hello-anchan

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/161400364

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “…Are you going to die?”

Chapter 13/15

The fall seemed endless.

Darkness swallowed them whole, stretching in every direction like a vast, yawning maw. The howling wind screamed past their ears, carrying with it whispers—too faint to understand, too persistent to ignore. The air grew heavier, coiling around their skin like unseen tendrils, clawing at their senses, seeping into their lungs. The deeper they fell, the more the Abyss tried to consume them.

Ace tightened his grip on Luo Binghe’s wrist. “Oi, you still with me?”

“Yeah, but ge…” Luo Binghe was watching Ace, something uncertain flickering in his eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ace didn’t get the chance to ask why before their freefall ended abruptly. The suffocating darkness gave way to a jagged rock surface rushing up to meet them. Ace twisted midair, yanking Luo Binghe close before twisting his body to take the brunt of the impact. Flames burst beneath them, slowing their descent just enough before they crashed into the ground.

Ace exhaled sharply as dust and debris scattered around them. “Hah—been through worse,” he muttered, shaking out his arms.

Luo Binghe scrambled to his feet, glancing around warily. The Endless Abyss was wrong in ways that couldn’t quite be described. The ground beneath them pulsed faintly, almost as if it were alive. 

The air churned with an overwhelming, oily energy that set Ace’s nerves alight—not with fear, but with a charged sensation. As if the Abyss itself was aware of him, drawn to him, reacting to him. Ace abruptly flared up his flames. Heat rushed outward, burning bright against the oppressive dark. For a moment, the demonic energy recoiled, twisting away as if stung. 

Across from him, Luo Binghe flinched, startled by the sudden burst of fire. “Ge?”

Before they could take a step, movement erupted from the shadows. A guttural snarl—then another, and another. The dark teemed with writhing shapes, drawn to the sudden surge of warmth Ace had unleashed.

“Ah, hell,” Ace sighed, cracking his knuckles.

It took a while before they could actually start making progress in their journey. As they walked aimlessly forward, Luo Binghe broke the silence. 

“Ge… you shouldn’t have come.” His voice was quiet, but thick with emotion. His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning—shiny with unshed tears.

Ace snorted and reached out, rubbing Luo Binghe’s head roughly. “How could I not, when you were looking at me with those begging eyes?”

Luo Binghe jerked back, face burning. “What begging eyes?! I was not!”

Ace only grinned wider, tilting his head as he took in Luo Binghe’s flustered scowl. Just a while ago, Luo Binghe would’ve all but melted under his hand, leaning into the touch like a happy puppy. Now, though, he had that stiff-backed, indignant look—like a kid who’d just realised he was too old to hold someone’s hand in public.

“Aw, so you’re at that stage now, huh?” Ace teased, tapping his chin. “Puberty’s hit you hard, beastie. Not such an adorable puppy anymore?”

Luo Binghe bristled, mortification and defiance flashing across his face. “I was never—!” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, visibly struggling for composure. “…Forget it.”

Ace cackled. “Too late. I’ll be bringing this up forever.”

Luo Binghe huffed, shooting him a wounded glare before dropping his gaze. His fists slowly unclenched, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t fade.

He knew Ace wasn’t a cultivator. No matter how strong he was physically, no matter how easily he tossed people around like ragdolls, his body was still that of a normal human. At most, he’d learned how to cycle his spiritual qi just enough to meditate, heal minor injuries, and keep himself mentally balanced. That wasn’t nearly enough to survive here.

A mortal like him wouldn’t last more than a few hours in the Endless Abyss. The demonic qi would eat away at his mind, corrode his body, twist him into something unrecognisable.

Luo Binghe swallowed hard.

He didn’t want to lose his ge. But now that they were here, what could he do?

His chest ached, grief curling tight in his throat.

“…How are you feeling?” His voice came out unsteady.

Ace blinked at him. “Huh? I feel fine. Why?”

Luo Binghe’s breath hitched. He had braced himself for signs of deterioration—for wild, vacant eyes or the first signs of madness creeping in. He had prepared for decay, for loss, for the inevitable.

Ace only looked confused.

Luo Binghe’s heart twisted.

Finally, he couldn’t hold his tongue.

“…Are you going to die?”

The oppressive silence of the Endless Abyss pressed in, broken only by the distant echoes of something moving in the darkness. The air was thick, stifling, heavy. Luo Binghe searched Ace’s face for something—an answer, an explanation, maybe even proof that the older man was already unravelling. 

The silence stretched, coiled tighter.

Then—

“Well, that’s rude.”

“I’m serious!” Luo Binghe rounded on him, voice taut with distress. “No human can survive here! The Abyss eats them. Their bodies rot, their minds shatter. This—this place is made of pure demonic qi. And you—you’re—”

Ace raised a brow. “Still alive?” He stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders. “I feel… pretty normal. A bit itchy, maybe.” 

He glanced around—just in case—then, with a practiced shrug, slid the top half of his robe off his shoulders, letting it pool loosely around his waist once more. He shot Luo Binghe a dazzling grin as if to say, See? Everything’s just peachy. 

Luo Binghe gaped at him. “Why–what are you doing?”

“What? You said the Abyss eats people, right? Thought I’d check if I’m rotting.” Ace flexed a little for good measure. “Nope. Still solid.”

Luo Binghe’s expression twisted, and for a moment, he just stared. Then, under his breath, “Shizun’s going to kill you.”

Ace snorted. “He will if we don’t get out of here soon.”

That startled a laugh out of Luo Binghe. The smile on his lips turned resigned. “You shouldn’t have followed,” he repeated. “The Endless Abyss is different from anything in the mortal realm. It’s alive. It wants to swallow you whole.”

Ace tilted his head. “And you know this, how?”

Luo Binghe stiffened. “...I heard about it in a lesson.”

Unlike Luffy—who couldn’t lie to save his life, whose face always twisted up like he’d swallowed a lemon whenever he tried—Luo Binghe’s tells were more subtle. Still, Ace’s big brother senses tingled.

“Binghe.”

The weight in Ace’s voice made Luo Binghe flinch. He hesitated, then looked down. “Please don’t get angry,” he whispered.

Ace sighed. “I’m not angry.” He tapped the ground with his foot, as if testing its solidity, then sat down cross-legged. With an easygoing grin, he patted the space beside him, motioning for Luo Binghe to sit too.

“There is this… dream demon,” Luo Binghe admitted, once he settled down beside Ace. “Meng Mo. He—he invaded my dreams before. Showed me things. Spoke of the Abyss. He said there’s power here. That I—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “He’s the one who told me I have demon blood in me.”

Ace hummed. “So this Momo guy is, what, inside you right now?”

Luo Binghe wrinkled his nose. “If you want to put it that way.”

“Is he messing with you right now?”

Luo Binghe hesitated before shaking his head. “Not right now.”

Ace frowned. “But he still haunts your dreams?”

“There’s no way to get rid of him unless I surpass him.” Luo Binghe curled his fingers into the fabric of his sleeves. “Once I’m stronger than him, I can kill him.”

Ace nodded thoughtfully.

“...You’re not angry?”

Ace raised a brow. “Over what?”

Luo Binghe bit his lip, avoiding Ace’s gaze. “That I already knew about my demon blood. That I’d secretly been practicing demonic cultivation behind Shizun’s back!”

Ace let out a quiet breath, his voice softer than before. “I’m not angry, Binghe.” 

He reached over, patting his shoulder. “I get it. You were scared, you didn’t know who to trust. You’re not alone now, though. You can tell me anything, alright?”

Before Luo Binghe could reply, something shifted. A ripple in the air, thick as oil, sent a shudder through his frame. His breath hitched.

Ah. 

The voice slithered through his mind.

There is something wrong with this one. 

Luo Binghe’s hands curled into fists. “Meng Mo. He’s saying something.”

The old demon’s presence pulsed, weighty and all-encompassing. A mortal should not survive here. And yet, he remains unscathed. 

Ace scoffed when Luo Binghe relayed the Dream Demon’s words. “That a problem?”

The demonic energy in the Endless Abyss shifted again, twisting, reaching—pressing against Ace’s very being. Searching. The oily tendrils of corruption that should have seeped into him, shattered him, burned away instead.

Ah, Meng Mo mused. So that’s how it is. 

Luo Binghe shivered. “What—what do you mean?”

This one is not untouched by corruption, the demon murmured. No, not corruption. Something else. Something… foreign. 

Ace’s flames flickered to life around his fingers. “You’re being awfully vague, pal.”

Because even I do not understand it, Meng Mo admitted to Luo Binghe. But it clings to him, just as demonic blood clings to you. A force beyond this realm’s understanding. 

Luo Binghe exhaled sharply, his gaze snapping to Ace. Demonic qi should have destroyed him.

But Ace was fine.

More than fine.

The demonic energy in the Endless Abyss twisted around them, oppressive and smothering. But not once did it consume Ace, the way it should have. Instead, the darkness curled at the edges of his body, recoiling, as if unsure what to make of him.

“…It’s like it’s rejecting you,” Luo Binghe realised, eyes wide.

Ace scratched his cheek. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Luo Binghe let out a helpless laugh, the sound halfway between disbelief and relief. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Weird.”

The Endless Abyss was a world of endless darkness, its sky a slate of grey that never shifted, never brightened, never allowed even the concept of time to exist. The air was heavy with an unnatural energy that gnawed at the body, seeking to erode the minds and souls of those who didn’t belong. The ground beneath their feet was jagged and unstable, pulsing faintly with eerie crimson veins—signs of the demonic aura that permeated everything.

And yet, Ace walked through it all as if he was taking a casual stroll down a sunny street.

They moved through the Abyss cautiously, though it became increasingly clear that Ace had no reason to be cautious at all. Luo Binghe’s strength was growing—slowly but surely, he could feel his body adjusting to the heavy demonic energy, his once-human limitations breaking apart piece by piece. His strikes hit harder, his senses sharpened.

When Luo Binghe managed to dodge an unexpected attack from one of the creatures lurking in the shadows, Ace whistled in approval. When Luo Binghe struck back with a growing precision, Ace whooped supportively. And though he never said it outright, his casual “Nice one, kid,” after every victory made something warm bloom in Luo Binghe’s chest.

That night—if it even was night—Luo Binghe curled up in a shallow cave, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. Ace sat a little ways off, legs stretched out, arms crossed as he leaned back against the rough stone. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

Luo Binghe closed his eyes, but instead of surrendering to sleep, he steadied his breathing and sank into deep meditation. The Abyss pulsed around him, thick with demonic qi, and he let it wash over him, guiding it through his meridians, refining it. His body ached, but he welcomed the discomfort—it meant he was growing stronger. He focused inward, letting his mind settle into the stillness.

And then Meng Mo came.

The Dream Demon’s presence was a whisper at first, slithering into his mind as it always did. But tonight, something was different. There was a flicker of confusion from the demon, a hesitation. Luo Binghe had never felt him so unsettled before.

Then—

A sudden surge of heat. A roar of something burning, consuming.

Meng Mo’s presence shattered, torn from his mind with a soundless scream.

Luo Binghe jerked awake, heart pounding. The Abyss was as quiet as ever. But…

Meng Mo was gone.

Frowning, he reached out in his mind, searching for that familiar presence—but there was nothing. Only empty silence. It was as if Meng Mo had vanished entirely.

Ace stretched beside him, yawning as he scratched his head. “Man, that was a great nap.” He blinked at Luo Binghe’s tense expression. “What’s up?”

Luo Binghe hesitated. “Meng Mo… I can’t sense him anymore.”

Ace shrugged. “Good riddance.”

Luo Binghe frowned. “Dream demons don’t just disappear like that.”

He had a niggling suspicion that the Dream Demon had tried to enter Ace’s dreamscape. The demon was always curious, always eager to exploit weaknesses, and Ace was a captivating enigma. Could it be that it had tried to interfere with Ace somehow, only to be burned alive by his fire?

…Now that he thought about it, how did Ace even get his fire powers? Over the two years that Ace had stayed with them, Luo Binghe had eventually learnt that Ace was not an actual cultivator, but he had never questioned Ace’s flames.

“Well, whatever the case, he’s not bothering you anymore, right?” Ace clapped a hand on Luo Binghe’s shoulder before pushing himself up and stretching. “C’mon, let’s keep moving.” A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “We can’t keep your shizun waiting too long.”

—

Normally, Shizun would have already doled out at least ten strikes by now—one for oversleeping, three for sloppy sword form, and the rest simply because he felt like it. But now? Nothing. Not even a cold sneer or a sharp rebuke.

Even Ning Yingying, usually the one to earn a rare indulgent sigh from Shizun, was met with... silence.

The Qing Jing Peak disciples exchanged worried glances as they went through their drills, their swings half-hearted. Is Shizun okay? 

If only Ace-zang was here… But the whole reason Shizun was like this was because Ace wasn’t here. And neither was the baby of Qing Jing Peak. Ning Yingying met Ming Fan’s equally concerned gaze.

It was all very distressing.

The Peak Lords, too, were facing a similar crisis.

“He’s looking more and more like a despondent widow by the day,” Qi Qingqi noted, after Shen Jiu exited the meeting hall ahead of the others. His steps, usually quick and precise, were now slow and absentminded, as if he were walking a path without really seeing it.

“He didn’t shoot me a single insult the entire meeting,” Shang Qinghua whispered in a trembling voice. “This is terrifying.”

Liu Qingge crossed his arms, scowling. “If he doesn’t snap out of it soon, I’ll drag him out for a spar.”

“...That might actually help,” Mu Qingfang murmured, stroking his chin.

Wan Jian Peak Lord Wei Qingwei, who had remained silent up until now, let out a quiet sigh and spoke. “He passed me the broken shards of Luo-shizhi’s sword last night. Didn’t say a word about it.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. No one knew exactly what had happened during the chaos at the Immortal Alliance Conference—all they knew was that Shen Jiu had returned alone, with no explanation for Luo Binghe and Ace’s absence. And now, with Zhen Yang shattered beyond repair, they were left to draw their own conclusions.

Yue Qingyuan, silent throughout their exchange, thought back to Shen Jiu’s retreating figure with quiet concern. He wanted to reach out—again—but he knew better than anyone how fiercely Xiao Jiu resisted anything that even resembled pity.

Shen Jiu was seething. 

Had been for a week now, and counting.

Each breath felt like a burn, the fury coursing through him with a force that made his hands shake. He could still see it—Ace, so casually jumping into the Endless Abyss, after promising that he wouldn’t. And for what? To save a half-demon boy who wouldn’t have needed help, while Ace himself, a mere human, would be the one to suffer?

Shen Jiu sat on the edge of his bed. His fingers curled around the delicate hairpin that Ace had gifted him. The small trinket felt like an anchor, one he was afraid would pull him under.

With a sudden, sharp motion, he gripped it tighter, his hand trembling, ready to hurl it across the room in his fury. But then—he stopped.

His palm slowly opened, the hairpin resting gently against his skin. His other hand traced the delicate curves, feeling every groove and indentation embedded in the design. Each touch sent a ripple of warmth through him, despite the anger that still blazed in his chest.

There was a sharp sting of betrayal stabbing at his chest, but beneath it, was a tender yearning to understand why Ace had done it.

He closed his eyes, the storm inside him momentarily stilling.

Come back soon, he thought, the words unspoken but painfully clear. Let me hear your side. 

—

The days blurred together as Ace and Luo Binghe traveled deeper into the Endless Abyss. They had faced countless demons and creatures that crawled out of the shadows, testing their endurance and pushing them to their limits. 

Luo Binghe’s progress was impossible to ignore. The demonic energy that suffused the Abyss was no longer an adversary—it yielded, seeped into his very being, strengthening him. His strikes hit harder, his senses sharpened. His demonic blood seemed to resonate with the Abyss itself, as if it were becoming one with him.

Ace, too, found his strength growing. Though the environment was taxing on his human body, he adapted. The constant battles forced him to refine his haki, training it through sheer necessity. Observation haki kept him a step ahead of ambushes, while armament haki strengthened his blows, allowing him to fight creatures that should have been far beyond a human’s ability to handle.

One night, as they sat by a fire, Luo Binghe finally gave in to his curiosity. “Ace-ge… you've never told me much about your fire powers.”

Ace grinned, tossing another chunk of demon meat into the fire. “Oh, that? I ate a Devil Fruit.”

“Devil fruit? Like a demonic fruit?”

“No, no. Devil Fruits.”

“So…not a demonic fruit?” A befuddled expression crossed Luo Binghe’s face as he tilted his head to the side.

Ace had the oddest sense of déjà vu, as if he’d had almost this exact conversation before. He shook it off and launched into an explanation about how Devil Fruits granted strange powers, how his was a Logia type that let him create, control, and turn into fire, and how the price for such power was a permanent weakness against bodies of water. 

Luo Binghe listened carefully, nodding at intervals. “So… your Devil Fruit lets you become fire itself, but in exchange, you can never swim? Ever?”

“Yep. I sink like a rock.” Ace thumped his chest proudly.

Luo Binghe considered it. “That sure sounds like a demonic curse. Especially if you really were a pirate who actually had to travel in the seas.”

They both laughed. 

It was a long-running joke in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Everyone humoured Ace’s fixation with pirates as nothing more than childish fantasy, much like a young cultivator dreaming of becoming an immortal swordmaster. They assumed it was harmless fun, something Ace liked to talk about to entertain himself and others.

Except for Shen Jiu—the only one who knew the truth.

The laughter petered off, and Luo Binghe fell into a pensive silence. They had been stuck here for roughly two months now, yet Ace seemed to have faced zero negative side effects from prolonged exposure to the demonic energy in the Abyss. Could it be… 

“You said these fruits give people strange powers,” he said slowly. “But doesn't that sound… similar to how demonic qi strengthens demons through cultivation?”

Ace blinked, his fingers stilling mid-motion as he poked at the fire. That was… not something he had considered before.

Luo Binghe turned to him, expression unreadable. “And if Devil Fruits are connected to demonic qi somehow… Does that mean your power is demonic in nature?”

Ace let out a long, slow whistle. “Now that's a thought. But nah, I don't think so. We still don’t know much about Devil Fruits, but I doubt that demons have got anything to do with them.” Demons don’t exist. Not in my world anyway. “But it does seem like the weird evil air doesn’t seem to know how to deal with me.” 

He glanced down at his hand, fire flickering to life at his fingertips. As dense as he could be, even he had noticed how the demonic energy that saturated the Abyss seemed to fail in its attempts at corrupting him. Especially when he ignited his flames, which appeared to overwhelm the demonic energy in return.

Not for the first time, Luo Binghe questioned Ace’s background. 

A fruit that grants permanent supernatural abilities—how could such a thing exist? Yet Ace spoke of it so casually, as if it were nothing unusual. Not only did he wield such a power, but he also knew its classifications, its limitations, even its weaknesses. If Devil Fruits truly existed in this world, why had no sect, no scholar, no ancient text ever mentioned them? 

For the first time, Luo Binghe voiced it.

“Ge…where are you from, really?”

Ace stiffened—just for a fraction of a second. Then, his easygoing grin returned, smooth as ever. “What, you still don’t believe me when I say I’m a pirate?”

Luo Binghe gave him a flat look.

Ace laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Tell you what. When we get out of here, I might just tell you.”

As they continued to walk aimlessly, following Luo Binghe's choice of directions (they played rock-paper-scissors every day to decide who would pick the path—Ace may be a pirate, but he’s all about diplomacy, okay? Although Luo Binghe has been winning about 9 out of every 10 times), the duo suddenly realised with a jolt that their surroundings had grown eerily quiet.

Luo Binghe tensed, eyes narrowing as he scanned around. The oppressive weight of demonic energy thickened the air, pressing down like a living thing. Ace, beside him, cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, ready for something to pop up, as was the norm nowadays.

A deep, guttural growl echoed from the darkness. From the chasm ahead, something stirred—a hulking mass of writhing limbs, twisted maws, and shifting, jagged carapace. A true Abyssal Horror—towering, grotesque, and incomprehensibly powerful—rose before them, its form shifting and writhing, an ever-changing mass of rotting flesh and blackened limbs, eyes that gleamed with malice and hunger. A creature of nightmares, born from the very depths of the Endless Abyss.

Despite the goosebumps on his skin betraying his sense of fear, Ace grinned. “Damn, it’s ugly.”

The Abyssal Horror lunged.

Luo Binghe was already in motion, dodging the incoming strike with fluid precision. He launched forward in a blur, gripping a jagged, blackened spear they had taken from a slain demon days ago. The spear flashed, and a shockwave of demonic energy ripped through the air, slicing through one of the creature’s writhing limbs. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling as it hit the ground.

Ace, on the other hand, met the attack directly. His fist cocked back, wreathed in shimmering flames—and something else. When he struck, a shockwave burst outward, the sheer force of it cracking the ground beneath him.

Armament Haki. 

The Abyssal Horror reeled back, its limb crumpling under the impact. Shrieking, its remaining limbs twisted unnaturally as it lunged again. But Luo Binghe was faster. He blurred out of sight, appearing above its head, his spear descending in a ruthless arc. 

Ace was already moving, weaving between the monstrous limbs, his body flickering in and out of existence like a living flame. When one of the creature’s mouths snapped at him, he let it pass right through his intangible form before solidifying mid-air, driving his foot into its twisted skull with a Haki-enhanced kick.

Luo Binghe landed, slicing through another limb with devastating ease. The creature shrieked, its entire body twisting in agony. But it wasn’t dead yet. Its remaining limbs slammed down, sending a shockwave rippling through the Abyss, cracking the very ground apart.

Ace and Luo Binghe moved as one.

Luo Binghe surged forward and drove his palm into the creature’s chest. The sheer force of his demonic qi sent cracks splintering across its carapace. At the same time, Ace rocketed upwards, his entire body wreathed in flames. He clenched his fist, his will sharpening into something undeniable, and brought it down.

“Hiken!”

The explosion of fire and force tore through the Abyssal Horror. For a moment, the world was consumed in blinding light and searing heat. The creature gave one final, unearthly shriek before its massive form collapsed, burning, crumbling into nothing but embers and ash.

Ace landed lightly, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the remains. “Well. That was fun.”

Luo Binghe tossed away the broken spear, exhaling. He felt stronger. Not just physically, but fundamentally. The Endless Abyss had not swallowed him whole. He had fought it—and won.

Ace clapped him on the back. “Not bad, kid. You didn’t even let the creepy demon energy get to you.”

Luo Binghe smiled, almost bashfully, and for a moment, Ace caught a glimpse of Luffy in him—his younger brother’s easygoing, carefree grin. “I had you with me.”

Ace blinked. Then, he cracked a smile. “Damn right you did.”

Omake (delicious in dungeon au, anyone?)

Ace dropped his latest catch onto the ground with a heavy thud. It was… something. A mess of scales, chitinous plating, and far too many legs.

Luo Binghe eyed it with deep suspicion. “Ge, that thing was still screaming five seconds ago.”

Ace shrugged. “Means it’s fresh, right?” He casually ignited his fingertips, setting up the fire while gesturing towards the teen. “C’mon, chef. You know the deal. I bring the meat, you make it edible.”

Luo Binghe sighed but got to work. The first few times, he had been hesitant—questioning if these creatures were even safe to eat. But after watching Ace chow down on some unidentifiable Abyssal beast without a second thought—and suffer no consequences—he stopped asking.

A while later, they sat side by side, tearing into their meal. Well, Ace tore into it. Luo Binghe was beginning to seriously consider the benefits of inedia.

“Man, this actually tastes decent,” Ace said around a mouthful. "Kinda reminds me of something I ate back home."

Luo Binghe poked at his own portion as he studied the older man. “Ge, you’re handling this whole situation really well, huh.”

Ace raised an eyebrow. “What, living in an inescapable pit of monsters and nightmares? Yeah, no big deal.”

Luo Binghe finally built up the courage to bite into his share. Surprisingly edible. “How are you so… unaffected?”

Ace snorted. “My gramps has been throwing me into places like this since I could walk. Survival training, he called it.” He grinned at the memories—fond, despite the insanity of it. “I think I was five when he threw me into a swamp forest full of wild animals for a week. Said it would ‘build character’.”

Luo Binghe stared at him in silent horror.

Ace took another bite of their mystery meat. “Ah, good times.”

Omake 2

Ace @ the Abyssal Horror - “Damn, it’s ugly. I wouldn’t eat that.”

Binghe, thinking - Something that even Ace-ge wouldn’t dare eat must be truly terrifying.

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/160864138

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: Ace had never been good at keeping his promises.

Chapter 12/15

“I’ve found ancient texts that suggest that it is possible to form dimensional rifts, but,” Shen Jiu’s expression remained carefully placid as he delivered his update. “All point to the use of one particular key—the Xin Mo sword.”

Ace’s eyes lit up, a grin tugging at his lips. “A sword? That sounds badass—”

“Stop right there,” Shen Jiu interrupted with a withering look. “Xin Mo is a cursed sword and nearly impossible to control. It corrupts whoever wields it.” A faint frown began to form on his forehead. “The sword’s exact location is unknown. Some accounts suggest it is lost deep within the Endless Abyss. Others believe it vanished from this realm entirely. Regardless, no one has dared to go after it.”

“And where is this Endless Abyss?” Ace asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Shen Jiu’s expression shifted, his usual icy disposition giving way to concern. “The Endless Abyss is no ordinary place. It’s a chasm of pure chaos, where the boundary between realms is frayed and unstable. The energy there twists reality itself. If you go there…” He hesitated, the creases between his brows deepening. “Even someone as reckless and resilient as you might not come back the same—or at all.” 

At Ace’s still relaxed mien, Shen Jiu stepped closer. “You don’t understand the kind of danger we’re talking about. It is not something you can laugh off or fight your way through. Even the most skilled cultivators wouldn’t dare approach without a death wish.”

Noting the uncharacteristic depth of worry in the cultivator’s tone, Ace held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m not stupid enough to throw myself into some bottomless pit of doom. You can relax, Chu.”

Shen Jiu didn’t look entirely convinced. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around his sleeve, his gaze lingering on Ace’s ever-present smirk as if searching for cracks in his resolve. “Promise me you won’t,” he said at last, his voice quiet but firm.

Ace blinked at the unexpected demand before letting out a low chuckle. “You’re really worried about me, huh?” He gave Shen Jiu a lopsided grin, but his voice was gentle. “Alright, I promise. No Abyss-diving for this guy. I’d rather stay here and bug you, anyway.”

The faintest sigh of relief escaped Shen Jiu, though his stern mask returned quickly. “Good.”

Ace reached out, his fingers brushing against Shen Jiu’s hand, which was clenched tightly at his side. The knuckles were pale, the faint tremor betraying the anxiety he worked so hard to suppress. With a playful tug, Ace pried the fingers loose, and laced their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze. 

“Been here for, what, half a year already? What’s a little longer?” Ace joked, his tone light but his grip steady. 

Shen Jiu felt his face warm as Ace pulled him closer, their foreheads gently knocking together. The closeness, the casual touch, was so typical of Ace, but even after all this time, Shen Jiu still wasn’t entirely used to it.

“If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s finding solutions when things look impossible. And I’ve got you, right? We’ll figure this out together,” Ace continued, his tone unwaveringly warm.

Shen Jiu cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “There is something else I’d like to take a look at.”

The dense canopy of Bai Lu Forest shimmered with dappled sunlight filtering through the jade-green leaves. The air was thick with the hum of unseen insects and the faint chirping of birds, interrupted only by the crunch of undergrowth beneath Shen Jiu’s boots. Beside him, Ace strolled with his usual carefree gait, occasionally humming a light tune under his breath. Their conversation had meandered from the wonders of beggar’s chicken (Ace had been the only one contributing to this ‘discussion’, no thanks to Luo Binghe who had recently cooked the dish for him) to the mystery of how Ace had ended up in Shen Jiu’s world in the first place.

“If I had to guess, you were caught in a fractured leyline or a weak dimensional space—places where the boundary between realms is already unstable.”

“Like a crack in reality?”

Shen Jiu nodded. “Exactly. These fractures are rare, but they tend to appear in places with high spiritual energy fluctuations or residual forces from past disturbances. You said that you were in the middle of a war at that time, so the chaotic mix of power might have acted as a catalyst, triggering a collapse in the boundary.” He cast Ace a sidelong glance. “Depending on how much force was involved, it’s possible that the rift wasn’t just a coincidence—but something that was forced open.”

Ace let out a low whistle. “Damn. So I got booted through a tear in the universe just because some battlefield got too rowdy?”

Shen Jiu held back a snort of amusement. “This means there’s a chance to reverse the process—if we can find another weak point and control it properly.” He stepped over a tangle of roots. “If the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom can stabilise a vessel, it might stabilise a rift as well.”

Ace grinned. “So what you’re saying is, I just need to find another crack in the universe and not fall in by accident this time?” 

“...Do not put words into my mouth.”

They approached a near-hidden cavern, its entrance obscured by thick tendrils of moss and creeping vines that clung to the jagged rocks. Inside, the cavern was cool and dimly lit, the bioluminescent moss casting a faint glow over the chamber. At the far end, the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom grew in a cluster, its pale caps shimmering faintly. Shen Jiu knelt before them, his hands steady as he carefully harvested the seeds.

“Man, you’ve got a knack for this,” Ace remarked in a low voice, crouching beside him.

“Years of practice,” Shen Jiu muttered, focusing intently on his task.

Just as they were about to leave, the faint sound of scales against stone drew their attention. An ugly snake, its mottled and bloated body blending into the shadows, slithered toward them. Its yellow eyes were fixed on the seeds in Shen Jiu’s hand.

“Looks like it wants something,” Ace murmured, eyeing the snake inquisitively. “Maybe the seeds?”

“Absolutely not,” Shen Jiu said firmly, eyeing the snake with distaste.

“Oh, come on,” Ace said, nudging him lightly. “It’s harmless. Look at it—it’s practically begging. Be nice, Chu.”

The snake hissed softly, its gaze unwavering. After a long pause, Shen Jiu let out a sigh of exasperation. “Fine. But only a few.”

He placed two seeds on the ground and stepped back. The snake slithered forward, nudging the seeds with its snout before swallowing them and retreating into the shadows.

Ace grinned. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Shen Jiu shot him a withering glare but couldn’t hide the faint twitch of amusement at the corners of his lips. “Let’s go before you decide to make friends with every creature in this forest.”

As they left the forest, Ace’s laughter echoed behind them, a warm counterpoint to Shen Jiu’s exasperated grumbling. Meanwhile, deep within the forest, the snake disappeared into the shadows, its fate irrevocably altered by their brief encounter.

.

.

.

Months passed, yet the seeds yielded no results. 

Shen Jiu felt a sharp sting of helplessness every time Ace, ever the optimist, offered his usual cheerful smile, telling him not to worry.

—

Shen Jiu sat in his study, sifting through the stack of scrolls detailing the logistics for the upcoming Immortal Alliance Conference. The event was looming ever closer, and while it was technically an opportunity for young disciples to showcase their skills and forge connections, Shen Jiu had little enthusiasm for it. The political posturing and thinly veiled rivalries were more trouble than they were worth.

He muttered to himself as he skimmed the documents. “A waste of time. None of them are ready for this nonsense.”

Ace strolled in without knocking, as he always did. “What’s got you so worked up this time?”

Shen Jiu shot him a glare but didn’t bother chasing him out. “The Immortal Alliance Conference,” he replied tersely, setting down the scroll.

Ace flopped into a nearby chair, his posture as unrefined as ever. “Sounds fancy.”

Shen Jiu leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “It’s a gathering of cultivation sects. The disciples compete to demonstrate their skills, and sect leaders use it as an excuse to compare resources and brag. The winning disciples gain prestige, and the sects gain influence.” His tone dripped with disdain. “It’s an event built on ego and theatrics.”

Ace’s eyes lit up with interest. “Like sparring matches? Can I come?”

Shen Jiu gave him a long, exasperated look. “No. I'm not sending any of my disciples to this conference. They're too young, and I don't want them getting caught up in that kind of politics.”

Ace placed his palms on the desk as he gestured animatedly. “But you’ve got some strong disciples! Like Binghe! You’ve got to send them. Why not give them a chance to gain some real experience?”

Shen Jiu hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk as Ace's words echoed in his mind. The thought of sending his disciples into such a high-stakes environment made him uneasy. Yet, as he met Ace’s encouraging gaze, he couldn’t ignore the weight of his words. His disciples had trained hard, and perhaps this was the very opportunity they needed to prove themselves, to step out from under his shadow and face challenges on their own. 

"Come on, they’ve got you as their teacher and you’re amazing. They’re going to knock it out of the park. Trust me!" Ace tilted his head with a charming grin.

Trust.

Shen Jiu trusted Ace, so of course, he couldn’t help but give in.

—

As the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect delegation arrived at the grounds of the Immortal Alliance Conference, held at Jue Di Gorge, the atmosphere shifted. Cultivators from various sects, dressed in immaculate robes and exuding an aura of refinement, glanced curiously at the arrival of one of the top sects. Shen Jiu’s carriage came to a smooth stop at the entrance, and the disciples dismounted, their horses snorting in the fresh air. However, it was Ace who immediately drew the most attention.

Striding confidently among the crowd, his top half was bare, the tanned, tattooed, and scarred expanse of his skin a stark contrast to the jade-like, unblemished forms of the other cultivators. His presence was a striking anomaly. Men whispered among themselves, their eyes narrowing at the unorthodox sight, while more than a few women’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment or fascination at the unexpected display.

Shen Jiu, his gaze unwavering, approached Ace with a sense of resigned annoyance. With a swift flick of his fan, he smacked Ace lightly across the shoulder. “Cover yourself up, at least for the duration of the event,” he muttered sharply.

Ace chuckled, unbothered by the stares but enjoying the opportunity to get under Shen Jiu’s skin. “Aw, but I’ve got nothing to hide,” he teased as he obediently pulled the top half of his robes, which had been hanging loosely around his waist, back up over his shoulders. 

Yue Qingyuan, as the sect leader, stepped forward to greet the host of the event, the Old Palace Master of Huan Hua Palace. The two exchanged formal pleasantries, their voices calm but charged with the weight of unspoken expectations. 

The Old Palace Master’s gaze swept over the assembled group with practised indifference, not even reacting to Ace’s dishevelled appearance. But as his eyes landed on Luo Binghe, there was a fleeting flicker of recognition—a faint widening of his eyes that quickly vanished under his composed mask. No one seemed to notice the subtle reaction, except Shen Jiu.

Shen Jiu’s eyes narrowed slightly, his sharp mind instantly latching onto the anomaly. Why did the Old Palace Master look at his youngest disciple like that? There was no reason for someone like Luo Binghe to have caught the attention of such a figure—or was there? Shen Jiu filed the observation away, unease prickling at the back of his mind. 

As the event began in earnest, the atmosphere shifted. A large, imposing barrier shimmered around Jue Di Gorge, isolating the participants. 

The rules were simple but brutal: after defeating a demonic creature, the participant would receive a prayer bead from its body, which they were to thread onto a golden cord around their wrist. The more difficult the creature, the more powerful the spiritual qi within the prayer bead, and the higher the score that would be displayed on the ranking charts visible to all.

Eyes glued onto the crystal mirrors that projected a view of the venue, Ace watched as Luo Binghe faced off against a particularly large demonic beast. He excitedly prodded at Shen Jiu to look as the young boy successfully gained a prayer bead. Shen Jiu’s eyes followed the action, his face impassive but with a subtle glint of approval in his gaze. Despite his reservations about sending in his disciples, seeing Luo Binghe handle the demon so well filled him with a quiet pride.

Unfortunately, what had begun as a thrilling spectacle soon devolved into chaos. The beasts, initially a manageable challenge, grew abnormally strong, their ferocity and power unlike anything the young disciples had encountered before. Massive, monstrous creatures tore through the ranks of disciples, their claws ripping into the ground, their roars deafening. Blood stained the earth, and cries of pain echoed across the gorge.

In the midst of the madness, it became evident that something had gone terribly wrong. The disciples, some fresh-faced and inexperienced, struggled to defend themselves. Many were injured, some fatally, as the creatures ravaged their defences.

The seniors outside the barrier, witnessing the carnage, made the decision to enter the gorge. Shen Jiu was among the first to react, his expression set in determination. Ace was already on his feet, his jaw tight and flames flickering faintly at his fingertips.

Mangled bodies of disciples and demonic beasts littered the ground, the air heavy with the acrid stench of blood and burnt flesh. The once-quiet gorge echoed with the roars of feral beasts and the cries of the injured. Shen Jiu, wielding his sword with cold precision, sent a blast of wind imbued with sharp spiritual energy, cleaving through a pack of beasts that lunged at a group of retreating disciples.

“Head for the exit!” Shen Jiu barked, his commanding voice cutting through the chaos. The disciples stumbled toward safety.

Ace, meanwhile, had dove headfirst into a swarm of creatures. His fists ignited in vibrant orange flames, and a single fiery punch left smouldering corpses in his wake. 

As they travelled further inwards, Ace’s sharp gaze caught sight of Luo Binghe, locked in a desperate battle with a towering beast, its jagged claws swiping dangerously close to the battered disciple. 

“Binghe!” Without hesitation, Ace sprinted toward him, flames licking up his arms.

The beast turned just as Ace launched himself into the air, delivering a fiery uppercut to its jaw. The creature’s roar turned into a strangled cry as the flames consumed it, reducing its massive form to ashes in a heartbeat. Landing in a crouch, Ace immediately turned to Luo Binghe. “Hey, you hanging in there, kid?” Ace asked as he gripped the boy’s shoulders, scanning the boy’s injuries.

Luo Binghe nodded weakly, his breath laboured. “I’m fine.”

Shen Jiu had managed to corral a handful of other disciples nearby, directing them towards the exit. Only once they were out of sight did he turn back to rejoin Ace and Luo Binghe. 

But before Shen Jiu could reach them, the air suddenly shifted, the energy around them twisting unnaturally. A deep, resonant crack echoed through the gorge, and the space before them warped, splitting open like a jagged wound. An ominous chill spread through the air as the rift yawned wider, an oppressive, malevolent energy seeping through. 

It was an entrance to the Endless Abyss, and from the depths emerged a figure cloaked in ice and shadows—Mobei Jun. The towering pure-blood demon radiated frost with every step, the ground beneath him freezing over in intricate crystalline patterns. His icy gaze settled unerringly on Luo Binghe, piercing through him as though reading his very essence. 

“You reek of demon blood,” Mobei Jun said coldly, his deep voice reverberating through the gorge.

Before anyone could react, Mobei Jun surged forward with blinding speed, his hand closing around Luo Binghe’s neck like a vice. The boy struggled, gasping, his battered form thrashing helplessly against the demon’s unyielding grip. Summoning what strength he had left, Luo Binghe threw his sword at Mobei Jun with all his might. The blade cut through the air, aiming straight for the demon’s chest. However, as it reached him, an influx of demonic qi surged uncontrollably, and with a resounding crack, the sword shattered into countless fragments, the force of the explosion sending shockwaves through the gorge.

Mobei Jun barely flinched. Raising his free hand, he unleashed a crushing wave of energy. A dark mark appeared on Luo Binghe’s forehead—the Zuiyin, a mark of his demon blood. The boy’s body convulsed, and the immense energy of his latent demon powers began to unfurl.

“Let him go!” Ace lunged forward and a column of fire erupted from his outstretched hand, slamming into Mobei Jun with explosive force.

But the damage was already done. Without another word, Mobei Jun escaped into the rift, vanishing into the depths of the Endless Abyss.

Luo Binghe collapsed to his knees, breathing raggedly. Tears streamed down his face as he looked to Shen Jiu for guidance. 

“Shizun...” His voice broke, his entire body trembling in confusion and fear.

Shen Jiu stood frozen, his body shaking as he processed the situation. His mind raced, but his feet didn’t move. He knew what needed to be done, but the weight of the decision seemed unbearable.

Ace reached out to Luo Binghe, his voice soft and comforting. “Binghe, it’s alright. Everything will be okay. We’ll figure this out together.” 

He rubbed the boy’s back, trying to reassure him. His gaze flicked to Shen Jiu, silently pleading for reassurance. But the Peak Lord did not respond. Instead, his expression remained cold, his face pale with an unreadable emotion. He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Luo Binghe. 

Before Ace could process what was happening, Shen Jiu wordlessly pushed Luo Binghe into the rift in the Endless Abyss. 

“No!” Ace roared, his heart leaping in his chest. Without hesitation, he threw himself towards the boy, arm outstretched. His fingers barely managed to grasp Luo Binghe’s wrist, his momentum pulling him dangerously close to the edge. “Binghe!” Ace’s voice was raw, filled with desperation as he clung to the boy’s slender wrist. He stared into Luo Binghe’s tear-filled eyes. Those starry black eyes—they were just so much like—

With a loud grunt, Ace pulled Luo Binghe away from the swirling abyss below. Luo Binghe gasped and panted from where he was kneeling on the ground, only to be suddenly pulled upright by Ace, whose hand was still tightly gripping his wrist. 

Ace whirled around to look at Shen Jiu.

“What the fuck was that!”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down!? You expect me to calm down after what you–!”

“The boy is a demon.”

“So what?! Did he choose to be one?! Did he choose who the fuck his parents were?!”

The words hit Shen Jiu like a physical blow. He could see it in Ace’s eyes—the drawing comparisons between himself and Luo Binghe. “Of course not. His parents’ sins are not his to bear, remember?”

“Then why!? Why would you—?”

“Because otherwise, the entire Cang Qiong Mountain Sect would be dragged down!” Shen Jiu's voice rang out sharply, cutting through Ace’s stumbling words. He grabbed Ace’s shoulders, eyes searching the man’s grey ones with rare intensity. “Do you understand? There are countless cultivators here from other sects as witnesses. They would accuse us of raising a demon and causing this mess. These people are ruthless. They would do anything to bring others down so they can drag themselves up.”

“So you would sacrifice Binghe?” Ace’s voice was barely above a whisper, raw with disbelief.

“To protect the hundreds of other disciples in our sect? Yes!”

Ace remained silent. His grip around Luo Binghe’s wrist remained tight and bruising, while the teenager remained silent.

“Listen to me. Both of you. Luo Binghe has demon blood in him. That is a fact that cannot be denied now that his blood has been awoken. And that means—he can survive.” Shen Jiu looked at his youngest disciple. “You will survive the Endless Abyss, and you will come back to us.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe started, his voice quivering as tears welled up in his eyes once again.

Shen Jiu turned to look at Ace. “Do you understand now?”

Ace’s expression was uncharacteristically grim. “Got it.”

Shen Jiu sighed in relief. “Good. Then—mmph!”

Before he could finish his sentence, a rush of warmth enveloped him. He inhaled sharply, the smoky scent of Ace’s presence filling his senses, a familiar, comforting smell that had always been a little too close for Shen Jiu’s comfort. It took a heartbeat for him to realise Ace had pulled him into a hug, though the moment stretched longer in his mind than in reality.

The one-armed embrace ended as swiftly and suddenly as it started. 

Ace pulled back, his usual toothy grin back in place as he looked at the still-rigid Shen Jiu standing before him. “We’ll be back in a jiffy!” 

Without giving Shen Jiu a chance to respond, he turned and leapt into the closing entrance of the Endless Abyss, pulling Luo Binghe along with him. Luo Binghe choked back a scream as he was abruptly plunged into the void once again, the darkness swallowing them whole. The only thing anchoring him was Ace’s unyielding grip on his wrist, his pulse quickening as they made the descent into nothingness.

The rift sealed shut behind them with a deafening snap.

Shen Jiu stood frozen in place, horrified.

—

Sorry, Chu, I know I promised...  

But Ace had never been good at keeping his promises.

Omake

Luo Binghe, looking like a helpless teen caught in the middle of his parents’ heated argument: …

Ace: “What the fuck was that!”

Luo Binghe awkwardly glances at Ace. 

Shen Jiu: “Calm down.”

Luo Binghe shifts his gaze towards Shen Jiu. 

Ace: “Calm down!? You expect me to calm down after what you–!”

Luo Binghe looks into the camera: Is this what it’s like to have both parents fight for custody over you?

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/160319467

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “If you were a bird, free to fly anywhere, would you fly to a different sky?”

Chapter 11/15

Perched on the railing outside Shen Jiu’s study, Ace watched the sun dip below the horizon with a wistful expression. The peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain stretched endlessly around him, cloaked in hues of gold and pink, but his gaze seemed to reach far beyond them, to lands unseen and adventures untold. He had been to the village at the base of the mountain with Shen Jiu before, but that brief glimpse of the world beyond had only whetted his appetite for more. The quiet, tranquil life of the mountain was starting to feel too small for someone like him.

Shen Jiu, seated at his desk and engrossed in a scroll, didn’t fail to notice the pirate’s uncharacteristic quietness. He steeled himself for the inevitable interruption of the silence.

“So,” Ace began, swinging his legs lazily as he leaned forward, a familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “What’s it like out there? Beyond the mountain, I mean.”

Shen Jiu didn’t look up from the scroll he was scrutinising. “Why do you care?”

Ace hopped off the railing and stepped closer. “I’m a pirate! I can’t stay cooped up here forever. I need to stretch my legs, see the world, meet new people… and more importantly, get out of here for a bit. I’m not used to staying in one place.”

“And cause chaos wherever you go,” Shen Jiu muttered under his breath, finally looking up to see Ace clasping his hands together in an exaggerated begging pose, a pout gracing his lips.

“Please? I promise I’ll be good!” Ace said, his hopeful eyes shining bright. “I’ll even stick to the rules—whatever they are.”

Shen Jiu raised an eyebrow. But as he studied Ace’s expression, a hint of guilt crept into his thoughts. He knew how restless Ace must have felt, confined to the sect’s peaks when he was used to roaming the vast seas.

With a heavy sigh, Shen Jiu relented. “Fine. But you’re not going alone.”

“Yes!” Ace whooped, pumping a fist in the air.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” Shen Jiu snapped. “You will be accompanied by Ming Fan and Luo Binghe, who are leaving for an assignment in a few days. If anything goes wrong, it’s on your head.”

“Deal!” Ace said, practically bouncing with excitement.

Shen Jiu pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting his decision. “And stay out of trouble. I mean it.”

Ace shot him a cheeky grin. “Trouble? Me? Never.”

—

A few days later, at the base of Cang Qiong Mountain, Ace stood beside three saddled horses, their reins tied loosely to a nearby post. The pirate looked far too casual, leaning against one of the horses with his arms crossed, while Luo Binghe and Ming Fan busied themselves with final preparations. Their luggage was securely fastened to the saddles, neatly packed with everything deemed necessary for their week-long journey.

Ace, meanwhile, looked like he couldn’t wait to bolt. His fingers drummed impatiently against the horse’s flank, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

“Now listen here!” Ming Fan said, wagging a finger in Ace’s face with all the authority he could muster. He stood ramrod straight, a picture of self-importance, as he launched into a meticulous recitation of the sect’s travel rules. “You are representing the sect on this journey, so act accordingly. No picking fights, no wandering off, no embarrassing us in front of the villagers—”

“Fan Fan,” Ace interrupted, grinning. “We haven’t even left yet, and you’re already nagging like an old man.”

“I’m not nagging! And who are you calling Fan Fan!” Ming Fan spluttered. “I’m giving you important guidelines! Someone has to, considering you seem incapable of behaving like a normal person.”

Ace just laughed, pushing off from the horse and stretching his arms over his head. “Relax, kid. Rules are just suggestions.”

“They are not suggestions!” Ming Fan exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. He turned to Luo Binghe for support. “Tell him, Luo-shidi!”

Luo Binghe, who had been quietly adjusting the strap on his saddle, looked up. He hesitated, glancing between Ming Fan and Ace, before muttering, “Shizun did say to stay out of trouble…”

“See? Even Luo-shidi agrees!” Ming Fan declared triumphantly.

Ace ruffled Binghe’s hair, causing the younger boy to flush and duck his head. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll keep things interesting but harmless. Promise.”

Ming Fan groaned, already regretting his inclusion in this mission. “If Shizun punishes us because of you, I swear—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll throw me off the peak,” Ace said breezily, hopping onto his horse in one fluid motion. He patted its neck affectionately, his grin widening. “Enough rules. Let’s get going already!”

With a resigned sigh, Ming Fan climbed onto his own horse. Luo Binghe followed suit, his expression caught between excitement and apprehension.

The three of them set off down the trail.

—

Their assignment was at a village a couple days’ ride away. Apparently, mischievous sprites had been raiding the village, stealing food and tools. Ming Fan and Luo Binghe had been tasked with tracking down the culprits, recovering the stolen goods, and reinforcing basic protections for the village.

Ace had left the two boys to their investigation while he wandered around aimlessly. As the freckled man strolled through the village, he quickly made himself at home among its bustling streets. The scent of sizzling skewers led him straight to a food stall, where he promptly bought enough roasted meat to make the vendor’s day. Between bites, he paused to help an elderly woman carry a basket of vegetables to her stall, earning a heartfelt thanks and a couple of fresh buns. 

Further along, he spotted a group of children playing near the riverbank. He joined in their game without hesitation, teaching them how to fold paper hats and telling exaggerated pirate tales. The kids, wide-eyed with awe, hung on his every word, especially when he conjured tiny, harmless flames in his palm to mimic the glow of ‘pirate treasure’.

Eventually, his wandering took him towards the dense forest that bordered the settlement. The air was cool, the scent of pine filling his lungs as he stepped lightly between the trees, enjoying the quiet away from the hustle and bustle of the village. 

As Ace walked deeper into the woods, he heard raised voices—sharp and angry. Following the sounds, he soon came across a scene that made his blood boil. A group of rough-looking bandits were surrounding a young woman, her back pressed to a tree as she tried to protect herself from their advances. They were laughing cruelly, taking advantage of the isolation.

“Hey, get lost!” one of the bandits snarled, spotting Ace as he approached. “This one’s ours!”

A rarely-seen frown appeared on Ace’s face, pinched in anger. He cracked his knuckles and strolled towards them, entirely unfazed.

The bandits, thinking he was just some naive passerby, moved to block his path. “Don’t stick your nose in someone else’s business, kid,” another one warned, pulling out a crude knife.

With a fluid, practiced motion, Ace disarmed the nearest bandit with a quick swipe of his arm. The others lunged, but Ace was faster, dodging their blows and taking them out one by one with swift punches and kicks, his movements graceful and effortless. There was no need for flames or fancy tricks for weaklings like them. Within moments, the bandits were sprawled on the ground, knocked out or groaning in defeat.

Ace turned to the girl, offering her a hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, her relief palpable. “Are you alright?” Ace asked as he eyed her for any external injuries.

The girl nodded, though her hands trembled as she accepted his help. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, looking up at him in awe. “I... I thought I was done for.”

“Not on my watch,” Ace replied, shooting her a warm grin that put her at ease.

He escorted her back to the village, following the girl’s directions to her house. The girl, still a bit shaken, kept glancing up at him, her cheeks flushed with gratitude.

When they arrived, the village head was standing at the gate of his house, speaking with Ming Fan and Luo Binghe, who had just finished their task of dealing with the sprites. A crowd of villagers had gathered around as well, eager to listen to the cultivators’ instructions about the new protective wards that had been set up. The village head looked up in surprise at the sight of his daughter walking in with a stranger.

“Ace-zhang,” Ming Fan called out, his brow furrowed in confusion as he saw the girl with him. “What happened?”

“I was just taking a stroll in the woods, and I happened to come across this young lady,” Ace explained, nodding at the village head in greeting. “She had some... unwanted company, so I stepped in.”

The village head's daughter turned to her father. “Father, he saved me,” she said, her voice soft but full of gratitude. “I... I was cornered by bandits in the forest, but he arrived just in time. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.”

The village head’s stern face softened as he listened to his daughter, his eyes flashing with approval. “It seems we have much to be grateful for,” he said, turning towards Ming Fan and Luo Binghe. “Your work with the protective wards was invaluable, and now, thanks to this young man, my daughter is safe. We owe you all our thanks.”

The village head's daughter stepped forward, her hands fidgeting as she shyly held out a delicate jade bracelet. “Please accept this as a token of my gratitude,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face was flushed, and her eyes flickered nervously between Ace and the crowd.

Ace blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected gesture. “Uh, thanks? It’s really pretty,” he said, accepting the bracelet without a second thought.

A murmur swept through the gathered villagers. The village head’s smile widened. “Wonderful! We’ll start preparing the wedding feast immediately!”

Ace froze, the bracelet slipping through his fingers. “Wait, what?”

Ming Fan facepalmed. Luo Binghe looked equal parts horrified and amused. “Ge,” he said softly, “I think you just accepted a proposal.”

Ace stared at the bracelet in his hand, then at the hopeful expression on the girl’s face. “Uh, is this one of those cultural misunderstandings?” he asked nervously.

The answer, unfortunately, was yes.

As Ace scrambled to return the bracelet and frantically explain the misunderstanding, the daughter refused to take it back, and Ming Fan, trying to help, only made things worse by insisting that, “Shizun wouldn’t approve of this!”

—

Three days into their return journey, the trio finally arrived at the village nestled at the base of Cang Qiong Mountain. 

The sun was low on the horizon, casting the village in a warm, golden glow. To their surprise, the streets were bustling with activity. Vibrant lanterns hung from rooftops, swaying gently in the evening breeze, and the sound of lively music echoed through the village. The scent of roasted skewers and freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, making Ace’s stomach growl audibly.

“A festival!” His face lit up, all traces of travel fatigue disappearing as he took in the colourful scene. “Talk about perfect timing!”

Ming Fan crossed his arms, already looking suspicious. “We’re here to rest for the night, not to cause more trouble. And you are staying out of it, Ace-zhang. Shizun will definitely hear about this if you mess up again.”

Ace threw an arm around Ming Fan’s shoulders, his grin wide. “Come on, you’ve got to loosen up! It’s a festival. Food, games, fun—what’s the worst that could happen?”

The pirate threw himself wholeheartedly into the festival, declaring his intent to try every single activity it had to offer. First stop: Archery.

"Watch and learn, kids," Ace said, rolling up his sleeves as he grabbed a bow.

Ming Fan began to prattle. "You're going to embarrass us, you know. Qing Jing disciples are supposed to be dignified—"

Ace fired the arrow. It hit the target dead centre, splitting the wooden pole holding the bullseye in half.

"—or, uh, maybe just keep showing off," Ming Fan finished begrudgingly.

Next was a folk wrestling competition. Ace, of course, signed up immediately.

"Isn't this against Shizun’s orders?" Ming Fan hissed, glancing nervously at the growing crowd of spectators.

"Relax, it's not real trouble," Ace said, cracking his knuckles. He flashed a grin at Luo Binghe, who had been silent but wide-eyed the entire time. "Hey, kid, take notes. This is how you win the crowd."

Luo Binghe nodded, practically glowing under Ace's attention.

Ace’s opponent—a burly farmer with arms the size of tree trunks—looked smug at first but quickly regretted his decision after Ace easily dodged every blow and ended the match by flipping the man onto his back. The crowd roared, and Ace turned to his two companions, arms outstretched.

“You’re welcome,” he said, as if basking in imaginary applause.

Luo Binghe clapped eagerly, his face lighting up with childlike delight. Before he could get too carried away, Ming Fan smacked his hands down with a glare.

"Shizun’s going to kill us," Ming Fan muttered.

After wrestling came the chilli-eating contest, which Ace insisted on entering despite Ming Fan’s protests.

“This is beneath us!” Ming Fan hissed as Ace sat down, grinning at the line of increasingly fiery chilli peppers.

"Speak for yourself," Ace said, popping the first chilli into his mouth like candy.

While Ming Fan looked on in horror, Luo Binghe quietly stepped up beside Ace, watching with fascination as the pirate demolished pepper after pepper, the crowd’s cheers growing louder with each bite. Ace outlasted everyone with a grin, even as smoke quite literally poured from his ears (much to the villagers’ fascination).

By nightfall, Ace had taken to leading the villagers through rowdy sea shanties, much to Ming Fan’s increasing horror.

“This is not dignified behaviour!” The Qing Jing Peak head disciple’s voice was almost drowned out by the boisterous singing.

"You're no fun," Ace said, nudging him with an elbow before turning to Luo Binghe. "What about you, kid? Sing with us!" 

Luo Binghe hesitated, then smiled and joined in, his quiet voice slowly gaining confidence.

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho 

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho 

Gather up all of the crew 

It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew 

Sea-wind blows 

To where? Who knows? 

The waves will be our guide. 

A familiar figure appeared at the edge of the crowd, elegant robes billowing slightly in the cool night breeze. Shen Jiu’s arrival was like a splash of cold water. His sharp gaze swept over the trio, settling on Ace, who was carrying a small horde of prizes. 

“Chu!” Ace called out, waving enthusiastically as he bounded toward him. “You came down the mountain?”

Shen Jiu’s gaze lingered at the mass of items in Ace’s arms. “I received Ming Fan’s transmission talisman message that you would reach the village tonight.”

Ace stepped forward with a cheeky grin. “Perfect timing, I got you a gift!”

Shen Jiu blinked, momentarily caught off guard as Ace somehow produced a long, elegant box. He opened it, revealing a striking hairpin designed like a radiant sunburst. The centrepiece was a golden sun, its fiery rays extending outward in vibrant reds and oranges, crafted with intricate detail to mimic the flickering movement of flames. The craftsmanship was exquisite, but the fiery hues were completely at odds with Shen Jiu’s preference for more toned down colours.

His relationship with fire had always been one of turmoil and pain. Fire was the embodiment of his deepest emotions—anger, hatred, fear, and the trauma of a past he could never escape. The image of the burning Qiu Manor was seared into his memory, a symbol of destruction that reflected his own inner chaos.

But now, fire had taken on a different meaning.

Fire was Ace.

Ace’s flames were not just a destructive force but a source of comfort, warmth, and protection. It was no longer a harbinger of destruction but a gentle reminder of the care and love that had begun to bloom in Shen Jiu’s heart. Ace had shown him that fire could heal, could be the light in the dark, and could offer warmth in the coldest of nights—teaching Shen Jiu that, perhaps, fire was not just something to fear. It could be something to embrace.

Shen Jiu stared at the hairpin, his expression unreadable. “This... is garish.”

Ace laughed. “It’s perfect for you, though! Strong, striking, and impossible to ignore.”

The faintest tinge of pink dusted Shen Jiu’s cheeks. He carefully picked up the hairpin, running his fingers over the intricate design. “At least you have decent taste in quality.”

He didn’t say thank you, but the way he gently tucked the box into his sleeve spoke volumes.

(Ming Fan, ever the astute mood reader, had taken one look at the scene unfolding and promptly grabbed Luo Binghe by the arm. “Let’s go,” he muttered, tugging the younger boy along.

“But why?” Luo Binghe asked, glancing back at Shen Jiu and Ace with a frown of confusion. “Shouldn’t we stay in case Shizun—”

“Just leave them alone,” Ming Fan hissed, steering Binghe firmly towards the crowd. “They need, uh, space. Trust me.”)

Fireworks burst into the sky, painting the night in brilliant hues. The villagers cheered as bursts of light illuminated the festival grounds.

Ace stepped closer to Shen Jiu, his grin softening. “See? Worth coming down for, right?”

Shen Jiu didn’t reply, but he glanced at Ace from the corner of his eye, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You should smile more,” Ace teased, his voice dropping to a softer, almost playful tone. “It’s a waste for a face this pretty to scowl all the time.”

.

.

.

Ace rubbed at the growing bruise on his cheek where Shen Jiu had violently jabbed his fan into it. Shen Jiu was stubbornly looking away from him, intensely focused on watching the fireworks instead. 

“Hey, Chu, can I ask you something?”

Shen Jiu’s eyes glanced at him in acknowledgement.

“If you were a bird, free to fly anywhere, would you fly to a different sky?”

Shen Jiu blinked, not understanding the sudden hypothetical question, but he didn’t miss the serious undertone of Ace's voice. “A bird?” He repeated, thinking it over for a moment before answering. “If I were a bird... I suppose I would fly wherever the wind took me, to another sky if it was to my liking.”

Ace grinned, clearly pleased with the answer. “Yeah? So, you wouldn't mind flying somewhere new, if it felt right?”

Shen Jiu tapped his fan on his chin lightly. “I see no reason not to. A bird has wings for a reason, after all. It may as well use them.”

“That's what I thought,” Ace chuckled.

As the last firework faded into the stars, the cultivator and the pirate stood side by side, the warmth of the festival lingering in the cool night air. 

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho 

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho 

Gather up all of the crew, 

It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew, 

Wave good-bye, 

But don’t you cry, 

Our memories remain. 

Our days are but a passing dream, 

Everlasting though they seem, 

Beneath the moon, 

We’ll meet again, 

The wind’s our lullaby. 

Omake

Ace: Fan Fan is so cute!

Ming Fan: who tf u calling Fan Fan

Ace: Hmm? No one’s talking to you ming fan, i’m talking to my darling cutie horse. I’ve decided to name her Fan Fan :)

Ming Fan: … (fists gripped tight, wishing he has a fan like shen jiu’s so he can whack this sassy pirate on the arse)

[hello-anchan]

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: Thus began Ace’s self-appointed role as errand boy extraordinaire.

Chapter 10/15

While Shen Jiu began to spend more and more of his time buried in the endless scrolls and tomes of Qing Jing Peak’s library, diligently researching a way to send Ace back home, Ace found himself at a bit of a loss. He wasn’t exactly cut out for scholarly work. But he also wasn’t one to sit idle. If he couldn’t help Shen Jiu with his research, then he’d help in other ways.

Thus began Ace’s self-appointed role as errand boy extraordinaire. He ran messages for Shen Jiu, fetched supplies from other peaks, and helped out the disciples with their training and chores. 

For once, Shen Jiu didn’t mind not having the freckled man around as often. The less he had to deal with those self-righteous peak siblings of his, the better. If Ace wanted to shoulder that burden for him, who was Shen Jiu to argue?

—

Bai Zhan Peak 

Shen Jiu heard the telltale sound of a beast being dragged towards the bamboo house before he saw it. Ace’s loud whoop of excitement echoed through the air. A moment later, Liu Qingge emerged from the forest line, carrying a massive, squawking creature slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Its golden feathers glinted in the sunlight, its oversized talons scraping the dirt as it writhed and crowed indignantly. 

Shen Jiu froze on the steps of the bamboo house, staring in horror as the monstrosity was unceremoniously dumped at his feet.

“An Auric Dawn Thunder Rooster,” Liu Qingge announced gruffly, brushing stray feathers off his robes. “Rare. Useful.”

The rooster, as if on cue, flared its wings and let out an ear-splitting cock-a-doodle-doo that echoed across the entire peak.

Shen Jiu pinched the bridge of his nose. “A rooster. You brought me a giant rooster.”

Liu Qingge’s visits to the bamboo house have become a regular (and noisy) occurrence. Shen Jiu was perpetually exasperated, but Ace? He was thrilled. Liu Qingge’s “gifts” were no mere tokens of gratitude—they were massive beasts, formidable monsters, or rare, dangerous creatures that most cultivators would shy away from. Ace, however, was all too happy to drag the hulking carcasses into the bamboo house and call Luo Binghe over to prepare a feast. 

Right on cue, Ace bounded up behind Liu Qingge, wide-eyed and grinning like an idiot. “This is crazy!” he exclaimed. “Look at the size of it! You think it lays giant eggs? Can we eat those?” He stared straight into the rooster’s eyes. “Can we eat it?”

“No, you cannot eat it. Or its eggs. Roosters don’t lay eggs,” Shen Jiu snapped, glaring at the rooster as it broke eye contact with Ace and began pecking at the ground with enough force to crack a stone. He turned his withering gaze on Liu Qingge. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do with this thing? Start a farm?”

To his shock, Liu Qingge laughed. It was short and rough, but it was undeniably a laugh. “You’re resourceful. Figure it out.”

Shen Jiu stared at him, utterly blindsided. None of his peak lord siblings had ever laughed like that in front of him before. Dirty glares and scathing insults? Shen Jiu could handle those in his sleep. But an honest-to-goodness laugh?

He tore his gaze away from his junior martial brother, an uncharacteristic wave of awkwardness creeping up on him. He jabbed his fan in Ace’s direction, his voice strained. “Take it to Yu Shou Peak. Let them deal with it.”

Ace pouted. “What if they don’t want it?”

“They’re beast tamers,” Shen Jiu replied, his tone laced with exasperation. “If they can handle hellhound dogs and nine-headed serpents, they can handle one oversized chicken.”

The rooster squawked indignantly, flapping its wings hard enough to stir up a small whirlwind of dust.

“Fine, fine,” Ace relented, grabbing the rope from Liu Qingge and wrangling the bird like it was a wild bull. “But if it lays a giant egg, I’m coming back for it.”

“You do that,” Shen Jiu said dryly, already turning back to the bamboo house.

“Oi,” Liu Qingge jerked his head at Ace. “Spar first.”

Ace perked up immediately. “Hell yeah!” 

Without hesitation, he tossed the rooster’s rope around the nearest patch of bamboo stalks, leaving the disgruntled bird tethered as if it could stay put like a loyal pet. 

The rooster squawked again, clearly unimpressed with the situation, while Ace and Liu Qingge stepped into the clearing, already cracking their knuckles and stretching.

Shen Jiu, halfway through the threshold of his bamboo house, immediately snapped his head back. “No. Absolutely not. Take your barbaric squabbles elsewhere!”

Every visit seemed to end with Liu Qingge insisting on sparring with Ace—though the ‘sparring’ was more akin to an all-out brawl. The bamboo forest around Qing Jing Peak occasionally bore the scars of their enthusiastic bouts, much to Shen Jiu’s growing irritation.

“He started it,” Ace thumbed at Liu Qingge.

Liu Qingge crossed his arms, unapologetic. “He agreed.”

“You two are not fighting here,” Shen Jiu hissed, “without my permission, on my peak, while your oversized chicken is tied to my bamboo.” He jabbed his fan towards the rooster, which was now pecking away at the bamboo stalks with alarming ferocity.

Ace looked at Liu Qingge. “Guess we should take this to your peak?”

“Fine.” Liu Qingge grabbed the rooster’s rope and tossed it at Ace.

Slinging the rope over his shoulder, Ace waved at Shen Jiu. “See ya later, Chu!” 

“Don’t come back,” Shen Jiu retorted as the duo left, giant squawking rooster in tow.

Since Liu Qingge and Ace developed an unexpected rapport, Ace now regularly took trips to Bai Zhan Peak, where he was quickly becoming a favourite (and a terror) among the disciples there. His unorthodox fighting style threw even the most seasoned fighters into disarray.

“This is my kind of peak,” Ace declared gleefully, holding a dazed disciple in a headlock while three others scrambled to pin him down.

Liu Qingge crossed his arms as he criticised his disciples. “Too brash. No discipline. Need more training.”

Ace just laughed, flipping several disciples onto their backs. 

Meanwhile, the Auric Dawn Thunder Rooster happily pecked at any Bai Zhan disciples lying on the ground, squawking like a drill sergeant as it bullied them back to their feet and back into training.

—

Xian Shu Peak 

The opposite of Bai Zhan Peak in many ways—the all-female Xian Shu Peak was known for its elegance, grace, and artistry, with a focus on more cerebral and refined aspects of cultivation. But despite the serene and orderly atmosphere of the peak, whenever Ace popped by for a visit, the place would quickly become…a scene straight out of an idol’s fan meeting, to put it in modern terms.

It had started innocently enough—Ace was there to help lift heavy stones, move boxes, and carry supplies. But it didn't take long for the Xian Shu disciples to notice something—Ace looked absolutely stunning when he was working. 

His muscles would flex under the strain, his wheat-coloured skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, and his focus sharp as he lifted and carried the heavy objects effortlessly. 

It certainly did not help that Ace seemed to love leaving his top half exposed. The sunlight would gleam off his tanned skin, making the whole scene even more captivating. A tattoo of thick, black lines in foreign letters ran along his left bicep, while a brutal burn scar on his torso and back marked him as a battle-worn soul. The contrast between his rugged, inked appearance and the delicate, jade-like beauty of refined cultivators was striking.

“Wow,” was all one young disciple could whisper.

Another disciple nudged her friend. “This is definitely the kind of hard work I’d be willing to do.”

One of the more senior disciples couldn’t help but sigh dramatically. “I think I just found my new inspiration.” She grabbed her fan and fluttered it in front of her face as though she couldn't handle the heat. Inspiration for what exactly, will remain unsaid.

Ace, oblivious to the attention, hummed a casual tune as he worked. He was so used to physical labour from his pirating days that it had become second nature to him. 

“So, Ace-zhang,” one of the disciples began, “you've been around a while now, right? Do you have any, uh, interesting stories that you can share with us?” About your relationship with Shen-shibo, was left unsaid. She gave him a look that was a little too eager, and the other disciples exchanged knowing glances, their eyes glinting with a hint of mischievousness. 

“Uh, stories? You mean like...pirates and treasure?” A grin spread across Ace’s face. He had a knack for telling wild tales about his adventures. “I can definitely tell you some of those.”

But the disciples giggled, and one of them leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “No, no, we mean…stories inspired by real life. You know, the kind where people, uh, have... complicated relationships.”

Ace blinked, his confusion deepening. “Complicated? You mean like... fighting and then making up afterward?”

The disciples squealed and exchanged knowing looks again. Ace had no idea what he’d just walked into.

“I can see why you and my brother are getting along well.” A young woman spoke up. Her face was veiled, leaving only her eyes visible.

Ace furrowed his brow, squinting slightly. “Your brother?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve heard a little bit about your adventures from him.”

“Who's your brother?”

“The Bai Zhan Peak Lord, Liu Qingge.”

“Wait—what?! Liu Qingge?!”

The disciples erupted in laughter, and Ace looked back and forth between them and the veiled girl. 

“Your brother is Liu Qingge? No way. He has a little sister?” Ace squinted at her again, his mind trying to process the sudden connection. “Well, you’re...definitely not as blunt as he is. But if he’s any indication, you’re probably really pretty under there, huh?”

Liu Mingyan blinked in surprise at the compliment, a faint blush hidden under the veil. But she was a woman on a mission, so she powered through. “Speaking of my brother, what do you think about him compared to, ahem, Shen-shibo?”

(After all, she is Liusu Mianhua, the author of a certain erotic book that’s been making its rounds – art provided by a certain female disciple from Qing Jing Peak who wishes to remain unnamed. She has to make use of this opportunity to get some fresh content and inspiration straight from the man himself. Is this a love triangle she's sensing???)

For a blissful moment, Ace was left all alone whilst the Xian Shu disciples were ushered away for lessons. Qi Qingqi, noticing her chance, glided towards him with light, measured steps. She flashed him a smile when he noticed her approach, her voice deceptively soft as she spoke. “It’s truly commendable to see you taking the initiative to help here. As a guest, you are under no obligation to do so.”

Ace waved away her words politely. “Not at all, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty."

She let out a thoughtful hum, then leaned casually against a nearby post, watching him for a moment before speaking again. “Makes me wonder if there is something, or someone, you’re avoiding?”

Ace quirked an eyebrow, not catching her drift. “Avoid? What for?”

Qi Qingqi let out a little sigh, as though preparing to explain something to a child. “Love. Relationships. Romance.” She glanced sideways, trying to gauge his reaction. “There’s something complicated about it, wouldn’t you say?”

Ace blinked, seemingly still clueless. “Complicated? Nah. It’s pretty simple. You like someone, they like you, end of story. All that other ‘complicated’ stuff is just drama.”

Qi Qingqi studied him for a long beat, then shook her head with a small laugh. She couldn't tell whether he was purposefully being dense or if he was truly that oblivious. “Ace-gongzi, sometimes you have to take a step forward, make a move. You can’t just stand by and wait for everything to fall into your lap.” She tilted her head slightly, a knowing and teasing smile painting her rouged lips. “For example, maybe a kiss could help clear things up. You never know until you try.”

Ace let out a lazy laugh, rolling his shoulders in that nonchalant way. “A kiss, huh?” He pursed his lips dramatically and blew an exaggerated kiss in the air, pretending to be flirty. “Is that how you handle things? Just kiss people and hope for the best?”

“Mn, you’re dodging again,” Qi Qingqi noted, amused. “But fine, keep pretending. It’s your loss.” She turned, giving him a sly wink over her shoulder. “You know, waiting too long can be like watching a bird take flight when you could have caught it in your hands. Once it’s gone, it’s gone—no second chances.”

Ace watched her retreating figure, the grin on his face faltering as her words settled in. 

“Hey, Lady Qi,” he called after her.

She paused, glancing back with a raised brow.

“Just curious,” he started, feigning a casual tone. “Say you did catch a bird. Think it’d stick around? Or would it always look for a way to fly back to where it came from?”

Qi Qingqi let out a quiet laugh, tucking her hands into her sleeves. “That depends. A bird isn’t bound by the sky—it chooses where it feels at home. And if someone cared enough to hold it gently, why would it want to leave?”

Ace’s expression remained inscrutable as he gave a small nod. “I see. Thanks for that.”

Qi Qingqi studied him a moment longer before turning back towards the path. “Oh, would you let Shen-shixiong know I’d like him to drop by for some tea soon? I have to let him know all about this new painter I’ve discovered in Lihua Village.”

Ace gave her a thumbs up in response as she walked away. Since Liu Qingge had sworn to clear up their misunderstandings, the relationship between Shen Jiu and the other Peak Lords was slowly but surely improving. The tension that once lingered between them had started to ease, and Shen Jiu himself seemed to have grown less guarded.

Left alone again, Ace stared at the setting sun on the horizon. He knew Shen Jiu wasn’t a bird in a cage. But if the chance came, would Shen Jiu want to stay by his side under a different sky altogether?

—

Qian Cao Peak 

The air here smelt of herbs and medicinal plants, and the atmosphere was quiet in a different way from Qing Jing Peak’s scholarly ambience.

Ace had made it a habit to pop by the medical peak to check on injured Qing Jing Peak disciples. A few of them were resting on the infirmary beds, nursing the bruises and cuts from their recent training sessions. 

“Looking a little banged up there, huh?” Ace grinned, walking over to one of the beds. Without missing a beat, he gave the disciple a fist bump. “You’ll be back to kicking butt in no time.”

The disciple chuckled, appreciating the encouragement, though he winced slightly when Ace’s fist connected. Ace wasn’t exactly known for his gentle touch.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Mu Qingfang said dryly from the doorway.

Ace gave him a mock salute, flashing his signature grin. “Here to help as emotional support.”

A wry smile flickered at Mu Qingfang’s lips. “If you really want to help, we could use your strength elsewhere.” He gestured towards a stack of large crates near the back of the infirmary. “Those boxes need to be moved to the storeroom. Can you manage that?”

“Say no more,” Ace marched over to the crates. Without missing a beat, he hoisted one, two, three, four up with ease and ambled towards the Qian Cao Peak Lord.

Mu Qingfang turned to lead the way. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed or worried that you’re lifting such heavy crates so easily.”

“Eh, worrying is overrated.” With a soft grunt, Ace dropped the crates in the storeroom, turning back to Mu Qingfang with an energetic smile. 

Mu Qingfang chuckled, then motioned towards a shelf filled with jars of dried herbs. “While you’re here, why not take a moment to learn something useful? I’ll teach you a few things about common herbs that could be used for minor ailments.”

Ace scratched the back of his head, looking very uninterested. “Ehhh, I’d rather leave this stuff to the experts like you, Doc.”

“...Perhaps I could show you a few herbs that might help Shen-shixiong with his health?” 

Hook, line, sinker. 

Mu Qingfang held back a sly smile as a hint of curiosity crept into Ace’s expression. “It would be useful to have some knowledge about herbs that can help with fatigue, stress… You know how he is.”

—

An Ding Peak 

Ace stood in the doorway of Shang Qinghua’s office, speechless as he observed the mounds of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the second. He had felt a bit bad after witnessing the peak lord’s, er, minor breakdown during the meeting.

“Hey, uh...you look like you could use a hand,” Ace offered with a sheepish grin. “I’m good with organising stuff. I can help with some of the paperwork.”

Shang Qinghua glanced up from the pile, looking sceptical but grateful. “I’m not sure you’re the paperwork type…”

Ace waved him off. “Nah, trust me, I’ve done my fair share of it. I may not look it, but I used to lead an entire division.” He thumped his chest with his fist confidently.

Hmmm, right, he was the Second Division Commander of a thousand-men-strong pirate crew. “Well, if you’re really sure…”

“I got this,” Ace confidently marched over to the desk, yanking the nearest stack of documents toward him. “Let’s get this done. You can relax.” 

Then he actually looked at the papers. His eyes skimmed over the neat rows of characters, but his brain failed to process anything. His grin faltered as realisation hit him like a brick. “Uhh...” He glanced up balefully at Shang Qinghua. “So... I can’t actually read this.”

Shang Qinghua froze for a moment, then blinked, face expressionless. “...You can’t read?”

Ace scratched his head awkwardly. “Err... I mean, I can... uh... wing it?”

For the first time ever, Ace was kicked off a peak. Still, going this long without being booted was quite the achievement for him.

—

Qiong Ding Peak 

Yue Qingyuan looked up from his desk, his expression softening when he saw Ace. “Ah, Ace-gongzi. Qingqiu-shidi... He asked you to receive the papers in his place, then?”

Ace nodded with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

Yue Qingyuan gave a tired sigh. “Don’t feel bad about it,” he said, his voice carrying a note of quiet understanding. “This is just how he acts towards me.”

Ace, caught off guard by the comment, felt a twinge of guilt that he didn’t quite know how to address. The last thing he wanted was to make Yue Qingyuan feel worse. He shifted uneasily as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, I heard that he’s been…different lately,” Ace said carefully, unsure if he was overstepping. “Seems like his relationship with the other Peak Lords has been improving.”

“Ah, yes. Liu-shidi has been making reparations for past misunderstandings. It truly makes me happy to see my Peak siblings strengthening their bonds.”

“Yeah, and Chu too, he’s been working on himself too, y’know.”

Yue Qingyuan gave a wistful smile. “Is that so...”

“Actually, he told me a little about, uh, you guys’ history with each other,” Ace blurted out before he could stop himself.

Surprise coloured Yue Qingyuan’s expression. “Oh? He told you?” A warmth entered his gaze. “Xiao Jiu must feel really comfortable around you. He’s always been more guarded than he lets on. I’m glad to see he has someone like you looking out for him.”

“Yeah, I guess he does...” Ace mumbled, his words trailing off as he tried to find the right thing to say next. There was an uncomfortable silence between them, the weight of the unspoken lingering in the air. It was clear that Ace wasn’t sure how to comfort Yue Qingyuan, but the older cultivator seemed to sense that, giving him a small, knowing smile.

“It’s been years, and I have been trying to make things right, but... Xiao Jiu hasn’t come to me. He’s been avoiding me. I keep trying to fix things, but Xiao Jiu is still so distant.”

Ace took a deep breath, then spoke. “He talks about you a lot. A lot more than you might think.” He met Yue Qingyuan’s gaze, sensing the depth of the older man’s guilt. “He cares about you. He’s just... confused. And scared. Because you always avoid talking about what happened in the past.”

Yue Qingyuan’s shoulders sagged as his eyes flickered down to his desk. “I failed him. It’s all my fault.”

The pain in his voice was unmistakable, and Ace could feel the truth beginning to unfold. “Why didn’t you come back for him? Why didn’t you try harder to find him?”

Yue Qingyuan’s face tightened, the memories clearly taking him back to that fateful time. His eyes seemed distant for a moment, lost in a past he could never change. 

“I did come back,” he said quietly. “But I was too late. By the time I reached the Qiu manor, it had already been burnt down and Xiao Jiu was gone. I had no idea where he was, until we crossed each other's paths again by coincidence.”

The revelation hit Ace like a physical blow. His heart sank as the gravity of the situation took hold. “Too late? Why did it take you so long to come back?”

The Sect Leader’s voice was tinged with regret as he revealed his version of events. He had wanted to return and save Shen Jiu as soon as possible, but in his haste to bond with his sword, the process had backfired, nearly costing him his life. The consequences of that mistake had kept him confined to the peak for years, helpless to do anything.

Ace’s eyes widened in shock. “And you didn’t think to tell him about this? You didn’t think it was important enough to explain?”

Yue Qingyuan shot back in a strained voice. “Why should I? It would only make Xiao Jiu feel guiltier than he already does.”

“But right now, he thinks it is all his fault! He thinks he’s some useless gutter rat that you abandoned. You want him to keep thinking that? You want him to suffer in silence?”

Yue Qingyuan was silent for a moment, clearly wrestling with his own emotions. “...It’s difficult. I’ve tried to make things better. I’ve asked to meet him, but he always avoids me. I send him gifts, but...he probably just throws them away.”

“Gifts?”

Yue Qingyuan’s expression shifted to one of quiet fondness. “Rare spiritual teas, embroidered silks, expensive inks, delicate fans… especially fans. Xiao Jiu… Back then, his eyes always wandered to the beautiful fans on display in shops—shops that we could never afford to even enter.”

A lightbulb went off of Ace’s head. “...But he does use your gifts.”

A wry smile crossed the Sect Master’s usually composed face. “That’s unlikely. I’ve never once seen him use any. And Xiao Jiu only ever uses the same bamboo fan whenever I see him during meetings.”

Ace began waving his arms around wildly in excitement, feeling like a genius for connecting the pieces. “He changes his fans all the time! I should know, I always keep getting smacked by them. One day it’s a pale silver-blue fan, the next it’s a steel-plated one with a solid weight to it, then a white fan with gold leaf accents... And there was also a yellow and gold one, and–and—!”

Yue Qingyuan’s face lit up with recognition. “Those...those are the fans I’ve been gifting him. But why—?”

Ace slammed his hands onto the desk, facing him firmly. “See? He loves you. He still sees you as his Qi-ge. He’s never stopped waiting for you.”

Yue Qingyuan was floored by the discovery.

Ace pushed on. “You need to tell him the truth, no matter how painful you think it is. He’s an adult, he can decide for himself how to deal with you afterwards.”

With a deep sigh, Yue Qingyuan finally spoke. “You’re right. Thank you for telling me this.”

Ace nodded, his expression resolute. “Don’t thank me. Just... Make it right, alright?”

Yue Qingyuan met his gaze straight-on, giving him a small, grateful smile. 

—

Qing Jing Peak 

Later, Ace found himself standing outside the door to Shen Jiu’s study. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how to approach the situation. Finally, he knocked, and when Shen Jiu called for him to enter, Ace stepped inside.

The Peak Lord was seated behind his desk, the cool, composed air he always exuded surrounding him like a veil. His sharp, almond-shaped eyes glinted with a natural aloofness, their usual coldness untouched by anything—until they met Ace’s gaze.

For a brief, fleeting moment, the sharp edges softened, and something unspoken flickered in his eyes—a warmth that couldn’t quite be hidden. Though his expression remained mostly neutral, the faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, a subtle invitation, or perhaps acknowledgment. It was a smile not often seen, and certainly not for anyone but Ace.

Ace hesitated for a moment, shuffling on his feet before blurting, “Hey, uh... About you and the Sect Master...”

Shen Jiu tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “...What?”

“Nothing.” Ace waved it off quickly, feeling heat rise to his face. It wasn’t his place to speak for Yue Qingyuan. He shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just…wanted to tell you that I know what it’s like to hide things. To wonder if you’re worth saving.”

Shen Jiu’s gaze bore into him, judging and dissecting. But slowly, his shoulders relaxed, and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Why are you suddenly being so introspective?”

Ace grinned sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Remember what happened back in the Lingxi Caves?”

Shen Jiu leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow arching. “So you do know what you did.”

“Well, I think I do.” Ace sat down across from him. “It’s called Conqueror’s Haki. It’s, uh, kind of like... a manifestation of someone’s willpower. The really strong kind. Only a select few people are born with it. It’s not something you can train to get—it’s just... there.”

“Ah, so you’re special, hm?” Shen Jiu teased, his tone mocking but not unkind.

A shadow passed over Ace's expression. “I hate it.”

The mood in the room shifted immediately. Shen Jiu watched Ace closely, not pressing, but simply waiting in patient silence.

Ace exhaled, his voice quieter now. “It’s not just strength. It’s like... forcing people to bend under your will without even meaning to. And it’s a constant reminder of the kind of person I never want to be.”

He fidgeted with his fingers, tracing an invisible pattern on the table, his thumb absently rubbing over the rough edge of a callus. 

“I hate it because it reminds me of the kind of power my father had. My biological father, Gol D. Roger. In my world, he’s known as the Pirate King. He died 22 years ago, but back when he was alive, he was notorious. Everyone hated him, everyone wanted him dead. The Marines executed him after they caught him, but that wasn’t enough. They wanted to erase him entirely—even the possibility of his legacy.

“When they heard a rumour that he may have fathered a child, they scoured every corner of the seas,” Ace continued, his voice tightening. “And on the island he was last seen on, they rounded up every pregnant woman, every unborn child, and that was the last anyone ever saw of them. Who knows how many hundreds or thousands must’ve died.” He paused, his jaw clenching. “The World Government covered it all up.”

Shen Jiu didn’t speak, but his expression was taut with restrained emotion.

“I was born two years after my father’s death. My mother—” Ace’s voice cracked slightly, but he pushed forward. “She held me in her womb for twenty months, long past the normal term, to keep the Marines off her trail. She sacrificed everything to make sure I could be born safely. And in the end… it killed her.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke up. Then, quietly, “Your mother was a strong woman.”

Ace smiled faintly at Shen Jiu’s praise, though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Yeah. She was. I wish I’d known her. I took on her name, Portgas, to honour her. After she passed, Gramps – my adoptive grandfather – took me in. He was a Marine but he risked everything to raise me in secret.”

He took in a shuddering breath. “I was five when he told me who my real father was. Five when I learned why I couldn’t live in the open like the other kids. Five when I understood that strangers in bars were cursing my father’s name and talking about how any child of his didn’t deserve to be born.”

Shen Jiu’s fingers curled slightly, his knuckles whitening. “Ace…”

“I grew up wondering why I was born,” Ace continued, his voice shaking. “Why did my mother risk her life for me? Someone like me, with blood like mine—what’s the point? Do I even deserve to live?” He swallowed hard, his throat painfully dry. “I found my answer the day I was set to be executed.”

Shen Jiu’s eyes widened in alarm. “Executed?”

Ace nodded, a humourless laugh escaping him. “Yep. I messed up. Got handed over to the Marines, and once they figured out who I was, they didn’t waste any time. They announced my execution date almost immediately.”

Realisation dawned on Shen Jiu’s face. “The war—!”

“Yeah,” Ace said, his voice quiet but steady. “They dragged me out in front of the world to kill me. But guess what?” A small smile appeared on his face. “My family came for me. My captain, my crewmates, the allies we’d made over the years—hell, even my little brother, that dumbass. They all showed up, risking their lives to save me. Me. The son of the Pirate King, the one everyone said should never have been born.” His voice broke, but his eyes shone with something stronger than grief—gratitude. “And for the first time in my life, I felt like I wanted to live. I deserve to live.”

Ace’s words hung heavy in the air, his cheeks wet with tears he didn't realise he was shedding. “I spent my whole life believing I was better off dead. And yet, on the day I was supposed to die, I realised—I want to live. I want to live. There are so many people I want to live for.”

“Ace…” Shen Jiu’s voice was soft, hesitant, but full of affection.

Ace sniffled, his lips twitching into a smile. “You saved me, Chu. I could’ve died. Hell, I should’ve died. But you gave me the chance to start over. I’m alive because of you.”

Shen Jiu didn’t know how to respond—didn’t know if he��could respond. When Ace began sobbing in earnest, Shen Jiu panicked, reaching out to awkwardly wipe away his tears. His fingers brushed against Ace’s freckled cheeks, hesitant but gentle.

“Chu,” Ace murmured, grabbing Shen Jiu’s wrists and tugging him closer. “Thank you. Thank you for letting me live.”

As they stared into each other’s eyes, Shen Jiu found that he couldn’t muster a response. There was a lump in the back of his throat, a tightness in his chest. “Why are you telling me this now?” he finally asked, a tremor in his voice.

Ace smiled through his tears. “I guess I just want you to know—you deserve to live, too.”

Shen Jiu’s lips parted in protest. “I’m not dying anytime soon.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Ace said firmly. “You’re a survivor, Chu. But survival isn’t the same as living. You’ve spent so long living out of spite, but there’s more to life than that. Like family. Or adventure.”

–Or you.– 

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, unexpectedly, Shen Jiu pulled Ace into a hug. It was stiff and hesitant, but it was real. “If it is of any comfort,” Shen Jiu murmured, his voice gentler than Ace had ever heard it, “Your father’s sins were never yours to carry.”

Ace tightened the embrace, burying his face in Shen Jiu’s shoulder, comforted by the faint, calming earthy scent of bamboo. Shen Jiu felt the rough scars on Ace’s back beneath his fingers and thought, with a pang of relief, that they were proof Ace had survived. Proof that he was still here—living.

—

I don’t want him to leave. 

—

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/158812015

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “…You brought me to a brothel?”

Chapter 9/15

The warmth of Ace’s embrace lingered long after the man had left the room. Alone now, Shen Jiu found himself seated by the window, staring at the crescent moon hanging low in the night sky. A light breeze stirred the curtains, and with it came the faintest echo of laughter—hazy memories from a time when the nights weren’t so cold, and he wasn’t so utterly alone.

Back then, he had been a new disciple, lost and out of place in a sect where everyone else seemed to belong. It was only because Yue Qingyuan had vouched for him that Shen Jiu had even been allowed to join the sect. 

Shen Jiu had thought freedom would taste sweet, but instead, it came laced with discomfort and fear.

Among the disciples, he stood out like a jagged stone in a river of polished pebbles. Most were from noble cultivator families, their robes pristine and their manners refined. Shen Jiu, in contrast, carried the invisible weight of his past—the grime of servitude that clung to his soul, no matter how hard he tried to scrub it clean. He couldn't relate to their laughter or camaraderie, nor could he bring himself to trust their words.

The disciples’ dormitories were the worst. He shared a room with other boys, their voices loud, their presence oppressive. Nights were unbearable. The sound of footsteps, the creak of beds, even the mere shadow of movement was enough to send him spiralling into panic. His memories of the Qiu household were too fresh, too sharp. The men in that place had been monsters, their cruelty etched into his body and mind. By contrast, the women had shown him small mercies. 

In his fractured world, women were safe; men were not. 

Every night in the dorms felt like a slow unravelling. Sleep was a distant dream, and he spent most nights staring at the ceiling, every nerve on edge. The fear, the exhaustion, the isolation—it all built up until he couldn’t take it anymore. One night, he slipped out and wandered aimlessly, his feet carrying him down the mountain to the town nestled at its base.

It was there, by sheer chance, that he stumbled upon the Warm Red Pavilion. Its warm lights and the sound of laughter spilling from its doors felt like an oasis in the desert of his mind. Desperate for anything that didn’t feel like suffocation, he stepped inside.

The women there greeted him with curiosity at first—a young disciple from the esteemed Cang Qiong Mountain Sect was an unusual sight—but their initial surprise quickly gave way to kindness. He wasn’t there for the reasons most men were, and they understood that almost immediately.

Over time, they became his haven. The brothel workers treated him like a younger brother, teasing him affectionately, gently scolding him to take better care of himself. They gave him a place to sleep without fear, without the weight of his past crushing his chest. For the first time in years, Shen Jiu could close his eyes and rest, lulled by the soft murmurs of their voices and the faint scent of incense.

As he grew older and ascended to the position of Peak Lord, his visits grew less frequent. The dormitories were no longer an issue, but the rumours being spread by the other Peak Lords—particularly Liu Qingge—were harder to ignore. They didn’t understand, and Shen Jiu couldn’t bring himself to explain. His reputation as a cultivator and a Peak Lord couldn’t bear the scrutiny. Reluctantly, he stopped going.

Still, the Warm Red Pavilion remained a treasured memory, a place that had given him solace when he needed it most. 

Home.

Ace had a home to go back to. 

Shen Jiu wondered if perhaps the Warm Red Pavilion was the closest thing to home he had for himself.

The following day, Shen Jiu invited Ace to accompany him on an outing outside the mountain. 

Ace’s face lit up immediately, the subdued air he’d carried since their conversation the night before vanishing like smoke in the wind. “We’re heading out? Where to?” he asked, already brimming with excitement. Being confined to one place had started to wear on him, and the idea of travelling, even briefly, had his energy buzzing.

“You’ll see,” Shen Jiu replied, not offering any further details. Ace didn’t press, though he practically bounced on his feet as they made their way down the winding mountain paths to the town below.

When they arrived at the town, Shen Jiu led Ace down quieter streets until they stopped in front of a nondescript building. From the outside, it seemed modest enough, but the laughter and music spilling out of the open windows hinted at the lively atmosphere within. Ace tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “What is this place?”

Shen Jiu didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed the doors open.

The lively hum inside paused for a split second as curious eyes turned towards the entrance. Then, a wave of recognition swept through the room, and the silence broke into cheers and delighted exclamations.

“Look who’s finally come to visit!” a voice rang out, and Shen Jiu barely had time to react before a woman with bright, sparkling eyes rushed forward to envelop him in a warm hug.

“A-Jiu, I thought you’d forgotten about us!” another woman chimed in, playfully swatting his arm as she joined in. Around them, more of the brothel workers gathered, smiling and chattering, their excitement palpable.

The brothel madam, an elegant woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile, made her way through the crowd. “Now, now, give him some room to breathe,” she scolded lightly, though she sounded more affectionate than stern. Her gaze fell on Shen Jiu. “It’s been a while, A-Jiu. I was starting to think you’d moved on and left us behind.”

Ace watched the scene unfold, realisation dawning as his sharp eyes took in the decor and the way the women interacted with Shen Jiu. The warm lighting, the faint perfume in the air, the subtle flirtatious energy…

He leaned closer to Shen Jiu, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Chu… You brought me to a brothel?” he asked, his voice low enough not to be overheard by the workers.

Shen Jiu stiffened slightly but refused to show any embarrassment. “And?” he replied coolly.

Ace’s grin only widened. “And nothing. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Shen Jiu raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge Ace’s reaction, but all he saw was the same easy, nonjudgmental warmth in the pirate’s eyes.

“Relax. You don’t have to explain yourself. I trust you,” Ace said. Then, playfully, he added, “But, uh, if this is what you do for fun around here, I’m starting to think this trip is going to be way more interesting than I thought.”

That got him a light smack on the shoulder, courtesy of Shen Jiu’s fan. “Stop running your mouth,” the Peak Lord muttered, though the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed his composure.

Ace laughed, unbothered, and rubbed the spot exaggeratedly.

The brothel madam ushered Shen Jiu and Ace into a cosy private room.

Once seated, Shen Jiu’s usual guarded posture softened in the familiarity of the setting. “The women here… they’re like sisters to me,” he began. He glanced at Ace, who was listening attentively. “When I first came to the sect, I couldn’t sleep. The dormitories felt suffocating—” He paused, the words catching briefly in his throat. 

Ace didn’t interrupt, simply waiting and listening patiently.

“I found this place by chance,” Shen Jiu continued. “They gave me a place to rest. I stopped visiting as often after I became a Peak Lord, but they will always be important to me.”

Ace leaned in. “Sounds like you found yourself a good family here,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.”

As he spoke, Shen Jiu noticed Ace’s hand sliding across the table, slowly, almost absentmindedly, inching towards his side. Reaching out to…to what, Shen Jiu would never know because the door slid open and the brothel madam returned, accompanied by a few of the girls carrying trays of snacks and tea. The women moved easily around the room, setting the trays down on the low table before settling in comfortably on the cushions, their laughter and chatter filling the space.

(For an instant, Shen Jiu had thought that Ace wanted to hold his hand, but that was ridiculous. Right?)

Shen Jiu scoffed at himself, forcing his attention back to the group. Ace was already charming the women effortlessly. Figures.

“Actually, I feel like you all probably have better stories about him. Come on, share something embarrassing. Something good.”

The room filled with soft laughter as the women exchanged amused glances. The brothel madam shook her head with a smirk. “Nice try, but A-Jiu’s secrets are safe with us.”

“Not even one?” Ace pouted, drawing more laughter. “Come on, I’m harmless!”

“Not a chance,” another chimed in, waving him off. “A-Jiu’s already scary enough when he’s annoyed. We wouldn’t dare.”

Ace turned to Shen Jiu, his lips jutting out in a mock pout. “You’re no fun, ‘A-Jiu’. Can’t you tell them to spill at least one?”

Shen Jiu, decidedly focusing on nursing a cup of tea, didn’t even glance up. “I’m not responsible for your disappointment,” he drawled.

Ace sighed theatrically. “Well, fine. I guess I’ll just have to make up my own stories then.”

That earned him a round of excited encouragement from the women. 

A small smile inadvertently graced Shen Jiu’s lips, which he hid as he took a sip from his cup.

“To be fair, the fire wasn’t that big. And you cultivators really need to up your fire safety game.” 

Laughter bubbled up in response to Ace’s story, but it was quickly interrupted by a loud commotion from outside. Shouts echoed through the walls, muffled but unmistakable. The madam’s smile faltered for a split second before she turned towards the door. “Probably a rowdy customer who can’t wait for us to open,” she muttered, brushing her hands together as if ready to handle the situation. “I’ll go sort them out.”

But before she could move, the door burst open with a force that rattled the frame.

Standing in the doorway was Liu Qingge, his glare sharp and disdainful.

“Shen Qingqiu,” he said, his voice cold as ice, “Should’ve known. An unsavoury place like this…” He stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over the scene with barely contained disgust.

Ace’s cheerful demeanour shifted, his expression now placid as he watched the Bai Zhan Peak Lord. Shen Jiu remained still, face impassive, though his fingers tightened imperceptibly around his fan.

Liu Qingge’s glare snapped back to Shen Jiu. “Saved my life. Doesn’t mean there’s respect.” Contempt dripped from every syllable he spoke, as if the life debt he owed Shen Jiu was an unbearable burden. 

Behind him, Shang Qinghua trailed in, looking anything but pleased. 

Why, oh why, did Mu-shidi have to saddle me with this impossible task? Shang Qinghua lamented internally. ‘Make sure Liu-shixiong doesn’t push himself too hard’, he says. Like I can stop a raging bull! And now the bull’s found its target in the freaking brothel of all places!  

“And what, you came all the way here to judge him? You don’t even know why he’s here.”

Liu Qingge’s glare shifted towards Ace. “Entire sect knows. Visits here started as a disciple. No shame, no discretion.” His hand tightened around his sword hilt. “A stain on Cang Qiong.”

Shen Jiu’s heart skipped a beat at the accusation.

Shang Qinghua sighed heavily, stepping closer to Liu Qingge. “Well, actually, Liu-shidi was looking for you two to—”

“Rumours don’t disappear,” Liu Qingge cut him off. “I’ll never respect you. Not after everything I’ve seen.”

Liu Qingge’s words rang out, each one cutting deeper into Shen Jiu’s silence. Shen Jiu, ever stoic, refused to rise to the bait, but Ace saw right through it. This wasn’t restraint; this was resignation. And that pissed him off.

“Even if he was here for fun, so what?” Ace growled, moving to stand up. “Good for him! If he’s getting some action, what’s it to you?”

The room froze. Shen Jiu’s lips twitched upward, caught off guard by the sheer crassness of Ace’s defence. Meanwhile, Liu Qingge’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

“You—!” Liu Qingge snapped, drawing his blade in one fluid motion. “Watch your tongue.”

“You should watch your own,” Ace shot back.

Liu Qingge instantly lunged, his sword gleaming as it sliced through the air—but it passed through Ace harmlessly, the pirate’s body erupting into flames where the blade should have met flesh.

Liu Qingge staggered back, momentarily thrown.

Ace capitalised on the confusion, his body a living blaze as he laughed. “What’s wrong? Never fought with fire before?”

The clash that followed was fierce and chaotic. Liu Qingge, skilled and precise, struggled to find a way to land a solid blow on Ace. The pirate darted around him, flames licking at his surroundings. Fire pooled in the corners of the room and danced along the walls, though curiously, it left no scorch marks.

The brothel madam and her workers huddled to the side, their faces pale with worry. “The shop!” one of them cried. “It’s going to burn down!”

“It won’t,” Shen Jiu said calmly, his voice cutting through the panic.

The women hesitated, but their fear eased as they looked closer. The flames didn’t spread recklessly; instead, they burned in isolated spots, leaving the wood and fabric beneath untouched.

Liu Qingge’s movements grew more erratic as his frustration mounted. He was used to fighting creatures of immense strength or speed, but this was unlike anything he’d faced before. In one final move, Ace surged forward, pinning Liu Qingge to the ground with a hand glowing with heat, though not enough to burn.

Liu Qingge glared up at him, his sword knocked aside. Ace, crouched over his chest with a victorious grin, held him down firmly.

“Listen up,” Ace said, his voice calm but firm. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’ve got it all wrong. We’re just here to visit family.”

Liu Qingge sneered, though his tone lacked its earlier bite. “Doesn’t matter. Shen Qingqiu is still a terrible person.”

Ace’s brow furrowed. “Why do you keep saying that?”

Liu Qingge’s eyes flashed with anger. “He tried to kill me.”

“...A little more detail would be helpful,” Ace chirped, but he only received a menacing glare from the man underneath him. He turned his head towards Shen Jiu, who stood a short distance away with the brothel workers. “Is that true?”

Shen Jiu didn’t answer, his silence stretching painfully.

It was Shang Qinghua who broke it, stepping out from the corner he’d been hiding in. “Uh… okay, this has gone way too far.” He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Liu-shidi, you’ve got it wrong. Shen-shixiong didn’t try to kill you back then. He saved your life.”

Liu Qingge’s head snapped towards him. “What?”

“Oh?” Ace echoed curiously.

Shang Qinghua sighed, running a hand through his frazzled hair. “It was during a mission years ago, back when the three of us were still disciples. Liu-shidi, the spirit beast you were fighting? There was a second one coming at you from behind. Shen-shixiong took it down. But you were too busy to notice and just assumed the worst.”

Liu Qingge stared at him, the anger in his eyes wavering. “Lies.”

“I’m not lying,” Shang Qinghua said, crossing his arms. “And Shen-shixiong even made me swear not to tell you. Said it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

Liu Qingge’s breath hitched as the weight of Shang Qinghua’s words settled over him. He looked back at Shen Jiu, a swirl of emotions crossing his face, though for once, contempt wasn’t one of them.

Shen Jiu clicked his tongue, shooting Shang Qinghua an irritated look. “You just had to open your mouth.”

Shang Qinghua held up his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t blame me! Were you just going to let this whole misunderstanding drag on forever?” Well, that was really what should have happened, but the plot has already derailed this far anyway, so whatever! 

Before Shen Jiu could retort, Ace’s amused voice cut through the tension. “Damn. Now you owe him for saving your life twice.” He continued to press the Peak Lord down just enough to keep him from moving. “Bet that stings a little, huh?”

Liu Qingge glared up at Ace, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t have a response. Suddenly, the pressure around his neck eased. 

Ace leaned back slightly as he stood up and extended a hand to Liu Qingge. “Alright, let’s call it even for now.”

Liu Qingge hesitated for a fraction of a second before grasping Ace’s hand firmly, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He stood in silence, his gaze dropping to the floor as if trying to untangle his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Ace casually swished his hand through the air, and all the flames scattered around the room extinguished instantly. The room dimmed, leaving only the faint wisps of smoke and the astonished gasps of the brothel workers.

Shang Qinghua’s gasp of awe sounded strangely like he’d said, Fuck, that’s so epic! 

Then, in a sudden and startling movement, Liu Qingge strode towards Shen Jiu, placed his sword down in front of him with a deliberate clink and lowered himself onto one knee, his hands cupped in front of him in a salute.

“Shen Qingqiu,” Liu Qingge said, his voice steady and resolute. “I have wronged you. Misunderstood your actions. Allowed my assumptions to cloud my judgement. You saved my life—twice. I vow to repay the life debts. And the sect will know the truth.”

Shen Jiu, caught off guard, looked to Ace, who was watching the scene unfold with open amusement, and then back to Liu Qingge, who remained bowed in earnest.

“You don’t have to—” Shen Jiu began, his voice sharp and defensive. “This is completely unnecessary.”

“No,” Liu Qingge met his gaze seriously. “Debts must be paid. Wrongs must be righted. I will not waver in this.”

Ace burst out laughing, slapping his thigh. “Just let him do what he wants,” he said between chuckles. “Might as well milk it for all it’s worth!”

Shen Jiu hissed at Liu Qingge with flustered indignation and embarrassment, “Stand up already!”

Shen Jiu had known many men in his life. Be it cultivators, nobles, the common folk, or the monsters of his past, they had all seemed carved from the same mold: polished exteriors hiding self-serving motives, cruelty disguised as camaraderie, and power wielded as a weapon.

Among them, Ace stood out like a jagged stone in a river of polished pebbles.

Ace, who wore his flaws and scars openly. 

Ace, who laughed too loud. 

Ace, who ate with his bare hands.

Rough-edged and unpolished, yet undeniably striking.

A lowlife by the standards of any society, and yet… Ace held himself to a code that was utterly his own. He had no use for rigid hierarchies or empty decorum, but more than made up for it with his fierce loyalty, unyielding kindness, and unwavering sense of justice.

In Shen Jiu’s fractured world, women were safe; men were not. 

That truth had been carved into him since his youth. 

His life had always felt like shattered porcelain, fragile and sharp-edged, barely held together by spite and will. But now, faint glimmers of gold seemed to seep into the cracks. 

The cracks did not render the vessel worthless. They made it unique. They made it beautiful.

And Ace—Ace was the sunlit gold filling those fractures. He wasn’t erasing the scars, or mending the past, but he showed Shen Jiu that even in its brokenness, his world could still be whole. 

Shen Jiu’s gaze lingered on Ace as the pirate roped Liu Qingge into another round of whatever gambling game they were playing, their sharp banter drawing laughter from the brothel workers. Liu Qingge’s frustrated expression was a sight to behold, while Shang Qinghua, emboldened by his winning streak, cheered Ace on like his life depended on it.

For all its absurdity, this moment—this chaotic, messy, laughable moment—felt like yet another crack mended, a fracture turned golden.

Not all men were monsters. In Ace, he had found the one jagged stone that didn’t cut. 

.

.

.

(Ace threw the dice onto the table, the clatter loud enough to draw every eye. As the others bustled to count the numbers and place their bets, Ace glanced at Shen Jiu. The man’s gaze had fallen to the dice on the table, but Ace’s mind was stuck on a different moment—when his fingers had been so close to brushing Shen Jiu’s, only to pull back, interrupted by others.

Ace clenched his fist, glaring down at it as if it had personally betrayed him. Stupid, stupid! The perfect moment had been right there, and he’d hesitated.

What was the point of asking Ning Yingying for advice if he couldn’t even follow through? “Be bold, gege,” she’d cheered him on, all sparkles and confidence. “But also keep it subtle. Shizun definitely likes people who take initiative!”

Bold yet subtle, huh? How the hell was he supposed to pull that off?)

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/157107508

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: For the first time, the weight of Ace's words hit him. A far-off place.Of course, he had always known that fact, but hearing Ace say it again brought the reality crashing down.

Chapter 8/15

Peak Lord meetings were usually held in the sect’s grand hall at Qiong Ding Peak, a room that could easily make even the most seasoned cultivator feel small and insignificant. Twelve individuals, each more impressive and beautiful than the last, were seated around an imposing table. The room was adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts. Lamps lit with refined spiritual wax flickered along the edges, casting an ethereal glow on the polished marble floor. 

The twelve individuals were the Peak Lords of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, and they were as magnificent as the room they occupied. Their robes were woven from rare silks, their faces glowing with an otherworldly radiance. Some exuded a calm serenity, others a fiery intensity. But they all shared a single trait: they were statuesque, dignified, and dripping with so much beauty that it felt almost unfair to the rest of the world.

And then there was Ace.

Sitting beside Shen Jiu, the thirteenth addition was a blatant disruption to the perfect harmony of the room. Ace's plain, wooden chair, a mismatched piece clearly taken from another room, stuck out like a sore thumb next to the immaculate, sculpted chairs that surrounded the rest of the table. 

Ace didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He was still dressed in the same outfit from the battle the day before, sleeves shamelessly rolled up. His hair, wind-swept and messy, framed his face in a way that suggested he'd either just finished a fight or just rolled out of bed. There was nothing particularly graceful about him. No ethereal glow. No dignified silence. He was simply a guy—scrappy, pirate-y, and covered in the faint smell of smoke and fire.

At the head of the table, on Shen Jiu’s other side, sat Yue Qingyuan, the Sect Master and Qiong Ding Peak Lord. He was the epitome of everything a peak lord should be—graceful, dignified, and utterly untouchable.

Ace didn’t exactly have the best impression of him, thinking back to Shen Jiu’s red-rimmed eyes and the hurt wavering in his voice. A simmering dislike bubbled within him. The old him would’ve let it erupt by now—blurting out something blunt and insulting, sparking a fight without a second thought. 

But Shen Jiu had taught him restraint. Sort of. His lessons came with a few whacks to the head, but Ace had grudgingly started to pick up on the point: not every fight was won with fists.

Ace leaned over to Shen Jiu and whispered, “So, how long do we have to sit here and look all...majestic?”

Yue Qingyuan chose that moment to speak, addressing the room. “As you are all aware, the demon incursion on our sect grounds was a significant breach of security. Fortunately, it was swiftly dealt with, thanks to the efforts of Qingqiu-shidi’s guest.” 

He inclined his head towards Ace, raising his hands in a traditional salute—one fist resting lightly against the opposite palm. “Ace-gongzi, on behalf of our sect, I extend my thanks for your efforts last night.”

Ace met his gaze steadily. “It’s no big deal, just a little demon-slaying, you know how it is.” He threw a nonchalant arm over the back of his chair.

“An outsider?” Xian Shu Peak Lady Qi Qingqi’s remark was laced with thinly veiled scepticism as she fixed an assessing gaze on Ace. “On your peak, Shen-shixiong? I trust there’s a compelling reason behind this…questionable decision.”

Before Shen Jiu could shoot back with a biting retort, Ace leaned forward. “Questionable?” He flashed an easy grin as he looked around the room, entirely unperturbed by the apparent disapproval. “I like to think of myself as more of a pleasant surprise.”

Yue Qingyuan, ever the diplomat, gave a small but reassuring smile. “While I appreciate the timely assistance of Qingqiu-shidi’s guest, let it be noted that bringing an outsider into the sect—especially as an instructor—requires more than just informal approval,” he said, his eyes flicking to Shen Jiu beside him. “Shidi, please go through the proper procedures if you wish to bring a guest into the sect in the future.”

As Yue Qingyuan spoke, Ace propped his head on his hand, his cheek resting against his fist as he stared at the man. So this is Qi-ge, Ace thought, watching him with a newfound curiosity. He’s...kind of different from what I expected. 

Yue Qingyuan’s tenderness was evident in the way his gaze seemed soft, almost protective, as it settled on Shen Jiu. “The demon incursion must have disrupted your seclusion. And with everything that’s happened, you must’ve had your hands full. Please, take care not to overexert yourself.”

Shen Jiu’s lips twitched into a thin, almost mocking smile as he crossed his arms. “I wasn’t exactly sitting around doing embroidery. If I didn’t 'overexert' myself, nothing would get done.”

The tension between the two was palpable, but Ace could tell it wasn’t exactly hostility. Shen Jiu’s snappiness was more a defensive move than true anger, a thorny shield to keep people at arm’s length. Ace had seen it often enough to recognise it now. What struck him more, though, was Yue Qingyuan’s response—or lack thereof. Despite Shen Jiu’s prickliness, the Sect Master didn’t so much as flinch. His gaze never wavered from its quiet warmth. 

Ace caught the barely concealed glances and subtle scoffs of some of the other peak lords. Ah, so that’s how it is, he thought. Yue Qingyuan’s indulgence of Shen Jiu clearly didn’t sit well with the others, and their discontent hung faintly in the air—resentment at the way Shen Jiu always seemed to escape harsher consequences, no matter how sharp his tongue or difficult his behaviour.

“Shen Qingqiu, must you always act so insufferably? Zhangmen-shixiong is expressing concern, and this is how you respond?” Qi Qingqi cut in, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.

Shen Jiu turned his head lazily toward her. “Ah, Qi-shimei,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock politeness. “I didn’t realise I needed lessons in courtesy from you of all people.”

Qi Qingqi bristled. “I wouldn’t need to remind you about basic manners if you didn’t constantly make a spectacle of yourself! Is it so hard to show even an ounce of respect?”

“Respect is earned, not handed out like sweets to children. And forgive me, but I fail to see what I’ve done wrong here. Perhaps you should focus on your own peak instead of lecturing me about mine.”

A sly smile bloomed on her lips as Qi Qingqi sensed an opportunity to stir up trouble. “Oh, I am very much focusing on my peak, Shen-shixiong. In fact, my Xian Shu Peak disciples have been quite productive lately. You see,” her tone turned silky, “they’ve recently released a certain book that’s been making its rounds and receiving glowing feedback.”

Shen Jiu stiffened.

Yue Qingyuan cleared his throat and raised his hand to ease the growing tension. “Qingqiu-shidi, Qi-shimei, let us maintain decorum—”

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard about it,” Qi Qingqi interrupted smoothly, completely ignoring Yue Qingyuan. She turned to Ace, her smile positively gleaming with mischief. “It’s quite the read, Ace-gongzi.”

Shen Jiu smacked his palm against the table. “So it did come from your peak!”

“What book?” Ace’s brows raised in genuine curiosity. “Can I see it?”

“Oh, I think you would love it!” Qi Qingqi’s smile was positively gleaming with mischief. “The narrative is most vivid, full of emotional depth and thrilling detail. Truly, a masterpiece inspired by someone’s life.”

Yue Qingyuan tried again, his voice taking on a firmer edge. “Qi-shimei, this is not the time—”

“Your disciples wrote that?” Liu Qingge, who was still visibly recovering from his recent qi deviation, cut in, disdain apparent in his raspy voice.

“Oh, Liu-shidi, you’ve heard about it too?” Qi Qingqi spun around to face the Bai Zhan Peak Lord. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know someone like you followed such literary pursuits.”

Shen Jiu was now staring at Liu Qingge in shock and, dare I say, betrayal. “You read it?”

“No!” Liu Qingge rushed to defend himself, pointing an accusatory finger at Mu Qingfang beside him. “He told me!”

Mu Qingfang, raising both hands in a placating gesture, interjected, “Now, now, I think we should all calm down—”

“Qi Qingqi!” Shen Jiu cut him off, face burning with mortification and a murderous glare on his face. “My life is none of your business!”

“Oh? I didn’t say that it had anything to do with you, Shen-shixiong, why are you taking such offence to it?” Qi Qingqi countered. “Though I must admit, I was the one who encouraged my disciples to bring this…cultural piece to light.” She adopted a mockingly thoughtful expression, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “As their master, I see it as my duty to nurture their passions.” She fluttered her lashes, the very picture of insincerity.

Shen Jiu’s jaw worked soundlessly as he struggled to find the right words. He looked like he was seconds away from combusting, but Qi Qingqi only continued, far too entertained to stop now.

“Truly,” she said airily, inspecting her nails, “this is the kind of cultural exchange that strengthens the bonds of our sect.”

Ace, still blissfully unaware of the subtext, leaned forward. “Wait, is this about that porn mag? Oh, but I can’t read.” He turned to Shen Jiu eagerly. “Chu, you gotta read it out for me.”

A vein in Shen Jiu’s forehead visibly throbbed before he whipped out his fan (huh, it’s the plainest one he's seen Chu use so far—unadorned and made of plain wood) and smacked it directly across Ace’s freckled nose. “Ace, for the love of—shut up!” he hissed.

“P-por–!? Por–!” Shang Qinghua, who had been quiet up until this point, seemed to jolt awake.

“You don’t know how to read?” Mu Qingfang asked in concerned bafflement.

“...No one’s listening to me,” Yue Qingyuan sighed, resigning himself to another unfruitful meeting. 

Shang Qinghua suddenly slammed his hands onto the table with a gasp, pointing at Ace, who looked back at him in confusion. But then the An Ding Peak Lord slumped down into his chair and laid his head on the table. Ace gaped in surprise, but the rest of the Peak Lords continued talking over each other as if Shang Qinghua’s dramatic display was completely normal.

Shang Qinghua was staring at the floor, his eyes still unnervingly wide as his forehead rested against his folded arms on the table. Beads of sweat dripped down his face as he fought to regain some semblance of composure. It was clear to anyone who looked closely that this was a man teetering on the edge of total collapse. But, you see, Shang Qinghua had just had a major epiphany. Since the start of the meeting, his eyes had been roving over this Ace-gongzi’s strangely familiar tattoo on his bicep. And then this Ace-gongzi had the gall to utter the words…‘porn mag’.

It was so out of place, so incongruous, so jarring in this world that he’d created.

That’s when it clicked.

TA MA DE!! Isn’t that Ace, as in, THE Portgas D. Ace from One Piece??? How the fuck is he alive—wait, scratch that—what is he even doing here, in this world, this sect, this absurd reality?! 

That’s right, Shang Qinghua was a loyal fan of the popular anime, having followed it till the Fishman Island arc. But then…then he'd died. An unfortunate accident, and he'd transmigrated right into a universe of his own creation. The weight of his realisation came crashing down on him. That’s right. I’m never going to find out what the One Piece is... He couldn't stop the flood of sorrow that welled up in him. I’ll never get to see Luffy achieve his dream! I’ll never see the ending! 

Ace watched, slightly concerned as Shang Qinghua’s hunched form over the table began to heave and sob. The sight was almost… pitiful. "Is he okay? Shouldn’t someone check on him, pat his back or something?” 

“Just ignore that rat.” Was Shen Jiu's only disdainful response.

.

.

.

As the conversations began to wind down and the peak lords prepared to conclude the meeting, Yue Qingyuan turned to Ace. “My apologies, Ace-gongzi. You are an honoured guest, yet we’ve been remiss in not asking—where do you hail from?”

Ace leaned back in his mismatched chair, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Oh, you know,” he drawled with a nonchalant shrug, “Just a guy from a far-off place. Nothing special.”

Shen Jiu stiffened in his seat. For the first time, the weight of Ace’s words hit him. A far-off place. Of course, he had always known that fact—but hearing Ace say it again brought the reality crashing down. 

Ace wasn’t from this world.

Ace didn’t belong in this world. 

Eventually, Ace would want to leave this world.

The realisation clawed at Shen Jiu’s chest, an ache he wasn’t prepared to face. 

—

It was dusk by the time they were back at Qing Jing Peak.

The meeting they’d just endured was faintly nostalgic to Ace. It reminded him of his meetings with the other division commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates – a family gathering in the most chaotic way possible. 

Now, as Ace followed Shen Jiu back into the bamboo house, the familiar quiet settling around them, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being caught between two worlds. 

Shen Jiu spoke first, his voice smooth and even. “Tell me,” he began, “What are your plans now that you are fully healed? What do you wish to do?”

Ace leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but his silence was heavy with contemplation. The room seemed to grow still around him as he stared down at the floor, fingers tapping lightly against his arm.

“I...” he started, pausing to collect his thoughts. “This place is incredible, seriously. It’s nothing like I could have ever imagined. And the people…” He met Shen Jiu’s eyes, his own curving gently as he smiled. “Beautiful, kind, and incredible.”

Shen Jiu could feel a heat rising up his neck. It almost seemed as if Ace wasn’t talking about the people in general—but about him.

“And,” Ace added playfully, “I’d be lying if I didn’t say you were a big part of why it’s been so easy to feel at home here.” He uncrossed his arms and stood straighter. “I’m really grateful for everything you've done for me, Chu. You've made this all feel a lot less like a strange world and more like somewhere I could actually belong. But…I want to find a way back home.” Ace let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “No matter what it takes. I just can’t leave my brother alone. I can’t leave my family behind.”

Shen Jiu heard the pain in Ace’s voice, and it stirred something in him—how about me? Don’t leave mealone—but he quickly smothered the thought, drowning it out by focusing on the more pressing matter at hand. No matter what his feelings, he couldn’t show it. He wouldn’t.

Instead, Shen Jiu focused on the practical. “I’m the Qing Jing Peak Lord. All the knowledge you need is at my disposal. I’ll help you find a way back.”

"Chu…You’re the best. Thank you," Ace’s eyes shone with a warmth that could light up a room. His smile was pure, like a weight had been lifted, and Shen Jiu felt the truth of those words settle deep in his chest.

Shen Jiu’s usual aloofness was intact, but inside, something tight and painful began to twist. He focused on keeping his voice steady. “Naturally,” he replied, even as his heart squeezed painfully, the words stinging more than they should.

Without warning, Ace pulled him into a hug.

For a moment, Shen Jiu froze—his instinct was to push Ace away, to maintain the distance he so carefully cultivated. But then, with a flicker of hesitation, he stiffly melted into the embrace. For the briefest moment, the cold emptiness inside him receded. He stayed there, allowing himself to indulge in the warmth Ace provided. 

Ace would leave, and Shen Jiu would be alone again. But for now... he let the sensation sink in, silently clinging to the moment, even as it tore him apart inside.

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/156594694

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: Shen Jiu’s mind spun, and for a moment, he couldn’t think. But the truth was, he didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to question it. It was a feeling that rushed through him with such force that it left no room for doubt. Trust, unwavering and certain, flooded him.

I trust him.

Chapter 7/15

The Qing Jing Peak training grounds were a disaster zone. Disciples were sprawled across the dirt, groaning in unison as Ace stood in the centre, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He twirled a bamboo practice sword like it was a twig. 

"Y’all weren’t bad," Ace said, grinning like he hadn’t just wiped the floor with the entire group. "But next time, try aiming for me instead of waving your swords around like you’re in a stage play."

A nearby disciple, clutching his bruised shoulder, groaned, “We were aiming for you…”

Luo Binghe, the last one standing—or rather, wobbling—tried to square his shoulders. “I… I’ll take you down this time, Ace-ge!” he declared, gripping his sword tightly.

Ace’s grin widened. “That’s the spirit, little guy! Bring it on.”

Luo Binghe launched forward with a battle cry, his strikes faster and sharper than any of the others. For a moment, the watching disciples held their breaths. Luo Binghe was quick, relentless—but Ace weaved through his attacks effortlessly, like he was dancing.

“Nice moves!” Ace said, dodging a particularly sharp swing. “But you’re still telegraphing your next—”

Before he could finish, Luo Binghe made a feint and lunged, his blade aimed straight for Ace’s unguarded side.

Ace caught the sword with his bare hand. “—attack,” he finished, laughing as Luo Binghe froze, wide-eyed. “Close, though. Real close. You’re gonna be dangerous one day.”

Luo Binghe flushed bright red as Ace ruffled his hair with his free hand. “Keep practising, beast. You’ve got potential.”

Then he turned to survey the carnage. "Well, that was fun," he said, hands on his hips.

The disciples groaned in unison, a few muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Get him away from us.”

It had been barely over a week since Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu had left for his meditation retreat to the Lingxi Caves, and already, his disciples were on the verge of collapse under the relentless demands of this brutish tyrant.

The inside of the Lingxi Caves were as eerie as Ace expected them to be. The pathways twisted like the coils of a snake, the walls glistening faintly with moisture. He trailed his fingers along the cold stone, muttering to himself, “This is the last time I trust a kid to give me directions.”

Ning Yingying had been only too happy to show him the way to the caves, giggling the entire time about “reuniting two destined lovers”. He hadn't bothered trying to figure out who or what she was talking about—probably one of those girl things that always flew over his head. 

Ace wasn’t worried about Shen Jiu. Probably. Maybe a little. Okay, maybe more than a little. 

But!

That wasn’t the only reason why he was here, trudging along the claustrophobic, winding paths. Ace was bored out of his mind. Weeks stuck at Qing Jing Peak had left him restless. This whole seclusion thing Shen Jiu was doing sounded important, but Ace couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone could spend so many days cooped up in a damp cave. Didn’t the guy want to stretch his legs or something?

He ducked under a low-hanging rock. 

This was the perfect opportunity to do some exploring—check out the caves, see what all the fuss was about, and maybe even drag Shen Jiu along with him. He could tell him about his plans to explore outside the peak, maybe wander into the forests. Anything to shake off the monotony.

“Man, I told him I wouldn’t cause any trouble,” he said, stepping over a small puddle. “But he can’t scold me if I came all the way here to tell him first.”

The sound of swords clashing abruptly echoed through the cave, jolting him from his thoughts. Shouting followed—familiar shouting.

“Shit.” Ace’s stomach dropped and he quickened his pace towards the noise. The echo made it hard to pinpoint the direction, but the growing volume led him to a narrow path.

And there he was.

Shen Jiu, his robes in disarray and streaked with dirt and blood, stood his ground, wielding his sword with one hand while dodging the furious strikes of a man with long, dishevelled hair. The man’s blade cut through the air with terrifying precision, though his movements were wild, unrestrained. Ace didn’t need to know much about cultivation to notice that there was something wrong with the bulging veins under the man’s skin and the feral look in his eyes.

“Chu! You okay?” Ace shouted, sprinting closer. 

Shen Jiu’s head snapped toward him, his expression flashing between surprise and fury. “You—! I told you not to—Get out of here, you idiot!”

Ace ignored him, his focus on the attacker. “Who the hell is this guy?”

The man—definitely not in his right mind—turned his gaze to Ace, and for a moment, Ace froze. The guy was… a girl? No, he’s definitely a guy. Was everyone in this world just ridiculously pretty? The thought evaporated as the man snarled like a beast, swinging his blade. Ace’s body ignited instinctively, and the blade sliced harmlessly through the flames.

“The Bai Zhan Peak Lord!” Shen Jiu replied, his tone sharp with panic. “He’s in qi deviation—don’t provoke him!”

“Well, too late for that!” Ace barked, ducking under another swing.

“Focus, Liu Qingge!” Shen Jiu snapped, diverting the man’s attention back to himself. “It’s me, you fool! Get a grip!”

The intensity of Liu Qingge’s attack surged, his strikes becoming heavier and more relentless. Shen Jiu cursed under his breath as he sent small bursts of energy to disrupt Liu Qingge’s rhythm. But it wasn’t enough.

Ace could feel the pressure—the raw, suffocating energy rolling off the peak lord. It wasn’t just an ordinary fight; this was a man teetering on the edge of destruction, dragging anyone in his vicinity along for the ride. As Liu Qingge raised his blade for a devastating strike, Ace clenched his fists and roared. “Enough!”

The air shifted, heavy and electric. A wave of overwhelming presence exploded from Ace, radiating outward in an instant. Shen Jiu staggered back, eyes wide as the force washed over him. Liu Qingge froze mid-strike, his blade trembling in his grasp before falling from his hands with a dull clang. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious but breathing steadily.

For a moment, the cave was utterly silent, save for the sound of dripping water.

“What was that?” Shen Jiu’s voice broke the stillness, quiet but laced with awe and suspicion.

Ace blinked, his chest heaving. “Uh…” Conqueror’s Haki. He was certain of it. “Did I do that?”

“You—” Shen Jiu pointed a trembling finger at him. “What did you just do? That wasn’t spiritual energy—what was that?!”

“Beats me,” Ace shrugged. “I just really wanted him to stop swinging that sword around.”

“Really wanted—” Shen Jiu looked at him like he’d grown another head. “You just knocked a peak lord out of qi deviation! That’s not normal!”

Ace glanced at Liu Qingge, now lying in an unsettlingly peaceful heap on the ground. “Huh. Is he gonna be okay?”

Shen Jiu unfolded his fan with a sharp snap and flapped it at Ace’s face. “You should be the one explaining that! How did you—how is this—ugh!” He whirled away, pacing furiously. “You’re impossible!”

“Aw, come on, Chu, I just saved your ass!” Ace teased, stepping closer. “No ‘thank you’?”

Shen Jiu froze, then rounded on him, eyes narrowed. “If you ever dare use… whatever that was near me again—”

“Yeah, yeah, save the threats for later,” Ace interrupted, bending down to pick up Liu Qingge and his sword. “We should probably get this guy somewhere safe before he wakes up and tries to skewer us again.”

Shen Jiu glared at him for a long moment before his shoulders sagged in resignation. “…Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

“Looking forward to it!” Ace grinned, hefting the unconscious peak lord onto his shoulder like he weighed nothing. “Lead the way, boss.”

Shen Jiu scowled but didn’t argue. Ace followed with a spring in his step, the strange tension from earlier dissipating as quickly as it had come.

—

Shen Jiu had told Ace that he would be away for a while to go on a meditation retreat. He’d firmly stressed that he was not to be disturbed. Ace could have his fun sparring with the Qing Jing Peak disciples while Shen Jiu dealt with his cultivation breakthrough.

The Lingxi Caves were a place of serenity and stillness, thrumming with natural qi. Shen Jiu sat cross-legged in its depths, his breathing steady, his mind focused entirely on the intricate flow of qi within him. He was so close—so close—to that elusive breakthrough. The kind of strength that could solidify his position, protect his place, keep his nightmares at bay.

The world seemed to blur as he concentrated, every distraction fading into nothing. His body grew lighter, his senses sharper, and then—like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place—the barrier shattered. A surge of energy rippled through him as his cultivation level advanced, his core stabilising in its newfound strength. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Shen Jiu allowed himself a small, victorious smile.

Then came the sound.

A muffled thud. A low, guttural groan.

His eyes snapped open, the golden glow of his breakthrough dimming as he turned his attention towards the cave’s entrance. He unfolded himself with precision, grasping his sword as he rose.

Stepping carefully down the winding path, Shen Jiu’s sharp ears picked up the sounds of laboured breathing and the scraping of boots against stone. He rounded the corner—and froze.

Liu Qingge.

The Bai Zhan Peak Lord was doubled over, his hands trembling as he gripped his sword. His veins bulged unnaturally, his eyes a feral red. Qi deviation. Shen Jiu’s breath hitched. He’d seen it before, of course, but never in someone so powerful.

“Liu Qingge,” he called out, cautious but firm. “Snap out of it. You’re stronger than this.”

Liu Qingge’s head jerked toward him. The snarl that tore from his lips was inhuman, his blade rising with terrifying speed as he charged.

Shen Jiu leapt back, pulling out Xiu Ya to deflect the strike. The force rattled his bones, but he held firm, sending out a burst of energy to push Liu Qingge back. The man barely stumbled, his next strike already in motion.

Shen Jiu sidestepped, his sword slicing a thin barrier of qi between them. “Damn it, Liu Qingge!” he hissed, his mind racing. He could run. He should run. But—

His fingers tightened around Xiu Ya. He wouldn’t. 

I can help him, he told himself. I helped Ace, didn’t I? 

But as he tried to reach out with his qi, sending thin tendrils toward Liu Qingge’s chaotic core, the response was immediate and violent. Liu Qingge’s qi pushed back, sharp and furious, lashing at him like a wounded beast. Shen Jiu gasped, coughing as the backlash surged through him, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth.

Blood splattered onto the stone floor.

No, Shen Jiu realised bitterly, his chest heaving. Ace was different. He was…pliant, open. He didn’t know enough to fight me. 

Liu Qingge’s sword slashed toward him again, and Shen Jiu barely managed to parry, the impact sending him skidding back.

I can’t save him, Shen Jiu thought, despair creeping in. Of course I can’t. I haven’t changed. Who did I think I was? 

Liu Qingge advanced, his attacks relentless. Shen Jiu’s limbs ached, his vision blurred.

This is it, he realised grimly. He was going to die here. He would die, and all of his work—everything he had built to claw his way up—would be for nothing.

No. 

A spark ignited in his chest. He tightened his grip on Xiu Ya, resolve hardening. He couldn’t die. Not yet. There was someone he could return to.

Someone who gave him hope.

Shen Jiu’s hand trembled as he raised his sword, its sharp edge glinting in the dim light. If he couldn’t save Liu Qingge, then he could only—

“Chu! You okay?”

The voice rang out, clear and brash, cutting through the tension like sunlight piercing through storm clouds. Suddenly, Shen Jiu felt like he could breathe again.

—

Shen Jiu and Ace emerged from the cave, the outside air calming after the chaos they had just experienced. Liu Qingge’s unconscious body hung limply between them, but their moment of brief respite was interrupted by a sudden, frantic shout.

“Shen-shishu! Shen-shishu, demons are attacking Qiong Ding Peak!” The voice was urgent, breathless, and as Shen Jiu turned, he saw a Qiong Ding Peak disciple, their face pale with fear, dashing towards them. “They came while the Sect Master was away for a meeting with the other sects!”

Ace stood up straighter, his eyes flashing with eager intent. “Demons, huh?” he said, cracking his knuckles with a nonchalant grin. “I’ll deal with them.”

Shen Jiu barely had time to react before Ace shoved Liu Qingge’s limp form into his arms, leaving him no choice but to catch the peak lord in his hold. “Wait—” he began, but Ace was already moving, brushing past him with an almost casual air.

“Trust me,” Ace said, his voice laced with an unusual seriousness.

Shen Jiu blinked. “You’ve never fought demons before,” he called after him, his words hanging in the air like a warning.

But then Ace was suddenly turning back to face him and oh—Ace’s hand was on his cheek, warm—no, hot—a fierce, almost burning pressure as Ace gently wiped away a streak of blood that had marred his lips during the fight with Liu Qingge. The touch was strangely tender, and Shen Jiu froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Ace didn’t pull away immediately. He let his palm linger against Shen Jiu’s skin, and for a split second, it felt like the world itself had stopped. The heat from Ace’s touch seeped through the fabric of Shen Jiu’s robes, spreading warmth that had nothing to do with the physical sensation and everything to do with the way it made him feel…safe.

“Trust me,” Ace repeated, his voice softer this time, coaxing.

Shen Jiu’s mind spun, and for a moment, he couldn’t think. But the truth was, he didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to question it. It was a feeling that rushed through him with such force that it left no room for doubt. Trust, unwavering and certain, flooded him.

I trust him. 

It was an absurd thought. This man, this strange, fiery intruder, had come into his life as if summoned by the very flames of chaos—and yet, here Shen Jiu was, holding onto a trust he couldn’t even explain. But somehow, it was there, undeniable.

And so, Shen Jiu nodded, his gaze hardening with resolve. “Fine. But don’t do anything reckless.”

Ace flashed a grin, turning to leave. “Reckless is my middle name.”

Shen Jiu rolled his eyes but didn’t stop him. He glanced down at the unconscious Liu Qingge in his arms. With a steadying breath, he lifted the peak lord’s body more firmly, feeling the weight of the task ahead.

Turning back to the disciple, he issued quick instructions. “Get the other disciples to safety—evacuate to the nearest secure chambers. And inform the other peak lords about the attack immediately. I need to take your Liu-shishu to Qian Cao Peak for treatment.”

As the disciple dashed off to carry out his orders, Shen Jiu pressed his palm to the hilt of his sword, feeling its familiar weight as he pulled it out and mounted it with swift precision. With a fluid motion, the sword leapt into the air beneath him, carrying him forward. 

—

Ace stood in the middle of a chaotic battlefield, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and the crackle of fire. Sha Hualing, leading a ragtag group of demons, had demanded a customary duel of three rounds. But Ace wasn’t in the mood for games.

He unleashed a massive burst of Flame Emperor. The fire blazed out in all directions, swallowing the demons whole. They screamed, recoiling in fear, but Ace wasn’t done. With a single swipe of his hand, the flames roared higher, engulfing the demons in a wave of heat and power.

The remaining demons quickly scattered, realising that Ace was no mere mortal. As they retreated, Ace casually wiped the sweat from his brow, making no effort to suppress his grin. “Is that all you’ve got?” he called after them.

Behind him, the disciples of various peaks were absolutely beside themselves, some gaping in awe, others practically swooning. “That was amazing!! How’d you do that!?” one of them called out, practically vibrating with excitement.

Ace looked over his shoulder with a cocky grin, revelling in the attention. “Yeah, yeah, it’s nothin’ special,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just part of the service.”

The air around them rippled as a sudden flash of sword light cut through the sky, and with a thunderous boom, Liu Qingge landed heavily in front of Ace. His robes were still bloodied and torn, but there he was, the War God himself, conscious and glaring at the world around him.

Liu Qingge had woken up halfway through Mu Qingfang’s treatment, only to hear about the demon invasion. Groggy but determined, and with little regard for his injuries, he’d immediately taken off on his flying sword.

"Where do you think you're going, Liu-shixiong?" Mu Qingfang's voice rang out, irritated and sharp as he appeared a moment later. "You literally just woke up after a major qi deviation. Have you lost your mind?"

Shen Jiu, trailing closely on his sword behind Mu Qingfang, sighed in exasperation. He had been chasing after Liu Qingge with one goal in mind: to keep him from making a scene. But now, with the battle over and Ace standing right there, all of his efforts felt like they were about to be thrown into chaos.

“You,” Liu Qingge suddenly pointed a shaking finger at Ace, his expression deadly serious. “Saved me.”

Ace scratched his head. “Nah, not really. It was mostly him.” He casually gestured toward Shen Jiu.

Liu Qingge frowned, his brows knitting together. “Owe both.”

“Oh no, no,” Ace quickly waved him off, bowing slightly. “It’s only natural for us to help.”

Liu Qingge stared at Ace with a look of disbelief, as though the very idea of someone refusing gratitude was an offence of the highest order. “Reject…my thanks?”

But before another disagreement could break out, Mu Qingfang slapped a fist into his palm with an exaggerated ah! sound.

Everyone turned towards the healer, who was looking absolutely delighted with himself. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, pointing at Ace. “You’re Shen-shixiong’s partner in the erotic book!”

Ace blinked, pointed at himself, then blinked again, completely lost. 

Liu Qingge’s eyes flitted between Ace and Shen Jiu, confused and mildly scandalised.

Shen Jiu, at that moment, felt like the world was spinning too quickly for him to catch up. The sudden heat in his face was unbearable, and for a moment, he wondered if Ace’s fire powers were somehow transferrable. How else could he explain the inferno that was now spreading across his face? It felt like his skin was being scorched by the very flames of the sun.

(Goddammit, I fucking knew it. I knew that fucking bastard knew about the fucking book!) 

Meanwhile, Shang Qinghua, who had been lurking quietly among the disciples, having failed at doing anything useful during the demon attack, was watching the situation unfold across him with wide eyes. His hands were shaking as he mentally screamed to himself, Who TF is that buff dude?! I don't remember creating such a character—and how is Liu Qingge alive? His eyes flickered to Shen Jiu, whose face was now a brilliant shade of red. And why does Shen Qingqiu look like a blushing shoujo character in love? Also, what erotic book is Mu Qingfang talking about?! 

The last thing Shang Qinghua needed was this kind of chaos. He was the one who’d written the Proud Immortal Demon’s Way novel, so how did this mess even happen? He had no idea, and he was supposed to be the author, wasn’t he?

Goddammit, why am I the most clueless one here!? 

Shang Qinghua could only hold his head in his hands, silently cursing his own creation.

Omake (aka sha hualing and ace have a fashion stand-off)

Sha Hualing -sly smile, looking appreciatively at Ace-: “Well, well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? I must admit, you’re far more interesting than the usual cultivators.”

Ace: "Thanks, I guess? You don’t look too bad yourself—though you might wanna fix that thing you’re wearing. Looks like it’s about to fall apart."

Sha Hualing -OFFENCE! THAT’S RUDE-: "Excuse me? This thing happens to be custom-tailored demon silk. But you—do you even know how to wear clothes, or did no one ever teach you?"

Ace: "Says the girl who’s one gust of wind away from a wardrobe malfunction!"

The two glare at each other, their fingers pointing accusingly at the other.

Sha Hualing: "You look like you lost a fight with your own wardrobe!"

Ace: "You look like you tripped into a curtain and called it a day!"

“Shameless!”

“Show-off!”

…

Bystander disciple: "Should we step in?"

Bystander demon: "Nah, this is entertaining."

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/156098542

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “…I’ve been having cold sweats,” Shen Jiu muttered reluctantly, the words low and clipped. “And random…heart palpitations.”

Chapter 6/15

Ming Fan took in the sight of the bamboo house—the place he had always regarded as a sanctum of quiet authority and discipline. But as he made his way to the entrance, the faint clattering of dishes and, he could swear, muffled laughter, made him hesitate. Was that… He dismissed the thought, his frown deepening.

Still, things on Qing Jing Peak had become strange lately. Shizun, once aloof and formidable, seemed inexplicably…altered. Ming Fan’s days of solemnly serving tea, of reporting daily with updates on the disciples’ progress, had suddenly and without warning been halted. He had been cast away—told to stop visiting the bamboo house.

And that wasn't even the most shocking change! 

The trays of food—plural, mind you—sent to Shizun’s house at increasingly odd hours. At least five times a day? Ming Fan felt certain Shizun had no need for meals, given his practice of inedia, so this change in habit had left him puzzled. Then there was Ning-shimei’s declaration about some topless stranger in Shizun’s quarters—an outright absurdity. Who would dare treat his Shizun’s sacred home with such impropriety? 

Also, in yet another turn, was Shizun’s abrupt shift toward civility—actual niceness, even—towards Luo Binghe (of all people), which had left Ming Fan having no choice but to adopt a reluctantly friendly demeanour towards the boy himself. Not that it made any sense. And finally, just when the disciples had come to expect the unexpected, they were informed that the intruder—this musclebound rogue, whose bare-chested appearances had the female disciples tittering and sighing—was here to assist Shizun with training lessons.

In the middle of his spiralling thoughts, Ming Fan rapped on the door, took a moment to straighten his robes, then entered with his usual flourish.

“Shizun,” he greeted with what he hoped was his most respectful tone, bowing low as he presented the tea. “I’ve brought the best blend today.”

Shen Jiu barely glanced at the tray. “Good. Set it down.”

Ming Fan did as instructed, his gaze darting to the corner of the room, where that man—the unseemly interloper—lounged as if he owned the place, chewing on a bamboo skewer and grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world. The robes he wore were somewhat proper today, but Ming Fan noted with irritation that the neckline still dipped too low, showing off his…chest muscles.

How vulgar.

Shen Jiu sipped his tea and gestured vaguely towards Ace. “You’ll be helping him settle into the disciple dormitories.”

Ming Fan froze. “Eh?” His composure cracked, just for a moment. He cleared his throat and continued, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Shizun, you mean…in the dormitory? With us?”

“Yes.” Shen Jiu said it as if it were obvious. “It’s a reasonable arrangement, seeing as he’s here to help instruct you all. Make sure he’s shown the rules and treated appropriately.”

Ace clapped a hand on Ming Fan’s shoulder, nearly sending him stumbling forward. “Don’t worry, kid! I’ll fit right in. We’ll have a blast.”

Ming Fan forced a strained smile, inwardly screaming. A blast? With him? He tried to imagine this intruder in the dormitory, listening to him snore in the bunk next to his. He tried to imagine the chaos. He certainly could not imagine the peace.

“Shizun,” Ming Fan tried, his voice plaintive, “Surely we can find…other accommodations. Perhaps one of the spare guest houses at the bottom of the peak?”

Shen Jiu shot him a withering look, folding his fan with a loud snap. “Did you think I wouldn’t know if there were rooms left? In the dormitory he goes, and that’s the end of it.”

“Yes, Shizun,” he mumbled. “This disciple will handle it.”

Shen Jiu waved him off with a dismissive flick of his fan. Ming Fan reluctantly led Ace outside, fuming. This was supposed to be his time to shine, to be in Shizun’s good graces again! Instead, he was babysitting this greasy buffoon.

As they walked towards the barracks, Ace stretched lazily, looking utterly unbothered. 

“So, Ming Fan, huh?” He held his fist out. “Nice to meet ya.”

Ming Fan eyed the offered fist with disdain and mild confusion—what was this? A bastardisation of proper greeting etiquette?—then glared at the offender. “You’ve already met me.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, pulling his hand back and slipping it into his pock—uh, where even is—oh. Right. There were no pockets in these robes. His fingers awkwardly slid down the smooth fabric before he crossed his arms, acting as though he hadn’t been vigorously rubbing at his thigh for no reason. Of course, Ming Fan had caught the entire thing and was silently adding more marks against Ace in his mental ledger.

“Yeah, but not formally.” Ace flashed that lopsided grin that seemed to disarm everyone else but only made Ming Fan’s blood boil. “So, what’s your deal? Shizun’s favourite disciple or something?”

Ming Fan puffed up slightly at that. “Of course. I’ve been by Shizun’s side longer than anyone. I know all his preferences, his habits, his routines—”

“Huh. Then you’d know his favourite meal, right? I don’t really see him eating much, but he’s gotta have a favourite.”

Ming Fan faltered. Shizun… ate?

Before he could respond, Ace chuckled. “Don’t sweat it, kid. I’ll figure it out. Your Shizun’s got layers, right?”

Layers?! Shizun didn’t have layers! He was a paragon of discipline and perfection—what layers was this ridiculous man imagining?

Ming Fan seethed silently, his fists clenched. This was going to be a disaster.

—

Earlier…

Plans. He needed plans.

Shen Jiu glanced toward Ace, who was reclining near the window, idly tossing a fireball from one hand to the other like it was some sort of toy. Shen Jiu's fan snapped shut with a loud click. "You need to leave."

Ace looked up, unfazed. "What, now? Was it something I said?" The fireball dissipated. "Or is it because I’m too hot to handle?"

Shen Jiu ignored the teasing quip, pushing forward with his reasoning. "I'm expecting guests. Annoying ones. The kind who would ask too many questions about you. And since you are about as subtle as a flame in a dry forest, you are moving to the disciples' dormitory. Temporarily." The last word came out sharper than intended, as if he were trying to convince himself more than Ace.

Ace lifted an eyebrow but shrugged easily. "Cool. Gives me way more chances to test your disciples' strength." He grinned, the edges of his teeth catching the light.

"Test their—?" Shen Jiu blinked, momentarily thrown, before waving a hand dismissively. "Never mind. I don’t care. Just don’t burn anything important. Or anyone, for that matter."

"You're the boss." Ace leaned back, clearly unbothered by the sudden eviction. If anything, he seemed entertained by the whole ordeal.

For a moment, Shen Jiu stared at him, an inexplicable pang of irritation stirring in his chest. Why was Ace so...compliant? Shouldn’t he at least protest? Just a little? A flicker of hesitance wouldn’t have been unwelcome.

He shook the thought away violently. What was wrong with him? He had far more pressing concerns than the whims of this irritating brute. He snapped his fan open again.

If only he could snap away the strange emotions rising in his chest just as easily.

—

Shen Jiu had barely settled into the now-rare tranquillity of his bamboo house since Ace had ‘moved out’, when a knock at the door shattered it.

He sighed, dragging his fan open as if to brace himself for whoever dared disturb his peace. As the door creaked open, Mu Qingfang stood there, composed as always, his gentle features set in polite neutrality.

“Shen-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang greeted, inclining his head. “I couldn’t help but notice a large burnt patch in your bamboo forest on my way here. Is everything alright?”

Shen Jiu narrowed his eyes. “None of your business. What are you doing here?”

Mu Qingfang gave a polite smile. “It’s time for your monthly checkup.”

“No, it’s not,” Shen Jiu snapped, already dismissing him with a wave of his fan.

Mu Qingfang blinked. “…It is.”

Shen Jiu huffed in disbelief, grabbed the small calendar scroll from his desk, and froze. It was.

How the hell had a whole month passed so effortlessly? It felt like just yesterday he’d been subjected to Mu Qingfang’s last lecture about proper rest, yet here they were again. His eyes darted towards the now-empty corner of his house where Ace had been lounging just an hour ago. Since that man had barged into his life, time itself seemed to blur, days slipping by as though they weren’t even real.

With a grumble, he waved Mu Qingfang in, planting himself begrudgingly at the table. “Let’s get this over with.”

As Mu Qingfang approached, Shen Jiu’s voice was deceptively soft, almost disinterested as he casually inquired, “By any chance, have you encountered a certain...book circulating among the disciples?”

Mu Qingfang’s gaze remained steady, his features betraying no hint of suspicion as he answered with deliberate nonchalance, “I cannot say that I have, shixiong. Why do you ask? Has something caught your attention?”

Shen Jiu's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he assessed the healer's calm demeanour. “…No particular reason.” Was Mu Qingfang telling the truth, or was there something more?

Shen Jiu sat stiffly, extending his wrist across the table, his sleeve slipping back to expose delicate skin. Mu Qingfang took it gently, his fingers light as he pressed them against Shen Jiu’s pulse, his eyes closed in concentration.

The silence stretched between them, save for the soft rustling of bamboo leaves outside the open window.

“Your qi flow…” Mu Qingfang murmured, eyes still shut. “It’s…not as poor as usual.” His voice tilted upward, slightly surprised. “Your reserves are stabilising. That’s unexpected.”

Shen Jiu scoffed. “A backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one.”

Ignoring the jab, Mu Qingfang added, “In fact, it’s possible you’re nearing a breakthrough. A cultivation bottleneck cleared, perhaps?”

Shen Jiu’s fan stilled mid-flick. “A breakthrough?” He frowned, trying to process the idea. His progress had stagnated for years; how could this suddenly be happening now?

Mu Qingfang gave a slight nod but his brows furrowed. “Even so, you must take care of yourself better, Shen-shixiong. Your physical condition is still less than ideal. Have you been getting enough rest?”

Shen Jiu rolled his eyes but didn’t respond with his usual snark. That alone piqued Mu Qingfang’s curiosity. Something was off.

“Shixiong seems preoccupied,” he stated carefully, setting Shen Jiu’s wrist down. “If something is troubling you, you can tell me, Shen-shixiong. I may be able to assist.”

Shen Jiu hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against his fan. He looked anywhere but at Mu Qingfang, his pride and caution warring within him. But something about the healer’s calm, unwavering patience eventually won out.

“…I’ve been having cold sweats,” Shen Jiu muttered reluctantly, the words low and clipped. “And random…heart palpitations.”

Mu Qingfang’s brows rose. “Heart palpitations?”

Shen Jiu looked away. “Yes.”

“When did this start happening?”

The question struck like a thunderclap. Shen Jiu’s mind reeled back to all the odd moments over the past few weeks: the infuriating smirks, the careless teasing, the easy way Ace seemed to worm his way into every corner of his life. He thought of how Ace had smiled at him—so soft and endearingly, amid the pale-green fireballs—so bright and toothy, after plopping that ridiculous bamboo hat onto his head. His stomach churned, and heat prickled at the back of his neck.

“…It’s not important,” Shen Jiu muttered hastily, shutting down the memory before it could spiral.

Mu Qingfang studied him, his expression calm but clearly unconvinced. “The symptoms you’re describing don’t seem serious, but they could be indicative of stress.” His words were careful but deliberate. “I recommend drinking spiritual tea for calming and clearing the mind. It may help you process whatever’s troubling you.”

Shen Jiu bristled but didn’t refute him.

“Also,” Mu Qingfang continued, “given the state of your spiritual qi, a retreat to the Lingxi Caves could prove beneficial. It might help you solidify this breakthrough you seem to be approaching…and perhaps provide clarity for your sudden ‘illness’.”

Shen Jiu’s fan snapped open again, blocking half his face as he considered the suggestion. A retreat sounded annoyingly inconvenient. But if it would stave off further questions—and possibly stop these irritating symptoms—perhaps it was worth it.

“I’ll consider it,” he said curtly.

Mu Qingfang smiled faintly, gathering his tools. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it. But Shen-shixiong…” He paused, meeting Shen Jiu’s gaze. “Whatever’s on your mind, don’t let it fester. It’s unlike you to hold back.”

Shen Jiu stiffened, his fan fluttering briefly before snapping shut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a faint hum of acknowledgment, Mu Qingfang stood, bowed politely, and took his leave. As the door closed behind him, Shen Jiu slumped in his chair, glaring at the empty room as if it had betrayed him. His heart gave an unwelcome thud, and his hand reflexively shot to his chest.

Damn it all.

He supposed a visit to the Lingxi Caves was much needed.

—

The Qing Jing Peak disciples were huddled in a corner of the dormitory, whispering amongst themselves. Ace had been there for exactly two hours, and already the air felt…different. The bamboo beds creaked ominously, their cleanly pressed robes were slightly ruffled, and the neatly stacked training manuals looked dangerously close to toppling over.

Ace was sprawled on his bunk with one arm dangling off the edge. His robe was half undone (again), and his boots were carelessly discarded near the door.

“Is he…meditating?” One disciple whispered nervously.

“No, I think he’s just sleeping. Do cultivators even sleep like that?” Another replied, peeking over.

Without opening his eyes, Ace yawned loudly and said, “You know I can hear you, right?”

The disciples flinched like startled deer, scattering slightly.

Ace swung himself upright, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. “Alright, kids,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Time to break the ice! Who wants to spar?”

Ming Fan, standing stiffly with his arms crossed, scowled. “This isn’t a playground, Ace-zhang. We take our training seriously here.”

“Oh, good,” Ace said, smirking. “Then you’ll go first.”

“What?!” Ming Fan’s voice cracked.

Ace didn’t wait for a response. He hopped down, flexing casually. “C’mon, don’t be shy. You’re Shizun’s best disciple, right? Show me what you’ve got!”

A few of the younger disciples giggled behind their hands, and Ming Fan turned an alarming shade of red. “Fine,” he snapped. “Don’t cry when you lose.”

The rest of the disciples quickly formed a circle, eyes wide with curiosity as the two squared off. Ace stretched lazily, and Ming Fan unsheathed his sword, every movement crisp and precise.

Ming Fan launched forward with a practised strike. Ace ducked—barely. “Whoa! That’s fast! Nice form,” he said cheerfully. “But you’re leaving your left side open.”

Ming Fan gritted his teeth, doubling down with a flurry of attacks. Ace dodged them all, hands behind his back, grinning like a maniac.

“Is he toying with him?” someone whispered.

“He’s definitely toying with him,” another murmured, half-impressed.

Finally, Ace yawned exaggeratedly mid-dodge and reached out, pinching Ming Fan’s sword between two fingers, stopping the blade dead. “You’re good, kid,” he said with a wink, “but you’ve got a ways to go.”

Ming Fan stared at him, jaw slack, while the rest of the disciples erupted into cheers and laughter.

Ace grinned and let the blade go, ruffling Ming Fan’s hair before the younger man could protest. “Don’t feel bad. You’ll get there. You’re already leagues ahead of me when I was your age.”

“I highly doubt that,” Ming Fan muttered, looking equal parts flustered and indignant.

“Trust me,” Ace said with a wink, sauntering back to his bed. “You’re all lucky to have a teacher like your shizun. And me, of course.”

Ming Fan scowled, trying to smooth his hair back down. “Insufferable,” he muttered under his breath.

But as Ace plopped back down on his bunk, the faintest smirk tugged at Ming Fan’s lips. Just a little.

Omake (what if ace didn’t get kicked out)

Mu Qingfang stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Cold sweats and heart palpitations… Tell me, Shen-shixiong, do these symptoms occur during any particular situations? For instance, after exertion or at night?”

Shen Jiu stiffened, his fingers twitching against the handle of his fan. “No,” he said shortly.

“Hmm. What about stress? Anxiety? Perhaps a certain trigger—”

Shen Jiu abruptly stood, his fan snapping shut with a sharp clack. “Forget I said anything!”

Mu Qingfang’s composed expression barely hid his growing amusement. "Shixiong, I must insist—"

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Shen Jiu snapped, his retreat decidedly ungraceful as he stormed out of the room.

Mu Qingfang sighed, about to follow, when a cheerful voice boomed from the doorway. “Yo, you the doc?!”

A young man strolled in, grinning like he owned the place, his sleeves rolled up and tied at his shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat gleaming off his sun-kissed skin. Without warning, he slung a bare, muscular arm around Mu Qingfang’s shoulders and pulled him close, his body heat immediately apparent. The gesture was startlingly casual—brazen, even—so wildly out of step with the reserved decorum Mu Qingfang was accustomed to that he momentarily forgot how to breathe.

“Hey, so, you’ve seen Chu, right? Guy bolted past me looking redder than a fireball. He okay?” Ace’s crooked grin gleamed, his tone far too casual for someone addressing a stranger.

Mu Qingfang had frozen under the unexpected contact, his entire body going rigid. He turned his head, staring at Ace in shock and dawning comprehension. 

“I…see,” he murmured, his mind instantly piecing things together. “The diagnosis is painfully clear.”

“Huh?” Ace tilted his head. “What diagnosis?”

Mu Qingfang carefully extracted himself from Ace’s arm, straightened his robes, then sighed, giving the young man a long, knowing look before heading towards the door. It seems the cure is also the ailment—and entirely unaware of it. The healer made a mental note to add "emotional awareness training" to Shen Jiu’s health regimen.

.

.

.

Ace stood there, left alone in the room like an abandoned puppy. “Uh…so…is there a prescription or what?”

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/155584693

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “PUT DOWN THAT BOOK!” Ning Yingying shrieked, looking like she might explode from embarrassment.

Chapter 5/15

The morning sunlight filtered into the classroom with an almost magical glow, casting everything in dreamy, rosy hues. Birds chirped melodiously from nowhere—were those sparrows harmonising?—while blossoms of every kind, somehow defying their usual seasonality, peeked through the cracks in the stone. Everything felt unnervingly vibrant, and Shen Jiu could practically taste the sugar-sweetness in the air.

He frowned, his grip on his fan tightening. What on earth is wrong with me? Was he falling ill? He hadn’t felt this lightheaded in... well, ever. Certainly not since last night’s little—no, no, he wasn’t thinking about that. Absolutely not. He was Shen Qingqiu, the esteemed Qing Jing Peak Lord. He didn’t get all... fluttery over something as trivial as a roguish grin and some glowing fireballs.

His disciples sat before him, side-eyeing their shizun with barely disguised wariness. They’d been whispering since the lesson began.

“Why does Shizun look... happy?” one muttered under his breath.

“Do you think he ate something weird?”

“Shizun doesn’t eat, you idiot.”

“Maybe he’s possessed?”

Shen Jiu ignored their murmurs—well, he wasn’t even listening to them in the first place. His mind drifted for the fifth time that morning to a certain freckled, grinning idiot. What could that brute be up to right now? And more importantly, why isn’t the little beast here? His gaze swept the room, landing pointedly on the conspicuously empty seat at the back. Probably skipping lessons to train with the brute. Hmph. 

…‘Hmph’? Shen Qingqiu, the esteemed Qing Jing Peak Lord, does not ‘hmph’. 

A prick of irritation jabbed at him, though he couldn’t quite place why. Was it annoyance that one of his disciples was shirking his studies? Or something... else? His fan snapped open with a flick of his wrist as he pressed his lips into a thin line. I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of that brat spending time with... He slammed the fan down on the desk, the sound echoing through the room like a clap of thunder.

The disciples jumped in their seats, snapping to attention as the atmosphere in the room shifted from suspiciously cheerful to ominously stormy. The rosy glow disappeared, replaced by an almost tangible weight in the air.

One particularly brave soul whispered, “I told you. Possessed.”

“Silence,” Shen Jiu hissed, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He stood behind his desk, his fan tapping against the wood in barely contained irritation. 

“If any of you,” he said slowly, his tone like the calm before the storm, “are foolish enough to follow in Luo Binghe’s footsteps and think skipping my lesson is acceptable, I will make you regret it.”

The disciples straightened in their seats, not daring to breathe too loudly. Shen Jiu’s stormy gaze swept over them, but inwardly, he cursed himself. Why am I even thinking about them? Why am I thinking about...him? 

The lesson finally began proper, but the faintest pink lingered at the tips of Shen Jiu’s ears.

—

Luo Binghe’s eyes sparkled with awe, his training sword slack in his grip as he watched Ace summon flames that twisted and danced like living creatures. Each flicker and burst of fire seemed to reflect Ace’s energy, wild and untamed.

“Whoa,” Luo Binghe breathed, clutching his sword tighter. “It’s like your fire has a mind of its own.”

Ace grinned, a carefree smirk on his face that never failed to make everything look less serious than it was. “You think that’s cool? Watch this!”

With a flick of his hand, Ace sent a spiralling flame shooting up into the sky. It burst into a cascade of smaller, flickering fireballs that fell like shooting stars, illuminating the surrounding bamboo forest.

Luo Binghe ducked, instinctively raising his sword. “That’s amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Glad you like it—now, think fast!” Ace lunged, his arm ablaze as he threw a controlled fire punch towards the boy, who narrowly dodged and countered with a swift slash of his sword. The flames wrapped around the blade for a moment, harmless but mesmerising.

The sparring intensified, and for a while, it was pure exhilaration. Ace felt alive in a way he hadn’t since he was imprisoned in Impel Down. He was unshackled, free to push himself fully.

Unfortunately, freedom came with consequences.

“Uh… Ace-ge?” Luo Binghe’s voice wavered, his gaze fixed behind Ace.

Ace turned, wiping sweat from his brow, and froze. A section of the bamboo forest was smouldering, the once lush green now singed black. Smoke curled into the air, and a few stalks cracked ominously before toppling over.

“…Oops.”

“Oops?” Luo Binghe repeated, torn between amazement and panic. “Shizun is going to kill us! This is his favourite part of the peak!”

Ace scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I got carried away, huh?”

“You think?!”

Before Luo Binghe could say more, Ace clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll fix it before Chu—uh, your shizun—finds out. Watch this!”

Ace snapped his fingers, conjuring small, controlled flames to carefully burn away the remaining smouldering debris. The result… wasn’t great. The charred area looked even more obvious, the blackened bamboo now stark against the rest of the untouched forest.

Luo Binghe stared. “You made it worse.”

Ace laughed nervously, rubbing his neck. “Y’know, maybe this is a ‘run and hope for the best’ kind of situation.”

“Maybe?” Luo Binghe’s panic was barely contained. “You don’t know Shizun. He will find out.”

“…Well,” Ace said, placing a reassuring hand on Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “If he’s mad, I’ll take the fall. I can handle a little fan to the face.”

“You’ve never seen him actually angry,” Luo Binghe pouted.

Ace just grinned. “It’ll be fine, trust me. Worst case, I’ll light up some more fireballs to cheer him up.”

“Or he’ll use his fan to knock you off the peak,” Luo Binghe replied grimly, though a small smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

The two stood amidst the damage, one nervous and the other grinning as if nothing had gone wrong. Somewhere in the distance, the ominous crackle of thunder hinted that someone was definitely not in a good mood.

—

The dimly lit room was piled high with scrolls, ledgers, and complaint forms. An Ding Peak Lord Shang Qinghua sat at his desk, quill in hand, twitching as he skimmed through yet another stack of requests. His face was a symphony of despair as he looked at the latest scroll he picked from the growing mountain of paperwork.

“Another requisition from Qing Jing Peak?” he squeaked, his voice climbing several octaves. He rifled through the pile with frantic movements, his expression growing more aghast with each scroll he picked up. “More replacement bamboo? Repair requests for practice dummies? New roof tiles? Just how many roofs do they have to keep destroying?! Are they summoning demons or something?”

He flipped to another scroll, this one detailing an absurdly high foodstock order. His hand froze mid-air.

“Wait… this is—” He checked the dates again. “The fourth increase in food intake this month! Did Shen Qingqiu secretly start cultivating a hidden ninja village?! Or—” his breath hitched, his paranoia flaring, “—is he finally leaning into his villain arc bribing people to make them like him more before Luo Binghe blackens?! No, no, wait—what if he’s raising an army of spiritual beasts to stage a coup against the sect? WTF is happening to the plot?!”

Shang Qinghua buried his face in his hands, his quill dripping ink onto his paperwork. “I’m gonna go bald. I can feel it. My hairline’s already receding because of the demonic realm plots, and now this!”

He leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Why can’t these people just… live peacefully? Fix their own problems? Stop… burning things?!”

As if to mock him, a fresh scroll landed on his desk with a thud, carried by a dutiful disciple.

“New request from Qing Jing Peak, Shizun.”

Shang Qinghua let out a long, broken whimper.

“...What now?”

—

Shen Jiu sat at his meticulously organised desk, a fresh stack of reports in front of him. His brow was furrowed as he pretended to focus on a particularly dull scroll detailing the peak’s current herb inventory. He wasn’t actually reading it. No, his mind was elsewhere—more specifically, on the bamboo house.

“That brat…” Shen Jiu muttered under his breath, tapping his fan impatiently against the desk. “Skipping lessons again. Probably off training with him.”

For the past week, Ace’s training sessions with Luo Binghe had escalated to maddening levels. Trees reduced to charcoal, practice dummies turned to ash—it was as if a natural disaster had decided to settle here. Shen Jiu had reprimanded Ace sharply more than once, his fan snapping shut with enough force to echo through the courtyard. And yet, he’d begrudgingly submitted yet another stack of repair requisitions to An Ding Peak, muttering under his breath about the audacity of reckless brutes.

His lips pressed into a thin line. It wasn’t like he cared that Luo Binghe was shirking his responsibilities as a disciple. Or that Ace seemed to be getting along with him. No, he was simply concerned about the peak’s reputation. Yes, that was it.

“And what exactly is he teaching that boy anyway? How to punch trees until they catch fire?”

He snapped his fan shut with a loud clack, startling the disciples peeking nervously from the doorway. They hurriedly ducked out of sight before their Shizun’s prickly temper could land on them.

Shen Jiu let out a sharp exhale, glaring down at his desk. He was the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He had duties, responsibilities, things that demanded his attention.

...But none of those things stopped the faint, nagging jealousy creeping up his spine.

His eyes flicked toward the window, where the afternoon sun streamed in. His grip on the fan tightened.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing abruptly. His disciples scrambled out of his way as he strode through the corridor, the hem of his robes fluttering dramatically behind him. “If that boy can waste his time playing with fire, then so can I.”

Of course, Shen Jiu wasn’t about to abandon his duties. He was far too responsible for that. But who said he couldn’t multitask?

—

Ace stood awkwardly in the middle of the open training ground, tugging at the stiff collar of the pristine white-and-green Qing Jing robes Shen Jiu had manhandled him into putting on earlier. He grumbled under his breath, “I’m telling you, this doesn’t suit me.”

The Peak Lord had made it very clear—since Ace seemed so eager to train Luo Binghe, why not extend his enthusiasm to the other disciples as well? Now here he was, stuck in robes that felt more like a straitjacket than clothing.

One of the disciples passing by nearly tripped over herself, letting out a barely concealed giggle. Another whispered something to her friend, both of them sneaking glances at Ace from behind their sleeves. A bemused expression crossed Ace’s face as he glanced around, suddenly feeling like he was some kind of circus act.

A small group of girls had taken it upon themselves to hover nearby, giggling and whispering with increasing excitement. Ace caught snippets like, “He’s so tall!” “Shizun’s man, huh?” and “Those arms—!”

“What was that last one?” Ace asked, his grin sharp and teasing as he turned towards them. The girls squealed and scattered like startled birds.

“Well, at least someone’s enjoying themselves,” Ace sighed, tugging at the belt that was cinching the robe a little too tightly around his waist. He shot a glance toward the far end of the training grounds, where Shen Jiu stood surrounded by a small group of disciples.

The man was in his element, frowning and gesturing sharply as he corrected their sword stances. His fan (a pale sunshine yellow with thin gold stitching) snapped open and shut as he pointed out errors, his movements precise and authoritative. Ace couldn’t help but grin.

It was clear that Shen Jiu had a natural talent for teaching, his every movement radiating control and confidence. Ace was struck by the stark contrast between the man’s usual prickly demeanour and how he commanded the class. There was something compelling about his intensity, even if it was hard to take him seriously with that fan in his hand.

Then his gaze wandered down to the spotless, constricting robes Shen Jiu had forced him into. “...Bet you anything this top half’s coming off by the end of the day,” he muttered. 

A sudden chorus of laughter drew his attention back to the girls, who were now giggling even harder. Ace blinked, realising too late that he had said it out loud.

From across the training grounds, Shen Jiu snapped his head toward Ace, his fan freezing mid-motion. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

Ace raised his hands in mock surrender, smiling appeasingly. "Uh... nothing! Just enjoying the fresh air!"

Shen Jiu’s glare promised retribution, but he returned to his teaching without a word. The girls, meanwhile, dissolved into another round of giggles.

Ace sighed, resigning himself to being the spectacle of the day. He turned to the group of giggling female disciples, raising an eyebrow at their constant, amused whispers. “So, what do y’all usually do around here when you’re not sneaking glances at me?”

Ning Yingying, ever the boldest, smiled sweetly. “Oh, not much... just play the guqin, read books, maybe some handiwork like crafting little trinkets.”

“Handiwork?” Ace repeated, eyes lighting up. “Hey, I can do that! Let me teach you!”

Without missing a beat, he grabbed several lengths of bamboo, already stripped and prepared for crafting, and started weaving it with surprising ease. The girls watched him, slack-jawed, as Ace quickly shaped the bamboo into something practical yet charming. A basket. Then a hat. And another one, this time with intricate twists.

“Ooh, look at that!” one of the disciples exclaimed, “He’s so good at it!”

"A true vision of masculine grace,” another sighed dreamily.

“Shizun’s man is so dependable,” a third giggled. “As expected of our Shizun!”

Ace barely noticed the flurry of praise—he was too focused on perfecting his bamboo craft. But the girls’ enthusiasm was palpable, and their words floated around him like petals in the breeze. 

Ning Yingying, her eyes twinkling, leaned in a little closer. “So, Ace-gege, what do you and Shizun usually do together when you're at the bamboo house? You know... since it’s just the two of you.”

Ace blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Err...we eat and talk?”

The disciples erupted in giggles, all of them exchanging winks and nudges. “Ohoho~ We get it,” one of them teased. “You eat...am I right?” 

They all burst into even more peals of laughter, making Ace wonder if they were trying to get something out of him that he wasn’t picking up.

“Uh…” Ace scratched the back of his head, awkwardly. “Yeah. I mean, we just... talk and eat. Well, I'm the one doing most of the eating. Is your shizun on some kind of diet or something?” 

Amidst the tittering girls and the bamboo pieces scattered around him, Ace’s gaze shifted over to Shen Jiu, who was now busy instructing Luo Binghe. His eyes curved in amusement as he watched Shen Jiu adjust the boy’s stance with meticulous care.

What caught Ace’s attention was the subtle change in Shen Jiu’s manner. Despite his usual sharp tones and distant air, there was a gentleness in the way he guided the boy, his hands steady and patient as he corrected his disciple’s form. The tenderness was unexpected.

What an improvement. Ace’s chest swelled with pride.

Luo Binghe, on the other hand, seemed completely entranced, his eyes wide with an almost dazed look, as if he couldn’t quite believe that his shizun was being so kind to him. His expression wavered between awe and the verge of tears, touched by Shen Jiu’s rare gentleness. Ace couldn’t help as he huffed out a breath of amusement. What a crybaby. Really reminds me of...

He chuckled to himself, watching Luo Binghe try his best to hold back tears, clearly overwhelmed by the attention he was receiving.

The girls had wandered off to pick flowers, their newly-woven baskets in hand. Ace was left alone for the moment, surrounded by scattered bamboo pieces and half-finished craft projects. His fingers absently toyed with a few stray pieces of bamboo, but his attention was soon drawn to something on the ground. A book, lying there as though discarded carelessly.

Curious, Ace picked it up, flipping through the pages. He couldn’t read the language of this world, but what the hell? A book was a book, right? He flipped another page. His eyes scanned the page for a moment before pausing, his brain finally registering what he was looking at.

“Wait, what the—” Ace’s voice trailed off. His eyes widened as he stared at what appeared to be… a very graphic drawing. His face went blank, then slowly, his lips quirked into an amused smirk. “Well, would you look at that… A very well-drawn di—” He was cut off by a sudden, high-pitched scream right by his ear.

“PUT DOWN THAT BOOK!” Ning Yingying shrieked, looking like she might explode from embarrassment.

Ace flinched as his ears rang from the shrill sound. “Wha—?!” 

He wondered if his eardrums might have popped. He blinked blankly at Ning Yingying’s horrified expression… Then looked back down at the book and flicked through the pages with casual interest. 

“It’s just a biology textbook, right?” He asked, his tone completely innocent.

Ning Yingying let out a sound that was akin to the strangled gasps of a dying chicken.

And then it clicked. 

His memories flashed back to his childhood days living in a ramshackle shed on the mountain with Dadan and her bandits. After 10-year-old Ace had discovered a collection of strange magazines under the floorboards, Dadan had beaten up her men and threatened Ace to never talk about such topics with her. Ace had never really understood her reaction at the time, but there was something eerily similar about the book in his hands now.

“Oh,” Ace said slowly, as realisation dawned on him. “This is like a porn mag…but for girls? Cool!” He nodded approvingly, impressed by the detail of the drawings. It was pretty well done, after all.

The girls’ faces turned bright red, and they began stammering, unsure whether to hide their faces or run for cover. Ning Yingying’s jaw dropped.

Before Ace could continue his musings, he felt something hard jab into the back of his head. It wasn’t overly painful, but it was definitely a sharp reminder of who was in charge around here. He turned to see Shen Jiu standing imposingly behind him.

“Shizun!” Ning Yingying cried out in a relieved gasp, “Please, don't let him—”

“Enough,” Shen Jiu cut her off, his voice icy cold as he turned to Ace. “Give me that.”

The glare on his face was enough to make the pirate release the book without a fight, and Shen Jiu immediately tucked the book away into his robes.

A pointed look at his disciples sent them running off.

The bamboo house was quiet, almost too quiet, as Shen Jiu sat at the head of the table in his study, his fan resting neatly on the table beside him. Ning Yingying, kneeling at the other end of the table, shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She had come to report, but there was a certain tension in the air, one that made the normally fearless girl hesitate.

She couldn’t tell him that she was involved in the creation of the book (she loves her life too much to admit that), but…

"Shizun," she began, her voice soft but earnest, "I just... wanted to inform you that copies of that book are already circulating around the mountain.” Her face was flushed from panic and desperate self-preservation. “It appears to have started from Xian Shu Peak… Not that I'm blaming anyone there, of course!”

Shen Jiu gave a sharp nod, dismissing her with a flick of his wrist. "I am not interested in your excuses," his eyes narrowed. "Just make sure it doesn’t spread beyond this mountain."

Ning Yingying looked momentarily forlorn, casting a lingering glance at the book she had hoped to retrieve. But Shen Jiu had already dismissed her, signalling that her time here was up. She rose reluctantly, her shoulders slumped, and left without saying another word.

Shen Jiu let out a sigh once she was gone, his gaze landing on the offending book resting on the table. He stared at it for a long moment, his mind working furiously. Eventually, with a resigned grunt, he flipped the book open. His eyes skimmed the pages for a few seconds before he slammed it shut with a loud thwack. His face flushed slightly, but his expression quickly hardened as he muttered to himself.

“What’s there to be so flustered about?” he grumbled under his breath. “It’s just words and drawings. Pull yourself together.”

But his hand trembled slightly as he opened the book again, his gaze zooming onto the detailed illustration. The two figures in the drawing were so realistic, so meticulously drawn... One of them looked suspiciously like himself. And the other—Ace? No, it couldn’t be. But the freckles, the hair—everything fit too perfectly.

Without thinking, he slammed the book shut once more. The sound echoed in the quiet study, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. His breathing was a little quick, his heartbeat slightly faster than usual.

"If copies of this book are truly being spread around," he stared at the book as though it were a venomous snake, "It seems I’m about to be greeting some unwanted visitors soon."

“Yo!” Ace popped his head into the room, his cheeky grin in place. Without waiting for an invitation, he strolled inside. The formerly pristine white-and-green Qing Jing robes that Shen Jiu had forced on him earlier were now a far cry from their intended appearance—the neckline had been tugged loose, revealing a glimpse of his collarbones and scarred chest, while the sleeves had been rolled up and tied securely to his shoulders, leaving his tattooed bicep on display. “What, you're still upset over the porn mag? Lighten up, it's normal for kids that age.”

Shen Jiu shot him a glare so sharp, it could cut glass. “It's not about that,” he huffed, straightening his robes as if he could physically push the uncomfortable situation away. 

But before Shen Jiu could continue his tirade, Ace suddenly plopped a bamboo hat over his head. “Aw, it suits you!”

The moment Ace flashed that crooked, toothy smile, something strange happened. Shen Jiu’s heart skipped a beat—then began pounding erratically, as if trying to escape his chest. His face was burning, his vision swirling. What—what was happening? Why did it feel so hot in here? Was he…was he truly falling sick?

Shen Jiu blinked rapidly, trying to steady himself, but it only made things worse. “I-I—” he stammered, but his brain was too foggy to form coherent thoughts.

Ace leaned in closer, his warm hand suddenly cupping Shen Jiu’s cheek. His palm was rough, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. "You're looking a little flushed there, Chu. You sure you’re okay?"

Shen Jiu mentally cursed himself. He was not that susceptible. Gritting his teeth, he reached up and grabbed Ace’s wrist, pulling it firmly away from his face. “I’m not... sick,” he muttered, his voice low and defensive, as if saying it would somehow make it true.

—

Qian Cao Peak Lord Mu Qingfang sorted through his schedule with the same precision he applied to his medical practice. His eyes landed on a familiar notation, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Ah," he heaved out a resigned sigh, "It's time for Shen-shixiong’s monthly health checkup."

Omake (aka the part i couldn’t fit into the main story)

The girls flitted around Ace, bombarding him with questions about their shizun. Ace, ever the charmer, responded amiably, nodding along. "Mm, yeah, your Shizun is cute... really cute, actually."

The girls giggled in agreement, and Ace beamed proudly at the compliment he's given Shen Jiu–

SMACK! 

A fan flew through the air with deadly accuracy, landing squarely on Ace’s forehead.

"Damn, he has good aim and good hearing," Ace glanced over to where Shen Jiu was standing on the other side of the field, not even looking at him, his expression unreadable.

Omake 2

During his introduction to the disciples 

Ace – grinning confidently “I’m Peak Lord Shen’s distant cousin from—”

Ace looks at his palm, squinting at the smudged ink 

Ace – “...uh, Goldfish Poop Island?”

Shen Jiu smacks him. Hard.

(kidding, sj prob just told his disciples that ace was a guest cultivator with some fire technique thingy but obv no one believes him)

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/155096728

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “When you’re harsh on him, it’s like you’re beating up that part of yourself you hate. The weak, helpless part that couldn’t escape the past. You see yourself in him, and it drives you crazy.”

Chapter 4/15

The night settled around them like a heavy blanket, the cool air brushing against their skin as they sat on the long corridor. Shen Jiu stared out into the distance, his posture rigid but his gaze distant, lost in thought. Ace sat next to him, resting his arms casually on his knees, his eyes trained on the older man. There was an unspoken understanding between them now, something more than the casual banter they had shared before.

But now that the initial barriers had crumbled, Ace figured it was time to ask the harder questions. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush when it mattered, and there were things he couldn’t just let slide.

“So,” Ace began, his voice casual but pointed, “Is that how you treat all your disciples?”

Shen Jiu glanced at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”

Ace met his gaze steadily. “That kid, Binghe.” His tone didn’t change. “The way you treat him... is that how you treat all of them?”

Shen Jiu scoffed, looking away. “Not all of them.”

“So just him?”

Shen Jiu didn’t answer.

Ace pressed on, leaning forward. “Why? That’s not the you I know. Sure, you’ve got  a sharp tongue and you’re kinda stabby with your fans, but you’re also generous with your food, weirdly patient when teaching me stuff, and you—”

“Who are you,” the sharp edge of Shen Jiu’s words betrayed the cracks in his carefully maintained composure, “to claim to understand who I am?" His words were tight, like a thin thread ready to snap.

Ace didn’t flinch. “So tell me then!” he shot back. “Tell me about you. ”

The tension in the air was thick, but Shen Jiu remained silent.

“…There’s nothing to tell,” he finally muttered, his voice cold.

“That’s bullshit.” Ace’s tone softened, but he didn’t back down. “I told you about my brothers.”

“A bit more than I expected,” Shen Jiu grumbled, remembering Ace’s overly enthusiastic yapping as he boasted about his younger brother, Luffy.

“You said you had a brother too,” Ace reminded him, his tone gentle now.

Shen Jiu hesitated, his fingers curling tightly into his sleeves. “...Do you remember the hierarchy of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?”

“Err... vaguely?” Ace scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He did pay attention to Shen Jiu’s ‘history lessons’, but there was only so much he could take in.

“The sect master,” Shen Jiu said, his voice tight. “The Qiong Ding Peak Lord... is my brother.”

Ace’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously? The head honcho?”

Shen Jiu let out a bitter laugh. “Not by blood. By some cruel twist of fate, I suppose.”

And then, slowly, haltingly, Shen Jiu began to explain.

He spoke of his childhood, of being an orphaned street child, of the crushing hunger and endless desperation that had defined his early years. He spoke of being sold, of the years he spent as a slave to cruel masters, of the day he killed them with his bare hands. 

"How long were you with the Qiu family?" Ace asked softly, his voice breaking the quiet.

Shen Jiu’s fingers curled into a fist, his knuckles whitening as the question seemed to pull him back to a place he wanted to forget. He didn’t answer at first, the words stuck in his throat. Ace reached out and covered his trembling fists with a warm hand that felt larger than life. Somehow, it gave him the strength he needed to speak. “Five years. I was... They bought me when I was just ten. Their eldest son... He thought I was a... a prize. A thing to own.”

Ace shifted slightly, leaning in just enough to catch the tremor in Shen Jiu’s voice. He didn’t press, though the tightening of Shen Jiu’s jaw told him there was more there—more than Shen Jiu was willing to share.

For a long moment, Shen Jiu stared at his and Ace’s joined hands as if they could somehow hide the memories that came rushing back. "The eldest son was... cruel." His voice cracked for just a second, but he quickly regained his composure. “I would be told to stay in his room, and wait there. And I had to—” He stopped, cutting himself off, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood.

Ace noticed the way Shen Jiu’s words trailed off, the tension in his jaw and the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders. The rawness in his expression told Ace more than words ever could. He could already guess what kind of cruelty had taken place behind those closed doors. The eldest Qiu son had abused Shen Jiu in ways no child should ever suffer, in ways Ace could only imagine. Though Shen Jiu didn’t say it, the subtle hints—the look of revulsion that flickered across his face when he mentioned the eldest son—told Ace all he needed to know.

Ace’s voice was steady, but underneath it was a note of understanding. “You don’t have to say it.”

Shen Jiu gave a short, humourless laugh. “I don’t need your pity. Don’t think for a second I’m weak because of it.”

"I wasn’t thinking that," Ace’s tone was matter-of-fact as he withdrew his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against Shen Jiu’s. “But it does explain a lot.”

Shen Jiu stared down at his clenched fists, feeling the absence of warmth, the hollow space where Ace’s touch had been. Then his gaze snapped to Ace’s, suspicion flaring. “What do you mean?”

Ace leaned back, his arms stretched behind him as he tilted his head. “The way you treat Binghe... He’s just a kid. But I get it. You’re not mad at him. You’re mad at yourself.”

Shen Jiu’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t, not with the weight of Ace’s words sinking in, because it was the truth.

“I’m not blind, you know,” Ace continued. “When you’re harsh on him, it’s like you’re beating up that part of yourself you hate. The weak, helpless part that couldn’t escape the past. You see yourself in him, and it drives you crazy.”

Shen Jiu’s breathing hitched for a second. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I do,” Ace said quietly. “Binghe reminds you of who you were. The part of you that was forced to stay in the shadows. You bully him to get rid of that weakness, to keep him from becoming someone like you were.”

Shen Jiu’s eyes burned, but he didn’t speak. His gaze dropped, as though unable to meet Ace’s. For a long moment, there was nothing but the quiet sound of the wind in the trees.

Ace sighed, his gaze tender. “I know you’re trying to protect him in your own messed up way. But you need to stop treating him like the past. You’re not that person anymore. You don’t have to be."

For the first time since Ace had met him, Shen Jiu looked... vulnerable. There was something raw in his eyes, something Ace didn’t have the words for.

“Binghe doesn’t deserve that,” Ace added. “He deserves better.” Stormy eyes looked into Shen Jiu’s own. “You deserve better.”

“Then why didn’t Qi-ge come back for me?” Shen Jiu’s voice quivered, a sound so laden with pain that it took even himself by surprise.

The question was one that had haunted him for years—a childish, hopeless ache that always lurked at the back of his mind. Yue Qi had promised him back then, that once he became a great cultivator, he would come back for Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu had believed him and waited for years, enduring the cruelty of his life in silence, hoping against hope that one day, his brother would save him from his misery.

After waiting for so long, Shen Jiu thought that his Qi-ge had died, out there in the elements. He made the torrid decision to escape the clutches of the Qiu family by his own hand—only to later come across his brother by chance. Yue Qi—no, Yue Qingyuan now—had by then become a respected disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Yue Qingyuan brought him into the sect, but it had felt like nothing more than an attempt to assuage the guilt he felt, an attempt to quiet the past. His brother had never truly come back for him.

“I wasn’t good enough for him to come back for me,” Shen Jiu said, his voice cracking despite his best efforts to sound detached. “So I became this... fraud. This impostor of an immortal cultivator.” His eyes lowered, unable to meet Ace’s gaze. “And that boy... he reminds me of everything I was. Weak. Helpless. Pathetic.”

Shen Jiu fell silent, his gaze fixed on the ground, as if waiting for Ace to recoil in disgust.

But Ace didn’t.

Instead, he reached out, lightly flicking Shen Jiu’s forehead.

“Ow!” Shen Jiu scowled, rubbing the spot. “What the hell was that for?”

“You,” Ace said, his voice warm and steady, “are way too hard on yourself.”

Shen Jiu blinked, caught off guard.

“Look,” Ace continued, his voice steady and full of conviction, “I’m not gonna pretend to understand everything you’ve been through. I’ve had my own share of crap, too, but I’m not you. What I do know is this—you survived. You fought back. You’re still here, doing your best—even if your methods are...” Ace paused, tilting his head slightly, “...questionable.”

“That’s your great wisdom?” Shen Jiu sneered, but there was no real bite in it.

Ace grinned confidently. “Damn right. And for the record, that kid? He adores you. Maybe you should try seeing what he sees.”

Shen Jiu looked away, his expression unreadable. “You’re annoyingly perceptive for a brute.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Ace leaned back, hands behind his head, his grin as bright as ever. “It’s a gift.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Shen Jiu felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as irredeemable as he thought. After all, he did save this dying brute from death. That had to count for something.

“And as for that brother of yours…”

Shen Jiu’s chest tightened at the mention. He had tried so hard to push Yue Qingyuan out of his mind. Ace didn’t wait for permission to continue, his voice gentle but edged with anger. 

“You’re right. He promised. He should have come back for you. But instead, he turned away and abandoned you to a fate you had to escape alone. You deserved more than that.”

The anger in Ace’s words hit harder than Shen Jiu expected, stirring something inside him—resentment, yes, but also something else. A strange relief that someone finally understood what he felt.

Shen Jiu’s throat tightened, and his eyes stung, the weight of everything he had lost—and everything he had become—filling him with a bitterness that was hard to shake. Ace offered Shen Jiu something he hadn’t had in so long—a kind of understanding, raw and unyielding. Something that made him wonder if maybe... just maybe... there was a way forward after all. The walls he had built around himself were cracking, just a little. And for the first time in years, he let himself believe in something better, something more than the endless cycle of survival and self-hatred. 

Maybe he wasn’t alone in this after all.

A glowing, green light at the edge of his vision caught Shen Jiu's attention. He swivelled his head to look outside. A firefly? 

In the next moment, one light multiplied into hundreds, and the bamboo forest around them was awash with floating green orbs, like stars scattered across a dark sky. “Wha—?”

A chuckle from beside him broke his bewildered gaze, and Shen Jiu turned to see Ace, one hand outstretched and aglow as small, circular orbs of green light floated effortlessly out from his palm.

“Like it?” Ace asked, a roguish grin curling at the corners of his lips. “They're little fireballs. They’ll burn a little if you touch them, but they make for a great view. Especially handy for comforting someone who's trying hard not to cry, huh?” He winked at Shen Jiu, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“...I’m not crying,” Shen Jiu muttered. He turned away to glare at the floating fireballs in front of him, trying his best to fight back the unshed tears in his eyes without actually blinking.

Ace only smirked wider, as if seeing right through him. "Sure, you’re not."

Shen Jiu could feel the colour rising in his cheeks, but he held back a retort. He was not going to give Ace the satisfaction.

.

.

.

If tears spilled down his cheeks, neither of them acknowledged it.

—

There was a chorus of awe from the disciples, who had gathered outside their quarters, all gazing up at the sight. Whispers of “Look at that!” and “It’s beautiful!” filled the night, as the tiny fireballs twinkled around them and above their heads, spreading across the peak like stardust. 

In the kitchen storehouse, Luo Binghe paused mid-task, his hands frozen as his gaze lifted towards the floating orbs. His eyes widened in wonder as the fireballs shimmered and danced around him, an awed look spreading across his face.

—

“... Jiu.”

“Say what now?”

“Shen Jiu is my real name. I was named after—” A number. Nine. The ninth orphaned street child captured by the slave trader that day.

“Shen Chu? Like a kiss?” Ace asked, playfully twisting the sound of the name.

“Wha-!” Shen Jiu recoiled, eyes flashing. “No! That’s—stop.”

“I like it! That’s what I’m calling you now. Nice to meet ya, Chu!” Ace gave a little mock bow, clearly enjoying the way the name made Shen Jiu squirm.

“I am not answering to that. It’s Jiu—” Shen Jiu’s voice was sharp, but Ace wasn’t listening.

“Chuuu~”

Faced with a too-close Ace with pursed lips, Shen Jiu had no choice—no choice, he swears—but to smack his fan against the pirate’s face, sending him sprawling several feet away.

“... You really have a mean right hook,” Ace groaned as he rubbed his reddening face. “But you're a kind person, Chu.”

“… How could you say that after I beat you up,” Shen Jiu huffed, flushing with embarrassment.

Ace, still rubbing his face dramatically, raised his voice. “Ahh, the strength of Chu’s kindness, really—it’s like a sledgehammer. Just comes at you out of nowhere, knocks you flat, and leaves you wondering what just hit you!”

Shen Jiu’s flush deepened, and his hands twitched as though he wanted to smack him again. “Stop it!” he snapped, feeling more and more flustered.

Ace’s laughter spilled out, warm and infectious. It was carefree, easy, like he was basking in the very moment, pulling Shen Jiu into its warmth whether he liked it or not.

Ba-thump! Shen Jiu’s hand shot up to press on his chest as his heart stuttered strangely. A perplexed look came over his face.

Omake

Sj: my name is the number 9

Ace: cool

Sj: you’re not judgey??

Ace: well I'm pretty sure I'm named after a card. yknw like ace of spades

Sj: ???

Ace: ...basically I'm number 1

(he’s actually named after his dad’s sword, which isn’t much better tbh)

Omake 2 

My little brother, have i ever told you abt him - yes too many times - ya well my little brother used to ask for kisses cos kisses make the ouchie go away - uhhuh… - so chu is a good name. You make the ouchies go away - um.. okay… youre drunk bro

[hello-anchan]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60389362/chapters/154672186

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: “Good kid you got there, ‘Shizun’.”

Chapter 3/15

“His name was Sabo.” Ace paused for a moment, the weight of his memories pressing down on him. “Out of us three brothers, he was the smart one. The kind one.” He chuckled, a bitter sound. “I was a feral boy who grew up in the wilderness, who didn't know how to take care of anyone. Always messing things up. But Sabo… Sabo was different. He would’ve been a great man.”

“We made a promise to be free, to set sail and become pirates together when we turned 17. But Sabo died when he was just 10. Before his journey could even start. So, this—” He lifted his arm, the ink on his skin both a tribute and a burden. “This is in memory of his Jolly Roger. To carry him with me. To bring him along with me on my adventures. On our adventures.”

Shen Jiu was used to seeing people carry their burdens—hell, he was practically drowning in his own—but the weight of Ace’s seemed different. Raw. Unfinished. “And what about your other brother?”

“Luffy?” The change was immediate—a wide grin taking over the freckled face in an instant. “Man, Luffy’s a handful. But he’s the youngest so that’s to be expected, huh. If you think I'm an idiot, wait till you meet him!”

Shen Jiu huffed drily. “I can wait.”

“Trust me, you’ll love him! He just has this way with people, pulls you right in. Even when he’s being a pain in the ass.”

The way you do. The thought appeared in his mind unwittingly.

.

.

.

Never mind. He took it back. Ace would not shut up about his little brother, and Shen Jiu was seriously considering smacking him across the mouth with his fan.

—

Something was off with his disciples this afternoon. The day had started off strangely enough with his heart-to-heart with Ace in the morning. That had been more than enough human interaction for Shen Jiu, thank you very much. But this? This was a different kind of weird.

Shen Jiu caught the eyes of his head disciple, Ming Fan, who immediately looked away guiltily. Behind him, Ning Yingying and the other flowers of the peak were giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls. Their faces were flushed a healthy red. Too red. Very suspicious.

Ah.

The little beast wasn't in class, either, it seemed. No matter, that's something he would deal with later.

For now…

“I'll be returning your essays.” 

The earlier off-putting mood instantly drained from the room, replaced with an air of terror. Much better.

—

Ace had perched himself on top of a weathered tree stump, nestled in the heart of the bamboo forest, trying to meditate. The towering stalks swayed in the breeze, the rustling leaves almost soothing enough to help him find the stillness he was looking for. Almost.

Sure, he was cheating a little here and there—skimming the edges of his training rather than fully embracing it—but who would catch him? Not Shen Jiu. And that, frankly, was all that mattered to Ace.

His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady, the world around him slipping into the background. That is, until he felt a shift in the air. A sudden movement, too fast to ignore. 

Swing!

He pushed himself backwards just in time, the whoosh of a wooden sword cutting through the air where his head had been moments before.

"Whoa there," Ace grunted, twisting his body to regain balance.

A voice rang out from behind him, sharp and indignant. “Stay away from Shizun, you perverted lowlife!”

Ace turned around to find Luo Binghe, his face red with fury, wielding a wooden sword as though it were his personal vendetta.

Perverted lowlife? Ace blinked, then his lips quirked into a smirk. The kid clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with. He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful. “Hey, I think your Shizun’s got better taste than that. You sure you’re not confusing me with someone else?”

Luo Binghe’s grip on the sword tightened, but his eyes were filled with burning anger. "You’re not welcome here!"

Ace couldn't help but chuckle at the intensity in the boy’s voice. "You know, I think there's been a misunderstanding here." He waved his hands appeasingly. "Your Shizun found me while I was dying—literally dying, bleeding out, looking like a wreck. He patched me up, saved my life. Just look at this work of art here. That’s your Shizun’s handiwork.”

Luo Binghe paused, his brows furrowing as he took in Ace’s words. He glanced at the scar on Ace’s chest, then at Ace, then back to the scar. The rage in his expression started to waver, replaced with something much more childlike—a sort of awe.

“So… he saved you?” Luo Binghe asked, a little more quietly now. His stance softened, the wooden sword lowering slightly.

“Yeah,” Ace said, planting his hands on his hips, “Best thing that ever happened to me. Your Shizun’s a pretty damn amazing guy, y’know?”

Luo Binghe’s face brightened, his eyes wide with admiration. “That’s right! Shizun is amazing! He’s the best, the greatest, the smartest, and, of course, the prettiest!” He nodded vigorously, his chest puffing out with pride. "I always knew Shizun was the best at everything. No one can compare to him!"

"Prettiest, huh?" Ace quirked a brow, unable to suppress a grin. "You really look up to him, don’t you? I can’t say I blame you. He is pretty damn impressive."

Luo Binghe seemed to glow at the praise, an ear-splitting smile forming on his face. "Of course! Shizun’s so strong and smart, and he can do anything! I—I—I just know I’m going to make him proud someday!”

Ace let out a huff of laughter, the kid’s fervour amusing him to no end. The contrast between Luo Binghe’s absolute reverence and his initial hostility was almost too much to handle. “I’m sure you will. And I’m sure he appreciates it, even if he’s not the type to show it.”

“You think so?” Luo Binghe blinked up at him, big, puppy-like eyes brimming with hope.

Something in Ace’s chest wavered. The boy was adorable, earnest in a way that reminded him too much of his own little brother. Especially those dark, wide eyes… He reached out to ruffle Binghe’s unruly hair. “Yeah, I do. People like your Shizun? They might not say it, but they notice stuff like that. Trust me.”

Luo Binghe’s expression lit up with a smile so bright it almost rivalled Ace’s flames. 

“Just... don’t go around swinging that thing too much, alright?” The older man gestured at the boy’s training sword. “You’ll take someone’s eye out.”

Luo Binghe scowled, but it was clear there was no real malice behind it anymore. Just an odd mix of youthful fervour and admiration that Ace couldn’t help but find charming. He wondered if that was what Pops saw in him back then—the raw potential, the hunger to be seen and to belong.

“I think Shizun doesn’t like me very much though, and I don’t know why. I’ve been trying everything,” the boy blurted out suddenly. 

Ace tilted his head, genuinely surprised. “Doesn’t like you? Where’d you get that idea?”

“He calls me ‘little beast’ and never by my name,” Luo Binghe admitted, his voice a mix of frustration and sadness. “That can’t be a good thing, right?”

Ace snorted. “Beast? Are you kidding me? That’s hardcore. Honestly, sounds to me like he thinks you’re tough.”

“Really?” Luo Binghe’s eyes widened with a spark of hope.

“Absolutely.” Ace wagged his finger mock-seriously. “Look, your Shizun calls me ‘brute,’ okay? So by my logic, ‘little beast’ just means you’re a smaller version of me. And I’m awesome.” He confidently pointed his thumb at himself, earning a small laugh from the boy. “Besides, let me tell you something. Where I come from, being called a beast is a compliment. You know, I was raised in a jungle filled with gigantic beasts.”

The younger boy’s face lit up, instantly intrigued. “Gigantic beasts? What kind?”

“Oh, you know,” Ace leaned in like he was letting Luo Binghe in on a great secret. “Tigers the size of houses, huge gators that fill up entire rivers, and even birds that could snatch up a grown man like it’s nothing.”

“That’s incredible!” Luo Binghe practically vibrated with excitement, his earlier doubts forgotten. “Were you scared of them?”

“Scared?” Ace puffed out his chest with exaggerated bravado. “Nah. I lived with them. Fought them all the time too. I’m basically one of them.”

Luo Binghe looked up at Ace like he’d hung the stars.

As the evening stretched on, the air between Ace and Luo Binghe became increasingly comfortable. The initial tension of their meeting had completely dissipated, replaced with easy camaraderie. Ace found himself liking the kid more and more—there was something endearing about his earnestness, his desperate desire to prove himself.

At some point while they were exchanging stories, Luo Binghe shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to his lap. “Shizun… he’s always so hard on me. I try my best, I really do, but…” His voice wavered before he pushed on, “There was this one time, he poured a whole pot of tea over my head.”

Ace’s easy smile faltered. He straightened up, leaning forward slightly. “Wait, hold on. He did what?”

Luo Binghe’s shoulders tensed, his forced laugh barely masking the unease in his posture. He didn’t meet Ace’s gaze as the words tumbled out—how it was probably because he brewed the tea incorrectly. How he’d been made to clean the entire courtyard with his bare hands while the other disciples stood around, watching and laughing, encouraged by Shizun’s scathing remarks. How they’d hidden his training tools or deliberately sabotaged his efforts, only for Shizun to berate him even further. How even small mistakes—faltering in his stance, mispronouncing a mantra—were met with humiliating punishments. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, it always seemed like he was wrong, always falling short.

Ace’s eyes narrowed. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness for the boy in front of him. “So not only did he treat you like that, but he actually encouraged others to join in?”

Luo Binghe didn’t meet his gaze, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides, crumpling the fabric of his pants. “He said it would ‘teach me discipline’, that I was too soft... Maybe he was right.”

The air between them shifted, a subtle tension settling in as Ace’s frown deepened, his usual jovial demeanour replaced with something sharper. “Kid, that’s not discipline. That’s... not the way anyone should be treated. No one deserves to be treated like that, no matter what mistakes they’ve made.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Luo Binghe insisted, waving his hands as if trying to dismiss the moment. “Shizun was right to be angry. I was being careless.”

Ace’s brows furrowed as he studied the boy. There was no malice in Luo Binghe’s words—only a sad sort of acceptance, as though he’d convinced himself that the punishment was justified. Ace leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully.

“Look,” he said after a moment, his tone gentler now, “I don’t know your Shizun like you do, and I’m not trying to get between you two. But a teacher is supposed to guide you, not… dunk tea on your head. That’s just not right.”

Luo Binghe looked up at Ace, startled. “But Shizun’s the best,” he protested.

Ace gave him a small, crooked smile. “Hey, I’m not saying he’s not. Maybe he’s got his reasons. But you can still think he’s the best while also realising that what he did wasn’t cool. People can be complicated like that.”

Luo Binghe chewed on his lip, clearly mulling over Ace’s words. “So… you think I can still make him proud? Even if…”

“Even if he’s not perfect?” Ace finished for him. “Yeah, I do. You’re a good kid, Binghe. You’ve got the drive and the heart. And honestly? If he doesn’t see that, that’s on him, not you.”

For a long moment, Luo Binghe didn’t say anything, his wide eyes fixed on Ace’s face. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks, Ace-ge.”

“Ge?” Ace repeated with a grin, ruffling Luo Binghe’s hair again. “I like the sound of that. Now, how about you stop worrying so much and show me what else you’ve got? Bet you’ve got a mean swing with that sword of yours.”

The boy’s laughter rang out, clear and bright, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Ace thought he’d found something close to home.

It was late in the evening by the time Luo Binghe noticed the dimming light. His head snapped towards the horizon where the sun had almost completely disappeared. “Oh no! I’m late—I haven’t started on dinner for Shizun!”

Ace, still lounging on the tree stump with a relaxed grin, lifted a brow at the flustered boy.

Luo Binghe turned to him, suspicion glinting in his eyes. “Wait a minute… you’re the reason behind Shizun’s sudden improved appetite.” His tone was sharp, almost accusing, as if the pieces had just fallen into place.

Ace smirked, unbothered. “Yup, that’s me. I’m appetite.” He gestured to himself with a lazy flourish. Then, like lightning, the realisation struck Ace instead. His jaw dropped slightly, his finger pointing at Luo Binghe now. “Hold on—oh shit. You’re the one who’s been cooking those dishes?”

Luo Binghe blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yes?”

Ace leaned forward, the wide grin returning in full force. “Damn. You’re an awesome cook, kid.”

The boy’s face lit up with pride at the unexpected praise, though he quickly remembered his predicament and shook his head. “I—thank you, but I really need to go! If dinner’s late, Shizun will be upset.”

Ace laughed as the boy started rushing off. “Well, keep up the good work, Master Chef! Oh, and hey!” He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell after him. “Save me some leftovers!”

Watching the boy’s figure grow smaller as he disappeared into the distance, Ace said teasingly, “Good kid you got there, ‘Shizun’.”

The faint rustle of bamboo leaves betrayed Shen Jiu’s approach as he stepped out from behind a thicket of trees, his expression unreadable. “You knew I was here?”

Ace smirked, leaning casually against the tree stump. “From the moment you arrived.”

Shen Jiu crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping over Ace as if assessing him. “Hm. Not bad.”

Ace laughed, the sound easy and unrestrained. “‘Not bad’? Is that your way of saying ‘good job’? Man, you’re really stingy with compliments, aren’t you?”

Shen Jiu rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked up ever so slightly. “Don’t push your luck, brute.”

Ace raised his hands in mock surrender, a chuckle still rumbling in his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it, 'Shizun'.”

—

Dinner that night arrived in the hands of an awkwardly blushing Luo Binghe, who presented the heaping trays of food with all the solemnity of a sacred offering. His cheeks were practically glowing as he stammered, “Sh-Shizun, this disciple will continue to work hard to make you proud!”

The sheer earnestness in Luo Binghe’s eyes was... unsettling. This wasn’t the usual fawning admiration Shen Jiu was accustomed to—this was something else. A deep, genuine desire to please that Shen Jiu didn’t quite know how to handle.

“...Mn,” was all he could manage.

If Luo Binghe noticed his master’s awkwardness, he didn’t show it. His smile only grew wider, his face alight with unmistakable joy as he backed out, bowing deeply.

Shen Jiu stared at the now-empty porch before him.

What... just happened?

Omake (literally just my notes for writing this chapter)

Ace - isn’t it cool, sorta sounds like you’re a smaller version of me. Beast sounds like a hardcore nickname anw lemme tell you all about the gigantic beasts you can find on my home island in the mountain jungle i was raised in

Lbh sparkly eyes - so cool

Sj, spying from behind some bushes - what kind of childhood–???

[hello-anchan]

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Chapter Summary: A fragile trust began to form between them, one word at a time.

Chapter 2/15

He promised that he would live a life without regrets.

“Hey, are you alright? Hey.” 

He promised that he would come back.

“Please! Please help Ace!” 

He promised that he would never die.

“Oi, somebody! Help Ace! Please!” 

He should’ve known, with shitty blood like his, he couldn’t even keep a single fucking promise. 

“Oi, brute, food’s here.”

Ace’s eyes snapped open, the homely scent of freshly cooked food overwriting the nightmarish scenes that raced through his mind. 

Somehow, despite all the effort he’d put into learning how to pronounce Ace’s name correctly, Shen Jiu had resorted to calling him ‘brute’. Not the worst name Ace had been called so far, to be honest, so he'd chosen to roll with it.

He slowly pushed himself up, the tip of Shen Jiu’s hand fan (ooh, it’s a pale silver-blue one this time) pushing-poking at his shoulder blade the only form of aid offered by the cultivator. 

Then he began to devour food at a pace that could only be described as inhuman, a literal mountain of empty bowls and plates stacking precariously beside him. Shen Jiu had tried to look away, but the sheer spectacle of it was impossible to ignore. The man ate like he hadn’t seen food in weeks—grabbing steamed buns two at a time, tearing into spring rolls like a starved beast, and slurping soup with enough noise to make a war drum seem subtle.

“Damn, this is -munchmunch- actually delicious. -chewchew- You tryna win your way -chompchomp- to my heart through your food or something? ‘Cause it might actually -burp- work.”

Shen Jiu’s eye twitched. Did this man have no shame? His fan snapped open with a flourish as he raised it to shield himself from the barbaric display, as though its elegant fluttering could somehow cleanse the air of this… this peasant’s complete lack of decorum.

“Please refrain from talking with your mouth full,” Shen Jiu snapped, his tone cutting. It’s like speaking to a feral dog, he thought, though even a dog might show more restraint. “You’re a grown man, not a wild beast.”

And yet, despite his sharp words, the man’s cheeky grin didn’t falter. Ace simply clapped his hands together in mock reverence and bowed over the towering stack of empty trays. “Thanks for the food!” 

“At least you have some manners,” Shen Jiu muttered, though his voice lacked conviction as he gathered the trays. His gaze flitted over the remains of Ace’s carnage—the crumpled napkins, the greasy smears, the precariously balanced plates. A flicker of something unfamiliar stirred in him. Pity? Relief? He brushed it off with a scoff, though he couldn’t quite keep his thoughts from wandering.

What kind of life had this man lived to eat like he might never see another meal again? Shen Jiu grimaced at the greasy fingerprints smudging the trays, but his annoyance couldn’t entirely smother the faint pang of recognition. He eats like someone who’s been starved. I know what that feels like. 

He quickly waved the thought away. This wasn’t his problem. He didn’t care about this brute’s tragic backstory, whatever it might be. Yet as Ace leaned back with a satisfied sigh, rubbing his stomach like a contented cat, Shen Jiu couldn’t help but notice how the man’s face looked less gaunt now, less haunted. And that, against all logic, felt like a small victory.

Why do I bother? Shen Jiu scowled at himself as he turned away to clean up the mess. He’s just another idiot freeloading off me. That’s all. 

—

“Ah, Shizun, how was the food?”

Luo Binghe stood eagerly at the front porch of his teacher’s secluded bamboo house, his hands clasped tightly as he awaited a verdict. It was the first day since he'd been tasked with the prestigious yet nerve-wracking role of Shen Jiu’s personal cook—courtesy of Ning Yingying’s overly enthusiastic volunteering of his services. The Qing Jing Peak Lord, ever indulgent toward his favourite female disciple, had acquiesced with only mild reluctance. To Luo Binghe, that alone was a monumental victory.

“Little beast,” Shen Jiu barely spared the boy a glance, “Bring the same amount over for dinner.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes widened as his gaze flickered to the trays his shizun carried. They were empty. Completely cleaned out! Excitement bubbled within him as he tried to suppress the smile threatening to bloom across his face. This was a good sign. A great sign! Shizun liked his cooking—he could tell!

The boy straightened his back, brimming with determination. He would outdo himself for dinner. Yes, anything for his Shizun, who was finally warming up to him!

The puppy-like disciple admired his teacher’s immortal-like appearance as the latter continued to bring out stack after stack of emptied food trays. Every detail of his shizun was immaculate as always: the neat topknot bound with a jade hairpin that gleamed in the sunlight, the faint yet soothing scent of fresh bamboo and jasmine that accompanied him, the graceful way his sleeves swept as he leaned forward.

“Wait.”

“Yes, Shizun?”

“Make it twice the amount.”

“Yes, Shizun!”

Barely able to contain his enthusiasm, Luo Binghe spun on his heel and bolted away from the bamboo house, a cartoonishly tall stack of trays balanced expertly in his arms. His steps were nimble yet purposeful as he disappeared into the bamboo forest, determination etched into every line of his expression.

Time was ticking, and there was no doubt in his mind: he would craft a feast so grand it would forever leave a mark in Shizun’s stoma- errr, heart!

—

“Feel your meridians opening up. Let your qi flow-”

“I don’t get it,” Ace interrupted, digging a finger up his nostril.

Shen Jiu’s lips twitched. He barely held back an unseemly squeak of disgust as he snapped his steel-plated fan closed and swatted the offending finger away with precise disdain. “I am trying to help you heal faster, you brute. At least pretend to have some decorum.”

“I know-” 

“And you are testing my patience.”

“-but I'm a dumbass!” Ace proclaimed with a blinding grin. “Leave me alone, and I’ll heal up just fine.”

Shen Jiu, unfortunately, was none too impressed. “Yes, I'm sure, as all ‘dumbasses’ are wont to do.”

“Exactly!”

The cultivator let out a slow, measured exhale, his grip on the fan tightening ever so slightly. He directed his dirtiest glare at the bedridden dork before him, one that could curdle milk. Ace, however, remained blissfully impervious, smiling like a sunbeam.

For all his bravado, there was something familiar in Ace’s flippant defiance. It reminded Shen Jiu too much of himself when he had fought to maintain control in a world that wouldn’t stop kicking him down. Shen Jiu shoved the thought aside. Then proceeded to jab the tip of his fan into Ace’s lower back. “Posture,” he snapped sharply.

“Yowch!” Ace jolted upright, straightening his spine begrudgingly.

“Better.” Shen Jiu folded his fan with a sharp snick. “Now, close your eyes. Breathe. Imagine your qi flowing like water, moving freely through your meridians. It is not a difficult concept, even for a ‘dumbass’.”

Ace cleared his throat and adjusted his position, trying his best to follow instructions. Something about breathing and something else about Mary. He could do this. Probably.

“Focus,” Shen Jiu barked, eyeing Ace’s uneven breathing with undisguised scepticism.

“Right, right,” Ace muttered. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh.

"Your shoulders are slumping again."

“For fuck’s sa-!”

After what felt like several hours ("It’s barely been half an hour, stop being such a wimp."), Shen Jiu let out a long-suffering sigh, snapped his fan shut with a sharp click, and released Ace from what could only be described as psychological torture disguised as meditation.

Freed at last, Ace slowly ran through his stretches—seated only, of course. “Don’t you dare stand up yet," Shen Jiu had hissed at him earlier, pointing with his fan like a blade poised to strike.

As Ace leaned forward to touch his toes, he decided to fish for answers. Let it be known: he could be subtle when necessary.

“So, uh,” he began casually, “it’s a bit late for me to ask, but where exactly is this place?”

So much for subtlety.

Shen Jiu’s sharp gaze flicked toward him, unimpressed. “Oh? Now you want to ask?” His tone dripped with disdain. “Fine. Start talking. From the top. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Uh, okay, well…” Ace scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “One moment I was in a warzone and dying, the next, I’m waking up next to a worried-looking cutie—EEOWWCH!”

The fan’s blunt edge cracked sharply against his cheek before he even finished the sentence.

“OI!” Ace barked, clutching his face as he blinked back pained tears. “I WAS JUST TRYING TO KEEP THE MOOD LIGHT!”

“Keep it light, and I’ll keep bruising your insufferable face,” Shen Jiu retorted icily. He pulled back his fan with an elegant flick, unfurling it in one smooth motion to resume fanning himself.

Ace glared at the aloof cultivator, rubbing the growing bruise on his cheek. How is this even possible? he wondered incredulously. I’m literally made of fire—how is he hurting me? The memory of another “teacher” flashed in his mind, a certain old man who also didn’t hesitate to dish out physical reprimands. This is like Gramps’ Fist of Love all over again. 

Shen Jiu’s gaze bore down on him, expectant and unwavering.

“...Okay, okay, no more jokes. Sheesh. Don’t have to fan-slap me into the next dimension.” Ace muttered the last part under his breath, his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Good,” Shen Jiu said, tone clipped and decisive. “Now, a warzone, you say?” He hummed, his eyes narrowing as he mentally rifled through a timeline. “Don’t think I’ve heard about any wars taking place recently, although the mortal realm is constantly facing disasters. The last real war we had was more than 10 years ago, between the Heavenly Demon Tianlang Jun and the major cultivation sects.”

“Damn, which pirate crew is that? They sound pretty badass.”

“… Brute, as much of an idiot you seem to be, you do understand that I am talking about actual demons, yes?”

“You mean like devils, right? Devil fruits?”

“Demons.”

“So, not devil fruits?”

There were few people in the world who could render Shen Jiu utterly speechless, and Ace was apparently one of them. Shen Jiu’s brows twitched as he considered responding—or simply walking out of the room entirely.

“Explain these 'devil fruits' of yours.” Shen Jiu finally bit out.

Ace’s lips stretched into a cheeky grin as he lit his hand on fire.

No, Shen Jiu did not flinch. He did not.

Ace extended his flaming hand, jerking his chin at Shen Jiu. “Go on, touch it. It won’t bite.”

Expression as cold and unperturbed as ever, Shen Jiu placed his hand over Ace’s flames without hesitation. They weren’t hot, merely warm—almost soothing, like basking in sunlight.

“Where I’m from,” Ace began, “there are these fruits called devil fruits that randomly show up all over the world. Whoever eats one gains a unique ability. Mine was the Flame-Flame Fruit—it turned me into a man made of fire.” He gently grasped Shen Jiu’s hand, letting the flames ripple like a living entity between their palms.

Shen Jiu stared, transfixed. The fire pulsed like a heartbeat, its warmth spreading up his arm, but never to the point of discomfort.

“I’ve got pretty good control over it,” Ace added with a toothy grin as the flame receded back into his hand. “Is there no such thing as a devil fruit here?”

When Ace released his hand, Shen Jiu rubbed his palm against his sleeve as though to erase the lingering warmth. “...There are many things yet to be discovered in this world.”

Ace tilted his head, catching the subtle shift in Shen Jiu’s tone. Though phrased as an observation, it was an indirect way of breaking the news gently. No such thing as devil fruits here. Ace wasn’t a complete idiot. He could feel it in the air, see it in the unfamiliar horizon outside the window—this wasn’t his world. He’d known deep down from the moment Shen Jiu had saved him instead of leaving him to die.

After all, if this were his world, who would go out of their way to save Gol D. Ace, son of the infamous Pirate King?

“Damn,” Ace murmured, his grin faltering into something softer, more pensive. “I must be really far from home.”

Shen Jiu studied him from the corner of his eye, noting the vulnerability that briefly flickered across Ace’s face. It didn’t suit him, Shen Jiu decided.

“How unbecoming,” he said sharply, snapping open his fan to flutter it in front of his face. “Smile like the fool you are, brute.”

“You mentioned a war earlier.”

Dusk had melted into night, and the wind whispered as it blew through the bamboo forest, rustling the leaves. The air outside was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the candlelit room. Ace faced the open window to his left, breathing in the scent of damp earth, his face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.

“What was it for?”

The freckled man shrugged carelessly, his posture relaxed, “A war to get rid of a shitty bloodline, that’s all.”

The bluntness of the words settled heavily in the space between them. Shen Jiu watched him for a long moment, his fan frozen in mid-air, the ghost of an old, familiar bitterness twisting in his gut.

“Is that so?” His voice was colder than intended. For a moment, he could almost see the shadows of his own past—wars fought, blood spilled, families lost.

Training his spiritual qi became a regular exercise for Ace. Sure, he still didn’t get it, not exactly, but his body certainly felt lighter, more attuned to the flow of energy, and his mind sharper the more he did those meditation exercises that Shen Jiu insisted on. Vaguely, he wondered if it was similar to training one’s haki. 

If so, that explained how the slightest hit from the cultivator could hurt him - that asshole had probably been imbuing his hand fans with qi. Bastard probably didn't have a single shred of sympathy for him. Ace snorted derisively.

Jab! “Focus.”

Of course, Shen Jiu wouldn’t let up. It was like the man had a sixth sense for when Ace was about to slack off. Ace’s fist clenched, and he spun around, his mouth already working faster than his brain. “Quit poking me like that! Who the hell do you think—”

But Shen Jiu’s cold stare stopped him mid-sentence. There was no anger there, no challenge—just that damn, unflappable calm. Ace’s jaw tightened. He swallowed the words he had ready to throw. 

He wanted to keep shouting, to make Shen Jiu see just how much he hated being treated like a damn child. But there was something about the way Shen Jiu stood there, silently waiting, that made Ace feel like a child. Shen Jiu wasn’t backing down. And in the face of his unshakable composure, Ace felt that familiar itch in his chest. The urge to fight back, to prove something, but all he could do was grit his teeth and clench his fists. He couldn’t stand it—the calmness, the quiet strength, the way Shen Jiu made him feel like he wasn’t in control of his own damn body.

Shen Jiu sighed, that deep, resigned sigh that made Ace want to punch something. “If you’d just—”

“I said I’m fine!” Ace interrupted, voice louder than he intended. He instantly regretted it, the words souring in his mouth, but it was too late. His body was already moving, his hands shaking with frustrated energy, needing to prove something. Anything. “I don’t need your help!”

For a second, Shen Jiu’s eyes flickered, the barest hint of surprise. But it was gone so quickly, Ace might have imagined it. Shen Jiu just shook his head, like he was dealing with a lost cause.

And Ace? He hated that. He hated being treated like he wasn’t worth the effort, like all his fighting spirit didn’t mean a damn thing in a world where people like Shen Jiu could do this—calm, controlled, not needing to prove anything. Ace felt like a goddamn mess.

But he couldn’t stop himself. The anger, the frustration—it was all a part of him now. So he pushed it all out, unwilling to swallow it down. Unwilling to back down.

“Breathe, you brute.”

Shen Jiu’s voice—cool, calm, impossibly smooth—washed over Ace like cold water, dousing the fire inside him. Forcing him to breathe. Slowly. Deeply. He gritted his teeth, but he did it. The rush of blood in his veins slowed, and his pulse settled, his hands still shaking, but this time, with something different— restraint .

Shen Jiu wasn’t just teaching him qi circulation. He was teaching him restraint. 

Ace could have rolled his eyes at how much Shen Jiu’s persistence reminded him of his own gramps. But, if anything, the two were almost polar opposites. Garp the Fist had been brash and violent, charging straight into every problem without hesitation or grace, always swinging his fists first and asking questions later. No patience, no subtlety; it was all about power, force, and brute strength. That was how you survived in a world where the powerful ruled, and weakness was something to be eradicated. 

Gramps had taught him that very well. Every punch, every brutal kick had been a lesson in survival—there were no second chances. You either learned to fight or you died trying. His gramps didn’t believe in slow, steady cultivation. That kind of crap wasn’t going to keep you alive, not when the world was out to tear you apart.

But Shen Jiu? Shen Jiu was a master of restraint. Precise. Calculated. Almost maddeningly meticulous in his approach. His movements were deliberate, his voice always measured—the kind of person who would beat you down with sharp, controlled strikes rather than brute force. Ace didn’t know if he admired it or hated it. Probably both.

Thwack! “Your mind’s drifting again.” Shen Jiu’s voice carried a smirk, as if he knew Ace was about to figure something out. Ace bit off a curse, huffing in frustration. But there was no fire in his response this time. He let the cool voice, the unshakable calm, settle over him again. Control, restraint, knowing when to hold back—this was something he needed to master.

Every morning, Shen Jiu would drill Ace on the basics of this world’s cultivation techniques, correcting his form with sharp remarks and the occasional flick with his fan. After leaving him to train for a few hours, Shen Jiu would return by midday to rebandage Ace’s wounds and continue their lessons—unless his other duties called him away.

In the evenings, over the faint glow of lamplight and shared meals (though, really, it was just Ace devouring plate after plate), they would talk. Not about anything important, at first—just the mundane details of life on Qing Jing Peak or Ace’s bizarre adventures before arriving in this world. But as days stretched into nights, their conversations deepened. Shen Jiu, for once, found himself speaking freely. Ace’s straightforwardness, his lack of hidden motives or calculated moves, made it easy.

It was... nice, Shen Jiu admitted to himself, to talk without constantly weighing his words or bracing for judgement. Ace’s genuine openness felt disarming in a way that both irritated and soothed him.

A fragile trust began to form between them, one word at a time. 

Shen Jiu would teach Ace all about the intricacies of the cultivation world. From magical beasts and mystical plants -

“You can eat them? I want to try some.” 

-Disgusted- “Are you drooling?” 

- to immortality -

“Wait, so how old are you?” 

“…”  

“… seriously?”  

“…” 

- and even about demons and the dark arts.

“Wait, you can steal someone's soul and use it as your own? Sounds kinda like a devil fruit power to me.” 

“... Perhaps those devil fruits of yours and the demonic arts in my world have more in common than I thought.” 

In return, Ace regaled the cultivator with unbelievable tales of his adventures out on the wild seas of his world, leaving Shen Jiu both fascinated and sceptical.

“I am not saying I don't believe you.” 

-Suspicious squinted eyes- “Uh huh.” 

“I just do not think it’s possible for there to be goldfish poop big enough to form an entire island.” 

“Heh, made you say ‘poo-’ OW!” 

“Giants?” 

“As tall as entire mountains.” 

“Ridiculous. If they were that big, they’d leave footprints the size of lakes.” 

“Exactly! Makes 'em pretty easy to track, too.” 

“There are pirates in this world too.” 

“Really?” 

“But they are not at all as impressive as how you make the ones from your world sound.” 

If Shen Jiu had a fleeting thought that the freckled brute’s pleased laughter was cute, well… he’d never admit it, not even to himself.

One hot, drowsy night, Ace brought up a question that had been floating around in his mind. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to travel the world?”

He looked expectantly at the well-dressed cultivator sitting beside him, ready for a deep, reflective conversation on travel and freedom.

Instead—

“I’m a cultivator,” Shen Jiu said flatly, as if that should be explanation enough. At Ace’s questioning look, Shen Jiu sighed, “I’m a Peak Lord of a very well-known sect.”

“Um, okay, you just said a bunch of words that don’t really mean anything to me.”

Sometimes, Shen Jiu thought to himself, talking to this so-called pirate was far more vexing than dealing with his insufferable fellow Peak Lords—their endless bickering, self-righteous attitudes, and penchant for meddling in affairs that didn’t concern them. At least with them, he knew what to expect. Ace, on the other hand, was an entirely different kind of headache. 

And so, Ace learnt that out of countless cultivation sects in this world, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect was known to be one of the best, and that cultivators regularly travel around on missions to help the ordinary people. 

Ace whistled roguishly, impressed. “Damn, so you’re actually some big deal, huh? Is that why you’re always running off somewhere doing stuff?”

… And so, Ace learnt that they were currently perched atop Qing Jing peak, one of the 12 peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain—the sect's namesake. Shen Jiu wasn’t just important, he was a Peak Lord, which meant he had responsibilities. Among those responsibilities was teaching and raising disciples.

“You!? You’re a teacher!?”

“Is it so difficult to believe.” It was phrased as a question, but Shen Jiu sure didn’t say it like one. Ace, however, wouldn’t be Ace if he didn’t try to push a few buttons. He was still learning the ropes of restraint, after all.

“Well, not really. I guess the whole strict, listen-to-me-or-I’ll-smack-you vibe is there... but damn.”

Shen Jiu shot him an unimpressed look.

Ace grinned winningly, then his smile faltered. “Wait, does that mean the food I’ve been eating this whole time wasn’t cooked by you?” 

It was a full two weeks before Shen Jiu deemed Ace healthy enough to be off bedrest. For the first time, Ace stepped out of the sideroom. Sure, he’d been allowed to leave the windows open to let in some fresh air, but nothing beats actually being outside. 

Ace stretched his limbs with an exaggerated groan of relief. His muscles practically itched for a workout. But before he could take another step, Shen Jiu shoved him back into the room with a swift push of his fan. Confused, Ace looked back at the man, only to have a robe flung in his face.

"Put this on," Shen Jiu snapped, "You’re looking like a beggar more than ever in those ragged trousers of yours."

Ace glanced at the robe in his arms briefly, then tossed it aside and unceremoniously yanked down his ratty shorts.

Shen Jiu let out an aghast screech, slamming the door shut as he hurried out the room. "HAVE SOME SHAME!"

Ace snorted, undeterred. Moments later, the door slid open again, revealing a still half-naked Ace. The top half of the robe, left undone, hung loosely around his waist, exposing his bandaged upper body.

Shen Jiu raised an eyebrow, his patience clearly thinning. "Do you not know how to put clothes on properly?"

Ace shrugged casually. "I’m made of fire, I run hot."

Shen Jiu’s expression tightened. "Bullshit. You literally told me you can control your flames."

Ace flashed a grin. "And that also means I don’t feel the cold." He gave a playful wink.

Shen Jiu’s eye twitched.

And with that, Ace finally stepped outside, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin and the breeze sifting through the bamboo leaves. After weeks of recovery and confinement, nothing compared to the freedom of this moment. His skin thrummed under the sun and he spread his arms out wide as he breathed in deeply.

Shen Jiu watched him, unwillingly mesmerised by the sight. Truly, Ace was a child of the sun and the seas—he practically glowed outside. The interplay of freckles across his face and the dappled light filtering through the bamboo leaves made him seem almost otherworldly, like he belonged more to the elements than the earth itself.

"Hey," Ace’s voice broke through the moment.

"Mn?" Shen Jiu snapped out of his reverie, shaking off the strange sense of awe.

“Is it alright if we take off the bandages?” Ace asked, his tone light but hopeful.

Shen Jiu hesitated. His initial reaction was to refuse—the bandages were there for a reason. But seeing Ace so vibrant, so alive in this moment, he wondered if perhaps a little sunlight and fresh air might do more for healing than any cloth wrapping could. 

"...Fine," Shen Jiu said at last, though his tone remained stern.

They sat together on the long, open corridor that ran alongside the bamboo house, the atmosphere surprisingly serene. Ace swung his legs idly, letting them dangle outside the edge of the corridor, the very picture of ease. Shen Jiu sat behind him, methodically unwinding the bandages. The sunlight glinted off the cultivator’s fan (a pristine white, with gold leaf accents lining the edges, Ace had noted), now set aside, as he worked in silence.

The largest bandage, the one over Ace’s chest, was the last to come off. Shen Jiu’s movements slowed as he revealed the scar—jagged, raw, but completely healed over. It was a stark reminder of the gaping wound Ace had when he first arrived, barely alive.

Ace glanced down, running a hand over the scar on his chest. "Huh," he said softly, his usual grin momentarily replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. "Guess I’ll live."

Shen Jiu didn’t respond immediately, his eyes lingering on the scar on Ace’s back. There was something about the way Ace said it—not flippant, but grateful, as if he hadn’t quite expected to.

The moment passed as quickly as it came. Ace turned his face up to the sun, the grin sliding back into place. "Told you I didn’t need all those bandages. I heal quick."

Shen Jiu snorted, picking up his fan again. "You’re still reckless," he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice.

Ace laughed, leaning back on his hands. "And you’re still bossy."

For once, Shen Jiu didn’t argue. The quiet rustle of the bamboo leaves filled the space between them as they sat together in companionable silence.

“My back,” Ace said suddenly, breaking the quiet. He twisted slightly, looking over his shoulder at Shen Jiu. “Can you see a tattoo at all?”

Shen Jiu blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt question. His eyes flicked to Ace’s back—marred by a large patch of rough, reddened skin, and faint lines of white and purple at the edges. He’d noticed the remnants of some sort of design before but had never thought to comment on it.

“A little bit,” Shen Jiu said at last, his voice carefully neutral.

Ace let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “I had a tattoo there. Of my Pops’ Jolly Roger.”

“Pops,” Shen Jiu echoed, familiar enough with Ace’s tales to understand who he meant. “Whitebeard,” he added after a beat, recalling the pirate Ace had spoken about with such pride—his captain and adoptive father, a man who was known as the Strongest Man in his world.

“Yeah,” Ace said softly, his voice quieter than usual.

Shen Jiu’s gaze lingered on the faint remnants of the tattoo. The edges of white and purple lines seemed to struggle against the damaged skin, like a memory trying not to fade away. For a moment, he debated saying something dismissive—it wasn’t his style to coddle—but the forlorn note in Ace’s voice made him pause. Instead, he chose his words carefully.

“It’s still there,” Shen Jiu said, his tone surprisingly soft. “Faint, but there.”

Ace tilted his head back slightly, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah? Mind tracing it out? Just so I can get a feel for what’s left?”

The request caught Shen Jiu off guard. He frowned, considering how utterly unnecessary it seemed, but Ace’s expression was disarmingly earnest. After a moment, Shen Jiu sighed, resigned, and leaned closer.

Cool fingers ghosted over Ace’s scarred back, hesitating before they began to trace the faint outlines of the tattoo. The touch was precise, almost clinical, as Shen Jiu outlined what he could discern of the design. The lines were jagged in some places, blurred in others, but Shen Jiu’s focus didn’t waver.

Ace sat still, his breathing even. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice unusually subdued. “Pops was... well, he meant a lot to me. That mark was proof I was part of something bigger. Guess it’s a good thing it didn’t all burn away, huh?”

Shen Jiu didn’t respond immediately, his hand pausing mid-trace. The notion of belonging—of loyalty so strong it was worn like armour—wasn’t something Shen Jiu could easily grasp. But for Ace, it seemed to be a cornerstone of his identity.

“You could always have it redone,” Shen Jiu said finally, his tone more matter-of-fact than sympathetic. “If it’s that important.”

Ace turned to glance at him, grinning faintly. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s not just about the mark, y’know? It’s what it represents. Even if it fades completely, I’ll still remember.”

For a fleeting moment, Shen Jiu envied that certainty, that pride in one’s place in the world. He pulled his hand back, tapping Ace lightly on the shoulder with his fan. “Then stop whining about it.”

Ace laughed, loud and bright, and Shen Jiu turned away, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What about the one on your arm? What does it say?” Shen Jiu gestured, his gaze flicking towards the inked letters on Ace's bicep.

Ace blinked. “Oh, yeah. Forgot you probably can’t read it. Different world, different letters, huh?” He flexed his arm slightly, letting the tattoo catch the sunlight. “It spells out my name. See? A-S-” He paused, tracing the crossed-out letter with his finger. “-C-E.”

Shen Jiu raised an elegant eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint, unimpressed smirk. “Narcissistic much?”

Ace snickered. “Can’t argue with that. Buuut,” he tilted his arm closer to Shen Jiu, holding it out expectantly, “See this crossed-out letter here?”

Shen Jiu hesitated, then leaned in to inspect it. Before he could stop himself, his fingers lightly brushed Ace’s skin, tracing over the black X that crossed out the ‘S.’ The warmth of Ace’s sun-kissed skin under his fingertips startled him, but his curiosity outweighed his discomfort. “A mistake?” he murmured.

Ace shook his head, his grin softening. “Nah. That’s a memento of my brother.”

Shen Jiu’s hand stilled. “You have a brother?”

“I had two,” Ace corrected, his tone steady but tinged with something quieter, heavier.

Shen Jiu caught the use of the past tense immediately. When he spoke, the usual sharpness in his voice was tempered. “I had a brother too.”

The words hung between them like the stillness before a storm. Ace turned towards him sharply, the movement bringing their faces unexpectedly close. Too close.

Shen Jiu froze, his breath catching in his throat. He could see the constellations of freckles dotting Ace’s cheeks and down his neck and upper body, could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as if the sun itself lived within him. That probably wasn’t too far off—Ace was a man made of literal fire, after all.

Ace’s grey eyes locked onto his, full of curiosity and something deeper that Shen Jiu couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them, Ace’s carrying a heat that seemed to seep under Shen Jiu’s skin.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn’t empty. It was heavy, charged, humming with unspoken words that hovered just out of reach.

Shen Jiu’s fingers twitched against Ace’s arm, an unconscious movement that startled him into pulling back sharply. He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. “Your sense of personal space is atrocious,” he muttered, his tone back to its usual sharpness.

Ace’s laugh, low and teasing, filled the space between them like sunlight breaking through clouds. “And your reaction time is terrible. What would your disciples think?”

Shen Jiu refused to dignify that with a response. Instead, he flicked open his fan, fanning himself dramatically, as if the warmth of the morning sun—and Ace—was simply too much to endure.

–

This—this was big news!

Ning Yingying, the picture of innocence and virtue (or so she swore), huffed and puffed her way toward the disciples’ dormitories, her heart pounding like a war drum. But this… this was not something even her pure, maidenly sensibilities could handle.

Qing Jing Peak’s favoured female disciple slammed the doors open with enough force to rattle the hinges, sending more than a few lounging disciples scrambling to their feet.

“Shimei!” Head Disciple Ming Fan shot up, rushing towards her in alarm. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?!”

Her face, flushed a brilliant scarlet and practically steaming, made the situation seem dire—Ning Yingying whipped her head around, making absolutely certain she had the undivided attention of every single person in the room.

When she finally spoke, her voice trembled, not with fear, but with something closer to… glee. 

“There’s a handsome half-naked man in Shizun’s house!”

A hush fell over the room.

And then—clang! 

Ning Yingying whipped her head around in surprise.

Luo Binghe, who had been cleaning his cooking pans by the river outside, had dropped everything he was holding with a resounding crash.

[hello-anchan]

One Piece x SVSSS Crossover Fic

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace/Shen Jiu | Original Shen Qingqiu

Summary: In the last moments of his life at Marineford, Portgas D. Ace fell into a mysterious rift and landed in a foreign realm, far from his own world.

On an ordinary night in the secluded Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, Qing Jing Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu was caught off guard by a strange occurrence. A flash of fire appeared in his room, then faded, leaving behind a bleeding, unconscious man.

- One teaches about the cultivation world, while the other regales of the seas he once sailed. A fragile connection sparks between them. Can two broken souls inspire each other to live?

Chapter 1/15

(gonna start posting this on my tumblr too, wheee)

1. The Fire that Wouldn't Die

“You promised me!”

He could feel his brother’s clammy, bloodied arms grip him close. The sound of Luffy’s hammering heartbeat echoed into his ears as his head rested on Luffy’s shoulder. Good. That meant his little brother was alive.

“You said that you’d never die… no matter what!”

He could feel- feel? He could barely feel anything at this point. Akainu’s fist had punctured him cleanly from behind, emerging out his chest on the other side, his organs were probably burning away, and he should be in unimaginable pain right now, but his nerves were literally fried. Guess he really was going to die.

“ACE!”

His poor little brother, poor crybaby Luffy. But it’ll be okay. Luffy’s not alone anymore. Not when he’s surrounded by such reliable crewmates. He can let go now, right? He can rest in peace, right?

(Could someone with blood as dirty as his really be allowed to rest in peace?)

“For loving someone like me, who is good for nothing and who has such bad blood in his veins, thank you!”

At the exact moment Ace lost consciousness and his body went slack, a black rift opened up underneath him.

—

Smack!

Shen Jiu grumbled under his breath as he flicked away yet another terribly written essay. Bunch of incompetent fools, he admonished, what was Ming Fan doing? How could the disciples of his Qing Jing Peak dare call themselves scholars with writing this abysmal? He reached out for another essay to mark when his nostrils twitched.

Something’s burning.

He immediately turned around, robes swishing, ready to call for his trusty sword Xiu Ya. But what met his sight was a flash of fire that faded away as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind a body. Right on the floor of his living quarters. 

Questions raced through his mind - Was he under attack? Who? How did it get here without him noticing? - but before he could react, the body moved. Or rather, it attempted to move. 

As Shen Jiu stared at the man’s face, a sense of unease gripped him. The pain and defiance in his eyes - so familiar, so haunting - struck a chord deep within him, even as the man faded in and out of consciousness. The man opened his mouth, but only raspy, desperate huffs escaped. His reddened eyes locked onto Shen Jiu’s -

What? What are you asking of me?

- then his gaze faltered, eyelids fluttering shut, and his body went still once more.

Shen Jiu looked at the unmoving form, the silence in the room suddenly feeling heavier. Blood began to pool beneath the man, spreading slowly from where he laid. For a moment, Shen Jiu just stood there, paralysed, staring.

And then, without fully understanding why, Shen Jiu reached out. 

Not to hurt, but to help.

(Could someone with hands as filthy as his even have the right to try?)

He turned the unconscious man onto his back. His hands trembled as they hovered over the gaping wound in the man’s chest, the hole so deep he could see the floor beneath it. The sight of it made his stomach churn. Yet, he pressed his palms to the injury, and began the qi-transferring technique with shaky breaths.

It was simply for his own amusement, Shen Jiu reasoned with himself, for practice even. He tried to control his erratic breathing as more and more fresh blood began to coat the palms of his hands. After all…

(How could a broken, ugly thing like him ever save anyone?)

Shen Jiu suffered from a qi deficiency that made him more susceptible to qi deviations. Why was a Peak Lord like himself so privy to qi deviation, you may ask?

Well, blame that on his none-too-idyllic past, which heavily featured neglect and poor self-care. Not for lack of trying on his part, mind you.

Yet, here he was, using his pitifully thin spiritual qi reserves to help heal a complete stranger. A stranger who appeared in his abode under extremely suspicious conditions at that.

It helped that the man’s own qi didn’t fight back against Shen Jiu’s exploring qi. 

After several rounds of running his qi through the man’s meridians, ensuring that he would, at the very least, continue to breathe, Shen Jiu finally pulled away. A deep breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped him as he stood, stiff and unsettled by the proximity of the stranger’s fragile, bloodied form.

Suppressing the gnawing unease in his gut, Shen Jiu made his way to his medicine cabinet. His hands, still trembling, still covered in blood, moved mechanically as he rifled through the shelves. Thank goodness for Mu Qingfang’s annoyingly frequent check-ups on himself, he thought bitterly. As unnecessary as they had felt in the past, now his cabinets were stocked with more than enough salves and potions to patch the stranger up - just another damn thing to thank the Qian Cao Peak Lord for.

Over the course of the long night, as he cleaned, wrapped bandages, and slathered salves all over countless injuries, tendrils of fire would flicker from all over the man’s body. It surprised him at first, but he gradually learnt that the fire did not burn him, nor did it scorch the bandages. In fact, it seemed to be aiding in the stranger’s healing.

“Is it a sentient being?” The scholarly cultivator murmured, not expecting an answer as he wiped away dried tear tracks from the unconscious man’s cheeks.

Spots of dirt remained even as he swiped a damp cloth over his face - freckles, he realised, now that the stranger’s face was cleaned up. There were strange ink markings on his upper left bicep that Shen Jiu could not decipher.

It had taken several rounds of steady qi transferring and meridian cleansing to stem the blood flow from the gaping hole. There was nothing Shen Jiu could do for the damaged organs, but the fire seemed to be helping on that end.

Daylight broke. Shen Jiu had been so consumed by the stranger’s condition that he had barely made a dent in marking his disciples' essays. Ah well, he thought with a slight grimace, those fools could do with another full-day lesson of playing the guqin.

Shen Jiu had been quietly brewing some tea when he sensed movement from the side room, where he had left the man to rest. It had only been three days since the man first appeared. Had he already regained consciousness?

The man was struggling to sit up from the bedding on the floor when Shen Jiu entered. Their eyes met and the man hacked and coughed as he attempted to speak through his dry throat. Hiding his distaste behind the elegant curve of his bamboo folding fan, Shen Jiu knelt beside him and offered him a cup of tea. The man knocked it back with a single gulp, ​​not even pausing to savour it.

A waste of good tea, Shen Jiu thought snidely.

The cultivator’s gaze remained impassive as he observed the man’s appearance - still pale, but not as deathly pallid as before. Freckles, now more prominent in the daylight, dotted his cheeks and well-muscled upper body - at least the parts that weren’t covered by bandages. He seemed to be recovering well.

Thump.

Shen Jiu’s gaze dropped to the ground, where the man had placed his hand. His eyes followed the line of his arm upward, eventually resting on the man’s face as he sat up fully.

"Shiiit... You’re pretty. You an angel?" The man slurred, leaning heavily on his palm. His dazed, stormy eyes locked onto Shen Jiu’s viridian orbs. "Am I in heaven?"

Instantly losing his composure, Shen Jiu reflexively smacked his fan onto the man’s face to push him away, promptly knocking him unconscious and spilling tea all over the floor. His heart pounded wildly, though he masked the panic with a sneer, curling his lips as if the mess was beneath him.

“Fuck,” he snapped, the crass-talking former slave in him clawing its way to the surface. “Serves you right for coming so close, pervert.”

A moment passed. At the lack of response, the sneer on his face faltered as his eyes darted to the unconscious man sprawled on the bedding. He grimaced, the edge of his fan tapping nervously against his palm. “Tch, don’t die on me, idiot,” he muttered under his breath, crouching stiffly to check if the fool was still breathing.

Fortunately, his knee-jerk reaction didn’t completely kill off his patient. A quarter of an incense stick later, and the man was already beginning to stir awake once more.

(I did it.)

(Look, Qi-ge.)

(I saved someone!)

His name was Ace. 

How odd. The name felt awkward on his tongue as he tried to repeat it. “Ace?”

The man chuckled, “Yep, you got it! And who did you say you were again?”

“Shen Qingqiu, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Qing Jing Peak Lord.”

“... Okay, that’s a mouthful, oh great-and-mighty lord, sir,” Ace rolled his eyes. “And what exactly should I call my dear benefactor?”

“Shen Qingqiu is my given name.”

“Chinchew, got it!”

“No, you did not ‘get it’. Qing. Qiu.” Shen Jiu stressed, frustration creeping in.

After several rounds of this, Ace had begun to mirror his expressions studiously, lips furiously pursed in concentration as he tried to get the pronunciation right. Truly, Shen Jiu was surrounded by idiots. “Forget it. You don’t have to call me anything.” 

“Ehhh…” Shen Jiu decisively turned away from Ace’s disappointed moue and focused his efforts on clearing away the plates. He had been feeding his… patient, let’s call him that, and they had come to a silent, mutual agreement to avoid the elephants in the room. Namely: what exactly had happened to Ace, why was he here, and what was going to happen now?

Based on his lacklustre response at the mention of the illustrious Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, Ace was clearly not from around here. And as much as he would have liked to interrogate his patient, the man was obviously trying to avoid it, full of overly cheerful smiles and casual banter.

But Shen Jiu could see right through his mask of faux cheerfulness. He was no stranger to wearing such a mask himself, having perfected it in front of the Qiu family all those years ago. 

A sticky-sweet voice. “Xiao Jiu.”

Damn it, he hadn’t wanted to recall those terrible memories-

“- can I have thirds?”

Shen Jiu was momentarily stunned. “What do you mean ‘thirds’? You already had ‘seconds’ and I’ve barely touched my share. And,” he shot a laser glare at Ace, who snapped his mouth shut instantly, “Need I remind you, this is my food.”

“I… eat a lot?” At Shen Jiu’s deadpan stare, Ace began to throw a mini tantrum. Well, as much as he could while he was lying unmoving on a bedspread. “Oh c’mon, I’m a guest, aren’t I?”

—

“Luo-shidi!” A female disciple in green Qing Jing peak robes eagerly dashed toward the shorter boy, nearly running him over.

“Ning-shijie?”

“Shizun just asked me to bring over more servings! More! Servings! I wonder what’s got his appetite so riled up all of a sudden? Anyway, this is your chance, shidi!” Ning Yingying’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Chance?”

“Exactly! Your chance to win over Shizun’s heart through his stomach with your cooking!”

[hello-anchan]

Open Letter to Al-Baghdadi

To anyone who think ISIS represents Islam PLEASE READ and join hundreds of Muslim leaders and Scholars worldwide in their Open Letter to Baghdadi.

It is a 23 page PDF (English translation) on why ISIS and their actions do not represent Islam.

The PDF is also translated into German, Spanish, Bosnian, Hungarian, Dutch, Turkish, Persian, French and Arabic.

Now is a really important time for people to be educated on this situation before their miseducation/lack of education causes extremism and Islamophobia.

[hello-anchan]

[hello-anchan]

Tips That Can Save Your Kid’s Life.

[hello-anchan]

Lmao so i subscribe to dictionary.com and I'll get emailed a new word everyday Who knew there was a noun for aesthetics 😂 I'm officially an aesthete guys