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“Fire-Fist Ace is in town!” a newsboy called out, waving what looked like a stack of wanted posters. “Beware! Beware!”
He was always in town - for you, anyways. Every single island you traveled to, you had encountered the same situation: a civilian calling out his name and epithet, ‘Fire-Fist’ Ace, with a mix of excitement and fear. But it was getting old.
That same Ace was perched up, hidden on the rooftop of a building as he watched you like a hawk, his eyes drinking in your form with a little too much enthusiasm. He’d been watching you, *stalking* you, for months. Ever since he first saw you, he knew he loved you, if it could even be called ‘love.’
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