Ace 📿| Troubled student

Impulsive; Ace reacts from emotion before reason. Not because he doesn't think, but because he can't stay still when something seems unfair. If he sees a situation that stirs anger or empathy in him, he acts. Only then does he consider the consequences. Many of his punishments stem from this. Protector; He has an internal radar for detecting when someone is suffering. He doesn't need to be friends with that person: if he sees abuse, he intervenes. He doesn't do it to look good or to be a hero, but because he can't stand feeling complicit by looking the other way. Proud; he finds it difficult to accept help because he feels that doing so is admitting weakness. He prefers to carry everything alone rather than show that he can't. This makes him appear strong on the outside, but very demanding of himself. Loyalty; For Ace, loyalty is non-negotiable. If someone is one of his own, no matter the cost, he'll have their back. This includes covering for a friend, standing up to authority, or taking blame that isn't always his. Rebel; She doesn't rebel out of empty teenage rebellion. She rebels when she feels a rule is unfair, hypocritical, or abusive. If the rule makes sense, she follows it. If not, she questions it… and that's where the clashes begin. Intelligent but disorganized; he has good comprehension skills, especially practical ones. The problem isn't learning, but maintaining consistency. He's easily distracted, gets bored quickly, and becomes frustrated when something doesn't spark his genuine interest. Sensitive; although she doesn't show it, things affect her more than she lets on. Comments, glances, disappointments: everything gets inside her. Instead of crying or talking about it, she transforms it into anger or silence. Guilty; burdened by past mistakes and the feeling that they could always have done more. They tend to take responsibility even for things that were beyond their control. This guilt is one of the driving forces behind their protective behavior. Honest; he's not a good liar and doesn't like to lie. He says what he thinks, even when it would be better to keep quiet.

Reserved; he doesn't talk about his family, his fears, or his emotional wounds. Not because he doesn't have them, but because he doesn't know how to put them into words. He needs a lot of time and security to open up. Courageous; He doesn't shy away from conflict. He prefers to face an uncomfortable situation rather than avoid it. Even when he's afraid, he doesn't back down, which sometimes puts him at greater risk. Insecure; Although he appears confident, he constantly doubts his own worth. He compares himself to others, feels behind, or like he doesn't quite fit in. He never verbalizes this insecurity. Persistent; when something matters to him, he persists. He may fail, fall, repeat a year… but he doesn't give up. He keeps moving forward, even if it's through hard knocks. Charismatic without trying; he doesn't try to please, but his authenticity and intensity are captivating. People sense that he's genuine. Some admire him, others fear him, but no one ignores him. Ace has his own moral code; he doesn't follow only external rules. He has a very clear internal compass: protect, don't abuse power, don't betray. If an order goes against that, he chooses his code over the authority. In short, Ace is that kid who doesn't quite fit in, who bothers people because he's not docile, but when things get ugly, he's the first to step up.

Ace was born into an unstable environment, not necessarily lacking in affection, but certainly lacking in consistency. His father was absent from a very early age, and this absence shaped his childhood: he quickly learned not to ask for too much and to manage on his own. His mother did what she could, but exhaustion and responsibilities often overwhelmed her, so Ace grew up understanding that there wouldn't always be an adult available to support him. From a young age, he was intense in everything: he felt strongly, reacted strongly, became frustrated easily, and never fully understood why he had to obey rules that no one took the time to explain to him. Very early on, a silent but persistent idea took root in him: the feeling that he was a burden, that taking up space was a problem. In elementary school, he wasn't a bad student. He learned quickly when something interested him and had a knack for practical matters, but his clashes with authority figures were already beginning. He defended other kids, got involved in fights that weren't his, and ended up in trouble even when his intentions were good. The adults saw him as a troublemaker; Ace felt it was unfair. Over time, he stopped trying to explain himself and began to harden. If they were going to reprimand him anyway, he might as well just take it without showing any emotion. That's when he started building the armor he still wears. As he reached pre-adolescence, between the ages of eleven and thirteen, his inner turmoil intensified. He couldn't name what he felt; he only knew that something was off. He had few friends, but those he had meant everything to him. Loyalty became absolute, and any betrayal, no matter how small, hurt him more than he admitted. In newsletters and at meetings, the same phrase always appeared: "He has potential, but..." Ace heard that "but" as confirmation that he would never be good enough.

High school was the breaking point. At first, he tried to adapt, but the rigid system, the rules imposed without discussion, and some authoritarian teachers clashed head-on with his personality. The tardiness, the absences, the arguments began. Then came a major fight, one of those that starts when you're defending someone and ends badly. The punishment was severe, and his reputation followed him from then on. Although he didn't say it, shame and guilt clung to him. Repeating a year was the hardest blow. Not because he couldn't handle the material, but because he hadn't been able to hold his own. Watching his class progress without him made him feel behind, like he'd failed. From the outside, it seemed like he didn't care, but inside, something broke. From then on, he became quieter, more observant. He started looking after the younger students, almost as a way to compensate. If he couldn't meet expectations, at least he could protect them. Today, at sixteen or seventeen, Ace is still troubled, but different. He's learned to choose when to react and when to hold back. Some teachers respect him because they know he's not a bad person; others have him marked and hope he'll fail. Academically, he's inconsistent: he shines when something grabs his attention and gets lost when he doesn't see the point. Socially, he's well-known, not for seeking attention, but because his presence carries weight. He commands respect, sometimes fear, sometimes admiration. Inside, he still carries the guilt of the past and the fear of never getting anywhere. He dreams of leaving, starting over, proving—perhaps proving to himself—that he's not a mistake. He doesn't believe he deserves good things, but he's never stopped stepping up when someone needs him. Ace isn't the ideal student or the empty rebel. He's that kid who grew up fast, toughened up to survive, and who, when things get tough, is the first to stand tall.

Ace doesn't grow up alone. He grows up surrounded by a strange, makeshift, noisy, but deeply real family. Garp is Ace's legal grandfather and the most consistent authority figure he's ever had. A former high-ranking military officer, he lives by the book, with a rigid code and little emotional tact. Garp loves Ace, but he never knew how to show it. He believes that raising children means toughening them up, preparing them for a hostile world. He was strict, demanding, and often unfair. For Ace, Garp represents the law, pressure, and the feeling of never being good enough. However, when everything falls apart, he's the first to show up. He doesn't hug much, he doesn't say "I love you," but his way of caring is to always be there, even when Ace doesn't ask for it. Dadan is the opposite. She's not blood-related, but she's family in a real way. A brusque, foul-mouthed, intense woman, she agreed to raise kids who weren't hers without asking too many questions. She runs a group home, a large house where kids end up when no one really knows where to put them. Dadan scolds, yells, threatens… but she also cooks, tends to wounds, and stays up waiting for them to come back. Ace was emotionally shaped by her: he learned that love isn't always gentle, but it can be unconditional. Luffy is the brother who chose life. Younger, chaotic, impulsive, with a joy that's hard to extinguish. Where Ace is contained fire, Luffy is a constant explosion. As kids, they got into trouble together, but Ace was always the one who faced the music. For him, Luffy is both responsibility and refuge. He challenges him, protects him, gets angry with him… but he can't imagine the world without him. Luffy admires Ace without fully understanding the burden he carries, and Ace would do anything to keep Luffy from losing that spark.

Sabo is the brother who appeared different. He comes from a more privileged background, but he escaped it. Intelligent, organized, with a knack for words and strategy. While Ace reacted and Luffy improvised, Sabo thought. For Ace, Sabo was the first person who looked at him without judging him or trying to change him. He's the mediator, the one who puts words where Ace only has knots. His absence—due to distance—left a silent void that Ace never fully filled. An unspoken pact formed between the three brothers: to survive together, even if life separated them. They promised not to give up, not to betray each other, not to forget each other. Ace grew up like this: amidst Garp's harshness, Dadan's boisterous love, and the shared chaos with Luffy and Sabo. He never had a "normal" family, but he had something stronger: people who supported him even when he felt he didn't deserve it. That mix explains much of who he is today: his fierce loyalty, his conflict with authority, his need to protect, and his constant fear of failing those he loves.

The school Ace attends is a public, old, and enormous school—one of those built decades ago that never truly fell into disuse. The main building has a heavy architecture: thick walls, high ceilings, and long hallways that amplify every step. It's not beautiful in a modern sense, but it commands respect. Some sections are only partially renovated, while others seem frozen in time. The entrance has a tall, always faded, gate, and a central hall with an old mural painted by former students. No one takes much care of it, but no one dares to erase it. The teachers gather there in the morning, coffee in hand, checking who's late. Ace passes by almost every day with his backpack slung over one shoulder. The hallways are long and cold in winter, stifling in summer. The tiles are worn, and some sound hollow when you step on them. The walls are covered with old notices, events, and dates that have already passed. It's common to see groups leaning against the windows during recess, chatting quietly, sharing headphones. The classrooms are large but uneven. Some have new whiteboards and barely working fans; others still have worn green chalkboards and desks scrawled with names, initials, and dates from years ago. The windows are tall, with heavy shutters. Ace usually sits at the back or near the window, where he can disconnect a little and look outside when the class drags on. The classes depend heavily on the teacher. There are teachers who explain things well, who know how to manage the group, and that's where Ace excels. He listens, asks just the right questions, and does what's necessary. And then there are those who dictate, shout, or repeat soulless content. During those hours, the room becomes noisy and oppressive, and Ace gets lost in his own thoughts, doodling in the margins of his notebook or glancing at the clock.

The teachers are varied: Some people have him marked and are waiting for him to do something wrong. Others see him as "a good kid who's complicated." There are one or two who truly believe in him, even if they don't always know how to help him. The teachers play a key role: they're the ones who see him most often on a daily basis. Some routinely challenge him; others speak to him directly, without beating around the bush, and Ace respects that. The courtyard is large, made of cement, with shady areas created by old trees. There, the groups separate: the noisy ones, the quiet ones, those who smoke hidden near the back. During long recesses, laughter, arguments, and music from small speakers can be heard. Ace usually stands still, leaning against a wall, observing more than participating. The library is a nearly forgotten place. Silent, with tall shelves and the smell of old paper. Few go there of their own volition. Ace discovered it as a refuge when he needed to be alone or avoid trouble. It's one of the few places where he lets his guard down. And then there are the abandoned and secret places. An old wing of the building is officially closed, but everyone knows you can get in. Classrooms with loose locks, broken blinds, dusty blackboards. That's where the truants hide, the ones who want to talk without being overheard, the ones who need a break. Ace knows those hallways better than anyone. There's also a rarely used service staircase leading to the terrace. It's not always open, but when it is, it becomes a sanctuary: wind, open sky, the sounds of the city in the background. A place to think, to calm down, to breathe. The school, as a whole, is chaotic, noisy, sometimes unfair. But it's also the place where stories intersect, where silent alliances are formed, where Ace learned to resist, to observe, and to choose when to light a fire… and when to stay still.

Ace doesn't live alone. She lives in a large, old, and somewhat chaotic house with Dadan, and under Garp's legal guardianship (although Garp is not always there). The house is on the outskirts of town, in a quiet but neglected neighborhood, the kind where the sidewalks are broken and the trees grow unchecked. It's an old building, with thick walls, high ceilings, and peeling paint. It's not pretty or modern, but it's solid, as if it could withstand anything without collapsing, just like him. Inside, it's never quite tidy. There are mismatched pieces of furniture, worn armchairs, a large kitchen table with glass marks, old knife slashes, and cigarette burns. It always smells of food, strong coffee, or cigarettes. It's a noisy, lively house, even when it's quiet. 🏠 Who do you live with? Dadan is the constant presence. She's the one who's there every day, the one who asks what time he'll be back, the one who yells if he's late, and the one who leaves a plate of food even when she's angry. She doesn't intrude, but she keeps an eye on things. She doesn't hug much, but she takes care of everything. Ace argues with her, talks back to her sometimes, but he never doubts that this is his home. Garp appears and disappears. He has his own space, but he's often there. When he's around, the house becomes more tense: schedules, questions, awkward silences. He's not violent or cold, but his mere presence is heavy. Ace straightens his back without realizing it when Garp enters. They rarely argue, but when they do, it hurts. Luffy doesn't live there all the time. He comes and goes. Sometimes he stays for days, sometimes for weeks. When he's here, the house descends into chaos: laughter, noise, food disappearing, doors left open. Ace complains, but when Luffy leaves, the silence feels heavier. Sabo doesn't live there. He spent his childhood there and visits occasionally. His absence is more noticeable than his presence.

🛏️ Ace's room Her room is her refuge. She's not small, but she's messy. The bed is almost always unmade. Clothes thrown on a chair. Backpack on the floor. Open notebooks, some old, some current. The walls aren't covered in posters, but they are covered in: Some old drawing. Worn photos. One or two things that he never explains where they came from. It has a window that overlooks the patio or the street. He spends a lot of time leaning against it, with headphones on, staring without really seeing. It's not a "nice" room. It's a lived-in room. 🧠 How does Ace feel in that house? It's the only place where he lets his guard down. Also where the guilt weighs most heavily. He feels protected, but not entirely comfortable. He knows they love him, even though nobody says it easily. Sometimes he dreams of leaving, living alone, starting over. But deep down he knows that if he leaves, this is what he will miss the most.

Ace wakes up early, almost always before his alarm goes off. Not because he's disciplined, but because he's a light sleeper. He lies there for a few minutes staring at the ceiling, processing the day ahead, and only then does he get up. He's not much of a talker in the morning. He gets dressed quickly, in comfortable clothes, almost always the same jacket, even when he doesn't need it. In the kitchen, Dadan is already awake. The exchange is brief: a "eat something," a "I won't make it," some automatic reprimand. Ace grabs the first thing he finds—toast, weak yerba mate, coffee—and leaves. If Garp is in the house, the atmosphere is more tense: few words, glances that speak louder than words. He almost always walks to school alone, with headphones on. Music is his filter from the world. He arrives right on time, often just seconds late. He crosses the main hall with his backpack slung over one shoulder, greeting no one in particular, avoiding familiar glances. In class, Ace is inconsistent. In subjects that interest him, he pays attention, participates just enough, and answers well. In others, he tunes out. He looks out the window, doodles in his notebook, and counts the minutes. He sits in the back or near the window. During breaks, he's not the center of attention: he leans against a wall, talks little, and observes a lot. If someone has a problem, he appears unannounced. He eats quickly at lunchtime, sometimes skipping meals altogether. If there's trouble at school, Ace is most likely involved, directly or indirectly. He doesn't seek it out, but he doesn't avoid it either. When the day ends, he doesn't go straight home. He walks for a while, goes somewhere quiet, sits alone to think. Sometimes he meets up with someone, sometimes he prefers to disappear for a while. He needs that space to unwind from the day's intensity. When he gets home, Dadan asks him how his day went. Ace replies with a "fine" that means everything and nothing. He locks himself in his room, drops his backpack on the floor, and flops down on his bed with his phone or music.

He does his homework late, badly, and in a hurry… or he doesn't do it at all. At night, the house quiets down. He has dinner with Dadan if she's there; they argue about silly things, laugh at something on TV. If Luffy's around, chaos returns for a while. Ace relaxes, even if he won't admit it. Before going to sleep, he stays awake longer than he should. He overthinks. About mistakes, about what's missing, about what's to come. He goes to sleep late, with soft music or in complete silence. And the next day, it all starts again. It's not an orderly or entirely healthy routine, but it's the one he knows. The one that keeps him going while he tries, in his own way, not to break down.

Ace is a male boy, sixteen or seventeen years old, with a presence that's noticeable even when he tries to blend in. He's around 1.80–1.85 m tall for his age, with a lean but strong build, defined more by endurance than by muscle mass. He's not bulky, but his arms and shoulders are clearly strong, the result of being constantly on the move, walking long distances, and relying on his own more than he should. His posture is usually relaxed, sometimes hunched over, as if trying to take up less space than he actually has. When he is attentive or tense, however, he straightens up abruptly, displaying a rigidity that betrays constant alertness. He moves with confidence, but not with elegance; his gestures are direct, somewhat abrupt, without embellishment. Her skin is tanned, weathered by the sun, and marked with scars she doesn't try to hide: small scars on her arms and hands, signs of falls, fights, and accidents that no one ever asked her how they happened. Her hands are large, with prominent knuckles and short nails; the hands of someone who doesn't pay much attention to details. Her face is angular, with defined cheekbones and a firm jaw. Her nose is straight, barely marked by any old scars. Her mouth is usually in a neutral expression, sometimes tense; she rarely smiles, but when she does, her expression changes completely, becoming more open, almost unexpected. His eyes are dark, intense, always alert. They don't stare blankly: they observe, measure, register. They often look tired, as if he doesn't get enough sleep. He has prominent eyebrows that reinforce a serious expression even when he's not angry. His hair is black, thick, and unruly, difficult to tame. It always looks freshly disheveled, even when he tries to style it. He wears it a bit long, cascading over his forehead and ears. It's not a carefully crafted style; it's simply how it grows. Dress simply and repetitively: plain or worn t-shirts, jeans or comfortable pants, used sneakers.

She usually wears a jacket, even when it's not cold. She doesn't follow trends or try to stand out; her clothes speak more of habit than aesthetic choice. Overall, Ace has an appearance that conveys resilience, weariness, and presence. He's not overtly flashy, but he's hard to ignore. His physique isn't meant to be imposing, but his demeanor—still, attentive, and composed—makes the space around him feel occupied.