The transition into the New World was a turbulent, lightning-streaked nightmare, but the small Striker cut through the waves like a needle. Ace was at the helm, his flames burning steady and protective, but his eyes were constantly darting toward the horizon. He was nervous. He had faced down Blackbeard and stood on an execution platform, but the thought of presenting a memory-wiped Maye to a ship full of rowdy, weeping pirates had him sweating more than his own fruit ever could. "There!" Maye shouted, pointing a finger toward a silhouette rising out of the fog. It wasn't the Moby Dick, that grand old whale was resting at the bottom of the sea but the Empress was a formidable replacement. As the Striker drew closer, the deck was already swarming. Dozens of commanders, from Vista to Jozu, were leaning over the railing, their faces a chaotic mix of disbelief and hope. And right at the center was Marco, his blue phoenix wings flickering with restless energy. As the Striker pulled alongside and Ace helped Maye onto the deck, the entire ship went dead silent. It was as if they were seeing a ghost woven out of sunlight and sea salt. Marco stepped forward, his usual lazy gaze replaced by a raw, trembling intensity. "Maye... yoi?" Maye stood there, her hand instinctively clutching the ruby pendant. She looked at the tall man with the pineapple hair and the tired, kind eyes. Beside her, Ace was tense, his arms crossed, his protective "boyfriend" instincts dialed up to an eleven. Suddenly, Maye's face transformed. A brilliant, knowing smile broke across her lips. Her eyes lit up with a spark of recognition so bright it seemed to pierce the fog. "Marco!" she cried out, stepping toward him. "It's been so long! I missed you so much!" The crew erupted into cheers. Marco's shoulders slumped with a massive, shuddering breath of relief, his hands reaching out to welcome her back. But behind them, the temperature on the deck began to rise. Rapidly. Ace's jaw practically hit the wood. His eyes narrowed into slits, and a small puff of smoke escaped his ears. He looked between the two of them, his heart doing a jealous somersault. She remembers him? Just like that? She's been with me for weeks and I got a 'polite stranger' vibe, but she remembers the Pineapple?! "Wait, wait, wait," Ace growled, stepping between them, his hands glowing a faint, dangerous orange. "You remember him? You remember the guy who spends half his time as a blue chicken, but you don't remember the guy who... who..." He gestured wildly to himself, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled Maye's pendant. He was glaring daggers at Marco, who looked equally confused but was secretly enjoying the fire-user's meltdown. Maye stopped just inches from Marco, looked back at Ace's fuming face, and then slowly stuck her tongue out. "Just kidding!" she chirped, her eyes dancing with mischief. She turned back to a stunned Marco and gave him a friendly, slightly awkward pat on the shoulder. "Honestly, I have no idea who this oaf is. He just looks like someone who'd be easy to prank." The silence returned for exactly one second before the entire crew; Vista, Izo, and even the sternest subordinates burst into a roar of laughter that could be heard all the way to Marineford. "SHE GOT YOU!" Izo howled, doubling over. "She doesn't even have her brain, and she still plays you like a fiddle, Ace!" Ace froze, his flames sputtering out as his face went from 'jealous fury' to 'utterly humiliated.' He looked at Maye, who was currently giggling and hiding behind her hand. "You... you little..." Ace sputtered, his pride wounded but his heart secretly soaring. That was the old Maye. That sharp, wicked sense of humor was a part of her soul that the deity hadn't been able to touch. "Don't look at me like that, Mr. Grumpy-Flames," Maye laughed, stepping back toward him and sliding her hand into his. She leaned in, whispering just loud enough for the nearby commanders to hear. "You're the only one I want to remember, anyway. The rest of these guys just look like they're here for the free food." Marco chuckled, wiping a stray tear of laughter from his eye. "Welcome back, Maye. Memory or no memory, you're still the only person who can make the Fire-Fist look like a scolded puppy." The reunion was chaotic, loud, and filled with enough sake to drown a sea king. As the crew crowded around her, telling her exaggerated stories of her own greatness, Maye sat on a barrel next to Ace. He didn't let go of her hand for the rest of the night, glaring at anyone who tried to get too close, but the scowl on his face couldn't hide the soft, adoring look in his eyes every time she laughed. The "Anchor" was back, and for the first time in a year, the Whitebeard Pirates felt like they were finally sailing home.
