nami, you’re so beautiful when you’re angry!” Sanji exclaimed, wiggling in a boneless fashion.
“Yes, yes, now go away and do something useful,” Nami responded tiredly.
“Right away! I will now go cook delicious meals for my precious Nami and Robin!” Sanji then pirouetted and twirled into the kitchen, remarkably missing all obstacles along the way there.
Impressive, Smoker thought, but highly disturbing. “Luffy, where’s your brother?” Smoker asked, wishing very, very hard that he could leave quickly.
“Hmm? Oh, he’s at school,” Luffy replied as if it was very obvious.
Zoro woke up and stretched. “What’s going on?” he muttered sleepily. After a brief explanation from Nami, he asked Smoker, “So you want to go see Ace, right?” Seeing the older man nod, Zoro said, “Well, does he know how to get to Ace’s school?” He yawned widely, earrings making small jingling noises.
“I’ll give him directions; you’ll just get him lost,” Nami snorted. “Grand Line is ridiculously difficult to find if you don’t have specific directions, so I’ll write them down for you.” She took a pen and a piece of paper from the table and began neatly drawing Smoker a map while verbally clarifying some areas. After a few minutes, Smoker thanked her and left.
“Who was that?” Robin asked suddenly, serenely flipping a page. “He never introduced himself.”
“Oh, he’s Ace’s boyfriend,” Luffy stated, making Franky accidentally spew cola all over Robin’s newspaper.
--
Smoker decided that he’d have to thank Nami again at another time, for the woman was correct in saying that Grand Line University, although very large, was difficult to locate. He would have gotten lost if he hadn’t had Nami’s detailed map, or if he had gotten more faulty instructions from Garp. The university was a bit strange-looking; the buildings had different architectures and the plants outside seemed jumbled as well. However, even though buildings were randomly placed, the whole area gave off a unique and not entirely unpleasant feel.
Remembering the large tattoo and Ace’s personal mention, Smoker decided to look for Professor Whitebeard first, then Ace, since it seemed more logical. After asking around, he went to an austere looking building painted brightly white. Apparently, that was where the piano instructors taught. Smoker also overheard that many students had dubbed the place ‘The Moby Dick’. Witty.
Luckily, Smoker didn’t have to search long. He easily found Ace wearing his hat-beacon on a bench outside ‘The Moby Dick’. Unfortunately, the freckled man was snoring away, and no matter how many times Smoker prodded or kicked him he stayed stubbornly fast asleep.
“Idiot, wake up,” Smoker mumbled, giving Ace another kick for good measure. He stood there for a moment, deep in thought until he had an idea. “Portgas, if you don’t get up now, Luffy will eat all your food,” he said, trying to summon the most threatening tone he had in his arsenal (and he had many).
Ace twitched and abruptly sat upright, staring around bewilderedly, and rapidly saying “Food… Luffy… mine…” until he realized Smoker was in front of him. “Whoa…” he said, blinking. “Hi there, Mr. Smoker… I didn’t expect to see you. How’d you get here?”
“One of your brother’s friends gave me directions,” Smoker said gruffly, sitting down next to Ace, slightly surprised that the younger man had remembered his name.
“… Nami?” Ace wondered out loud. Seeing Smoker nod, he mumbled, “That makes sense; they were supposed to meet at our apartment today…”
“Isn’t school over by now?” Smoker asked after a moment of silence..
“Oh, I have a practical exam,” Ace answered. “Technically, it was supposed to be yesterday, but I had to do the retake.” Ace didn’t say anything further so Smoker decided not to ask for details. “So…” Ace drawled, turning to face his impromptu visitor. “Why are you here? Aren’t you too old to go back to school? How old are you anyways?”
Smoker chose to ignore the inquiry about his age and answered, “I’m here because Luffy told me you were at school.” Ace looked a bit nonplussed at that, so Smoker paused before continuing. “Do you recall Tashigi?”
“You mean that cute girl whom you were cheating on me with?” Ace said jokingly. Smoker glared at him and Ace laughed. “Ah, yeah, I know who you’re talking about. She squashed me, remember? Why are you asking?”
“She fell down the stairs of her apartment,” Smoker said, sighing.
Ace’s mouth dropped open. “Is she okay?” he asked, concerned. “Did she get hurt badly?”
“Miraculously, she broke her arm instead of her neck,” Smoker replied.
“Well, it sucks that Tashigi broke her arm,” Ace frowned. “I broke my arm once when I was younger and it was really annoying. I couldn’t do anything for weeks,” he ranted, scowling at the recollection. “I had to write with my left hand and I couldn’t play piano…” Then Ace suddenly remembered something Smoker had said before he had left Ace’s apartment weeks ago. Tashigi, memory-Smoker said with irritation, is the pianist for the concert I’m conducting at, you fool…
“The concert…” Ace mumbled quietly. “Did it… happen yet…?” When Smoker shook his head, Ace paled. “No,” Ace said firmly. “I can’t. You… you know I’m narcoleptic and you’re still asking me?” Ace was tempted to add “Are you bloody insane?” but opted not to, since Smoker would hear the unasked question through his tone of voice anyways.
“Yes, I’m still asking you,” Smoker said. Seeing Ace start to argue, he interrupted quickly, “Shut up. Just listen to me. I’ll make it short.”
Ace raised a thin eyebrow and folded his arms, his face wearing an it-better-be-good expression. “Fine, I’m listening,” he said, glowering.
“Good,” Smoker grumbled. “There’s only one month until the concert. Tashigi will not be ready in time, and nobody else will replace her at such short notice. You were the only person I could think of that might have agreed, so I asked you. If you refuse, I’ll have to cancel the piece and exchange it with something else. It’s really up to you,” Smoker finished, massaging his temples, trying to ward off an incoming headache.
Hesitantly, Ace asked, “… Which song was Tashigi playing?”
Smoker glanced at Ace and muttered, “Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major.” Since Ace said nothing afterwards, Smoker added, “It is less than twenty minutes, in case you were wondering, but only if you play fast enough. It was around fifteen when Tashigi was playing.”
“… I’ve heard it before,” Ace said slowly, chewing his lower lip (Smoker wondered idly whether or not it was an unconscious habit). “It’s… pretty well known. I’ve never played it before and it sounds… fiddly,” he concluded, wiggling his fingers quickly to clarify what he meant. “If I remember correctly, the last movement is pretty fast…”
“Hnn,” Smoker grunted in what Ace assumed to be agreement.
“… Did you really think I could learn something that quickly?” Ace asked in disbelief.
Smoker shrugged nonchalantly. “I could hope, right? You never really know for sure. I’ve only heard you play twice, and they were both songs you already knew. Even if you weren’t narcoleptic, it’s still risky asking you. But…” Smoker paused for a few seconds, and then said, “There really was nobody else but you, to be honest.”
Since Smoker isn’t the type that begs, Ace thought dryly, this will probably be the closest thing. Being a ‘last hope’ was a bit stressful… Ace had wanted to finally get his exams over with (especially after he fell asleep in the middle of Bach, which had been exceedingly embarrassing) and then enjoy a carefree summer. Then along came Smoker, proposing again that he play at a large scale concert, even after he had pretty explicitly said “no”. The fact that Smoker came back with such a tempting offer didn’t sit well with Ace’s pride…
Oh, screw my ego, Ace berated himself silently. I’ll never get to do this again, and I’d rather try it out with Smoker, who seems alright, than with grandpa. He had to suppress a shudder after imagining Garp bellowing on stage that Ace was his grandson and why, dang it, hadn’t he become a good, strong, conductor like he was, and on… and on… Then he’d say something about tea and crackers - he’d ask the audience if they wanted tea and crackers, he definitely would… Stop. Train. Of. Thought. Now.
Honestly speaking, every cell in Ace’s body was yelling “ACCEPT IT YOU MORON! ACCEPT HIS INVITATION!” at his indecisive brain. Oh, how he wanted to play so badly…! But then he’d inadvertently remember all the days he had keeled over in the middle of playing. His body was fickle; it didn’t care when or where, it just dozed off at random. Class? Okay. Conversation? Yup. Meals? Definitely. Exams? It just happened yesterday.
Concert?
Likely.
Ace just didn’t want to… ruin the song. Playing by himself was alright. After all, only he would suffer from it. But something like a concerto… if he screwed up, he screwed everyone else up. Why couldn’t Smoker just see that Ace could potentially throw him down a shit creek without a paddle or a lifejacket? Why couldn’t Smoker just leave him alone?!
“… um, I don’t think…” Ace started, trying to form a polite refusal when his tongue wanted to say “oh yes I’d love to make music with you”, which just sounded really awkward. Damn his body parts and their independence (especially his stomach and his mouth)!
Smoker sighed and stood up. “Portgas, I’m giving you three days,” he said with a tone of finality. “You decide in three days what you’re going to do. I’ll go to your apartment at around 9 o’clock in the morning and you’ll tell me what you decided. I don't care what the hell you pick. Neither matters to me,” he stated bluntly, glaring at Ace. “Just think things through. Pick what you want to do and stop worrying about random crap like what could go wrong or how it could affect other people. Just pick what you want, you idiot.” Smoker rolled his eyes and then walked away, leaving Ace to sit by himself and worry.
--
“Mr. Newgate?” Ace called from behind the door.
A large man with a white-haired moustache and beard glanced up from his desk and said, “Come in already.” As Ace entered the room slowly and seated himself across from him, Whitebeard said roughly, “Well, what did you want to see me for? School’s over for you, so it must be something important.”
“A conductor asked me to play at a concert as a replacement for the pianist who broke her arm,” Ace mumbled.
Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. “That’s good. So boy, why aren’t you happy? I know you’ve wanted to perform professionally for the longest time.”
“… It’s in a month,” Ace said quietly.
“That’s not what’s bothering you,” Whitebeard scoffed. He grabbed a few pills (blasted medication) and washed them down with a swig of water before glaring at Ace. “You’re crazy enough to actually pull it off if you wanted to. The question is why you’re so unenthusiastic about this,” he stated. After watching Ace shift anxiously in his seat and do the lip-biting thing he always did when uncomfortable, Whitebeard chuckled. “Oh, I see… you’re worried you’ll screw things up,” he said, shaking his head.
Ace winced and said, “Uh, yes, I am. For good reason.”
Whitebeard laughed again and stared evenly at Ace. “Son, did this person know you are narcoleptic?” When Ace nodded, the professor continued. “And they asked you regardless?” A pause, then another nod. “Then he just doesn’t care if you fall asleep,” Whitebeard concluded, scoffing. “Imbecile, the only thing stopping you is yourself. Only you care if you mess up. There’s no reason for you to be here asking for my advice,” Whitebeard declared. “Do whatever the hell you want.”
Whatever I want… Ace repeated to himself. He remembered a day countless years ago while he and Luffy still lived in the small house on Fuchsia Street. He remembered the red-haired man with his crazy laugh, glittering eyes and now familiar straw hat. He remembered Shanks playing the piano in Makino’s bar, and how he’d change from a childish alcoholic to a dignified and graceful artist. Ace remembered clearly the hands that flew across the keys and had long since memorized the songs he had heard him play, just so he could play them too. He remembered dreaming that someday he could play just like Shanks, and Luffy had wanted roughly the same thing… not quite, but fundamentally identical.
I want to play.
Whitebeard noticed Ace stopped biting his lip and said, “Why are you still in my office? Go home if you have nothing else to say.”
“Do you have the sheet music for Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G?” Ace demanded.
“You’re in luck, son.”
Next
Back to Chapter 1
first movement, chapter two, 'bene placito'
Info: One Piece fanfiction, around 5000 words
Rating: T
Pairing: SmokerxAce and other pairings on the side
Summary: [Alternate Universe] Smoker is a conductor with an ear for talent, and Ace is a gifted pianist that has never played at a large scale performance.
--
FIRST MOVEMENT
"Music is to me the perfect expression of the soul." (Robert Schumann)
--
Bene Placito
at will, at pleasure
--
“Music is what life sounds like.” (Eric Olson)
--
It was a month before the concert’s scheduled date when Hina handed Smoker the phone with a sour expression on her face. A few minutes later, after many guilt-ridden apologies and incoherent explanations, Smoker hung up and stormed back to his office in a foul mood.
Tashigi had broken her arm.
Really, it hadn’t even been her fault. According to the pianist, she had been late for an appointment and was rushing down the stairs when somebody accidentally bumped into her. Frankly speaking, Smoker was relieved that Tashigi had gotten away with just a broken arm after tumbling down three flights of stairs. But even though it wasn’t her fault, Tashigi was still the soloist and her fiasco left Smoker cursing in his office. How was he supposed to find a replacement?
“Smoker, Hina’s coming in,” said a voice that he really didn’t want to hear at that moment.
“Hina, go away, I’m busy,” Smoker grumbled, stabbing a pile of paperwork with the capped end of a ballpoint pen.
“My, my, Smoker is in such a bad mood,” Hina remarked dryly. She handed Smoker some coffee which he accepted silently. After waiting a moment, she asked, “Hina wonders what Smoker is going to do about Tashigi.”
“It’s obvious that she’s not going to be able to play,” Smoker responded gruffly, gripping the mug tightly. “Even if she heals before her performance, her fingers won’t be able to play that fast. Not practicing for weeks will make her fingers stiff.” He scowled darkly at the steaming brown liquid before finishing the rest of it.
“Is Smoker going to cancel the piece?” Hina inquired with a sigh, idly twirling a few strands of her long pink hair.
“I’m going to have to,” Smoker said exasperatedly, taking out and lighting two cigars. Hearing no objections (which he wouldn’t have listened to anyways), he clamped his teeth over his two stress-relievers. Despite comments about killing himself four times as quickly, Smoker had fallen into the habit of smoking two cigars at once when feeling strained. Logically speaking he should’ve been smoking three at that moment, but that was a bit of overkill.
“Hina thinks you should do that too,” Hina agreed. “After all, Hina thinks that the chances of finding a replacement by now are impossible. Smoker’s pretty screwed.”
“Thanks Hina,” Smoker muttered, puffing smoke discreetly in her direction. “And why do you never talk properly?”
“Hina doesn’t know what Smoker is referring to.”
“Smoker thinks that Hina really does and is just being an idiot.”
“Hina wonders why Smoker is referring to himself by name.”
“Alright, I’ll drop the subject, but just because you’re too mentally challenged to understand me.”
“Although she really shouldn’t after all those nasty insults, Hina wishes Smoker luck. If you need suggestions for a program change, Hina has some.” Hina walked to the door and slowly shook her head. “It’s too bad that there’s only one month left. Nobody in their right mind would learn to play a concerto in that amount of time and then perform it.” And then she left the room, leaving Smoker to mull over possible solutions to his problem.
A loud exclamation asking whether or not anybody wanted tea and crackers made Smoker accidentally knock his empty mug over. He frowned and muttered curses about brain-damaged old men, picking up his cup. Smoker snorted when several, notably much quieter, voices begged Garp to lower the volume, as if that would ever happen. The tea-and-crackers interrogation was practically a routine by now, and when Smoker glanced at his watch, it was exactly 4:00pm. Right on time. The man was insane.
A thought suddenly occurred to Smoker, and he promptly grabbed his jacket and headed for the parking lot where his now-functioning motorcycle was. As disturbing as the idea was, Hina and Garp had cooperatively given him a possible solution that was not half bad, and by talking.
Nobody in their right mind, Hina’s voice echoed in his head as he started his bike, would learn to play a concerto in that amount of time and then perform it.
Fortunately, he knew a couple of Garp-clones that were definitely not in their right minds.
--
“You’re looking for Ace? He’s not here right now,” said a thin, blonde-haired man dressed in a suit. He raised a strangely curled eyebrow at Smoker who stood outside the apartment door.
“Oh,” Smoker said. “Then… is Straw Ha - Luffy here?”
“Hang on a second.” The man turned around and hollered “LUFFY! SOMEONE IS HERE TO SEE YOU!”
Sure enough, Luffy sprang to the doorway and poked his head out to see who was there. Seeing Smoker’s face, he exclaimed, “Oh, it’s Ace’s boyfriend! Let him in, Sanji!”
“I’m not Portgas’ boyfriend,” Smoker stated firmly, determined to wipe the stunned expression off of Sanji’s face. “The idiot just assumed that I was after we met for the first time. Like I would ever date his brother,” he scoffed. “They’re both too damn weird.”
“True,” Sanji muttered. Smoker walked into the apartment and noticed that there were many people inside. At that moment, it looked as if Luffy had done something incredibly stupid in an incredibly short amount of time (well, it was Luffy…), and an angry, petite young woman with orange hair was repeatedly punching him. Luffy noticed him and quickly seized the opportunity to escape his beating.
“Smokey!” Luffy yelped, successfully interrupting the young woman’s fists. “These are my friends! Meet Zoro-”, he pointed to a green-haired man snoring on the couch, “Nami-, ”he pointed to the female who had been hitting him, “Usopp-”, a long-nosed young man cowering in corner whom Smoker hadn’t noticed, “Sanji-”, the man who had opened the door, “Chopper-”, a small boy with a pink top hat unsuccessfully hiding behind a lamp, “Robin-”, a dark-haired woman who was reading the newspaper, “Franky-”, the ridiculously dressed, or rather, even-less-dressed-than-Portgas man drinking cola, “and Brooke,” he said, waving an arm at the very tall and skinny man with a large afro. “They’re in my band!”
“Your band,” Smoker stated dryly.
“Yeah!” Luffy cheered. “We’re the Straw Hats!”
Smoker wanted to smack himself on the forehead after hearing such a ridiculous name. You’ve got to be kidding me.
The woman named Nami noticed his facial expression and sighed before explaining. “Sadly, his name was the best one,” she said irately, rolling her eyes. “Zoro wanted ‘Death by Swordsmen Times Three’, Usopp wanted ‘the Great Captain Usopp’s Band of Awesome’, Sanji wanted ‘Two Gorgeous Women and I Plus Some Idiots’, Franky wanted ‘Mach 5 Lions of Doom Version 2000’ and Brooke wanted ‘Panties Please’. It was ridiculous,” she snorted, eyeing her companions distastefully. “Only Robin and Chopper aren’t stupid.”
“Oh, Nami, you’re so beautiful when you’re angry!” Sanji exclaimed, wiggling in a boneless fashion.
“Yes, yes, now go away and do something useful,” Nami responded tiredly.
“Right away! I will now go cook delicious meals for my precious Nami and Robin!” Sanji then pirouetted and twirled into the kitchen, remarkably missing all obstacles along the way there.
Impressive, Smoker thought, but highly disturbing. “Luffy, where’s your brother?” Smoker asked, wishing very, very hard that he could leave quickly.
“Hmm? Oh, he’s at school,” Luffy replied as if it was very obvious.
Zoro woke up and stretched. “What’s going on?” he muttered sleepily. After a brief explanation from Nami, he asked Smoker, “So you want to go see Ace, right?” Seeing the older man nod, Zoro said, “Well, does he know how to get to Ace’s school?” He yawned widely, earrings making small jingling noises.
“I’ll give him directions; you’ll just get him lost,” Nami snorted. “Grand Line is ridiculously difficult to find if you don’t have specific directions, so I’ll write them down for you.” She took a pen and a piece of paper from the table and began neatly drawing Smoker a map while verbally clarifying some areas. After a few minutes, Smoker thanked her and left.
“Who was that?” Robin asked suddenly, serenely flipping a page. “He never introduced himself.”
“Oh, he’s Ace’s boyfriend,” Luffy stated, making Franky accidentally spew cola all over Robin’s newspaper.
--
Smoker decided that he’d have to thank Nami again at another time, for the woman was correct in saying that Grand Line University, although very large, was difficult to locate. He would have gotten lost if he hadn’t had Nami’s detailed map, or if he had gotten more faulty instructions from Garp. The university was a bit strange-looking; the buildings had different architectures and the plants outside seemed jumbled as well. However, even though buildings were randomly placed, the whole area gave off a unique and not entirely unpleasant feel.
Remembering the large tattoo and Ace’s personal mention, Smoker decided to look for Professor Whitebeard first, then Ace, since it seemed more logical. After asking around, he went to an austere looking building painted brightly white. Apparently, that was where the piano instructors taught. Smoker also overheard that many students had dubbed the place ‘The Moby Dick’. Witty.
Luckily, Smoker didn’t have to search long. He easily found Ace wearing his hat-beacon on a bench outside ‘The Moby Dick’. Unfortunately, the freckled man was snoring away, and no matter how many times Smoker prodded or kicked him he stayed stubbornly fast asleep.
“Idiot, wake up,” Smoker mumbled, giving Ace another kick for good measure. He stood there for a moment, deep in thought until he had an idea. “Portgas, if you don’t get up now, Luffy will eat all your food,” he said, trying to summon the most threatening tone he had in his arsenal (and he had many).
Ace twitched and abruptly sat upright, staring around bewilderedly, and rapidly saying “Food… Luffy… mine…” until he realized Smoker was in front of him. “Whoa…” he said, blinking. “Hi there, Mr. Smoker… I didn’t expect to see you. How’d you get here?”
“One of your brother’s friends gave me directions,” Smoker said gruffly, sitting down next to Ace, slightly surprised that the younger man had remembered his name.
“… Nami?” Ace wondered out loud. Seeing Smoker nod, he mumbled, “That makes sense; they were supposed to meet at our apartment today…”
“Isn’t school over by now?” Smoker asked after a moment of silence..
“Oh, I have a practical exam,” Ace answered. “Technically, it was supposed to be yesterday, but I had to do the retake.” Ace didn’t say anything further so Smoker decided not to ask for details. “So…” Ace drawled, turning to face his impromptu visitor. “Why are you here? Aren’t you too old to go back to school? How old are you anyways?”
Smoker chose to ignore the inquiry about his age and answered, “I’m here because Luffy told me you were at school.” Ace looked a bit nonplussed at that, so Smoker paused before continuing. “Do you recall Tashigi?”
“You mean that cute girl whom you were cheating on me with?” Ace said jokingly. Smoker glared at him and Ace laughed. “Ah, yeah, I know who you’re talking about. She squashed me, remember? Why are you asking?”
“She fell down the stairs of her apartment,” Smoker said, sighing.
Ace’s mouth dropped open. “Is she okay?” he asked, concerned. “Did she get hurt badly?”
“Miraculously, she broke her arm instead of her neck,” Smoker replied.
“Well, it sucks that Tashigi broke her arm,” Ace frowned. “I broke my arm once when I was younger and it was really annoying. I couldn’t do anything for weeks,” he ranted, scowling at the recollection. “I had to write with my left hand and I couldn’t play piano…” Then Ace suddenly remembered something Smoker had said before he had left Ace’s apartment weeks ago. Tashigi, memory-Smoker said with irritation, is the pianist for the concert I’m conducting at, you fool…
“The concert…” Ace mumbled quietly. “Did it… happen yet…?” When Smoker shook his head, Ace paled. “No,” Ace said firmly. “I can’t. You… you know I’m narcoleptic and you’re still asking me?” Ace was tempted to add “Are you bloody insane?” but opted not to, since Smoker would hear the unasked question through his tone of voice anyways.
“Yes, I’m still asking you,” Smoker said. Seeing Ace start to argue, he interrupted quickly, “Shut up. Just listen to me. I’ll make it short.”
Ace raised a thin eyebrow and folded his arms, his face wearing an it-better-be-good expression. “Fine, I’m listening,” he said, glowering.
“Good,” Smoker grumbled. “There’s only one month until the concert. Tashigi will not be ready in time, and nobody else will replace her at such short notice. You were the only person I could think of that might have agreed, so I asked you. If you refuse, I’ll have to cancel the piece and exchange it with something else. It’s really up to you,” Smoker finished, massaging his temples, trying to ward off an incoming headache.
Hesitantly, Ace asked, “… Which song was Tashigi playing?”
Smoker glanced at Ace and muttered, “Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major.” Since Ace said nothing afterwards, Smoker added, “It is less than twenty minutes, in case you were wondering, but only if you play fast enough. It was around fifteen when Tashigi was playing.”
“… I’ve heard it before,” Ace said slowly, chewing his lower lip (Smoker wondered idly whether or not it was an unconscious habit). “It’s… pretty well known. I’ve never played it before and it sounds… fiddly,” he concluded, wiggling his fingers quickly to clarify what he meant. “If I remember correctly, the last movement is pretty fast…”
“Hnn,” Smoker grunted in what Ace assumed to be agreement.
“… Did you really think I could learn something that quickly?” Ace asked in disbelief.
Smoker shrugged nonchalantly. “I could hope, right? You never really know for sure. I’ve only heard you play twice, and they were both songs you already knew. Even if you weren’t narcoleptic, it’s still risky asking you. But…” Smoker paused for a few seconds, and then said, “There really was nobody else but you, to be honest.”
Since Smoker isn’t the type that begs, Ace thought dryly, this will probably be the closest thing. Being a ‘last hope’ was a bit stressful… Ace had wanted to finally get his exams over with (especially after he fell asleep in the middle of Bach, which had been exceedingly embarrassing) and then enjoy a carefree summer. Then along came Smoker, proposing again that he play at a large scale concert, even after he had pretty explicitly said “no”. The fact that Smoker came back with such a tempting offer didn’t sit well with Ace’s pride…
Oh, screw my ego, Ace berated himself silently. I’ll never get to do this again, and I’d rather try it out with Smoker, who seems alright, than with grandpa. He had to suppress a shudder after imagining Garp bellowing on stage that Ace was his grandson and why, dang it, hadn’t he become a good, strong, conductor like he was, and on… and on… Then he’d say something about tea and crackers - he’d ask the audience if they wanted tea and crackers, he definitely would… Stop. Train. Of. Thought. Now.
Honestly speaking, every cell in Ace’s body was yelling “ACCEPT IT YOU MORON! ACCEPT HIS INVITATION!” at his indecisive brain. Oh, how he wanted to play so badly…! But then he’d inadvertently remember all the days he had keeled over in the middle of playing. His body was fickle; it didn’t care when or where, it just dozed off at random. Class? Okay. Conversation? Yup. Meals? Definitely. Exams? It just happened yesterday.
Concert?
Likely.
Ace just didn’t want to… ruin the song. Playing by himself was alright. After all, only he would suffer from it. But something like a concerto… if he screwed up, he screwed everyone else up. Why couldn’t Smoker just see that Ace could potentially throw him down a shit creek without a paddle or a lifejacket? Why couldn’t Smoker just leave him alone?!
“… um, I don’t think…” Ace started, trying to form a polite refusal when his tongue wanted to say “oh yes I’d love to make music with you”, which just sounded really awkward. Damn his body parts and their independence (especially his stomach and his mouth)!
Smoker sighed and stood up. “Portgas, I’m giving you three days,” he said with a tone of finality. “You decide in three days what you’re going to do. I’ll go to your apartment at around 9 o’clock in the morning and you’ll tell me what you decided. I don't care what the hell you pick. Neither matters to me,” he stated bluntly, glaring at Ace. “Just think things through. Pick what you want to do and stop worrying about random crap like what could go wrong or how it could affect other people. Just pick what you want, you idiot.” Smoker rolled his eyes and then walked away, leaving Ace to sit by himself and worry.
--
“Mr. Newgate?” Ace called from behind the door.
A large man with a white-haired moustache and beard glanced up from his desk and said, “Come in already.” As Ace entered the room slowly and seated himself across from him, Whitebeard said roughly, “Well, what did you want to see me for? School’s over for you, so it must be something important.”
“A conductor asked me to play at a concert as a replacement for the pianist who broke her arm,” Ace mumbled.
Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. “That’s good. So boy, why aren’t you happy? I know you’ve wanted to perform professionally for the longest time.”
“… It’s in a month,” Ace said quietly.
“That’s not what’s bothering you,” Whitebeard scoffed. He grabbed a few pills (blasted medication) and washed them down with a swig of water before glaring at Ace. “You’re crazy enough to actually pull it off if you wanted to. The question is why you’re so unenthusiastic about this,” he stated. After watching Ace shift anxiously in his seat and do the lip-biting thing he always did when uncomfortable, Whitebeard chuckled. “Oh, I see… you’re worried you’ll screw things up,” he said, shaking his head.
Ace winced and said, “Uh, yes, I am. For good reason.”
Whitebeard laughed again and stared evenly at Ace. “Son, did this person know you are narcoleptic?” When Ace nodded, the professor continued. “And they asked you regardless?” A pause, then another nod. “Then he just doesn’t care if you fall asleep,” Whitebeard concluded, scoffing. “Imbecile, the only thing stopping you is yourself. Only you care if you mess up. There’s no reason for you to be here asking for my advice,” Whitebeard declared. “Do whatever the hell you want.”
Whatever I want… Ace repeated to himself. He remembered a day countless years ago while he and Luffy still lived in the small house on Fuchsia Street. He remembered the red-haired man with his crazy laugh, glittering eyes and now familiar straw hat. He remembered Shanks playing the piano in Makino’s bar, and how he’d change from a childish alcoholic to a dignified and graceful artist. Ace remembered clearly the hands that flew across the keys and had long since memorized the songs he had heard him play, just so he could play them too. He remembered dreaming that someday he could play just like Shanks, and Luffy had wanted roughly the same thing… not quite, but fundamentally identical.
I want to play.
Whitebeard noticed Ace stopped biting his lip and said, “Why are you still in my office? Go home if you have nothing else to say.”
“Do you have the sheet music for Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G?” Ace demanded.
“You’re in luck, son.”
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