Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Our responsibility begins with the power to imagine.”

I think it is time for me to change. It is scary. I am scared. I hope you understand. I imagine myself being free. For once I think this means without running to the skys   skies. I do not know how long this will take. I do not know if I will reech reach the end. I know that I need to start some where. That some where is here with my own power to imagine my own freedom.

Chapter Text

You were a fighter. Always have been. Always will be. 

For Whitebeard you were hell on earth. 

The Whitebeard Pirates were your family and when you’re the only daughter on the ship you could feel how worried everyone got. You were strong, they knew this, you knew it too. You liked making sure they all knew this whenever you got the chance to roam free for a couple hours. You didn’t like having to ask permission when literally anyone else could just go– especially Marco. He was like a walking sign of freedom that mocked you at every turn. Even when the crew was docked on an island you were to be with someone. There truly was no escape when Whitebeard wanted to keep you landlocked. Countless hours were spent kicking the wall of your room that you decided to just not fix it anymore. Over time it slowly got bigger and bigger. Ace had commented on it the one evening not too long ago and after that you shooed him out of your room for better company. 

“If you’re not going to at least try and sway pops’ mind then you can get out.” You said stubbornly, arms crossed and a pout on your lips. For being an adult this life really made you think otherwise. They treated you like a child. It was fucking stupid. 

It wasn’t always this way, but after a certain incident a few years ago Pops had decided that it was best if you had limited access to the open seas and air. At first you didn’t mind, but after about six months being boat bound you started to actually get annoyed. When enemy ships came cruising into Whitebeard's domain you were always to be at Whitebeard's side and if you weren’t you were under the care of one of his many commanders. Izou being your favourite. Marco being your least.

You liked Marco, don’t kid yourself. But maybe for reasons you were unwilling to accept. Seas be damned, he was nearly 20 years older than you…

For this you blamed pops for having him stick you with Marco for most of your battle career. He was a doctor, but he was also number one under the captain. Why wouldn’t Whitebeard trust his only son to his only daughter. Not that you were actually related in any way, shape, or form. This too you also blamed pops. Having a crush on anyone aboard spelt weirdness on a whole other level. 

On another note, you also thought that your secret hate-love relationship with the phoenix of the Whitebeard Pirates was because you lacked a steady relationship with a male figure– maybe even a brother-figure? This was a can of worms though you really didn’t want to get into. You knew Pops tried but he wasn’t really your father and though the crew may try they weren’t really your brothers. All just strangers who happen to fight together under one banner.

And maybe this is where you went wrong. Cause this was all you knew, all that you wanted to accept. Anything before and anything after wasn’t in the equation, not if you were still alive and breathing. So why couldn’t they be considered some form of found family— a found family that has some weird relationships… nope, you’re not going there.

Aside from your crumbling morals on family relations you also knew why Whitebeard placed you with Marco. You two were one in the same. Birds. Or bird people? People who had powers that were bird-like. You, in an unfortunate turn of events were forced to choke down the tori tori no mi model eagle devil fruit. You were an aerial asset… an asset who was boat bound when enemy ships came charging into your territory.

“With me child.” Whitebeard would command with haki so strong you couldn’t deny his command.

“Let me fight!” You would argue incessantly as the rest of the crew destroyed ship after ship.

“You will stay by my side.” He would push back, haki not as strong but eyes so hard that you knew not to push further. 

A deeper part of you actually liked being held close on such familial terms– to know that someone was willing to do so much to keep you protected. It was nice, it was safe, but it was also a cage. A cage when you wanted to be free high above the clouds doing more than just ‘keeping a watch’ on silent waters.

Few, brief, and far inbetween were the times when pops would allow you to actually leave the ship unattended. You loved these moments and you wished you had the ability to just ignore commands. Yet, the electric sting of haki commands kept you flying back to deck when dusk had washed hues of purples and oranges through the sky.

To make sure pops and every other commander on the ship knew you were pissed, you would let your haki rumble across the ship. Unnoticeable until the early morning when everyone would wake up with headaches that could rival the evil of blackbeard. Groans and grumbles would echo through the galley at breakfast as you skipped across the room a small smile on your lips before plopping down at the table beside whitebeard. He would look down at you and scowl. You however, would just cross your arms and stick your tongue out.

You had been doing this more recently as of late because you were actually about to implode if you didn’t let your devil fruit fight. It was strange. You weren’t actually aware that devil fruit had minds of their own, and yours? It was begging to be set free for once in its life.

“Come on dad!” you urged as you bounced up and down on your toes. This devil fruit awareness thing was actually eating away at you and you were about to scream if pops didn’t let you off of the Moby. 

“My child–” Pops started before correcting himself “My daughter,” he sat on his throne overlooking the main deck as the crew worked diligently around him. Marco was off somewhere, probably doing papers, while Izou was tanning at the front of the ship. You had talked to him prior to coming to pops. It was nothing important but he had mentioned that as of late you were feeling more antsy than usual. “I don’t want you flying around recklessly.” pops argued as he looked down at you with a pointed look.

“I’m not reckless, but I will be if I don’t get off this ship. Even Izou has been noticing that I'm not myself as of late. Ask him yourself!” You argued back, a small whine escaping your lips. You were pulling all the tactics out on this argument here. Big sad eyes, pouting lips, even a single tear welling in your left eye.

“Please, please, please! I’ll be safe. I promise.” You pushed as you walked up to his hand and laid your head on it. You looked up at him and felt his haki radiating off of him in low slow pulses. It was calming… he was trying to calm you. Well shit.

“You know well enough what I'm capable of, yet you keep insisting on keeping me aboard this ship. It's not fun anymore. I want to be up there.” you said more pointedly this time. There was anger simmering below your skin at his persistence at keeping you calm and on board the ship. Pushing the anger aside you pointed to the sky where fluffy clouds danced with the wind. 

Whitebeard looked at you long and hard, his mind whirling with worries and doubts about letting you go free. It had been a long three months on the ship.

“Please don’t keep me caged down here.” you added on. You deliberately used the word ‘caged’ cause you knew the history behind it. A history that was destroyed when you joined the crew.

With this a sigh escaped from your fathers lips and his eyes softened. He placed a large hand on top of your head and ruffled the strands of hair. You were tempted to swat away his hand but decided to embrace the affection for a little while. The warmth was nice but a small ache in your back called you back to reality. 

“Please, I want to go…” you said softly as you stepped back from him. “Without an escort.” You added on as an extra precaution.

“Fine. Go” He said quickly as if afraid of going back on his word. “Come back by dawn.” He added on as an extra precaution, the haki rippling through your chest. Fucking commands.

Without another word you sprinted to the side of the deck and to the railing. The devil fruit whirled within you as you steadied yourself on top of the railing that kept you from the sea's call. You looked back as wings unfurled from your back, you nodded to pops letting him know with a small pulse of haki that you would undoubtedly be safe while away. You felt bad for a brief moment as you knew your plans were going to send this man into cardiac arrest but you needed to appease the strange feeling in your chest. 

The strong wings on your back lifted you into the air with one strong stroke leaving the ship rocking back and forth at sea. Before you knew it you were above the clouds with rays of light cascading down and around you. This was freedom. 

You flew higher and higher. You flew as high as you could before you stopped and looked down at the sparkling blue sea below you. You could still see a small speck on the sea and knew that whitebeard was still looking at you. Smiling, you flew out into the horizon. You were going to leave for a short while. Just a short while. You would be back before another marine ship even came close to the Moby.

The devil fruit's antsy behaviour subsided enough for you to truly enjoy the open air that whipped past your body. Yelling in triumph you fly above, through and around the fluffy clouds enjoying the feeling coursing through your body. The thrill of flying always sends you into a state of ecstasy that nothing ever even reached close to. 

The crew on the Moby got their legs under them once more when you had left. Whitebeard shook his head and sighed once more. You were going to be the death of him. 

“Maybe it’s time for the child to catch the air.” Whitebeard grumbled as he adjusted himself in his seat.

Izou walked up to pops with a curt smile– he had heard the tail end of the exchange. 

“So how did it go?” He asked as he followed your trajectory in the air. You were fast and slowly fading into the distance.

“As well as it could have gone, my son.” Whitebeard replied.

“I see, well, I think it would be good to allow them more time on the open waters. Maybe even fighting in battles. They have been training with the commanders for more than half a decade now.” Izou straightened his yukata. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Your words replayed in his mind. He didn’t want to keep you on the boat but you were reckless at the best of times and damn near suicidal at the worst. The first incident was too much for him to handle, and for you to use that word made his heart ache more. He couldn’t blame you though. He could feel that something wasn’t right. The increased haki headaches, a temper set like a ticking time bomb, and the looks you gave to the sky when you thought no one was looking. 

Even though whitebeard had given his word to you he couldn’t help the swelling fear in his chest. The scowl on his face deepened as he saw you nowhere in sight in the sky. Even your Haki had gone weaker than usual.

“Marco, come here.” He commanded, an electrifying ripple washing across the Moby. Within a few moments Marco the Phoenix appeared in front of his captain.

“What is it pops-yoi?” His tired eyes watched carefully. He saw lines of worry on pop's face and wondered what happened. He felt you take off not moments ago and knew pops had given in to your attempts to escape the ship. 

Marco knew how you were, always wanting to be somewhere you shouldn’t be and always trying to weasel your way off of the ship. He remembered you trying to escape the Moby Dick more times than he would care to admit.  

“I want you to follow them.” He said. Marco knew you wouldn’t like this, not one bit. If anything he actually hated that pops would ask this of him. It was always stay by your side or keep you from leaving the ship and suffer a killer headache the next morning.

“Do you want them to hate you-yoi?” Marco said as he folded his arms across his chest.

Whitebeard was silent for a time.

“I’d rather have them hate me than let them get hurt.”

Izou was actually disappointed by the outcome of this. Whitebeard was actually going back on his promise to you.

You were going to be furious.

Marco shook his head in disagreement but soon was off in your direction. Your haki was faint, the wind carrying it away, yet it was enough for Marco to track you.

Chapter Text

The warmth of the sun kept you from freezing at such high altitudes, not to mention your devil fruit ability also helped as well. It seemed content in expending the extra energy it needed to keep you warm. You smiled at the thought but when your stomach growled in protest you started to look for any surface dwelling animals that could be an easy catch. You weren’t quite sure how you would cook it without a fire but its not like you weren’t used to eating raw meats. 

You shuddered at the thought of the tender and metallic taste of raw meats you had eaten in your past. 

“Thank the seas for Thatch’s cooking…” you drawled as you flew higher up into the sky. The feeling of ecstasy had faded away and now you were just roaming aimlessly in the sky in a state of content. This wasn’t what you wanted. Once you reached a peak far above the clouds your wings disappeared into oblivion and you began to free fall. This was always a thrill, at times you tried to see how far you could fall before your body hit the water. It made your blood pump and chest feel weightless. If you had to rank it, it would surely take third place in things that filled you with ecstasy. You had yet to fail in saving yourself from actually hitting the water. Although, you weren’t going to lie, you often wondered what it would feel like if you hit the water going really fast, sure it would hurt, but like how much? You wondered if you would even feel it. You knew you would die, but dying wasn’t really on your list of things to do at the moment. You just wanted to be free, to be free and to— nope. Not going there. 

You had been falling for a while now and you decided to roll onto your stomach and prepare to catch yourself. When you turned around you saw a bird flying through the air, smirking. You summoned our wings and tucked them in close to your back, never failing in gaining speed. You would catch it mid-air and kill it on impact. The speed at which you reached was more than fast enough to give the poor bird a quick death. Your stomach growled once more as you targeted the blue and black bird. As you got closer to the animal though you realized that it was much larger than you anticipated it. Spreading apart your wings you slowed your descent and flew past the bird. 

The bird that was flying close to the surface of the water caught your eye and you realized that this wasn’t any normal bird. It opened its mouth and presented its large gnarly teeth, sharp and ready to eat anything that got in its way.

“Fuck you gotta be kidding me!” You whined as you turned sharply away from the predator. You focused on evading the bird as it chased after you. You knew how to fight but you were also a shitting tactician and a far worse one when it came to surprise attacks. As you skimmed the ocean surface you tried to focus on the best course of action. The dive bomb attempt wouldn’t work on a beast that large… but maybe it would stun it enough to buy you some time. You looked behind you and saw that this beast was catching up to you rather quickly.

“Y’know for something so large you shouldn’t be able to fly this fast!” You yelled back, you were actually annoyed more than anything. Though a thought lingered in the back of your head thanking the bird for putting a little extra escapade into your escape attempt. As you pivoted in the air sharply upwards you climbed and climbed and climbed. LOoking down you saw that the beast was following after you.

“Alright you fucking bastard, i’m getting out of here.” You said as you tucked your wings tightly to your body and you descended on the bird. The rate at which you were falling was slowly quickening. Before making impact with the bird you rolled forwards increasing your momentum before stopping and colliding with the face of the beast with your two legs. A crunch was heard and the beast roared in pain as it turned away from you and descended towards the surface of the water once more.

A throbbing pain rippled through your legs but the impact was strong enough to send the bird off for a short while. Using this moment you ascended back into the air high above the clouds. Releasing a sigh of relief you continued at a break-neck pace away from the beast before it had time to catch up to you. 

“Fuck the New World, shit sucks.” You mumbled as you came to a glide, catching a drift of wind. The sun had begun to set. Sending out a wave of haki you didn’t feel anything around you and so you decided that the bird didn’t want to chase after you. Although there was something else, far off in the distance. It was too weak to even decipher if it was a threat. 

You knew pops was going to have your head for not coming back this evening, but those three long months spent locked on the Moby was torture. You hoped that pops would understand.

Spotting an island in the distance you decided that there would be a good enough spot to rest for a short while. You would still continue on once you got a bite to eat. Your stomach was growling non-stop, even your devil fruit was growing impatient.

As the sun lay on the horizon you descended to the small island with a thud sending debris scattering around you. 

Birds and the wind sang their evening songs as you wandered into the forest line. You let out short bursts of haki around you trying to locate any animal big enough to satiate you growing hunger. There was nothing. Continuing deeper into the forest you finally were able to pick up on something that was fairly large. You increased the waves of haki you released to get a better idea as to where it was and crept across the island hunting it.

When you came to a waterpool with a waterfall you stopped using your Haki and hummed. You decided that you would also take a bath before you left. Fighting the beast-bird from before had worked up a sweat. A rustle in the foliage of the forest line caught your attention. You silenced your haki completely and turned your head trying to spot where the sound had come from. Another rustle to your right, much closer this time. You didn’t have any weapons on you, but fighting with Jozu had allowed you to become proficient enough in hand to hand combat. Using armament haki you steeled your fists ready to fight anything that jumped out of the woods.

A cackle-like howl came from behind you this time. Turning around you tried to spot where the beast was but couldn’t see it with your eyes. Sending a short shock of haki in the general direction you hoped to flush it out and into the open. You knew well enough that observation haki in the New World only made fights more difficult. Beasts were too smart and if they felt observation haki they would continue to stalk their prey or just completely hide themselves. You knew that sending a command was much more efficient, it was like a challenge to fight.

Narrowing your eyes you focused your attention on the small sounds around you, trying to pick up on any patterns like walking, breathing, even a heartbeat. Your devil fruit powers awakened and provided you with keener ears and clearer vision.  

You steadied your own breath and after a moment of silence you heard the beast to your left. Its breathing was incredibly quiet but you heard it. You sent another, stronger, command in the direction of the beast and within seconds it pounced out from the tree line and bolted in your direction. It was fast, maybe a little too fast. You barely were able to dodge to your right when its large canines bite down. The beast skidded and turned around to look at you, its head held low and eyes glowing in the darkness of the shadows cast by the setting sun.

“Not my preferred dinner of choice, but you’ll do just fine I guess.” You noted nonchalantly. The beast was lean with short fur. It was a canine type but this one was larger and meaner than most other canine types on the Grand Line.

“They really do make you guys bigger and meaner in the New World, huh?” The beast only growled in disdain as it circled you. Its eyes were calculating, deciding which attack was best— nothing new, but still freaky considering you always thought that they were just dumb animals.

You hoped that the beast would pounce at you again, you would send a punch straight to its jaw in the process.

As if answering your desires the beast did pounce forwards but before you could get a punch in it had bitten down hard on your forearm. It was heavy and the sudden shift in weight made you stumble back and on your back. The beast shook its head violently back and forth trying to rip your arm from your body. Blood had spewed from your wounds and you bite down on a scream before taking your free hand and skewering it right into its exposed neck.

The jaw that held onto you went slack and a gurgled whine escaped the beast before it gave out on top of you. Dead eyes looking right at you. You shuddered. Using your strength you shoved the beast off of you and sat up. The wound on your arm was painful, you didn’t think of having the armament haki on your forearm— minor detail though. Inspecting the wound you were glad it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“Another one to join the rest…” You mumbled as a wave of indifference passed through you. You’d need to bandage it up before long unless you wanted to struggle with rotting flesh and infected wounds. Looking back at your kill you smirked knowing you finally had something for dinner. Not the best choice you thought but it was still food so you really couldn’t complain.

“Thank you Jozu for the meal!” You praised as you got up and dragged the beast to the edge of the water and began the cleaning process before grilling it and eating it. 

You wondered how long you wanted to stay away from the ship. You know you didn’t want to stay away forever, but your devil fruit still wasn’t pleased with the amount of air time you had gotten today despite everything that had happened.

Once the beast was clean of its hide and other non-essential parts you started a fire large enough to roast the entire thing.The forest had gotten quiet, nothing but the wind and distant ocean waves were present. As the food was cooking you took the time to actually take a look at the island and what it was like. Tall, thick trees surrounded the waterfall that pooled and carved its way to the open ocean. The open canopy above had let the shining of the moon come through and light up the little area. It looked almost magical. Little bugs soon came out and started lighting up the area, each communicating to each other by the way their lights dimmed in and out.

Macro had lost you for a short while. He cursed under his breath as he continued on the trajectory he last felt from you. You were always a pain in the ass at the best of times, but even he had to admit that this was something else. He just hoped that he could find you before dawn. 

Before he had left to follow you he got orders from Whitebeard to bring you back no matter what when dawn broke. He didn’t like having to force you home, but orders were orders and he wasn’t about to break his. 

As he was flying through the air he spotted a bird flying around aimlessly, something that wasn’t normal for aerial species. Flying closer he saw that part of its face was caved in from an attack.

“Really, couldn’t finish it off could you-yoi?” He muttered as he transformed into his half phoenix, half human form and disintegrated the bird in one attack.

“Damn brat-yoi.” Marco rolled his eyes, he truly was starting to sound like his father. It was well past dusk when he spotted an island, and felt a wave of your haki emit from it. 

A command? He thought as he descended from the sky and into a nearby tree in the middle of the forest. He made sure to keep his haki locked away, he didn’t want you to notice him. No a taunt… He rethought as he saw you near a pool of water with a waterfall. You had armament haki and a pointed look scanning the area. He decided to sit and wait for what you were going to do. He couldn’t see anything, but surely you were about to fight something since you were taunting it so recklessly. This island was unmarked, so he couldn’t really know what was on it, but considering its terrain and plant life it was a host to many canine-like beasts. 

He continued to watch carefully as you let out another taunt to the hidden beast, this time it came rushing from the forest line and attacked you. Marco would sit and watch you as you fought against it. It wasn’t long before you succeeded in killing the beast— rather aggressively, but he blamed Blenheim and Fossa for teaching you to always be more ruthless in a fight. You were just a hair shorter than he was and didn’t have the muscle strength to back you up, but considering he helped train you in both observation and armament haki he knew you had the ability to protect yourself, so long as you were careful… which he never saw happen a day in his life after you rejoined the crew. Smirking, he saw you shove the beast off of your body and look at the wound on your forearm. He scowled. He guessed he didn’t see that happen. He hoped that you would take care of it properly. You did learn how to heal yourself from him after all. 

Marco settled into the tree for a rest as it seemed this would be the place you would sleep for the evening. Once morning came he hoped that you would head home yourself. He didn’t particularly like the idea of having to force you home because he knew what it felt like to be free without a care in the world and he wanted to let you experience it too. But if you decided to disobey an order he couldn’t let you get away with it. 

Commands were commands.

Chapter Text

The meat you had cooked up was actually better than you thought it ought to be, you wondered what the beast's diet was like. It was probably the reason why it tasted so different. You let the fire simmer down to a soft flame, the beast completely gone. You looked over to the pool and waterfall and wondered if there were any nasty critters in there that wanted to eat your soul. Only the seas know what kinda creatures lay beyond the veil of water. You mulled over your options and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to at least give a look and see if anything was in there. The worst that could happen is you get eaten alive by a bottom feeder or whatever. 

You remembered the memory not too shortly after joining the crew. You had landed on an unmanned island with several hot springs. The only problem… the bugs. You shuddered at the memory. You hated bugs, and though now you could tolerate them you still didn’t want to try your luck with any of them. The worst are the kinds that thrive in waters… They hide at the bottom as maggots and when the time is right they break free and swarm the surrounding location. The squishy feeling— okay that’s enough. You shut your eyes and shuddered once more. You wanted to forget that experience ever happened. Thatch made sure you never lived that moment down though. He would always bring it up during dinners, and shortly after you would hit him in the shoulder leaving a sizable mark.

“Quit reminding everyone of that!” You yelled across the tables, eyes ablaze with annoyance.

“Come on, it’s a funny story!” He’d chime back.

“Okay, well at least I'm not banned from half of the New Worlds brothels.” You’d quip, a smug look on your face. 

“Oh come on, that's not fair…” He’d mumble as snickers echoed throughout the galley.

“Totally fair.” After some odd moments of silence Thatch would then proceed to chase you out of the galley screaming about never going to serve you food again– all lies, but the threat always lingered at the back of your head. A relic of memories destroyed long ago. 

Walking to the edge of the pool you chanced a look into the clear waters. It all looked fine enough from here, but to make sure, you did one of two things. You looked around for a sizable rock and threw it to the middle of the pool waiting a few moments before finding a stick, once you threw that followed by moments of silence you deemed it was an alright pool for bathing in. The rock would stir the bottom dwellers while the stick would lure anything else that preferred floaty things. It was an alright tactic, but it wasn’t fool proof. Though, right now you would take your chances fighting off a sea creature– a bug though, different story. In fact you were prepared to die if one of those massive maggots decided it wanted to munch on you. Taking off your clothes you decided to fuck it and take a quick bath to wash away the sweat and grime off of you. You made sure to pay special attention to the wound on your forearm. The teeth marks were deep but they wouldn’t need stitches, at least you didn’t think they would. You hoped that they’d close up on their own, or at least not cause you too much trouble.

Walking into the water the coolness of it sent shivers up your spine and goosebumps to run up your legs and down your arms.

“Fuck this is cold…” You mumbled as you walked further into the water. Once it was waist deep you decided to quickly submerge yourself. 

“Okay123go!” You said in one breath as you ducked under the veil of water, the shock of ice waking you up fully. Opening you eyes you noted that there wasn’t anything hidden in the water that was too smart for you, just regular fish and some other crustaceans. The tense feeling in your shoulders subsided as you broke back up to the surface for a breath of air. 

You made quick work of the bath, once you were feeling clean enough you walked out and put on your dry clothes and sat by the fire. You’d wait for a few minutes as you got warm before you headed off. Leaning against a boulder you looked up to the sky and watched the passing clouds lit by the moon and tried to point out stars. You spotted the guiding star that navigators used to keep on course easily enough. But you also were able to spot the Grand cross, a cluster of brightly lit stars that pointed parallel to the New World, always pointing to the end of the line. The tree line of the area blocked out most of the open sky so you couldn’t really see any other constellations, but there were plenty enough stars in the sky to hold your attention for a short while.

Growing sore you got up from your spot, the fire now was a simmering pile of embers that glowed softly. You knew it was time to get going. Any longer and you ran the chance of being chased down by none other than the first son of Whitebeard. You wondered how pissed pops was going to be when you didn’t show up tomorrow at dawn, but you didn't want to think about that any further than you had to. Your only mission at the moment was appeasing your devil fruit that grew more impatient the longer it was grounded. Smothering the last of the embers you walked back out to the beach and breathed in the salty air. Wings unfurled themselves from your back and within a matter of moments you were ascending into the starry sky once more. You made sure to keep your haki locked away this time, hoping it would allow you more time to put some distance between you and Whitebeard. You were on the outskirts of his territory and wanted to be out of it by dawn. You weren’t exactly sure where you wanted to go, but maybe traveling to the West Blue for a while was a good idea. It was relatively close and had some islands that could be some fun. 

The sun had begun to rise over the horizon when you had made it past the invisible line that Whitebeard called his territory. You were now utterly free. Whatever happened out here was for the taking. You smiled unabashedly as you continued to soar through the clear sky. The calm belt was just ahead of the horizon and you hoped to be in the West blue by lunch. From there you hoped that you would come across an island to catch some food. Better yet, maybe an island that was inhabited. You really wanted a barrel of whiskey. 

“Ahhh, shit, fuck me…” You whined as you realized you never brought money with you. Although it wasn’t really a problem, you would just steal from poor bastard, but you also didn’t like the extra effort. Whatever, you wanted food and the one thing you hated more than not having money, it was a good ole dine and dash. You had morals, when it came to other things… 

Up ahead you spotted a flock of news coo’s. They must have a fresh batch of papers. Descending to the flocks level you quickly flew by them and snatched a paper from a bird on the outside of the flock. They all yelled back at you but continued on their flight to find islands and ships at sea.  Reading the paper you didn’t notice anything new and exciting, except for this band of newbie pirates from the East Blue. Their Captain was certainly garnering a name for himself– especially with a bounty of 30,000,000.

“Straw hat…” You said thoughtfully “hm, maybe pops will meet with him one day.” You noted. If the kid planned on entering the grand line then it wouldn't be far off to speculate that he would also make his way to the New world. A spark of wonder made you hope that you would get to meet this kid. You wanted to see what he was made of, especially after defeating Arlong, Don Krieg, and Buggy.

Now there’s a name you haven’t heard of in a long, long, time.

“I wonder what he’s up to nowadays. Did he ever make up with that red head?” You thought aloud as you finally made it to the calm belt. It had been a long time since the Whitebeard Pirates ran across Shanks. He tended to keep his ship and crew towards the endline of the New World. There was talk aboard the ship that Shanks wanted to meet up with Pops at some points but you weren’t entirely sure when. The information was kept confidential between Marco and Pops. The last time you had met Shanks was nearly six years ago. Whitebeard had wanted to negotiate a temporary partnership between the two crews to take care of a fleet of pirates causing a disruption on both of their territories. They had been slowly gaining recognition on the Grand Line for purposefully causing trouble between the Warlords and the Emperors of the Sea. If memory served you correctly, the fleet was made of 7 different captains and their crews. They were a large group, but with Shank’s Haki and Whitebeard’s devil fruit it hadn’t taken them long to destroy the fleet of pirates. You were just beginning your battle career. You had taken point on calling out patterns, calling strays and rescuing fallen men. It was work that you didn’t mind, but your strength in battle wasn't honed yet for one on one combat. It wasn’t until after the fight that Whitebeard thought it was good to train you for missions. 

Though that dream was short lived when you had unfortunately ran into a rather fearsome pirate on your first mission. Being overconfident and eager to prove yourself you asked Whitebeard to let you take this mission on. He was skeptical, but he agreed nevertheless. You were gone for over a week before a news coo came and perched itself on Whitebeard's throne. Paying the bird, Whitebeard had opened the newspaper and was greeted with a headline that drained the color from his face. 

“The Courtesan of the White Emperor of the Sea”

You cringed at the thought, the commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates never let you live that down. Although, this was also the same mission that allowed you to get your first bounty. So, to be fair, it was a win-lose kinda situation but now thinking back on it you really didn’t mind. It was really the only way of getting in close to the pirate to complete the mission. The guy was so stupid that it was easy to trick him into thinking you were a rogue whitebeard pirate. Izou even gave you a sly smile of approval when you arrived back on the Moby. Although you wish you could tell Thatch to give it a rest. You swear, that man never forgot a single thing. Maybe he kept all those embarrassing memories in his obscene pompadour he always insisted was the peak of his style. 

The one thing you didn’t like about that mission was the fuming face of pops who gave you an earful for shaming the Whitebeard pirates name. You were boat bound for a month for that tactic– you’d still do it again though. After that particular incident pops made sure to give you lesser missions. You complained for a while but gave it a rest after a few months.

Shaking your head you came out of your thoughts. Flying time was time spent not thinking about things, yet here you were. At Least they were somewhat decent memories. Crumpling the paper up you shoved it into your pocket before descending closer to the water. You were out of the calm belt now, you were on the search for some islands. Scanning the distance you hoped to find an island that had a decent sized bar. 

You guessed by how far the sun had come up above the horizon that Pops was beginning to worry about you. 

I’ll be back shortly I swear . You thought as you spotted an island in the distance. It had a port and everything. As if on cue your stomach growled.

Finding a beach you landed in the soft sand, sending debris flying with a thud. The people who were sitting just a few meters from you looked in surprise and annoyance before going back to their picnic.

Who the fuck has a picnic at this hour? You thought with a scowl as you proceeded into town hoping to find a bar. The town was fairly large, you guessed that it had a sizable revenue from pirates and marines coming and going between the Grand Line and the West Blue. The town was composed of houses built from stone with a central marketplace where vendors sold their goods to the townspeople. A nice sustainable ecosystem.

As you walked through the cobblestone streets you made sure to keep an eye out for anyone that looked like they could be pickpocketed easily. Spotting a man on the north end of the marketplace you quickly made it over to him. There was an alleyway where he stood in front of, you made sure to mind your business as you walked past him. Purposefully choosing to avoid eye contact. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” he cried as you bumped into him. You smiled softly, making sure to keep a calm and submissive demeanor as you looked him in the eyes. 

“Sorry about that.” You said softly as you winked and continued to walk into the alleyway. 

“Uh, yeah… no problem.” The guy coughed slightly dropping the subject immediately, who could pick a fight with someone like you? 

Thank you Izou! You thought as you smirked, in your hand was a sizable bag of berries for you to spend on this island. Turning down into another alleyway you found yourself in a different part of town. The streets were smaller and the people more abundant. Except, these people were all beggars and possibly thieves that were left to rot when the town continued to grow. You felt pity for them but clutched your purse closer to your person as you made your way through them. You smiled curtly as they proceeded to grab and reach for you. They saw your clothes and how well you kept yourself and knew that you were someone better off than they were. A part of you wished you could easily help them, but a bigger more selfish part of you knew that you couldn’t, because would you only help one or two when you should help all of them. This conundrum left you to leave the beggars and thieves to their miserable lives in the back alleys of this town. 

Finally reaching one of the main streets you immediately spotted a bar down the road. Picking up your pace you entered into the establishment by the name of Barnaby’s Ballin’ Bar. Horrible choice of a name by the way. It was quiet with a few patrons already drinking their choice of drink. 

“Welcome ta Barnaby’s, what can I get ya?” The bartender asked as he cleaned a glass.

“What’s on the menu?” you asked as you walked up to the bar. The bartender gave you a small smile before pulling out a menu for you to look at. 

“Thanks, also, I’ll get a barrel of your finest whiskey.” You started as you looked through the menu.

“Right, I'll get that for ya.” The bartender walked to the storage behind the bar. He was gone for a few moments before he walked back out with a barrel of Whiskey.

“This right here is our finest Whiskey, it’ll be a thousand berries.” He nodded his head towards you. Giving the man the money he walked off to tend to other patrons that walked in. A thousand berries wasn’t the most expensive whiskey one could buy, but maybe it was the only one they had in stock at the moment. Either way it was better than nothing.

Looking around the bar you noticed the chipped wooden tables, decorations scattering the walls and the giant head of a dead animal mounted on the wall. The whole place seemed to fit the corner of town it was placed in. Beaten and boring. Shrugging you turned back to the bar and raised your hand. It seemed the only other good thing in this place was the pork meal. 

“Finally got ya order ready?” 

“Yeah, I’ll have about 10 of the pork plates.”

“10? Ya sure?” The guy looked you up and down before shrugging. “Whateva, your stomach.” He walked away and shouted to the back of the kitchen. 

It wasn’t long before the 10 plates of pork were set out in front of you. Immediately digging into the meal you stuffed your mouth full. Your mouth was running as you worked your way through the plates. The devil fruit now satiated at the meal you burped and stacked the final plate on top of the rest.

Fuck that was good~ you purred as you closed your eyes. 

“That’ll be 10,000 berries” The bartender threw the towel over his shoulder as he looked at you glumly.

You handed him the remainder of your cash before scooting out of the chair. You were about finished with this town. You thought about looking at the vendors but with the man you stole the money from roaming the streets you knew it was best to high tail it outta here before he found you.

Walking out of Barnaby’s Ballin’ Bar a coy voice called your name.

“You better be headed home…”

Shit. shit. shit…

Chapter Text

Y’know you know how you said you were always a fighter? Well, that depends on who you’re fighting. If it was an enemy pirate then you’d give a 10/10 performance and nothing less, if it was a challenge between you and a friend you would give a 15/10 performance. Sadly though, your fighting spirit was at a solid 1/10. Now, this isn’t your fault. Nope, it's Marco’s. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself as you hang limping from his talons. The whiskey wasn’t helping but hey, it did keep you warm as your devil fruit didn’t feel like it was helping to keep you warm at such high altitudes. 

“Fuck you.” you grumbled as you looked at Marco who was currently in his half human half bird form.

“You’ve said that before.” He said back, a smirk forming on his face. You scowled. Scowling was becoming a habit since rejoining the crew. 

“And I’ll keep saying it…” You folded your arms which was a weird feeling having been upside down for the better half of the day. You devil fruit was actually beginning to make you feel pissed at the entire world. Where the feelings really yours? Or were they influenced by the fruit? You didn’t know. They were probably a mixture of both but at this point you didn’t care.

When Marco had found you walking out of the bar you tried running but he had quickly caught your wrist pulling you back and into his chest. It was warm, but you really couldn’t think of that right now. You then tried to punch his face but he had dodged that as well. It sucked that he knew your fighting patterns. It was after trying to punch him that he used his Haki to null you into an unconscious state. When you awoke you were over open waters dangling from your feet. You didn’t know how far you had made it away from the bar but you guessed you made it back into the Grand Line. You suspected that the two of you would make it back to Whitebeard by midnight the latest. 

It was quiet for a few moments, a sort of thick silence brewing between the two of you. You wondered how pissed pops would be but it wouldn’t be nearly as close to how pissed you were. How come it was only you that was forced to stay aboard the ship? Why was everyone else able to go and come as freely as they wanted? You didn’t fucking know and it made you mad. Sure you did some things that were questionable, but you were a pirate, it made sense. At least to you it did…

“Why didn’t you come back?” Marco asked, breaking the thick silence between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes as you ignored his question.

“Come on… You were on a good streak, why’d you break it?” He prodded again.

Your scowled softened. You knew why, or at least you thought you did. Freedom wasn’t a question, you wanted that, but you also felt that there was something else too. You just didn’t know what it was. So, you shrugged.

“I see, well, pops is gonna be mad that you disobeyed a command.” Marco said. His tone was unusually soft. You looked at him. It wasn’t often Marco played mother hen over you. Practically it was almost never so this raised a question in your head. He played mother hen with literally anyone else on the ship but with you it was something different. Was he worried? Couldn’t be.

“So, who cares if he is…” your scowled deepened, “When is he not.” You added on softer this time. A pain settled into your chest as you remembered what it was like before you rejoined the crew. You were fine, pops was fine, everything was fine. Until it wasn’t. 

“He isn’t always mad at you.” Marco rebutted as he looked down at you. There it was again, a softness that wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for everyone else, but never you.

“Yes he is.” You snapped. He was always mad at you. That’s why you always tried to sway his attention. If he wasn’t mad at you he would let you roam free, but he kept you boat bound. 

“He cares for you.” Marco said, his eyes steeled with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

You remained silent. There were memories prodding at the back of your mind and you wanted to do anything but let them roam free. They were back there for a reason. Out of sight, out of mind.

A different kind of silence fell between the two of you, one that hasn’t been felt in a long time. To you, it felt like everything was coming full circle. You sighed.

An idea popped inside of your head as you watched the passing upside down landscape. A feeling of excitement bloomed inside of you as you tried to keep your smile from spreading across your face. You looked at the talons locking your feet into place and saw a way to get out. It was a slim chance but you wanted to test your luck. You hoped it would get you a few moments of surprise to get away from Marco. If there was one thing that separated the two of you, it was your speed. Marco may have been the better fighter but you had speed on your side.

“What are you thinking of?” Marco asked suddenly. He didn’t look at you but there was a keen attention that stayed on you that never lifted.

“Nothin’” You said, trying to sound like there wasn’t actually anything on your mind at the moment. Marco hummed.

You waited a few moments before you quickly steeled your feet in haki and kicked them. It was enough that Marco briefly lost hold of your legs and you were able to slip free. You immediately began to free fall. The feeling of ecstasy filling your chest. You giggled as you rolled onto your stomach, your wings already unfurling from your back. 

Marco stared at you annoyed as he regained his composure. He descended after you but you were already  descending fast enough to lose his trail. 

“Come on, you’re headed back one way or another!” Marco yelled behind you as you continued gaining speed descending. Marco wasn’t one to fly at extraordinary heights but he was high enough for you to reach your max speed in a matter of seconds. Outstretching your wings you glided along the surface of the water, your trail sending water into the air. You wings carried you into the air as you ascended. Looking behind you you saw that Marco was nowhere to be seen. You raised your guard. Looking around you actually didn’t see him anywhere in the sky. 

Ascending into the sky you had reached the clouds in a matter of seconds. Halting for a moment you hovered in the air looking around trying to sense where Marco was, there was nothing.

Shit.

Marco was the leading tactician on the Moby. 

Continuing to fly you kept your guard up as you flew in the opposite direction. You didn’t make it far though when suddenly Marco dive bombed you from above. He crashed into you so hard that it knocked the air right out of your lungs.

“Fucking seas below!” You heaved as Marco dug his claws around your torso and leg. Keyword Leg.

“Better luck next time.” He smirked at you as the two of you fell from the sky. 

“Oh yeah, well this is next time.” you grumbled as you used your haki and kicked him in the face. Again his grip loosened and you were able to twist yourself from his grasp. Except this time you didn’t go into a free fall. Your wings were summoned and you flew towards Marco. You would try to fight him in the air. Going for the abdomen you steeled your fist and were able to successfully land a punch. Given that Marco only relied on his half human, half phoenix ability he was an easy target mid-air– if you were proficient in haki. He had no hands, you did.

“Come on, that was a cheap shot.” He commented as he shifted into his human form and gave you a slew of punches. “I’m just as strong mid-flight as I am on the ground, or did you forget?” he said as he shifted back into his previous form.

Your abdomen and chest hurt, noticeably enough he had avoided your face.

Regaining yourself you moved away from him and thought of a way to beat him or at least buy yourself some time to run away.

“Come back to the Moby.” He said, his voice more firm this time.

“I don’t want to…” you said, although you sounded unsure.

“Why not?” He asked as he looked at you. His eyes didn't betray his feelings.

You stumbled over your words. You didn’t know how you should word it.

“I…” you sighed, why was this so hard? “I just can’t, it’s just–” You didn’t know why you stopped yourself, your truth was almost there. Yet, you still stopped.

“Come back and I can try to sway pop’s mind about your punishment.”

You looked at Marco, skeptical, but you also weren’t sure what you were feeling. It was just there and your body agreed to it. “Come with me…” His eyes were soft again. A softness you didn’t deserve. “Come home.”

You scowled again. Home. A place you were supposed to belong.

You mulled over your thoughts, but there were none to actually take note of. There was nothing. Nothing but a deep guttural feeling that weighed like lead in your stomach.

You both hovered in the air, neither moving or making eye contact.

“You promise?” you asked softly as you dared to look Marco in the eyes. 

He flew up to you and smiled softly. He was so close.

“I always keep my promises.” 

You looked up to him and there was a subtle agreement between the two of you that settled deep in your chest. It was something that was never there to begin with. 

Marco began to lead you back to the Moby Dick.

Home…

The term was so new, even after all this time. You were speechless.

Was this really the first time someone made a promise to you? You were almost positively sure it was. 

Following Marco you remained silent for the remainder of the flight.

Marco saw the Moby in the distance. The sun had fallen far below the horizon long ago. He was actually worried about what you were thinking behind him. He had made sure to always send out short, soft bursts of haki all the way home to make sure you were behind him. Luckily you hadn’t decided to fly off. To this, he was surprised. He had thought that maybe you would try a few more escape attempts while on your way back. This was something new.

“We’re almost here.” He said as he looked back at you. You were looking off in the distance with a look he hadn’t seen on your face before. Was it wonder? Or something else? He didn’t know.

You just nodded your head not making eye contact. Your head was filled with nothing. It was like it was broken. How the hell did it break?

Marco turned his eyes to the Moby and descended to the ground. You followed shortly after. Coming out of your thoughts you began to prepare for the lecture you were about to get from pops. You wanted to believe in Marco, but you also knew Whitebeard and his stubborn personality. There was no way you were coming out of this unscathed. 

The two of you had landed rather loudly on the main deck. The scout in the crows nest had rung a bell signaling your return. It wasn’t long before Haruta emerged from below deck.

“Well, well, well, look who’s back.” He said as he looked between you and Marco, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Quit it Haruta.” Marco said bluntly as he walked forwards.

“Did you have fun on your little escapade?” Haruta said softly as he eyed you. You rolled your eyes but a sly smile played on your lips. Haruta, although a little shit at the best of times, was also someone you could play with. He enjoyed drama, same with Izou, but on another level. It was like he lived for the obscene drama that happened every once in a blue moon. Haruta snickered softly as you and Marco disappeared below deck.

Your stomach growled softly as you waited outside of Whitebeard's door. Marco was currently in there talking to him. You hoped that he would keep his promise but there was a small part of you that wanted to believe he wouldn't, it was eating you alive.

“You can’t expect me to let this slide my son!” Whitebeard said, his voice loud and forceful. Even his haki was radiating strongly from the room. You wondered how Marco was able to withstand such a tremendous force. You wanted to shrink away and hide. Whitebeard was already scary enough as an Emperor of the sea, but when he was mad? Or worse, furious? He was a monster. A monster you didn’t want to play with. Alongside his fury was his devil fruit too. The Gura Gura no Mi devil fruit is one of his assets that he used to conquer the New World. It was why he was so strong. 

Shuddering at the thought you leaned against the wall as Marco walked through the door keeping you and your pops away from each other.

“I tried, you can go in.” Was all he said as he placed a hand on your head and walked away. The feeling was brief but it was there and you wanted to recoil into it. Yet, it was already gone and walking down the dimly lit hallway. For a moment you watched as Marco left, following his body until it disappeared. Breathing in deeply you held onto the doorknob and walked into Pop’s room.

I can do this…

“My daughter…” Pops said, his voice strong and filled with frustration.

“Daddy I–” You were cut off by his deep voice.

“Don’t try to play me, daughter…” He said as he looked down at you. The ‘daddy’ tactic not working. You huffed.

“I... I know I disobeyed orders, and I'm sorry. But there's something I need to explain.”

His massive frame loomed over you, his voice a rumble of barely-contained anger. “Explain quickly, before I lose what little patience I have left for you.”

“It's been acting up lately, the devil fruit I mean. It's been begging for freedom, pops. I couldn't ignore it any longer.” You mumbled as you looked down at the ground. It was so interesting at the moment. 

His eyes narrow, a glint of frustration flashing through them. “Devil Fruit or not, you have a responsibility to this crew. Disobeying orders puts everyone at risk, and that's not something I can tolerate.”

“I... I know, pops. But it's not like I can just ignore it, it’s a part of me now. You should know this! I've been bound to this ship for months now, and my fruit–”

His voice is low, dangerous. “Do not speak to me of the truths of our powers. Restless or not, you know better. This isn't the first time you've defied my orders. I expect loyalty and discipline from every member of my crew, and right now, you're sorely lacking in both.”

“I know, pops. And I'm willing to accept any punishment you deem necessary. But please, understand that I didn't do this lightly.” You receded your lined up tactics. He was actually pissed and to be honest you were so tired to try and fight this properly.

His expression hardens. “You'll face the consequences of your actions, make no mistake about that. But for now, get some rest.” Whitebeard rumbled as he leaned back in his chair. 

You nod, feeling the weight of his disappointment heavy on their shoulders. “Yes, Captain. I understand.”

Before you could leave he called you back. You dared to look him in the eyes as a hand came down and caressed your face softly. “Don't make me regret showing you leniency, daughter.”

You nodded, a tinge of fear lacing its way through your chest.

You exited his room and headed straight for your dorms. On the way there you passed Marco, Izou and Haruta without a word. 

They all looked at you worried.

Chapter Text

There were piles upon piles of dishes lined down the tables in the kitchen. You stared in disgust as Thatch patted your shoulder, a devious smile on his face.

“Since you’re on extra labor duty my team took it upon themselves to leave you with extra work to show that you truly are sorry for breaking the rules!”

“Gee…Thanks…”

“Ah it’s no problem really, get to work. Dinner is in a few hours.” Thatch’s smile dropped as he walked out of the kitchen. This would be the last time you would hear from anyone for a while.

You were stuck with forced labor as one of three forms of punishment. When pops had given you forced labor as one of them you couldn’t help but smile briefly, but when he added on the last two you actually were about to cry in front of him. Not like it was the first time you had but still, it was embarrassing.

You could deal with forced labor for a week, but loss of privileges for a whole month was excessive in your eyes. Although, if there was a silver lining it was the fact that he decided not to boat bound you for the time being. However, if you were to leave the ship and take point in scouting or lookout you would have to be accompanied by Marco. You tried to weigh the good and bad and you guessed you could get over it— begrudgingly though. 

The last form of punishment that Pops had decided was a good fit for your miscreant attitude was shunning. This actually would drive you insane. After you had left his room earlier this morning he had made an announcement saying that no one was supposed to talk to you for the duration of your punishment. How long was that? Until pops deemed it necessary to lift it. Even when you were finished with the forced labor and he had decided to end your loss of privileges he could still decide to keep the shunning. He knew you liked talking to people too… 

I thought Marco was going to try and sway his mind… you thought as you started with the pots and pans first before moving onto plates, cutlery, and glasses. Thatch and his division would be back sooner than the other crew members. They were the ones in charge of cooking food so they would need all the pots and pans you could give them. 

As you worked on the dishes at a fast pace you tried to solely focus on that, but your mind liked to wander. It was like a baby always seeing something it shouldn’t touch and proceeding to touch it anyways. 

The silence of the kitchen rang in your ears, even the noises from outside couldn’t penetrate the thick, reinforced walls. The rhythm of splashing water, clanking pots and pans and your steady breath were the only things keeping you distracted. It wasn’t enough and soon your mind melded the sounds together into a chorus that sounded awfully familiar. 

The view of the soapy water in the steel sink slowly disappeared and was replaced by a view you wanted to never see again. 

Eyes scanned the surrounding area taking in the dimly lit tunnel of a place somewhere deep underground in the North Blue. The musky smoke filled tunnel stretched on as hands reached out into the darkness as a voice, a child's voice, echoed into the abyss.

“Mom, Dad?” It called out as outstretched hands found muddy walls. The feet squelched on muddy floors, the mud running between the toes.

The voice called again, it echoed and disappeared never returning. The tunnel was long and dark. The steam pipes and clanking of machinery were the only sounds that accompanied the otherwise silent tunnel that enveloped the body. The eyes looked behind and saw that there were others too, all children soaked and scared as they marched down the tunnel.

“Why’d they drop me off here?” a voice croaked as people in white hazmat suits shoved the children at the back forwards.

“Keep moving.” They commanded. Eyes turning back to the front, the long march began.

Shaking your head you shoved the memory so far back into the recesses of your mind before taking note of how many dishes you had left. A scowled deepened on your face as you saw that streams of Thatch’s crew began to walk in. You had successfully made sure there were enough dishes to start dinner preparations. Silently you thanked the soft mutters of crew mates around you as they began to prepare dinner. You stayed at the back of the kitchen keeping up with the flow of dirty dishes that seemed to always stay the same. The pace at which each member moved in the kitchen was something magical to see when you stole glances. They all danced around one another, each working in harmony as they were able to prepare food for around 1,500 souls on board. Each keeping their word to pops none of them spared you a glance or even a small smile. Your scowl deepened. 

Your resolute personality steeled itself as it declared its challenge to get through this without buckling. You may have broken a couple of rules but you also argued that under the set of circumstances it wasn’t entirely your fault. It all began when Pops decided to make it his duty to keep you protected, even at the expense of your own freedom and will. What did he really expect to come from this?

Hours had passed when you first stepped into the kitchen and when you walked out the moon was already high in the sky. Breathing a sigh of release you held the plate of food you grabbed close to your chest. Dinner had already long since passed, you worked through it knowing that eating with them wasn’t really an option. There were a few people on the main deck scuttering around doing the midnight chores and keeping watch. You were on duty to take the crows nest later in the evening so you decided that right now would be a good time to get some food and a rest. You sat at the front of the ship on the whales head, feet dangling over the edge. The waters were calm and the sky was clear of any clouds. Looking up to the sky you placed your plate beside you having finished it already. You laid flat on your back as you watched the stars twinkle above. You were so bored. 

It wasn’t long before you heard the padding of feet walk up behind you. Turning you saw a member of the 10th division. You weren’t exactly close to Curiel yourself but he had a few members under his belt that were on friendlier terms with you than anyone else in his division. This person however, was in the category you decided was a nuisance more than anyone else. You internally sighed and turned away from him. You were not going to entertain him or anyone else. If pops found out you spoke to any of his sons then it was an added week to your forced labor.

“So, you’re on pop’s shit list are you?” He asked as he squatted beside you. You stayed silent.

“Come one, I won’t tell pops you spoke to me.” He leaned forwards and you could see his rather unappealing face from your peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes, but anything that showed you were annoyed would push him to continue. Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“What did you do anyways to piss him off this badly?” He continued again. Much like the rest of Curiel's division he was decked out in pistols and other firearms. You couldn't remember his name but he was top ten ranked under Curiel. Kasu– no, Kiri– nope. Eh, forget it. 

“Come on, you’re not actually gonna ignore me are you?” He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back so that you were facing him. 

Oh my fucking— I’m actually going to kill him aren’t I? You fumed as your face reddened. He snickered. It took every ounce of your self control to not just shove him away. You didn’t want to chance taking more punishments from Whitebeard. 

Heavy footsteps sounded behind the two of you and a sinister smile spread across your lips as you stared at the man.

“Katsuro… get back to work.” Curiel's voice spoke sharply, a glint of rage behind his eyes as he caught his member harassing another. He grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him away from you rather aggressively. The man let out a yelp as he was dragged away. Curiel didn’t spare you a glance but you were glad to be spared from whatever Katsuro had in mind.

Pulling your knees to your chest you decided that rest is overrated. 

The long arduous week was passing by at a snail's pace and you were actually about to scream if you had to mop the deck, clean the dishes, and take midnight watches any longer. At one point Katsuro joined you in the dish department but it was such an awkward silence that you tried to forget it ever happened. It was worse because neither of you could actually talk to one another as you worked for six hours. 

The ringing of the bell signaling an arriving boat sounded across the ship and drew your attention. Setting the mop aside, you and others gathered around the port side of the ship. It wasn’t long before Pops made his way to the main deck with a soft smile on his lips. 

“Ace, he’s finally back!” One person yelled happily. You raised your brows as you tried to sneak a glance at the arriving mini Moby. The second division commander was out at sea for more than a month scouting the outer perimeters of Whitebeard's territory. The ship looked like it was in fine condition and Ace was at the helm waving. Your steady heart lifted at the return of a crew member. Not wanting Pops to notice you slacking you slithered out from the group of men and went back to mopping the floors. 

When Ace had boarded the ship he was welcomed with cheers and claps on the back for his safe arrival. The crew he had taken with him was small, they didn’t expect to find or fight anyone on this scouting mission. If you remembered correctly, he was tasked with finding more islands to name. Despite the vast waters and assumption that whitebeard knew all islands within his territory was false. In fact, the majority of the time spent within the territories was spent trying to find all the islands that were hidden. 

As the cheers and happenings of the group of men settled down Ace had walked up behind you and placed both of his hands on your shoulders pulling you into his chest. You stifled a laugh that was trying to escape.

“How’s my favorite sister?” He asked his voice deep, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. 

Suddenly a cough pulled his attention from you. It was Marco. He asked Ace to follow him to which he agreed to almost instantly. Leaving you alone once more. 

Marco told Ace of your punishment and a soft blush washed over the fire commanders face as he laughed nervously. Marco made sure to tell the rest of the returning crew as well. All their faces fell as they looked at you still mopping the floor of the deck. 

Yep, shunning was by far the worst punishment you could actually have right now.  

The rest of the day went by uneventfully as you continued to mop, clean, and keep watch in the crows nest. If you weren’t you were either sleeping, or sitting uselessly in your room waiting. Everyone around you continued to act as if you weren’t even there. 

A cruel kind of familiarity.

Chapter Text

The week was over and the crew had begun to talk about how it was time to head to land to resupply and hit up a bar. You were three days out of your forced labor punishment and you were now soaking up the sun at the front of the ship. Although, if you had to admit, not having the extra work to do left you more time alone doing practically nothing. Nothing was bad, usually it was good… for other people but for you it was actually worse than bad. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually were left alone for this long without someone to talk to since joining the crew. 

Wow, has it really been ten years since then? You thought as you tried to ignore an itch on your abdomen. You were still bruised from Marco beating the shit out of you a week ago. You could have just gone to the infirmary to get him to heal it but you also liked staring at your marks that littered your body. You categorize it as something morbid about yourself, but they were reminders of who you were and where you came from. People who didn’t have scars were weird and you decided that they lived rather docile and adventureless lives. 

While you may have been free of your endless dishwashing duties people were still ignoring you, this was eating at you but you tried to ignore it the best you could. There were some who lingered beside you in what you could guess was a silent solidarity to keep  you from actually going crazy and you thanked them silently every night. Like right now, Izou was far enough away that he couldn’t be called in for breaking a command, but he also was close enough to you that you felt his presence. It was a reassurance that you kept close. 

Something above had blocked your vision leading you to opening your eyes. A news coo was standing near your head looking down at you. Wondering why it had chosen you as its receiver remained a mystery to you but taking a newspaper and a letter addressed to Whitebeard you handed the bird its money and it was off again. Suppose it was about time he received something. Pops rarely went without mail, there was at least always something for him every week. Whether it was updates from commanders out at sea, one of his many allies, another emperor of the sea, or his protected islands. Always something for him to read over and make a decision. You were kinda glad you weren’t such a formidable leader such as him, you conceded long ago that subordination was your calling. Which is why you hadn’t taken up Whitebeard's offer to become the commander of a new branch, an offer he extended to you two years after you joined the crew. He was still looking but there was no one worthy of the title so he had yet to actually add the new branch to his fleet.

Walking down the stairs to the main deck you spotted pops at the back of the main deck sitting in his throne watching over the happenings around him. It wasn’t long before he spotted you walking up to him. He gave you a small smile, he was still somewhat agitated at your miscreant behavior from a week ago but it’s subsided enough for him to show you this much grace. 

“My daughter, what brings you here?” He asked as he looked down at you.

“Just a news coo. You have mail.” You said softly as you handed the letter to Marco. Marco used a knife to open the letter before handing it off to pops to read. You smiled softly at Marco who smiled back briefly before something had caught his eye.

“I see well…” Pops said, a tight smile forming on his lips as he looked out over the horizon. “We should head into port to stock up on supplies.” He added. A final decision to whatever he was thinking. Pops looked back down to you and his smile faltered as he spotted the bruise on your abdomen, along with a few scraps.

“Marco take care of that.” He said. Marco nodded before motioning you to follow him. 

You paled slightly because you knew the marks would disappear but you didn’t want to test your standing with pops during this time… so, you followed.

You were under deck still following behind Marco when he turned around and looked at you skeptically. 

You shied away from his gaze preferring to look at the hardwood walls.

When the two of you walked into the infirmary room you sat down on the chair and waited for Marco as he prepared the room. As you watched him grab alcohol, bandages and ointment you quirked your brow.

If he wanted to heal you quickly he should have just used his powers. Not only was he able to heal himself, but he was also able to heal others as well. It would have been much less hassle.

“Can you sit sideways?” He asked as he looked at you, his eyes glinting with the light of the sunshine coming in from the porthole.

You shifted sideways and Marco had pulled aside your unbuttoned shirt to look at the scabbed cuts. They were from his talons, you both knew this. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel bad about this interaction. 

Marco worked at cleaning the wound before applying ointment and a bandage over the wound. His hands were careful not to brush against your skin. Once he was done with the scrapes on your abdomen he sat back up and looked at your arm. It was bandaged up, although, with the work you had taken on over the past week you weren’t able to keep up with the cleanliness of it. You really didn't want to see what those bite marks looked like under those fraying bandages.

“Give me your arm.” He held out his hand as his lips formed into a thin line. You gave him your arm without a word. The lingering fear of Whitebeards commands ghosting your back. You really didn’t want to mess this punishment up so you listened and stayed silent the entire time. It was funny, on a morbid kinda level, but you thought you were forgetting your own voice. 

He began to unwrap the bandage, in doing so it was tugging and pulling at the dried up blood stuck to your skin. You let out a small hiss… this wasn’t good. Marco looked at you before stopping. He turned grabbing a cloth and soaked it in warm water before returning to your arm. He slowly worked away the dried blood and mucus before finally revealing a very poorly taken-care-of wound. Your face flushed in embarrassment, eyes darting to literally anywhere in the room to avoid his annoyed and pointed look. 

You could already hear his speech about taking care of wounds, “ You should’ve taken better care of this, changed the bandages, used ointment, maybe even have gotten stitches blah, blah, blah…” you wanted to roll your eyes.

Although as you waited nothing broke the silence between the two of you.

With the same care as before he worked at cleaning the wound of the dried blood and mucus before applying ointment and then wrapping new bandages over the bite marks.

“I want you to come see me tomorrow so I can change them again.” He said as he started to clean up his work space. You nodded your head showing you understood him. 

As you got up to leave the room he turned around and coughed, this pulled your attention so you turned to look at him.

“Why didn’t you come to me after we arrived back on the ship? I didn’t know I beat you up that roughly.” There was a mountain of concern in those eyes as he looked at you. Cobalt eyes shadowed with something like regret. You shrugged.

You knew the reason, you just couldn’t voice it to him. Not yet at least. The electric sting of a command still lingering in your bones.

Haki was so weird that way.

Marco looked down a soft sigh escaping him before he allowed you to leave.

Walking back up to the main deck you realized it was about lunch time. The wafting smell of thatch’s cooked roamed the open air and over the main deck. Immediately you stomach growled and you followed the smell of the food to the galley where everyone else had already made their way in and found their spots. The creaking of the doors drew some eyes to your frame but most still wanted to obey Whitebeard's command and opted to just not look your way. The shallow feeling in your chest returned. You really hated shunning. 

Walking down the rows you made your way to the buffet display and took your place in line. Today’s menu was leftovers, the crew really was running short on supplies. 

Grabbing a plate you slowly made your way down the buffet line grabbing whatever peaked your choice of food for today.

When you were finished you found your way back to your table where the rest of the commanders ate. They were two tables sat on either side of Whitebeard. You either sat on the left or right depending on who you wanted to chat with but since you were still on your punishment you opted for one of the other tables in the middle of the galley towards the main entrance. You sat with members from division 4, 5, and 12. You didn’t know them by name, but they also weren’t eager to get to know you either.

Lunch was as uneventful as the last three days and so you decided to take your time in eating. It wasn’t like there were dishes waiting for you, or mopping, or crows nest watching time… Wow, you really needed to do something. As you played with the mashed potatoes on your plate you heard Whitebeard clear his throat. Looking up you saw him straighten in his chair.

“I should make this announcement now, since I have you all here. I received a letter earlier today stating that Shanks will be visiting us to talk about the Blackbeard pirates. As some of you may know they have been slowly gaining recognition throughout the Grand Line. Within a fortnight he will make contact with our ship. I want each and every one of you to be on your best behavior. I know that Shanks has become a pirate that goes against our own pirate code since the last time we’ve banded together, but he holds vital information on the Blackbeard pirates that I cannot ignore.” Whitebeard paused as he scanned the crowd before his eyes found yours in the back. “I would also like to add onto this announcement.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you held pops’ gaze.

“As all of you know, a certain member of our crew has been under a set of circumstances as a form of punishment for disobeying my commands.”

Your face reddened as you looked around the galley, all eyes were on you. Everyone knew…

“With that being said they have successfully, without incident, completed their first punishment. They have shown true aptitude for taking on tasks that were not theirs to take on.” Whitebeard had paused letting the weight of his words settle over the crowd.

“They had also shown immense fortitude in showing their dedication to commands. I know that some of you had tried to sway or even share in their punishment without their knowing…” A few mummers ran through the crowd as people looked around at one another. Shy glances were shared amongst Izou, Ace, Haruta, Marco, and a few others you shared positive relations with in each division. Even Katsuro avoided eye contact with pops cause he knew that he knew .

“However, given this, I want to lift their second punishment. They are now free to mingle amongst their crewmates without worry of disobeying an order.” Whitebeard had sent a small smile in your direction as you felt a weight lift off of your chest. Nearly a fortnight since your punishments were established and you were now free from two of them. The only one that mattered was the shunning. You hated not being able to talk to people when you wanted. 

“I expect you to continue to show us, to me, that you are dedicated to this crew from here on out. I want each and every one of my sons and daughters to succeed whether they are a part of my main crew or if they are off on their own adventures with their own crews.” Whitebeard had finished his speech slamming his halberd into the wooden floor with a resounding thud.

There was a silence that followed as everyone took in the information. You were stunned, you were nearly certain that pops would extend your shunning for at least another couple of weeks. 

The silence broke when cheers and clattering mugs hit their tables. The crew apart of divisions 4, 5, and 12 each clapped you on their shoulder as if they were happy to be able to greet you without worry.

They are really happy to be able to talk to me, are they? You thought as you laughed softly, a nervousness washing over you as nearly everyone in the galley welcomed you back with open arms. Surely the ones who showed it didn’t really mean it? Right? Obviously this was too much to handle. 

You weren’t quite sure why, but the celebration of your punishment ending was more than you could handle. You grabbed your plate and walked back to the buffet where a bin of dirty dishes was placed at the end of the table. Cold, weak hands placed the dirty dishes into it and soon you found yourself walking out of the galley, nothing but a ringing noise in your ear.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

What was the cause?

When the fresh air hit your face you came out of your mind and found a clear ocean blue sky up above. Yet, that still didn’t shake the icy cold feeling wrapping itself around you. Clutching onto a railing you tried to catch your breath. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Why was this happening??

The worst of your punishment was lifted, you were practically free from it all. Yet, this feeling still lingered in the back of your mind. Shaking your head you tried to count your breaths.

“Shh, it’s okay…” A calm voice said as warm lithe hands wrapped themselves around your shoulders. The scent of lavender and ocean salt enveloped your senses. Izou. It was Izou…

“Breath with me okay?” He asked as he kept you still and firm in his arms.

You followed his breaths. They were slow and steady.

“Tell me five things you can see.” He asked.

“I-I see the ocean, the railing, the–” you paused to sniffle “redness of your yukata, your nicely painted nails, and–” you hiccuped “and the clouds up above…” you mumbled as you looked around yourself.

“Good, now four things you can touch.” He whispered once more in your ear.

You looked around and felt for the satin touch of Izou’s yukata, then the railing that held smooth white paint, your hair, and finally weirdly enough the brush of the wind on your fingertips. You voiced these all to Izou who stared at you wondrously.

“That's amazing, now three things you can hear.” He turned you around in his arms and made you look into his eyes. Those soft brown eyes that glinted like honey under the sun's gaze. 

“The creaking of the Moby…” You mumbled as you clutched onto his arms. “The birds up ahead, and–” you hiccuped once more. “The crashing of waves against the ship.” You looked at Izou who was nodding along with you, eyes so soft and caring. You didn’t deserve this.

“Now, two things you can smell.” He said softly. A soft motherly smile on his lips.

“The smoke from the kitchens and the ocean salt.” you said as you gulped down a hiccup. The nervousness that surrounded you like a cold blanket slowly dissipated.

“Now, one thing you can taste.” Izou urged as he clasped your face in his soft hands. You desperately wanted a whiskey.

“I need a whiskey for that…” you mumbled a soft smile playing on your lips.

Izou laughed at your joke before pulling you into a hug.

“I can get you that.”

“I-I don’t know why that happened…” you said, for once there was no shame in admitting this fault of yours. Usually you wanted to be the perfect daughter, one that held no shame in the way you lived your life. Now? Well, that wall was slowly crumbling.

“It’s okay, we all have our moments. What matters most is whether or not we shy away from them or not.” Izou held you stronger as you let the warmth of his hug wash over  you. This was the first time you let someone hug you so closely. 

“Please don’t tell anyone…” You pleaded as you nuzzled into the crook of Izou’s neck. Your demeanor was returning and a slow but steady shield of iron casted itself over your heart once more. 

You weren’t quite ready for everyone else to see you for your weaknesses.

Chapter Text

The Moby had landed in port on a large island. You knew Thatch had a part in locating it as you could already see the market from here. It was fucking huge. This island was fairly new to the crew, only a few had even been here on scouting missions and vacation getaways on the mini Moby’s. However, to the rest of the crew this ship was also brand new to them. Plenty of adventures were waiting for the Whitebeard Pirates as they each descended down the planks and onto the docks below. You waited at the railing watching as everyone else was headed into town. You were waiting.

How long does it take a guy to get ready?... You thought, a slight tick to your brow as you watched the skies above. The clouds were languid, much like a blond haired bird you were supposed to be with for the duration of the stay. I mean… it shouldn’t be that bad, right? Your heart stuttered for a brief moment before steadying back into the two step rhythm. Sighing you felt the tug of your devil fruit within you. It was itching to be let out. 

Shifting into your half human, half bird form your dark brown wings outstretched themselves under the warmth of the sun. It fills you immediately and the stretch also relaxes the tense muscles of your shoulders. For some reason, stretching in bird form just felt better than as a regular human. It was strange but you weren’t complaining. 

The Moby was supposed to stay on this island for a couple of days, it would allow us enough time to gather the supplies we needed as some free time to explore and relax from our regular duties. Still you were also expected to ride out your last punishment so you couldn’t do much unless Marco had a say in it first. Either stay by his side, or have him agree to an escort. Were you a child? Okay maybe sometimes, but that’s not my fault… You quipped back to yourself internally. You sighed harder this time. You were actually going to go insane.

Yet, even as the thought quickly passed it peaked your attention. ‘Maybe sometimes’ ? What the hell. 

Whatever, you didn’t have time to think about it as you heard footsteps coming up behind you.

“You ready-yoi?” He asked, his voice as calm and commanding as always. You weren’t sure how he was able to keep a calm yet dominant facade. Maybe it came with the territory of the first son/ first commander titles he held.

“Yeah, lead the way B–” bird-man. The name you were about to say quickly fell off your tongue. You cleared your throat as he gave you a questioning look. You smiled sheepishly as your face began to heat up.  

“Mind repeating that again-yoi?” He asked, you could already hear the smile on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“Just lead the way.” You mumbled as you followed closely behind Marco. Holding your hands to your face you tried to beg the heat to go away. What the hell was wrong with you.

The two of you walked in relative silence. You were taking in the scenery and townspeople. This island was like many others, but considering the amount of ships that were docked here you could easily guess that they got plenty of visitors from both pirates and marines. You guessed that this was some kind of neutral territory where people could go by without much fuss– unless you wanted to cause trouble. 

While walking your mind went back to the previous interaction. It replayed in your head and as it did you tried to understand why you hadn’t called him the nickname. Usually you’d try to make his life more annoying than usual. Like when he came to snatch you from your little escapade adventure. This time shouldn’t have been any different. You rolled your eyes seemingly more annoyed at yourself than anything else. Then your eyes landed on a pinboard on the outskirts of the market you were about to enter. 

You really needed an update on your bounty, this one was six years old. 

“You’re awfully quiet, what’s up-yoi?”

“Nothing, just thinking.” you said absentmindedly.

“Anything in particular?” he pushed further, he fell back and was now walking beside you. His hooded gaze watching you with passive interest.

You shook your head. You probably should have come up with a lie, but you were tired. More tired than you should or could have been. You weren’t getting depressed were you? You rubbed the length of your arms as you continued to follow Marco deeper into the market. You weren’t sure where exactly you were going but what you did know is that there was a bit of a bite to the wind. I should’ve brung a sweater .

As the two of you walked a small radiating heat washed over you. It brushed away the cold air and left you feeling moderately better off than before. A small smile stretched at your face as you silently thanked your devil fruit for expending the extra energy to keep you warm. 

“This way,” Marco urged as he walked to a store named Penny’s Pens & Papers Emporium. That is one hell of a name… and not the good kind. 

“What do you need?” You asked as you were grateful for the warm interior of the shop. It smelled of fresh ink, paper, and leather.

“Just a few stacks of paper and ink, I was running out.” He said as he weaved his way through the aisles. You stayed towards the front not bothering to follow after him. There was enough space where he could keep an eye on you while you roamed at your own accord. The heat that was radiating from you had left and the chill had set back in. 

Walking over to the few books that they already had in stock you skimmed through them. Most were papers about the local island while others were more on the craftsmanship of book binding and paper-making. Very representative of the shop itself. Your eyes landed on a particular book that peaked your interest. 

The Art of Writing Well by Tanaka Stonewall. 

Picking up the book you noticed that the book was about learning to write, with a complementary tiny dictionary added at the end. Pursing your lips you wanted to buy the book considering your own writing was horrendous. It took you ages to write a single letter and your vocabulary was small. This book seemed like it would help with both considering in Stonewall's notes she too came from the same place. 

Although, since you had limited privileges that meant you also went without an allowance. No money meant no buying nice things.

Whatever, I do just fine even without it. You grumbled internally. It was forced, you knew on some deeper level that it was false. You needed it. If you couldn’t fight then maybe becoming a diplomat would improve your odds of survival. You did have the attitude for diplomacy– if stubbornness was counted as a trait.

Setting the book down you folded your hands across your chest trying to find some semblance of warmth.

Walking back to the front entrance you waited patiently for Marco to finish his business.

“You got your shit?” You asked, a playful smile on your face.

“Yeah, I got my shit-yoi.” Marco replied as he shoved your face with his hand. You didn’t realize how large his hand was until it covered nearly your entire face, muffling your voice. 

“You’re such a loser.” You grumbled as you moved his hand out of your face. 

“Say’s the one on probation-yoi.” Marco looked in your direction, a sly smile on his face.

You crossed your arms again and stuck your tongue out. 

“Whatever, where to next?” You looked around the market and saw a couple of your crew mates loitering around. Some were at stalls bartering for something while others were walking among the vendors viewing what was in stock for the season. You could easily guess that the majority of the crew were either at bars or brothels. 

“I see Thatch, let’s see if he needs any help-yoi.”

You groaned.

“Do you want to show pops that you’re dedicated to the crew or do you want to be on probation-yoi?” Marco rebutted as he looked at you. His tone was serious but there was a hint of playfulness hidden amongst the blue hues. You rolled your eyes. You really wanted to get on pop's good side this time, you also wanted your freedom so there really wasn’t any choice.

“Good–” Marco choked before continuing “That’s good-yoi.” 

“You alright?” you asked, this time it was your turn to look at him. A small laugh wanted to escape your lips.

“Hm, yeah… m’fine-yoi.” Marco muttered out, a soft pink tint on his face and neck.

It sounded like he was going to say something else but changed his mind immediately. Furrowing your brows you didn’t ask further. 

Walking up behind Thatch Marco called his name.

“Oh hey guys!” He said happily turning towards the two of you. “Well, look who it is, the Courtesan.” A playful smirk spread across his face as the vendor behind you turned beet red, questioning eyes darting between the three whitebeard pirates. Your face flushed.

“Will you put that shit to rest!” You tried to smack his chest but he stepped backwards and out of range. 

“Come on, it’s a funny story!” He jibbed.

“It was funny the first half dozen times, now it’s getting annoying.” You sent an S-grade scowl in his direction. Thatch laughed nervously while rubbing the back of his head.

“I will sneak into your quarters and cut the fucking pompadour off your head…” You added on as an extra insult.

“Jeez, okay, I’ll give it a rest…” Thatch looked between you and Marco before turning to the nervous vendor and handing him some berries. “For now at least.” He added on quieter. You still heard. Before you could pounce on Thatch steady arms held you back. Turning you saw Marco chuckling.

“He’s just pulling your leg, calm down.” He said through fits of quiet laughter. “You’re easy to work up, y’know that right-yoi?” He added on, arms folded over his own chest mirroring your own body.

“Shut up, no I’m not…” You wanted to pout but instead you opted for looking the other direction.

“Yes, you are. It’s fine though. The crew likes it, Marco even thin–.” Thatch was cut off sharply as Marco reached over you and grabbed the collar of his shirt, eyes glaring at him with something you didn’t understand. 

“Shit, and you had the audacity to say I was easy to work up…” You snickered.

Walking away from the two of them you sighed. What the hell… 

Between the bickering and time spent with them you noticed that those iron plates were slowly rusting. 

The three of you ended up walking back to the ship with some non-perishable food items that Thatch had bought. He had told you that he let his division wander for the day rather than help him. Feeling better about making a fuss over the extra labor you made sure to lay on the dramatics all the way back to the ship. Although, you knew that they both took it in stride.

It wasn’t until after the three of you had made it back to the ship that you finally realized that you had not been cold the entire time you were out at the market. Thatch even made a comment on the warmth he felt but said nothing more.

“Right, well I’m hungry!” You said as you stretched your arms. They were stiff from carrying a sack of grain and an assortment of small-ish bags of dried beans, lentils and peas. 

“I’m not making anything so you’re on your own.” Thatch said quickly, arms raised above his head and brows high to the sky.

“What?! I don’t have money though Thatch.” You begged him to make you something, even soup but he kept to his word and shook his head. “Do you wanna see me starve?” You added on, your voice raised a pitch as you tried to sway his mind.

“Cook it yourself, I’m on break now. Also, if you feel like extending your hand to help the crew I’ll be buying all of the perishable foods tomorrow before we leave port.” He hinted towards you. You stopped your whining and looked at him skeptically. You truly did make a fuss out of everything. Yet, you hoped that this would change pop’s mind so you agreed. “That’s great, come meet me at the market around the same time!” Thatch ruffled your hair, messing it up as you walked by you. The same warmth found you, and again, you decided to stay in it.

“Look at you being a go-getter.” Haruta said. He had shown up not long after Marco left. He had papers to write and whatever else he did in his quarters.

“Yeah, shut up Haruta.” You jostled back.

“Come on, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.” He feigned a tear.

“You and your fucking crocodile tears…” Thatch muttered as he shoved passed Haruta who stuck up his middle fingers at the cook’s back.

“Yeah, but you love me!” Haruta stuck out his tongue. You giggled at their banter and turned towards the kitchen.

You wondered what you wanted to cook for lunch. You were feeling like a sandwich but also your devil fruit wanted meat. Or something filled with protein.

Turning towards Haruta you posed a question, “Hey, you think Namur can catch some fish?”

“Nah, he hasn’t been found for quite some time since we made landfall.” Haruta mused as he leaned against the galley tables.

“Bummer, well, I suppose I can cook something up since Thatch saw it to be a good idea to leave me his whole domain.” You clasped your hands onto your hips, a smug smile playing on your lips as you looked at the spotless kitchen in front of you. Haruta snickered behind you. He knew, you knew, the person who mattered didn’t. A perfect set up for the coming afternoon.

“I have no involvement in whatever you’re thinking.” Haruta cleaned his sword as he settled down.

“It’s not going to be that bad.” You fussed back. Sure you didn’t really know how to cook a full course meal for hundreds of men, but you could muster up a solid meal for a couple of people. 

Here, with Haruta merely a shadow on the wall, you begin to cook a meal for the top brass of the ship.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for you to decide what you wanted to make. The dish was easy to make and didn’t require a lot of ingredients. While looking through the pantry and fridges you noted that you did in fact have all the ingredients required to make a lunch for a few people on the ship. In total you’d make a meal for five people. As far as you know the only people on the Moby were Haruta, Thatch, Marco, Pops and yourself. Everyone else was out enjoying the island. 

Haruta was still hanging in the galley, not really watching but making sure you didn’t take off somewhere. Marco had switched shifts for a while. Haruta was much more forgiving than Marco. However, you knew he was still dedicated to keeping his word. Something you poorly lacked among the crew. It’s not like you did it to cause harm to anyone, but ever since the incident five years ago you’ve been different. Now you were being forced to confront the things you’ve been trying to hide from ever since you joined the crew. Flying truly was your only escape from the clawing of shitty memories. For once, there was a strong need to be able to show that you cared. You wanted to blame pops for forcing this upon you, but you also knew it was probably about time to start doing something to ease it all away. The first step was making this meal. 

You hoped that they wouldn’t make a huge fuss over this, you hated when people overtly showed their feelings towards you. It made you feel weird, like a viper slowly tightening around you. Feeling woozy and fearful of things you didn’t know crowded your rational. It made you fight for your breath and clasp your chest. Izou was the first and only one ever to truly see you in times of distress– that’s why he was the only one to comfort you too. The attacks were never as frequent before the incident but after, for weeks on end you’d run to his room eyes wide and breath shallow. That’s why he was so good to you when Whitebeard had made that announcement before. He knew and he had gotten a system down that helped to calm you. 

I hadn’t had one like that in a while, maybe several months ago? You had mulled over in your head in the dark hours of the evening wondering why you had suddenly gone into a panic. The answer was sitting at the edge of your tongue, but denial still held it firmly in place. 

This shouldn’t be as hard as it is… you mused, lips firmly set in a thin line, as you brought all of the ingredients to a warm skillet. You added water, soy sauce, sweet cooking rice wine, sake, sugar, and Thatch’s homemade dashi powder. You stirred them together before grabbing a fairly large onion from the pantry and slicing it up. You let these ingredients simmer together for a few minutes. During this you grabbed what was left of the meat in the fridge and thinly sliced it. Raising the temperature you waited for it to come to a boil before adding the beef. 

When everything was all ready you grabbed five bowls and set them beside the food. People could come in and serve themselves, the only person you wanted to make a plate for was pops. You’d go to him yourself.

Putting a healthy portion of rice into a bowl you added the beef that had a nice sauce coated with sauteed onions and to top it off you added a raw egg. Gyudon was the only recipe you had ever memorized from the few times you cooked with Thatch. You were good with instructions and could make a solid meal if the recipe was close but Thatch had made it a point to always learn a few meals off by heart. Thanking him for this little tip you carried your own bowl and pops’ bowl out of the galley.

“Help yourself to a portion!” You called back to Haruta who looked up at you. He quickly hopped off of the table and walked over to the meal you had just prepared. He smiled, unbeknownst to you, Gyudon was actually one of his favorite meals growing up. This warmed his heart to a degree he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

As you walked down the corridors of the creaking ship you fell upon Marco’s door. Carefully placing two bowls into your one hand you knocked softly onto his door. There was silence before a chair scuffed across the floor. Marco opened up his door and peered down at you, blue eyes tired. 

“I made lunch, there should be enough left for both you and Thatch, if you can tell him that would be great.” You said. Marco smiled softly, shoulders relaxing at the thought of lunch. 

“Thanks, you didn’t have to. I was gonna go out, but your offer seems more enticing.” A half smile spread across his lips as he combed his fingers through his hair. 

You smiled softly as you made your way down the hall towards your destination.

Marco watched you as you walked down the hallway towards Pop's room. You hadn’t said what exactly was on for lunch, but he did get a glimpse at the bowls you carried and surmised that this would be a good option. He knew you had done some work with Thatch over the last few years but he hadn’t been able to try anything you had cooked. This was a first, it made him happy to see you putting more effort into things. The fight from 5 years ago had certainly changed you, he had worried about you, as with everyone else. It presented a threat to devil fruit users. Yet, over the years he gained a solid understanding of how you reacted to relationships that were too much. You always maintained a distance with everyone, well everyone except Izou. That was still a mystery to him.

As you turned the corner you saw the large doors of Pop’s room and breathed in deeply before releasing. This’ll be fine, just lunch. Knocking at the door Pop’s immediately let you into his room.

“My daughter, oh, is this lunch?” He asked, a soft rumble emitting from his body. He was pleased. 

“Yeah, I made Gyudon. Thatch let me use his kitchen cause he didn’t want to make me lunch.” You laughed softly as you handed him his portion of lunch.

“I see, well I appreciate this gesture.” Whitebeard inspected the meal before using his chopsticks to dig in. You watched intently seeing if you had chosen a good meal. Pops was notorious for judging food that was either too good or too expensive. Funny enough, he preferred food that was cheap and fine alcohol. You hoped you got this right.

A soft hum of approval had your shoulders relaxing. You dug into your food as well. 

It was a quiet lunch. You had things you wanted to say but you weren’t sure how you should pose this conversation. It was kinda a heavy topic. When you finished you placed your bowl on the table by the door. Pops had handed you his bowl as well. 

“So, what’s with this new gesture?” Pops prodded as he leaned back into his chair lifting his brow. 

“Um, I just wanted to try something new, I guess.” You muttered as you played with the buttons on your shirt.

“Is that all or is there something more?” He asked again as he began to write. The soft glow of the candle on his desk illuminates part of his face. He was getting older, fine wrinkles highlighting the parts of his face he used the most. It was then you realized you didn’t have long with him. Maybe just a little over a decade, maybe more. Although it was more likely he would die before he could land his feet back onto the shores of his home village of Sphinx. He still fought and with new pirates reaching the New World it was more likely that one of them would end up taking his place. You were still only a child in his eyes, and to be frank you had plenty more time left to roam the open waters. You just weren’t sure if you could do that without Pops.

“No…” You trailed off. Your mind was still reeling with ways to say what was on your mind. Why was it always so difficult to show emotions outside of being stubborn and brazen. You sighed internally. You moved closer to pops who hadn’t stopped his work. “Um, I just wanted to apologize for what I did.” Your voice was soft spoken and your eyes never left the hardwood floor covered in carpets. The flame flickered as if acknowledging the existence of your words.

“I trust that you won't do that again,” Pops started as he placed his pen down. It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a statement. You nodded. “However, I also understand that you wish to roam the skies freely. Over these last two weeks I have been thinking to myself and I’ve come to understand just how deeply I have hurt you by keeping you on board these last five years without consideration for your own being. I don’t want to keep my only daughter away from life and its many wondrous adventures. I just want you to be safe.” He pushed his chair back and turned towards you. “That being said, I want you to promise me that you will do everything within your own right to be safe and to always choose to be safe while away from the ship. I don’t want to see you hurt again.” He added as he leaned forward with a soft assuring smile. 

There wasn’t an electric ripple of a command coursing through your body as he asked you to make this promise. He was letting you make this choice freely. You gulped and stepped towards him, placing your hands on his. You placed your forehead against your hands and closed your eyes. Your devil fruit power swirling within you as a ripple of electricity, so soft you barely recognized it yourself. 

“I promise.” It settled within you as your devil fruit accepted the change in behavior. You would do anything within your own right to stay safe from here on out– no matter what. It was strange to use a command on yourself. 

A soft rhythmic vibration coursed through you as Pops lifted you up into his arms and placed you onto his lap. Another strange feeling coursed through you as you leaned against him. 

“When was the last time we spent time together?” You asked softly as you looked up at him. You were mistaking feelings with others and it was all so confusing, you wanted to shove them all away and feel nothing, but wishing for change only took you so far. You had to make small steps to continue forwards. 

“True time spent together?” He clarified as he leaned back into his chair. “Not in a long time.” He muttered back. 

“How do you spend your time with the others?” You asked. You knew that some people on the ship preferred to keep things strictly captain/crew related but the commanders and few crewmen also loved being a son figure with pops. You knew you liked it too, but you also were so unsure of what that meant. What you do in a relationship like that. You were always subservient to others. 

“I’m getting too old to spar properly, but I know that my sons love to listen to my stories.” Pops breathed deeply. He was relishing this moment. Prouder than you thought about your ambition to try and shift how you saw the world, to how you saw people and your relation to them.   

“I can start listening too.” You muttered as you were growing sleepy sitting in the warmth of your fathers lap. Shaking your head you tried to not fall asleep. 

“Next time I will tell you all of them.” He muttered out as well, seemingly tired too. 

It wasn’t long after that you heard his soft snores. You shifted and looked up at him, a tenderness in your heart. 

You climbed out of his lap and slowly walked out of the room, dirty bowls in hand.

It was a quiet walk back to the galley. Your mind was distracted with what had just occurred. Your devil fruit within you was hyper and wanted to roam freely. The electric feeling of haki between people was different and as you thought more you began to notice that Pops haki was nowhere within you. He hadn’t verbally agreed to dismantle the last punishment but you also weren’t really prepared to test that theory out yet. You own haki though, was sharper, keener with a lick of tenderness. You made a mental note to ask him yourself just to be safe.

Walking into the galley you saw that those who were left on the ship were sitting at a table conversing amongst themselves. Haruta was the first to see you walk in.

“There you are, this lunch is fucking delicious!”

You raised your brows as your face reddened. “Glad you like it.”

“I should add you to my division!” Thatch joked as you placed the dirty dishes in the bin. You found yourself at their table. “You’re not in one anyways.” He added a slight laugh to his voice.

It was true you weren’t a part of a specific division. For many reasons, but the main one was the fact that Pop’s was still thinking of making you the head of a new division. 

“You already have a large enough division to look over, you don’t need me.” You stated. “Anyways, glad you liked the meal Haruta.” You mused as you gave him a smile. Everyone else in the galley hummed. It seemed to you that they all enjoyed it well enough. 

“So what were you and pops talking about?” Thatch asked as he peered at you while still eating.

“Just some stuff.” Your voice was quiet.

“He let you off the hook or something?” He asked again. 

“Not yet, at least I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so?” Now everyone was confused.

“I made a promise that alluded to my freedom but he never actually said.” You didn’t really want to tell them of that promise. This conversation was between you and pops only. 

They all made faces of understanding before Thatch dropped the subject. Everyone respected boundaries and didn’t try to force their way into someone else's business.

“Well, if anything I think that you should be free from your final punishment soon. Pop’s loves food and this meal definitely made an impact-yoi.” Marco said as he leaned against the table, body towards you. Thatch who sat across from him smiled nodding his head.

“Oh yea, anyways are you guys going into town this evening?” He looked between the three eyes eager for one of them to say yes.

“I actually want to buy something but I don’t have money.” You looked sheepishly between the three men. They all knew what you were about to ask as they shared nervous glances. Technically they wouldn’t be in trouble if they did help you but they also respected pop's decision.

The doors to the galley opened and in walked Izou styled in a new yukata. 

“Did you buy that today?” Everyone asked in unison. Izou’s face tinted pink as they placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes I did.” He said a small smile on his lips before he leaned down and whispered into your ear.

“I’ll share that whiskey with you now.” If there was one thing you loved about Izou it was the double meaning behind those eyes. Not only would you share a whiskey as promised but you would also get the chance to get what you needed.

Chapter Text

The sun had fallen below the horizon long ago when you found yourself in a quiet little bar tucked into an alley just outside of the market. You didn’t want to be out too late as you were charged with helping Thatch bring in the rest of the groceries. You had a glass of whiskey in front of you as Izou finished ordering a small snack for the two of you to share. Before the two of you had left, Thatch had told the both of you that dinner was going to be on the ship, it was going to be later in the evening so that it gave enough time for word to spread across the island. Namur, who hadn’t been seen since making port, had shown up with a large quantity of fish for the fourth division to prepare and freeze. Fish was on the menu for tonight. You were actually excited for fish; it was one of the main proteins you would eat to satiate the hungry devil fruit within you. You figured it was in part to the make of the fruit, being half eagle and all that. To be honest, you couldn’t really remember what you liked before eating the fruit. You were just a child when you were forced to eat it. Grimacing, you saw Izou give you a questioning look.

“What’s on  your mind?” He asked as he leaned forwards.

“Just thinking about dinner and my devil fruit.” you hummed as you took a sip from your alcoholic beverage. It stung on the way down, but the apple flavor lingered.

“It’s going to be seafood, one of your favorites.’ He mused as he too sipped from his cup.

You nodded.

“It’s been awhile since I last had fish.” Your mouth watered at the thought. There was a part of you that wanted to give in to your primal desire to just tear into it bone and all. You truly weren’t like this were you? Definitely a trait of the fruit.

“Devil fruits are weird.” You stated after some silence fell between the two of you.

“How so?”

“I should be more specific, I don’t know what traits are mine and what are the fruits.”

Izou nodded in understanding.

“Zoan type fruits do have a will of their own, it would make sense. I wouldn’t be surprised if your original personality and that of the fruit mixed together. Marco himself  has stated that his personality changed as well.” Izou mentioned. You looked around the bar and saw more people stream in. 

“That’s the thing though, I was young when I was–” you paused briefly, “When I was forced to take the fruit. I don’t know who I was before that.”

“What makes you say this now?” Izou asked. He knew little of your past before the pirates. You made sure to keep that under lock and key with seastone to be sure it would never escape.

“Being on the Moby had forced me to confront things I never wanted to see.” You stated bluntly. You weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the comfort that seemed to ooze from Izou himself that made you spill these words. 

Izou didn’t comment but rather nodded his head. He knew you had panic attacks that were spurred on from memories and feelings associated with your past, but he never wanted to pry into things that were sensitive. So, he stayed quiet about it. He tried to find ways to help you through those panic attacks and had ended up with a method created by doctors. It helped. 

“About the attack you had, do you know what spurred it?” Izou asked tentatively. He was taking a chance at asking considering you were being so open with him now.

You were quiet. You had thought about it, yes, but you also weren’t sure you wanted to accept it. It went against who you wanted to be, who you tried desperately to show the world.

“I have an idea, but it’s complicated.” You muttered as you took another sip.

Izou nodded.

“I won’t stop though. If there’s one grace in my life, it's my ability to try and keep going. I’ll get to the end line, one way or another.” You muttered, more to yourself as an assurance than to Izou. However, the smile that wrapped his face you knew he approved of the determination. 

You were someone who definitely didn’t know the definition of giving up. You may lose, you may fall or stumble, but you always fought through to the end. 

“I’m happy you’re choosing to do this. I may not know much about your past but what I do know is that you’re strong. You value your morals…” He looked at you with a sly look on his face, “even if it goes against your commands. It’s all admirable though. Not many people have the same tenacity as you to keep going when the shit gets thick. Some would rather lie down and give up.”

Your cheeks heated as waves of pride and modesty washed over you. 

“Oh, I’m also gonna tell you this just cause you’re my favorite, but I had lunch with pops today and we had a chat. I made a promise and he told me that I was free to do what I want once my probation is over.” You smiled at the freedom that laid on the horizon in front of you.

“Oh, that is wonderful news!” Izou beamed as he clasped your hands in his. “You have done well over these last five years, despite some bumps, but I also want you to know that five years is a long time, even for a pirate.” Izou chattered on. He and several others on the ship had gone to pops several times throughout those five years to try and get him to drop his overprotective attitude but he was just as stubborn as you. It was all understandable, but you also had been training under the commanders ever since that day and had grown stronger. There truly was no need for you to stay boat bound any longer.

“Yeah, oh, also that reminds me–” you started but were cut off by Izou shaking his head.

“Don’t say anything. I know, that’s why I also brought you out tonight. However, we should get going. Dinner is going to be ready soon!” Izou drank the rest of his drink in one sip and so did you. Paying the bartender the two of you had left the back alley bar and headed into town.

The following morning you woke up to the sun shining in your face. It was awkward getting Pop’s final apology gift back on board considering it was fairly large but you and Izou had finally got it to your room without anyone noticing. Removing the warm blankets from your body you got dressed and left your room. 

You had gotten a confirmation from pops last night after dinner that indeed your punishment was finally over. You were beyond ecstatic but also very tired so instead of going on a night fly you headed to bed. As you walked through the ship you began to think about how you were tired all of the time. It wasn’t like this and while you initially thought it was depression you knew it wasn’t. You had dealt with depression before and it did involve your ass being tired. However, it always morphed into more shortly after, but this tiredness was something else. It all began when you allowed yourself to feel comfortable in others' presence. Shrugging, you walked off of the Moby and journeyed into town to help Thatch with the groceries.

You saw him in the distance already with a few bags in hand. He had two other members from his division with him ready to take anything back to the ship. Calling out to him he turned and smiled brightly.

“Hey! Right on time, I have a few items already stored in this vendor's fridge. If you don’t mind carrying them back with these two then that would be wonderful. I just need a few more items and we should be set for the month.” Thatch turned back to the vendor and the burly man had looked at you and gestured to follow him. The three of you followed the black haired man and saw that there were indeed several bags and crates of food items ready to be carried back to the boat. 

“Do you have a sturdy net I could use?” You asked the vendor who nodded his head and went further into his store to grab a large net. He seemed to understand what you were going to do. Handing you the set you nodded your head in thanks.

“Okay, if you can pile up most of the items on this net I can carry it back to the ship and begin unloading.” You asked the two other crew members who nodded.

You walked outside and layed the net on the ground and helped the other two crew members load up crates onto the net. Once there was a hefty load ready to be carried you tired it together and shifted into your half-beast form. Grabbing onto the net you hoisted the heavy load into the air and carried it back to the ship.

Fuck this is heavier than I thought. Your devil fruit power expended more energy than it needed to keep you strong enough to carry the load back to the ship without dropping it. Your wings strained against the heaviness, thankfully you had made it to the ship and slowly set everything down on the main deck. Shifting into your human for you dropped the short distance from the air with a thud. The shock of the impact traveling up your legs.

“Keep doing that and you’re going to go numb in the legs.” Turning you saw Marco leaning against the railing, his calm demeanor shifting to something more playful. 

“How? My devil fruit keeps me healthy.” You stated.

“For now, it can’t always keep you in shape though. You’re getting older, and with that comes with a whole slew of things.” He chatted on as he walked up to you.

“Okay, well what about you then?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m special, immortality has its advantages I suppose.” He said, this time there was an undertone that was unsavory.

Taking his words into consideration you nodded your head. You then remembered the conversation with Izou last night. About how he said Marco also faced changes to his personality thanks to his devil fruit.

“What were you like before your devil fruit?” you asked unabashedly as you lifted a crate and carried it to the kitchen. Marco paused, confusion written on his face.

“Why do you ask?” Marco stole a glance in your direction as he steadily worked alongside you.

“I was talking to Izou last night, he said something about you saying that you too also experienced a change in personality because of your powers.” You voiced as you walked around the kitchen putting away foods where they belonged. 

“Yeah, I did, but I was also a child and I never really had a solid understanding of who I was.” Marco said.  

“Aren’t you ever sad that you don’t get to know who you truly are though?” You questioned. Your heart yearned softly in your chest to know who you were, to know who you would’ve been before all of this.

“I am still me, even with my devil fruit. Zoan-types may be influenced but we don’t actually change all that much.” Marco said, trying to quell any worries you carried. It was true. Zoan types were influenced by their devil fruit abilities, but most could also determine which impulses were their own and which weren’t. He didn’t know much about your past and wondered what would had happened to you to make you so unsure of yourself. 

This thought didn’t help, you truly were weirder than most if that was the case.

“I see.” A soft scowl presented itself on your face as you continued to carry crate after crate into the kitchen.

“What’s this all about?” Marco asked. He continued to carry crates in trying to ease the workload for you.

“I don’t remember.” To Marco this meant you didn’t know why you brought the conversation up, but you also were so lost in thought that it didn’t register like that in your head. To you, it meant you didn’t know who you were before eating the fruit. You had erased– nope not yet. That meant thinking about it all.

There was a brief pause to the chatter as Marco worked through his confused thoughts. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I like who you are now, despite how you may feel about yourself.” Marco set a crate of carrots down in the pantry. His voice echoed through the kitchen reaching your ears. You paused.

“I– uh, thanks.” You said quietly.  Feelings coursed through you again, this time they were so familiar that you tried to shove them away. Not today, maybe not ever. They were just words. Nothing else but that. You tried to reason away the slowly building heat in your chest, neck and face. Just words.

It wasn’t shortly after the remaining two fourth division crew members walked into the kitchen and began to help you and Marco out. By the late afternoon you all had brought back and put away all of the food that Thatch had bought.

“Shanks better be grateful for our food cause I swear to the seas if he doesn’t” You muttered out as you laid on the table. You were spent. You were also hungry.

“He likes kimchi fried rice and lobster so you bet your ass he’ll like it when I present the tastiest lobster he has ever had to him!” Thatch beamed as he re-took stock of all the food that was on board. 

“When will he arrive again?” You asked as you sat up.

Marco was the first to answer “In about a week and a half.”

You nodded your head. It certainly had been awhile since you had last seen the redhead. The last time you two had fought together you had just joined the crew. Pops had said he had strayed from our own values, so that was interesting to say the least. This whole interaction was going to be something else entirely, your haki made sure you understood that much at least.

“Do any of you know what Pops meant by what he said about Shanks?” You asked, too curious about it yourself.

“No.” They all said in unison as you raised your brow.

Interesting

This was interesting…

Chapter Text

A week and a half later you were on an island roaming around a village that wasn’t too far off from the Moby. The ship laid in open waters and while you should have been on the ship now, you also wanted to just get away from everyone for a while. With your new found freedom you woke before the sun had risen and left the ship quietly. It was still early morning and people weren’t even out of bed yet. The mildew clung to the stone walls and crawling vines as birds sung in the distance. This was nice. Definitely a change from the hustle and bustle of the ship. It had been five long years of staying by Pops side, wasn’t all bad really, but this right here was lovely. Whenever you were able to leave the ship for those few short hours there was always an anxious feeling in your chest. However, now you didn’t feel like you were being leashed. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you sat on a bench in the center square. 

Finally, freedom.

You’d have to get back to the ship soon, Shank’s was supposed to arrive today sometime before noon. You were asked to be present when he did. It was curious that he wanted to talk about Blackbeard of all things, but maybe there was something serious happening that only he knew about and felt concerned enough to bring it to pops. None of the other commanders had heard anything, even Ace hadn't run into towns that whispered tell tale signs of disturbances. What did Shanks know?

The sun was slowly coming up over the tiled rooftops of the village slowly drying away the mildew that coated the land. It seemed that today was going to be much warmer weather than the last few days. You were thankful. Ever so slowly the people of the town opened their windows, and started up the morning chores. Some hung laundry while others began to pack their carts– some held fruits while others held more home essential items. Before you had left you got Vista to spare you some change that was left over from his allowance with a promise to pay him back in full with interest.

You wanted to buy something but the island you had docked at last time was farther than you wanted to fly. You really wanted that book. Alas, maybe you’ll come across it later. 

Stretching, arms high into the air and legs outstretched, you yawned and got up. Even though you had your devil fruit it didn’t stop the effects of aging, much to your dismay. Slowly you were feeling aches and pains in places you were at least hoping wouldn’t show up for a good 30 years. Pirates really suffered. Climbing the mast, tugging on sails, and the likes of doing other sailor-y work took a toll on your body. 

You looked at your arm and saw the slowly healing wounds of your attack. Even though the promise you made to pops was made after the attack, the lick of your electric haki stung just below your scars– You could hear it whisper ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ in your head. You definitely did not play safe while challenging the beast. 

I’ll do better… You thought as you looked away from the mark. Your thoughts wandered and suddenly there was a moment of clarity.

He did all of that to make sure I still had my scars. You sat up immediately as if your own body was shocked at the revelation. He didn’t know why you wanted to keep them, but he did know that you wanted to keep them. It’s not like you kept them a secret, you looked at them often and in public, everyone basically knew. If he had just used his powers the scars would have disappeared. You squinted at nothing in particular. How strange. Your cheeks heated and you sighed as you slumped back into the bench. There was no way he did that for you. He was just bored…

Although, there was one scar that you refused to acknowledge. That’s why you always wore a button-up shirt of some sort. You liked the short sleeved ones but also wouldn’t say no to a long sleeved one, but you also tended to roll the sleeves up on them whenever you got too hot. Anyways, moving on...

You shoved the thought away and got up from the bench. It was about time to grab something to eat and head back to the ship. The market was full and there were people mingling about looking at what was being sold. There were a few tattoos that you noticed were from other pirates, but you paid no mind to them as you walked slowly through the growing crowds. As far as you were concerned your allegiance wasn’t being displayed and so that meant a veil of safety.

The Moby was anchored near the western border of pop's territory, easy access for Shanks without having to worry too much about sailing in enemy waters. This small village you found was just outside of that border, Which is why it was safer at the moment to keep your tattoo hidden. 

Walking up to a vendor the smell of taiyaki wafting through the air made your stomach growl. The stall was decorated with images of the types of food they offered while dangling paper lamps hung from above. They weren’t on, but you could already see how they would illuminate the stall when dusk fell over the town. Looking down the rows of stalls you noticed that each and every stall also had a similar make. The owner of the stall walked up and greeted you with a small smile. Looking deeper into the stall you saw that there indeed was a fresh batch of Taiyaki waiting for someone. Your mouth watered at the thought.

“Can I get,” you paused and wondered how many would satiate the fruit within you, “I’ll get five of the taiyaki, please!” You beamed as you did a small bounce on  your toes. How long has it been since you last had taiyaki? This was probably one of your favorite snacks. It wasn’t much in the way of nutritional value of a proper breakfast but you didn’t care. 

“Sure thing sweety.” The vendor smiled and turned to grab a paper bag and tongs. You watched as they picked out five taiyaki and placed each one into the paper bag. Turning back around the vendor asked for 500 berries, you nodded your head and handed the vendor the money. This left you with less than 1,000 berries to grab something else if you wanted. Clutching the paper bad you grabbed a taiyaki and began walking down the rows. You landed upon another stall selling pork sticks, again your mouth watered and your fruit swirled around within you. Moving forward, you also asked for a few sticks. The old vendor was more than happy to take your remaining 1,000 berries from you. Stuffing the six remaining pork sticks into the paper bag you ate the four you currently held and began to leave the market. It was a miracle that these elderly vendors were selling food so early in the morning, either way you left beaming from ear to ear.

Looking up to the sky to see where the sun lay you realized that you were gonna be late to the meeting. Gulping the pork that was in your mouth down hastily you started running. There was a cliff to one end of the village, you really couldn’t take off in front of everyone bustling through the streets, unless you wanted to send debris scattering into everyone's faces.

Before noon is such a vague time ! You cursed in your head as you found the cliff guarded by a stone fence. Clutching the bag of food you sped up your pace and vaulted the fence. The drop was immediate. You plummeted. You smiled briefly and you let go of the bag of food before shifting into your half beast, half human form. Long sleek brown-black wings replaced your arms as strong yellow talons replaced your legs. It was rare to use this form, but it was also the quickest. It took more concentration to unfurl wings from your back and you didn’t particularly like your full beast form. Spreading your wings out you caught the draft that was billowing from below the cliff and it carried you into the air. Your talons clutched onto the paper bag effortlessly and you were off back to the ship. 

You saw the Moby in the distance and saw that the Red Force was on the horizon. You let out a breath of release feeling thankful that you weren’t that late. As you descended you spotted pop’s already waiting on the main deck. You slowed your descent and fluttered down and landed relatively softly by his side.

“I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show up.” He muttered down at you. You let out a nervous laugh trying to ease away the tension. It was a matter of minutes before Shanks would board the ship.

“Well, I made it back on time.” You said as you shifted back into your human form. The commanders were already on the main deck lining in a row with pops in the center.

“Barely.” A soft rumble left pops mouth as he readjusted himself in his seat. “Go stand by Ace.” Pops tilted his head towards Ace who was standing at the end of the line. You grabbed your bag and skirted down the line smiling at Namur, Fossa and Curiel on the way down. They had all smiled or nodded back. 

“Long time no see, birdie.” Ace whispered to you a smile on his freckled face. 

“Long time indeed.” You spoke softly. It had been awhile with your punishment but also because he had been sent away on another short mission shortly after your punishment was up. 

“I hear you’re finally free, how do you feel about that?” Ace looked up at you. It was a short distance between height but you also weren’t the tallest person on the ship.

“Finally,” You said, voice airy. “Feels really nice to not have to worry about it. I’m hoping I get my first mission again. It’s been ages!” You rolled her eyes playfully as you shifted your weight to one leg. 

“Right, it has been awhile since you last went on one.” Ace muttered as the bell rang once, twice and then a third time. You saw the Red Force slowing its pursuit. Immediately you felt the sweltering heat of Shank’s haki wafting from the ship itself. You gulped and your fingertips went cold. When had he bolstered his haki? Or has it always been this strong? Question after question flew through your mind as you saw crew member after crew member begin to buckle under the weight of his haki.

“Sea Kings below…” Ace muttered as he too felt the weight begin to buckle his own resolve. It took everything within those standing next to pops not to buckle under the waves of haki that oozed from Shank’s form. A plank clattered onto the Moby forming a makeshift bridge between the two large vessels. You saw the signature red hair and with each step he took across that plank the heat of haki grew and grew and grew. You were nearly sweating trying to keep yourself upright. Your fruit nearly in shambles as it hid further into your own being trying to hide away from it. 

As Shanks walked by, the crew that gathered in clusters on the main deck fell like flies, one after the other, too weak to stand against the waves of Haki emanating from his body. 

What the actual hell is this power? You looked at Shanks with thinly veiled fear and a speck of awe. You have never met anyone who had this much haki, even pops when he was mad never matched up to this level of power. You looked down the line and saw beads of sweat on nearly everyone's face. Pops was the only one that didn’t look like he was struggling to maintain composure. You were sure he was feeling the effects but whatever he did he didn’t buckle, or show emotion other than pure neutrality.

“Excuse me.” Shanks said, a small smirk playing on his face, eyes sharp and devoid of all emotion “I had to be a little threatening, being on an enemy ship and all.” He continued stopping mere feet away from Pops.

“Just seeing your face makes the wound that bastard gave me ache all over again.”

“I’ve brought some sake; a gift and a promise not to fight while here.” Shanks paused, handing over the large bottle of sake. It looked expensive from what you could tell. “As you know, I’m here to talk about Blackbeard.”

“You knock out half of my men and then give me sake?” Pops laughed loudly, mockingly. Arms folded tightly over his chest. “You’ve got balls you snot-nosed brat.”

“You fucking bastard, he’s not joking red hair, look at the mess you created.” Marco growled.

“First division commander!” Shanks said, all malice and tension on his face fading away immediately, “You’re Marco the Phoenix, I have a proposition, come join my crew!” He continued, a large grin plastering itself onto his face. You tilted your head, he was charming, you doubted that anyone else saw it that way. The seemingly strong display of haki simmering away to a slow but strong pulse. Definitely no way Marco would actually consider his offer. Just like that Marco spat back.

“Go to hell.”

Those who weren’t passed out laughed softly amongst themselves. You too couldn’t help but grin. Even though Shanks was stronger, way stronger, than last time you fought he still had that air of charm around him. You wondered how he was able to do it so flawlessly. You noticed he also sported stubble that speckled around his mouth and chin. You hummed quietly to yourself. 

Ace peered up at you but didn’t say anything.

“Well, what is it you want to talk about?” Pops asked, voice neutral.

“Out in the West Blue there have been sightings of Blackbeard and his crew, every time he’s spotted it seems that there's more and more people on his ship.” Shanks said, voice low and steady.

“You’ve come to talk to me about a pirate who’s recruiting people?” Pops bellowed, a sneer over taking his face. “If that is all, then why bother?” He asked.

“It’s more than just recruiting. The pace at which he’s doing it is unlike anything anyone has ever seen. He’s also been spotted at a densely packed cluster of unmarked islands within the calm belt just outside of the West Blue. I know he’s hiding something, I feel it within my spirit.” Shanks remarked, fist balled. A jittery wave of haki washed over the deck. It nearly made your legs watery and buckle under the surety of its power. 

Really, who juiced this guy?! You mewled. 

“You know that he’s adamant on continuing the age of pirates and you know more than anyone that your era is coming to an end. I bet on my last arm that he will do anything to speed this process up.” Shanks held steady the gaze of pops who had thunder brewing behind his eyes.

“Are you saying he’s coming to kill me?” He growled, his own haki rivaling Shanks who was still emitting such a strong force. Marco tensed at the amount of haki he was experiencing, you looked down the line and saw Haruta, Curiel, and Ace all training their eyes on the ground. 

“I’m not saying it’s unthinkable.” Shanks said.

“So what do you think then?” Pops asked, his voice all too steady for the rage behind those eyes. 

Wait, he’s considering it?! You wanted to curse Shanks out for even bringing up an idea like that. Why wasn’t pops cursing him out for thinking of such an absurd idea.  

Whitebeard was the King. You couldn’t kill a King. 

“I want to personally survey the land of which he has visited, see if there’s anything there…” He paused, his eyes scanning the line of commanders pausing only when they fell on yours. “The only thing is, I don’t have an aerial asset. I’m wanting to borrow yours.”

“Marco has his responsibilities here on this ship, his devil fruit wouldn’t work even if I did agree.” Those burning eyes raged and his haki thickened like molasses. 

“I wasn’t talking about Marco. You have another.” Shanks pointed directly at you and you paled. 

He wanted you to survey an unmarked island.

“What do you suppose you’ll find on that island?” 

“Something dangerous, but the mission wouldn’t be to intercept anything. It would strictly be to survey the land and head home.” Shanks’ eyes left you to look at pops. You were frozen in place. Too stunned to speak.

“When do you plan on going on this mission?” Pops asked. 

“Immediately.” Shanks shrugged nonchalantly with a small smile on his face, “The island where we think his main ship is is deep within the West Blue. I would have them for two months, to survey the two suspected locations." He paused and looked briefly at you, eyes burning with such intensity, "if you let me take your crew member that is. The mission would be easier if we looked from above, less chance of being spotted. We would do it under the guise of the night, unlike Marco they don’t sparkle like a beacon–” Shanks rubbed his hand over his mouth and itched at the stubble, “well they sparkle, but not in a literal sense. They wouldn’t be spotted in the dark is all I'm trying to say. I trust that they’re sufficiently trained seeing as they are standing amongst your top brass.” He commented. He seemed so confident in pops saying yes, but you finally broke your icy stance and glanced at pops. 

You loved freedom and you loved flying and to be honest you would love to go on a mission. Yet, for whatever reason you desperately didn’t want your first mission to be this. In your head you were begging for pops to say no, to shake his head vehemently and bellow a command for Shanks to leave this ship and figure something else out. If what he was asking had any inkling of truth behind it then you didn't want to be responsible for the possibility of failure, cause that meant pops could die.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his chin, the first tell tale sign of any other emotion outside of rage and neutrality.

You blinked.

He nodded.

Chapter Text

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

It’s been a long time since I last saw your faces. I never knew how much this would hurt. It all happened so fast and hard that it took away my cage. It took it, now I’m left to witness my own pain all over again. He’s not much help, but he’s doing his best. I just wish I was with you. I think I’ll tell you when I return. Maybe.

Ps. He says I should >:( 

I’m not happy. I’ll see you soon.

Chapter Text

It felt cramped on the Red Force. Compared to the Moby this ship was smaller by half the size, but you also knew that this ship was probably one the largest amongst those who commanded the seas. It still was small though. 10 long years on the Moby and you had grown accustomed to the hustle and bustle and blue-gold tints that scattered the ship. The Red Force was decorated in red and black tints with a fearsome dragon-like figurehead. 

The lunch that Thatch had made went by relatively quickly. You were lost in your own head running over what had been said during the meeting. At one point you had looked back at pops, who sat beside Shanks, and saw that they were laughing and cheering on as if he didn’t just give you away for a mission you never had a say in. You wanted to be mad, in fact, maybe somewhere deep within you, you were. However, you couldn’t muster up the strength or will or whatever you needed to bring it to the surface and scream in his face.

You just sat at the table among the first division. You didn’t want to sit with the other commanders. 

You couldn’t even enjoy the seafood lunch that Thatch had prepared. Usually you would be elbow deep in food eating lobster, crab, and fish like there was no tomorrow. Yet, you had barely touched the lobster. You didn’t want to look at the table cause you could already feel three pairs of eyes on you. It wasn’t long after you had gotten up from your place at the table and left the galley to prepare a bag for yourself. Two months was a long time. Longer than you wanted to stay out at sea… out at sea with a pirate who, by Whitebeard's standards, didn’t live up to the pirate code. You wondered what it was about Shanks that made pops say such a thing.

The sun was setting as you watched the Moby drift away further and further from view. Your hands clutched the red painted railing. A brisk wind tore through the sails and blew across the deck of the ship. Goosebumps scattered your body and you shuddered. 

You would need to pull your emotions in and stay focused while you were on board. It was fine to be mad and later you would allow yourself to look at it, but for now, you were on a mission given to you by your captain. You would complete it and you would return. 

“Sorry for pulling you into this so suddenly.” A gruff voice from behind you said.

“It’s fine.” You grimace and turn.  

“I’m glad you came, I really am.” He clapped your back as he stood beside you staring out at the horizon, the Moby no longer in sight.

“You said two months, right?” You asked, turning to him. You saw a soft glint of happiness in those dark brown eyes that hinted at colors of burgundy. Everything about him was so red. 

He nodded and then sighed deeply as if mulling over thoughts he wanted to say.

“I’ll be honest, this mission is going to be hard. There isn’t a lot that we know for sure about Blackbeard and the crew that he’s gathered. We also don’t know what he’s hiding in the cluster of unmarked islands within the calm belt. My ship doesn’t have the crew required to do stealth missions.” He laughed softly looking down at the grain of wood under his feet. “He’s been very quiet and secure in his motives. Hell, there was a moment of time where we didn’t see him for nearly a year. He’s too good at using his own devil fruit and has, what I’m guessing, is a great mastermind beside him.” Shanks eyes grew dark. There was a thought swirling in his head that you couldn’t decipher. “I’m hoping that you’re going to be able to help us out. Your task is strictly to fly above the two locations, use your sight and get out with any useful information. He has his territory locked tightly. I won’t be in the vicinity to help if things go wrong.” Looking back up at you he waited to see any signs of worry or anger to wash across your face. “I know this is a lot to take in and we can talk about it some more later with the rest of the crew, but I need to know now if you’re willing to put your life on the line for this mission.” Shanks turned and looked out over the horizon. The sun was just dipping below. The last few rays being chased away by the evening. You hummed and thought about the mission.

There was a lick of electricity over your heart as you replayed the last few words. 

Am I willing to put my life on the line? This toyed with the very promise you made to pops. Your haki knew this, even your devil fruit knew it too. Were you really willing to put your life on the line for the hope of gaining any useful information? You would be in the dark, alone, and in enemy territory far beyond your own skill. Yet, the thought of pops dying because you were unable to get that information loomed at the forefront of your mind.  

“Is this truly the only way to go about this mission?” You asked quietly. Your arms were folded over your chest as your brows were set in a scowl. You haven’t heard much from or about Shanks ever since pops released the treaty they made together. He was a mystery.

“I’m afraid so.” A thin line set on his lips as he looked away from you. “I’m hoping that under the cover of night you’ll be okay and there won’t be any problems with you getting spotted.” He added.

You were torn between saying yes and telling Shanks to take you back home. That he’d have to find someone else to do this mission. If you asked you’re sure Shanks would nod and tell the crew to turn the ship around without a second thought.

You were both willing to do anything in your power to help your crew, to save pops, however you were also binded to your own command over yourself to stay safe no matter what. 

You huffed, a puff of air floating up and into the void of night. It was getting colder. Your eyes followed the cloud of air and then looked at the stars highlighting the sky. 

Another ripple of haki washing through your own body.

“I’ll do it.”

Shanks smiled as a small chuckle built within him.

“I'm glad you agreed.” He moved and pulled you into a warm embrace.

“It’s been a long time since we last met, but don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten how you fought the last time we were together.” His voice was light and you could see the smile lines across his face as he continued to hold you. You wrapped your arms around him.

“That was ages ago, I’m surprised.” A laugh spread across your lips as you pulled away from the hug.

“Ages?! You wound me.” Shanks joked as he pulled you forward. You guess that he was taking you to the galley as the sweet smell of dinner wafted through the air.

“Sorry, eons ago!” You snickered back as you followed him. Your stomach growled, your fruit was eager for more food.

You wondered how it was easy to return to such a calm and relaxed state. Just hours ago you were about to collapse under his haki and then you were stiff with anxiety after stepping aboard the Red Force. You didn’t dwell on it for long though, you didn’t want to squander your time rethinking about what-ifs, the past, and an unsure future. 

Waking up you were startled to not see the familiar confines of your bedroom. Looking around you remembered that you were not on the Moby but rather on the Red Force. Your head throbbed and you remembered that Shanks crew was notorious for partying late and partying hard. Not that you weren’t a party-er yourself but you liked to ease into it for the entire evening. However, with Shanks it was drink after drink after drink. 

Never again, fucking sea kings below… You groaned and turned in the bed. It wasn’t as soft as your bed on the Moby but you also had years to buy well made covers and pillows to suit your needs. You really liked soft and comfortable beds, it was your little nest. You thought about asking Shanks if he intended on stopping at an island at any point along the way. Maybe you could find some blankets or something to make this bed more comfortable.

Throwing the blanket aside you realized you also didn’t have a port window that allowed the sun in. All there was were wall sconces and an additional candle on a desk that clung to the far wall. This room wasn’t bad, but it also lacked the decorations that were in your room. 

The stay was only two months, you could deal with an empty room for the time being.

You walked the lower deck following the signs to the galley and after a few turns and stairs you finally found it. You weren’t sure how early it was, but considering the smell of breakfast still lingering in the air seemed like a good indicator that it was still early in the morning. Your head was throbbing as you shuffled through the corridors. Your devil fruit was being a pain in the ass. Usually it would be more than happy to help you through a hangover, but you guessed that it was mad or annoyed or something because you were in the vicinity of a powerful haki user. You cursed it for being such a wimp. You needed your power, you couldn’t wait for it to settle into the new aura. 

You were going to be helpful for the time you were on the ship, you weren’t going to be dead weight. 

The doors to the galley were already opened and as you walked in you noted how similar it looked to the one on the Moby. A head table housing the main commanders of the ship with rows upon rows in neat lines in the lower portion. You weren’t entirely sure how large Shanks' crew was, there were some missing commanders that you knew and newer ones that you had yet to meet. If you had to guess Shanks had split his crew into two or more ships. The Red Force being the main one that he stayed on. 

Shanks was already up with the commanders waving you over. You smiled softly and walked through the sea of crewmen and to the commanders table. 

“You're finally away!” Yasopp chuckled as he chugged on an amber liquid. You wanted to guess that it was apple juice, but considering the tangy smell coming from his place at the table you knew it wasn’t. 

These guys really do drink from sun up to sun down. You thought as you took your place by Shanks' side. He wasn’t drinking yet you were sure he would be by noon. The Red Hair pirates were notorious for drinking whenever they felt like it.

“Good morning, lovely lady.” He commented as he pulled out a chair for you to sit on. You thanked him quietly as a plate found itself in front of you. Unlike the Moby, with a self-serve style of galley the Red Hair pirates had servers. 

“So, how long is it until we get to Blackbeard’s outskirts?” You asked as you dug into the sausage and egg meal. 

“About three weeks of open waters, the toughest part is going to be the calm belt. However, before we exit the Grand Line we’ll make a pit stop at an island to stock up on supplies.” He said as he leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the crowd of pirates. 

“Good. That was my second question.” 

“Why, you need something?” He asked, curious eyes turning to you. You were stunned to see that they had gotten redder. 

“Just some stuff for the room.” You said breaking eye contact. 

“The room you have not good enough?” He joked as he prodded your side.

“Not by a long shot. It has to do with my devil fruit.” You explained.

Shanks’ interest was now peaked. He turned his attention fully to you with a smile gracing his face. “I know that Zoan-type users are influenced by their fruit, how are you impacted?’ 

“I’m guessing it's like a bird thing, but I need my bed to be my safe spot. That includes nice blankets and stuff that makes me feel comfortable.” You said, a soft warmth washing over your face. “And if i'm being honest your beds are nowhere near satisfactory.” Smiling you sipped at the coffee that was brought to you. You peered over the rim of the mug and at Shanks who had yet to say anything. You were growing anxious. He thought you were weird didn’t he? Why’d you have to explain…

After a few agonizing moments of silence between the two of you Shanks finally let out a hearty laugh.

“That,” he tried to catch his breath through fits of giggles, “that is actually adorable!”

Your face went beat red as you turned your back to him quickly.

“Shut up, no it’s not.” You grumbled.

He leaned in closer to you this time and whispered into your ear, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“If you’re that influenced by your fruit, then I’m guessing you also mate for life, am I correct?” 

You went rigid and your gut went and twisted itself into several knots.

Mating for life was definitely an eagle trait, yet, you never actually thought about it.

Relationships were always iffy with you. Never letting anyone in too close to even raise that thought.

Your devil fruit finally came back into the light.

Chapter Text

Okay, that’s it… you’re getting off of this ship if it's the last thing you do. Ever since the first breakfast with Shanks and his crew the man had been relentless in his prodding and joking about how you acted. Better yet, how he thought you acted cause you decided to give him a minor detail about what you liked. You were more mortified than mad if you were being honest with yourself but right now you were also preoccupied with the question he had asked. Mating for life definitely was a trait brought on by your devil fruit but after thinking about it some more you were actually not opposed to having one relationship like that be the only one in  your life. Then again, how sure were you? It’s not like you had a childhood where you were able to define your own personality before the fruit was forced down your throat. 

You really needed to get off this ship though, just to fly through the skies and break through the clouds that hid the sun from the waters. After a particularly bad pulse storm the skies had remained cloudy, dark and dreary. Not optimal for you. You craved the sun and without it things got bad, like really bad. 

That place really fucked me up, huh? A rhetorical question. It did, and badly. The place of sun and paradise, what a joke. Sighing, you called upon your fruit and wings unfurled from your back. So familiar that it was second nature to you. 

As you were about to leave the ship for an hour or so you caught a crewman by the shoulder.

“Tell Shanks or anyone else in charge that I’ll be back before dinner.” Without another word you hoisted yourself into the air leaving the ship to rock back and forth in the water. 

The Red Force was barely out of the vicinity of the pulse storm. There were still lightning and strong gusts of wind that pulled you in every direction. It had been a long time since you last flew through a storm. 

There was a pulse of haki that coursed through your bones as you dodged a strike mid air. Your haki proved some use. It balanced itself against itself– command and foresight together. Maybe making that promise wasn’t the right option, but it was too late now to take it back. Now more than ever you need that reinforcement. 

I could just dissolve this command when I get back. You pondered as you broke into the heart of the clouds. It was rainy and cold, you could feel the lick of the clouds as you flew through them. Seconds passed as you still ascended through the clouds. Surprisingly it was loud. The crackle of lightning to the screaming and howling of the winds. Your eyes squinted trying to shield you from the rain. Just a little bit further and you would break through the clouds. Your wings were wet and there was a chill setting in your bones.

Higher.

Higher.

Higher.

Then blinding light made you shut your eyes. 

You halted your ascent, hovering. Your eyes were sensitive to the light having not seen it for so long. Okay, maybe not that long, but three days was a long time. 

Hissing you rubbed your eyes with your hands. When you removed them from your eyes and slowly opened them up and saw something that took your breath away.

“From seas below to heavens above…” you uttered softly, still wincing at the brightness of the scene in front of you.

You had seen every sunset and sunrise. From the east blue, to the west. From the north to the south. In Paradise and within the New World, yet none compared to the one that laid before you now.

This was the type of sunset to spark a fire that turned into a flame that would cease to burn away. It held promises and whispered words that if this road was long, you would one day return. That you would return to a place you could call home. That you would find a way. Like a coursing river following the sun you’d find a way. Like an eagle flying through a hurricane you would find a way. You would find a way . 

“Wherever I may wander, wherever I may fly. I will find my way.” Your voice was a low prayer. To the skies, seas, and heavens that surrounded you. Your heart stuttered in your chest as this realization dawned upon you. It was all just words to you when you spoke them to Izou. Maybe there was some truth but it wasn’t something you wanted to acknowledge at the time. Were you truly ready to try now? Still an uncertainty. 

You choked on your voice as you came out of your stupor. 

“Silly…” You muttered. Your voice wasn’t your own. You turned away from the golden tendrils of sunlight that caressed the horizon, painting it with strokes of saffron and amber, while wisps of rose-colored clouds dance in the embrace of a gentle breeze, their edges tinged with the blush of a delicate bloom. 

Shame had settled itself into your chest and clung to your heart.

Not yet .

It was silent above the clouds. The winds were soft and sure of itself as it moved. You moved. Wings strong and sleek catching the dying light of the setting sun.

A ripple casted itself through you. A command.

“He can’t?” You muttered as you turned and looked down. He can, and he did.

It was bubbly and sharp. It clawed its way through your bones urging you to come back to the ship.

You cursed under your breath. 

Sure you were in his care while away, that didn’t mean he had the right to command you. You were allies, you were not his subordinate.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” You muttered darkly. There was only one person who could command you. One person you would allow yourself to submit to. Any inkling you had towards this man was out the door when that sharp command whisked itself through your body.

You descended sharply. It was quick, far quicker than your ascent. Yet, it may have been that the rain had slowed to a soft pitter-patter, that the thunder had been called away to another part of the New World. Maybe it manifested itself into the rage you felt as you broke through the barrier. You saw the Red Force below, sailing languidly as if it had no care for its captain's force.

You didn’t bother to slow your descent until the very last second. Your devil fruit felt your rage and tried to cool it with other things. You shoved it out of the way and just as you were about to collide with the ship you spotted Shanks at the helm. He was staring out at the open waters in front of him. His face was calm, devoid of anything else. 

As you were about to crash into the ship you spread your wings apart and it halted your descent drastically. Your wings caught the air and you held out your feet in front of you. As you landed the ship creaked and moaned as it shook in the water. In any other case debris would have flown from your force leaving a crater behind.

“You will never use a fucking command on me again you piece of shit!” You bellowed as you stomped over to his position. Those who were on the deck stopped their meanderings and looked at you, some curious, others slightly scared, others mostly amused.

“And you will never leave my ship without notice.” He said curtly, voice deep and strong. There was a set scowl on his face as he turned to you.

You stepped back, the haki radiating from his form scared the fruit yet it didn’t hide. Strangely enough, you weren’t entirely scared. You were wary, don’t kid yourself, but there was also something else about it that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

It was your turn to scowl.

“Where do you think I was going to go? I gave my word.” Your voice was meek in comparison, yet you still bolstered your resolve. You were not going to buckle.

“We may be allies but you are on my ship. What I say goes. There is no other way around it.” He countered.

“I will not be chained to this ship. Up there is as much of my domain as is on the open seas.” you said. “I don’t want to ask for my freedom everytime I wish to roam the open air.”

“But you will.” His voice raised an octave.

“As long as I take point in this mission you are under my command. Under my name. Under me.” He pointed a finger at you, you square your shoulders. So this is what pops meant by what he said. 

No pirate in their own right, under their unspoken oath to the sea's command, would try to force an outsider under them. Even if they were allies. Even if they did work together for a brief period. When pops and Shanks worked together pops never took his freedom. It just wasn’t the way.

“You are not the man I thought you to be.” You said. You were radiating your own haki but it didn’t compare to his. Not by a long shot. Yet you tried.

“When you last saw me, I was merely a man. I am now one of the four emperors of the sea.” Shanks’ shoulders loosened, the tension from before slowly dissipating away. “If you wish to learn about me as I would love to learn about you then I welcome it with open arms. However, there is one thing I must make clear now. You will never see the open air without my say so.” With one final roar from his sharp haki you lowered your eyes. You had lost.

Conceding you turned and walked away and back to your room. 

“How do you think they’re fairing on the Red Force?” Haruta asked. He was curious but also worried for their comrade and sister. They were one of the few people who noticed their demeanor at the dinner. Along with Izou, Marco, Jozu and Ace. 

Jozu had wanted to sit with them, to make them feel as if they weren’t alone. Yet, Jiru and Vista had kept his attention for most of the dinner.

You weren’t even gone for more than a couple hours before Haruta started moaning and groaning about your absence.

Now, a week later he was accompanied by Fossa, Atmos, and Rakuyo. There were others who lingered near your doorway knowing that you weren’t behind it, yet they were just as lonesome without you near. 

“I’m sure they’re doing fine” Marco said, a huff of air escaping his mouth. Ever the calm and stoic first division commander. 

“I know they’ll do fine. That’s who they are, they will suck it up. That’s what they do. I’m more worried about what they aren’t showing.” Izou said. His voice was soft and resolute. 

“You’re right on that end. Even after ten years I still don’t quite know what they’re thinking half the time.” Haruta continued. He had removed his sabor from his belt and placed it on the table. Most of the division commanders were sitting at the table in the galley. It was shortly after lunch. Each of them feeling their own energies and silently agreeing to stay after everything was cleaned up.

“They better be feeding them well!” Thatch declared as he slammed his fist to the table.

“Their cooks do just a fine.” Marco said. 

“Why would pops even agree to such a long mission in the first place? I don’t see any reasoning behind it.” Haruta groaned once more. He had eaten a little too much and was now experiencing bloating.

“I agree, there was no need for pops to have them take this mission. It’s too long. They haven’t gone on a single mission on their own in several years.” Izou added in. He was busy cleaning his nails. A nervous gesture; they were always clean.

“Look, whatever pops knew that we didn’t was enough for him to make this decision. We can worry, but we can’t question his motives.” Marco stressed. There was a tension building in his shoulders. Instinctively he rolled them back and tried to quell the feeling in his  gut. Izou knew you the best and if he was questioning pops and worrying about you, more than normal, then Marco couldn’t help but take that on as a warning. He knew that this mission wasn’t good. Pops could have easily said no. Yet, he didn’t.

“Marco, I know you’re the right hand man of our captain but don’t tell me you can’t feel something isn’t right.” Izou asked. His full attention was drawn to the blonde. Marco didn’t answer.

“Remember that we were the ones that trained them. They’re strong.” Marco said. His face set, he steeled his emotions behind hopeful eyes. 

He had to think you were going to be okay. If not for him, then for everyone else.

Chapter Text

Time was passing by so, so, so slowly on the Red Force. After your debacle in front of his crew you had hid away in your room. You were served and fed much to your disbelief. Shanks was a contradiction to you. He was a loyal and honorable man, yet he was also driven by a fierce and unwavering ambition. You didn’t know where it came from, and you weren’t sure if it was of pure intent. However it may be you were completely unsure of him.

The extra candles you had been given were burning out. No one else had brung more. Maybe it was your que to finally leave, to venture out and seek some kind of truce between the two of you. You didn’t want the remainder of this trip to be soiled in bad memories– something that was still so new to you. To be motivated to not dwell on feelings that call a sickness within you. You let it pass through. Maybe you should have thought it through, maybe you should have acknowledged it. You didn’t. You just let it pass. 

You groaned as you rolled from the covers of your bed and planted warm feet on cold wood. Right, it was time to leave this dark room. You hesitated at the door, hand hovering over the knob; unsure.

Turn it

You walked out of the room and followed the hallways to the main deck. There were crew members scuttering about working on the ship making sure it doesn’t capsize in the turbulent waters of the morning. Some looked at you, eyes curious, while others never bothered to spare you a glance. You were grateful. The only senior officer on deck was Limejuice. You noticed how he was relatively thin compared to the rest of the officers you had met throughout the week, yet you were undoubtedly sure that beneath his coat and clothing that there was a lean and muscular figure. The Red Hair Pirates did share similar bounties amongst one another. 

You devil fruit within you bristled and you knew it wanted out. You compromised with it and you unfurled your wings from your back. You sense Limejuice’s haki radiating nervously from behind you as you glide to the front of the ship. You heard people mutter but you didn’t pay them any attention. You weren’t going to leave. You just wanted to use your wings. They flapped soundlessly behind you as you descended to the figure head. Shanks was already there.

“I thought you were going to leave again.” He said, a hint of amusement lingering between those words.

“Nope.” You replied softly. 

“Look, I want to apologize for what I said before.” Shanks continued to stare out at the seas. He wasn’t worried about the raging waters and incoming storm. He seemed almost calm.

“It’s fine, it’s your ship. I should have asked first.” you said as you steadied yourself on one of the large horns of the figurehead.

“In a few days we’ll reach the outskirts of Blackbeard's territory. Before then we’ll dock on an island to restock. If I remember correctly there is an abandoned island between the two places where we’ll make camp. From there you’ll take off and scour the territory for three days.” Shanks rubbed his hands together, maybe a nervous gesture, you weren’t sure. “There are three main quadrants I want you to check. Each quadrant is occupied by three separate islands; they're going to be large, unmissable. From my information these are the highest probability where they have made their base.”

“You said I would be doing this under the cover of night. Are there any islands nearby where I can stay during the day?” You asked. You were beginning to feel unnerved by how much information he has. 

“There are a few but the closest one, that’s unmanned, is about 10 nautical miles from each island.”

“So it’s going to be in the heart of these three large islands?” 

“Yes.”

Your stomach dropped at this detail. So you were going not only to be in enemy territory, but you were also going to be smack dab in the middle of the three main islands expected to house their base? 

“How’d you get this information?” 

“None of your concern.”

You scowled. Yet, you didn’t push further into the topic. All you were here to do was gather as much useful information and return the ship. If there was one silver lining it was your freedom to roam the open air for three uninterrupted days. 

“Now, the cooks have kept your breakfast warm. Go eat and then we’ll deliberate with the rest of the officers once you're done.” Shanks didn’t so much as give you a second glance as you hopped off the figurehead.

You sighed, at least he didn’t hold it against you. 

You were now gathered with the senior officers and their Captain in a medium sized room that housed a mapping table and other various navigation equipment. For the better half of the morning there were plans and procedures made for different types of situations that the crew may run into. Of the many plans thrown across the table only three stood out as possible complete failures. All of which ended with you captured, killed, or missing (aka killed) You deflated at those possibilities and your devil fruit flickered with anxiety within you. Your haki as well felt unsure of the whole ordeal, yet you were sent on this mission for a reason. A reason of which you were still unsure of. What was pops thinking when he agreed to this? 

“Let’s focus on solidifying our plans for the three we think are the most plausible.” Yasopp said. He had been the quietest out of everyone here. With faint orange tinted dreads he also sported a musket wrapped tightly to his back. A formidable sniper and strong haki user. 

It was known to most of the New World that the Red Haired pirates were a strong gang of pirates consisting only of haki users. 

“Alright, then let's start with the one that will get our asses beat,” Shanks said, voice tinged with a hint of concern as he looked at the map displaying the large territory that belonged to Blackbeard. “If Eagle here dies, we’ll have to worry about the wrath of Whitebeard and Blackbeard at the same time. This is a fight that we can’t take on.” Grunts of approval echoed across the room. 

“The only real solution I have for this,” Lucky Roux chimed in, his hulking figure looming beside Shanks. “Don't die!” Laughter rocked the map room and you shuffled in your spot, a tentative smile etched across your face. Sure, that was basic. Don’t die. You weren’t planning on it but the fact that Shanks didn’t quell the laughing made you think that this really was the only option. Not like they could do much, they were playing passively at this game. 

“What if Eagle is captured, we could always call on the–” Hongo was cut off by Shanks stare.

“We can’t. Not on this mission. We are the only ones able to do this and do it correctly.” Shanks' eyes swam with something that you couldn’t quite decipher. He was anxious, but he was also– forget it. You shrugged it off as his ambition, whatever that was. “I won’t lie to you guys, this is our last effort in obtaining any more information about Blackbeard. You all have felt it, whether it was an itch at the back of your mind or a primal urge to hide. Whatever he’s planning, it will shift the way pirates fight in the future.” Every senior officer grew quiet and nodded solemnly. It was common knowledge that Shanks and Blackbeard shared borders between their territories so it wasn’t uncommon for Shanks to be the first man to know what Blackbeard was up to. Or at least have some sort of vague feeling.

“Then we should be the ones to enter into his territory to carry out a rescue mission?” Hongo was irritated. Why? You couldn’t know. You had to have enough faith in yourself that this scenario wouldn’t come to light. 

“If it comes down to it, when all other resources have failed us, then yes. We will carry out a rescue mission. Eagle has three days to scout the area we have located on this map and if they don’t make it back on the morning of the fourth day then we will prepare ourselves for an insurrection into Blackbeard's territory.”

“An Insurrection? Are you mad? We wouldn’t have a snowball's chance in July to accomplish an insurrection in his domain! Not with our failing strength.” Hongo slammed his fists onto the table glaring daggers at his captain. You bristled at the outburst and lowered your head to the ground. “We would be better off sending scouts in like before and retrieve them that way.”

“And how do you suppose we find them? We have no idea where Blackbeard's base is and we only have estimates of his man power. I have done enough in the past few months and I'm done sending anyone else in. We don’t have enough time to continue sitting here in open waters.” Shanks haki was pulsating from his body in strong, chilling waves. He was furious, but it was backed by something that scared him.

“Wait,” You scowled at the ground as everything registered in your mind. “You’ve been sending in your own crew on these scouting missions?” Your voice was low, but if what was being said had any truth behind it then how many men were lost?

There was a long silent pause that settled in between each member. They all turned and shifted while uncomfortable expressions etched themselves onto their faces. You went slack-jawed. 

“How many men have you lost?” You didn’t want to ask, but the question slipped out faster than you could shut your mouth.

Shanks stood straight and a grimace plastered itself onto his face.

“We are down 3,200 men.” Limejuice spoke up. 

“3,200 men…” You echoed his answer. “How many scouting missions does that account for?” Your voice raised an octave. To be honest you really didn’t want to know. Your values as a Whitebeard pirate rose on instinct, you would never let that many men die.  

“We did what was necessary.” Shanks spoke sharply.

“And yet you still came out with nothing to show for it.” You spat. 

“I have done more for this world than you would ever know!” Shanks practically yelled. His scowl deepened as he looked at you. 

“What are you after?” You suddenly asked. You were too curious and honestly, what Shanks was doing was more than just shady. You hoped that you were wrong about him in every regard.

“I can’t say for sure. All I know is that it's not for selfish reasons.” Sh

“It’s selfish enough to sacrifice thousands of men for.”

“I regret my actions, do not patronize me!” Shanks rubbed his face as he looked away from you and out the window. “Everyone out.” He muttered as he sighed deeply. Everyone looked between each other before one after the other they left. You turned to leave but when a hand clasped your shoulder you turned around.

“Not you. We need to speak privately.” His voice was soft, unyielding to what had just occurred. Your mind wanted to say no but you were weak to the look in his red eyes. What was he thinking? You wanted to know. So, you stayed.

Once the last of his senior officers left the map room the silence returned. It was heavy and you didn’t want to be the one to break it first. You stood by the door fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your mind was eerily silent for once. Your fruit recognized it as a response to memories long lost to the past.

“For the last several months my crew has worked tirelessly to come to understand the movements of Blackbeard.” Shanks began as he stood by the window overlooking the open waters. “He has been able to keep his movements tight and inconspicuous for far too long and I’m not sure how. I don’t want you to think that I’ve forsaken my men for nothing. I regret having sent so many to their death with nothing to show for it. However, there is something that I fear may come to rise soon. Something that will tip the balance of power for this coming age of pirates.” Shanks was silent for a time, eyes still locked to the window overlooking the sea. 

“What is this power?” You asked.

“Have you heard about the devil fruit users going missing, these were no extraordinary individuals, all possessing types that are uncommon and useless in a fight.” Shanks turned to you. You shook your head.

“I haven’t been able to roam the open seas for quite some time, so my knowledge of the outer world is narrow. I try to listen to stories from my crew, they too also don’t speak very much about the happenings of other people.” You said, a hint of embarrassment edging your consciousness. 

“That’s alright little eagle. With them missing and the Marine forces bolstering themselves with more soldiers inefficient in haki usage I’m sensing something may be related to haki and devil fruits.” Despite the information there was a small smile on Shanks face. It softened his features.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“What I am about to share with you is only a speculation based on what my haki has sensed within this world. I don’t have enough information except for what I have witnessed and what my men had died for.” Shanks’ breath was shallow and wavered only slightly. 

“It can’t be that bad can it?” Your haki picked up on the wavering force of his own. He was so nervous and scared, that much was clear.

“The age of devil fruit users is coming to an end.” He muttered darkly. You froze, your breathing halting. The fruit within you stuttered and jerked itself at the information. You haki however, grew more aggressive. It licked at your consciousness and bit into it urging you to leave. To do anything in your power to stay safe.

“You can’t be serious.” your voice was barely above a whisper. 

Shanks was quiet.

Chapter Text

Everything was riding on you. Everything far beyond your original intent to protect pops and your crew. Everything was on you. The tides of war loomed on the horizon. Power was tipping over a precipice. The lives of devil fruit users were on the line. It was all on you. 

The Red Force had docked into an island port. The town was small and so was the island. Here housed only a couple hundred people, all farmers, farmers' wives and children. In any other circumstance it would have been a wonderful island to lay low and experience a normal life for once. However, Shanks had ordered his crew to remain close to the ship. Only those tasked to get the supplies needed for the next little while were permitted to enter into the marketplace. This was to keep tensions and fear low, he didn’t want to risk people running off to the Marines with word of a false threat. They didn’t need to deal with marines at a time like this. 

You found yourself sitting at the edge of the dock, feet dangling just above the water. Sea spray coated your legs and sent shivers through your body. Your devil fruit swirling within you. It was hard to process the information that Shanks gave you, information that was to be uttered to no one else. You were surprised to find that even his most trusted officer and first mate, Benn Beckman, didn’t know. He was so unsure, yet for some strange reason your intuition led you to believe the information. Your haki was sharp and more keen of your surroundings as if it were anticipating an attack from anyone. 

Your shoulder had begun to ache too. Phantom pain from the attack five years ago. You scoffed.

You can’t be serious… you muttered silently to your spirit, as if your consciousness and spirit were separate beings. Your haki roiled within you. It was above all else serious in the most desperate of times. You wanted to shrink and shrivel up into nothingness. This mission had gone far too out of control within the last few weeks. If you failed this mission you would not only (probably) die but you would leave the world dangling by a thin and fraying thread. Devil users being rendered useless? Haki was strong but if the connotation behind Shanks’ words held any value then this meant more than just haki. Something more dangerous. You couldn’t help but think back to the incident five years ago. They couldn’t have possibly made something so vile and dangerous. The world thrived on devil fruit users, the balance of power was kept level between that and haki. 

You stopped thinking about it. You couldn’t get caught up in what ifs, and potential futures. You needed to stay present. You needed to be ready.

“Seas be good…” you muttered to yourself out loud as you kicked a wave that got too high. It sent water up and into the air, the wind carrying the droplets left in the air away from you.

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and you turned and saw Shanks. The sun casted a silhouette across his body leaving him shrouded in shadow. “If you want you can send your crew a letter, I have a personal messenger that will get it to them without interference.” He said as he smiled softly at you. You felt so conflicted with this man, he wasn’t who he was when you last saw him, yet there were actions that he committed that were echoes of who he once was. You thought that being an emperor of the sea was a rather grueling task. One that drained you dry of your humanity. Emperors ruled the seas outside of those under the World Government, they kept the peace among the islands within their territory as best they could. Some never got along with each other. The stresses and worries that they carried, you could come to know about them, but you could never truly understand how that must feel. There was a part of you that wanted to give Shanks some grace for what he had to do, yet another part of you didn’t want to just yet. He’d have to prove himself worthy. 

You nodded your head as you got up. You were getting better at writing, having practiced several times a day when you weren’t busy.

“It’ll be a couple more hours before my crew gets back, so take your time.” Shanks watched as you walked away. You felt his haki try to ease your worries in soft slow and reassuring pulses. You continued to feel it as you walked onto the main deck and then under the ship. It eased you slowly and when you got to your bland room it was enough to make you sleepy. Slapping your cheeks softly you grabbed a quill and paper and started writing. The feeling was becoming more fluid, letters looked like actual letters and you were also learning new words. It filled you with a sense of accomplishment that you hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. It took the better part of the afternoon to write something that made some sense. Reading it over slowly and methodically, you found that it was finally ready. You checked and rechecked words you were unsure of and triple checked the lettering. It looked like chicken scratches but the letters were similar to the ones that were in the book. You would finesse your writing as you continued practicing. 

Taking the letter you folded it up and placed a black wax seal ensuring it was closed before leaving your room. You let out a soft pulse of haki that sought out Shanks. When you received a pulse back you instinctively knew that he was somewhere in town. Fiddling the paper between your hands you left the boat and sought him out. Technically you weren’t supposed to leave the area around the ship but you hoped that he wouldn’t mind too much. Your affiliation wasn’t displayed for others to see, you were just a regular person walking through the streets.

As you walked past the decks and weaved your way through alleyways you pondered the scenarios that were possible while away from the ship. Death was a high probability, but so was being captured. You were more worried about the latter. Would you have the resolve to remain resolute in such a situation? Would you even have the chance to escape without losing your life? Did they even want to keep you alive if they did capture you? All these questions flooded your mind as you turned into the marketplace. It was filled with many people wandering and mingling about. You scanned from the edge and soon found the redhead on the other side. You quickly moved your way through the crowd and soon were in front of the captain.

“I didn’t know you had conquerors haki.” Shanks stated softly to you. This was teh first thing out of his mouth when you arrived and it took you aback a little bit.

“I wouldn't say that,” you laughed nervously. You had a strong spirit, the commanders of the Whitebeard pirates told you so, but you wouldn’t go as far to say it was a conquerors haki type level.

“You sure? You were able to send a command, you asked where I was, did you not?” He said as he continued through the market. 

“Hm, yeah I’m pretty sure.” You were more than sure you didn’t have conqueror's haki. You couldn’t stop whole armies with just a command, you couldn’t command people like pops or Shanks. You just couldn't. You were subordinate.

“Ah, well anyways little eagle, did you finish your letter?” He asked as he looked down at you.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure who your messenger was so I thought I’d bring it to you.” You replied as you handed him the letter.

“That’s a secret, to help keep Marines and other pirates from interfering with our communication.” Your mouth made an ‘O’ as you nodded your head in understanding. That was actually smart. Why didn’t pops have something like that? 

“Was it a particularly long message?” he asked after some silence.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment as you looked away from him. “Not really…” You really didn’t want to tell him you’re a shitty writer.

“Was it something personal?” He side-eyed you as he handed a vendor some berry. You went slack-jawed at his implication and shook your head vigorously.

“N-no nothing like that,” you paused, you needed to save yourself from the embarrassment, “I can’t write.” You muttered softly.

“What was that?” He asked as he leaned closer to you. You scoffed and choked on your words. Wow, this was awkward.

“I said, I don’t know how to write.” You said curtly. 

“Oh I see, nothing wrong with that. Most of my men don’t know how to write either.” He said, a soft smile coming back to his face. You noticed how different his face changed when he scowled to when he smiled. 

“Also, why do you call me little eagle?” You asked suddenly. It was new, and you hadn’t heard anyone else call you that name, not even back on the Moby.

“Because I like it, the senior officers like it too.” He said nonchalantly as you walked through the market languidly. You follow close behind.

“Oh okay.” 

“Why? You don’t like it?” He followed up.

You thought about it for a second. It was unique. So, maybe you did.

“Yeah, I don’t mind it.” This was your final response.

“Okay, well I’m going to finish up here, you head back and we'll take off to the island.” Shanks patted you on the back and was off into the crowd sooner than you could say ‘bye’. Turning you walked back to the ship. It wasn’t long until you’d take your leave of the crew and head into enemy territory. 

Most of the crew had made it back on shore. You guessed that there were just over 500 souls on board, most of them all high ranking officials amongst the Red Haired Pirates. You were unsure of how many other ships Shanks had under him. Pops not only have three main ships under his command with a slew of allied ships at his disposal as well. Probably one of the larger grand fleets aside from the Marines. 

You hadn’t made many friends while on board but you also weren’t really eager to form any. After the debacle some found it better to just ignore you entirely. You tried to not take it too personally but sometimes it would poke at the back of your mind. Thankfully you had just over a month left with them. It was heading into the fourth week of your travels and you were aching to head home. 

There wasn’t much to do on The Red Force. You helped where you could and offered to even take over some people’s chores, all declined. For the most part you had been spending time alone or with Shanks. 

You never really talked about anything important. Just little things, like favorite islands or favorite fights. 

He had told you of a story where he met the young boy, the one with the thirty million berry bounty, that he was the one to carry his straw hat and return it to him when he reached the New World. You thought it was a strange thing to give a young pirate, but Shanks seemed so excited about the prospect of finally meeting the boy he had inspired so many years ago. 

You wondered how his journey was fairing, you hadn’t read a news coo in awhile. He possessed a devil fruit much like yourself which made you feel partial to Shanks feelings. Not to mention the potential threat looming on the horizon. He was just a kid. You didn’t want him to have his most powerful asset taken from him. 

You had found yourself puttering about in the kitchen putting away the vegetables that the market crew were able to get. The kitchen was relatively the same as the one Moby, yet these cooks certainly had a different layout than the one Thatch had crafted over the years. You could point out where bodies could potentially collide with one another because of where certain things were placed. In Thatch’s kitchen there was a flow, however, maybe they didn’t mind the disorganization to their kitchen.

As the night crawled across the sky you remained silent. Your mind was running but with nothing important. It was just nonsense. Strangely enough your devil fruit too was silent, you assumed it felt the looming danger and wanted to hide itself away. 

Dinner was rather eventful, you drank with the others and probably had consumed more than you needed but it helped ease away the tension that was building within you. 

You were going to be okay. You had to be. The outcome of the future for devil fruit users hung precariously in the air. This mission and what you were able to gather would determine if the thread was cut.

You were thankful that you had made that promise to pops before this mission. Without it you guessed that your resolve would have crumbled into a million pieces before your eyes. 

I will do anything within my own right to stay safe from here on out– no matter what.

I will do anything within my own right to stay safe from here on out– no matter what.

I will do anything within my own right to stay safe from here on out– no matter what.

You repeated this in your head like a mantra. You repeated it late into the evening when sleep wouldn’t take you under. 

You will make it back to the Moby, safe and with important knowledge. Knowledge that pops needed to know, that your crew needed to know. They needed to prepare.

“When you return to your crew, you need to prepare for a full frontal assault on the Blackbeard Pirates, you got that little eagle?” Shanks had told you during dinner. You nodded, it was a command. The familiar hint to his haki coursing through your bones. You respected him, but even if you didn’t his haki was so strong that you really couldn’t ignore it. 

I can do this.

You fell into a deep and quiet slumber.

Chapter Text

Crouching in a tree  branch your eyes scanned the horizon in front of you. Out there laid the territory governed by Blackbeard himself. You had only heard tales of his crimes and adventures through whispers among the townspeople and through your own crew. Yet, it was as if no one really wanted to acknowledge his presence. That he was a bad dream ready to be forgotten when the dawn came. You groaned, you really were in the midst of a big pile of shit. 

How the fuck did I end up here of all places? You thought as you let your wings bask in the sun poking through the trees. A direct order from Shanks had told you never to leave the ground, that your presence here was to be a complete surprise. So, you tucked yourself into the tree line making sure to keep hidden. The ship wasn’t that far off having docked the opposite side of the island. 

It was quiet and eerily enough you also were strangely calm as well. The nerves had subsided and you were left with a clear head. The sun was setting and once darkness shrouded the land you were to be sent off. Your mission is close to beginning. Pulling your wings close to your body you turned around and jumped from the branch gliding silently to the ground. Once your feet landed on the soft grassy ground your wings disappeared back into your back. 

The chirping of the birds on the island kept you company as you walked through the forest. You made your way back to the other side where the crew was waiting. There was no fire and there was no whooping and hollering, dead silence from probably the rowdiest crew known on this side of the Grandline.

As you walked through the forest there were several ponds that were scattered between bushes and medium sized trees. There were hardly any animals worth a kill, mostly lizards and amphibian types. The sun that was poking between the trees made the place ethereal, as if it weren’t really a part of the real world and a part of something entirely different. 

You reached the other side of the island and saw that Lucky Roux, Yasopp, and Limejuice were holding three different sections of the island. Lucky roux was holding the North-west, while Yasopp was holding the South-east, and Limejuice the North-east. 

“There you are.” Lucky roux noted as he spotted you coming out from the tree line.

“Here I am.” You drawled. 

“You ready?” Yasopp asked, his face was stone cold, a trait you rarely saw while aboard the ship the past few weeks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You replied as you dropped to the ground, running your hands through the sandy ground. It was still warm from the sun during the day. Looking up you saw hues of dark blue, and orange. 

“I trust your commanders have taught you well, they sure talked about you alot while at that dinner.” Limejuice added on, a faint smile on his lips. He was more amicable than the rest. 

“Hm, yeah, they did a pretty good job. Five years under their scrutinizing gazes and hard lessons really beats the warrior into you.” You laughed a little at the hours upon hours of hard work they put you through. 

“Just do what you can, and remember that if you don’t show up on the fourth day we’ll come get you.” Limejuice continued as you walked away from his post. There was hardly anything out on the horizon worth worrying about. 

“You guys really want to start a way with Blackbeard?” You asked, any way you looked at it, if you were caught there was no way they were going to be able to go into his territory and get you without some sort of fight.

“War is coming whether we like it or not. Shanks is pretty worried about this, it also weighs heavily on our consciousness too.” He said.

“You guys are weird.” You said, it was more of a thought you should have kept to yourself but it slipped out.

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We’re the only crew of the Four Emperors that have no devil fruit users, so why do we care so much?” It was a rhetorical question followed by a scoff. 

“Does it bother you? I mean, I get you’re all strong, but doesn’t it put you at a severe disadvantage?” You asked.

“In a way it does, but we’ve also worked our asses off to make our haki just as strong as any devil fruit user. So, I say it all equals out in the end–” Limejuice paused, a small smile spreading across his face, “It also helps that our captain has probably one of the strongest conqueror's haki.” A glint of admiration crossed his face.

“He is something that’s for sure.” Your voice trailed off. 

“Can I ask you something, I don’t know if you’ll have the answer but I have to ask.” You looked at the sand, so many grains moving through your fingers.

“Sure.” Limejuice leaned against a tree looking at the horizon.

“Shanks said that it was possible for me to have conqueror's haki, how does one figure that out?” You waited and waited and waited. Limejuice still hadn’t answered.

“That’s a hard question to answer. Each individual is different. For Shanks it was the pure force of his haki that made others immediately take notice. It’s something that occurs every once in a while amongst a few individuals in each generation.” Limejuice said, his face set in a focused scowl. He was pulling information from books and stories he has heard throughout his time with Shanks.

“So it’s kinda just wait and figure it out kinda thing?” You furthered.

“For the most part yeah, if you do I guess it’s pretty weak considering Shanks doesn’t feel threatened by it.” Limejuice noted as he looked at you thoughtfully.

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better…” You joked as you laid in the sand. “Why would it be weak though? I thought this type of haki was supposed to be stronger than the rest?” You couldn’t help but continue to ask.

“I’m not too sure, we haven’t had anyone within the last several years to have a weak conqueror's haki, if at all.”

“But if you had to guess?”

“Haki is about the spirit and how strong someone's spirit and ambition is, so maybe a weak spirit could be a factor? I’m not too sure though.” Limejuice crossed his arms and looked down at the ground. Now you had got him thinking about the possibilities of people having conqueror's haki without even noticing it because of their weak spirit.

“But you can train it can’t you?” You inquired again. 

Limejuice exhaled and moved from the tree. “Look kid, you ask a lot of questions.” He began to walk away but stopped. “But yes, it could be possible to train such a force of power, as with all things.” WIthout another word Limejuice walked back to his post.

Night had long since scared away the light of the sun. Shanks, the senior officers and yourself had been going over the main plan endlessly for the last hour or so trying to find any holes. 

“You’ll have three to four hours to infiltrate the air above each island. I am hoping that with your exceptional vision you’ll be able to spot weak points, points of entry, and points that are heavily guarded. Anything else outside of those three requirements are bonus. Just don’t go out of your way to find them, okay?” Shanks gave you a hard look as if he knew what you were thinking. 

Okay so maybe you were thinking about going above and beyond, but it's not like you would actually do anything. You had your promise and the command of an emperor to steer you clear of any potentially hazardous scenarios.

“I need an answer, little eagle…” Shanks said sternly.

“Yes sir.” You saluted him mockingly but he got the gist of your word. Whether he showed it or not was completely up to him. You would seek out the three mandatory specifics and anything else was a bonus.

“That leaves me with around five hours of flight time. It’s not long but what should I expect for food. Cause y’see if you haven't met Ace before–” Lucky roux cut you off.

“We’ve met Fire Fist Ace before, kid eats like an endless void.” He commented with a laugh.

“Yeah, exactly… Is there any food on this island?” You asked. Your devil fruit at high altitudes and long run times uses a lot of your stamina and energy just to keep you in the air and at a moderate temperature.

“Ideally I would love for you to set out three hours after sunset and arrive three hours before sunrise. That leaves you with around an hour to hunt and fish for food with optimal coverage. Can you do that?” Shanks leaned forward, hands placed on the make-shift table.

“I can do what I can.” You said. You weren’t sure what you would find on the island. You loved fish and you could satiate your hunger right before you left and right after you came back. An hour really only left you with 30 minutes after sunset and before dawn. “Sleeping for 12 hours will help cut down on energy usage.” You added on as you thought about your tightly knit schedule. “But I have to say Shanks, you making run a tight schedule.” You laughed nervously, to be frank, you didn’t think there was enough time to get food seeing as traveling distance between islands would take around 30 minutes. Whatever, you’d make it work.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I think that this is the safest option that we can go with given when we know and the resources that we have.” A grim line set across his mouth as he looked at you. He was sorry, but you could feel that he was willing to make these sacrifices– if his lost men weren’t an indication of the lengths he would go.

“Right, well I should get going then,” you paused checking your imaginary watch, “seeing as I have my first flight soon.” You unfurled your wings and stepped back from the make-shift table. Shanks smiled. 

Shanks clapped his hands together and stood up straight. “Alright, guess we should let you go!” He was so happy and cheerful all of a sudden it made you raise your brow. The other officers looked from one another all wearing faces of concern for their captain. Shanks rounded the table to before you knew it he was pulling you into a tight and warm hug, his haki was soft and warm, pulsing through you. Any tension in your body left you and it felt like you were melting into his chest.

“What the–” You muttered, taken aback by the sudden embrace. Then, as if all air escaped your body you tensed up again. You shimmied quickly out of his embrace and took a step back. “Sorry, um–” your head was blank, no words coming out of your mouth. Shanks looked at you funny but didn’t pry into it. 

“It’s fine, just be careful.” His smile was soft and endearing. 

“Yeah, thanks. Um, see you in three days.” Before you knew it you had taken off in a burst of strength. The air around the crew left their hair wild and in disarray.

“They really are strong.” Limejuice muttered, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. The words that the two crews shared over dinner about you were true. The constraint training among the top brass of the Whitebeard Crew definitely made you a more formidable opponent then someone who just trained by themselves.

As you ascended into the air you heart beat quickly in your chest. What the hell was wrong with you. It was just a hug. However, it just wasn’t a hug, the slow steady pulse of haki that washed through your body and eased every tense muscle sent a wave of something unknown through you. Never in you life had anyone just done something like that. It threw you for a loop. 

To be honest, you felt kinda bad about leaving so suddenly but what the hell were you supposed to do? It’s not like life prepared you for something so sudden and strong. 

You looked back and the island that the Red Force had made its home for the next few days slowly shrunk as you flew higher and higher into the air. 

“Stupid asshole…” you muttered. There was no anger, but just a sense of insecurity that wrapped itself around you. Hugs, no, that really wasn’t a hug, it was something. Something that you never had before. Cerulean and deep cobalt colors flashed in your mind as you made your way towards Blackbeard's territory. 

“I can’t get distracted now, it was just a fucking hug. Nothing else.” You grumbled as you locked away your feelings, something so familiar, and focused all of your attention on the horizon in front of you. However, as hard as you tried to lock away your own feelings your fruit lingered and emitted its own feelings. It frustrated you as it felt bittersweet, and tangy. Like it was displeased.

“Trust me, it was as weird for me as it was for you okay…” You muttered out loud. Having agreed to your statement your fruit returned to expending energy to keep you warm at such high altitudes. 

For the next few hours you would be alone in the sky. You were also going to be alone with your thoughts. Great, just great.

Chapter Text

Flying just below the cloud barrier that had settled over the sky you kept an eye out for large islands. You knew you were close to the island. As you kept a steady in the air your eyes spotted a tiny island off in the horizon. 

“That is definitely the place.” You muttered. It was tiny, but as you drew closer it slowly got bigger and bigger and bigger. Shit, this island was huge. Could you even call it an island at this point?

You ascended higher into the air, hiding yourself in the clouds. You could still faintly see the island below and with your eagle sight as it allowed you to enhance your own vision. It was as if you weren’t under the cover of the clouds. 

You were in your full beast form as your body roamed over the top of the island. As your eyes roamed the beaches you found nothing but sandy shores and calm waves. Nothing yet was out of the ordinary for this island. You followed a flight pattern making sure to move up and down the length of the beach making sure to keep your eyes always on the move. You had learned from literally everyone on the ship that if you focused too long on one thing while searching then everything else will become blind to the eye. Having things in your vision always moving kept your mind alert and ready to spot anything that looked out of the ordinary. 

Once you made it to the edge of the island you turned your position and moved further inland and worked your way back to the opposite side. You would follow this pattern until you reach the furthest side of the island. If you did spot something you would circle it searching for weak points, points of entry, and reinforced points. 

Anything else is a bonus. You reminded yourself as you continued to work your way through the island. So far there was nothing that caught your eye. You wished you could use your haki to pick up on hidden things in the foliage of the island but that would give your position away so you had to solely rely on your eyesight.

Line after line of surveying the land you had yet to pick up on anything. There were parts of the forest that were clear of any trees but it all looked like it was natural and not man made. You had probably made around twenty-five passes within the last hour and you were still nowhere near the other side of the island.

Fucking seas below, this island is huge. You thought as you continued to swivel your head. You had descended a little lower to the ground as the clouds grew thicker. Thankfully, with the added coverage your silhouette wasn’t highlighted by the moon. You were in complete and utter darkness.

As you came closer to a mountain that laid squarely in the center of your current trajectory you decided to ascend above the clouds to get over it. The tip itself was nearly skimming the lowest cloud barrier. 

Not optimal, but I can’t break the pattern just to get around it . 

Breaking through the clouds your eyes widened in awe at the scene in front of you. The clouds had grown thickening and the fluffy puffs that poked like bubbles across the top looked stunning under the moonlight. There were breaks in the sky which allowed some moon light to scatter to the island below.

Once you are sure you are over the mountain you begin your descent to the world below. As you entered into the heart of the clouds you noticed a sudden drop in temperature that wasn’t there before. You instinctively shuttered at the sudden drop as your fruit used more of your energy to try and keep you warm. Your feathers that coated your body helped ease away the coldness as your temperature rose. 

Where the hell did this snow come from? You wondered as you continued on your trajectory across the island. The snow itself was soft and floated through the air being carried by the soft winds. You paid no mind to it as it wasn’t a weather concern. The weather in the New World was always unpredictable so unless it actually impeded your journey then you would continue to move forwards as planned.

Through the snow you were able to make it through another half hour, you saw the speckle of moonlight hitting water on the horizon. You were getting close to finishing off this island. Luckily you had been unable to find any buildings that would allude to any base the Blackbeard pirates may be at. 

As you moved swiftly through the air the snow was beginning to pick you. You were starting to get worried about the thickness of it as it stopped you from being able to sense anything from coming. You grew more tense as you slowly got closer and closer to the other side of the island. It was there then that you saw it, in the distance, a metallic reflection of a building. As you moved closer, forgetting the pattern you saw that there was indeed a building, and a large one at that carved into the side of a mountain ledge. 

This wasn’t good, if it was housed within a mountain then there surely wouldn’t be many weak spots you could seek out. That also limited the amount of entry points as well. This wasn’t looking like it was going to be a fun raid later on. As you got closer you realized that the building had no signs of life either. It wasn’t abandoned was it? You so desperately wanted to send out a wave of haki to observe it from here, your eyes could only get you so far. You were tempted because the swelling uncertainty in your gut told you otherwise. 

I can’t just go off of a gut feeling though, that gets people killed. You mulled over in your head. You had begun to circle the facility. The mountain was fairly large and by that you could guess the facility also went several feet below the surface as well. 

You completed one circle around the facility and found only one point of entry. The main gate, which was heavily guarded.

This can’t be the only point of entry… you thought. A wave of haki licked at your bones as you thought about descending closer to get a better look at the rear end of the mountain. There had to be more than just one point of entry. What kind of villain would build a hideout and not have a few escape routes planned incase of an attack?

As you came to a close of your second round of the mountain, still coming up with nothing else that would be useful you decided that you would descend closer. This way you would be able to see if there were any hidden entrances amongst the dense foliage. Tucking your wings close to your body your eagle form descended closer to the mountain. Your previous two rounds had indicated that there were no manned posts outside. You also couldn’t spot any surveillance den den mushi in any key points. You thanked Izou briefly as you descended. Without his help on stealth tactics you wouldn’t have known which areas of a basic facility would house surveillance den den mushi.

As you got closer the lick of haki turned into a bite but you ignored it. Your own command wouldn’t dissuade you from getting as much information as possible.

C’mon, one for round before I call it quits . You begged yourself as you spread out your wings and set back into a glide that rounded the entirety of the mountain once more.

The closer you were the better it was for seeing any tell-tale signs of entry points. Irregular, meaning straighter than normal, lines etched into the surface of the ground. Potential points for hidden entryways. You also kept an eye out for flat foliage, another sign of hidden entry points. Even caves were a must amongst mountain ranges. They could be empty and hold nothing but they also could be hidden entryways as well. There were many signs you needed to keep an eye out for and having the advantage of great sight helped a lot. 

As you swung around the mountain you finally spotted one entry point. It was disguised as a flat foliage, its true giveaway was the window plastered onto its door. 

Who the fucks puts a window on a hidden entrance? You wanted to snicker but couldn’t, birds couldn’t do that. For the next couple of seconds you were amused at the thought. 

Along came another hidden entrance way. However, this one was more obvious. Its metallic doorway had been painted green but nothing else was done to it.

Well, this time at Least this one didn’t have a window on it… You thought sarcastically.

As you continued to make your way around the mountain you were able to spot two other entry ways into the mountain. As you came back around to the main entrance you noticed that the braziers that were unlit before were now blazing. Your heart raced in your chest as you ascended back into the air, making sure to not be too quick about it, you wanted to be far out of sight. You couldn’t risk getting spotted now. 

The snow that was coming down in clumps began to swirl and whip past your body as you ascended. It was about time for you to head to the island. The weather was becoming dangerous and you didn’t quite feel like getting caught up in a blizzard. As you reached the barrier of the clouds you looked back once more. The braziers were still lit but it didn’t look like anyone or anything had come out yet. All you knew is that there were people in the facility and that it wasn’t abandoned. 

Flying into the clouds for coverage you headed towards the island. However, as you flew through the dense clouds your haki was licking at every surface below your skin. You were beginning to feel tense. There shouldn’t be anyone else within your proximity. Shoving the sensation to the back of your mind you focused on leaving the island. It didn’t stop though, more so, your own devil fruit was stirring inside you as well. There was a feeling of hunger but it was quickly overridden by a strong wave of fear. 

Stay calm, we’re okay. I’m okay. You tried to reassure yourself as you continued to fly through the dense clouds. While this cover was perfect for staying undetected by enemy foes you were also at a disadvantage, you couldn’t see where they were either. It was a win-lose situation.

Remembering Izou’s training you made sure to change your flight pattern just in case there was a marksman out in the field. You would hold this pattern, changing slightly every so often as to not give the sniper a chance to get a hold of you. So far you were safe amongst the clouds, your haki and devil fruit were tearing you apart on the inside but you could deal with it as long as whatever was out there was unable to see you. You kept a strong hold over your haki making you near invisible. However, you’d be screwed if anyone who was keeping an eye out on the sky used their haki to scout you out. You just hoped that they weren’t smart enough for that.

Continuing through the clouds you slowly started to ease up the tension that was building in your chest. While maintaining an irregular flight you made sure to catch gusts of wind when you could. You were getting tired. This was probably the longest you’ve ever spent in your full eagle form. You were not used to it.

You hadn’t felt this on edge ever since you made it out of Paradise. It was such a strange feeling that you regarded it with a stiff lip. 

From the corner of your eye you saw a swift gray shadow slip by you quickly out of the corner of your eye. You haki and devil fruit this time we're back into their frenzy. You trusted that fear and kept an eye out for anything else. You were still skeptical about using haki now. You were hoping that you were still hidden amongst the dense clouds and growing flurries. 

Continuing to fly you waited to see if the shadow reappeared. After seconds turned into minutes you were sure it was just a figment of your imagination. Yet, your instincts and devil fruit told you otherwise. You were deeply tempted to send a wave of haki out from you, nothing fancy, but just enough to get some intel.

The gray shadow figure flew by you this time, mere feet in front of you. You halted and held your breath. You hovered in the air for a split second before you moved forwards cautiously. Everything within you was screaming, the only calm facade was your neutral expression that you fought tooth and nail to keep on. 

Then you felt it, a short, jittery and sour wave of haki coming from your left. Someone was with you, and they could fly.

Fucking bullshit . You changed into your half hybrid, wings unfurling from your back, and kept a wary eye out for anyone in the clouds with you. You really didn’t want to fight, but there was a slim, slim, slim chance they didn't see you. You hoped for that chance. 

As you turned around a force descended from above and a sharp pain scratched itself across your shoulder blade and through your right wing. You didn’t even get to see who it was before a wave of nausea overcame you. As soon as it came it left and you whipped yourself around frantically looking for who the hell that was. You had no choice so you sent out your own wave of haki to locate the person but nothing came back.

What the hell.  

You decided to fly above the barrier of clouds. At least this way you had a shot at seeing who they were. As you broke the barrier you looked around, above and below you to see where this person was, yet you couldn’t find anything. You even let out another wave of haki to see if they would be picked up again.

The flurries were no longer a factor above the clouds so being able to sense something wasn’t skewed. Where the hell were they? They wouldn’t have disappeared just after one hit. 

Your haki then immediately alerted you to an oncoming force from below. You braced for impact with armament, yet all that came was a gust of flurries. You watched as it swirled and danced in the air. Something wasn’t right. As the swirls of snow floated through the air they ended up circling around you. Snow didn’t do this.

You moved away from the cluster of snow and as you did a head formed from it. A devil fruit user. 

The person giggled and fixed the glasses on their face as they eyed you like prey. “I was hoping for something more entertaining.” The dulcet tone of their voice was carried away by the wind. Before you could even respond the nausea you felt before came back harsher and more violent. You choked and sputtered as you slowly began to lose feeling in your back. It spreads from your shoulders to your forearms and down past your elbows reaching your fingertips. With each passing second you lose strength and control over your wings.

“What the hell did you do?” You coughed out as you started to fall. Your wings were useless to you now.

Why aren’t they working? The question rang in your head as you disappeared into the clouds. Why wasn’t your devil fruit responding?

Don’t tell me– You didn’t even want to finish off the sentence. There was one thing that could nullify a devil fruit user. Yet as you scanned your body you couldn’t find any trace of seastone prism on you. Your wings hadn’t disappeared, you tried searching for your fruit but it was nowhere to be felt. Your heart began to race as your haki scratched at your bones and bit into your flesh. Everything was going haywire. What was this sensation? 

You broke through the clouds and you saw that you were above water. You were falling from an unimaginable height and you were going to slam straight into water. You tried to gain control of your wings but everything you tried wasn’t working. You screamed as you felt your promise tear through you. Why aren’t my wings working? Your mind was in a panic and each second you fell you were closer to slamming straight into the water. Your journey is going to end. 

Not like this please, I don’t want to die!  

The water was growing nearer and nearer; it was only a matter of seconds before you hit the water. Your haki was frantic and it begged for you to live, it begged for you to keep your promise. To do anything within your own right to stay safe from here on out– no matter what. In the last second right before you made impact with the water your haki sealed you in a strong layer of armament. It didn’t diminish the pain, but it kept you from exploding into a million little pieces. As soon as you sunk below the surface the armament that surrounded your body disappeared. You looked up and saw the underside of the sea. Another wave of fear coursed through your body as you quickly tried to drag yourself to the surface. You wings were heavy and the only thought running through your head was:

The sea . It raged inside your head. 

As a devil fruit user it was common knowledge that those who wanted power would give up their ability to swim. You couldn't swim. You were a devil fruit user. You were going to sink to the bottom of the sea. Yet as you clawed your way to the surface you found yourself slowly closing the gap between sea and open air. You were fighting for your right to live. You needed to keep your promise so you kept on clawing the water fighting against the weight of your wings.

The air in your lungs was running low and fast. You frantic and clawing hands were the first to break the tension of the surface. Soon after your face came above and you gasped for air. You kept on coughing and trying to catch your breath. Your mind wasn’t working, it was in survival mode. 

Finally finding a rhythm to the chaos your mind caught up to the mess that you were in and the first thing that popped into your head was that fact you were swimming.

“I-I can swim?” your voice panicked as you continued to swivel in the water. Your wings were so heavy. Yet, as the truth settled into your bones you repeated it again, more assuredly this time. “I can swim!” You let out a pained laugh as you breathed deeply. How long had it been since you were able to swim in the open seas?

You shouldn't be able to swim.

“Fuck, why can I swim?!” Your voice was shrill as your mind started playing the worse case scenario. This wasn’t in the plan. This was not a part of the plan. As you continued to claw the water you heard a ship in the distance. It was coming right towards you.

You failed your mission and you were about to be taken hostage. With no devil fruit and average haki at best you were shit out of luck.

You barely were able to get any information.

You were a failure.

A miserable failure.

You deserved to die.

I deserve to die. What kind of piece of trash like me deserves to live. I'm so fucking worthless that it's laughable. I should've killed myself all those years ago.

Chapter Text

Marco’s POV

—

It had been a month since you had left the Moby and set out on your first mission. All of the commanders on the ship were feeling a mixture of excitement and concern. They trusted that their training would be more than sufficient for this mission. Izou had been ranting to Haruta for the better half of the month and Haruta had somehow managed to keep the commander from tearing apart his hands. Jozu and Fossa were silent as ever but their haki was radiating off of them in short quick pulses. Marco had to remind them to keep their haki controlled several times throughout the month as it was beginning to make everyone else on board nervous as well..

The only person that didn’t seem worried was Marco. He was his usual stoic self as he continued to take care of the heavy workload that came with his title. 

While you were away Whitebeard had made sure to assign missions to each division. Marco guessed that he was worried, either for your sake or the sake of the Red haired captain. Either way he looked at the current situation. Whitebeard was waiting for something. Any news coo that came aboard the ship Whitebeard was the first to know and the first to send a crew member to grab the paper. 

It was two weeks after you had left the ship when Marco felt the familiar twang of Whitebeard's command ripple across the ship. Everyone could feel the ripple wash across the ship but only there was only one person that would feel the twang within their own bones. Using the papers that he had bought back in the last town they had stopped at he was writing up a report on the financial spendings of the crew and what was left in reserve. One Hundred-thousand berries were in reserve and this was considerably low for a crew of their size. Marco had made sure to write down the numbers and track back the berries that were spent over the last four weeks. It was about time that the crew took on more serious missions to stock up their berry supply. As he finished writing down the last few numbers he heeded the call of his captain and went above to the main deck.

The place was quiet. With Ace out on another mission and you out on your own adventure there was no one around to cause mayhem. Thatch was too busy making up meal plans to even think about getting some of his subordinates to partake in his little pranks. It was just too quiet. Marco hummed to himself as he opened the door to the main deck. The light blinded his eyes as he used his arm to shield himself from the bright mid-day sun. 

Turning, he saw his captain sitting up on the upper part of the main deck towards the back of the ship. 

“You called-yoi?” He said as he shoved his hands in his pocket. Tired eyes looking at his captain waiting patiently.

“Yes, I want you to give this letter to the bird.” Whitebeard had handed Marco the letter that was folded neatly and sealed with a white wax seal that had the symbol of the Whitebeard pirates embossed on it. “I also have a letter that is addressed to the crew, once you’re finished reading it, hand it around.” Whitebeard handed the letter that had your purple embossed symbol on it. He raised his brow but took the letter nonetheless. 

“When did we get this-yoi?” He asked. It was rare to ever get a letter from you, even before the incident. A spark of hope lit within him as he unfurled the open letter.

“Just now, it seems that everything is going well.” Whitebeard hummed as he leaned back in his chair, eyes looking to the ship as his halburd laid across his lap.

As Marco read the letter a small smile spread across his face. The letter was certainly written by you, haphazard lettering, jagged lines, and misspelled words that were crossed out and replaced. Yet, even though the letter was unreadable to anyone else who didn’t know you he could still read it. You regaled about your time on the Red Force and made a particular note on the way Shanks ran his crew. You wrote about your worries but thanked everyone who had helped you in training over the last five years. In all, this message was just something to let them know that you were doing okay. 

“They’re getting better-yoi.” Marco mused as he folded the letter up and stuffed it into his jacket.

“They are indeed.” Whitebeard said with a small knowing smile playing on his lips. Marco didn’t say anything but rather turned the conversation to his recent report.

“About out financial spending, I think it would be good if you let some of the commanders take on more high-ranking missions. Our reserve is getting low.” Marco stated, his tone shifting to a more professional tone.

“I see, I suppose our dinner with Shanks really dried us out.” Whitebeard commented.

“That is one of the main reasons.” Marco agreed. “We also haven’t been on any real missions for a couple of months now, the salaries are another major source-yoi.” He added on.

“You have my permission to seek out high-ranking missions.” Whitebeard said, “It’s about time we collected our quarterly tariffs as well so look into that.”

Marco nodded and went back to his room to continue his work. 

It was the morning of the fourth week of your departure and Marco had grown steadily weary. His devil fruit had been more active than usual and resulted in more energy consumed than what he was originally used to. He didn’t pay much mind to it for the first few days but as he was walking to the galley he wondered why his fruit was acting strangely. He knew his fruit more than anyone else having had it since he was a child. This was new though. It was worried, or scared, or maybe envious. Whatever it was it made him feel emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. It slowly built up within him over the last few days and it felt like today was going to be the point where the lid pops off. He was irritated. 

Finding his spot at the head table in the galley he found himself sitting beside Izou. Half of the other commanders were out on missions collecting bounties and providing labor where they could. Anything for some berries. 

The galley was pretty much empty. He sighed as his devil fruit heated him up to abnormal temperatures.

“You look a little out of it, you alright?” Izou asked quietly, leaning closer so that no one would hear their conversation.

“I’m doing fine-yoi.” He stated as he folded his arms and suppressed his devil fruit. He couldn’t worry about it. Whatever it was, it would come to pass.

“Are you sure, cause you’re making me sweat…” Izou raised a thin brow at the phoenix as if urging him to spill.

“It’s acting up and I don’t know why-yoi.” He muttered as a plate was placed in front of him. Eggs, sausage and toast were on the menu for today, something he was grateful for. Marco had imprints of each person who possessed a devil fruit on the ship, each unique to the person they were possessed by. Ace was hot and red while Jozu was sharp and clear, yours was soft and deep brown. He wasn’t sure if anyone else had the ability to keep imprints on others but he didn’t want to let his secret out. It was an asset that allowed him to know who was who without seeing them. He had known for a long time that his fruit favored yours above everyone else as it was the most vivid to him. There were many guesses as to why this was the case and he had summed it down to just two over the last several years: you both held avian zoan type fruits, or the phoenix had chosen it as its pair. 

Finding someone wasn’t a part of his things to accomplish in this lifetime but given he was more attuned with you than anyone else made him think that maybe, somehow, the phoenix was yearning for something more than just fighting and slaving away at paperwork. Another fwhip from his fruit made him groan.

“Do you have any guesses?” Izou continued.

“A few, but I don’t want to get into them right now-yoi.” It was true, he didn’t. Yet, his fruit continued to urge him to think about it. It took a great amount of strength for him to quell his fruit before it quieted down. 

The table was quiet as both Izou and Marco ate their breakfast. Marco could feel Izou’s eyes on him and begged him to look away. 

“Does it happen to be about them?” Izou muttered, eyebrows raised in a curious gesture. “Cause Thatch was telling me about your out-” Izou was cut off by Marco giving him a solid glare. “Okay, nevermind.” a soft chuckle rumbled in Izou’s chest as he continued on with his breakfast. Silence fell between them once more. When Marco downed his last sausage he got up from the table and took his plate but before he stepped away he muttered out, “It might be.”

Izou stared at the blonde as he walked away from the table. Now, this was something he wasn’t actually expecting the stoic first commander to admit. Granted they were brothers and he probably should have known but he didn’t want to be too sure in his assumptions. A devious smile spread across his lips as he continued on with his breakfast. Now if only you were on the same boat.

Evening fell and Marco was out in the crows nest taking night watch. His devil fruit was acting up again except this time it was more fearful than anything else. It didn’t allow him to sleep, after a while its anxious behavior had slipped into his own consciousness and so now here he was keeping watch over a quiet horizon. He was slowly beginning to wonder if his fruit was actually worried about you or if it was just acting up because he hadn’t been able to use it for a while.He even thought that this anxiousness was in part due to everyone else around him, his fruit was being influenced by others emotions. It was a possibility but not probably as it hadn’t happened before.

He needed to be sure in his own mind that you were able to take care of yourself. All that training the two of you had done throughout the years was going to pay off in the end. The flight training, sparring sessions, and haki training were all going to help you on this endeavor.

Yet as he looked out into the horizon he couldn’t help but wonder if it was enough. Did he train you well enough? Were you even ready for such a mission, even if it was strictly reconnaissance?

Question after question came up in his mind and each time he was left feeling doubtful. It truly had been a long time since he had last felt this way. His fruit was beginning to shake in his very chest as he let out a sigh. It begged him to take a peek at the imprints. To check up on everyone– on you. To see if you were truly okay for now.

As he focused his mind on the imprints his fruit kept for him he saw only two. Hot and red of Ace was as hazy but identifiable as usual and the sharp and clear imprint of Jozu was present. 

You, your imprint, the one that was so soft and held a deep brown to it was gone.

Where did you go?

Chapter Text

You were groggy, tender, and covered in a thin layer of sweat. You were conscious but your eyes were shut and it felt like trying to lift concrete when you tried to open them. Your hearing was muffled and it was hard to distinguish sounds that were around you and the thrumming of your heartbeat. You wanted to groan and protest the pain away but it was no use. It was like your body was sedated, all mobility and agency removed. You were stuck in your own body with no way out.

Seas be good, your body was so, so heavy. What happened to you? You couldn’t remember.

You tried to shift but it was no use. You tried to search for your devil fruit to help you but as you called out to it you heard nothing, you felt nothing, it was like a void was placed in its stead. It was then you started to panic. 

Where was your devil fruit? You were positive you had one. It was ingrained into your very soul. You tried moving again. This time, your arm twitched.

“Hm? Oh so you’re finally awake now.” A dulcet tone spoke cooly, it was muffled by your ringing ears and raging heartbeat. The clacking of shoes on tiles echoed in your head as you groaned internally at the pounding it generated in your head.

The click of a door and then silence. You guessed you were alone. You tried to shake yourself awake, the heaviness of your body slowly lifting. Your breathing was labored, all of your energy was focusing on breathing to try and calm your frantic self. 

In and out, in and out, in and out. Just breathe.

Your mind was hazy as you tried to remember what had happened to you. Memories of snow and water flashed before your eyes as your mind pieced together the puzzle. You fell, that was the first piece, but how did you fall? Your fruit should’ve been there to help you?

As your mind raked over reason after reason a memory flashed before your eyes and your stomach dropped.

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening!... your mind was trying to repel the memory but it tore through you like a hurricane. 

I hadn’t been hit by a spear though! You continued, your breath was rapid and your heart rate was rising with each passing second. You needed to calm down but the memory of the fight five years ago gripped your heart and squeezed as hard as it could. You forced yourself to shut everything down when you remembered that you were hit. Not by a spear, but by something else. You didn’t know what, but whatever it was it had to be the same thing.

As you continued to slow your breathing and regain some control of your body you couldn’t help but remember the fight that had happened. The same fight that made Whitebeard force you to stay on the ship for the past five years. 

You tried to move your hands this time and you were able to yank them towards your body. Yet as you pulled they got caught– you were in chains. Cuffs were sealed around your wrists and kept them outstretched at your sides. The clanking of chains reverberated throughout the room you were held captive in. 

Your hearing was returning as the sedative within your own body started to wear off. You still couldn’t open your eyes though– your body still felt too heavy. 

Finally, you were aware enough that your heart and mind weren’t in such a frantic state, still scared shitless, but it was more manageable now. You assessed your own body and found that there was an aching pain on your back. It throbbed and felt hot. Right, that’s where you got hit.

You were alerted to the clacking of shoes on tiles. They were quiet and grew louder with each passing second. Whoever left before was coming back with someone. No, several people. There were at least three or more people among those footsteps in the hallway. You yanked on your chains again, a resounding chink scrapping against metal fasteners. 

The door to the room clicked and groaned as the voices filled the silence of the room you were chained in.

“Our final product isn’t ready for the blackmarket. We still don’t know the full extent of the serum and how it affects the body.” The high-pitched raspy voice spoke with a distinct ‘ Shurororo’ laugh following after. 

“It was fortunate that we were able ta’get a another test subject. Though, I’m not too fond of who it belongs ta…” A another spoke. His voice was deep and felt like you were being scraped over gravel. 

“The effects of this serum yielded better results than the previous batches, if I had to put a timeline on it then within the next few months we should have something ready for the Blackmarket.” The dulcet tone spoke, it was sweet and cunning. You inadvertently shuddered at the menagerie of cryptic voices.

“I think they’re awake!” The gravelly voice spoke again. The pounding of feet came closer to you. The sedative that you were under was still weighing heavily on you. When a hand gripped your head and pulled on it you wanted to groan and try to yank yourself away. A rough, calloused hand cupped your face. It was awfully sweaty. Then a pair of fingers were on your eyelids pulling them open. 

Your mind went silent. It was him. Instinctively you tried to yank on the chains again, to muster all of your strength to get away.

“Zhahahaha, You can’t get away little one.” He said before letting you go. Your eyes were weary and closed again. “I see this time the physical properties of the fruit didn't disappear when the serum was injected into them…” Blackbeard spoke.

“No, but I can assure you that the fruit is no longer active.” The dulcet tone spoke coolly.

“Active, huh? The fruit should be completely gone.” Blackbeared grumbled.

“Might I remind you that this was only a tester batch with a whole new formula that I created. It’s trial and error with these types of things. I’ll modify this serum and test it out again.” The high-pitched voice spoke, he sounded irritated.

“What should we do with them once you’re finished?” This tone was different. They were quiet up until now. Who was it? Their voice was chill and calculating.

“I want to run some tests on them first, maybe do something about those wings protruding from their back, shurororo…” The man laughed maniacally. You could only guess at what was going through his mind. “When I’m done, you’ll dispose of them as usual.”

“How long will these tests take? I have to report back to base soon.” The mysterious voice spoke.

“Yes, yes, yes. It’ll only take me a few days...” The high-pitched voice replied.

“Right, well off with ya then. I have other things I have ta attend to.” Blackbeard said. His pounding feet walked away and opened the door. “I suspect I’ll have an angry sunnuf-a-bitch at my doorstep soon with this winged beasty in my territory. I bet it was that red haired bastard, been a pain in my ass ever since–” Blackbeard's voice echoed down the hallway growing quieter and quieter the further he went. He was rambling on and on.   

“Monet, how much sedative did you use on them?” The shrill voice spoke.

“Double the regular dosage. They were quite difficult to sedate after capturing them.” The dulcet tone, Monet, replied. The scrapping of pen on paper filled the silence between the words.

“Right, lower the dosage. I have questions I want answered. When you finish that, I want you to go find the bone saw.”

“Yes master.” Monet’s voice was soft, the clacking of her footsteps leaving the room.

“What are you going to do with the bone saw?” The mysterious voice asked.

“I’ve never seen someone use their devil fruit in this manner. Most avian types use their arms as wings,” the shrill voice paused as if contemplating his thoughts. “They must have gone through training to make this happen.” The shrill voice continued.

It was true, you had gone through training to be able to produce wings from your back. It was grueling and all for the satisfaction of others. At first you hated it, you never wanted to use your wings— not like you could even if you did want to. Yet, after years of torture in paradise you learned that it was better to just do what you’re told. After you were saved you slowly learned to love the freedom that they gave you.

“That still doesn’t explain the bone saw.”

“I have a theory, what happens to the physical properties of a devil fruit if a component of their make is physically removed. My hypothesis says that the devil fruit will be nullified completely– removed from circulation entirely, if you will.” The person circled your body, you felt their piercing eyes scan your entire body. You were on display all over again. “All this, without killing the person.”

“I don’t quite understand…”

“This person has the tori tori no mi model eagle devil fruit. They have wings and though we have nullified the fruit itself, I suspect the power will come back at some point. The serum isn’t perfect, we know this because their wings are still present. Blackbeard wants to remove all fruits from circulation, he wants pure and raw power to be the defining way we structure ourselves, anyways I’m not here for that, I’m interested in the science behind his idea. With that being said, what happens if I remove their wings? They aren’t a part of the natural body. In fact, they are the physical and pure manifestation of the fruit itself. Think of the wings on Monet for instance, they stem from her arms– faux wings if you will. These however, oh they’re much more than that. Shurororo.” You felt hands graze over your wings and you twitched at the looming thought of what he would do to you. “If I remove the wings, will that kill the fruit entirely, remove it from circulation, never to be seen again? Or will the fruit itself just become useless, an eagle can’t fly without its wings now can it? Or, will some third thing happen that I hadn’t thought of? It is these questions that have been eating away at me ever since we started this little project.” Your blood went cold. There was no way that this could happen, could it? Your heart rate spiked as you thought about losing your wings— your fruit.

The power to get rid of all fruits??? Your mind wasn’t ready to accept this at all. Devil fruits had been the defining power houses of the past Millennium. To just get rid of them? That will tear apart the entire world. 

Your arms yanked on the chains as you focused on trying to voice the scream building within you. He couldn’t, he can’t. Your voice came out strangled and muffled. You were gagged, you hadn’t noticed before.

“Don’t fret little one, it’s all in the name of science.” A ‘shurororo’ laugh echoed within the room, “you’ll be set free when I’m done with you.”

A spark lit within you as your mind recalled that same line. You’ve heard it before, not by the same person, but by another. You shivered at the memory.

“So, when you cut those wings, the pure manifestation of the fruit, the fruit will no longer have the same wing manifestation?” The mysterious voice asked, their tone was cautious, maybe even curious. 

“That’s the theory, but I will have to test it out. This is what science is all about. The people under the world government have been doing these same tests but I want to get to the final result before they do. To have an upper hand if you will…” The person who had caressed your wings laughed. It was near maniacal.

“Well, I will leave you to it then, Come get me when your tests are done and I will get rid of them for you.” Without another word the mysterious person left the room. The click of the door, their final goodbye.

There was silence for a time as you waited with bated breath. The sound of his steady breat was the only indication that you were not alone in this room.

The sedative in your bloodstream slowly worked through you as pieces of metal clanked and clicked around you. He was silently working, only humming and clicking his tongue as he worked about the room. You wished you had the strength to use your haki to try and assess the situation further, but nothing was possible. Whatever sedative they used on you was strong.

After a while the door, which you figured was to your left, clicked and creaked open. 

“Master, I have the bone cutters. I will now lower their dosage.” Monet spoke.

“Good, how long will it take for them to regain full consciousness?” He asked.

“Just mere minutes, the effects of the devil fruit are not gone.”

“Good, I don’t want to spend more time on them then I have to. I’d like to get back to our base as soon as possible.”

“Should I continue with the surveillance?”

“No, you used your power long enough, I don’t think we’ll be expecting any visitors soon. You may either stay or leave.”

“As you wish, master.” 

You waited for the click of the door but it didn’t come. You guessed that Monet stayed, waiting somewhere at the far reaches of the room.

As time passed on your soul grew weary. How could you have gotten yourself into the same mess as before. Fate really was a bitch.

Chapter Text

A tender hand gripped your face and yanked it upwards pulling you from sleep.

“Time to wake up shurororo.” 

You frowned and opened up your eyes, this time they obeyed. You saw a man with wide yellow eyes and a smile that pulled across his pale face. You also noticed that he had two peculiar horns tucked amongst the midnight locks that curled and cascaded down his back.

“Who the fuck are you?” You asked, your voice weary. At least your spirit was somewhat back.

“Such a naughty one, tsk.” He replied, his tone grossly playful. You wanted to puke– well, maybe it was a combination between easing off of the sedative, the pain that wrapped your body (how did that happen again?), and the gross aura that this fucker gave off. Seas be good, you were so sore.

“Yeah, I've been told.” You muttered out as you hung limply from your chains. It turned out your feet were supported by a circular platform that was situated neatly in the center of the laboratory you were currently in. 

You wondered where the hell Blackbeard found a place like this? A whole ass building built into the mountain. Oh yeah, that's why you hurt so badly. You fucking fell…

Oh shit… everything you had forgotten came rushing back to you in an instant. The groggy feeling that had encapsulated your body dissipated and was replaced by a slowly building sense of fear. 

“I’m going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer, if not…” he paused, hand supporting his chin– “Well I don’t know what I’ll do but I’m sure it’ll be fun whatever it is.” He laughed before turning to the clipboard that was in his hands.

Your groggy mind whirled and processed where you were. You had a vague recollection of what you heard last time. You knew you were going to be here for a couple of days, you hoped you would regain the strength to escape sooner than later– you really didn’t want to figure out how they ‘dispose’ of the people they finished using. Your mind wanted to pull at memories you sealed away and so you forced yourself to think forwards, of the future, and how you would inevitably escape. 

I can’t dwell on memories. You thought as you scanned the room. You were utterly defenseless. You couldn’t sense your fruit and your ability to use your haki was useless. The sedative you were still under somehow blocked your haki. A flash of bright lights and an echoing voice shouting numbers overtook your vision in a blurry haze– a memory. No, you couldn’t. Don’t dwell on it. It has no place in your future! You wanted to growl out in protest as you continued to look around the room. 

An array of screens to your left, a few were displaying walls of text that you couldn’t decipher. Other screens were views from surveillance den den mushi overlooking various hallways of the facility you were in.

It was chilly in the room, and as you continued to look around your eyes landed on a green-haired lady standing off at the edge. You tilted your head to the left and she did the same– fucking avian-types. You tilted your head to the other side and she copied you. You scowled and stopped looking at her. Mimicry wasn’t your thing, in fact you hated it. 

Other than the stalwart assistant at the edge of the room by the door there was nothing else of interest within this room you were confined to. Just wires and whiteness.

“Monet, stop. It’s creepy when you do that.” The midnight haired bastard said. He didn’t even turn around to look at Monet who only smiled coyly at her master.

“Sorry, Master.” She replied.

“Do you know a man by the name of Newt?” Caesar asked.

You scoured the remnants of your memory for a name like that yet you couldn’t come up with anything. You had met a lot of people and you had forgotten a lot of people as well. A name like that? Who knows if you actually met someone with that name. 

“No, I don’t.” You responded.

“Are you absolutely sure?” The clown asked.

“Positive.” You said curtly.

The horned scientist raised a brow and hummed. His eyes scanned the documents on his board before smiling. “There’s a trail of documents that place you in Paradise, do you know this place?”

You shuddered at the name. You nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“There’s information here that dates back roughly twenty-five years ago. Looks like you were a prize amongst the nobles, If these documents are correct then you were able to catch a handsome price for just an evening.” He laughed and you grew heavy with shame.

“That’s a history that doesn’t belong to me.” You growled as you tried to focus on the present moment. 

“Looks like you didn’t belong to anyone. Just a pretty flower being passed around–” He paused, his face alight with surprise– “Even your family didn’t want you. Although, the information around them is confidential, even I couldn't get that.”

“What do you think happened to Newt?” He said after a time.

“I told you I don’t know who that is.” you replied.

“Are you sure? Because there is a line of documents that tie you to this name.”

You scowled as you looked at him. You weren’t related to anyone– not by blood as least. Well, you refused to acknowledge it…

“I’m positive!” You said with more force than you intended. He was pushing into a territory that you never wanted to see.

He laughed as he flipped through his papers.

“It says here that you had a little brother…” He skimmed the paper in front of him, a grotesque smile spreading across his face.

You shouted, yanking at the chains that held you captive. You were simmering with a rage that you hadn’t felt in a lifetime. “Shut your fucking mouth you fucking piece of shit!” You glowered, tone hostile and low. “Whatever that piece of paper says it’s a fucking lie…” You growled as you held it gaze. You saw Monet stand straight, eyes curious, at the edge of your vision. 

“Tut, tut… I see I’ve dug into something very personal. Too bad the trail goes cold, though, your little outburst gave me a solid understanding” He flipped over his board and tucked it between his arm and side. He walked away and towards the array of screens across the wall. “I think I’ve got all I need from today. We’ll pick it up again tomorrow. Monet, release sedative-22.” The midnight haired man walked briskly from the room leaving Monet to nod after him. When the door closed with a resounding click Monet moved to the table that held wires and metallic equipment.

What the fuck is Sedative-22? You thought as you watched Monet fill a needle with a crystal clear liquid.

“What will that do?” You asked. Hesitation, curiosity, and fear mingling together. Monet hummed but didn’t respond. You tried to eye her as she rounded the room and stopped behind you.

“I wouldn’t move, this goes directly into your spinal cord.” She said coolly, as if she didn’t just spill the worst possible information. Spinal needles hurt like hell. You went cold and focused solely on the wall in front of you. 

You waited and you felt a light cold touch on the base of your neck. You stiffened. It was then the pointed tip of the needle slowly pressed into your neck and past your vertebrae. You inhaled sharply– a scream building in your chest. Tears plucked at the edges of your eyes as your vision went blurry.

“Don’t move.” She said, sharper, colder. Her hand gripping tighter around your neck as you tried to still your movements. You couldn’t risk getting injured more.

As the crystal clear serum went into your spine a fuzzy sensation quickly overtook your senses. You couldn’t think. You couldn't smell. Your senses were completely taken from you. Your hazy vision is the only thing keeping you from complete and utter darkness. 

This serum was different. Not only did it remove the void in your soul, it tore it open. It was like it was ripping it to pieces. Your soul was trying its damn hardest to piece itself back together. You were to suffer without fighting back. 

You heard a muffled click as Monet started talking. You fought against the serum as you felt your soul fight for its life.

“Sedative-22 has been injected into the patient's spine at the base of the neck. The haki distribution within the patient will be monitored over the next 12 hours. Although, I can already feel its power weakening significantly.” A muffled click before footsteps started to echo away. 

You were left in the bright room, the hum and buzzing of lights and screens your only company as your soul fought against the sedative. You looked so pathetic hanging limply from the chains.

What accursed world did you live in?

How long had you been left to hang limply from the chains, your tiptoes barely keeping you standing with the tiniest shred of dignity you were spared. It felt like eons had passed since the sedative was injected into you. Your soul was weary, weak, and torn to ribbons. You weren’t sure how you could sense it, but a part of you just knew . It made you so very sad. You wanted to cry but you were left emotionless. 

Please come get me… you weeped to yourself. Anyone… please.

You were cognitive but you were so out of it that you couldn’t do anything but wait.

It was another endless hour before you heard footsteps down the hallway. Just two. The creaking of the door and voices filled the silence of the room.

“Ah, you’re finally awake!” The shrill voice spoke. You saw his midnight hair and curling horns as he walked up to you. “I wasn’t sure if the sedative had worn off. I visited you periodically over the last twelve hours but you had no reaction to my presence.” He laughed before turning and motioning to Monet. She walked to the side of the room and grabbed another vile that was placed on the metallic table. You froze as your eyes went wide– this wasn’t the same thing was it? 

“Don’t worry– it's a counter serum, to ease you back to reality. You’re still processing the after effects of the sedative from last night.” A cure? How the hell was that possible? 

A few short moments later Monet had distributed the serum into the bag that hung beside you. 

“As this serum works through you I will be asking you more questions. Same procedure, same consequences if you don’t answer them.” The shrill voice spoke. You still didn’t know who he was, his only alias was ‘Master’. You sure as hell weren’t going to call him that. You just nodded weakly. 

“Do you remember the effects of the serum that was used on you when you first entered this facility?” He looked at you, his gaze holding nothing. You thought about it, trying to grasp at memories that were slowly fading away. You remembered falling, the fear and then awe of being able to swim. The boat coming to hoist you up out of the water was the only thing you remembered after falling, anything after that was blank. So, you nodded your head. 

“I see, can you remember specifically what happened?” As asked again. Face still void of emotions. He was in his element. 

You told him what you remembered and he nodded along, humming once in a while as you recalled how you felt and what you saw. 

“Very good, most patients can’t remember a single thing. Exceptional.” He shuffled the papers on his clipboard before smiling. “Now, tell me what you felt with sedative-22.” 

Your head was beginning to ache, throbbing behind your eyes as you lowered them to the ground. The lights were beginning to hurt. A pencil scratched across papers as he took notes. 

“Side effects are beginning to show.” He muttered as he finished writing on the paper. 

“I was conscious but my senses were dulled considerably. Hazy vision, muffled hearing and a complete loss of smell.” You muttered as you tried to ease your way through this headache. Your arms were so tired, they have lost feeling and are now tingly. 

“I see, these side effects were expected. Yet, better than others before you.” He sighed and turned away from you. “I’m getting closer to the final result, but it’s not quite ready. Monet, adjust the serum once more. Make sure to get the data from batch 20 and batch 22. Batch 23 will be a combination of the two. We had good results from both of them, they should be tested together.”

Monet, who was standing near the metallic table, nodded her head and wrote down her own notes. “Yes master.”

Monet left the room leaving you once again alone with the horned scientist. 

“What else can you recall from sedative-22?” 

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to inform him that it did in fact tear you apart inside. A pang shot through your body and suddenly you stuttered out what you felt. 

“My- my soul…” You started slowly, hesitant as to what actually just happened— “it’s gone?” It was more of a question than an actual statement. You weren’t even sure what had happened– just a primal instinct. All you knew is that it wasn’t the same. 

“Marvelous!” 

Marvelous???

“What else can you tell me?” He was intrigued, too intrigued.. 

“I don’t know what else to say, it feels stramgeit feels strange. I feel…” You paused assessing how you truly felt. When you did, you felt…

You felt. Nothing.

“Yes?” He pushed as he leaned forwards and into your space.

“I feel nothing.” How strange indeed.

“Interesting.” He didn’t seem thrilled by the thought but what did you know? You knew nothing. Well, that’s not true. You knew you were supposed to feel something , but what those emotions were you couldn’t be sure. Maybe you were supposed to feel mad, or outraged, maybe even sad. All these emotions you knew you could, no should , feel were suppressed.

The midnight haired scientist walked away from you and picked up a recording den den mushi and clicked its shell. A familiar ‘ click ’ came from it.

“Results of sedative-22 prove to be useful but there is a side effect that I had not anticipated. It yields an array of possibilities yet even I don’t like it. More tests should be taken before project M.A.H.D is released.”

What the fuck is project M.A.H.D?

Chapter Text

At some point through your stay in the facility they actually moved you from the chains and to a cell block where other patients clung limply to the walls. There were groans and whimpering as a muggy air settled around you. The gas-guy was done with you and wanted to keep an eye on you while the serum that was injected into you slowly exited itself from your system. 

At one point you made note of who was in the cell with you. At least ten others, a few women, a few men and a child or two. Some had certain arms or legs missing, while others were just a head and chest with maybe an arm or two. How the hell were they still alive? You were too scared to ask. You were one of the lucky bitches to still have their whole body– debatable by some stares. You shoved them off as nothing more than just looks on the fresh meat.

It was quiet for a time, but then gruff looking fellow with a beard who was missing an eye walked up to you and smiled.

“Hi,” He said softly. He was careful to not come off as intimidating. You smiled at him. It was a reprieve from the thoughts that threatened to storm your mind. 

“The name’s Baron, what’s yours?” He asked as he sat in front of you. Your smile faltered and you shrugged. You really didn’t want to get buddy-buddy with him.

“What happens after we’re finished here?” You asked slowly. 

“Usually a day or two in this cell before we’re shipped off and never return, if you catch my drift.” You wanted to smile, to scoff, at his attempt to appeal to the younger generation. However, it didn’t happen. You just looked at him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked after a time. 

“Two days, was able to keep track of the feeding schedule.” There was a feeding schedule? What were you animals? This made you scoff. He laughed as well. It reminded you of pops. 

“I know that tattoo, Went toe to toe with one of his commanders once, a while back.” He stated as he pointed to the tattoo on your upper arm. You looked at it and your smiled softly.

“Oh yeah, who was it?” You asked. It was rare to meet others who have went toe-to-toe with one of your crew members.

“Big guy with a stach. Put a scar on his forehead before he put me on my ass.” He laughed a little before looking away. You raised your brow and smiled softly.

“So that’s how Fossa got that big ass scar on his equally giant-ass forehead.” You let out a laugh that turned to a sputtering cough. “Fuck, I don’t feel good.” You muttered as you adjusted yourself.

The man looked at you worriedly, but didn’t say anything before moving to sit beside you. The two of you sat in relative silence as you dozed in and of consciousness.

You weren’t sure how long you were within their facility but when the cell block started to rumble you wondered if maybe your four days were up. 

“What was that?” one cell mate asked, his voice low and fragile.

“Sounds like fighting…” another muttered as you slowly removed yourself from the wall. Your entire body hurts. If there is a God, he can go fuck himself… You thought as you painfully moved to the edge of the cell.

“It’s probably an earthquake.” Another grumbled, he was older and more senile. He didn’t even care to look out of the cell block, his eyes trained on the grain of the wall.

“No, I don’t think so.” A younger one said, eyes wide with curiosity, “Listen, don’t you hear the yelling?” 

You scowled and crawled your way to the edge of the cell. Rough hands clamping onto the sea prism bars– you didn’t feel weak. You strained yourself trying to hear the yelling that the younger kid mentioned. A second passed and it was then another rumbled cascade through the facility. That’s when you did hear something. 

“I-I think it is yelling.” You perked up at the thought of escape looming on the horizon.

“What do you think is happening?” The gruff man spoke as he kneeled beside you, eyes alight with hope.

“I’m hoping it's someone I know.” You said softly. There was a spark that ignited within you as you thought about the possibility of Shanks coming for you.

“Freedom at last?.” 

“I fucking hope so.” A well of tears clouded your vision as you felt another rumble.

You veered away from the bars when a pitter-patter of quick steps came rushing down the hallway. You were too unsure whether it was one of the lackeys of the facility ready to come kill the prisoners. Although as soon as your back reached the wall you stiffened and clenched your fingers into fists. When did you become so docile? So scared and skittish? You had been through so much so a large part of you knew that it was okay, that it was natural to feel the way you felt. Yet another, smaller part of you, the one that was so stubborn to die, knew that you could get through this. It was just Paradise part two. You did it before so why couldn’t you just do it again.

It pained you that this stubborn ass part of you wanted so desperately to fight, to scratch and claw your way to freedom at any chance it got. You just wanted to be soft to not have to worry about what consequences were going to crush you if you did something someone else thought was wrong. 

“You’re a disgrace, a sin, an outright abomination and I don’t know why he puts up with you!” A shrill echo of a voice you once knew. Red hair and thin lips pulled into a pout. She was so scary. You shook your head. 

“Are you okay?” The gruff voice of the man beside you asked. You looked at him and didn’t say anything. What could you say to him? That you were having a lapse in memory? That you were slowly being consumed in a past you so desperately wanted to forget? That this same past was being shoved in your face because that fucking clown guy decided it was a fun idea to scour for the documents? That this whole situation was a beacon of terror that mimicked what you had once gone through? 

Hellish burning seas you wanted to forget. This cell was too much. You curled in on yourself.

As the rumbling continued on, the yelling and screaming got louder and louder as minutes passed. A warm hand placed itself on your arms. You looked up and saw the same gruff looking fellow. He had kind eyes, and a beard so dark and brown that it made you wonder what he looked like without it.

“Do not dwell on things you can’t control,” Well if that wasn’t fucking obvious, “Come, look at me, and listen to your surroundings. There is a time and place to dwell on things that ail us, but right now is not the time.” You furrowed your brows and looked at him more steadily. That's when a distant voice filled your ears

“I’m looking for Patient-574! Please can anyone tell me where patient-574 is!” They sounded panicked. Wait, You’ve heard that voice before.

The man in front of you held your arm and looked at the badge that was sewed onto it.

“Right here!” He then yelled as he raised your arm for you. You were so out of it that you didn’t even hear the voice calling you. The man hoisted you up and carried you to the strange person. You wanted to run, to hide, to do anything and get away from the mysterious person but you were so tired, sore, and not really ready for anything at all. The tests, the drugs, the throbbing pain in your head was weighing down on you like a million little needles.

“Give them to me.” The voice ordered and the man placed you into the arms of the person that was supposed to dispose of you. 

“What should we do?” He asked, worry etched onto his face and laced into his voice as he looked between the two of you. You saw the pained expression on every other cell mates in the room and desperately wanted to help them.

“Take the staircase down the hallway to the right and follow them up. Once you reach the second sub-level there are signs to an exit door that’ll lead you into the forest. Head towards the beach from there. There are boats waiting for you.” He said hurriedly and carried you off in the other direction. 

“W-where are we going?” you muttered out, barely above a whisper. You were so, so tired. You wanted to sleep forever. 

“I’m taking you to the infirmary quickly to patch you up and then I’m getting you out of here.” THe voice was gentle, rough, and laced with so much concern. 

“Who the fuck-” you sputtered out a cough trying to regain any semblance of agency “Who are you?”

“I’m a part of the revolutionary army.”

“But you’re supposed to kill me.”

“To Caesar's knowledge I did, however, to you I’m taking you to Shanks. Bastard was so furious it took me a while to calm his ass down. He wanted to come in here directly, but I suggested another alternative. One that didn’t involve everyone else dying– including the other patients imprisoned here…” His tone wandered off. He was thinking about something, 

“Oh, is that so?” you muttered as you tried to block out the searing pain on your back.

After several turns and minutes hiding in closets the two of you finally made it to the infirmary. Surprisingly it was empty already. 

“Alright, I need you to lay on your belly.” He spoke as he placed you on a metallic table. You groaned but did as he asked.

“Fucking hells–” He muttered, “Y-you don’t change do you?” It was softly spoken, wonder and sadness mixed into his tone. You wondered why.

As you laid on your stomach the aching in your back increased and you whimpered, tears were also threatening to pour down your cheeks but it took everything within you to not cry– not yet little birdie, not yet . You hated self-soothing, but it was necessary. What had happened to you. You wanted to reach around and see what happened but as you moved your arm the man grasped it quickly.

“Don’t touch it.” He commanded. His tone is more commanding than before. You laid the side of your head flat on the metallic surface eyeing him. Your vision was still bury from tears but you noted the dark facial features and slim figure. He looked so familiar. No, it was just your imagination.

“I’m going to inject a counteractive serum to fight off the still remaining effects of Sedative-22 and then I’m going to inject you with lidocaine to help ease the pain of the procedure I’m about to do.”

You nodded your head, a stinging pain etching its way through your bones. You wanted to protest, but something about this stinging pain urged you not to disobey him. 

The first needle was placed on the base of your neck and it stung just as much as the first one, this time however, the pain and weariness of the sedative weren’t present. In fact, after a few minutes your senses were clearer and your mind less foggy. The pain however. Oh the pain was so much worse. The tears threatening to spill from your eyes begun to pour down your face. You were filled with so much agony that a wailing screaming broke through the infirmary. 

The man working around the room had a pained expression on his face as he gathered his materials to conduct the surgery to patch you up. He cursed Caesar for not taking the proper care to patch you up himself, yet he really should’ve known he didn’t care about his patients that much. He knew Caesar would have just gotten another Zoan type and would have done the same thing. He was patient that way. 

Your screams of agony mixed together with the spit and mucus created a cacophony so terrifying that he thought he should have given you the Lidocaine before. Yet, the more logical part of him, the part that new medicine so thoroughly, knew that the Lidocain wouldn’t have worked. Sedative-22 worked solely on the part of the body directly tied to the soul. How Caesar knew this and was able to craft a sedative to target it specifically baffled him. It would baffle the scientific world if it got out. Yet, that was his mission. Sedative-22 mustn’t be distributed to the blackmarket. All evidence should be destroyed.

He needed to wait for the effects of the sedative to exit your body entirely. To hasten the process he started to pump fluids into you and start a blood transfusion. From his knowledge on the impacts of sedative-22 your experiences are responsible for patching up the soul. Your body however, is responsible for removing any extra sedative that may linger after it’s been injected. 

As he finished setting up his station a few people burst through the doors startling him.

“Commander! We’ve secured the perimeter, but Blackbeard and Caesar hauled ass before we could capture them. He’ll be back with reinforcements.” The commander scowled and pursed his lips.

“Have someone watch the horizon. I need time to patch them up. Where’s Shanks?” He asked curtly. It was another 15 minutes before he could inject the lidocaine. Your screams were dying out and we were worried you wouldn’t make it.

“Shanks is counting his men.” The soldier stated. A look of dread on his face. The commander could only guess what the hell Shanks did to the men that worked under Blackbeard. He knows so intimately what Blackbeard's men were capable of.

“Tell him I should be finished in a few hours. I can’t move them now. They’re too weak.” He wished he could. He wished he could just take you and patch you up on the boat while making their escape but your so fucking weak and in need of proper equipment that he couldn’t make that sacrifice.

The soldier saluted his commander before ushering off to find his men and give word to Shanks.

The commander waited another 15 minutes. During that time he made sure to keep you stable. Your cries were merely whimpers at this point and he knew he needed to work quickly. Grabbing a vial of lidocaine he injected you with it and began his work. Cleaning, disinfecting the two massive wounds on your back before preparing them so that they could be sewed up. He worked swiftly that time passed by in an instant. You were numb and your tears had dried up. He wished he could have put you under but there wasn’t a surgery room, just the infirmary.

Heavenly seas you’re so strong.. He thought as he began to wrap your wounds up. He was careful to handle you making sure to not touch the sensitive wounds. You groaned and he smiled softly, that was good. You’re still here. When he was finished patching you up he made sure to grab antibiotics and topical cream for your other bruises and cuts that weren’t as desperate for attention. 

Just as he was about to pick you up he felt a wave of haki coming from behind the closed door in front of him. He was quick to put himself between you and the door but when Shanks entered the room he quickly released his tension as sighed. Shanks looked all but calm. He looked between you and the commander before asking, “Everything finished?” His tone is unnervingly calm.

The commander nodded his head and before he knew it Shanks was picking you up. He was gentle and caring. He made sure to cover you with his black cloak. Again, you groaned quietly. Unconsciously you laid your head on his chest and let everything else fade away. You focused solely on the warm chest and sturdy arms that encompassed you.

The two men walked from the infirmary quickly. The commander motioned to his men to follow.

“Is everything in place?” He asked. 

“It is sir, ready for denotation at your signal.” The soldier replied. The commander nodded. 

“Set the timer, we’re headed out of here.” The soldier saluted before walking off.

“Hopefully this will give us enough time to assemble ourselves.” Shanks said.

“It will definitely make their job harder. However, we need to eliminate Caesar and Blackbeard as well as their subordinates.” The commander said. 

“I know.” Shanks sighed and remained quiet. His haki was wavering, he was scared. He had to admit though, thanks to you and the commander the fate of the world is one step closer to peace. Just one more fight.

Chapter Text

The sound of crashing waves against the hull of a ship was the first thing you heard when you shifted in a rather uncomfortable bed. Your eyes opened, they felt bleary and dry, you were greeted by white sheets and a thin black blanket that had a minimalistic pattern to it. The bed wasn’t extraordinary and the room was rather dull. The soft glow of a dying candle is your only source of light as you fumble from the bed. The stiffness of your body made it nearly impossible for you to gather yourself completely. When you were able to sit up straight you felt your chest and noticed that there were bandages wrapping around your torso and around your forearms. Bandages everywhere it seemed and they were tight.

The ship creaked and moaned under the constant barrage of waves and wind. You weren’t home, you knew that much. Hellish seas your head was so foggy. You tried to grasp at fleeting memories as you stood up on wobbly legs. Nothing came to you. The next thing you tried to do was feel for your fruit but when your looked inwardly you felt shards and pointing things. You visibly gasped as your hand hovered above the handle. It was like this was a threshold that broke the damn. You suddenly remembered what had happened to you and your eyes swelled with fresh tears. Everything was ripped from you. You chest tightened and you recoiled from the door. Your hands were quick to try and wipe away the tears that were slowly falling down your cheeks. Ragged breaths slowly filled the room as you tried your fucking hardest to calm the hell down. 

The door that was closed suddenly opened and you stared at who stood before you. Auburn eyes stared at your as more tears streamed down your face. You felt like you looked pathetic in from of one of the strongest men on the seas. Your mind yelled this at you as he took quick steps towards you closing the distance. It was in another instance that you felt strong warm arms reach around you and pull you into a hug. You stood there shocked at the sudden gesture but soon you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him tightly to you. There was no room for air as you held on for dear life. Like he was going to drift away if either of you decided to let go.

“I don’t know what happened.” You choked out after a time. You knelt your head into the crook of his neck, voice muffled by his shirt. 

“It’s alright.” He spoke in soft tones as he pulled back slightly. He leaned forwards and put his forehead against yours and looked at you with an insurmountable look of pain and worry.

“I was fine one moment and then I was attacked and everything happened so quickly.” you blabbered out quickly, afraid that if you didn’t you wouldn’t ever. “I was taken and they did tests on me and more tests and I was chained up and there were others too, so many others, sedative-22 and another serum I was injected with both of them. I’m sorry, I can’t remember the details.” You choked out in quick successions as your eyes darted everywhere but his own. Tears were constantly streaming down your face as your body quivered in fear. “I-I’m sorry, I'm sorry i'm sorry i’msorryimsorry–” it was like your voice was on repeat as you continued to apologize. A habit that you thought you had long forgotten, built by fear of what he would do to you. Hells your vision was blurry and the red of his hair looked too much like the red of a noble's hair you used to serve under. You tried to pull away trying to separate the two of you, the two memories trying to play as one.

“It’s alright, I’m not mad,” He let you go, he saw fear and worry and noticed how you weren’t necessarily with him at this moment. “I know everything that happened, you don’t have to say anything else.” He tried again as he stepped back. You noticed and a part of you coiled in disgust for yourself as you turned from him. You really didn’t want to look at everything. 

The ship suddenly then rocked violently back and forth. You stumbled backwards and Shanks was quick to catch you. As the ship continued to rock you steadied yourself back onto your own feet and hissed in pain. Your back was sore. You turned and looked at Shanks curiously, you wanted to ask but he was already looking away and at the door he walked through. A tinge of red painted his neck as he scowled darkly. 

“Shit…” He muttered out as he quickly walked from the room and down the hallway. You weren’t sure why he suddenly got mad. You tried to reach out with your haki but nothing happened, you felt nothing. You scowled. Hesitantly you stepped forwards and looked out the room. Below deck of the ship was dark, port holes at the far ends of the hallways were the only sources of light that lit up the otherwise darkness of the cabin. You wanted to follow to see what had happened but a large part of you was scared. So far this room was safe, and the way Shanks had reacted told you that maybe going above deck wasn’t safe. You couldn’t tell yourself. The tests that the fucking clown had done on you damaged you somehow. You were sharp and jagged inside. The void you had once felt was now so fucking big and broken that you weren’t sure if was repairable. 

You remembered vaguely that this was all just tests and a silver lining embedded itself into you. Maybe with time things could work out.

You fiddled with your fingernails and stepped back from the frame of the door and closed it securely. Maybe you’ll just stay here until Shanks comes back. You knew he was strong, and right now at this moment, you were anything but strong. In fact you probably were just a regular human– no less than, definitely less than. Your pirating days were coming to an end. There was no more use for you anymore. Whitebeard would just disband you from the crew and drop you off at the next port island and leave you. An Emperor with a disappointing crewmember who had no value staying? Yeah, there was no way he’d actually keep you around. It was just a matter of time. Your hands grew sweaty as you waited below deck. It was silent, maybe too silent, either way it made you nearly jump out of your skin when Shanks opened up the door.

You know those looks that people give you when they are hesitant on showing you something? It was that same look that Shanks gave you when he sighed. He placed a hand on his hip and shifted to one side. He was contemplating something. 

“What was that?” You asked, you wanted to break the silence that fell between the two of you.

“It’s Marco.” He said stiffly, as if he really didn’t want to see the Phoenix right now. Granted, any other time would’ve been fine but now? Hell there was no easy way to put it. Everyone had taken a huge loss. You the most. Shanks was unsure of whether or not you were ready to face the reality of the situation. I mean, he came in on you crying for hell's sake. 

“W-what?” You stuttered out in shock. Your face had visibly paled. “What did you tell him?” Your tone raised an octave as your eyes began to dart around the room again. He didn’t know what hell you witnessed and went through, all he knew were the basic facts that the Commander gave him before he left. He also didn’t know if you knew the extent of your back either. He looked down and saw red splotches from when he caught you. He knew he shouldn’t be the one to tell you, but he didn’t think you were going to figure it out on your own. You were too caught up in your own head to really realize.

“I haven’t told him anything, just that you’re here and that you’re safe.” He said cooly as he pulled his lips into a thin line. He was thinking. What should he do with you? The second half of the mission wasn’t going to happen, thankfully it wasn’t a complete bust. The commander had some intel on the second location. It wasn’t much, just another facility that Caesar clown and his assistant Monet used to conduct more experiments. Apparently it turned out that they were visiting with Blackbeard and giving him an update on the experiments, the snow that you had been through was a security measure from Monet’s doing. Everything after that was just them taking advantage of chances where they could. 

“Look, he’s desperate to see you. Can I let him in?” Shanks asked as he looked from the ground to you tentatively. You stopped pacing around the room, the bandages beginning to soak with more blood. “He’s a better doctor than I am and he can tend to you. A distraction?” He offered. You looked at him like he was the last thing holding you afloat right now. You contemplated his offer and slowly nodded your head.

“He’s going to want to know what happened, can you tell him?” Maybe it was best for Shanks to give the Phoenix the details but he also wasn’t a Whitebeard pirate. Business between crew members was strictly between crew members. That was the way on the open seas. Again, you contemplated whether or not you had the strength to recount the last few days.

When you nodded your head again slowly Shanks walked up to you and pulled you into another embrace. You quickly held onto him, right now he truly was the only thing that you knew to be a force that would wreck anything that tried to hurt you again. 

“Alright, follow me.” He let go of you and grabbed your hand and led you out of the room.

As the two of you walked out of the safety of the room you woke up in a tension built itself within you. It squeezed your chest and made your stomach feel queasy. You tighten your grip around Shanks hand as you follow after him. 

You cursed yourself for being so attached. You felt like a child again, following him to a place you really didn’t want to go. You looked up at Shanks, but all you saw was the back of your fathers figure. You shivered and looked away. Shanks is better than him, everyone else you knew was better than him. 

“What happens after he looks at me?” You asked softly. 

“The rest of the mission is called off, I know enough for now. We’re about a week from entering Whitebeard's territory. You’re going home.” He replied.

“I could just fly back with Marco, I know you get nervous–” Shanks suddenly stopped in the hallway just in front of the door that led into the infirmary. He took a deep breath and sighed before turning to you. 

“It’s fine.” He gulped visibly as he looked past you and down the hallway. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?” He asked. You scoured your memories but everything was coming up in blanks. 

“Yep.” You believed that the experiments that were conducted on you screwed up your memory so much that everything just went blank. Shanks sighed before he opened up the door to the infirmary.

“I think it’s better if you’re with both of us before I tell you why you have those bandages.” You scowled at him. Your heart raced so fast that your fingers felt cold. You didn’t like the sound of that. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, voice laced with concern. “I’m alive, that's all that matters, isn't it? Does this have to do with those tests?” You rambled on as you walked in after Shanks. You quieted down immediately as you saw tufts of blond hair in your periphery.

“Marco?” You muttered, you didn’t know why you were surprised to see him.

“Hey, little birdie.” He replied, equally as soft. There were so many emotions swirling in his cobalt eyes, most prevalent was relief.

Chapter Text

Marco’s POV

He knew he was going to get into trouble for leaving without at least talking with pops first but not being able to sense your devil fruit was driving him to the brink of insanity. That evening, back on the crows nest, when he tried to see the imprint of the devil fruits and realized yours was gone had sent his own devil fruit into a frenzy. That frenzy was slowly leaking into his own consciousness and it wasn’t until the following evening when Marco decided to head off into the dark horizon. He needed to see for himself if you were okay. 

He had left a note to Thatch addressing why he had suddenly left. He had also instructed him to give the note to pops. By the time dawn rolled around he had made it outside of the calm belt and was now heading towards Blackbeard's territory in the West Blue. The plans that were made before your departure were still fresh in his mind so he knew where Shanks should be holed up. It was just a matter of time before he would arrive. It was going to be a long journey and he hoped to the ends of the earth that when he landed he would see you on the ship in good health.

However, after traveling non-stop for seven days he finally found the Red Force tucked into a bay on an island. When he sent out a wave of haki both assessing those on the ship and announcing his arrival he didn’t sense you at all. What he did sense was something jagged and sharp. 

Descending towards the ship he landed with a loud thud, rocking the ship back and forth. Waves rippled away from the ship as the creaking and moaning subsided. The first to get their footing back was the first mate, Ben Beckman. Marco knew him to be a steadfast man with a fierce dedication to his men and captain. For the most part he and Beckman were much alike, save for lack of devil fruit powers. 

“What are you doing on the Red Force, Marco the Phoenix?” Beckman addresses him to his full name, a scowl crawling across his face. 

“Where are they?” He asked. For the first time in ages Marco’s tone deepened considerably. He was willing to get past them to find you if they so much as raised a pistol to him. His phoenix was wary and ready to strike anyone around him that wasn’t you and he used that to his advantage. 

“Lower your weapons, men.” Beckman commanded. Muttering dispersed between the crew on board as each one gave each other confusing glances. Beckmen knew that Marco wasn’t going to attack, at least he hoped so. 

That’s when Shanks appeared from below deck. 

“Ah, Marco–” He drawled as he opened his arms in assurance. Marco was bristling with tension as he spotted the red head. “Always a welcome sight.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Marco quipped. There were wisps of azure and gold flecked flames stemming from his fingertips. 

“I’m guessing you’re here for them…” It was more of a statement than an actual question. However, Shanks wondered how the Phoenix knew so quickly. The news hadn't been distributed yet. 

“Where are they?” Marco asked. He wasn’t willing to ask a third time.

“They’re here. Safe, but…” Shanks put his hands on his hips and let out a deep sigh. “They’re in bad condition though.” He continued on as he watched carefully at the phoenix warrior in front of him. His cobalt eyes were dark, fists balling in tension as more flames flickered from his figure. Shanks was teeming with his own haki, ready to hold him back if he threatened to fight. Yet, something within him told him that this aggressive mood wasn’t particularly his to begin with.

“How bad?” Marco asked. He was trying his best to keep his devil fruit contained. He felt for his fruit, knew that you weren’t okay, however he had a job to maintain a certain presence as a Whitebeard Pirate– He was sorely losing his cool.

“They’re alive, but–” Shanks was at a loss for words. He also was unsure whether or not he should be the one to tell Marco about what had happened to you within that mountain facility. There was a code to keep and he didn’t want to be the one to break it. “Just come with me.” Shanks motioned for Marco to follow and soon enough the first division commander of the Whitebeard pirates was on his heels. 

Marco knew about the codes of the seas and it was right about now that he wished he could just break them– maybe smash them to pieces. It felt like a lifetime before he and Shanks reached the infirmary. Between the time it took to go from the main deck to the infirmary he wondered what part of his emotions were truly his and what were influenced by his devil fruit. Phoenix from lore were often depicted as focused, valued competency and were highly independent. All of these traits Marco knew he possessed, yet, what most tales lack is the complete and utter devotion a Phoenix will exert to keep those they value as true friends or partners. It was a raging passion, a flickering flame one wisp away from a billowing forest fire that would consume the world, that would do anything to keep them protected. They would go so far as to give their lives in order to achieve this because they knew they were eternal beings. This is the darker side of the phoenix that literature refuses to talk about. Something that Marco was slowly starting to understand for himself. 

“Maybe it’s a good idea that they have something to do while the two of you talk it over.” Shanks offered and Marco understood. He nodded his head. 

“Oh, and if it wasn’t obvious before but the remainder of the expedition is over. My crew has been through enough.” Shanks' face fell a little and it didn’t go unnoticed by the commander. Marco tilted his head sideways, a curious scowl furrowing his brows. Marco knew only bits and pieces of what Shanks crew had gone through, but he didn’t know the full extent of it all. He doubted he would anytime soon. 

“Wait here, I’ll go get them.” Without another word Shanks had left the room. 

Turning from the door Marco scanned the room to see what type of infirmary the Red Force possessed. Much to his pleasure it was a fully functional medical room, save for the equipment meant for more intense emergencies. Taking Shanks' hint he started to grab a few things he may need to cure whatever injuries you got from this mission. 

After a moment of silence he heard your voice echo down the hallway. You were rambling and nervous, a hint of fear laced into those words as the door opened.

“I’m alive, that's all that matters, isn’t itt?” You asked as you caught a glimpse of Marcos blond tufts.

Marco’s breath left his chest as he looked you over. What the hell happened to you in the last few weeks? There were bandages wrapped around your chest, arms, and scraps and bruises littered across your body. His eyes caught the two long stains of blood that were forming on the back of your shirt and something within him snapped. 

He was so relieved to see you alive, but the extent of your injuries were something that he couldn’t get past.

“Marco?” He finally heard you say his name softly. Eyes a light with surprise as you clutched your hand to your chest. 

“Hey, little bird.” He replied softly. His mind was still reeling, as he shifted in his place. He tried to calm his devil fruit as it poked under his skin. He needed to remain calm, for your sake. Your stained cheeks were the second thing he noticed when he looked at you. Hellish seas, you looked so tired and scared. He wanted to do everything in his power to make sure that you would be okay. The first step was tending to those wounds on your body.

“Marco’s going to replace those bandages.” Shanks said as he pulled his hands from your grip. 

The look in your eyes nearly tore his own chest open. When you turned to look at Shanks with desperation he knew that whatever you had been through was enough to bring out that same scared woman from five years ago. What he wasn’t prepared for was the words coming out of your mouth.

“Maybe not, I’m not ready for this.” You muttered out as you clenched onto Shanks shirt. Marco inadvertently stepped back, his arms are steading himself on the metallic table. He raked his fingers through his hair as he looked to the side.

“You need to have your bandages changed.” He replied, tone soft yet demanding. 

“Come, You don’t need to speak if you don’t want to.” Marco said. He urged you to come to him and you looked at him with uncertainty. Meek was the first thing that popped into his head when he looked at you. He didn’t know what was going on in that head of yours, but he could make an educated guess. He urged you once more, his gesture and tone soft and assuring. You let out a sigh and walked to him, eyes averting to anywhere but his. 

When you sat down onto the table, back facing the two, Marco grabbed a pair of scissors and started to cut away the bandages. 

“I’ll be out on the main deck when you two are finished.” Shanks spoke quietly before a soft click announced his departure. 

The silence that fell between the two of you was nearly palpable. Marco wanted to say something, anything to try and ease you into comfort. However, as he removed the bandages from your back his mouth dried up. Apparently you felt the hesitation in his movements and you looked over your shoulder and sighed.

“Pretty bad right?” You said, a near scoff exiting you mouth as you looked back and at the far edges of the room.

“What happened?” Marco asked as he got his materials ready. He would need to re-clean, sanitize, and bandage the wound. Whoever did the stitching was good and the wound was sufficiently closed up to his liking. 

“I think they’re gone.” He heard you mutter out. You sounded like you didn’t want to believe it, that there wasn’t a chance in the world that your wings were truly taken from you. The two long red and bruised scars that cascaded down your back were enough for Marco to garner some understanding of what had happened to you. He wanted to believe that there was still some hope for you, but he didn't know the details and he was hesitant to ask.

As Marco cleaned your wound you remained silent. He let you sit there as he cleaned and did the best he could to heal your wound. He stopped for a moment and sighed. He knew you liked your scars, a reminder of what you had been through, however he was still inclined to ask about him using his own powers to help ease up the healing process. 

“Can I use–” You cut him off with a swift nod. 

“Just enough to make it easier though.” Marco nodded his head at your request. Blue and gold flecked flames trickled from his palm as he hovered them over the two long scars. You winced at the lick of the flames but nothing else. They weren’t hot, Marco made sure of it. It took awhile but once the redness and puffiness of the two scars were gone he stopped his healing abilities.

“I can’t believe I fucking fell for it.” You said followed by a scoff.

“What do you mean?” Marco asked, grabbing the bandages and ointment.

“Fucking hell, even after all this time. I tried so fucking hard, I tried I really did, and yet I still fell for my own bullshit.” You lowered your head and held it into your hands as you tried to not cry. Marco walked around the table and knelt to the ground.

“Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was, I should've known!” You looked up and into his eyes. “This is a whole new playground for warfare. What if the Marines and the World Government get their hands on this power? The age of devil fruits is over. I am useless now that I don’t have my power. I am fucking useless, not to mention the fucking sedative that practically destroys someones haki!” You were in a state of panic and Marco couldn't help but just stare and watch. After a second of disbelief from what you had said he quickly grabbed your face and made you look directly at him. 

Marco nodded, He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this news but he desperately wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. He barely understood his own connection he felt towards you, not as a crew member but as someone his Phoenix chose– someone who was more special than anything else. "First off," he begins, his voice firm but gentle, "you need to know that you're not alone in this. We're a family here, and we take care of each other - especially when things get tough. Your wings might be gone temporarily, but that doesn't make you any less valuable to this crew, to me."

He places a comforting hand on their shoulder, his cobalt eyes gleaming with a force and fiery determination. "We'll get you your powers back, and we'll get your Haki back too."

He was unsure of how he would exactly do that, but it was one step after the other in this type of situation. 

Marco takes a moment, then adds, "You can always come to me, yoi. Anytime you need to talk, or just need a chat, I'm here. Don't bottle it all up inside. There's no shame in needing help or support, no matter how tough you think you are. We're a family, and we support each other through the good and bad times. Just remember, you're not alone, and we're here for you," he says, the last part with so much heartfelt sincerity that you suddenly start to cry. It was violent and racked your entire body. 

Marco's face softens even more, his heart filling with a sadness he hasn’t felt in a lifetime. He gently embraces you, pulling you into a tender embrace. "It's ok," he says softly, soothingly. He gently rubs your back, making sure to not disturb the wounds. "We'll get through this together."

As he held onto you you had begun to sputter out apology after apology. Marco's heart ached as he heard your apologies. His phoenix fruit within him stirred, burning fiercely with a mixture of anger and compassion. He gently but firmly silenced your apologies, his voice carrying a stern yet tender tone. "You have nothing to apologize for," he repeated, his words infused with unwavering conviction. "I will carry you through this if I have to but we will get through this together.” Marco pulled back from the embrace and placed a tender kiss to your forehead as you continued to cry. 

He tried to sooth you further by releasing calming waves of haki but after the third attempt was met with the same jagged and sharp feeling he stopped. This feeling was strongest when he was around you. He suspected that this was the doing of the events that happened under the mountain. His phoenix was angry, very angry, and he was willing to let it ravish Blackbeard and his crew. Yet, when he looked back at you he immediately felt those emotions wash away and were replaced by the tender, caring and protective nature that he was so well known for. He placed his chin on top of your head as you continued to cry into his chest.

Chapter Text

When your tears had dried up you had promptly passed out into Marco’s chest— Your exhaustion getting the better of you. He tended to the rest of your scraps and bruises with his fire with a firm frown on his face. He contemplated his actions and what paths would be better, for your sake. A part of him knew that once you got better you’d want to take revenge. That you would rather ravage the islands and all those who held residence upon them. 

He had begun to notice small signs of regression in you. The constant apologies, timid and hesitant nature. All broad in the grand scheme of things but he couldn’t help but think that they are the same emotions that were present when you first arrived on the Moby. 

He didn’t want you to withdraw from your family, from him, more importantly— yourself. 

Shanks had come in once he had heard your silence and had informed the phoenix that they were a two weeks' sail from Whitebeard's territory. Shanks would have to make a stop at a port town to stock up on supplies for the infirmary, and kitchen.

“They’re finally asleep now?” Shanks spoke quietly as he leaned against the door frame. He had ordered his men to set sail. They had already spent too long in the cove waiting for you to wake up. Shanks was worried, rightfully so, he had made decisions that were tough. He had also paid the price for it too. He was just glad to see that they were able to get you out relatively safely. The facility had been damaged in the explosions the Revolutionary commander had brought which would buy them some time. Blackbeard will have to reevaluate his plans and Caesar, well, he would scurry back to whatever hole he crawled out of. The only surety that he knew was that Blackbeard would retaliate. Not only had they gone into his territory, but they killed his men, destroyed his facility, and made a general mockery of his rule as a Yonko. He was surely to be pissed to hell and back.

“I’ll call for a meeting of the commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates.” Marco said.

“I’ll do that too. My men are angry and they want to fight. Yasopp has been jittery ever since they’ve come back.” His gaze turned to your body that was laid on the table. Soft snores and the occasional twitch of your fingers are the only sign that you were still alive. 

“Whitebeard isn’t going to be thrilled, he’ll want to mobilize his vessels and crew as soon as we adjourn the meeting.” His fists balled themselves on his lap as he too looked at your sleep figure. There were so many questions he wanted to ask you. He just wasn’t sure you were ready to answer them. “I think he’ll even want to call upon his ally’s as well.” Marco turned his head to look at the red haired captain, a knowing look in his cobalt eyes. Without needing to ask, Shanks nodded his head in a silent agreement. He would follow the Whitebeard pirates to war. 

There was a wavering silence between the two as they both contemplated the logistics of a full scale war between three of the Emperors. 

Shanks thought of Luffy, he had gotten word that he had been in a critical fight against one the admirals– Kizaru. During his fight Kuma had sent his crew flying in different directions. The straw hats were scattered to the wind. Shanks wanted to end this war before they had time to head over to the New World. He couldn’t risk Luffy losing his devil fruit and his haki. Not only was he just a kid, but he knew that he was going to be one of the most important figures of this new era they were headed into. Some were already calling it the Era of the Worst . There were already a few of the new pirates entering into the New World– some with powerful devil fruits.

“What’s that look for?” Marco asked. He was unconsciously holding your hand and running his thumb up and down on the back of your hand.

“Just thinking about this kid I met when I was younger, he’ll be coming to the New World soon. Before he gets here I want to end this fight.”

“That’s good.” Marco said.  

“What about you?” Shanks asked. The way Marco was holding your hand didn’t go unnoticed by him. He was more than curious to know what your relationship with the Phoenix was like. He had often thought about you during the years spent traveling the seas. Even more so, he felt the gentle and fierce waves of haki you possessed. He was sad to know that it was sharp and jagged now. If anything he wanted to teach you how to wield the conquerors haki that was buried deep within your own soul. He just didn’t know if that was possible or not.

“Everything and nothing all at once I suppose.” Marco uttered quietly. He looked to the ground with a solemn look to his face. Shanks grimaced. He knew all too well of the hardships one can make on the seas. He could only guess that Marco was silently blaming himself for all that had happened within the last few days– he certainly was.

“A blessing and a curse it feels like to be someone like us.” Shanks said solemnly as he looked to the hardwood floor of his ship. To be a commander was one heavy burden but to also be a captain was something else. Shanks could empathize with Marco on some level, but to him. Hellish seas, to him it felt like the world was weighing down on him a hundred times over because of his title. To be a Yonko and a Captain and to continually make decisions that would, in the end, affect your crew was something entirely different that he wasn’t prepared for. 

“I think you would carry the most out of the two of us.” Marco chuckled darkly as he raised his head again. His fingertips were getting cold and tingly. Rampant and destructive emotions were coursing through him and making his heart race a million miles an hour. This was unusual behavior for him. In the many decades he had been a Whitebeard Pirate he had never felt such overwhelming emotions– not ever. Anger sure, but overwhelming rage and the incessant need for destruction was new. You had done something to him that made him feel so unsure of himself.

“Carrying two titles definitely is something, but I think you also carry something else.” The tone of his voice and the lingering suggestion behind his words was not missed by the Phoenix. Marco scowled and thought about what he wanted to say. 

“I can’t deny that there is something else that attaches itself to me, but I can’t say what it is. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what it truly is myself.” Marco took a deep sigh. “It is a mystery to me.” He added softly as he continued to stroke your hand.

Shanks hummed in response. He could tell that Marco couldn’t see what he did, even if it was only speculation, but until he had made the connection he would pursue his own desires until the Phoenix figured out his.

“They have certainly grown into someone worthy of being loved. They are so readily aware of their own power that they are willing to go on missions where the stakes are so high that most would back out immediately without a second thought.” Shanks smiled dimly. “It’s admirable at the worst of times and down right heroic at the best of times. Its a trait that most others do not possess.”

Marco laughed humorously at his words. It was true, you were so unaware of your own power that it was such an admirable trait. He wished that you could see it, to wield it with the same fierceness as you do now. However, his laughter died down when memories were called to the forefront of his mind. You were fierce and strong and so much more than what you thought you could be. Yet, that same darkness that kept a fierce hold on you also begged for attention. It wanted to be known as something that was meek, unwilling, and careless. For the first few years as a Whitebeard Pirate those dark emotions made themselves present. You were careless, you were unwilling to try anything new, and acting so submissive that it was hard to watch. That was who you were– who you were slowly regressing into. Marco’s tender looked dropped to sorrow and worry. 

He cared for you. Shanks cared for you. Everyone cared for you. Yet, the firm grip of that darkness held you so strongly that he doubted you could even see it.

“That’s right, but I doubt they are truly aware of their own power. They’ve come so far, and to suddenly be put into such a staggering position…” Marco stopped, sucking in a sharp breath, “I worry. I worry about what is going on in their head.” He stopped himself from saying more. He wanted to speculate, to guess, to try and formulate a better understanding of what had transpired in your past. Yet, that wasn’t his duty. It certainly wasn’t his right to spill these things to someone else. So, he stopped talking.

Shanks grimaced. “Then maybe I could be of some help?” He suggested as he squared his shoulders. It was already a mission he was willing to carry out. If not for his own desires but for the hope that maybe one day you would find it within yourself to see, to truly see, just how free you were.

“And what help are you suggesting?” Marco asked, brows furrowing.

“To train them. They have power,” He paused letting his hand run across his face in anticipation. “I think your captain knows about it, I mean, I felt it for myself.” Shanks chuckled at the memory. “Something so unique that it is found in only a few people.” 

Marco cut off Shanks rambling, his gaze was curious. He felt Shanks’ haki washing off of him in slow but powerful and almost exciting waves. Whatever he was thinking it made him near excited. “Cut to the chase.”

“Conqueror's Haki– I think they possess this ability.” Marco’s eyes went wide with surprise. It was soon followed by a scoff. He rolled his eyes and held his face in his palms as he listened to the red haired pirate.

“You can’t be serious?” He asked. 

“I am deadly serious. It’s there, I felt it myself when I pissed them off a few weeks ago.” Shanks put his hands to his hips as he thought about the strong wave of haki that rushed though his bones. It licked at his mind and coaxed him to obey– it was so sweet and tender that he actually nearly lowered his head to you. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he too possessed such a power and retaliated. He shouldn’t have called you back to the ship so harshly, but he wasn’t used to witnessing another user so unexpectedly. He was more used to people who showed off their ability, to flaunt it without care or mercy. He had never come across anyone who was unaware of their own ability.

“And you’re positive that they possess this ability?” Marco wanted clarification. It didn’t go unnoticed from him that Shanks thought that pops knew about this. It made him question the reasoning behind why pops didn't bring this up sooner. 

“I am, yes.” Shanks assured.

“You know it doesn’t feel the same, right?” Marco inquired.

“I know it doesn’t but haki is the manifestation of the spirit.” He offered, he was becoming optimistic.

“So you're suggesting that their spirit is broken?”

“Precisely, it isn’t a mystery that what they experienced in the facility wasn’t sunshine and roses. They went in knowing that their life would be put at stake. They made the decisions and weighed the consequences and found that they could endure whatever waited for them.” Marco squeezed your hand lightly as he glared at Shanks.

“I highly doubt they knew that Caesar wanted to conduct his experiments on them. If anything I doubt they fully understood the consequences that would come out of this mission.” Marco was exasperated. “They haven’t been on a mission in five years! And the first one that is thrust into their face is one that maybe someone else should have taken. Someone like me.” Marco straightened his back as he continued to stare at Shanks.

“I wasn’t aware that it had been such a long time since they were on a mission. Their demeanor was stead-fast, and they were ready to give it their all–” Shanks uttered, he was surprised by this new information.

“Because that’s who they are to a fault. Even if it was a suicide mission I’m sure they wouldn’t have acted any differently. It’s what makes them so reckless at times. That their need to always do what they’re asked overdrives their common sense that it gets them into trouble.” Marco spoke over Shanks. The two of them looked at you still sleeping and snoring softly.

Marco was angry at the whole situation. He thought that this mission was too much for you considering how long it had been since you were able to leave on your own. Yet, he had been swayed into believing that you would be alright. That you would come home safely. The letter that the crew had received a week before this whole ordeal had eased his worries so much that he felt content that you would be successful. 

“Even so…” Shanks started slowly. “What’s done is done. We can pontificate over the what if-s and should have-s, but the damage has already been done. Nothing we can do about it now but try to help them back onto their feet– and hopefully back into the sky.” Shanks ran his hand through his red hair sighing as he did so. “a spirit can be mended back together. I can’t say for sure about their devil fruit powers, but I can at least try to mend their spirit.” Shanks paused. He walked up to your sleeping figure and grabbed your other hand. Caressing it softly. “I suggest you do the same. It would make this process a lot easier and quicker.”

Marco was silent for a time looking between you and the red haired pirate. He believed that with Shank’s help the two of them could somehow mend your spirit back together. Shanks would take care of your training. Himself though? He wasn’t sure what he should or could do in this situation. His Phoenix was simmering with rage and guilt for something he could not control. However, the more he thought about it the more clearly he was beginning to see a different aspect he could possibly try. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” He said at last as he leaned back in his chair. All he could do now was try, one step at a time. He hoped that whatever plan he was blindly conjuring up would somehow be the key to regaining the soft and brown color imprint that was now lost to him.

Chapter Text

You drift endlessly through darkness, a void so profound it swallows even the faintest echo of thought. Time loses meaning here, each second stretching into an eternity. You are weightless, adrift in a sea of nothingness, devoid of sensation.

But then, a sound. Faint at first, almost imperceptible—the soft lapping of water against wood. You strain to listen, unsure if it’s real or a figment of your imagination. Another sound joins it, a gentle, rhythmic breathing, each breath a whisper in the dark.

Not yet, please not yet… you think slowly as you wade closer to the sounds in the distance.

The sounds grow louder, more distinct, stirring your awareness. Slowly, you feel yourself moving towards them, the darkness around you thinning, a haze lifting from your mind. With each moment, you draw closer to wakefulness, the world around you becoming more tangible by the second.

Your senses sharpen, and the fog in your mind begins to clear. You realize you’re not drifting aimlessly; you’re waking up. Memories flood back in disjointed fragments—of a ship, The wind whipping by your face, the sway of the sea, the incessant growls of dragons, and the smell of salt and timber. You remember Shanks, Marco– Oh, Marco . You clasp your hands to your face and sigh softly.

Your heart beats slowly, a steady rhythm that anchors you as the darkness recedes. You open your eyes, blinking against the dim light. The room is familiar, the quarters of the ship. Your own personal room on the Red Force– without the many blankets and pillows from your room on the Moby. Shadows dance on the wooden walls, cast by the lantern swaying gently above.

As your vision clears, you see him—Marco, sitting in the corner of the room, asleep. His head rests against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing matching the sounds that brought you back. His presence is a comfort, a reminder that you are not alone. Even in his quiet slumber his soft waves of haki emanate off of him. Your lips twitch into a half smile, always so vigilant even in his sleep.

You take a deep breath, the scent of the sea filling your lungs. The remnants of your dream linger, but reality is solidifying around you. The room, the ship, Marco—all real, all here. You are awake now, no longer adrift in the void– you were still trying to determine if that was a good thing or not. With the endless darkness gone it was replaced by the gentle creak of the ship and the company of a close and trusted friend.

You lay in the silence of the room, your mind drifting back to the recent mission. The memories come unbidden, like dark waves crashing against the shore of your consciousness. You feel terrible, the weight of your past pressing down on you, prodding at wounds you wish would heal. Your heart aches with the recollection, each thought a sharp sting.

Tears swell in your eyes, blurring your vision. You shuffle and roll onto your side, seeking solace in the sight of Marco sleeping peacefully. His tranquility is almost enviable, a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. The feeling of envy creeps in, unwelcome and bitter. You shove it away, telling yourself not to be angry, not to let those dark thoughts take hold.

With a deep breath, you gather enough energy to sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The movement is sudden in the quiet room, and Marco stirs. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, his concern immediately replacing the haze of sleep.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice rough from slumber but filled with warmth. “You okay?”

You don’t answer immediately, instead wiping the tears from your eyes. The silence hangs heavy between you, the unspoken weight of your memories pressing down. Marco sits up, leaning forward slightly, his gaze never leaving you.

“Um, yeah, I’m okay,” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “And everything else, I guess.” you manage to let slip a lackluster breath of air in an attempt to laugh. You failed at that too.

Marco nods, understanding without you having to explain. He gets up from his chair and crosses the room, sitting beside you on the bed. His presence is steady, a comforting anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

“We’ve all got things that haunt us,” he says gently. “But you’re not alone. We’re here. I’m here.”

His words are a balm to your aching heart, a reminder that you don’t have to face your past alone– not anymore. You lean into him slightly, drawing strength from his proximity. The room is still quiet, but it’s a different kind of silence now—one filled with understanding and unspoken support. You try to reach for your haki but its nowhere insight, your fruit too is gone. Your mood sours at this. Everything, it feels like, was stolen from you. Your agency to express your own contentment was gone. Words weren’t for you, writing wasn’t for you– but it was getting there.

Marco wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. He placed his chin on your head and you sighed, sinking into him. 

“I’m fucking starving.” you say after a time and Marco looks down at you and chuckles lightly, eyes glinting in the candle light. 

“I’m sure you would be, you’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“How long was I out for?” You asked curiously as you leaned back and looked at him.

“A couple of days, we’re about a day or two from the calm belt. We’ll be stopping to restock on supplies soon.” He answered.

You hummed and got up from the bed. You hoped that Shanks' cook still had something to offer you. As you walked through the maze of hallways under deck with Marco in tow behind you you thought about how much longer you could hold your resolve. You suspected that Marco was also wondering the same thing. He seemed more inclined to help you through this than before. What changed in him?

You take a deep breath, feeling a little lighter. Marco promised that he’d be there, no matter what. And for now, that’s enough.

You and Marco head towards the galley, hoping to find some food. As you step out onto the ship’s deck, the late afternoon sun is setting on the horizon, casting a crimson red sky that spills colors across the heavens. The sight is breathtaking, unmarred by a single cloud, the vast expanse of the sky stretching endlessly above you.

Walking side by side, you glance up at the sky. A deep longing burrows itself into your chest, a hollow ache that feels both familiar and foreign. You think about your devil fruit, the power you once wielded with such confidence. The memories of the incident under the mountain flood back—how everything changed in an instant, leaving you with questions and doubts. Will you ever be able to use your power again? The uncertainty gnaws at you, adding another layer to your turmoil.

Marco catches your eye, his expression softening. He offers you a small smile, a gesture of reassurance that cuts through the haze of your thoughts. His presence is a constant reminder of the strength and support around you, even in your darkest moments.

As you reach the galley, the scent of food greets you, a welcome distraction from your worries. The warmth of the setting sun and the camaraderie of your crewmates fill the space, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within you. Marco’s smile lingers in your mind, a beacon of hope as you navigate the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of your future. You knew it was time to do something about it. You’ve been soaring for long enough, with your wings gone this gave you a reason to not put it off for much longer.

—

It’s later into the evening when Shanks pulls you aside, his demeanor serious yet warm. The sounds of the crew's laughter and chatter fill the background, but Shanks’ presence draws your full attention.

Marco had wandered off back to his temporary cabin to write a letter back to pops about their coming arrival. With any luck in the next couple of days you were finally going to be back on the Moby– in a familiar environment. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins, his tone measured. “I want to train you.”

You blink in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden declaration. “Train me? For what?”

Shanks’ eyes bore into yours, filled with a depth of understanding. “I believe you might have Conqueror’s Haki. With the right training, you could wield it with great proficiency.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and you look at them. They were warm and calloused and strong. Your cheeks tinted and heated at the contact. 

Pull your attention back to his burgundy eyes. The revelation stuns you. Conqueror’s Haki? The rare and powerful ability that only a few possess. Doubt and curiosity swirl within you. “How… how can you tell?”

A small smile plays on Shanks’ lips. “Remember when I called you back to the ship before the mission? You were angry, and in that moment, you gave off a hint of Conqueror’s Haki. It was faint, but unmistakable.” Shanks had felt the heated wave of your haki. At the time he was stunned, but now, he wondered why it wasn't as strong as most users who were unaware– the straw hat boy from his past came to mind.

You recall the moment vividly—the frustration and anger that had surged through you, the way you had felt an almost tangible force behind your words when you told him not to command you. Could that really have been Conqueror’s Haki?

“But… I didn’t even realize,” you murmur, still processing the information.

Shanks places a reassuring hand on your cheek. “That’s why I’m here to help. Bolstering your spirit, honing your will—that’s what will allow you to control and master it. You have the potential, but it needs to be nurtured.”

The weight of his words sinks in, a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within you. The idea of possessing such a powerful ability is thrilling, yet daunting. But with Shanks offering his guidance, a sense of determination begins to take root.

“Alright,” you say, meeting his gaze with newfound resolve. “I wouldn’t mind you training me, if you think it’ll be helpful.”

Shanks’ smile widens, approval shining in his eyes. “Good. We’ll start when you’re ready. Rest up tonight; you’ll need your strength.”

Shanks was stepping away but before he could leave you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt. 

“What is it?” he asked.

“I want to thank you for getting me out of there.” you said softly. Your mind was reeling with so many things. It was one thing after the other and though you had been asleep and away from all emotions and happenings on board you still had yet to process it all correctly. “I also want to thank you for getting Marco.” 

Shanks rubbed his face and furrowed his brow.

“What?” you asked curious.

“I didn’t call him, he just showed up.” a nervous chuckle rumbling in his chest. This was surprising to you.

“Oh, I thought you had sent word…” your words fell off as you too furrowed your brow. “How did he know though?” You spoke to yourself as you looked away. 

“That’s something you have to ask him yourself, even I don’t know how he knew. If anything though he was fucking pissed.” He laughed recalling the moment Marco shook his ship with the landing. His haki was stronger than usual and a temper he hadn’t been used to was so prevalent.

Moving on from this revelation you looked back at Shanks. “Why would you tell me?”

“I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t feel compelled to. I respect you, you’re brave for putting your life on the line for a mission like this. Most people wouldn’t have done what you did, no less than continue on after experiencing what you did. “ Shanks said as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“To be fair though you had my whole crew scared shitless when you came back the way you did.” There was a waver in his tone when he crossed his arms.

The stubble that was growing on his face was slowly turning into a beard, you doubted he had taken proper care of himself ever since leaving the islands.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was never your fault. I should have taken better precautions. I’m just glad you're back. With any luck the training we do will help you build your confidence back up.” He was optimistic in this regard as he pulled you into a hug.

You gladly wrapped your arms around him and melted into the warmth he had. This whole ordeal you had been through with him was shifting you perspective on who Shanks was at his core. He may make decisions that weren’t necessarily good but now you understand that maybe those hard decisions were what was necessary for the type of things he was battling. 

“This isn’t over is it?” Your voice was muffled in his shirt but there was something about how everything ended that alluded to another break out.

Shanks took a deep breath and stepped back from the embrace to hold your face in his hands. “It isn’t but I came across a possible ally that helped me buy some time to formulate a plan for the coming war.”

Your eyes lingered onto nothing as you thought about the coming war. Was it truly a war? That would mean three of the strongest forces of the New World would be clashing. And here you were useless to it all. No fruit, no haki, nothing but a stupid pen and paper. Well, it wasn’t entirely true. You hoped that Shanks was able to help you with your haki. Mending of the spirit was it not? Haki was so deeply intertwined with ones spirit.

“Who’s the ally?” You asked.

“A commander of the Revolutionaries.”

“I want to be able to help.” you added on, your voice more firm and sure of itself as you saw your new path forwards.    

“You will need to practice cause your power is weak. It’s not enough to challenge whole armies. But with any luck you will be able to.” Shanks placed a firm kiss to your  forehead and you grew silent. It was in an instant that you acknowledged that maybe you could find solace in Shanks support. You would have to reconfirm these feelings after everything is over. For now though you melted into his chest as you let him ease you into contentment. You would be back on the Moby soon. Back home finally after two months of hardship. You were worried about telling them. How would they take it? Would pops keep you boat bound again? What would you do if he did? A prickle of fear burrowed its way into your chest as the sting of tears threatened to spill. No crying, not yet.

You hummed in response. Shanks had been kind enough to let you fall into him after the incident. He seemed just as content to keep you occupied and so you didn’t complain.

You couldn’t care. Not now, not after that. He was just a safeguard against the trauma. 

It’s not like he cared for your past anyways. He tried but he couldn’t understand. It was a fissure ready to break apart at the first sign of resistance.

Sooner than you expected Shanks had let go of you. As he walks away, you feel a sense of purpose igniting within you. The doubts and fears that had plagued you earlier seem to fade to the background for now, replaced by a growing sense of confidence. With Shanks' mentorship, the prospect of mastering Conqueror’s Haki feels within reach, a new path unfolding before you. To freedom.

Chapter Text

The journey through the calm belt had been anything but calm. Both Marco and Shanks had to take on three Sea Kings through the passage and each time it sent you underdeck. Their fights against the beats were the rendition of the same fights you had with king pets that those venomous dragons made you play with for sport. You shook your head as you slid down the edge of a wall. 

“No, it’s not the same. I’m fine.” You uttered quietly to yourself as you continued to tuck yourself deeper into the shadows. A howling scream of a sea king echoed across the ship and you clasped your hands around your ears as your eyes focused on anything but the clashing outside. Your fingers gripped as your skin and you wanted to desperately rip your ears off so you wouldn’t hear that hellish scream again.

After a while you were able to stop yourself long enough to head out onto the main deck of the ship. The sounds were quiet and when you looked out into the horizon surrounding the ship you noticed that there were no ripples or loud noises of Sea Kings. Marco and Shanks were not in sight either, you wondered where they were. The panic you had been feeling before was beginning to seep back into your bones.

You stand on the deck, the salty breeze whipping through your hair, the Calm Belt deceptively serene around you. But your mind is a storm. The sight of Marco and Shanks returning, victorious yet battle-worn from fighting off the Sea Kings, ignites a fire within you.

"What were you thinking?" you shout, your voice cracking. "You could have gotten yourselves killed! You both know how dangerous those beasts are, and yet you charge at them like it's nothing!"

Marco and Shanks exchange puzzled glances, their confusion evident. Marco steps forward, his features steady and his eyes flashing with concern. "Sea Kings aren’t a joke, you of all people should know this." He tried to grab your arm but you stepped back and scowled at him. Marco steps back as well, confusion laced with a grimace.

Shanks' expression hardens, a sharp look settling on his features as he steps forward. "We had to protect the ship," he retorts, his voice cold and firm. "I’ll do what needs to be done to keep my ship and my crew and everyone else on board safe."

"Protect the ship?" you scoff, the words feeling hollow even as they leave your mouth. "There are other ways to handle things! You didn't have to risk your lives!"

Shanks narrows his eyes, his voice cutting through your panic. "Don't you dare tell me how to protect my ship. The Red Force is my responsibility, and in these waters, I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

"You think I don't know that?" you snap, feeling the panic rise within you, making your heart race. "But that doesn't mean you get to put yourselves at risk like that! Just because you've gone through hell–." You pause and rethink the words that come out of your mouth in an instant.

"You're reckless! Irresponsible! Do you ever think about what might happen if something goes wrong? Do you even–” These words were so far off from the truth but you weren’t in the right mind to even think how they sound.

Shanks' eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens. "Don't you dare," he warns, his voice a low growl. "You don't get to unload your baggage on us. We've all been through our own hells, but that doesn't give you the right to lash out."

"There are other ways to handle things! You didn't have to risk your lives!" you scoff, the words feeling hollow even as they leave your mouth.

Shanks' fists clench, his jaw tightening as he takes a step closer, the tension crackling between you like a live wire. "And what about you? You think you can just lash out at us because of your own demons? We did what had to be done!"

“I did what had to be done!” you scream. “Everything I did was what was necessary to survive.” This wasn’t about the ship, the mission, or the fucking sea kings.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, the weight of your fears and frustrations boiling over. "Fucking hell, you don't know anything about my baggage, Shanks! You don't know what I've been through!"

Shanks' fists clench at his sides, his anger simmering. "Then maybe you should stop dwelling on it and actually tell us what happened! Keeping it to yourself isn't helping anyone."

The words cut deep, hitting a raw nerve. "You think you deserve to know?" you snap coldly. "With how you're acting right now? You don't get to know anything about me!"

"Enough!" Marco's voice is firm, yet there's a softness in his eyes as he looks at you. "This isn't helping anyone. Shanks, step back."

Shanks hesitates, his gaze flickering between you and Marco, before he takes a step back, still bristling with anger.

The words cut deep, the pain and frustration driving you to the edge.

Suddenly, a flashback hits you. A woman with red hair, her face twisted in fury, screams at you for every little thing you did wrong, for everything you had to do to stay safe in Mary Geoise. The memory is vivid, her voice echoing in your ears, bringing back the weight of those desperate times.

I did it once and I can do it again. You thought as you recalled those memories in paradise.

Your grip on the dagger attached to your hip tightens unconsciously. The familiar cold metal grounds you, but it also fuels your tension. Marco notices the change, his eyes darting to your hand.

"Let go of the dagger," he says softly, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos in your mind.

You meet Marco's gaze with a scowl, the anger and fear still bubbling within you. But his steady presence, his calm assurance, helps you find a moment of clarity. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, feeling the tension begin to coil your muscles. With a sigh, you release your grip on the dagger. It drops to the ground with a clatter, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet.

Marco steps forward, his brow furrowing. "We did what we had to do. What's really going on here?"

His question cuts through you, but you can't stop. Your hands tremble, your breaths come quicker. The panic rises, a tidal wave crashing over your senses. You can feel your chest tightening, your vision blurring. The words keep spilling out, a torrent of fear and frustration that you can't dam up.

“You’re fucking reckless, fucking bitch…” Those words weren’t truly directed at anyone else on the ship, your gaze was far off in the distance. They were someone else's words.

Marco's eyes widen with a sudden understanding. He sees beyond your words, sees the deeper turmoil within. He strides forward, firm but gentle, and clasps your arms. His touch is a grounding force, sturdy and strong.

"Hey," he says softly, locking eyes with you. "Hey, everything's fine. We're fine. But you're not, are you? This isn't about us fighting Sea Kings, is it?"

The panic tightens its grip, but Marco's presence is a lifeline. He holds you steady, his gaze unwavering. "Let's go somewhere quiet, okay? Let's talk this through."

As the fight subsides, Marco reaches for your hand, but you yank it away, the movement sharp and instinctive. "Don't touch me," you snap, the words harsh and brittle. Marco grimaces, the hurt flickering in his eyes, but he listens, stepping back slightly to give you space.

The two of you walk off the deck, seeking a quieter corner of the ship. Each step feels heavy, your thoughts a tangled mess. You can't help but rub your arms anxiously, the skin tingling under your fingertips. You've never truly had a fight like this, one that felt so pointless and raw. Anger, fear, and remorse churn inside you, a toxic mix that leaves you feeling hollow and unsettled.

As you reach a secluded spot near the stern of the ship, the sounds of the sea and the crew fade into the background. Marco stops a few paces away from you, watching you carefully, his concern evident. The silence between you is thick with unspoken words, but Marco's presence is steady, a silent promise that he's here for you, whenever you're ready to talk.

Your breaths come in shaky bursts, and you try to steady them, feeling the weight of the argument pressing down on you. The memory of the red-haired woman screaming at you in Mary Geoise haunts your mind, it wasn’t just her that had always yelled at you there were others as well, but his red hair and hers, your mind in the moment couldn’t differentiate– making it hard to focus. You feel anger at Shanks for his insensitivity, fear of your own vulnerability, and remorse for lashing out.

"I've never fought like that before," you admit quietly, not looking at Marco. "Not... not where it felt so pointless."

“It was always about something, or someone, but never just out of pure unadulterated rage. I know you’re both capable of fighting.”

Marco nods, giving you space to continue. His presence is calming, but the turmoil inside you still rages.

"You don't know what it's like," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "To constantly be on edge, to always have to look over your shoulder, to... to do things you regret just to survive.” 

Marco knew that this wasn’t about anything that has happened in the last several year. You had never truly lashed out at anyone, well except pops, in a way you did today. 

Marco takes a careful step closer. "No, I don't know exactly what you've been through," he says gently. "But I can see it's tearing you apart. You don't have to carry it alone."

You feel tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. "It's not fair," you mutter. "It's not fair that I have to be the one to explain, to open up." For nearly your entire life you were always to keep your mouth shut, do as you were told, and don’t say no. Later on it just became a habit to keep these things to yourself. 

“When you were both fighting the sounds, they made me panic, made me cave in on myself. It reminded me of–” You sucked in a ragged breath as you looked to the sky, hoping to keep the tears from falling but also a silent prayer to be able to just fly away from it all. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt like I did.” you finally admitted. It was part of the whole truth but you really weren’t up to admitting everything just yet.

"We are safe," Marco assures you. "Thanks to you, we're safe. But you're not, and that matters too."

You glance at him, your vision blurry with unshed tears. The sincerity in his eyes, the genuine concern, begins to break through the walls you've built around your heart. You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the storm within.

"I'm sorry," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "For yelling, for... for everything."

Marco shakes his head. "There's no need to apologize. You're dealing with a lot. But please, let us help you. Let me help you."

For the first time, you allow yourself to meet his gaze fully. The warmth and understanding you see start to melt the ice around your heart. You take a hesitant step forward, your hands still trembling.

"Okay," you say softly. "But I don't know where to start."

Marco steps closer, offering his support without overwhelming you. "Start wherever you need to. We'll figure it out together."

“Come here.” He offers, arms stretched out to you. 

You hesitate but step forwards and nuzzle into his broad chest. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. 

The remainder of the journey through the calm belt had been quiet. The Sea Kings decided to eventually leave the ship alone and the following day the rocking of the ship indicated that you were back in choppy waters. You had hid in your room only coming out to get your food and scurry back. You had yet to apologize to Shanks, too embarrassed to do so. After you had calmed down you realized that you needed to but you weren’t quite sure where to start.

You thought about what he had said and realized that maybe he could come to understand you if you did talk to him. 

Right now though, you wrapped your blanket that you acquired on the island before entering into the calm belt and snuggled into it. It was soft and warm, and would work as a pseudo nest until you were able to get back to your own room. It wasn’t much longer now until you made it back to the Moby Dick.

Wrapped up in a blanket you bought on an island—a small comfort in the midst of chaos—you sit huddled in your room. The fabric is soft against your skin, offering a semblance of safety. The room feels like a cocoon, a place where you can hide from the world and its demands.

A knock on the door startles you from your thoughts. “Hey, it’s Marco,” his voice comes through softly. “We’re about to board the Moby Dick.”

Your heart races. The thought of stepping out, of facing everyone again, fills you with dread. But you also feel a strong sense of relief, a desperate longing for the familiar comforts of your bed, your soft blankets and pillows—the nest in your cozy room aboard the Moby Dick.

“I know it’s hard,” Marco continues from behind the door, sensing your hesitation. “But you don’t have to do this alone. We’re all here for you.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past two months pressing down on you. With a reluctant sigh, you push the blanket aside and stand up. You walk to the door, blanket in hand, and open it, meeting Marco’s concerned gaze. 

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “But I want to go back. I need to be home.”

Marco nods, offering you a small, encouraging smile. “I understand. We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you step out of the room. Marco walks beside you, his presence a steadying force. The crew of the Red Force gives you encouraging nods and smiles as you make your way to the deck.

As the plank is set you stop walking and look back at Shanks with a sad expression. You give Marco your blanket and hastily walk back to Shanks. As you approached he looked at you with a confused expression. He had forgiven you for the outburst the other day and gave you a small smile.

“You should head home. I’ll be around to help train you, but give yourself a day or two first.” He said reassuringly.

“I know and I'm grateful for your aid, but I also want to apologize.” You said as you stared up at him. “I was not only worried, but I’ve had terrible experiences with Sea Kings in Paradise and it made me panic. I thought you should know at least that much.”

Shanks cupped your face and leaned his forehead against yours. “Thanks for telling me. You don’t need to worry, I’ve already forgiven you. I also acted out of hand before as well. Now go, get some rest and I’ll send for an envoy to get you in a couple of days. Marco will let your captain know of the arrangement.”

You smiled gratefully up at Shanks and turned around and walked back to Marco. 

As you approach the edge of the ship, the gangplank is already lowered, connecting the Red Force to the Moby Dick. The sight of the massive ship fills you with a strange sense of comfort. You can already imagine the feel of your bed, the soft embrace of your blankets, and the cozy sanctuary of your room.

With Marco by your side, you step onto the gangplank and begin the short walk across. Each step feels like a small victory, a movement towards reclaiming your sense of peace and belonging. As you reach the deck of the Moby Dick, familiar faces greet you with warmth and relief. 

“Welcome back!” someone calls out, and you offer a tentative smile in return.

Marco guides you through the ship, his presence a comforting anchor. Finally, you reach your room. The door creaks open, revealing your sanctuary. Your bed, piled high with soft blankets and pillows, looks like the haven you’ve been dreaming of.

You step inside, feeling the tension begin to melt away. Marco stands at the doorway, giving you space but ready to help if needed. “Take your time,” he says gently. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You nod, turning to him with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Marco. For everything.”

He smiles back, a warmth in his eyes. “Anytime, little bird. Rest now, you’ve earned it.”

As he leaves, you close the door and walk to your bed. You sink into the soft blankets and pillows, feeling the comfort and safety envelop you. The familiar scent and feel of your room bring a sense of calm you haven’t felt for weeks.

Wrapped up in your nest, you let out a deep sigh of relief. You’re home, and for now, that’s enough.

Chapter Text

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”

I may be home but I feel so far removed from my own reality that I find it hard to escape this torment. Staring up at the skies wishing I could return to a place of familiarity but being forced to stay down here and bear witness to a history I longed to forget. I know I said I wanted to change, to imagine myself being free, but if I knew that I had to go through hell I think I would have done something different. Something, I don’t know what. What’s the word? I learned it not long ago and it felt like it fit this situation… Acquiesce. That’s the word. I’ll acquiesce to this because I know that you’re not far from me.

Chapter Text

Marco’s POV

Marco strides across the deck of the Moby Dick, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a grim expression that casts a shadow over the crew. Those who were gathered on the main deck during their arrival were still there yet as the commanders and crewmembers watched him with concern, their previous joy at your return now tainted by the gravity of the situation they were soon to find out. Though everyone had been eager to welcome you both back, they couldn't ignore the fact that you hadn't even managed a smile. You thought you had given small smiles to them but all they saw were dead eyes and a haunted expression. They all whispered after you had gone below deck. What had happened to you while you were away? Why did Marco suddenly disappear only a few weeks ago? Whatever it was it was enough to make the First division commander worried. His haki radiated off of him with slow and jittery waves. Unbeknownst to anyone else though, his fruit, his phoenix was raging below his skin. It burned with a furious passion that couldn’t be quelled. 

With you now sleeping, Marco's thoughts turn to the urgent matters at hand. Shanks’ crew was still docked to the side of the Moby, each minding their own business vaguely hiding looks of curiosity as Marco approached his Captain, his mentor, his pops. He approaches Whitebeard, who stands near the prow, gazing out at the sea. Marco noted the gentle and fierce haki radiating from his core in steady waves. The old captain, with hair slowly turning white, turns as Marco arrives, his eyes sharp and questioning.

Marco knew that on some level the Captain knew what had happened. Something bad. What he didn’t know is how bad the extent of the mission was. A part of Marco, the one controlled by his phoenix, was feeling bitter towards his captain. He should have known that this mission was too much. Should have seen it coming with his observation haki– a lie. He knew observation only dealt with near future events. Yet, he wished it was different. You were hurt and now you were suffering. Your freedom was taken from you.

"Captain," Marco begins, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of the news he bears. "We need to have a meeting. There's something you need to know about the mission."

Whitebeard's brow furrows as he listens, his grip tightening on his halberd. "Go on," he says, his deep voice carrying a hint of unease.

Marco takes a deep breath, he wasn’t sure how to express this, his voice was going to fail him so he opted for bluntness. "The mission was successful, but it wasn't without its downfalls. They took a serious hit. Their devil fruit powers and haki are severely damaged." There it was, the cold hard truth of the situation. 

Whitebeard's eyes widened in shock, his usual composure shattered. For a moment, the great captain is silent, processing the gravity of Marco's words. Then, with a sudden, fierce movement, he slams his halberd onto the deck. The wood cracks with a loud snap, the sound echoing across the ship and drawing the attention of everyone on board. Even those who were on Shanks' ship turned to look at the sea emperor. The air cracked around his captain as he turned his full attention to his first division commander. Whitebeard wanted to embrace his daughter, wanted to console them and rid them of any grief and worry that they may still carry. However, he had to be a captain now. A father later.

The crew falls silent, their eyes on their captain, who stands with his halberd embedded in the deck, his expression a mix of anger and fear. "This is unacceptable," Whitebeard growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me what happened?"

Marco remains calm, though the tension in the air is palpable. "It was unavoidable. The enemy was stronger than we anticipated. But we got the information we needed, and we have a window of opportunity."

Whitebeard looks at Marco, his fierce gaze softening slightly as he sees the concern in his first commander's eyes. "What do you propose?"

"We need to act now, while Blackbeard is still recovering from our last attack," Marco says. "With the help of Shanks and a commander from the resistance we have a few weeks at most before he regains his strength. If we move quickly, we can catch him off guard."

Whitebeard nods, his anger giving way to resolve. He pulls his halberd free from the deck and stands tall, his presence commanding and unyielding. "Very well. Call the commanders. We'll have the meeting immediately."

Marco nods and turns to relay the order. As the commanders gather, the crew moves with a renewed sense of urgency, the weight of the upcoming battle settling over them like a shroud. The evening air is thick with anticipation, the promise of conflict looming ever closer. Marco had called for Shanks and his crew to join them at the table that was set up in the middle of the main deck. Both parties were tense as the two emperors shared words of a new contract. For now, the two sea emperors were going to form an alliance. 

The commanders gather around the large table set up in the middle of the main deck. The sea breeze carries whispers of the upcoming battle, mingling with the grim determination etched on each face. Whitebeard stands at the head of the table, his imposing figure a symbol of unyielding strength. Beside him, Marco and the other commanders wait with bated breath.

From the side, Shanks steps forward, his ship still docked beside the Moby Dick. Whitebeard acknowledges him with a grim nod, motioning for him to join the meeting. Shanks takes a seat, his expression serious.

“Shanks,” Whitebeard begins, his voice tinged with a father's concern, “I need you to debrief me on the last two months. What happened while my daughter was with you?”

Shanks glances around the table, noting the anxious faces of the commanders. He takes a deep breath before speaking, his tone grave. “We were operating out of the West Blue, where we discovered Blackbeard's secondary base of operations for his experiments. This place was crucial for his plans, a meeting point where he and Caesar Clown would discuss the progress of their projects.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “One of these projects was Sedative-22, designed to destroy haki. The other was a devil fruit serum, a concoction meant to nullify and almost destroy a person's devil fruit abilities.”

Murmurs of shock ripple through the commanders. Whitebeard’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening on his halberd. Shanks continues, his voice steady despite the heavy revelation.

“It was unfortunate timing,” Shanks says, his expression darkening. “Caesar and Monet were on site when they arrived. It was true that this mission was supposed to be recon only, however by surprise your daughter was taken hostage. They managed to capture them.”

A collective gasp fills the air, the commanders palling at the news. Whitebeard's face hardens, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Marco's jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides, he wished he was there to protect you. It was in the past though, this was now, and he and the rest of the commanders who were at the table had a second chance to exact their revenge for you.

Shanks presses on, his gaze meeting Whitebeard’s. “They subjected her to their experiments. The effects of the serum and Sedative-22 were severe. She fought hard, but it took a toll on her devil fruit powers and her haki. I should also mention that when the commander of the revolutionary army found her they had also subjected her to torture, I’m not sure to what end they would do this, but lacerations were found on the back. Effectively, removing the wings.”

“How do you know it was to remove the wings?” Izou asked, his face palling and hands gripping it on the table.

“From the reports gathered at the site the effects of the serum nullify the devil fruit powers. With the effects taken away any remaining attributes of the devil fruit remain. I can only guess that they were flying when they were hit with the serum. Additionally, the commander also found the discarded wings in the room where they were being held.”

Whitebeard's knuckles turn white as he grips his halberd. The table shakes slightly under the force of his barely contained fury. “Those bastards,” he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “They will pay for this.”

“How long were they in the facility?” Namur asked, his teeth barred at the red haired pirates.

“They were there for three days.” Shanks replied grimly.

“Why wait so long before entering into the territory?” Curiel asked. He gripped his weapon that was attached to his side. He looked to his side and saw that King dew was holding his wrist, shaking his head no, Curiel sighed and let go of the weapon.

The weight of Shanks’ words hangs heavy in the air as silence settles over the table. The tension is palpable, each commander bracing for what comes next. Shanks finally breaks the silence, his voice filled with guilt.

Shanks’ eyes were downcast. “We made an agreement to wait three days, this allowed them time to survey the islands, after those three days we were to make our move. I feel responsible for what happened. If I hadn’t delayed, perhaps they wouldn’t have gone through so much trauma. However, none of us were expecting both Monet and Caesar to be on site. Monet must have used her snow to survey the land while they were there. That’s the only reason I could think of for them getting caught.”

Whitebeard’s eyes flash with anger, his growl a low rumble that sends a shiver through the gathered commanders. “You let my daughter suffer,” he snarls, his voice filled with accusation. “She’s broken and traumatized because of your decision.”

Shanks stands silent, bearing the brunt of Whitebeard’s rage. The other commanders shift uncomfortably, knowing better than to intervene. Whitebeard continues, his fury unabated. “When you arrived, I couldn’t sense them. It was strange, and now it all makes sense. The experiments, the serum… they did more damage than we realized.”

As Whitebeard’s words sink in, Shanks slowly stands. He walks around the table to where Whitebeard sits, and then, to everyone’s astonishment, he kneels. Bowing his head deeply, Shanks addresses Whitebeard with a tone of deep remorse. “I failed you and your daughter. I am deeply sorry.”

The deck is eerily quiet as the crew witnesses this rare display of humility from one of the world’s most powerful pirates. Whitebeard’s expression remains hard, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, it seems he might reject Shanks’ apology outright.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, Shanks,” Whitebeard says, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve lost my trust, and it will not be easily regained.” Whitebeard paused, “However, I too am partly to blame for the outcome of this mission. There were words shared amongst the crew after your departure, they too felt uneasy about the mission yet I still let my daughter leave.” Whitebeard’s attitude shifted and a grim expression plaster itself onto his face.

Shanks remains bowed, accepting the rebuke without protest. The commanders hold their breath, awaiting Whitebeard’s final judgment. 

Whitebeard’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening on his halberd. “But,” he continues, his tone slightly softening, “I will give you a chance to prove yourself again. We need every ally we can muster in the war to come. Don’t squander this opportunity, Shanks.”

A collective sigh of relief passes through the crew, though the tension doesn’t completely dissipate. Shanks lifts his head, gratitude and determination in his eyes. “Thank you, Whitebeard. I won’t let you down again.”

Whitebeard gives a curt nod, his expression still stern. “See that you don’t. For now, we have more pressing matters. We must strategize ourselves.”

Shanks returns to his seat, his resolve to make amends evident in his every move.

The meeting continues, the air thick with the promise of retribution. The commanders are unified in their purpose, their loyalty to Whitebeard and each other unshaken. As the plans are finalized, the crew prepares for the battle ahead, their spirits steeled by the trials they’ve endured and the bonds that hold them together.

In the heart of the ship, you remain asleep, unaware of the storm gathering around you. But in the eyes of your comrades, there is a fierce determination—a promise that they will fight for you, and for the world, with everything they have. The final war is on the horizon, and with it, the chance to set things right.

As the meeting progresses, the commanders and Whitebeard turn their focus to the war plans. The table is strewn with maps and documents, each piece of paper a potential strategy or crucial bit of intelligence. The discussions are intense, each commander offering insights and suggestions.

"We need to strike hard and fast," Marco begins, pointing to a spot on the map where Blackbeard's forces are likely weakest. "A surprise attack here could give us the upper hand."

Vista nods, his keen eyes assessing the terrain. "We should also consider a diversion. Draw some of Blackbeard's forces away from their main stronghold. It would split their attention and resources."

Izou chimes in, his voice calm but resolute. "We have allies in the New World who can assist us. If we coordinate our efforts, we can hit Blackbeard from multiple fronts."

Whitebeard listens intently, his eyes scanning the map. "Shanks," he says, turning to the red-haired pirate, "will your crew be ready to assist us in this strike?"

Shanks nods firmly. "We will be. Our ships are ready, and my crew is eager to put an end to Blackbeard's schemes."

Whitebeard's gaze sweeps over his commanders, a sense of unity and purpose solidifying among them. "Then it's settled. We'll strike once we receive confirmation from our allies, using the plan as our foundation. Each of you has your assignments. Prepare your men, ensure our ships are ready, and above all, stay vigilant."

As the commanders disperse to relay the orders and ready their divisions, the atmosphere on the Moby Dick shifts. The crew moves with renewed purpose, their steps quick and determined. The air buzzes with the energy of preparation, the promise of battle sharpening their focus.

Marco lingers for a moment, catching Whitebeard's eye. "Thank you, Captain," he says quietly. "For understanding."

“If I have to save the world to save my daughter, then so be it. Then I'm damn sure I'm gonna do it!” Whitebeard exclaimed as his haki let out a thundering crack. His determination was strong and fierce. He would get his daughter back, no matter the cost. Marco nodded along resolutely. The pact made between him and Shanks is still fresh in his mind, he would help you, carry you, if he must. You will come back to them. Whatever the cost.

Whitebeard then held onto his son, a gaze of concern washing through his facial features.

"Marco," he begins, his voice softer but still carrying the weight of a captain's authority, "I was worried when you left so suddenly. All I had was a letter from Thatch explaining your departure."

Marco looks down, a hint of shame coloring his features. "I know, pops," he says, his voice heavy with the burden of his decision. "Leaving like that, without proper notice... It wasn't easy. But I don't regret it. I had to go. They needed me."

Whitebeard hums in response, the sound deep and thoughtful. His eyes, though stern, hold a flicker of relief. He nods toward Marco, a gesture of both acknowledgment and gratitude. "What matters now is that you're both back safely. We have a battle to prepare for, and we'll need every ounce of strength and loyalty we can muster."

Marco lifts his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Yes, pops. We'll be ready."

With a final nod, Marco turns and joins the flurry of activity, ready to lead his men into the fray. The ship comes alive with the sounds of preparation, the crew's resolve echoing across the sea. The final war looms on the horizon, a storm ready to break, and the Moby Dick sails forward, unyielding and resolute. The Red Force followed steadily behind. 

Shanks knew he had to get you back on your feet soon. It was maybe a fortnight before the other allies responded and they were all off to war. He felt lucky that you already had a solid foundation to your fighting skills, he just needed to help you feel sure of yourself enough to get you back into the fight. 

With everything underway a few of the Whitebeard Commanders found themselves sitting in a lounging room beneath the main deck. 

“I didn’t know all of that went on while they were away, shit, I feel so bad!” Thatch groaned as he combed his long hair with his fingers nervously. “Now we’re about to go head to head with another Emperor of the sea?!” He slumped into the chair and held his face.

“We’re all feeling guilty about the outcome but worry about it isn’t going to help them get back on their feet.” Izou chided, he was try to not pick at his fingers, they had already been beaten up enough.

“I’m gonna fuck up Blackbeard so hard that even hell won’t be able to recognize him when he arrives.” Haruta growled as he threw a knife at the wall.

“Enough Haruta!” Marco chided as he walked into the room. He had checked up on you and you were sleeping fitfully, but you were resting.

“We were worried when you left, y’know?” Namur spoke as he grabbed the knives Haruta had thrown into the wall. He gave the younger pirate a scowl before setting the knives down on the center table.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He said as he sighed and slumped into the seat beside Thatch.

“It’ll take more than just an apology, you kinda screwed up there mate.” Thatch mumbled.

“You know we don’t just go off on our own without speaking to the captain first.” Izou added on.

“Just be glad he’s actually not fucking pissed off at you!” Namur said.

“I know, it’s just, it was urgent. I don’t know how to explain it.” Marco grumbled.

“Then tell us the long story, we deserve that much. Your message was so vague to begin with.” Thatch grumbled equally as he sat up and stared at his friend, his brother. Marco looked around the room and saw that they were all giving him various degrees of glares.

So, he decided to tell them of his phoenix and the ability he had. He told them of his awareness of other devil fruit holders and how they left imprints on him. He told them that he thought this was his phoenix’s way of knowing who was friend and who was foe. He also told them that when yours disappeared his Phoenix flew into a worried rage and urged him to leave the ship.

“So, I guess that explains why you were being such a pain in the ass than usual the morning before your departure.” Izou nods in understanding.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“Hmm, well I guess I’m glad in the end.” Haruta hummed as he fiddled with the knives once more.

“How are they anyways? They didn’t look too happy, they looked almost distant when you arrived.” Izou asked the one question Marco wished was overlooked.

“They’re not well. In the days following their rescue they have been breaking apart slowly. Whatever happened to them tore down everything that they had built. Some nights I could hear them mumble about people we don’t know. Hear them nearly cry themselves awake. It was hard to watch if I’m being honest. All the more reason to kill Blackbeard and the fucking clown.”

“I still can’t get over the part where Shanks said they had lost their wings. Will they even be able to fly again?” Haruta said. His face was pale.

“I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things for once. I’m just taking it day by day.” Marco spoke softly. Izou set a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked down to his friend and brother and smiled solemnly.

“We will do this together. Whatever it is you need we are here to help. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

Marco scoffed.

“That’s what I told them as well when we were on the Red Force.”

“It’s true, we will work together to help them get back on their feet!” Thatch chimed in. 

Everyone else that was in the room hummed in agreement at the proclamation. Marco couldn’t help but feel content at the aid. He was genuinely at a loss for things he could do to help you. His phoenix for once in the past few weeks has been silent, almost seeping with a passion he missed. 

They were going to help you, not matter what. You were their friend, their family.

Chapter Text

Years ago, a small child sits, waiting, hoping.

You find yourself in the opulent playroom of your home estate in Mary Geoise, the land of paradise and sunshine, a sanctuary of luxury where every corner sparkles with the gleam of expensive toys. The room is filled with treasures gifted to you and your brother, Newt, on birthdays, holidays, and special events. Ornate shelves hold intricate models, plush animals, and colorful blocks. The playroom is a kaleidoscope of joy, a place where worries should be left behind.

Newt, your younger brother, sits on the plush carpet, his small hands busy with a bright, intricately detailed toy ship. He giggles softly, his wide eyes reflecting the colors around him, lost in his own little world of adventure and imagination. You try to immerse yourself in your own toys, attempting to build a grand tower with blocks that are smooth and cool to the touch.

But the raised voices from the other room seep through the thick walls, shattering the illusion of peace. Your parents are arguing again, the words indistinguishable yet heavy with emotion. You’re too young to grasp the meaning behind their fight, but the tension in their voices is unmistakable, a sharp contrast to the warmth and safety of your playroom.

You glance at Newt, his innocence untouched by the discord. His laughter bubbles up again as he clumsily stacks blocks, only for them to tumble down moments later. You envy his ability to remain oblivious, his world untainted by the outside noise.

Determined to shield yourself from the unsettling sounds, you reach for another toy—a plush bird with golden and blue tinted feathers. You place it into Newt’s hands, hoping to distract both him and yourself. He accepts it with a delighted squeal, hugging the bird tightly before turning back to his blocks.

You focus on his joy, trying to drown out the background noise. You pick up a toy car, its sleek design a marvel of craftsmanship, and roll it towards Newt. He watches it with fascination, his earlier toy momentarily forgotten. You manage a small smile, finding solace in his happiness.

The argument continues, but you push it away, immersing yourself in the simple act of play. In this moment, it's just you and Newt, surrounded by the best gifts money can buy, creating a bubble of contentment within the storm of adult conflict.

You build another tower, higher this time, with Newt's cheerful babbling as your only escape. For now, this is your world—a playroom filled with wonder, shared with your baby brother, a refuge from the complexities you’re too young to understand.

As you and Newt continue to play, the world of your playroom is momentarily at peace, a fragile bubble of joy and innocence. Your tower is nearly complete, and Newt is absorbed in making his plush bird chirp. Suddenly, the door swings open, and your mother enters, her face streaked with tears.

You pause, the toy car in your hand forgotten. Your mother walks over to Newt, who bubbles with laughter as she picks him up. He pats her tear-streaked face with tiny hands, fascinated by the wetness on her cheeks, unaware of the sorrow behind it. His innocent giggles fill the room, a stark contrast to the sadness etched in your mother's eyes.

You look up at her, your own face a canvas of confusion and concern. She meets your gaze and manages a shaky smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She extends her free hand towards you. Hesitant at first, you eventually place your small hand in hers, feeling the familiar warmth and reassurance despite the turmoil you sense.

Your mother gently leads you out of the playroom, Newt still in her arms, his laughter punctuating the tense silence. You walk past the opulent living room, its grandeur a stark contrast to the tension in the air. As you follow behind your mother, you can't help but glance into the room.

There, you see your father, his expression stormy and his appearance disheveled. He paces the room, hands clenched and jaw tight. The sight of him like this sends a ripple of unease through you, but you don't understand the reasons behind his anger. All you know is that something is terribly wrong.

Your mother's hand tightens slightly around yours, guiding you forward. You pull your gaze away from your father and focus on the path ahead. The hallways of home, usually so grand and awe-inspiring, now seem like a maze leading away from a world of adult worries you can't yet comprehend.

You walk together, your mother's steps determined yet gentle. Newt continues to babble and laugh, his tiny fingers now tugging at a strand of your mother's hair. You hold onto her hand tightly, finding comfort in the connection, and as you move further from the living room, the oppressive weight of the argument slowly lifts.

Following your mother’s lead, you step out into the sprawling, luxurious yard that stretches as far as the eye can see. The manicured lawn, dotted with vibrant flowers, feels like a world away from the tension inside. The fresh air brings a sense of relief, the garden a sanctuary of calm and beauty.

Your mother sets Newt down gently on the soft grass, urging him to explore the flowers. He toddles over to a patch of bright daisies, his laughter ringing out as he reaches for the colorful petals. You stay close to your mother, sitting down beside her on the cool ground. The scent of blooming flowers fills the air, a sweet contrast to the bitter undercurrent of worry you sense from her.

Tears stream silently down your mother’s face as she watches Newt play. Her expression is distant, eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts you can’t begin to understand. The weight of her sadness presses down on you, heavy and confusing. You reach out, tugging gently on the hem of her chiffon dress. She turns to look at you, her eyes filled with a sorrow that seems to come from somewhere deep within.

There is a moment of silence before she manages a faint, tired smile. “Go on, dear,” she urges softly. “Play with your brother.”

You hesitate, the gravity of the situation is too complex for your young mind to grasp, but the sadness in her eyes makes you want to obey. You nod and rise to your feet, walking over to where Newt is now completely engrossed in his discovery of the garden.

You join him, crouching down to examine the flowers he’s so fascinated by. You pick a bright red bloom, showing it to Newt, who giggles and reaches out to touch it. The simple act of playing together helps to distract you from the weight of the unseen troubles hanging over your family.

Your mother sits alone on the grass, her tears continuing to fall as she watches you both. You steal glances at her, feeling a pang of worry and sadness for her, but you’re too young to understand what’s really happening. For now, you focus on making Newt laugh, finding comfort in the simplicity of his joy.

The afternoon stretches on, the sun casting long shadows across the yard. Your mother remains seated, her sorrow a tangible weight pressing down on the idyllic garden. You and Newt continue to play, your brother's giggles a temporary distraction from the heavy atmosphere.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching. You turn to see one of the maids walking toward you, her expression somber yet gentle. “It’s time for lunch,” she calls out, her voice breaking the quiet. Both you and Newt cheer in delight, the prospect of food and a change of scene bringing a welcome burst of excitement.

Your mother, still lost in her grief, looks up briefly. “Take them in,” she instructs the maid, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t... I can’t be inside right now.”

The maid nods, understanding and sympathy mingling in her eyes. She picks up Newt, who clings to her with an innocent smile, and then extends her hand to you. You take it without hesitation, the warmth of her touch reassuring.

As you walk away, you glance back at your mother. Her face, once beautiful and full of life, now shows lines of stress and sorrow. She looks at you and Newt with a mix of love and something darker, a flicker of contempt that sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t understand the depth of her pain or the reasons behind her expression, but you feel its impact nonetheless.

The maid leads you toward the house, her grip on your hand firm yet kind. “Come on, little ones,” she says, trying to infuse some cheer into her voice. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Newt babbles happily in her arms, oblivious to the tension. You try to focus on the promise of lunch, the familiar comfort of the dining room, and the routine of mealtime. Yet, the look on your mother’s face lingers in your mind, a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

As you enter the house, the opulent surroundings offer a stark contrast to the emotional turbulence you've just left behind. The maid sets Newt down in his high chair and helps you into your seat. 

As you and Newt wait for lunch to be served, your eyes wander to the hallway. Through the open door, you see your father pacing back and forth, clutching several papers in his hands. His face, usually so composed, is now etched with a look of distant fear, making him seem older and more fragile. The sight is unsettling, a silent testament to the troubles weighing heavily on your family.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the maid returns, carrying a tray with your lunch. Your excitement for a grand meal fades as she places bowls of simple soup and slices of bread in front of you. You scowl, pushing the bowl away slightly. “Where’s the good food?” you demand, your voice tinged with the impatience of a child used to luxury.

The maid smiles sadly, her eyes reflecting the same quiet sorrow you’ve seen in your mother’s. “We need to go grocery shopping,” she explains gently. “We’ll have something special next time.”

Her response, though simple, appeases you. You nod and pick up your spoon, the hunger in your belly overriding your initial disappointment. You begin to eat, the taste of the lackluster soup and plain bread filling your mouth. Newt, less discerning, digs into his meal with gusto, his cheerful babbling providing a backdrop to the subdued meal.

The opulent dining room, with its gleaming silverware and ornate decor, stands in stark contrast to the modest meal before you. The grandeur of the surroundings feels almost hollow now, a fading reminder of the wealth that is slowly slipping away from your family’s grasp.

As you eat, you glance again toward the hallway where your father was pacing. The papers in his hands, the fear in his eyes—they are pieces of a puzzle you are too young to solve. For now, you can only focus on the immediate, the soup and bread that warm your belly, the laughter of your baby brother, and the quiet presence of the maid who watches over you with a mixture of care and concern.

A month has passed, and the once occasional arguments between your parents have become a daily occurrence. Their voices, raised in anger and frustration, echo through the halls of your home, no longer hidden behind closed doors. The once comforting walls of home estate now feel oppressive, the grandeur a hollow facade for the turmoil within.

You try tirelessly to distract Newt from the relentless squabbling. You sing to him, play games, and create stories, anything to drown out the harsh words that permeate the air. But as the days go by, it becomes harder to shield him from the noise. He’s beginning to notice, his innocent eyes growing wide with confusion and fear.

A sense of dread looms over the family, a dark cloud that grows heavier with each passing argument. You long for the days when your home was filled with laughter, when your mother and father looked at each other with love instead of anger. The happiness of your old life feels like a distant memory, slipping further away with every shout and every tear.

One day, as you’re trying to keep Newt entertained in the playroom, the argument escalates to a new intensity. The shouting is louder, more vicious, and you can feel the tension in the air. Suddenly, the door bursts open, and your father storms in, his face a mask of fury. Without a word, he grabs you roughly by the arm, yanking you away from Newt.

“Let go of my daughter!” your mother screams, her voice filled with a mix of rage and desperation. She follows closely, pleading and yelling, but your father is unrelenting.

You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you try to pull away. His grip is tight and unforgiving, his anger palpable. The world blurs around you, a whirlwind of fear and confusion. “Daddy, please!” you sob, but your pleas fall on deaf ears.

He drags you into another room, slamming the door shut behind him. Your mother’s shouts are muffled but persistent, a backdrop to the harsh reality of your father’s wrath. You can see the strain in his face, the lines of worry and anger that have aged him beyond his years.

“Why can’t you behave?” he snaps, his voice harsh and cutting. “Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

You don’t understand what you did wrong. You don’t understand why everything has changed so much. All you know is that the man who once carried you on his shoulders, who once told you bedtime stories, now feels like a stranger.

Tears blur your vision, and you cry harder, feeling small and powerless. You want your mother. You want the arguments to stop. You want your family back.

But in this moment, all you can do is cry, the weight of your father’s anger pressing down on you, the echo of your mother’s desperate pleas ringing in your ears. The opulent surroundings of your hollow home offer no comfort, only a stark contrast to the pain and confusion that have taken over your once-happy home.

As you stand there, tears streaming down your face, you see a change in your father's expression. The anger fades, replaced by a desperate urgency. His eyes, red and tear-streaked, soften as he kneels down to your level, releasing his grip on your arm. His roughness is replaced by a gentle touch as he strokes your head softly, the sudden tenderness a stark contrast to his earlier fury.

You step back, confused and frightened, but also curious. “Daddy, what’s wrong? I want our old life back. Why are you and mommy always fighting?”

He doesn’t answer your questions directly. Instead, he looks at you with a mixture of desperation and hope. “You’re the only one who can help us, sweetheart. We’re going to lose everything—our status as Celestial Dragons, our home, everything. But you can save us.”

The words are too big for you to fully understand, but you can feel the weight of them. You just want things to be okay again, to see your parents smile at each other like they used to. “What do I have to do?” you ask, your voice small and trembling.

Your father’s face lights up with a manic energy. “There’s a special fruit, a very special fruit that I have. It has the power to change everything. You must eat it. It’s the only way.”

You nod slowly, not fully comprehending but willing to do anything to help your family. Tears continue to streak your face as you look into your father’s eyes, searching for the reassurance you so desperately need.

Seeing your nod, your father’s demeanor shifts completely. He stands up abruptly, his movements quick and almost frantic. “Wait here, my dear. I’ll get it right now!” He rushes out of the room, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and the lingering echoes of your mother’s distant cries.

You stand there, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You don’t understand the details, but you know that something very important is happening. All you want is for things to go back to normal, for the arguments to stop, and for your family to be happy again.

As you step out of the room you watch your father’s figure retreating down the empty hallway. The opulent corridor, once filled with family heirlooms and treasures, now stands barren and desolate. The absence of luxury items that once lined the walls and shelves strikes you deeply, a visual testament to the decline of your family’s fortunes.

You wonder where it all went—the paintings, the ornate vases, the glittering trinkets that used to signify your family’s esteemed status. The echoing emptiness of the hallway feels heavy, as if the very walls themselves mourn the loss of their former grandeur.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden presence of your mother. She rushes into the room, her face a mask of worry and exhaustion. Without a word, she pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you as if afraid to let go. You feel her trembling, her breath shaky as she clings to you.

Though she says nothing, you can sense the silent plea in her heart. She is hoping against hope that whatever plan your father has concocted will work, that the strange fruit you will soon consume will somehow restore your family’s lost glory. She yearns for the days when they were revered, seen in the light of the gods, and she desperately wishes for a return to that divine favor.

You hug her back, the comfort of her familiar scent mingling with your own fears and hopes. You want to tell her that everything will be okay, but the words catch in your throat. You don’t understand the full scope of what’s happening, but you feel the weight of it all pressing down on you.

Your mother pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes with a fragile smile. “It will be alright, my love,” she whispers, though her voice wavers with uncertainty. “We just have to believe.”

You nod, trying to muster up a smile of your own. “I believe,” you say softly, more to reassure her than yourself.

She kisses your forehead, then stands, and walks out of the room leaving you alone with all your fears and worries.

Later that evening, as the moonlight casts long shadows through your bedroom window, your father enters the room. He carries a box in his hands, his smile twisted into something devious and hopeful. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, a sense of unease settling in your chest.

He kneels beside your bed, placing the box in front of you. “Here, my dear,” he says, his voice low and insistent. “This is the special gift I was telling you about.”

You look up at him, your small hands trembling as you clutch your blanket. “What’s in it?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His eyes glint with something dark and unsettling, a far cry from the father you used to know. “It’s the fruit,” he replies, his tone growing sharper. “The fruit that will save us.”

Trusting your gut, you shake your head in fear. “I don’t want it,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want our old life back. I want my daddy back. You’re scary.”

His expression abruptly sours, the hope in his eyes replaced by a cold, menacing glare. “You must eat the fruit,” he demands, his voice growing harsher. “It’s the only way.”

You try to back away, shaking your head more vigorously. “No, please!” you cry, the tears now streaming down your face. “I don’t want it!”

Your refusal only seems to fuel his anger. He grabs your wrist, forcing the box open and thrusting the fruit toward you. “Eat it!” he shouts, his grip tightening painfully.

The skirmish that follows is chaotic and terrifying. You struggle against him, trying to push the fruit away, but he is relentless. His once gentle hands are now rough and unforgiving, his desperation driving him to force you into compliance.

Finally, in the midst of your sobs and his shouts, he manages to push the fruit into your mouth. The taste is vile, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you gag, trying to spit it out. But he holds your jaw, making sure you swallow.

You’re crying uncontrollably now, the taste lingering in your mouth as a symbol of your father’s betrayal. He releases you, his face a mixture of triumph and exhaustion.

“There, it’s done,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Everything will be alright now.”

But as you lie there, tears soaking your pillow, you feel nothing but a deep, crushing sorrow. The fruit’s taste is a bitter reminder of how much has changed, how much you’ve lost. The father who once loved you, who once made you feel safe, is now a stranger driven by desperation.

In the dim light of your room, the shadows seem to grow longer, enveloping you in a darkness that matches the heaviness in your heart. You don’t understand the full scope of what’s happening, but you know that the innocence and happiness of your old life are gone, replaced by a fear and uncertainty that now haunts you every moment.

You don’t feel any different yet, but you hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this strange fruit will bring back the happiness that has been missing from your family for so long. The tears on your face begin to dry, replaced by a fragile sense of hope that things will finally get better.

Chapter Text

Izou

Izou had retreated to his room to ruminate over the mountain's weight worth of information that he heard yesterday evening upon your arrival. There were things that he wanted to do, mostly violent and volatile things. Things like putting several bullets into the chest of Caesar Clown and his green haired assistant Monet. Then there were the less aggressive things like somehow destroying anything related to the drugs and devil fruit nullifiers. How those two things ended up destroying a person so intimately was beyond his knowledge, he just knew that they were a threat, a large one at that, and they needed to be destroyed– like the void century, forgotten. Forgotten and never to be brought to light again. Izou pondered these thoughts while cleaning every pistol, rifle and weapon in his arsenal. It helped him stay focused on the way he could help you. 

You have been resting for hours now. Having passed out after arriving everyone was told not to go to your room, not to interact with you in any way until you woke up. He found it hard because on one hand he wanted to divulge the adventure you had been on and on the other he wanted to console you and hold you close and just protect you from all the hellish things you had gone through; losing your devil fruit? Even his own rage wasn’t enough. He felt empty in that regard. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t have the ability to bring it back. In the end he felt utterly useless in that regard. He hoped that Haruta, Namur, Thatch, Ace or even Marco would have any ideas to help you in that endeavor. 

Izou thought about all the things that you liked, disliked, and down-right adored. He wondered if bringing you any sense of comfort was enough to get you back on your feet. He promised Marco that this was a team effort and he was more than willing to put his heart and soul on the line to help in any way he could. 

However, all the things you liked are all based around flying and fighting. Again, a dead-end. Maybe it was time to smash the dead-end into pieces, forge a new way forward. It was a thought, but it required a great deal of inspiration which Izou felt like he was lacking at the moment. 

He pondered these thoughts relentlessly until the early dawn. In the end he came to the soft conclusion that maybe just tending to you and taking care of your physical well-being was going to be his top priority until he thought of something better. If your past was anything to go by then he would do it all over again. He would brush your hair, do you make-up to bring back a sense of self, and dress you in clothes that made you feel soft and comfortable, and have tea with you for company. He could do that much. 

With a nod of affirmation to his own vow he put away his weapons and prayed silently that this coming war was swift.

Haruta

Haruta was on night watch, curled up in the crows nest overlooking the dark horizon for any sign of Blackbeard's ships. Whitebeard had commanded a twenty-four hour constant watch. Haruta, feeling guilty, had asked to take on the majority of the shifts. Whitebeard grumbled out in protest but agreed nevertheless. While on his watch he thought about how before this whole shitfest you would sneak out into the night and glide around on clear nights around the ship. You would only do so when you knew that either Haruta or Ace were on night watch. He smiled at the fond memory and then scowled because how could someone so cruel take another's source of pride and livelihood. 

Haruta wanted to do something, anything to help you back on your feet. Marco’s warning of your regressive state was startling and it tore his heart apart. He wanted to stab Caesar and rip off Blackbeard's head for going too far into his delusions of a world without devil fruits and haki. Haruta only heard rumors of his desires because of his inability to hold either things. Blackbeard was just a pirate. No devil fruit, not even haki. His hatred for his own lacking skills is what drove him to this madness; Haruta thought as he cleaned and sharpened his blade. 

For the remainder of his shift he thought and he watched. By the time a member of his division climbed up the ladder to the crows nest is when he decided that he would lend his blade and might to the fight solely for your own revenge. He knew you would seek it out when you were feeling better– he hoped you would wake soon. He wanted to see you smile and he wanted to see you flourish under the sun once again. You had only been able to taste freedom for only a handful of days. He had doubted you had ever tasted freedom ever since they had found you at Sabaody.  Then the incident which landed you boatbound for years. He grumbled out obscenities to his captain for doing that, but he also could kind of understand his captain's reasoning. The first moment you had landed on the ship, his captain, his pops had grown so deeply fond of you that his worry for your safety drove him to great and hurtful lengths to make sure you were never hurt again. It was here where he hurt you in the most profound way one could. Haruta would so his worst and violent swordsman ship that Blackbeard would have nightmares even in hell. This is what he would contribute to your cause.

Namur

Namur glided through the waters that encompassed the Moby. He was an underwater sentry that kept his eye out for any trouble that loomed in the dark depths of the open seas. So far there were looming sea kings and other non aggressive animals that swam about. Thankfully with Whitebeards radiating haki the sea kings were no more than just shadows looming in the distance. The did not dare to try his hand. Granted Namur knew that his captain was beyond pissed at the set of events that had taken place over the last two months and was beyond hells rage for the coming future. 

Namur was a fighter, and yet he had seen no more war than Marco. He knew that he was out of his league in this situation. And he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t more than a little scared of the future. Normally Namur was composed and eager to fight, but war? This was a completely different playground. The losses in this were fueled by rage and vengefulness, not the eagerness of men wanting gold or status.

The only thing that was fueling his grueling and sleepless watch was his eagerness to help you in your time of need. He didn’t know you as well as the others but he had his fair share of exchanges with you even if it was only just to save you from drawing to death. 

Your early years on the ship were you learning how to fly and you had always constantly lost your ability mid flight. Marco had made it a point to let you fall into the water in the hopes that it would motivate you to work harder in maintaining your ability. Luckily, you were a quick learner and sooner than he hoped you had gotten the hang of your powers. Unbeknownst to you, he quite enjoyed going into the murky and cold waters of the grand line to save your ass. It made him feel useful but above all else he relished his job in your climb to becoming a fully fledged Whitebeard Pirate. In that, he would give it his all to help.

Thatch

Thatch was furiously working in the kitchens alongside his division. For the first time in ages he was quiet. His usual talkative and outgoing demeanor was gone. The threat of war and the threat of your own wellbeing was pushing him to new limits he didn’t know existed. He was cooking meals that were dense in calories and protein. He wanted his friends to be well fed and ready to fight viciously. 

He also wanted you to get back on your feet and the only way he knew how was to prepare foods that you loved. That included loads of salmon, trout, fishcakes and above all else Taiyaki. Taiyaki was your favorite snack that first got you to come out of your shell when you first decided to talk. At first it was the only thing that he could get you to eat yet, after a while when he had prepared a particularly tasty seafood boil you opened up to the idea of eating a pescatarian diet. It was then that Whitebeard noted what kind of devil fruit you had– or at least he was able to guess pretty easily from then on. 

Thatch had delighted in mapping out new meals for you to try and once you had become fully integrated into the family you began to also make suggestions that he was more than happy to follow. He wanted to make sure you had the best of the best. You had also been happy to go fishing whenever you had a spare chance, the thrill of catching something new to try was always alluring. 

He wanted this you back and not the one that was built on the scars and abuse that you had come from. 

Ace

The days following your departure Ace had found himself feeling lonelier than he had felt in a long time. Being close in age has always allowed you two to find something in common. Not to mention he was the one that had gotten you to open up in the first place. You reminded him of himself– stubborn and reluctant. Just the same as when he had joined the Whitebeard pirates. Taking up on Marco’s will he was the one to come and approach you a a near daily basis. Yet, on the days you had tucked yourself in your room he couldn’t help but listen to his mates and leave you be for a few hours. Although it was his pure tenacious personality that had annoyed the shit out of you that you had yelled at him to ‘fuck off’. The smile that bloomed on his face was brighter than the sun. He had bragged about it for weeks afterwards. You had a bright red tint to your cheeks wherever he had wrapped his hand around your shoulders and pulled you close when he slapped the table and rambled on about he was the best and blah blah blah. Now? Well shit, he might as well burn the whole ocean. His fruit made him feel a rage he hadn’t felt before. It burned within him and even the slightest twist of his emotions made it swelter up and through his skin. There were tiny burn marks scattered throughout the ship. Each of them a testament to his growing rage and vengeance he wanted to enact on Blackbear and that damn clown. This was his only regret he could bear to live with.

Chapter Text

An older child stares, with grief, desire, and rage.

A year has passed, and the once vibrant home of your childhood has transformed into a hollow shell. The grand halls of your estate are now filled with echoes of what once was, with withering flowers in neglected vases and a creeping sense of decay. At six years old, you live in a house that feels more like a prison, the desire to escape growing stronger with each passing day.

Your father has taken you under his wing, not out of love, but out of a desperate need to reclaim the family’s fading status. He drills you endlessly, teaching you to harness the power of the devil fruit you were forced to consume. His obsession with preparing you for a life among the highest of nobility consumes him, and by extension, it consumes you.

Though your family is still regarded as Celestial Dragons, their standing has plummeted. The social circle that once embraced you now pushes you to its outer limits, treating you with indifference and scorn. Your father’s attempts to regain favor grow more frantic and futile with each passing day, his desperation a palpable weight that hangs over the household.

You have grown to despise him. The man who once held you with love now looks at you with expectations that feel impossible to meet. Yet, bound by the oath you silently keep to your family, you endure the restless and endless hours of training. Each session is a test of your will, a struggle between the desire to please your father and the burgeoning hatred you feel for him.

“Focus!” he barks during one of your many training sessions, his voice sharp and unforgiving. “You must control the power of the fruit. Do not disappoint the Celestial Dragons.”

You grit your teeth and nod, pushing your resentment deep down. You concentrate, trying to summon the abilities of the fruit. The power within you is wild and untamed, a constant reminder of the bitter fruit you were forced to choke down. Your father watches with hawk-like intensity, his eyes boring into you, searching for any sign of progress.

Newt, now a toddler, wanders the barren halls aimlessly, often peeking into your training sessions with wide, curious eyes. You sometimes catch his gaze, his once innocent eyes replaced with trepidation.

The younger boy of the house has grown to understand only within a short time the finality of their situation. In the late hours he crawls into bed with you crying. You try your best to quell those fears but he knew, you knew, everyone on the estate knew. The maids and servants had all left long ago leaving you alone with your family. Food had grown more bitter and bland. You tried not to care, and over time you had grown accustomed to the commoner foods. It wasn’t far off from the regular food you had originally eaten, just less spices and poor presentation.

Despite your father’s relentless training, the fruit’s power remains unpredictable. Each failure brings a new wave of his frustration, each success only a fleeting relief. You had come to understand that this devil fruit allowed you to sprout wings from your arms with a pair of bird legs that looked gross and undesirable. Your father grew restless in your attempts to present yourself in a way that would please the higher nobility of Mary Geoise. The joy that once filled your home has long since vanished, replaced by a relentless drive to meet the impossible standards set by your father.

“Are you not paying attention?” Your father barks from the corner of the room you were in. The only decoration was the fading and dust ridden walls and sun bleached rouge blinds, that were more pinkish-brown than anything else.

“I’m sorry.” You said re-focusing your attention on presenting brown and gold tinted wings. This time it was a success, but the feet that accompanied them still followed. This time though, instead of full bright yellow scaled feet with sharp brown talons there were splotches of yellow scales littering your legs. Your father paled and clasped his hands together.

“Again!” he said through gritted teeth. Your stomach growled.

“I’m hungry.” you protested.

“You’ll eat when you’ve only sprouted wings.” He retaliated gruffly. His gaze was distant, he was thinking. 

“They will come to assess you tomorrow. I just hope for my sake you're able to pull this off.” you glowered as he turned to leave. “Only come out of this room when you’ve pulled it off.” Without another word he left the empty room and left you alone with your thoughts.

As you struggle to control the fruit’s abilities, you cling to the memories of happier times. You remember the warmth of your mother’s embrace, the laughter that used to echo through the halls, and the feeling of safety and love. Those memories fuel your determination, even as they make the present reality all the more painful.

Your father’s desperation is a growing shadow, and you fear what lengths he will go to if you fail. But for now, you endure, pushing yourself to the brink each day, hoping that these sour feelings blooming in your chest do not overtake your senses. If not for your sake then for the sake of your baby brother. 

For several hours you were stuck in the desolate room, the light slowly fading from the room and filling it with darkness. You were slumped and wanted to desperately eat something. The one thing you were able to figure out about this damn devil fruit is how it made you more hungry than usual. 

Shaking your arms, the feathers that were attached to you fell to the floor. You had been able to successfully complete one transformation that your father would find satisfactory. There were no yellow splotches on your legs and the wings that sprouted from your arms were gleaming with a soft brown that seemed to twinkle in the setting sunlight. You thought that this would be satisfactory enough for the person who was meant to come see you tomorrow morning.

The morning light barely filters through the heavy curtains when your father bursts into your room, his footsteps heavy and hurried. The abruptness of his entrance jolts you awake, and before you can even sit up properly, his rough hand is shaking your shoulder.

“Get up,” he orders, his voice sharp and cold. There’s no gentleness in his touch, only the harshness that has become all too familiar over the past year. 

You rub your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep as your father looms over you, his expression a mixture of anxiety and sternness. “A representative of the Five Elders is here,” he says, his tone low and urgent. “They’ve come to assess you.”

The words send a jolt of fear through you, more potent than the rude awakening. You know what the Five Elders represent—power, authority, and the highest echelons of the Celestial Dragons’ world. The very thought of meeting one of their representatives makes your heart pound with anxiety.

Your father leans in closer, his eyes narrowing as he speaks in a harsh whisper. “The questions they will ask you are paramount to our family’s success. You must answer them correctly, without hesitation, without error. If you fail…” He pauses, his gaze hardening. “If you fail, you will never be allowed to step into this house again.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and threatening. You feel the weight of them pressing down on you, the pressure almost suffocating. The idea of being cast out, of losing what little remains of your home and family, terrifies you. But beneath the fear, there’s a flicker of defiance, a small part of you that resents the impossible expectations he places on you.

You nod slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I understand, Father,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he replies curtly, straightening up. “Get dressed quickly. We have no time to waste.”

As he turns and leaves the room, you sit on the edge of your bed, your heart racing. The room, once a place of comfort, now feels like a cage closing in on you. You force yourself to move, slipping out of bed and reaching for the clothes laid out for you. Each movement feels heavy, weighed down by the knowledge that everything rests on your shoulders. The memory of your father's harsh words echoes in your mind, urging you to hurry, to be perfect, to not disappoint.

You try to push the fear aside, to focus on the task at hand. But the uncertainty lingers, and as you dress, you can't help but wonder what the representative will ask, and whether you'll be able to give the right answers. A part of you desperately wants to succeed, not just for your father, but for the hope of returning to a life that feels like it’s slipping further and further out of reach.

With trembling hands, you finish dressing and take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. As you step out of your room and into the hallway, you see your father waiting for you, his expression unreadable.

“Remember what I told you,” he says as he leads you toward the front of the house. The once-grand halls are now eerily silent, the barren walls a reminder of the stakes. Each step feels like a march toward something inevitable, something that could change your life forever.

When you reach the front door, you see the representative standing there, tall and imposing, their presence radiating authority. Your father gives you one last look, a mixture of hope and warning in his eyes.

This is it. The moment that will determine everything.

The representative of the Five Elders stood at the entrance, his presence commanding and intimidating. His speckled black beard, streaked with hints of gray, framed a stern face, and his beady blue eyes scrutinized everything with an unsettling intensity. He glanced between you and your father, his gaze lingering momentarily on the empty space where your mother should have been. A silent judgment passed over his features, though he said nothing of her absence.

After what felt like an eternity, the representative pulled out a notepad, the sound of the pages turning breaking the tense silence. He began asking you a series of questions, his tone flat and methodical. “What does your daily diet consist of?” he inquired, his pen poised to write. You responded as best as you could, listing the foods your father had ensured were part of your meals—lean meats, fruits, and vegetables. Each word felt like a step on a tightrope, one wrong answer and everything could crumble beneath you.

“Describe your exercise regimen,” he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. You recounted the physical training your father had imposed—running, strength exercises, drills to build endurance. The representative’s pen scratched across the paper, every stroke sounding like a judgment in itself.

He then moved on to extracurricular activities, asking if you were involved in any studies or practices outside of your physical training. You hesitated briefly, your mind racing to recall the lessons in etiquette, the sparse tutoring in history and politics. As you listed them, you noticed your father’s posture relax ever so slightly, a sign that you were meeting his expectations.

Finally, the representative looked up from his notepad, his expression more focused. “Have you been able to use the devil fruit?” he asked, his voice carrying a weight that made your heart pound.

You felt your father’s sharp nudge, the silent glare burning into you, urging you to not mess this up. The pressure was overwhelming, a tidal wave of expectation crashing over you. You swallowed hard, your nervousness swelling in your chest as you prepared to demonstrate.

Taking a deep breath, you concentrated, feeling the strange energy of the devil fruit coursing through you. Slowly, your arms began to change, the skin giving way to feathers as wings sprouted, extending where your arms used to be. The transformation was swift and smooth, the plumage rich and vibrant. The wings flared out, impressive in their span, and you were careful to keep your posture steady, not allowing your nerves to betray you.

You looked down at your legs, noting with relief that there were no specks of yellow on them—a sign of a successful transformation in your eyes. The wings, strong and well-formed, felt like a triumph, a momentary victory in a life that had been filled with so much pressure and fear.

The representative observed the transformation with a critical eye, his face betraying little emotion. His pen moved across the notepad again, recording his observations. For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel a flicker of pride, thinking that perhaps you had done well, that you had not disappointed your father or the representative.

The tension in the air seemed to ease slightly as the representative finished his notes, closing the notepad with a quiet snap. The silence that followed was thick with anticipation as you waited for his final verdict, the weight of the entire encounter pressing down on your small shoulders.

Your father’s smile, a rare and fleeting expression of approval, warmed you for just a moment. It was the first genuine acknowledgment you had received from him since your life had turned upside down. The gratitude in his eyes was a stark contrast to the constant pressure and disappointment you had come to expect. For that brief moment, you felt a sense of accomplishment, as if you had finally managed to make him proud.

But the representative’s reaction quickly shattered the fragile sense of victory. He coughed, the sound sharp and dismissive, and his expression twisted into one of irritation as he turned his gaze toward your father. The disinterest in his eyes was palpable, and it sent a chill down your spine.

“This isn’t what I was expecting,” the representative said, his tone clipped and unimpressed. He shook his head slightly, as if disappointed by the display. “The people in Mary Geoise will train them to produce wings acceptable for the Dragons. The Celestial Dragons are very particular about what they want, and your family—” he paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked your father up and down, “—does not meet the requirements.”

The words struck like a blow. You saw the brief flicker of devastation in your father’s eyes, quickly masked by a stern, emotionless facade. The sense of accomplishment you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a gnawing fear and uncertainty. 

But then, the representative continued, his tone shifting slightly as he addressed your father. “However,” he said, “the child possesses a high chance of becoming someone of importance. Despite your family’s shortcomings, I will still take them. They may yet be of use.”

Your father’s face tightened at the words, the lines of stress and exhaustion deepening. He nodded stiffly, his gratitude toward you overshadowed by the sting of the representative’s judgment. The acknowledgment that you might still be of value, despite your family’s fall from grace, was a small consolation, but it was laced with the harsh reality that your worth was conditional, subject to the whims of those in power.

The representative’s eyes flicked back to you, his gaze calculating. “Prepare yourself,” he said flatly. “Your life will not be easy, but if you prove yourself, there may be a future for you among the Celestial Dragons.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving your father standing there, his expression unreadable. The weight of the situation settled heavily on your small shoulders. The fleeting moment of pride was gone, replaced by the cold realization that your future was now in the hands of strangers, your value determined not by who you were, but by what you could become.

As the representative walked away, you felt your father’s hand on your shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of the path that lay ahead. There were no words of comfort, no reassurances, just the lingering pressure to meet expectations that had been set far beyond your reach.

The house, once a symbol of your family’s status, now felt like a tomb, the withering flowers and empty halls a reflection of your family’s decline. The smile your father had given you moments ago seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the harsh realities that now dictated your life. And as you stood there, the weight of your future pressing down on you, you couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be a way to escape the fate that had been forced upon you.

The representative paused in the doorway, turning back to your father with a final, chilling instruction. “A carriage will arrive tomorrow morning to pick them up,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or compassion. “They must be ready by then. If they fail to make the carriage, any support from the Five Elders will be revoked, and your family will be shunned—never to return to your status.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the room, the threat clear and absolute. Your father, who had been silent, nodded in stiff acknowledgment. There was no room for argument, no possibility of negotiation. The stakes had never been higher, and the pressure on your young shoulders had never felt so crushing.

As the representative turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall, you stood frozen in the doorway, the reality of what was happening slowly sinking in. The gravity of it all—leaving your home, the uncertainty of what awaited you, the knowledge that your family’s future now rested on your ability to comply—wrapped around you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs.

You turned away from the door, feeling the panic clawing at your insides, and hurried to your room. Anxiety gnawed at your mind, each thought a sharp, relentless jab that made it hard to breathe. You could feel the panic picking away at your skin, making your hands shake as you pulled out a small suitcase and began packing.

Every item you placed in the suitcase felt like a farewell to the life you had known. The familiar comfort of your belongings offered no solace, only a reminder of what you were being forced to leave behind. You packed hastily, your movements frantic as your mind raced with restless thoughts—what if you weren’t good enough? What if you failed to meet their expectations? What would happen to your family?

The suitcase was nearly full when you heard a soft voice behind you. “Hello,” your younger brother, Newt, said as he stepped into the room. His voice was gentle, a small, innocent sound that cut through the storm of anxiety swirling in your mind.

You turned to face him, your heart aching as you saw him standing there, oblivious to the weight of the situation. His wide, curious eyes looked up at you, filled with the simple trust of a child who hadn’t yet grasped the reality of what was happening. The sight of him, so innocent and unburdened, brought tears to your eyes.

For a moment, the panic receded, replaced by a deep sadness that you couldn’t fully understand. For a moment an overwhelming need to scream at him to help you wrapped itself around you. Its vice grip is near impossible to escape. You breathed in, and then out.

You knelt down beside him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. His small hands patted your back, a comforting gesture that only made your heart ache more.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m packing,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head in that innocent, inquisitive way he always did.

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain something so complicated to someone so young. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully. “But I’ll come back. I promise.”

He looked at you with a seriousness that didn’t belong on his young face, as if he could sense that something was wrong. But he nodded, accepting your words without question, and gave you a small, reassuring smile.

The suitcase was packed, the reality of the situation more tangible than ever. As you looked down at Newt, you wished you could protect him from all of this, from the burden that had been placed on your shoulders. But there was no escaping the path that had been laid out for you.

With one last, shaky breath, you closed the suitcase and stood up, taking Newt’s hand in yours. You didn’t know what the future held, but you knew that you had to face it, for your family, for yourself, and for the hope that, somehow, things might one day return to the way they once were.

The evening was heavy with the kind of silence that only comes when everything has already been lost. You found your mother sitting in the main living room, her figure barely illuminated by the flickering flames of the fireplace. The desolate look in her eyes mirrored the emptiness you felt inside. The once opulent room, now a hollow reminder of the life your family had lived, seemed to close in around you as you stepped forward.

“Tell me why he would put me in this position.” you cried, your voice breaking as you stared at your mother, searching for answers, for some kind of solace that you knew wouldn’t come.

She turned her gaze from the fire to meet yours, and in that moment, you saw everything. The bitterness, the resentment, and the profound sadness that had taken root in her heart. “For security,” she replied, her voice tinged with a tired resignation. “However, I don't think he could even provide that. But he gave me you and your brother. And my greatest wish was for you to do better than I ever did. And you will. You’re lucky, my dear, do not take that for granted.”

Her words cut through you, leaving behind a raw ache that you couldn’t soothe. The jealousy, contempt, and longing in her eyes bore into your soul, making you feel small, inferior, and utterly alone. Under her gaze, you felt the weight of the expectations that had been placed upon you, the burden of a future you didn’t choose. The title of the "Angel of Mary Geoise" was nothing more than a gilded cage, a facade to hide the desperation that had driven your father to sacrifice his own child for a chance at reclaiming lost glory.

You realized then that your father had never seen you for who you were. To him, you were merely a tool, the last hope of securing a place among the Celestial Dragons, a status that had long since slipped from his grasp. The shadow of this truth loomed over you, suffocating any hope you might have had of escaping the path laid out for you. Your mother knew this, your brother knew this, and now, with a clarity that cut like a knife, you knew it too.

Swallowing hard, you stiffened your lip, determined not to let her see how deeply her words had wounded you. There was nothing you could say, nothing that would change the reality of what had already been decided. You would be carried off to Mary Geoise, trained, beaten into servitude for a life you had never dreamed of, all for the sake of your family’s shattered legacy.

Your mother gave you one final, stiff-lipped smile, a cruel echo of the affection you once wished to find in her. Then, without a word, she rose and left the room, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence. The quiet screamed at you, filled with unspoken curses and the bitterness of misunderstanding. It gnawed at your resolve, making you doubt yourself, sapping the strength from your body until you felt like nothing more than a shell of the person you had once been.

The fruit your father had forced you to eat, once a symbol of your entrapment, was now your only salvation. But even that felt tainted, a gift meant for someone else, a burden you hadn’t asked to carry. You were to be known as the "Angel of Mary Geoise," but that title, that identity, was nothing but a lie. It was a mask, a role you were forced to play to restore your family’s name, to keep the illusion of nobility alive for just a little longer.

As the night deepened, you felt the walls of the house close in around you, the once-grand halls now empty and devoid of life. When the morning came, you would be taken to the holy land, to a paradise that was anything but. There, you would serve a purpose, find a place among the Celestial Dragons, but it would never be the life you had wanted. It would never be the freedom you dreamed of.

And while you would be sheltered and fed within those walls, your family would be cast out, shunned by the very society they had so desperately clung to. The pride and greed that had driven your parents would be their undoing, and in the end, they would be left with nothing but the bitter taste of their own failures.

Your brother, Newt, would find his escape a while after your departure, fleeing with a boy named Sabo to live a life true to his own desires. He would find freedom, the one thing you longed for but couldn’t yet reach. But you knew, deep down, that your time would come too. It wouldn’t be for years, but one day, you would follow in his footsteps. You would find a way to break free from the chains that bound you, to live a life on your own terms.

But for now, all you could do was endure. Endure the training, the expectations, the endless pressure to be something you weren’t. And as you sat in the empty room, the silence pressing down on you, you vowed that when your chance came, you would take it. You would find your own way, even if it meant leaving everything behind.

Chapter Text

You felt discombobulated when you finally awoke in your bed— sheets and pillows astray and thrown around your room. You huffed and wiped your hair from your face as you tried to remember all that had happened. The weariness in your shoulders left you grasping at memories that made you wince in phantom pain. You huffed and tensed your shoulders feeling the stiffness of your skin stretch and pull around your forming scars. You sighed deeply and felt a wave of sorrow wash through you like tidal waves. You wanted to dwell in the shadows the past had weaved around you, and let the rage carry your desires through fire and smoke. You shook your head once again. You couldn’t let yourself get lost again, never again.

Your feet hit cold wooden floors and it shocked your nerves, pulling you into the light that trickled into your room. You felt like fire and heat and smoke. It engulfed your lungs and burned through your veins. You coughed hoarsely and rubbed your face with your hands.

In a blur of light and fire you moved to the door, it felt like an instant before your clammy hands clasped onto the golden metal handle and twisted it open. It creaked horrible in your ears and it sent a wave of pain through your head. In another wave of light and fire you were down the hallway. You were searching for something, your stomach guiding you to the galley where you could smell food wafting through the air. Your mouth watered and you breathed heavily trying to understand what was happening to you. It felt like you were dangling on the precipice of something far more primal. You tapped your forehead with your palms trying to dissipate feeling deep within your bones. It worked and you were able to see more clearly as you walked into the galley. 

The muffled talking and clattering of cutlery on plates echoed into silence as you walked down the lines of benches and tables to where you saw the food. With a stiff lip and a straightened back you walked with a sense of pride. You were alive and that was good enough for you.

You were shuffling through the food that was out for whatever meal time it was. You gasped when someone grabbed you, you whipped the knife around and held it to their throat.

“Easy, little bird.” Marco sighed softly, tired eyes looking down at you as he pulled away the knife from your hands and put it onto the table. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his azure eyes and sighed.

“Shit, I’m sorry Marco.” You whispered.

He smiled softly at you as he took your plate and finished preparing it for you. You followed along with him and sat down at the table that sat at the front of the rows of other tables in the galley.

You ate, and ate, and ate. You were ravenous as you downed all of your favorite foods. It seemed to you that Thatch had prepared every tasty food your mouth craved. You remembered the last time you felt this hungry for good food, you were a month out of Mary Geoise and Thatch had finally figured out what you craved most. With his new found knowledge he cooked for you one of the most extravagant meals you could have ever dreamed of. 

The quietness of the galley had drifted off into its usual mummer of voices. You could tell some were looking at you, eyes glazed with curiosity. They were curious about your injury while others were curious about what had happened beyond the horizon. You winced internally as you scraped the last bits of food off of your plate. 

You felt hot when you looked up at the ceiling of the galley. 

Ace, who sat beside you, looked over at your and offered a kind and warm smile. 

“It’s nice to have you back.” He spoke, his tone soft and endearing as you smiled back at him. The shadows that crept at the edges of your vision faded. He was a fire that lit up others lives with a feverish passion.

“It feels,” you paused as you looked over the sea of hungry pirates in front of you. This was your home, your family. “It feels good to be home.” You finally said, soft and sturdy, like the waves that rocked the ship back and forth. 

Ace pulled you into a side hug and cradled your head with his hand softly. You melted into his touch, the familiarity of being held, being cared for, all of it. You pulled away as Shanks walked up to the table. He offered a smile to you as he placed his hand on the table. A few eyes turned to peer at the exchange but none didn’t interfere.

There was a certain continuity to this exchange. He didn’t offer a hand of condolence and there wasn’t a hint of pity in his eyes as he spoke.

“Training starts today. We’ll be training on the Red Force– it was what Whitebeard and I agreed to. Our crew was granted temporary entrance into the territory.” Shanks peered down the table where Marco sat beside Whitebeard on his right. 

“Oi, Marco! Will you be joining us?” Shanks called down the table. All eyes at the main table were then peering between the two male pirates. Marco turned to Shanks, his eyes briefly passing to you before nodding.

“It’s what was agreed-yoi.” He said, tone affirmative. You turned back to Shanks nodding almost mechanically with a small smile.

“Then what time should I be expected?” You asked as you stared up at him. There was a sinking feeling in your gut that felt all too familiar. It sunk you like waves to a broken ship.

Shanks gave you a subtle look, as if he saw right through the crashing waves, yet he said nothing. Not because it wasn’t his place, but because he thought that it would have been best to let you deal with it how you wanted. He made it his place when he failed to get you, yet he was struggling to try and pick up the pieces. Training you, in some way, was his way of helping you.

“Meet me in an hour. The sooner we start the better.” He said firmly as he patted the table, as if affirming to himself that this was going to work. That the time between now and then wasn’t too short. That his training would bear fruit and you would overcome the rage that swimmed under the waves. Yet you were already sinking. Maybe even drowning, but you would never admit that to yourself.

Shanks left your spot at the table and walked over to Marco, most likely relaying the information he gave you about training. You turned to Ace who had sat quietly through the whole exchange and gave him a nod before getting up. You prepared yourself, a ritual you hadn’t done in a long time. Both mentally and emotionally you tallied the thoughts and emotions running through you and lassoed them before shoving them aside. You couldn’t waste energy on them. You had a job to do, a job that needed to be completed. 

It felt like a flurry of light and smoke as you walked back to your room. You needed to shower, to wash yourself, to clean the slate before you walked back out. A ritual, as old as you when you first stepped into the world.

You wondered where Ace was when the shadows creeped back into your vision. He would ward them away with a single smile. 

An hour had passed and you wondered where the time had gone. The hazing of fire and ash that consumed you felt timeless, ageless, a divinity of power, only held back by something ancient. Yet, here you were standing at the plank that connected the two large ships together. You scowled but pulled the thought from your mind with ease. 

Shanks lifted his hand and motioned for you to walk over. Marco wasn’t far behind as you walked the short distance between the ships. Something tugged in you as your vision plunged into the deep waters below. I shudder escaped you as you peered back at Marco. He nodded his head, eyes hard as he looked over your shoulder to where Shanks stood. Whatever you felt, he didn’t feel the same way it seemed. Another feeling to push aside. You tried to step forward, to cross the plank but something held you with a vie grip. It curled around your throat and poured venom into your veins.

“Step across the plank.” Shanks said. His command was as clear as day. Yet, it wasn’t filled with annoyance or frustration. It was oddly calming. It soothed your muscles and forced you to turn and look at him. The sinking feeling in your chest lifted and suddenly you could walk again. I gulped and nodded your head.

“Good.” He cooed smoothly as you stepped onto the Red Force. The command wisped away into the air with the wind and suddenly your body was yours again. You wanted to curse him for using a command on you but your fighting spirit was shot. Too much had happened over the course of the last few days and your spirit was shot to hell.

“Sure, whatever.” you muttered as you stretched your limbs to ease away the remaining tension. “What do we start with first?” You asked as you looked around the ship. You weren’t quite sure how you would be trained, but you held onto the singular flame of hope that still dwelled somewhere in your soul. 

-0-

The gentle sway of the Red Force beneath you was a familiar feeling, but that didn’t make it any less unsettling. The sea has a way of reminding you how small you are now without your wings, without the devil fruit you once relied on. Your mind drifts back to Caesar Clown, to the moment you lost them—those wings that marked you as something more. Now, you feel exposed, vulnerable, even with Marco and Shanks near you.

Shanks had instructed you to begin your training by meditating.

Meditation? It was beneath you, a lesson meant for a beginner. You’ve been through so much already. You’ve fought, you’ve survived, you’ve lived as a warrior. And yet here you are, closing your eyes and breathing deeply as if that’s going to help. You thought that going along with Shanks plan would provide some insight into why you would start from mere basics. Wasn’t there a war coming? What good would meditating do? 

Closing your eyes you begin to meditate. However, as your vision shrouded in shadows your mind was anything but still. It whipped back and forth and snapped at memories filled with malice.

Your eyes flick open despite yourself. Shanks is there, still sitting across from you, watching. His calm expression didn’t waver, but something in his gaze tells you he knew exactly what you’re thinking. Marco stands at the edge of the deck, arms crossed, his usual stoic demeanor betraying little. You felt uneasy and frustrated under their gazes.

You tried to trust the words of a man who guarded the seas, you tried to trust in the man that stood behind him. You tried, and so you closed your eyes once more. You needed to focus.

The frustration, it burned in your chest, like a billowing fire ready to explode from your skin. How is this supposed to help you regain what you’ve lost? How is sitting still going to fix the empty ache where your wings used to be?

And just like that, your thoughts betray you again. The memories flood in—the sterile scent of the facility, the cold walls of the lab, Caesar Clown’s mad grin. You see him again, that twisted look of fascination in his eyes as he reached for you. And Monet, silently watching with those cold, calculating eyes, offering no comfort as Caesar brought the saw down.

The only thing that was different was where you stood in your own memory. You were a mere bystander watching from shadows as your form looked forwards, expression laced with fear and rage.

The pain had been unbearable. You had screamed, thrashed against the restraints, but your wings—those wings that had once made you soar—had been cut from you. In that moment, you felt your strength leave with them. Without your wings, what were you?

You flinch at the memory, and your breath hitches. You open your eyes again, unable to focus on the meditation. The sea breeze feels cold against your skin, and your heart pounds in your chest, too loud, too fast. You feel exposed, weak, and worst of all—hopeless.

“You’re drifting again,” Shanks’ voice cuts through the chaos in your head, steady as ever. There’s no judgment in his tone, but it pulls you back to the present. “I can see it in your face.”

You looked at him and then at Marco who was still near the railing. His expression had shifted to one of sadness. You wondered if he too felt some inkling of guilt. You shifted uneasy in your spot. Your actions have caused others to feel guilty for your failure.

You blink, trying to pull yourself together, but it’s hard. The memory of Caesar’s grin won’t leave you.

Shanks' voice cuts through your thoughts, calm but commanding. 

"Focus."

Shanks doesn’t move from where he’s seated, but his voice grows firmer. “You’re thinking too much.”

Your mouth tightens. “So what?” You asked, your mouth running before you could stop. Shanks huffed but crossed his arms. 

“I’m not going to pretend that I know what you’ve been through, what I allowed to happen to you. I know you lost your wings. If I had to guess, you feel like that took your power with it.” He leans forward slightly, his scarred face catching the last rays of the afternoon sun. “But that’s not where your strength came from.”

You tense up, barely able to hold back your frustration. He’s right, how could he understand? Your wings weren’t just part of your body, they were everything. You’d eaten the devil fruit, yes, but it was your wings that made you powerful, that made you feel free.

Shanks, sensing your silence, shakes his head slightly. “You’re missing the point,” he says, softer this time. “Your wings didn’t make you strong. Your devil fruit didn’t make you strong either.”

Your fists clench in your lap. “What, then? What’s left of me without them?”

Marco shifted in his spot behind shanks and looked out into the horizon, his expression hidden to you.

Shanks locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through every doubt in your mind. “You are left. Your will. Your soul. That’s where your strength comes from.”

The words hit you harder than you expect. You’ve been so focused on what you’ve lost, so focused on the gaping hole in your chest where your wings used to be, that you haven’t even considered what remains. Your will? Your soul? You still remained.

Shanks smiles, but it’s not the carefree grin you’ve seen him wear before. It’s a look of understanding, of someone who’s seen far more than you could imagine. “You’re thinking too much about your past. I’m telling you to look inward, to that fire inside you. That’s where your power is—not in some wings or devil fruit. Those are tools, but they’re not you.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling over you. He’s right, but accepting that feels like trying to hold water in your hands. You’ve clung so tightly to the idea that your strength came from what you’ve lost. These thoughts had been so ingrained into your being that over time you had accepted them as who you truly were. You let how a soft sigh as you mentally cursed your past.

“Do you want to know what real power is?” Shanks asks, leaning back slightly, still keeping his gaze locked on you. “It’s the fire in your soul. Haki. That’s what will let you stand back up after everything you’ve been through. And it’s something Caesar or anyone else can never take.”

Marco, still silent, nods in agreement. His phoenix flames flicker faintly, as if to remind you of the strength in being able to be reborn, of rising from the ashes. 

“Your strength is in here,” Shanks taps his chest. “Not out there.” He points to the horizon, where the sun was slowly falling. “And definitely not in anything Caesar Clown took from you.”

Your eyes looked out into the horizon and your heart yearned to fly between both sky and sea. The tentative line that held never-ending beginnings.

The weight of your loss still lingers, but for the first time since you lost your wings, a spark of something stirs within you. It’s faint, barely there, but it’s real. Your will. Your soul. The flame Shanks speaks of.

By the Sea and Sky, I will be free once more. You thought to yourself as you furrowed your brow. A lick of determination lacing your bones as you returned to look at Shanks.

“Try again,” Shanks says, softer this time, almost like a challenge. “Focus on that fire. It’s still there, I can feel it.” He pauses briefly, looking at you as if you’re in a new light. “So can you.”

You close your eyes once more, but this time it’s different. You push through the pain of the past, through the doubts and fear, and reach for something deeper. Something that was never tied to your wings or your devil fruit. It simmered deep within your soul, as ancient as time itself. An endless sea of rage. It sputtered and flicked with a fierce passion. You wanted to grab onto it. Yet, even still, you paused. You hesitated. 

Was reaching for the rage worth it? It was new, and powerful, but something tugged on you, willing you to push past it. It was a power flecked with gold and pale blue. You breathe in,  and hold it, and breathe out. You pushed past the rage, the simmering turmoil of power and it felt like eons before you were able to sift through the thick waters before you came out on the other side. It was a void, airless, and tight… yet there it is—faint but undeniable. A flicker of warmth, a spark in the darkness. A flame that stood against all odds.

Your flame of will.

That thrum of power synchronized with your heart and it whispered to you, its breath a wave of resistance. 

Shanks smiles, a proud but knowing expression crossing his face. “There it is.” It was barely a whisper as he turned back to Marco. You were too focused to hear what he said.

Shanks had smirked as Marco stared at you surprised. It was short, but the thick wave of haki that bloomed from you coursed through their veins and licked at their bones. It was strong, but as soon as it came it was gone.

"Breathe. Let the flame of your will rise from deep inside," he says, his tone unyielding but strangely comforting. You were unaware that you had stopped breathing, you sucked in a breath and that feeling was gone.

You opened up your eyes and scowled, where had that feeling gone? You were there, in the void, that thrum of power so close. You sighed deeply.

It's strange to be trained by someone like Shanks. A Yonko, a legend. Yet here he is, guiding you as if you’re just another crewmate, though the loss of your wings sets you apart. You close your eyes, trying to follow his instruction. 

"Your wings may be gone," Shanks continues, his voice low, but filled with conviction, "but that fire in you—that’s something no one can take." His voice was barely above a whisper as he repeated his words to you.

Your chest tightens. The pain of your loss burns as you try to reach for the power you once had, for the flame of will Shanks speaks of. But it's distant and elusive now. The feeling of absence where your wings once were distracts you. It's as if a piece of you is forever missing.

It’s difficult, like trying to grasp at smoke. But you keep pushing. The sway of the sea, the distant cry of gulls, the creak of the ship—all fade away as you focus inward, searching for the flame that lies somewhere deep in your soul. It takes great effort to come across that raging sea again. You huff and you reach and reach, but you can barely break the surface now.

Shanks’ voice reaches you again, barely a whisper now. “Remember what I said… Haki isn’t just strength. It’s your will. If you can ignite that flame, even the sea itself can’t drown it.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, a flicker of warmth blooms in your chest. It’s faint, but it’s there. The flame of will. It lingers just below that raging sea and you want to let out a whimper as your soul aches. It’s there, just out of reach. Those waves were too strong. That lapped at your consciousness and singed your strength with flames so old you didn’t know where they first ignited from.

The sky deepens into hues of amber and violet as the sun sinks beneath the horizon. The once-gentle sway of the Red Force now feels heavier as the cool evening air settles over the deck. Hours have passed since Shanks first sat down with you, guiding you through the process of finding your flame of will. But instead of feeling empowered, your body is weary and your stomach churns with hunger. 

Shanks hasn’t let up once.

“You’re holding back,” he says, sitting across from you with an almost casual ease. “You’ve found your flame, sure. But now you need to command it.”

He was looking at you with a smug face, your expression souring as you glared at him. It was easy for him to tell you what to do cause he wasn’t the one using his strength to try and bolster his strength. You were doing all the work. 

You shift uncomfortably, the ache of sitting still for so long gnawing at your legs and ass. “Command it? How?”

Shanks’ grin returns, mischievous, like he’s enjoying this more than he should. “Simple. Make me stand.”

You blink, surprised. “What?”

He taps his chest with his finger, his red hair catching the last flickers of daylight. “Use your will—your Haki—and force me to stand. Show me you can do it.”

You can’t help but frown. This is the next step? You’ve been meditating all day, focusing on summoning that fucking flame of will, and now he wants you to… command him to stand? This feels like some kind of weird game, not the serious training you expected.

But one look at shanks and you could tell he wasn’t joking. His eyes are as sharp as ever, locked on you. He’s waiting. Marco, still nearby, watches quietly, though you catch the faintest glimmer of admiration in his expression. Your gut tightens as you swallow your temper.

You hesitate. “Is this… really the best way to train?” You were growing tired, and even though you had somehow managed to get below that raging sea you still wavered and held onto memories that wrapped around you and filled you with venom.

Shanks laughs, a sound full of life and confidence. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

You frowned at his energy. Sighing you mutter out in protest before resigning. Fine , you think. If this is what it takes.

Closing your eyes, you draw your focus inward again. You try to push past the frustration, the fatigue, and the constant reminder of how strange this exercise feels. Your breath evens out, and once again, you reach for that flame within you—the will that Shanks has been pushing you to harness all day.

For a while, you sat at the edge of the sea, its waves fierce and raging. You stared at it and tried to urge yourself once more to breach it, to reach the other end, but nothing happens. You picture Shanks in your mind, willing him to rise, to obey the force of your will. But he doesn’t move.

“Come on,” Shanks coaxes, his voice teasing. “You’ve got more than that in you.”

Unaware of your power, the once forceful wave of haki that sank into their bones was nothing more than a constant pressure exuding from your body. Marco raised his brow and sighed softly. You were getting tired, yes, but there was more to it. He knew you lingered too long on failures– your failures to be precise. Not to mention he was getting quite peckish too, yet, he waited, he wanted to feel that power again. To see if you could pull through once more.

You grit your teeth and try again, focusing harder. This time, you can almost feel it—the way your Haki connects with something intangible. You focused you last remain shreds of strength on that raging sea, forcing it to part for you. Still, nothing happens. You can feel it, its right there waiting to cut through the waves, the rage, its tempo growing with each shallow breath you release. Then, in a fury of light and heat a singular ray of power pierces the raging sea and extends upwards into the gray cloudy sky. You feel how it extends from deep within you like invisible threads, trying to wrap around Shanks and compel him to move. But still, he remains seated, unmoved by your efforts.

Seconds turn into minutes as that piercing ray of light stands tall amongst the fierce waves. You feel it extend outward, straining against the power of your own rage. You think it isn’t enough to force him to stand. So, you tie a thread of sea water into that ray of light and it shimmers with a glowing orange as it breaks into the heavens and into the will of that calm red void across from you. The deck grows colder, and the evening turns to night. Your body screams for a break, for rest. But Shanks doesn’t let you stop, not even once. You feel him push against you, forcing you out. 

You growl in frustration as he goads you into pushing yourself beyond your limits. Pushing you to keep going, to keep digging deeper into that reservoir below that raging sea. 

Each time you try, your hunger becomes more unbearable. The emptiness gnaws at your gut, your energy draining by the minute. The idea of forcing Shanks to stand with just your willpower seems ridiculous. It’s exhausting, and yet…

You can’t deny that with each attempt, something inside you grows stronger. The flame in your chest flickers brighter, more defined. It’s not just a spark anymore. It’s a fire, and it’s burning hotter with every hour.

Shanks watches, never flinching, never moving from his spot. “You’re getting there,” he says at one point, his tone serious for once. There was a looming disappointment in his eyes as he looked at you. For a brief moment you thought that he felt it too. The thread of rage behind that pillar of light. “But you’re still holding back. Why?”

That power, that ray of light ceases to exist as his voice reaches you. That flame sputtering out and returning to burning hot coals beneath that raging sea.

Your breath comes out in ragged bursts, and you press a hand to your empty stomach, wincing. “I… I don’t know if I have anything left.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s just your body talking. But this kind of power doesn’t come from your stomach.” He taps his chest again, right over his heart. “It comes from here. From your soul. Don’t let hunger, or pain, or exhaustion stop you from reaching for that.”

The words echo in your mind. Your soul. 

My Soul

Shanks is right. Your body feels spent, but something in your soul isn’t empty. The flame of your will is still burning, waiting for you to truly unleash it.

With a deep breath, you gather yourself for what feels like the hundredth time. This time, though, you let go of everything else—the hunger, the ache, the exhaustion. You focus on that burning ember and the raging sea that courses within your soul. 

You feel the sea ripple and crash against itself as it rises in you, like a wave building momentum, and this time you pour every ounce of your strength into it. You plunge yourself into the waters and drift between the crashing waves and the airless void. You reach for the flicker of light the embers emit and pull it towards you. The sea adds to your strength. You pull, pull, pull until the tension tightens within you and raises that power into the sky, a tower of whirling rage and light pillaring into the gray sky.

For a split second, the world around you seems to still. You can feel the Haki radiating out from you, feel it reaching Shanks like an extension of your very being. And then, against all odds, Shanks rises to his feet.

It’s subtle at first, like he’s merely shifting his weight, but then he stands fully, his eyes gleaming with mixed emotions as he is forced to stand to your will. He brushes off his pants casually, as if nothing extraordinary just happened.

Your eyes open up and you stare in disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest. You had done it. You had gotten Shanks to finally stand on his feet.

Shanks is quiet for a time, thinking, mulling over thoughts as he stares at you. You were panting, and trying to steady your heart. Yet, it seemed like it didn’t want to listen to you.

Marco steps forward, clapping a hand on your shoulder, his touch light but solid. “Not bad,” he says with a slight smile.

It was then your heart steadied. You leaned into his touch and sighed deeply. You were beyond exhausted. Your stomach growled.

“Fuck, im starving…” you muttered as you tried to stand to your feet.

You’re too exhausted to move, your legs trembling beneath you. Your stomach growls loudly, reminding everyone of just how long you’ve been at this.

Shanks chuckles, the tension breaking. “Alright, you’ve earned a break. Let’s get you something to eat.”

You nod weakly, barely able to keep your head up, but a sense of pride fills you despite the fatigue. You did it. You commanded Shanks to stand.

But more than that—you found your strength again. Not in your wings, not in your devil fruit, but in your will.

As Marco helps you toward the galley, Shanks calls after you, his voice filled with a tension you hadn’t heard. “Remember that feeling, alright? It’s just the beginning.”

You wondered if he felt that rage too…

You didn’t let it bother you, it may have been reckless to ease into the rage, but if it worked, you would use it.

Chapter Text

A former child is carried away, waiting, thrumming with rage. 

The next morning, the sun had barely risen when you were jolted awake by your father’s harsh voice. The events of the previous night still weighed heavily on your mind as you dressed and prepared for the inevitable. Your heart pounded in your chest as you were led out to the waiting carriage, your small suitcase clenched tightly in your hands. 

The carriage was grand, its exterior polished and gleaming in the early morning light, but it offered you no comfort. As you climbed inside, your father gave you one last, unreadable look before the door closed behind you with a heavy thud. The sound echoed in your ears, final and unforgiving. The horses stirred, and the carriage began to move, taking you away from everything you had ever known.

The ride was long and silent, the only sounds were the steady clatter of hooves on the cobblestone roads and the occasional creak of the carriage. The landscape outside changed as the morning wore on, the familiar surroundings of your home gradually giving way to the grander, more imposing architecture of Mary Geoise. The city seemed to grow taller, more magnificent, as you approached its heart, but all you could feel was the growing knot of dread in your stomach.

It was shortly after midday when the carriage finally came to a stop. You had spent the entire ride lost in thought, the anxiety gnawing at you with every passing minute. As the door was opened and you were helped out of the carriage, you noticed something that sent a chill down your spine: several other carriages lined the path, each one holding children who looked just as frightened and confused as you felt.

Your heart sank as the realization hit you—this wasn’t just about you. There were others, all of them brought here for the same purpose, all of them facing the same uncertain fate. The fear you had been trying to keep at bay threatened to overwhelm you as you were led away from the carriage, toward the mouth of a cave that loomed ahead like some dark, gaping maw.

The children were gathered together, huddled in small groups, their wide eyes darting around as they tried to make sense of what was happening. You stood among them, feeling smaller and more alone than ever before. The cave entrance was foreboding, the shadows inside stretching out like hands ready to pull you into the unknown.

As you stared into the darkness, a quiet, desperate whisper escaped your lips, almost without you realizing it. “Mom, Dad?” The words were barely audible, a last, futile attempt to reach out to the parents who had brought you here, who had sacrificed you for a chance at reclaiming their lost status.

But there was no answer, no comforting presence to reassure you that everything would be okay. The only response was the cold wind that swept through the gathering, ruffling your clothes and sending a shiver down your spine. You were on your own now, facing a future that you couldn’t control, a fate that had been decided for you.

As the children were herded closer to the cave, the reality of your situation settled in with a heavy finality. The holy land of Mary Geoise was nothing like you had imagined. It wasn’t a paradise, but a place where children like you were brought to be shaped, molded, and used for purposes beyond your understanding.

And as you stepped forward, leaving behind the last remnants of your old life, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was any escape from the path that had been set before you, or if you were destined to live out the rest of your days as nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game.

The vast network of caves seemed endless as you and the other children were led deeper and deeper into the earth. The air grew cooler, and the light from the entrance slowly faded until it was swallowed entirely by the darkness surrounding you. Your steps echoed off the damp stone walls, each footfall a reminder of the weight of what was to come. Bugs skittered across the floor and were crushed between your toes as you walked further and further in the maw of the beast.

Eventually, the group came to a halt before a massive steel door. It stood ominously in the shadows, its surface marred by age and use. As if sensing your presence, the door began to groan, its heavy frame shuddering as it slowly dragged itself open. The sound reverberated through the cave, sending a shiver down your spine. 

When the door finally revealed what lay beyond, your breath caught in your throat. The stark contrast between the dirty, rocky cave and the pristine, sterile environment on the other side was jarring. The white halls beyond the door were blinding in their cleanliness, every surface gleaming and polished to perfection. The air smelled of chemicals, sharp and acrid, a scent that made your nose wrinkle. It was too clean, too artificial, like a place where nothing lived and nothing natural could survive.

You and the other children were herded through the door, your small, fearful group shrinking in on itself as you stepped into the strange, new world. The floor beneath your feet was cold and unyielding, a far cry from the rough, uneven ground of the cave. The sound of the door closing behind you echoed like a final, irrevocable decision. 

The room you were led into was large, too large, and sterile, the kind of place that made you feel exposed and vulnerable. The stark white walls seemed to close in on you as you were ordered to strip yourselves of all your belongings. The command was harsh, delivered with no room for hesitation. You glanced around at the other children, their faces pale and terrified, just like yours. 

As you reluctantly began to undress, your fingers trembling as you removed the clothes that were the last remnants of your old life, you heard a voice off to the side. A woman, tall and imperious, her face a mask of disdain, muttered under her breath, but loud enough for you to hear: "Filthy little beasts."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, and a wave of shame and anger washed over you. The people within these walls saw you and the others as nothing more than animals, creatures to be scrubbed clean of the filth they believed tainted your very existence. You were being stripped not just of your clothes, but of your identity, your dignity, everything that made you who you were.

As the last piece of clothing fell to the floor, you stood there, exposed and trembling, waiting for whatever was to come next. The room felt colder now, the air biting against your bare skin. The white walls seemed to leer at you, indifferent to your fear and humiliation.

You knew then that you were no longer a child of a once-noble family, no longer even a person in the eyes of those who held power here. You were something to be remade, reshaped into whatever image the Celestial Dragons deemed worthy. And as you stood there, vulnerable and afraid, you couldn't help but wonder what would be left of you when they were done.

The cold, sterile room seemed to press in on you as you stood there, shivering and exposed. The silence was oppressive, only broken by the soft, uneven breaths of the children around you. Each of you was waiting, dreading whatever would happen next. You clutched your arms around yourself, trying to hold on to some semblance of comfort, but there was none to be found in this place.

Suddenly, the door at the far end of the room creaked open, and a man stepped through. He was clad head to toe in a bright yellow haz-mat suit, his face hidden behind a reflective visor that made him look more like a machine than a person. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of fear through you, your heart pounding in your chest as he began to call out names.

The names meant nothing to you—they were just sounds, disconnected from the trembling bodies around you. But each time a name was called, the child it belonged to paled, their faces draining of color as they stepped forward. You couldn't help but watch them, your stomach churning with dread, even as you struggled to remember their faces, their names, as if holding onto these fleeting details could anchor you in this nightmare.

Then, the man in the yellow suit called your name.

Everything around you seemed to blur and fade as the sound of your name echoed in your ears. It was as if the very ground beneath you had been ripped away, leaving you to freefall into an abyss of fear and uncertainty. Your legs felt like they were made of lead, but somehow, you forced yourself to take a step forward. 

You wanted to ask why—why you, why now, why were you being singled out? But the words died in your throat, smothered by the oppressive atmosphere of the room and the silent fear that gripped you. The other children whose names had been called looked just as terrified, their wide eyes reflecting the same unspoken questions that churned within you. 

Yet, none of you dared disobey. The fear of what might happen if you did was too great, too overwhelming. So, you all walked forward in unison, like lambs to the slaughter, each step echoing in the stillness of the room.

As you approached, the man in the yellow suit spoke again, his voice muffled and distorted by his visor. "Those of you who were called will be separated from the others," he said, his tone flat and emotionless. "Your call is higher than the others."

His words brought a sudden, sharp clarity to your mind. You remembered what the representative of the Five Elders had said, the words that had filled you with a mixture of dread and confusion: "The child possesses a high chance of becoming someone of importance."

The realization hit you like a cold slap to the face. This was what he had meant. You were not like the other children here; you had been chosen, singled out for something different, something more. That something being the devil fruit that you now possessed.

As the man in the yellow suit turned and began to lead you and the others away, the reality of your situation settled over you like a heavy shroud. You were being taken away, separated from the only familiar faces in this terrifying place. Whatever lay ahead, it was something you had no control over, something far beyond the simple, innocent life you had once known.

And as you walked forward, your heart heavy with fear and uncertainty, you couldn't shake the feeling that whatever awaited you on the other side of this separation would change you forever.

Weeks had blurred into an endless cycle of training, solitude, and cold, clinical routines. The days felt like they stretched on forever, and yet, the passage of time was a concept you could barely grasp anymore. You were housed in a small, sterile room that was miles away from the grandeur and opulence of your former home. The cold walls offered no comfort, and the silence of your surroundings was only broken by the distant echoes of footsteps, the clatter of trays, or the occasional soft sob from another room.

Meals were brought to you at precise intervals, tasteless and functional. The food served only as a reminder that you were being sustained, not cared for. You ate in silence, alone, your thoughts, your only company. The memory of your family felt like a dream you had once had, now fading into the recesses of your mind.

Every morning, before dawn had even begun to break, you were roused from bed by a faceless attendant. There was no gentle wake-up call, just the harsh flick of the lights and a curt order to rise. You dressed quickly, knowing that any delay would result in consequences you didn't want to face, and then you were escorted to the training grounds.

The training was grueling, a relentless assault on both your body and mind. The devil fruit specialist assigned to you was efficient, focused on results rather than on your well-being. They were kinder than most of the other adults you'd encountered in Mary Geoise, but that kindness was distant, impersonal. They offered you no comfort, no words of encouragement, only the cold, hard truths about what was expected of you. They showed you how to channel the power of your fruit, how to grow wings from your back rather than your arms—a process that was both painful and terrifying.

The first time you succeeded in sprouting wings from your back, you had felt a flicker of pride, a small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you were doing something right. But that pride was short-lived, extinguished by the realization that you were being shaped into something unnatural, something that was meant to serve a purpose you still didn't fully understand.

On occasion, you would catch a glimpse of a familiar face among the shadows of the holy land. Children you had arrived with, now reduced to menial labor, their once-bright eyes dulled by the weight of their new lives. They crouched low, sweeping floors, mopping up messes, their presence a stark reminder of the brutal hierarchy that ruled this place. These were the children who hadn't been chosen, who hadn't shown the "potential" the representatives had been looking for. Seeing them like this sent a chill through you, and you quickly averted your gaze, unable to bear the sight of their bleak, defeated expressions.

But you were dealing with your own problems now. The pressure of your training weighed heavily on your shoulders, the expectations pressing down on you like a vice. The other children who had been called with you were either already in the service of the Dragons, their futures sealed, or they had crumbled under the strain, their fates a mystery that haunted your thoughts. You tried not to think about what had happened to them, about what it meant to be "too weak" to withstand the pressure.

Each day was a test, and each test felt like a step further away from the life you had once known. The wings you were forced to grow felt alien, a constant reminder of how far you had been pushed from your former self. You were becoming something else, something that wasn't truly you. And yet, you endured, because there was no other choice. 

In those rare moments of solitude, when the training was done and you were left alone with your thoughts, the weight of everything would settle over you, suffocating in its intensity. You thought of your family, of your mother and father, of Newt, and wondered if they ever thought of you, if they missed you, or if they were just relieved that you were the one chosen to carry this burden. 

As you lay in your small bed, staring up at the ceiling, you wondered if you would ever see them again, and if you did, whether they would even recognize the person you were becoming.

Weeks continued to pass, and you felt a strange transformation taking place within you. Your body, once small and fragile, had begun to change in ways that seemed unnatural for someone your age. You noticed it in the mirror each morning—a subtle elongation of your limbs, a sharpening of your features, and an eerie sense that you were growing up too quickly. You wondered if it was the relentless training, the grueling hours spent perfecting the use of your wings, or perhaps it was the strange assortment of pills you were given every morning with breakfast. Purple, orange, and white capsules that you swallowed without question, not knowing what they were or what they were doing to you. All you knew was that something was happening, something beyond your control.

Your days have become a blur of routine. Rise early, train until your muscles ache, eat, and then sleep, only to wake up and do it all over again. The monotony of it all had dulled your senses, made you feel like a machine rather than a person. You followed orders, complied with every demand, all in the hope that if you did everything right, you would eventually find your way out of this nightmare.

One morning, after what felt like an eternity of this life, your trainer announced that you had completed your training. The words should have brought you relief, but instead, they filled you with dread. You had learned to control your wings, to make them sprout from your back with ease, but what came next? What more could they possibly demand of you?

You asked the trainer what the next stage would entail, your voice tinged with both curiosity and fear. For a moment, a fleeting softness passed over the trainer's face, a rare glimpse of humanity in an otherwise cold and detached demeanor. "The next stage," they said quietly, "is about more than just power. You will be trained in etiquette and in the ways of visual appeal for others."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Etiquette. Visual appeal. You understood, even at your young age, that this meant you were no longer just being trained as a weapon, but as something else entirely—a tool for appearances, a figure to be paraded and admired, to represent the status your family had lost. The idea made your stomach churn with unease. 

You had been transformed into something unrecognizable, and now they wanted to refine that transformation, to mold you into the perfect image of what they believed a Celestial Dragon should be. The thought was suffocating, yet you knew there was no escape. This was your reality now, a reality where your worth was measured not just by what you could do, but by how you looked, how you carried yourself, how well you could pretend to be something you weren't.

The trainer's momentary softness faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once more by that impenetrable mask of indifference. They offered no comfort, no reassurance, only the cold truth of what was to come. "Prepare yourself," they said, turning to leave. "Your life is about to change again."

You stood there in silence, the weight of their words pressing down on you like a boulder. You were being shaped into something you didn't want to be, for reasons you didn't fully understand. But there was no turning back now. The path ahead was set, and all you could do was follow it, no matter where it led.

As you prepared for this next stage, you couldn't help but think of your family. You wondered if they knew what you were going through, if they cared, or if they were simply relieved that you were the one carrying this burden. The thought of them brought a pang of longing, but also a deep sense of resignation. This was your life now, and you had to see it through, no matter how much it hurt.

The next morning, the door to your room creaked open, waking you before the attendant’s voice even reached your ears. Harsh light flooded the space as she flicked the switch, casting long shadows across the sparse furnishings. You blinked, momentarily disoriented. The attendant stood by the door, hands clasped nervously in front of her. There was something different about her today—a tension in her posture, a hesitation in her voice.

"Wake up," she said softly, but unlike every other morning, she didn’t leave the room. You quirked an eyebrow at her, silently questioning her lingering presence. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for the right words.

"You’re being transferred to another building," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words were simple, but the weight they carried was unmistakable.

You nodded, already accustomed to the abrupt changes in your life. Questions no longer seemed worth asking. Moving with the mechanical precision that had been drilled into you, you gathered the few belongings you’d accumulated since your arrival. It didn’t take long—there was so little that was truly yours anymore.

As you stepped into the hallway, you caught sight of the other three children who had survived the same grueling process you had. You were a pitifully small group now, a fraction of the many who had been brought to Mary Geoise. Through observation and whispered conversations, you had come to understand that each of them, like you, possessed a power that the Celestial Dragons deemed valuable. And like you, they had been stripped of their past lives, reshaped into something unrecognizable.

The four of you walked in silence, the only sound the echo of your footsteps and the faint rustling of your wings. The memory of the day the doctors took your vital feathers lingered in your mind—the sharp pain, the cold indifference in their eyes as they ensured you could never truly escape. The wings on your back still spread wide, but their most crucial feathers were gone, rendering them useless for flight, a cruel reminder of the freedom that had been stolen from you.

As you followed the attendant down the long, winding corridors, you wondered where you were being led. Another step deeper into the labyrinthine world of the Celestial Dragons, perhaps, but for what purpose? You had no answers, only a growing sense of unease.

The other three children walked beside you, their faces reflecting a mix of resignation, fear, and something else—perhaps determination, or the last vestiges of hope. None of you spoke. There was no need. Each of you was trapped in your own thoughts, preparing for whatever awaited you in this new place.

You passed through a set of large double doors, and as they swung open, you glimpsed the building ahead. It was grander, more imposing than the last—a fortress of gleaming white stone, its walls towering over you like a mountain of judgment.

You were being taken deeper into the heart of Mary Geoise, closer to the core of its power. The air felt heavier here, thick with the weight of expectations and the silent cries of those who had been broken before you.

As you stepped into the courtyard of this new building, you couldn’t help but feel the ghost of those lost feathers brushing against your back—a reminder of the freedom that was just out of reach and the cage you now found yourself in. You flexed your wings slightly, feeling the empty spaces where the vital feathers had once been, a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings.

As you and the other three children stepped into the grand building, the immediate contrast to your previous surroundings was undeniable. The opulent interior was warmer, almost inviting, but there was a heaviness in the air that kept you from feeling at ease. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and the marble floors gleamed under the soft light filtering through the enormous windows. Yet, despite the luxury, an unsettling feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes were drawn to the grand staircase at the far end of the room, its wide steps leading up to the second floor. Standing at the base of the stairs was a woman, her presence commanding and her expression cold and calculating. Her gaze swept over the four of you, as if she were appraising each one, measuring you against some silent standard. There was no warmth in her eyes, only the steely determination of someone accustomed to control.

The attendant who had brought you here had already disappeared, leaving you and the others to face this imposing figure alone. You exchanged nervous glances with the others, all of you keenly aware of the scrutiny you were under.

As if on cue, six other women emerged from the shadows, positioning themselves beside the woman at the staircase. They wore muted colors, their expressions as unreadable as their leader’s. At first, you thought they might be servants, but there was something in the way they held themselves, their chins raised imperiously, that made you reconsider. These weren’t mere attendants—they were ladies-in-waiting, each one a reflection of the authority and power of the woman who led them.

The air around them was thick with an unspoken hierarchy, and you could feel their eyes on you, assessing, judging. The woman at the center, the one who radiated power and control, didn’t need to speak to make her intentions clear. She was here to mold you, to shape you into something that would fit within the rigid confines of this world, no matter how much you might resist.

You stood there, feeling small under their gaze, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. There was no escape from this—only the grueling process of becoming whatever it was they needed you to be. The reality of your situation settled over you like a cold shroud, and you couldn’t help but shiver, despite the warmth of the room.

You were quickly instructed by the ladies-in-waiting to head up the stairs and take the first room on the right, while the others were directed to the following three rooms on the same side. The creak of the wooden stairs echoed in the quiet house as you made your way to the room. Upon entering, you found yourself in a space that was both imposing and beautiful, filled with rich burgundies, deep blues, and muted yellows. The colors, though warm, felt heavy, as if they were pressing down on you, reminding you of the gravity of where you were.

A single window faced inward, offering a view of the sprawling city of Mary Geoise. This house, more than any place you had been before, felt like a gatekeeper—a threshold that would either open up to the city and all it represented or close forever, casting you out like your family. The thought made your stomach tighten.

Your eyes traveled around the room, finally resting on a mattress tucked neatly into the corner. It was simple but comfortable, a stark contrast to the tension that had built up inside you. The room was clearly designed to impress, but it only served to remind you of how far you were from home, from everything familiar.

As you stood there, taking it all in, the lady of the house appeared in the doorway. Her presence filled the room, and though she didn’t need to raise her voice, her authority was undeniable. She informed you, with a tone that brooked no argument, that your first lesson would begin at dawn the following morning. The lesson, she said, would cover what was expected of you when attending to the Celestial Dragons in their homes.

The words settled over you like a heavy cloak. You had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real. The path ahead was set, and there was no turning back. With a final, lingering look at the window and the city beyond, you steeled yourself for what was to come. The weight of your family’s hopes and your own fears pressed down on you, but there was no room for doubt now. Tomorrow would be the first step in proving yourself—one way or another.

In the weeks that followed, the lady of the house and her ladies-in-waiting paraded you and the other three around, drilling into you the expectations of your new life. They were relentless in their instruction—what to do, what not to do, how to behave in every imaginable situation, and how to respond if an emergency arose. Their voices were sharp, their instructions clear, leaving no room for error or hesitation.

You quickly learned that nodding and smiling, even when you wanted to do anything but, kept their simmering anger at bay. The ladies-in-waiting, with their cold eyes and clipped tones, clearly saw you and the others as nothing more than nuisances—bugs that had to be tolerated, at least for now. Their disdain was palpable, an ever-present reminder that you were not truly welcome in this world, no matter how much they tried to shape you into something that could be.

As the days blurred into weeks, you felt yourself being molded, not just into a Lady, but into a vessel for the whims and desires of the Celestial Dragons you were meant to serve. The process was grueling, stripping away layers of your former self, leaving behind only what they wanted you to be. It was as though they were sculpting you from stone, chipping away piece by piece until only their vision remained.

The transition was unsettling, but you had no choice but to endure. Each lesson, each reprimand, each forced smile brought you closer to the person they needed you to become. The weight of your family’s future rested on your shoulders, and the expectations of the Dragons loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You understood, with a growing sense of dread, that there was no escape from this path. The more you conformed to their teachings, the more you felt yourself slipping away, becoming something unrecognizable. Yet, deep down, a flicker of defiance remained—a small, hidden part of you that longed to break free from the chains they were so carefully crafting around you. But for now, that part of you had to stay hidden, buried beneath layers of obedience and fear.

And so, you continued, day after day, learning to survive in this world that demanded nothing less than perfection.

The snow was beginning to fall, a delicate curtain of white that blanketed the world outside. You awoke to a pounding on your door, a harsh reminder of the life you now lived. You called out to the servant, assuring them you were awake and would be down for breakfast shortly. Rising from your bed, you moved through the motions that had become second nature—making your bed with precision, sweeping the room until not a speck of dust remained, and dressing in the finery that was expected of you. 

Your reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. The glowing skin, the sleek yet strong figure, the clothes that flowed around you with an air of effortless grace—all of it a testament to the transformation you had undergone since stepping into that cave so many months ago. Your birthday was approaching, but it held no significance anymore. It was just another day, to be acknowledged in private, never celebrated. 

Satisfied with your appearance, you made your way down the grand staircase, your steps measured and graceful, as you had been taught. The dining hall was large and imposing, its opulence a constant reminder of the world you now belonged to. The lady of the house waited at the head of the table, her eyes cold and unreadable as she watched you enter. The others who had come with you followed in, all dressed in the finest clothes, designed to make the Celestial Dragons swoon and shiver with delight.

As breakfast progressed, the lady of the house made an announcement that sent a ripple of tension through the room. The four of you, she declared, were ready to move on to the final house. It was time to be presented to the high lords and Celestial Dragons of Mary Geoise. From there, your paths would diverge, each of you taking on different lives, all in service to the nobility of the Holy Land.

The lady of the house spoke with a chilling calm, her words cutting through the air like a knife. Some of you, she noted, might live permanently with the Dragons, while others could find themselves taken and then returned, or perhaps even meet death in the service of the nobility. But this, she emphasized, was your duty. You were to greet any possibility with grace, to see it as a blessing. This life, she reminded you, was far better than the one you left behind.

As her words hung in the air, you felt the weight of your fate pressing down on you. The life you had once known was gone, replaced by a future filled with uncertainty and peril. But there was no room for fear or hesitation. You had been shaped, molded, and trained for this moment, and now, there was no turning back.

Chapter Text

The air aboard the Moby Dick is warm and filled with the lively sounds of two large crews, laughing and sharing stories over a feast. It’s a stark contrast to the grueling hours you spent training on the Red Force, but the fatigue in your bones is momentarily forgotten as you sit around the table with the others. Whitebeard’s presence is immense, both physically and in the weight of his reputation, but Shanks fits in effortlessly, joking and drinking with the crew as though he’s been there for years. You see that Marco is begrudgingly letting Shanks hold him, his only hand draped over his shoulders, as they sing the only sea shanty you bothered to remember.

Namur and Fossa are eating back more than their fair share of food as Ace and Thatch are pouring large barrels of ale into Blenheim and Curiel. You snicker as you watch them effortlessly take the barrels. This moment was a brief reprieve from this afternoon's training session. Although, in the back of your mind, as you drank and ate your share of ale and food you were still trying to process everything from earlier. The strange training session, the exhaustion of willing Shanks to stand with nothing but your will, and the tugging feeling in your gut from standing against that raging sea— the one that kept you from your burning embers in the void. As the night goes on, your curiosity gnaws at you more than the food can satisfy.

You wait until Shanks is alone for a moment, refilling his drink, before leaning in closer. “Shanks,” you start quietly, “about earlier… Why did you insist on having me meditate, and then that thing with making you stand?” Your arms motioned in the air as you stood beside him. The heat in your cheeks leaves you more than willing to be animated despite the growing weight your chest harbored.

He looks at you, his expression calm but amused, like he knew this question was coming. "What do you think?"

You frown. You’ve been thinking about it for hours. “I have an idea, but… I wanted to hear it from you.” You feared that taking a shot in the dark would only make you look like a fool, but also fuel that sea that was within you.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You have something inside you, something rare. And I needed you to see it for yourself. You’re not just tapping into your will or your Haki. You’re reaching for something far greater.”

You pause, your heart thumping a little faster. “What do you mean?” There it was, the flicker in the dark that gave you pause. That void thrumming with something ancient, and new.

Shanks’ grin widens, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze that makes your stomach tighten. “There are a lot of people out there who think they have what it takes to use Conqueror’s Haki,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “But most of them… they’re wrong.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Conqueror’s Haki ? Your mind races. The flicker sputters into a small flame. You knew Shanks wasn’t training you just for basic Haki mastery, but that? Could he really be suggesting…No, he was affirming what you knew deep down ever since he urged you to tell him to stand.

“Wait,” you say, your voice a little unsteady. “You think I…?” Your mind wanted to not believe such a thing. 

“I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Shanks interrupts, his eyes steady on yours. “There’s someone else who’s had the same thought for a few years now.”

You glance around, half-expecting him to point at someone, but when he doesn’t, you feel a growing sense of curiosity. “Who?”

Shanks leans back in a chair near the booze table, his gaze drifting across the bustling deck. Then he nods toward the far end of the table, where Whitebeard sits in his usual place, towering over the crew, laughing loudly as one of his sons tells a story. The sea breeze, that swoops in through the open windows, rustles his white mustache and graying hair, and despite the cheerful atmosphere, there’s an undeniable sense of authority that radiates from him.

“Whitebeard,” Shanks says simply.

Your blood runs cold. You wondered why, yet there was no real place in which to place this question. You mind ran and ran and ran, yet you were left to wonder. The man you trusted, the man you followed had kept this from you. Then the sea water that was so close to your fingertips edged closer and you felt it seep into your skin. The rage, unfounded, and logically misplaced. You were mad.  

You can’t hide your shock and the slight edge to your words when you look back to Shanks. “Whitebeard thinks… that I have Conqueror’s Haki?”

Shanks nods. “He’s been keeping an eye on you for a few years now. Said he saw something in you, something that reminded him of those who have that kind of will. He told me after the our former allegiance ended”

You feel like the floor has dropped out from under you. Whitebeard, one of the most powerful men in the world, thinks you might have Conqueror’s Haki? That’s not something you just hear and walk away from. It’s overwhelming, yet that sweltering heat, the rage swarms within you. Unbidden by your will.

Your hands tighten around your cup, your thoughts spiraling. Conqueror’s Haki is rare—extremely rare. Only a handful of the strongest people in the world are capable of wielding it. How could Whitebeard—and Shanks—believe you’re a part of them? For decades now you were a part of nothing. You came from nothing and you would return to nothing. You had your place in the world, but for years you were never truly a part of it. Those who trained you, who kept you, made sure you were never truly a part of anything. Even when you joined the Whitebeard pirates you had your place with them, but every offer to be truly a part of them you forced away, it being a habit by that time. Being done so through a snippet attitude and and sometimes to distant glances.

“You have to be wrong, there’s no way in hell that I would possess such a power,” you stammer over your words, your voice barely audible over the noise around you. “Why me? I’ve never shown anything like that before.”

Shanks watches you, his smile fading into something more contemplative. “Maybe not consciously. But you’ve been through more than most people can imagine. Caesar Clown, your wings… everything you’ve survived.” He gestures to you. “It takes a certain kind of will to come back from that. Most people would’ve been broken, but you’re still standing– fighting. That’s what I see in you. That’s what Whitebeard has seen in you for years now.”

You stare down at your plate, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like a stone. The memories of Caesar’s lab, of the pain and loss of your wings, feel fresh again. You shifted in your spot and the scars on your back itches and tugged at you. You had felt hopeless, defeated. To think that some part of you had been displaying this rare trait, even then, feels impossible.

“I’m not…” you start, shaking your head. “You’re lying.” There it was, the seething rage below your skin. It bubbled and snapped at Shanks. It kept pulling on you, wanting to unleash itself, but it took your strength to keep it bridled within.

Shanks tilts his head slightly, his expression softening. “I’m not, and you are someone that does have this power.” He gives you a knowing look. “You felt it today, didn’t you? When you made me stand?”

It suddenly all made sense now. You had been standing at that hurdle for the last few hours, not wanting it to be true. Yet, here you stood, still listening to Shanks as if his words were anything but a lie. That hurdle disintegrated into ash at your feet as you looked at your cup.

You hesitate, but he’s right. There had been something, a brief, powerful moment where you felt an undeniable surge of strength, of control. But it had been so fleeting, so subtle, that you hadn’t wanted to believe it. It was that singular pillar of light that pierced the raging sea.

“I don’t know if I can handle this,” you admit quietly, your voice wavering. The thought of possessing that kind of power frightens you. No, that wasn’t right, it wasn’t the power that scared you, but the thrumming rage that settled within you. It was there like a burning fire licking at your skin. You frowned as a ‘tch’ sound escaped you.

Shanks chuckles, not unkindly. “You’ll handle it, because you have to. That’s the thing about Conqueror’s Haki. It’s not about controlling others—it’s about controlling yourself. And you’ve already been doing that without realizing it.”

You feel a knot forming in your chest. The weight of Whitebeard’s belief, Shanks’ confidence, and your own fear all press down on you. You never wanted this kind of attention, this kind of responsibility. You just wanted to get your strength back, to reclaim what Caesar had stolen from you.

But now, it feels like something much bigger has set itself on your shoulders— and maybe you were overthinking it as a whole, but this changed how you would walk through life. Something you’re not sure you’re ready for. You had grown so comfortable being subservient, it was what you had done ever since you had been abandoned.

You glance over at Whitebeard again, his laughter booming across the deck. He doesn’t even look in your direction, but the knowledge that he’s been watching you all this time, considering this possibility, makes you feel even smaller in his presence.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. Yet, you weren’t really talking about the conquerors haki, not you were talking about everything else that had gotten you to this point. The suffering, the pain, everything. It was like a big fucking joke to you. You went through all of that just to realize you had the potential to stop it from happening to begin with.

Shanks leans in slightly, his expression kind but firm. “No one ever does. But the fact that you’re still here, still standing after everything—that’s why you’re ready. Whether you believe it or not, your will is stronger than you think.”

You sit in silence for a long moment, the din of the crew’s celebration fading into the background. The truth is, you’re terrified. Of what you might become. Of the power Shanks and Whitebeard believe you have. Of what it might mean for you going forward.

But somewhere deep inside, that flame of will you’ve been nurturing all day flickers again.

The muffled sounds of laughter and celebration fade behind you as you slip away from the party. The stars overhead are brilliant, scattered across the deepening night sky, but they do nothing to ease the weight in your chest. Your footsteps are quiet on the deck of the Moby Dick, and as you cross the massive ship, you find yourself drawn toward the head of the great whale. 

Sitting on the massive figurehead, you feel the cool wind against your skin. The ship rocks gently with the motion of the sea, but all you can hear is your own racing thoughts. Shanks' words echo in your mind, over and over again. Conqueror's Haki . Whitebeard’s belief in you.

Why?

You stare out over the vast expanse of water, watching as the moonlight glistens off the waves. It should be peaceful, but your mind refuses to settle. Why would Whitebeard think that you —of all people—have Conqueror’s Haki? What had he seen in you? You’ve tried to replay every moment you’ve had on this ship, tried to think back to your life before, but there’s no clear answer.

What could have led him to that conclusion?

You close your eyes, searching through your memories. Mary Geoise. Caesar Clown. The lab. The moment your wings were torn from you. Your rage. Your fear. The raw, consuming need to survive. Was that when Whitebeard noticed something? Was it in the way you clung to life, to your will, even when everything seemed lost?

But no matter how hard you try to pinpoint the moment, you come up short. It feels like trying to grasp at smoke—slipping through your fingers every time you get close.

With a sigh, you open your eyes and look over the edge of the ship, down into the dark water below. The waves crash softly against the hull, a constant rhythm that seems almost hypnotic. The quiet out here is so different from the chaos in your mind.

And yet, as you stare into the depths, you feel that same tugging inside you—the same pull that’s been keeping you from fully accessing the flame of your will. The sea below reminds you of that raging ocean within your soul. You’ve felt it for a long time now, ever since the moment you lost your wings. No, ever since your family left you for dead. That turbulent, uncontrollable force, constantly churning, making it impossible for you to find calm.

But tonight, something feels different.

For the first time, as you look out over the water, there’s a flicker of something else beneath the surface. Hope. It’s faint, but it’s there, like a distant light cutting through the storm. What if Shanks is right? What if Whitebeard is right? What if this flame of will, this Haki, is something you’ve had all along, buried under layers of doubt and fear?

For a moment, you let yourself imagine it—what it would feel like to command your own soul, to have that power, that control. The thought is intoxicating, and for the briefest moment, you feel the spark of curiosity again.

But then, just as quickly, the anger returns.

That same anger that’s been festering inside you ever since you walked into those sterile hallways. That same anger that burns hotter every time you think about what you lost, about the helplessness you felt. The same rage that swarmed you like a storm when you encountered that fucking clown. You clench your fists at the memory, and the flicker of hope is snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

What good is hope when the pain is still so raw? What good is power when all it brings you is suffering?

Your grip tightens on the railing as the memories flood back, vivid and relentless. The saw, the sound of your wings being severed, the mocking grin on Caesar’s face. You feel the rage building, uncontrollable, and before you even realize it, the wood beneath your hands gives way with a sickening crack.

The railing snaps under your grasp, splintering in your hands.

You pull back, startled, as the broken pieces of wood drop into the water below. You stare at your hands, your chest heaving, the weight of your anger still pressing down on you.

How long have you been holding onto this?

The sea beneath you is calm, but inside, that raging storm still churns. The same storm that’s been keeping you from truly accessing your will, from reaching the flame Shanks speaks of. You know it’s there, you felt it, but every time you get close, the anger pulls you back, dragging you back into the weightless sway of water.

You exhale slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. The broken railing at your feet is a stark reminder of just how close you are to losing control. Conqueror’s Haki… could you really possess such power when you can barely control your own emotions?

The water below seems to call to you, its quiet surface a mirror to the storm inside. You don’t have an answer, not yet. But one thing is clear—you can’t keep letting this rage define you. If you truly want to find that flame, to understand why Whitebeard and Shanks believe in you, you’ll have to face the storm in your soul head-on.Even if it means facing the pain you’ve been trying so hard to bury.

For now, though, all you can do is breathe—slow, steady breaths to remind yourself that you’re still here. Still standing, even after everything.

You sigh deeply, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders as you slide down to the floor of the ship’s deck, your back against the railing you just shattered. The night air feels colder now, and the ocean stretches endlessly before you, dark and vast. You pull your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, crouching into a small ball. The world seems so much larger, so much crueler in this quiet moment.

Your lips part, and without even thinking, you whisper words you haven’t spoken in years. Words that feel foreign on your tongue yet deeply familiar in your heart. 

“I will not buckle or yield when faced with the cruelty of this world.”

The phrase cuts through the quiet, more of a promise to yourself than anything. A promise you had made a long time ago, when you were young, when the world was new to you, and you believed you could take on anything. It’s a phrase you hadn’t said in so long, you almost forgot it was a part of you.

But now, it feels like the only thing holding you together.

The cruelty of the world. The bitter truth of it sits in your chest like a heavy stone. The idea that you might’ve had Conqueror’s Haki all along, that this immense power could have been yours, makes you feel hollow inside. If you’d known… if you’d been able to tap into it… maybe you could’ve been free from Caesar’s clutches, free from the lab, free from the Mary Geoise.

Maybe you wouldn’t have lost your wings. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost so much.

The thought stings, and it spirals. The more you think about it, the more that anger rises again, that deep, simmering rage at how unfair it all is. If you had this power…

But as the words repeat in your mind, another truth begins to unfurl, slowly, painfully.

It’s not the power I’m searching for, is it?

You stare out into the water, your reflection a faint blur in the moonlight. It’s not just the power, not just the Haki. It’s freedom. That’s what you’ve been chasing all this time. Ever since you were a child, you’ve yearned for it—freedom from the chains of your past, freedom from the cruelty of this world, freedom to live on your own terms.

You thought that power, that strength, was the key to that freedom. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe the power isn’t something that could have saved you back then. Maybe it’s the freedom you’ve always wanted, the ability to take control of your own destiny.

“I will not buckle or yield…” you whisper again, a little louder this time.

The words burn on your lips, and you repeat them, over and over, each time with a little more conviction. It’s not just a phrase anymore. It’s a vow. A promise to yourself, to the world, to everything you’ve faced and everything you still will face. 

You won’t let this world break you. Not again. Not after everything you’ve survived.

“I will not buckle or yield when faced with the cruelty of this world.”

The phrase becomes a mantra, echoing in your mind, each repetition strengthening the flame of your will, stoking it like a fire. You repeat it until it’s burned into your memory, until it’s part of your very being. Until you know, deep down, that it’s the truth.

You’ve been searching for freedom all this time. And now, you realize, it’s not something you have to wait for or something you can run from. It’s something you have to challenge in order to take.

The gentle knock you give Whitebeard’s door feels like it could shatter the uneasy calm you've managed to find. You wait, heart pounding, until you hear his deep voice rumble from the other side. 

“Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open, stepping into the large room. It’s spacious, yet somehow feels intimate. The shadows of the night creep in through the small slits in the window, and in the low light, Whitebeard’s immense form looms larger than ever. Despite his size, he seems at ease in this quiet moment—until he sees you. 

You stand just inside the door, fists clenched at your sides, and for a moment, you can’t move. The storm inside you has quieted, but only just. The anger, the hurt, the confusion—it all still simmers beneath the surface, waiting for the chance to boil over again. 

Whitebeard's sharp eyes take in your tension immediately. His expression softens, the lines of his face etched with both power and compassion. “What’s wrong, child?”

His voice is tender, almost apologetic. The warmth in his tone makes you falter, the resolve you thought you had wavering. He knows. He knows the weight of your burden. He carries it, too, in some way. After all, he had let this happen—let you fall into Caesar Clown’s hands. You can see the guilt in his eyes, the heaviness in his broad shoulders, as if he’s been carrying it all this time.

For a moment, your anger fades, replaced by something deeper. Whitebeard, the man the world sees as invincible, looks at you not as the captain of the most feared pirate crew, but as a father, grieving for his only daughter.

You step further into the room, closing the door behind you. “I… I needed to ask you something.” Your voice wavers, but you press on. “I had spoken with Shanks earlier this evening and he said something to me.” You pause again, breathing in, fingers clenching together. “About you thinking that I might have… Conqueror’s Haki.”

Whitebeard remains silent for a moment, his eyes heavy on you, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, slowly, he sits up a little straighter, his immense form making the chair beneath him creak. His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a sadness in his eyes now, a quiet sorrow that makes your chest tighten.

“I’ve thought about it for some time now,” he says, his voice deep but soft. “Maybe for too long now.” His giant hand clenched in his lap as he sighs deeply. “It first occurred to me when you were just getting used to our customs on the sea. You were nervous around my sons, tentative to walk amongst them as an equal. And with each word you spoke to them I felt it drift from you. They couldn't feel it, but I could. Anytime you told them to ‘fuck off’ it drifted from you. You were too unsure of yourself, too unsure of your own will that your command over them was too weak to instill any form of control. I wanted to wait, to see if you could bolster this strength for yourself. Then the fight, you remember,” You nodded your head, you did remember that fight, the same one that left you with that scar on your shoulder. Your hand instinctively went up and cradled your shoulder.

“That small drift of power sizzled out of you when you screamed for those pirates to get away from you. Your command was stronger that day, it rippled across the field and then it just disappeared. Then in my own way I stifled that power by keeping you away from things that would help you grow. I didn’t allow you to grow from your mistake, so that will of yours never returned. I instilled a doubt in you that buried it, it seems.” Whitebeard wasn’t looking at you, his eyes far, thinking of that day when you had strayed too far from your squad. When you were pierced with a sea prism stone spear and fell from the sky into the ground with a thud.

You shuddered as you remember the pirates whooping and hollering that they finally took down one of Whitebeard's men. Then upon seeing that it was no less a woman their joy grew into contempt. For you were one of the few that had been taking down supply chain after supply chain. Then pirate after pirate, you took them down. You were a top threat to them, and they had finally cut you down.

You blink, taken aback. 

“But… why?” you ask, your fists tightening. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why let me go through all of this—Caesar, the lab—without saying anything?” That rage boiled within you and you seethed.

Whitebeard exhales slowly, his massive shoulders rising and falling. “Because it’s not something I could decide for you. Conqueror’s Haki… it’s not just about power. It’s about your will, your spirit.” He looks at you intently. “And you had to find it on your own. I didn’t want to tell you, didn’t want to shape you into something you weren’t ready for.” Again, Whitebeard shifted in his seat. “It was your will to survive above all else that allowed you to use such a power. Only for it to then be stifled by a man who was too scared to let his daughter out into the world again.

His words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, the storm in your soul surges again. You think of all the times you struggled, all the times you felt weak, powerless. All the times you thought maybe if you had known, things would’ve been different. If you had been able to access this power, would Caesar have been able to do what he did? Would you have lost your wings? Your thoughts even strayed to the long nights within Mary Geoise. Would you have been able to escape sooner?

The silence between you stretches, thick with emotion. You don’t know whether to scream or cry, whether to thank him or condemn him. But more than anything, you just feel tired. Tired of the questions. Tired of the what ifs.

Whitebeard watches you closely, as if he can see the turmoil raging inside you. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “I’ve always known. I let you down. And for that, I’m sorry.”

His apology catches you off guard. Whitebeard, apologizing to you? For a moment, the storm inside you stills, replaced by the sheer weight of his words. You’d spent so long thinking you were the one who had failed, the one who wasn’t strong enough, and here he was, taking that burden on himself.

“Don’t do that…” You said softly. Your failures were your own. Even if the rage wanted him to grovel at your feet, you shook your head. Four seas, what were you even thinking? 

You swallow hard, your fists loosening at your sides. “I don’t understand,” you whisper. “If I really have Conqueror’s Haki… why didn’t I feel it? Why couldn’t I stop him? I was so weak—” You let your mouth run, with the thoughts that swam in your head. Maybe, this way you could ease the weight off of your shoulders. Your feelings were so tied up in this huge fucking knot that you switched between not wanting to burden others of your failures and shortcomings and then wanting it all to be displayed for all to see– for people to see you for who you truly were. You were a coward though, a coward who hid behind a quick anger, and false pride.

“You were never weak,” Whitebeard interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “You were hurt. And sometimes, when we’re hurt, it’s hard to see the strength we still have inside.”

His words sink in, slow and heavy. The truth of them stings, but it also brings a strange sense of relief. You weren’t weak. You were broken, yes, but you were still here. Still standing– this was the truth. A truth you clung to, you allowed it to be the foundation in which you would build yourself anew.

“Conqueror’s Haki isn’t something you can force,” Whitebeard continues. “It’s something that grows with you. And you’ve been growing, even when you didn’t realize it.”

You stand there, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. It’s almost too much to take in. The realization that all this time, you’ve been searching for something that’s been inside you, just waiting for the right moment to surface. But even now, you don’t know if you can accept it. If you can believe it.

Your body felt cold, you shook your head forcing away the tears from springing from your eyes. “I have a lot of shit to sort through…” You admitted quietly. Whitebeard hummed softly.

Whitebeard watches you, his eyes soft but unwavering. “I know it feels unfair. And I’m sorry you had to go through what you did. If I could take that pain from you, I would. But you’re stronger than you think. You always have been.”

The storm inside you grows silent, if only for a moment. His words wrap around you like a blanket, softening the edges of your anger. You still have questions, still have doubts. But right now, in this moment, you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

“I will not buckle or yield…” you whisper, the mantra burning in your mind once again.

You stand in the doorway, the shadows of Whitebeard’s room wrapping around you, the weight of your conversation still heavy in the air. But as you face him, a small ember of clarity burns brighter within you. You can feel the quiet strength in his gaze, and despite everything—the pain, the anger, the uncertainty that clung between the sky and sea—there’s something else now. A quiet understanding between you, forged in years of unspoken bonds.

With a deep breath, you look him in the eye and repeat the words that you spoke in private with him so many weeks ago. "I still remember our promise, Pops. That I would do anything within my own right to stay safe from here on out—no matter what."

For a moment, Whitebeard doesn’t say anything. Instead, he smiles—a soft, proud smile that reaches his eyes. And then, with a subtle movement of his hand, he sends a gentle wave of Haki through the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You feel it wash over you, seeping into your bones, calming the storm that had been raging in your chest. The tension in your arms releases, and for the first time in what feels like forever, your body relaxes, your heart beating slower, steadier.

The weight you’ve been carrying doesn’t disappear, but it becomes lighter, more manageable. You breathe out, the heaviness in your chest easing, and you take a step toward the doorway, ready to leave.

But just as you reach the threshold, you pause.

Something stirs inside you, something that you need to say. The promise you made all those weeks ago has guided you, yes, but it’s no longer enough. Not anymore. There’s a fire inside you now, a need for something more. A need for freedom.

Without turning back to face him, you add in a quiet, resolute voice, "However, I will also do anything in my own right to challenge anything that stands in the way of my freedom."

The words linger in the air between you, charged with the weight of everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve yet to face. It’s a new vow, one you’re making not just to Whitebeard, but to yourself. You didn’t force this command on yourself. You needed the freedom to choose for yourself, that you could inevitably trust your own will to keep it.

You can feel his gaze on you, and when you turn to glance over your shoulder, you see the flicker of pride in his eyes. His smirk is faint but unmistakable, as if he’s known all along that this moment would come. That despite the pain and suffering you carried, you would rise to face the world again, stronger than ever before.

He doesn’t say a word, but the nod of his head speaks volumes. He understands. He may feel guilt for letting his only daughter suffer, but that guilt is overshadowed by the immense pride he feels now, seeing how far you’ve come. How strong you’ve become.

With that silent understanding, you step out of the room, leaving the warmth of his Haki behind, but carrying the weight of your promise with you. The path ahead is uncertain, and the sea within your soul still rages, but for the first time in a long time, you know what you’re fighting for.

Your freedom.

Chapter Text

The New Year had come, and with it, a bitter chill that matched the cold metal of the sea prism cuffs clamped around your wrists. You stood alone in a small, dimly lit room, the echoing voice of the announcer barely reaching you from the stage beyond. The distant murmur of the crowd filtered through the thick walls, a constant reminder of what awaited you.

You were dressed in your finest clothes, garments designed to impress and allure, but the grandeur of your attire felt like a cruel joke in contrast to the chains that bound you. The cage you were held in, its bars cold and unyielding, was far from the life you had imagined when you first arrived in Mary Geoise. You had known fear, you had known dread, but nothing compared to the cold realization that you were nothing more than a spectacle, a pawn in a game far beyond your control.

Then, the moment you had been dreading arrived. Your number was called—#42. A guard entered the room, his expression indifferent as he approached you. The sound of the chain being unhooked from the wall was loud in the quiet room, and the guard's grip on your arm was firm as he led you to the stage. The red fabric of the curtain loomed ahead, a thick barrier between you and the audience that awaited beyond.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you were positioned behind the curtain, the heavy fabric blocking your view but not the sound of the announcer's voice. You waited with bated breath, each second stretching into an eternity as the announcer began to speak of you to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed nobility of Mary Geoise, allow me to present to you #42. A remarkable specimen, its Devil Fruit is said to be a calling to the Gods above, a power that allows it to serve only the highest of nobility. A true angel in the flesh, destined to grace the halls of the most revered."

The words felt like a branding iron, burning into your very soul. You knew what was coming, the fate that awaited you on the other side of the curtain. The power you had been forced to cultivate, the wings that had been both your curse and your only hope, were now nothing more than a selling point, a feature to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

As the curtain began to rise, the bright lights of the stage flooded your vision, blinding you momentarily. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as best you could. The faces of the audience came into view, a sea of anticipation and greed. You were no longer a person—just an object, a tool to be used by those with power. 

And so, with the weight of your fate pressing down on you, you stepped forward into the light, ready to face whatever came next.

“I will not buckle or yield…” you spoke softly as the curtain drew back. Closing your eyes you breathed deeply and then exhaled.

As the curtain fully lifted, the audience's collective gasp echoed through the grand hall. All eyes were fixed on you, taking in the sight of your soft brown wings, still in their juvenile form—a poignant reminder of your youth, of the childhood you had never truly known. Your wings were neatly tucked behind your back, a delicate, almost ethereal contrast to the harsh reality of the chains that bound you.

The announcer, standing tall beside you, glanced back with a nod, a silent command that needed no words. You knew what was expected of you. With a deep breath, you unfurled your wings, the feathers spreading wide to reveal their full beauty. The soft hues of brown shimmered in the light, a mesmerizing display that left the audience in awe. 

Another wave of gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by an eager, almost frenzied murmur as they took in the sight before them. You could see the hunger in their eyes, the greed that turned your very existence into something they could own, control, and exploit. The air was thick with anticipation, and then, as if on cue, a flurry of cards shot up into the air. 

The bidding had begun, and it was fierce. Numbers were called out, each higher than the last, as the price for your ownership skyrocketed. You stood there, wings spread, heart pounding, as the auctioneer’s gavel fell again and again, the numbers climbing ever higher.

In that moment, you were no longer a child, no longer a person with dreams or fears. You were a commodity, a prize to be won, your wings nothing more than a feature to be flaunted. The reality of your situation pressed down on you, heavier than any chain could ever be.

And yet, through it all, you held your wings steady, your expression a carefully crafted mask of calm. For as long as they could see your wings, as long as you could hold their gaze, you knew you were playing the role expected of you.

As the frenzy of bidding began to settle, one card remained raised, standing out among the rest. The room fell into a tense silence as all eyes turned toward it, and a sense of finality hung in the air. The announcer, sensing the climax of the event, lifted his gavel and pointed it toward the source of the bid: a man sitting high in the stands.

“100,000,000 berries!” He yelled as gasps echoed throughout the room. Even your facade slipped as you stared at him.

He was impeccably dressed, his appearance exuding wealth and power. Beside him sat a woman with striking red hair, her presence as commanding as his. There was no mistaking who they were—Celestial Dragons, the very pinnacle of nobility in Mary Geoise. The man's expression was one of smug satisfaction, knowing that he had just outbid everyone in the room with a price so high that it had left the other bidders in stunned silence.

The three knocks of the gavel echoed through the hall, sealing your fate. You had fetched the highest price to date, a record that would likely be spoken of in whispers throughout the Holy Land for years to come. The transaction was complete—you were sold.

As the man leaned back in his seat, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes, you dared to look up at him, your heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. But it wasn’t his gaze that unsettled you; it was the cold, piercing stare of the woman beside him. Her beady eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in her gaze—something darker, more sinister—that made your blood run cold.

You were now in their possession, bound to serve them in whatever way they saw fit. The realization of this sent a wave of dread through you, but you knew better than to show it. Instead, you kept your wings folded neatly behind you, your expression as neutral as possible, even as the coldness in the woman’s eyes seemed to seep into your very soul.

In that moment, you understood the full gravity of your situation. You were no longer just a child with wings; you were now the property of one of the most powerful families in the world. And whatever lay ahead, you knew it would be far from the paradise that Mary Geoise was rumored to be.

Several months had passed since the day you were bought by the Celestial Dragons. In that time, you had come to know them as Giovani and Vivianne, names that now held a weight of dread in your mind. Life within their household had taken on a surreal quality, a mix of rigid formality and unsettling undercurrents.

Giovani, the man who had placed the winning bid, was stern but not altogether unkind. He was as present as a Celestial Dragon could be, which wasn’t saying much. His interactions with you were measured, almost distant, as though he viewed you more as a valuable possession than a person. Yet, there was a strange sort of structure to his presence, a cold consistency that you learned to navigate.

Vivianne, however, was an entirely different story. The reason behind your purchase became clear over time. Vivianne was unable to bear children, a fact that seemed to gnaw at her with a bitterness that only deepened with each passing day. They wanted to care for you as a surrogate child, something to fill the void in their opulent lives until a madam of Giovani could produce an heir.

Though the idea of being cared for in such a grand setting might have seemed like a stroke of luck to an outsider, the reality was far from it. While Giovani maintained a stern but predictable demeanor, it was Vivianne who made living with them a constant strain. She was cold, calculating, and deeply resentful of the role you were forced to play in their lives.

She would often fix you with those beady, unnerving eyes, her gaze filled with an inexplicable malice. Every interaction with her was tinged with discomfort, as if she were trying to extract something from you that you couldn’t quite understand. You felt more like a tool to her, something to be molded and controlled, rather than a person with your own thoughts and feelings.

The opulence of their home, the lavish meals, the fine clothes—they all felt like gilded chains. You were trapped in a life of luxury that was anything but comfortable. Every day was a test of endurance, a challenge to maintain the facade they demanded of you while the weight of their expectations pressed down on you like a stone.

The months dragged on, each day blending into the next in a haze of tense interactions and stifling routines. You learned quickly to keep your emotions in check, to never show weakness, and to always be on guard. For while Giovani might have been stern, it was Vivianne’s quiet cruelty that truly made your life with them unbearable.

The next nine months were a blur of opulence and pageantry, where you found yourself caught in the whirlwind of Giovani’s pride. He paraded you around society like a prized possession, reveling in the admiration and envy of others. Everywhere you went, people would whisper and nod in approval, praising Giovani for his ability to possess such a rare and beautiful creature. You were a living trophy, a symbol of his status and power, and he delighted in every moment of it.

At first, the attention was overwhelming, a dizzying array of lavish parties, grand dinners, and endless introductions to people who saw you as nothing more than a spectacle. Giovani took you to the finest places, dressed you in the most extravagant clothes, and showcased you to anyone who would listen. But as time wore on, the hollow nature of it all became painfully clear. You were never truly seen, never truly acknowledged as a person—only as an object of fascination, a rare and exotic specimen held closer to the Gods then even Celestial Dragons.

As the ninth month approached, however, the atmosphere in the household began to shift. The excitement that had once surrounded you started to fade, replaced by an unsettling sense of detachment. Giovani’s interest waned, and the outings became less frequent. Vivianne, who had always regarded you with a cold indifference, began to take a more active role in your life. Her gaze was no longer merely unsettling; it was calculating, as if she were weighing your worth against some unseen measure.

Then, one evening, Vivianne summoned you to her chambers. Her demeanor was colder than ever as she informed you of their decision. The child they had always wanted, the one they had longed for, had finally arrived. Vivianne’s tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of any warmth or empathy, as she explained that your presence was no longer required. Your wings, once hailed as god-blessed, were now unnecessary in their household.

Without ceremony, Vivianne personally had a carriage escort you back to the auction house. The grandeur of your former life melted away with each passing minute, replaced by the stark reality of your situation. You were no longer the cherished trophy, but rather a commodity to be sold off once again. The memories of lavish living, of being paraded around like a prized possession, were now tinged with bitterness.

As you stood in the auction house, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder once more, the emptiness of your past months became all too clear. You had been nothing more than a temporary adornment, a fleeting fascination in the lives of those who saw you as little more than a means to an end. The child they had longed for had taken your place, and with that, you were cast aside—discarded like a forgotten ornament no longer fit to grace their home.

Chapter Text

It’s scary to be so consumed with a burning rage with nowhere for it to go. You contemplated this thought while you stood in front of Shanks. He had asked you to come train with him early the following morning. Your conversation with Whitebeard still clung to your mind as you breathed softly. He had drilled you in honing your haki skills. Now, he has asked you to command him again. You had been doing this damn training for the last two hours. Now, you are growing impatient. You looked over at Marco who sat, legs splayed and back leaning against the set of stairs he was on. He had been looking at you the entire time. Although you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his stoic face betrayed nothing. A part of you was curious to know what he was thinking about. Whether he was happy with how far you had come in a matter of days or if he simply was just babysitting you like he had always done. 

The Red Force and The Moby Dick were buzzing with activity, the remaining crew members who were out at sea now joined and lingered nearby. When you awoke this morning you had accounted for nearly ten other ships, Namur has stated that more were on the way as well. However, there had yet been word of Whitebeard or Shank’s allies who would join in the coming war. Commanders were running back and forth between ships tallying what resources they had and how many men were ready to fight. Rakuyo had mentioned to you briefly at breakfast that there were roughly two thousand men ready to fight. 

However, the strength of the army was great but it wouldn’t be enough to take out Blackbeard. His men rallied at around five thousand men under this banner. It would be a losing fight if the two Captains decided to head out now. They needed to wait until their allied forces contacted them.

Shaking your sweaty palms you exhaled and looked to the sky. Your mind was preoccupied. You wondered if they would even respond. Your own plan brewed in your head as you blinked and stared at Red Haired Shanks.

“Keep pushing.” He said, his voice firm as he stared at you. He was standing there waiting for you to command him. He had not so much as moved a muscle in the past few hours. 

“We’re not moving until you command me.” He added as he crossed his arms. You scowled and mimicked his moves, crossing your own arms. You bit your tongue and looked to the ground. You had been trying, so fucking hard, to get him to do anything but he just stood there. At this point in your training you knew he was pushing back, and hard, so you were more adept at using your haki now. Yet, he wanted you to get stronger. Sighing, you pushed away the foul language from your tongue and closed your eyes. You reached for that raging sea within you and found it causing more chaos that you’d like. It was like a storm, waves higher than any other you had seen before. Yet, you pushed past it. Past the looming walls of waves, and plunged into the waters and dove your conscious lower, closer to that void that the sea guarded. It thrashed you around and pulled you back to the surface. You felt like something was missing when you dove. A part of you that was hidden away, yet you couldn’t put your finger on it. You resurfaced and gasped for breath as you were pushed back by the waves. You groaned and opened your eyes.

“Again.” Shanks spoke. You nodded and closed your eyes again.

It was so easy to get to that place where the sea stood in your soul. Yet it felt like iron chains when you tried to break through the storm and to the void.

Marco sat on the stairs, his eyes never leaving your body as you closed your eyes for the thousandth time that morning. You were struggling and Shanks wouldn’t let up. He sighed softly as he ran a hand through his hair. He felt that deep thrumming pulse the other day and wondered why you couldn’t summon that power again. It made his knees weak and mind foggy, the only other person to make him feel that way was his pops. He wanted you to reach that power, wanted you to realize just how strong you were, despite your missing devil fruit. 

A few moments had passed and Marco looked out to the horizon. His phoenix had been so tense over the last several weeks. It didn’t help that he too hadn’t been able to use it for quite some time too. Not ever since he went out to find you. His phoenix was still searching for the imprint of your soft feathers. He had to quell the bird's nerves on several occasions when you walked by him. It was beginning to tear at his resolve. 

What’s your problem anyways ? He thought inwardly. It’s not like his phoenix could reply back, it was just this overwhelming feeling to be near you, and touch you. He deliberated these thoughts as you continued your training with shanks. When he had your imprint his phoenix was at ease. It was like a piece of treasure, that it could touch and look at whenever it wanted without interfering with his own daily happenings. Now though? It pushed into his consciousness and wanted him to do it himself. That if he did give into his devil fruit desires his phoenix would feel at ease. He wasn’t going to do that, for two reasons: he didn’t want to go following you around the ship more than he needed to, and secondly, he didn’t want to freak you out. You were so prone to becoming agitated when people stood too close, or looked too long as it was. 

Marco continued to mull over possibilities as to why his phoenix was so tense with your imprint gone. It wasn’t until a shock of electricity coursed through his body that he started to understand. The Shock was so familiar. It was like fire, followed by the caress of soft feathers. He whipped his head towards Shanks and noted that he didn’t feel what he just did. He looked back to you and you were still concentrating on the training. He scowled and ran a hand over his mouth before he looked away again. 

What in the four seas was that? He thought as he shivered softly as that shock left his body. His Phoenix stopped its endless worry and stood still for a brief moment before it lurched within him and forced him to look back at you. His eyes raked over your body and the same tugging sensation urged him to get up and walk up to you. He stifled that urge and breathed deeply. That shock was so quick to come and go, yet it was unmistakably you– why the flames though? 

You were still in the damn sea that raged around you. You wanted to yell, scream, and thrash about because this whole fucking thing was taking to long to get a hold of. You were clinging to the missing piece in you whenever you reached within to try and swim through the sea. You breathed in, and then out, you needed to calm down. Working yourself into a frenzy wasn’t going to help. You looked around and it was then you heard the soft echo of a singular high-pitched whistling in the distance. The sound was drowned out over the crashing of waves and whirling of wind, but the sound was unmistakable. You looked around and noticed an island in the distance. Forgetting your current objective your soul urged you to follow that sound and so you did. In a flash of light and smoke you had found yourself on that island. You waited to hear that same sound again. Again that same high-pitched singular note echoed across the island and you followed it. It sounded like nothing you had ever heard before in nature. 

You walked through the thick brush of the island, finding it nearly impossible to penetrate. Yet, after fighting your way through vines, shrubs and bulky trees you came across an inner circle surrounded by small stone pillars. In the center of this circle was a twisting cherry blossom tree. You looked around the enclosure of this space and wondered why it was here in your soul. You walked around the edge of the stone pillars and noted that they had strange runes carved into them. Tilting your head curiously you tried to step into the circle. When your foot crossed the threshold the sounds of the forest and raging sea were silenced. It was like an inner peace had been forced to stay within this singular circle. Then the sound reverberated in your soul. You looked up and found that there was an eagle sitting in the three. You gaped as you understood immediately what this was. The eagle was perched in the cherry blossom tree, looking at you. It too tilted its head and let out another trill of high-pitched notes– as if acknowledging your presence.

“Why are you here?” you asked as you stood before the eagle. It did not answer. Yet, you could almost feel it within your own bones as it continued to stare at you. This place was peaceful, far away, and safe. This is where your devil fruit had come to hide ever since its power was threatened with that serum. Looking around at the rune carved pillars and scowled.

“I need you, y’know.” you muttered as you thought. It did not reply, but you didn’t need it to. 

“I need you more than ever.” you whispered as you walked along the edges of the inner circle. The calmness of this place was almost intoxicating. Never in your entire life had you been able to sit in a place as calm as this. Your thoughts were all a mess, life always changing, and nightmares clawing at your memories. The bird only gave a singular high-pitched note and shifted in the tree. 

“I won’t lie, I wouldn’t leave this place either, but I think I finally figured out what has kept me from reaching that void below the sea out there.” You gave pause as you looked back at the bird. You weren’t entirely sure what this would do to you, but you needed to try. The bird gave you an inquisitive look as you sighed deeply. 

“It’s you.” You spoke, your voice louder than before as you eyed the bird. “You have been with me for my entire life, you grew up, witnessed my mess and still decided that I was still a good host. Through it all, the good and bad, you stayed with me. You could have decided for yourself to leave me, regenerate in another part of the world, but you stayed. I can’t say that for a lot of people.” Mostly because you had been an ass and shoved people away, had built walls so large that no one could climb over them, and had casted your heart into the raging sea and let it sink to the bottom. “Don’t make me tear this place apart.” You muttered as you turned back to those rune carved pillars. The bird shifted uneasy in its place in the cherry blossom tree. “Because if you don’t you would be standing in my way, and I will challenge anything to get my freedom back.” your voice wavered even as you spoke those words. You weren’t sure entirely what would happen if you tore down those runes, but if this bird found solace in this area and would not leave, then you would destroy its peace and force it back into the chaos.

“With you, I feel free, so please, don’t make me do this...” You added as you looked at the bird once more. It tilted its head towards you and trilled again. There it was again, the feeling that licked at your bones. It would not move, it would not chance going back into the chaos again. 

“So be it.” You moved and you forced those pillars to collapse one by one. The forest floor rumbled in unease as you tore down the first pillar. The bird ruffled its feathers and hoped back and forth in the tree, yet it made no move to attack you. There were twelve pillars in total and as each one fell the ground rumbled and cracked beneath your feet. You continued to move through each pillar and pulled them from the ground and tossed them away. The quiet tranquility of this place slowly slipped away with each removal. When you finally came to the last pillar you looked at the bird and it only stared at you. You scowled and gripped the twelfth and final pillar and yanked it from the ground. The trees shuddered and cracked under the trembling of the ground and once that pillar was removed from the ground the sound of the raging waves and whirling winds interrupted the quiet tranquil circle. 

As the pillar thudded to the ground the eagle stopped all movement and went quiet. Then the heat hit your face. It was in an instant that a whirling pillar of flame engulfed the once quiet circle and burned everything within its core. You stumbled back and fell on your ass at the edge of the tree line and gaped as everything turned to ash.

“Shit, what the fuck?!” You yelled as you saw the raging pillar of fire engulf everything. Did you just kill your devil fruit? As the fire burned into nothingness the pile of ash at the center was all that was left. You rushed forward, the ash covering your skin as you dug through the pile of ashes and looked for your devil fruit.

“Where did you go?!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I screwed up, I didn't know–” you kept on digging through the ash, coughing and sputtering as you shifted through nothingness. You dug for what felt like hours. Your thoughts in disarray as you cried. You thought that if you tore down those pillars your devil fruit would be forced to live in the chaos. Live in the chaos like you had your entire life. You were so selfish, and reckless, and everything negative under the sun. In the distance you heard the sea continue its rampage on itself. Slow waves slowly seeping through the forest and soaking up the ash.

“No, no, no you won’t take this away, I need to find it!” you begged as you kept digging. Then as you scrape away a pile of ash a lump laid below. You halted dead in your tracks and looked at this small ball of brown fluff covered in ash. Your hands trembled as they slowly cupped the small ball of fur. It was so tiny, and innocent, and scared in your arms.

“What the–” Your voice trembled as you held the baby bird in your hands. This couldn’t be it, could it? It was so tiny and fragile, not the one that was in the cherry blossom tree before. Yet, the feeling that coursed through your body made you clutch onto this tiny bird.

“I-I can take care of you…” You whispered quietly as your trembling hands held the bird close to your chest. The bird chirped quietly in your hands as it huddled in your hands, trying to find warmth. 

It was then in a blur of light and ash that you stumbled back and fell onto your ass. The bird gone, and your consciousness back to reality.

There were tears running down your eyes as you stared blankly in front of you. Your mind was racing and nothing was making sense. What the hell had you done?  

“Come back to me.” The voice was soft, gentle, as two hands clutched your shoulders. You looked up and saw cobalt eyes filled with worry staring at you. “What happened?” Marco asked as he searched your eyes. It had only been seconds between the time he had felt that shock and when you had stumbled backwards tears streaming down your face.

“I don’t know…” you whispered back. “I tried reaching for it, then I felt my fruit. I did something stupid.” You muttered so quietly as you stared at Marco, eyes wide with fear.

“Whatever you did, it’s okay.” Marco whispered back as he pulled you into a hug. You shrunk into his chest and closed your eyes. How did he know it was okay? How did he know that everything would be fine? You shook your head and dispelled your worries and put your entire faith into his words. The baby bird was alive, Marco thought you would be okay, so you needed to believe that you would be. 

“Training is done for today.” Marco noted briskly as he lifted you up in his arms and carried you off of the Red Force.

“Before you go, look to the Horizon, we have company.” Shanks pointed to the horizon and there it was, a silhouette of a ship coming at them full force. Marco scowled and cursed under his breath as he took you back to the Moby Dick.

“Ready your forces. I’ll go see who it is.” He said curtly as he walked across the plank. The sound of bells rang in the air as all ships took notice of the incoming ship in the distance. People on deck were running around going to their stations as Whitebeard walked out and stood at the head of the ship. 

Marco placed out beside Whitebeard and then took to the air. 

You sat beside Whitebeard and shook your head. Things were moving quickly and you needed to ground yourself in the moment. Whatever you did you couldn’t dwell on it with a looming threat on the horizon. Once you got to your feet You looked out to the horizon and saw Marco in his full phoenix form headed towards the ship.

“What is he doing?” You asked as you kept your eyes on him.

“He’s doing his job.” Whitebeard said curtly as he glared at the horizon.

You watched as Marco the Phoenix patrolled the air above the ship he was assessing. Then as soon as he made one full circle above the ship he started to fly back. In a matter of seconds he landed gracefully on the ship in front of Whitebeard.

“It's a ship from the revolutionary army. They want to talk.” Marco said flatly as he looked at you. Whitebeard scoffed and crossed his arms.

“So be it.” Whitebeard walked away from the head of the ship and back to his throne that was placed on the main deck.

The commanders of the Moby Dick stood by each other with Whitebeard in the center of the line when the members of the Revolutionary army lowered their anchor. You stood beside Ace as you watched your comrades lower the plant to connect the two ships together. 

“What do you think they want?” You whispered to Ace who looked up at you.

“You know as much as I do.” You deflated at his comment but shrugged. It was a pointless question, but you had to ask.

You looked down the line and at Whitebeard who stared down the first men who entered onto his ship. Those who walked across the plank were not adorned with weapons, and held their haki to themselves. Wise moves amongst whoever ordered them. As you watched them crowd onto the ship Whitebeard's men raised their weapons to them. Some of the revolutionary soldiers scowled while others raised their hands.

It was then that a figure wearing a cloak walked across. Their haki was radiating off of them in strong waves. Not nearly as strong as Shanks when he first boarded the Moby. You scowled and crossed your arms. You own haki keeping theirs at bay. 

“Don’t threaten my men, we come in peace.” The man spoke as he lowered his hood to reveal himself. It was then your eyes widened. His voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had met him before. Yet, your body, it knew. It grew cold as your heart raced like a thunderstorm in your chest. That raging sea in your soul stopped fro merely a moment as you looked at his facial features. They were so similar, you saw them before. You broke formation as you stumbled forwards.

“What do you want, you brat?” Whitebeard bellowed as his own haki radiated from him. Your knees grew weak and you nearly fell forwards as you continued to stare at that man. He was so familiar. You saw those same facial features whenever you looked in the mirror.

“It can’t be…” you muttered as Ace, Curiel, and Haruta gawked at you. You were breaking formation and walking towards a potential threat. 

“Get back in formation!” Whitebeard growled at you, yet you couldn't hear him. 

“How are you…” You stuttered again as another wave of Whitebeard's haki coursed through your bones and made you fall to your knees. 

Ace walked forwards and grabbed you by the shoulders and hoisted you to your feet and back in line. You struggled against him as you continued to stare at him.

“C’mon, stop fighting and get back in line or I’ll put you below deck.” Ace muttered into your ear.

“I can’t he’s–” your eyes began to water as you tugged away from Ace.

“Don’t be stupid!” Ace yelled at you. He looked between you and the man you were staring at. He didn’t know what was wrong with you.

“He’s my brother!” you yelled as you unhooked yourself from Ace’s grasp.

The man broke his gaze with Whitebeard and looked towards you, his eyes going wide as he looked at you. It was undeniable, you two were related.

“Newt…” You whispered before you passed out. Whitebeard's haki knocking you unconscious.

Chapter Text

You remained at the auction house only a mere few hours, a fleeting temporary moment, before yet another set of hands claimed you—this time, those of a different Celestial Dragon. His presence was immediately unnerving, a stark contrast to the previous family you had served. There was a palpable darkness about him, an underlying cruelty that radiated from him like a noxious aura. His eyes held a sharpness that sent shivers down your spine, and you quickly realized that whatever was coming next would be far from the superficial life you had previously known.

The Celestial Dragon’s sister, who accompanied him, was a picture of icy elegance, yet her demeanor betrayed a tension that spoke volumes. She was careful, calculating in her movements, as if wary of provoking her brother’s ire. It was clear that this man, your new master, was far more cunning and abrasive than Giovani ever was.

Upon collecting you, the Celestial Dragon wasted no time in making his intentions clear. "You are to be of service to me and my friends," he said with a voice dripping with authority and a hint of menace. "This contract will last until I am wed. Consider it my way of enjoying some fun before I am shackled by marriage."

His words left no room for misinterpretation. You were to be his plaything, a pawn in whatever twisted games he and his friends concocted. The sense of dread that settled over you was suffocating, but you knew better than to show it. Any sign of fear or resistance would only amuse him further, and you couldn't afford to give him that satisfaction.

As you were led away from the auction house, the reality of your new situation began to sink in. The life you had known before, as hollow as it was, now seemed like a distant memory. You were no longer just a trophy to be displayed; you were a tool, an instrument for someone else’s twisted pleasures. And this time, there would be no facade of grandeur or luxury to shield you from the harshness of your reality.

The Celestial Dragon’s home was as grand as any in Mary Geoise, but it was devoid of warmth, filled instead with an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to mirror the man who lived there. You could feel the eyes of the household staff on you, their pity and fear mingling with your own. This was no place of comfort or security—this was a gilded cage, and you were its newest inhabitant.

The Celestial Dragon, though distant and cold, never once laid a hand on you. However, for many years, your existence became a spectacle for others to behold. You were paraded like a divine artifact, a being of grace and light, a blessing supposedly brought forth from the gods to walk among men. Your presence was a source of pride for the Dragon, a way for him to bask in the reflected glory of the heavens that others believed you represented.

Your wings, always unfurled, were the centerpiece of this grand illusion. They were never to be hidden, always on display as proof of your supposed divinity. The soft brown feathers, once a burden, had now become your defining feature—a symbol of the heavens in the eyes of those who saw you. You were the embodiment of grace, the living connection between the mortal world and the realm of the gods. And so, you became an object of fascination and reverence, your very presence elevating the status of the man who claimed ownership over you.

Lavish parties were held in the Dragon’s honor, celebrations of his perceived favor from the gods. His friends and associates would gather in his opulent home, their eyes fixated on you as if merely being in your presence brought them closer to the divine. They whispered among themselves, marveling at the sheer luck of the Dragon to have you under his roof. Their words were laced with envy and admiration, and yet, none of them saw you for what you truly were—just another soul trapped in the gilded cage of Mary Geoise.

But when the parties ended, and the guests departed, you were locked away. The grand halls and lavish rooms faded into the background as you were led back to your confinement. The Celestial Dragon’s fear of your escape was too great to allow you any semblance of freedom. He never touched you physically, his desires elsewhere, but the emotional touch he left on you felt real, so real that you wallowed away into a fine and chiseled husk. 

You sit in the dimly lit chamber, the cold stone beneath you a stark reminder of your captivity. The air is heavy, filled with the scent of incense, yet it does nothing to mask the damp chill of the lower thresholds where you’ve been confined. Above you, the grand house of the celestial dragon hums with life, but down here, you are forgotten. A relic. A living symbol of the gods, they say, though you feel more like a caged bird, your soft brown feathers slowly withering with time.

Your skin, once warm and supple, has grown taut, stretched too thin over a frame that no longer feels your own. You are transforming, not into a god, but into a fragile statue, worshipped for your fragility, your decay. The celestial dragons have made you a spectacle, a false idol, your life defined by the price they paid for you at the human auction.

It was that price that marked your status—godhood through gold, your worth determined by the whims of those who view you as little more than an object. You are no divine being, no messenger of higher powers. Instead, you are a symbol, a charm, a token that whoever stands by your side will be graced by the gods themselves. Yet here, locked away in the depths of this grand house, you wonder what grace could ever touch such a hollow existence.

The days blurred into nights, each one bleeding into the next until time itself lost meaning. The world outside your small room was filled with admiration—empty words from strangers, envy from nobility who longed for the power you supposedly embodied. Their praise, hollow and repetitive, echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the role you were forced to play. You were always on display, your wings aching from the strain of being held aloft for the eyes of those who saw in you nothing more than a symbol.

The golden bars of your cage were invisible, but their weight pressed down on you with an unyielding force, as if they were made of the expectations of those around you. You could feel them in every glance, every whispered word, every reverent touch that never asked for permission. You were a blessing, a curse, a symbol of divine favor, but never yourself. Never human. Never free.

The years passed, and with them, any hope you had clung to faded like a distant memory, slipping further and further from your grasp. Once, you dreamed of escape, of reclaiming your life, but now those dreams felt like the fantasies of another person. A person who no longer existed. The thought of being more than this—a tool, a living relic—was almost laughable now. You were the artifact that everyone desired, but no one truly saw. A vessel for their ambitions, but never for your own.

And so, you sat alone, your wings drooping, your heart heavy, as the days stretched endlessly before you.

You had felt this shift of power the moment you were locked away for the final time below the mansion. His intentions elsewhere as if your divine presence withered away. You had heard whispers from guards on duty that he was challenging the status quo that your form along set long ago when you were placed in Mary Geoise. You gnawed at your thoughts and the looming uncertain future that awaited you. You waited and waited in those stuffy walls, yet, he never called upon you again. Your memory fading into the backgrounds of lavish society.

At thirteen, your life as the celestial dragon’s living trophy has finally come to an end. The endless parade of "show and tell" games, where you were passed between curious hands and envious gazes, is over—but the toll it’s taken on your body is undeniable. Years of standing as a prized possession, an object of worship and fascination, have left you hollow. The soft brown feathers that once covered your wings now lay limp, brittle, and thinning with each passing day.

Your body, once lithe and strong, has withered under the weight of your captivity. Sustained only by the meager scraps of food you were given, you never starved, but you never truly lived either. Every bite was measured, every portion just enough to maintain the image of grace and beauty your captor cherished so dearly. You were never allowed to grow, never given the space to truly become something more than the fragile symbol they wanted you to be.

Now, at thirteen, you are no longer a living trophy, but a shell of the person you once were. Your youth, taken in slow increments, traded for the false divinity the celestial dragons sought to cultivate in you. You were never allowed to be yourself—only what they wanted, a reflection of their power and prestige. And now, even that reflection has faded, leaving you a ghost in your own skin, a faint echo of the life you could have lived.

The day of your release has finally come, though it feels more like an afterthought than a moment of liberation. The celestial dragon no longer has use for you, not now that his new wife has arrived. She glows with the vitality and opulence of her station, draped in fine silks and shimmering jewels. She walks with the grace of someone who has never known hunger, never felt the weight of invisible chains binding her to a life of display. You watch her enter the grand house that has been your gilded cage for so many years, her every step echoing with the promise of a life filled with luxury.

You are being led out—finally, mercifully free—but there is no joy, no relief, only a strange numbness. As you glance back at the new wife, resplendent in her finery, you feel no bitterness, no anger. Pity swells in your chest instead. You know too well what awaits her in this house of illusion. She is stepping into the role you once occupied, a role that glittered with the trappings of wealth and privilege, but was hollow at its core. A life of empty praise, of admiration that never truly sees, of being worshiped as a symbol but never loved as a person.

She does not yet know the coldness behind those golden walls. She has not yet felt her wings ache from being held aloft for the amusement of others. She will. Soon, her vitality will be drained, her glow dimmed, and her beauty reduced to another object in his collection.

You’ve seen it before, felt it seep into your very bones. Beneath the glittering surface of her opulent life, beneath the gold and silk, lies a dark, suffocating void. It is a void that consumes everything it touches, swallowing hope, joy, and love, leaving only the shell of a person behind. The woman does not yet realize this, blinded by the allure of her new role, dazzled by the promises of divine favor and the envy of all who see her.

But you know better. You know how quickly the admiration will turn into isolation, how the praise will become chains, invisible but unbreakable. Her beauty, her grace, will become her prison, just as yours did. The celestial dragon may treasure her now, but soon, she will be nothing more than a symbol—another living relic to be displayed, cherished only for the image she presents.

As you stand there, being led away from the life that has drained you for so long, you do not look back with anger. Instead, you feel pity for the woman who now takes your place. She does not yet know the emptiness that awaits her, the gradual erosion of self that comes with being seen but never truly known. And as the doors close behind you, you leave her to that fate, knowing that while you are broken, you are at last free.

As you pass by the Dragon and his entourage, the rustle of fine robes and the murmur of low voices surround you. You move like a shadow, unnoticed, forgotten. But then, a single word reaches your ears—a name that stirs something deep within you, something that had long since faded into the haze of your captivity. Your family name. 

It stops you in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, everything else fades away. The years you’ve spent locked in this place, the endless days of being paraded like a trophy, the ache in your wings—it all disappears in the face of this sudden recollection. The name that once held so much meaning, the name that defined who you were before you became a symbol, a tool. It was a distant, almost forgotten part of you, but hearing it now brings it all rushing back.

But there is no warmth in the voices that speak your name. No reverence, no nostalgia. The tone is sharp, laced with disdain. As you listen, their words become clear, and the weight of them crushes what little hope you might have still held. Your family, once so desperate to rise to the highest echelons of society, the very family that sold you to the celestial dragon in hopes of securing their status, has fallen from grace. 

They have been shunned from high society, cast out of the Holy Land, and their name now spoken with contempt rather than respect. The very people who once welcomed them with open arms have turned their backs. The dream they sacrificed you for has crumbled, and they have been left with nothing.

The realization settles over you like a cold wave. The life they had so eagerly traded you for, the prestige they sought at the cost of your freedom, has slipped through their fingers. And yet, as the words sink in, you feel no joy in their downfall, no vindication. Only a hollow sense of inevitability, a deep sadness for what was lost—for both them and you. 

They, too, were consumed by the same void that nearly destroyed you, blind to the truth until it was too late. They, like you, were trapped in the illusion of power and prestige. And now, as you stand there, listening to the whispers of your family's disgrace, you realize that you have been freed from that same fate. 

For the first time in years, you are no longer bound by the expectations of others. You are no longer a symbol of their ambitions, no longer a pawn in their quest for glory. You are free. But the cost of that freedom—your childhood, your innocence, your family—hangs heavy in the air as you walk away.

A wave of emotions crashes over you, a torrent too overwhelming to contain. Grief surges first, sharp and deep, for the family you left behind, for the parents who traded your life in pursuit of their own ambitions. They were your past, your blood, and yet you hardly recognize the people they’ve become—shunned, disgraced, their names spoken in hushed tones of contempt. There is no going back to them, no home to return to. That loss hits you with brutal force, a pain that echoes the years of abandonment.

Anger rises next, hot and fierce, burning through the sorrow. How could they have done this to you? They were so desperate to climb, so willing to sacrifice you for the chance to stand among the elite. And for what? For the hollow promises of wealth and power that were never truly theirs? Their downfall feels like justice, but it brings no satisfaction, only more pain. Their dreams, once gilded and shimmering, now lie in ruins, and a part of you still aches for the life they could have had without betraying you.

But beneath the grief and anger, there is something else—a deep, consuming emptiness. It hollows you out from the inside, gnawing at the edges of everything you once knew. The world you grew up in, the life that was shaped by the hands of others, has crumbled. There is nothing left of it but dust and echoes. The Holy Land, with all its glories, is no longer yours. Your family, once a beacon of hope for your future, has been cast aside. The life they tried to force upon you, the role they made you play, is gone.

And in its wake, you stand on the edge of nothing– The precipice of an unknown future.

The person you once were—the living trophy, the symbol of divine favor—no longer exists. The future is unknown, a vast and frightening expanse that stretches before you, untethered from everything you once thought was certain. The years spent as a captive, the hollow praise, the relentless parade of admiration and envy—they all feel like distant memories, almost as if they happened to someone else.

Yet the emptiness remains, pressing in on you, swallowing the pieces of who you were. What remains is unclear, but as you take one final breath and step away from the celestial dragon’s house, you realize that the ruins of your past are not the end. They are a beginning, no matter how painful or uncertain it may be.

Now, as you walk into the unknown, the future is yours to shape—for the first time in your life. And though the emptiness still clings to you, there is a small, quiet flicker of something else. A freedom that is unfamiliar but real. A chance to find out who you are, without the weight of anyone else’s expectations.

As you leave the Dragon’s estate, the bitter taste of your final moments there lingers in your mind, refusing to fade. Weakened, your body frail and running on fumes, you had thought your time in that place was finally over. But instead of a quiet release, the celestial dragon had devised one final, twisted spectacle. A horrifying tournament—a parting display of arrogance and defiance. It was a challenge to the gods themselves, a declaration that the celestial dragons were the true rulers of the world, their status divine and unshakable. You, the one with wings, had been nothing more than a tool in their eyes, and now they would prove that their power did not rest on your existence.

You had been dragged, without protest, to the grand arena, your legs barely supporting your weight. The air was thick with the sound of roaring crowds, hungry for violence, for blood. In that moment, you realized the truth: you were no longer a symbol of their grandeur, but a piece in their cruel game. Your life was no longer sacred—just a final offering, a spectacle to mock the gods.

Thrown into the ring, your body hit the ground with a dull thud, the cheers and jeers of the crowd a distant blur in your ears. Above you, the celestial dragon watched, his eyes gleaming with contempt. This was his farewell, a brutal goodbye to the girl who had once been his prized possession. But this was more than that—it was a statement. That even without you, the celestial dragons would reign supreme. Their power was absolute, and you were nothing but a fragile reminder of the gods they sought to surpass.

The gates of the arena groaned open, and from the shadows, the king beasts emerged—massive, wild creatures, each one more terrifying than the last. Their snarls echoed off the stone walls, and their eyes, filled with a primal hunger, locked onto you. The crowd roared, reveling in the carnage that was sure to follow.

You stood there, trembling, your wings dragging behind you, too weak to lift you from the ground. Every muscle in your body screamed in exhaustion, and the air felt thick, each breath a battle of its own. You had no weapons, no strength left to fight—but it didn’t matter. This was never a battle you were meant to win. This was the celestial dragon’s final act of defiance against the gods, a twisted display that showed they needed no divine favor to claim their place as rulers.

As the beasts closed in, snarling and snapping their jaws, time seemed to slow. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you—a resignation, perhaps, or something deeper. In that moment, you were no longer the celestial dragon’s tool, no longer the symbol of their ambition. You were simply yourself, a fragile, broken girl standing in the face of something far greater than she could ever hope to overcome.

And yet, even as the beasts lunged, you felt a quiet defiance stir within you. You were weak, yes, but you were still here, still breathing. The celestial dragons may claim divinity, but they could never erase what you had endured. They could never take away the will that had kept you alive, even through all the years of isolation and suffering.

As the world around you descended into chaos, you stood your ground. You had been thrown into this ring to die, to serve as a final statement in the dragon’s game of power. But in that moment, with the king beasts closing in, you were no longer just their discarded prize. You were something more—something they could never take from you. And as the shadows of the beasts fell over you, you met them with the last remnants of your strength, ready to face whatever came next.

With your body weak and battered by years of captivity and malnourishment, something deep within you stirred as the beasts approached—something primal, fierce, and unrelenting. You had believed that you were ready to pass on, that you would welcome death as a release, a chance to be reincarnated into a life unburdened by the suffering that had defined your existence. Yet, as the first beast lunged, jaws wide and eyes glinting with malice, a fire ignited within you—hot, wild, and consuming.

It wasn’t just a desire to survive; it was fury, pure and untempered. A storm raged inside you, urged on by the countless injustices you had endured—the years spent as a living trophy, the betrayal of your family, the suffocating emptiness of a life lived for others. Now, in this moment, with your back against the wall and your existence hanging by a thread, that fury became your strength.

You fought with a passion that defied reason, every strike fueled by the tempest in your heart. The first beast, a towering creature with fangs like daggers, charged at you, and in a blur of motion, you dodged its claws, rolling beneath its massive body. Your frail hands found a sharp rock on the arena floor, and without hesitation, you drove it into the beast's exposed neck. It howled, thrashing wildly before collapsing in a heap at your feet. The crowd roared, but their voices faded into the background. You heard only the pounding of your heartbeat, the thrum of your blood in your veins.

More beasts followed, each one more vicious, more relentless than the last. But so were you. You had thought you were ready to surrender to death’s embrace, but now you realized that you weren’t finished yet. Not here. Not like this.

Another beast lunged at you, this one smaller but faster, its eyes burning with hunger. It swiped at you with razor-sharp claws, grazing your side, and you winced in pain. But the wound only fueled your rage. You spun, your wings—though weak—flaring out for balance as you twisted around the creature, grabbing its tail and yanking it to the ground. In one swift motion, you struck its head against the stone floor, the crack of bone reverberating through the arena.

The fight was brutal, chaotic, and unforgiving. Blood smeared your skin, both yours and theirs, as you fought with everything you had. The beasts came at you in waves, but you refused to fall. Each attack felt like a rebellion against the fate that had been forced upon you, against the gods who had watched silently as you suffered, and against the celestial dragons who believed they controlled your destiny.

One by one, the beasts fell, your body moving on instinct, driven by the sheer, fevered need to survive. You could feel your strength ebbing, your vision blurring at the edges, but the storm within you wouldn’t be silenced. Every punch, every strike, every dodge—it was an expression of your fury, your refusal to be consumed by the darkness that had plagued your life.

And then, silence.

The last beast crumbled to the ground, its body still as the dust settled around you. The crowd, once roaring, now stood in stunned silence, watching the broken, bloodied figure in the center of the ring. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, your arms trembling, but you were still standing. Against all odds, you had survived.

You had thought you were ready to leave this world, but now, as the final beast lay dead at your feet, you realized that your story wasn’t over. The fury that had raged within you had kept you alive, but it had also awakened something else—a desire to live, not just for the sake of survival, but for yourself.

And as you stood there, covered in blood and dust, with the celestial dragon watching from above, you knew that you had reclaimed something they could never take from you: your will to fight, your right to exist on your own terms.

In that moment, you were no longer their trophy, their symbol. You were your own.

In the end, the fight was never about winning. It was about reclaiming what little of yourself remained before the darkness took it all away.

As you are escorted away from the Dragon's estate, the weight of your family's disgrace settles over you like a shroud, thick and suffocating. Every step feels heavier than the last, as if the very earth beneath your feet rejects you. The Holy Land, once a beacon of unattainable dreams, where power and prestige shimmered like stars just beyond reach, now lies in ruins in your mind. It is no longer a place of hope or ambition—it has become a land of ashes and shadows, a place that has taken everything from you and given nothing in return.

The memories of your childhood, of the life you once imagined for yourself, are distant now. The Holy Land had promised much, but it only delivered heartache. It claimed your family, your innocence, your freedom—and now, with your release, it has left you with nothing but the remnants of a past you can no longer reclaim. Every whispered promise, every glint of power, was hollow, a gilded lie. And you have been left to carry the weight of its betrayal.

Your steps are slow, your body weak from years of confinement, and your wings, once symbols of grace, droop behind you, useless. You walk on, but your heart feels as though it drags on the ground behind you, weighed down by the knowledge that the life you once knew is gone forever. The dreams you once had, the aspirations your family clung to—they are nothing but dust now, scattered to the winds of a world that has cast you aside.

But even as you walk through the fading light, your future uncertain, one thing remains clear: there is no going back. The Holy Land, with all its splendor and cruelty, is behind you. The doors of the Dragon’s estate have closed, and the life of a living trophy, a symbol of the gods, is over. What lies ahead is unknown, vast and untamed, but it is yours to face. And though you walk with the weight of your family’s disgrace upon your shoulders, you walk free. You would do what was needed to attain that dream that festered in your soul.

There is no roadmap for what comes next, no guiding hand to lead you through the ruins of a world that has abandoned you. But as you take one step after another, heavy as they may be, you realize something: you are no longer bound by the expectations of others. For the first time, you belong to yourself. And though the path ahead is shrouded in uncertainty, it is, for the first time, your own, for you would take it with a breath of resistance and leave an air of freedom in your wake.

Chapter Text

Haki dreams are weird. It had been ages since Whitebeard had last made you succumb to his strength. Granted, you did break protocol and embarrass him, so his wrath was a little warranted. As the world around you twists and warps, pulling you into a swirling void. You realize you're not fully awake—but you’re also not in the realm of your own soul either, a place between that and something greater. The air is thick with a power that hums against your skin, something far greater than anything you've felt before. Haki, the intangible force of will, has wrapped itself around your mind and pulled you into this surreal vision.

Suddenly, a blaze erupts around you. The fire roars to life in a violent storm of red and gold, forming a towering pillar that stretches into the void above. But even with the fire raging around you, you feel no searing heat, no fear. Instead, you stand calm in the eye of the storm, your breath steady. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your arms—your skin glowing faintly, as if ignited from within. Scars that once marked your body now pulse with a soft, radiant light, like embers from a flame long forgotten. Each mark tells a story, and now, they seem to hum with a purpose beyond the battles that gave them to you.

The sound of whispering, echoing voices begin to swirl in the fire, overlapping and blending into one another, like a chorus of ancient tongues. The words are strange, yet familiar, as if they’ve always been there, waiting for you to hear them.

"As old as the first stars... older than the first sea... destined beyond tides..."

The voices speak of things lost to time and things not yet born. You can’t tell where one thought ends and another begins. Their words flow like a river of forgotten knowledge, sweeping you up in its current.

"...Be wary of time... when lightness and darkness become one..."

As they speak of an eclipse, you see it in the fire. The sky darkens as the sun and moon align, an omen suspended in the heavens. Night and day converging, their borders blurring until they are indistinguishable. The fire flares higher as the voices speak in unison, growing louder and more urgent.

"...A chosen path... A gods’ will..."

Despite the intensity, you remain still, calm amidst the chaos. Your scars continue to glow, brighter now, as if reacting to the words, as if they understand something you don’t. The weight of their meaning presses down on you, not like a burden, but like an invitation. An understanding seeps into your bones.

The voices fade into nothingness as the words "The path of the Gods chosen right will be open..." lingering in the air like smoke.

And then, silence. The fire still burns, but it no longer rages. It crackles softly, a beacon rather than a storm. You stand there, glowing softly in its light, knowing what lays beyond is yours by right.

As the fire around you begins to fade, the flames twist and coil like snakes, slowly unraveling into thin tendrils of ash and shadow. They drift upwards, disappearing into the darkness above, leaving you standing alone. The silence that follows is heavy, but it’s not oppressive—it feels like the calm after a storm. You inhale deeply, the air cool against your skin as the last remnants of the blazing pillar dissipate.

Your eyes adjust to your surroundings, and you realize you're no longer in the place between darkness and lightness– the haze. The charred ground beneath your feet is real, as is the ring of pillars surrounding you—the very same pillars you tore down not long ago. Their once imposing forms are now nothing more than crumbled stone, shattered ruins. These were the pillars inscribed with runes that had bound you, locking away your devil fruit, suppressing the power that surged beneath your skin. Now, only remnants of their power linger, cracks in the stone flickering faintly with fading light.

You step forward, each footfall echoing in the silence. And then you see it—looming before you, like a shadow rising out of the rubble.

Your devil fruit.

Once, it had been a small chick, fragile and unassuming. But now, it stands before you, massive and ominous, its shape larger and more foreboding than before. The air around it seems to hum with energy, a power that feels ancient and untamed, almost as if it has been waiting, growing in the shadows, for this very moment.

Your breath catches in your throat as the form shifts and stirs. From the ashes at its base, the little chick that once bloomed—small, delicate, and fragile—has transformed. It’s no longer the vulnerable creature you had cradled. Instead, a large bird emerges, its wings wide and proud, its feathers shimmering with a soft orange glow, like the embers of a dying fire. The tips of its feathers burn with a radiant red, brighter than anything you've seen before, as if the very flames that had surrounded you were now part of it.

The bird trills, a sound that resonates deep in your chest, not unlike the voices from your vision. It’s a call, a reminder of the power that has always been yours. Its eyes, glowing faintly, meet yours with an intensity that makes the ground beneath your feet feel unsteady.

Then, without warning, it spreads its wings and takes off into the sky. Its powerful form ascends swiftly, each stroke of its wings stirring the air like the rush of a storm. You watch, entranced, as the bird rises higher and higher, a beacon of fire against the darkening horizon, until it becomes a distant point of light.

You stand in the remnants of the ruined pillars, the silence pressing in once more. But this time, it feels different. The binding runes are broken, the dream has passed, and the power of your devil fruit has awakened, larger and more fearsome than ever before. The path ahead feels uncertain, yet the air buzzes with possibility.

“Holy fucking shit…” You mutter as you watch your awakened devil fruit fly through the air. You race through the brush a huge grin plastered on your face as you reach the beach that laid before the island. Your bird was huge and it glided through the air effortlessly as you stood amongst the sand. It rounded a couple times in the setting sun before it perched itself behind you, on the edge of the forest line. It ruffled its feathers and it stared at you.

Where you stood now, you had come to call it your soul's core. It was where you had come often during Shanks training trying to reach past the raging sea and into that void where your soul fire stood. As you looked back at your devil fruit you thought it was odd, that it hadn’t grown its usual soft brown feathers but that wasn’t high on the list of things you were worried about. You noticed that it never stopped looking at the sea in front of it. You could feel it assessing, thinking, but you didn’t know what of. You combed your hands through your hair and sighed. You tried waking but it was no use, he had knocked you out cold. So you just sat at the edge of the beach looking out into the horizon. Languid clouds drifted by and the sea was rather calm. 

The rising sun was slowly casting hues of reds and oranges across the sky. 

If you were going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future you would at least try to practice getting to that void that was below the sea. Standing up you looked back at the bird and then back to the calm seas. This sea was a challenge. You scowled and smiled widely as you began to undress. You wondered briefly if the clothes really mattered but you were already stripping down to your underwear. The bird spoke in a singular high pitch trill at you softly and you smiled even wider— at least it was talking to you now. It had been silent ever since you dropped down into this realm.

“I will tame this sea if it is the last thing I do…” you muttered quietly as you discarded the last of your clothes. You took a step forwards and the cold touch of the water set a tingling feeling up your spine. The water was different this time, you continued to step further into the icy waters and that same tingling feeling seeped into your skin and licked at your bones. It felt familiar, like it was the same feeling that coursed through your body when Whitebeard tried to calm your aching nerves, or the feeling of his command when he was done with your antics. It was like this sea was infused with his command.

“It can’t be…” This water was infused with Whitebeard's command, it tingled and forced your conscious to step out of the waters. Was this the effect of a command on the soul? It had to be…

But, if this was the effect of a command on the soul then why was it only allocated to the waters? Your mind was racing now. You had thought that this entire place was your soul, yet, haki commands were directly tied to one's soul. If that were to remain true…

“It is, isn't it?...” You spoke quietly as you stepped back. 

This raging sea, this turmoil of chaos and fury. It had to be your soul. Your fists balled as you screamed. It all made sense now, why you could never reach the void. This sea, this vastness of pure rage was your soul. You kicked and you thrashed at the sand. Your fury is mirroring itself within the raging sea before you. 

“Fucking hells below, I am such a fucking idiot!”  you screamed. The tension within the sea grew higher and higher with each scream. You were falling apart. It was such an easy thing to figure out how, how could you have been so stupid to miss it. 

The bird behind you chirped and cawed in response. Yet you paid it no mind.

You stepped out of the waters and back onto the sandy beach. You needed to calm down, it wasn’t going to help you, your rage. The bird behind you cawed once more as if to disagree.

You sighed deeply and pushed aside the anger and looked at the bird.

“What is it?” you asked it.

It ruffled its feathers again. You felt it within you, a sort of patience that wafted from the bird. It could not speak but you had been with this devil fruit for your entire life that you could essentially understand what it was saying.

“Patience isn’t really an option right now, we’re headed into war and I’m stuck here like a child in time out…” You grumbled. You  were drifting between emotions again. The happiness you felt while running through the brush had instantly dissipated into nothingness as you threw a tantrum at the sea. You needed to get a grip. The bird before you lowered its head and trilled at you again. For the first time you saw a glint of something more motherly in its gaze. 

The tension in your shoulders lifted as you sighed again. You walked up to your bird and placed your hand on its head. It was so warm to the touch. 

You needed to have faith that by whatever cruel joke the Gods decided to play on you that it was for something far greater than you could ever imagine. That your life was worth so much more than what you had originally thought. For fuck sakes, your haki, your devil fruit, your fucking will for seas sake was back. It was back with a fervent passion that it boiled in your body and filled you with a conviction that you hadn’t felt before. It was a conviction that despite it all you would see the end of the horizon, no matter the cost. 

You thought back to the first time you were hit with what you now realize was a weapon filled with the sedative that Caesar Clown had used on you, it had nulled your haki for a short period of time that it rendered you useless on the field long enough for you to get your ass beat. It didn’t help that those damn bastards also stuck a fucking sea-prism stone javaline pole through your shoulder to keep you from flying away. Your shoulder ached at the thought but that was ages ago. It was when you first encountered the change in warfare between pirate crews. Fuck even the marines could stand to use those weapons to achieve the chance of creating a world in their vision. It was then in those few moments on the field, far away from everyone else that you experienced what it was like to feel utterly hopeless for the first time since leaving Mary Geoise. It was from then on you devoted yourself, unconsciously, to feel freedom wherever you could. However, Whitebeard after seeing you ravaged on the field had grown worried, and riddled with guilt for letting his only daughter get hurt that he had  kept you on board the ship. Without care of your own desire to be free. Now, after the same, but exceptionally worse, incident with the clown you had consciously devoted yourself to find your freedom, despite the unwillingness of your captain. That was another hurdle you needed to get over. 

For a time you mind whirled with pathways, trying to figure out the best course of action, but you never were the best tactician. Always running headlong into the fray without worry; reckless. Maybe you should just take your faults in stride and carry them with the same conviction rather than trying to change them? Instead of seeing them as failures, to see them as a means to bolster your strength? Yeah, that was a good start. 

As you stood in front of your bird it leaned down and nudged your cheek carefully, it was like a hug. You smiled and you leaned into it softly. 

I am the counterpart, the peace, the wisdom of your soul .  A voice trilled as the devil fruit powers radiated from your bird– like an agreement made at first dawn. While you are the counterpart, the rage, and recklessness of your soul. You gasped softly as you felt the slow pulse of power radiate from your bird, like it too had its own source of haki– but it wasn’t haki, it was raw power, strong, and unyielding.

Together we are the lightness and darkness, life and death itself . You laughed as you tried to understand what it was saying. You wanted words to drift from your mouth as the bird stood tall before you. Yet, you came up short. 

“Together, we are the breath of resistance and the air of freedom.” You muttered softly as your bird flapped its wings, the sand wafting into the air with the gust of wind it generated. You didn’t need to understand, you just needed to trust that this would work. It felt right, so you went along with it.

You turned towards the sea once more and smiled wide, a hearty laugh escaping you, as you took in the rising sun. The words you spoke next bubbled within you as you stared at the dawn with a surge of power you haven’t felt before. This was your start. Your beginning. A new dawn. 

“I call to the heavens, the divine celestials of my time, hear me and bear witness as I show you the strength of your God's chosen right!” You yelled into the air as your bird took off with one push and glided across the sea. Under it the raging sea parted and you ran forwards towards your festering and fiery will that was locked below the sea. You couldn’t contain the smile that spread across your face as you rushed towards that void. Without fear you dropped in, the jagged and sharp edges melting away as you dived towards those flickering flames. It was like the dimensions themselves collapsed into nothingness as you fell? Floated? You drew close and once you touched those burning hot flames it was like your consciousness shifted with a steady pure and radiant ring of light that expanded outward and  calmed the raging sea above and blew away the clouds. Leaving behind a calm, flat sea above with a light blue sky that stretched on for ages. The flame that was locked below the surface of the sea seeped into your skin as you were pulled to the surface. You weren’t scared, or worried about where the flame had gone because you could feel it burning within you. 

You were the manifestation of your will. For once, it wasn’t an unattainable entity locked away.

You woke with a sharp gasp, your chest rising as if you'd been pulled from the depths of some unseen ocean. The infirmary around you slowly came into focus—the sterile smell of medicine, the quiet creaking of the ship beneath you. But something deeper stirred inside, a heat that pulsed through your veins, coiled and restless. It wasn’t just Haki—no, this was something far more profound. You could feel it, the sweltering power that had been locked away for so long. Alongside that sweltering power you could also feel your fruit and the slow lick of haki along your bones.

Before you could make sense of it, the infirmary door swung open with a crash. Marco stood in the doorway, his usually calm face stricken with shock, eyes wide and breath coming in short, uneven bursts. He didn’t speak, just stared at you as though he was seeing something that shouldn’t be possible. There was a swirling surety in his gaze as he stepped forward, each footfall slow and measured. 

“What is it?” you asked, your voice steady, even as your mind raced. You dangle your feet over the side of the medical bed, feeling the cold hardwood floors beneath your feet. Your heart was pounding, that was when you felt something tug within you softly, towards Marco.

Marco’s voice was barely a whisper, tender and trembling. “You’re back…”

“I never left,” you replied, frowning slightly, a tight laugh escaping you. Though subconsciously you understood. You understood that you werent the same anymore. That this heat, this sweltering urge within you was in the place where you had felt rage before. You tried to remember the dream before waking up, you tried, but it swiftly carried away by the slow rocking of the sea. 

His blue eyes, usually so composed, flickered with emotion as he moved closer. “Your fruit... it’s back.”

You blinked, the realization settling in like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. Marco cupped your face, his hands warm and trembling slightly as he gazed at you with an intensity that made the world seem small and quiet. He wasn’t just looking at you—he was searching, feeling the truth for himself, as though even now, he didn’t quite believe it.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice barely louder than the creaking of the ship.

“I think... it awoke,” you murmured, your voice distant as you looked into his eyes. The raw power, once stifled and bound, now burned beneath your skin, a living thing that pulsed with a rhythm of its own. "It feels much stronger now."

As you stared into Marco’s eyes, something tugged at you, a feeling unlike anything you’d ever known. It was soft, but strong—laced with a power that hummed with a shade of blue, almost familiar, like the flames that Marco himself wielded. The air between you thickened, charged with an energy that made your pulse race.

“What’s this feeling?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. It was as if the very power you wielded resonated with him, tugging at something deep inside.

Marco released you, stepping back, his breath steadying but his gaze still far away, as if something beyond you both had stirred. “We should head back up…” His voice trailed off, as though his mind was elsewhere, lost in the same unease that had gripped him when he entered the room.

You felt it too, that distant pull of something greater, something waiting on the horizon. The fire inside you was no longer a quiet, slumbering ember—it was awake, and with it, a raging passion that had only just begun to unfurl. Your start was here.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the strange, electrifying feeling crawling beneath your skin when you looked at Marco and nodded your head. The surge of power was hard to ignore, but you pushed it down, focusing instead on the present. You slipped off the medical bed, your feet hitting the cold floor with a soft thud.

"Yeah, you're right," you said quietly, following Marco out of the infirmary. It felt all too familiar—walking behind him, always just a step behind. There was comfort in it, but also a sense of inevitability, like your place had always been in his shadow. As you trailed him, thoughts of your brother gnawed at the edges of your mind. He was on board, last you’d heard, but the uncertainty twisted at your gut. You couldn’t help but wonder if Whitebeard had finally gotten what he wanted.

The thought made your Haki simmer, the familiar energy of your fruit swirling restlessly inside you. The flames that had come to life in your vision flickered, as though feeding off your unease. You quelled them with an ease you hadn’t had before. The sea is now under your control.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry,” Marco’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, a quiet coo meant to soothe. His tone was calm, but you could feel the weight behind his words, the tension that still lingered. He hadn’t looked back, and yet, it was as if he knew exactly where your mind had gone. 

You nodded, though the feeling didn’t fully leave. Things were changing — too quickly, in fact. You couldn’t shake the idea that this sudden shift in your power, the awakening of your fruit, was linked to something deeper. Was it your will? Your desire to start fresh, to claim a new future for yourself? It felt like your determination had taken root inside your fruit, forcing it to evolve alongside you.

"You sure?" you asked, forcing a small laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your own ears. "I haven’t been knocked out like that in a while."

Marco chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well... you never do things quietly. But your brother is still here. Whitebeard wasn’t impressed, but he didn’t kill him.”

Relief washed over you, and for the first time since you woke, you let out a real breath. The smile that stretched across your face was involuntary, the kind that came when a weight had been lifted from your chest. Your brother was alive—and part of the Revolutionary Army, no less. To think that that same little boy who coward behind you was out there still, and a part of something bigger no less. Though, your heart still ached for the boy who couldn’t help.

"He was the one who helped me when I was in Caesar’s lab," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. It was strange to speak of it now, that dark chapter of your life mere weeks ago, but it felt right somehow. The swirling energy of your fruit trilled softly within you, as though it were responding to your memories, to the thoughts of your brother and the fire that still burned within both of you. You remembered Shanks had told you when you were still on the Red Force; of a man who looked eerily similar to you. You had pushed it from your mind in hopes that you wouldn’t dwell on it, and now, it was all but confirmed for you.

Marco’s shoulders stiffened at your words, and he stopped walking. His posture told you everything—you didn’t need to see his face to know that the mention of Caesar struck a nerve. He turned slightly, eyes flickering with something unspoken, as if he could sense the power of your fruit radiating from you now, stronger and more alive than it had ever been. 

As you walked through the lower deck of the Moby Dick, the familiar creak of the ship beneath your feet grounded you, even though your mind was still clouded by the intensity of what you'd just experienced. You looked over at Marco, your thoughts still muddled from the dream-like realm you’d been trapped in. “How long was I out for?”

The question lingered in the air as you tried to make sense of the fragmented images—the sea of your soul, the void beneath, the sun rising and setting over what felt like hours of battle between yourself, your devil fruit, and the raging sea . You had touched something profound in that space, something raw and ancient, it coursed through you now in the form of your bolstered haki and awakened devil fruit.

“You’ve only been out for an hour,” Marco replied, his voice steady, though he didn’t turn around. "Pops is waiting for us in the war room. Every commander is there, along with the Red-Haired Pirates... and your brother, with his advisors."

His words struck like a lightning bolt, and you couldn’t help but tense. The war room. Whitebeard. Shanks. And Newt. You weren’t just stepping back into the fray—you were about to be tested, and you could feel it in the weight of Marco’s words. He hadn’t looked back, but the tension in his shoulders hadn’t left since you woke. Something hung between you, unspoken but heavy.

“You’re to make your case before him and everyone else,” Marco added. “Why should you let Newt join our fight?”

Your mind whirled as you tried to piece it all together. Make your case—the words sat heavily in your chest, as if the odds were already stacked against you. You scowled, crossing your arms as the frustration began to seep in. Was Pops testing your loyalty, your strength? It felt like he wanted you to fail, to stumble before the commanders and the other pirates, to fall short when it came to defending your brother.

“Such short notice…” you muttered under your breath, feeling the pressure closing in. Your head buzzed with thoughts on how you could even begin to present your case.

“I know,” Marco said softly, his tone gentler now. “But Shanks and Newt have already given their report on what happened to you in the facility. You just need to recount how you know him.”

How you knew him. Your brother. It seemed so obvious to you—Newt was the one who stitched you up in Caesar’s lab. He was the one who handed you off to Shanks, saving you from whatever nightmare you’d been dragged through. What more could there be to say? You were siblings, bound by blood and the same fire that raged within both of you.

But it wasn’t about the simple facts. Whitebeard was testing you, seeing how you’d navigate this. He was watching to see not only the knowledge you held, but the strength of your conviction, of your determination to stand by your brother’s side. You could feel it in your gut—this wasn’t just about Newt. It was about you. You were being challenged. So you solidified within yourself to give Whitebeard the best fucking defense you could.

You took a deep breath as you approached the war room, the weight of the coming conversation settling over you like a thick fog. Your thoughts swirled, but in the midst of the uncertainty, there was something burning deep within you—the same fire that had awakened your fruit. You would have to harness it, to prove not only to Whitebeard, but to yourself, that you were ready for whatever lay ahead.

Stepping up beside Marco, you square your shoulders. “I can do this.”

The tension hit you like a wave the moment you stepped into the room. The round table stretched before you, hollow in the center like an arena waiting for the next clash of wills. At the head of it sat Whitebeard, his massive frame practically vibrating with the weight of his presence. His gaze snapped to you, and you could feel the force of his Haki immediately—heavy, oppressive, the kind that made your bones tremble even as you stood tall. It was clear: he was pissed. More so, he was thinking, waiting, possibly hoping that you would come out of this with the same sense of conviction he saw in you all those years ago. The same conviction that was smothered by the celestial dragons and their cruel games.

The Whitebeard commanders lined either side of him, faces grim and unreadable. To your left, Shanks lounged in his chair, a calm contrast to the storm brewing around you. To your right, Newt sat with his advisors, his expression neutral but his eyes flicking toward you. Both Shanks and Newt nodded, subtle acknowledgments, but their presence was like a ticking clock—a reminder that this wasn’t just about you anymore. They were watching, and waiting.

Marco had slipped from your side and taken his place at Whitebeard’s right, the very picture of a proper first son and commander. He didn’t need to say anything—his stance alone conveyed his loyalty to both you and his father, but the unspoken message was clear: this was your battle to fight.

“Step to the center, child,” Whitebeard’s voice rumbled like thunder, shaking the air and rattling through your bones. The sheer weight of his command made the room feel smaller, his Haki wrapping around you like a vice. There was no denying it—he was challenging you, testing your resolve.

You gave a stiff nod, a formality more than anything, and stepped forward. The heat in your veins simmered, your fruit swirling under your skin, but you kept it in check.

Minutes passed, and you found yourself locked in a verbal battle with Whitebeard. What began as a calm exchange quickly escalated as the tension snapped. You had tried to keep your temper in check, to hold back the fire building inside you, but Whitebeard was relentless. His words were sharp, his accusations biting. He didn’t just question Newt’s worth—he doubted your judgment, your resolve. He pushed and prodded, testing you in the way only Whitebeard could, his towering presence demanding answers, demanding to see if you would crack.

Your voice rose, frustration boiling over as you shouted at him, your composure slipping just enough to reveal the fire you’d tried to suppress. “Newt’s information is worthy! He saved me! He’s not just some outsider—he’s my brother!” you barked, your words laced with emotion you hadn’t intended to show so freely.

Whitebeard didn’t flinch, his eyes hard as ever. “Blood alone isn’t enough. Trust must be earned, and right now, I see no reason to trust him. Or you.” His voice cut through the room like a blade, making the tension even thicker.

There it was. The test you’d known was coming. In the past, his words would have shattered you. You would have stormed out of the room, furious and reckless, desperate to prove yourself through action rather than words. You would have flown out into the open sky, letting your temper guide your fists, doing something impulsive just to make a point.

But not this time.

"Newt is not an enemy of the Whitebeard Pirates! He’s willing to cooperate with this alliance and share everything he’s learned about Blackbeard and his plan to erase Devil Fruit powers from the world," you said, your voice ringing with conviction.

But Whitebeard’s glare remained cold, unyielding. His next words hit you like a gut punch, cutting deeper than you expected. "You expect us to take the word of a man who comes from the same blood as you ." It wasn’t just a question of trust in Newt. No, this was a direct challenge to your loyalty, your worth as a whitebeard pirate. A shot at every failure you’d had, every mistake you’d made since joining the crew.

"You’ve shown me time and time again that you’re untrustworthy," Whitebeard continued, his voice heavy with disappointment. He lifted a hand, gesturing toward Newt, whose face had paled from the sheer pressure of Whitebeard’s Haki. "Where’s the proof that I can trust you? And by association, him ?"

You could feel the weight of Whitebeard’s Haki pressing on the room, an overwhelming force that made it hard to breathe. Newt wasn’t pushing back with his own Haki, that much was clear—he wasn’t trying to challenge Whitebeard head-on. But you? You couldn’t just stand there and let this accusation go unanswered.

"You don’t need proof!" Your voice rose, defiant, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the tension in the room shift as you spoke, your words cutting through the oppressive silence. "The fact is, it doesn’t matter what we perceive him to be. The men here, the ones willing to fight, came onto this ship without arms. They brought no means of escape. They came with nothing but a singular vessel, carrying only the men necessary to support our cause."

You gestured to Shanks, who was sitting calmly, listening but not intervening. “To put it plainly, Shanks was the one to meet with him. And Newt—he helped me when Shanks couldn’t. That’s an irrefutable fact.”

Your voice was loud, unwavering, echoing in the war room. For the first time in your life, you felt something surge inside you—a rush of excitement and nerves, a heady mix of determination and fire that burned brighter with every word you spoke. This was it. This was the moment you would stand your ground, even against Whitebeard himself.

Whitebeard’s gaze shifted to Shanks, his eyes narrowing, searching for any hint of deception. But Shanks, ever the calm in a storm, only smiled, nodding in confirmation of what you’d said. He gave you a brief look of approval, a silent acknowledgment that you were standing on solid ground.

But Whitebeard was unmoved. His expression didn’t soften, his judgment still heavy and unrelenting. You could see something dark flicker behind his eyes—guilt, perhaps, or the weight of his own past mistakes. He wasn’t just questioning you or Newt. He was questioning himself, his own judgment, and the consequences of keeping you on board when you should have been allowed to grow from your mistakes.

"You’ve been reckless before," Whitebeard rumbled, his voice lowering. "Why should this time be any different? You speak of trust, but trust isn’t given freely—it’s earned."

You straightened, meeting his gaze head-on, the fire inside you refusing to be snuffed out. "I’m not asking for blind trust. I’m asking for a chance. A chance to show you that this time, I won’t let you down. Newt won’t let you down."

The silence that followed was deafening, every eye in the room locked on Whitebeard, waiting for his verdict. His Haki still pressed against you like a wave crashing against the shore, but you stood firm, refusing to bend. You had buckled to a raging sea before, you would never do the same again.

Whitebeard’s voice boomed through the war room, his words as fierce as the crashing of waves against jagged rocks. "I will not be swayed by the voice of a child!" His Haki roared, shaking the air around you, filling the room with his unyielding will. "For too long, you’ve allowed yourself to tread a thin line on my crew. You are my daughter, and I will not watch you succumb to your own recklessness."

It cut deep, the weight of his words hitting harder than any physical blow. You knew what this was—this wasn’t just about Newt or the alliance. It was fear. Pops was terrified of losing you, just as he’d lost so many before. His Haki radiated with that fear, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like chains. This was a father’s fear, the guilt that weighed on him. You could see it in the way he stared at you, his jaw set, his eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger.

But you weren’t backing down. Not now. Not when everything was on the line.

"I am a Whitebeard pirate," you shouted, your voice ringing with defiance, "and I have dedicated my heart to live freely among my family! I will die for this cause if it’s the last thing I do! Newt is my family, and if we use his men in the fight ahead, our victory will be undeniable!" You stood tall, your chest heaving with the fire surging through you. "For the sake of this world, for the sake of my freedom and my family’s, I will advocate for his strategic value!"

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then, one of the commanders spoke up, his voice cautious but firm. "Whitebeard, their words are worth considering. We don’t know what power Blackbeard holds. If their capture with Caesar is any indication of the threats we face, it would be wise to listen to their brother."

Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed, his voice like thunder again as he silenced the commander. "Quiet. As captain of the Whitebeard Pirates, I swore a duty to protect my family from any danger that may come upon them! I will not be swayed by the voice of a child."

A child. The word stung, but you wouldn’t let it tear you down. You were no longer that reckless kid who sought validation through chaos. You had faced your demons, conquered the sea within your soul, and stood stronger because of it. You weren’t going to let him dismiss you so easily.

"I am no longer a child!" you roared back, stepping closer, your Haki flaring in response to his. "I know I fucked up! I know I was careless while serving under you! But you need to listen to me. Newt is a valuable asset for our fight—for victory!"

Your blood pounded in your ears, your heart racing with a wild, unstoppable energy. This was it. The moment that would set you on a new path.

You took a deep breath, your voice steady and resolute. "Let this be the action that sets me forward on a new path. I will challenge anything—anyone—that stands in my way of freedom. My freedom belongs with my brother, with my family, and with myself. I will do anything in my power to attain that freedom."

You locked eyes with Whitebeard, unflinching, daring him to see you as more than the reckless child he once knew. You weren’t asking for permission anymore. You were demanding it. Demanding that he see you for who you had become.

For a moment, the room was silent, the air thick with tension. Whitebeard’s gaze bore into you, fierce and unrelenting. But you didn’t waver. This was your fight, your stand, and you would not yield.

Finally, Whitebeard sighed, the fire in his eyes flickering as he leaned back in his chair. "Very well," he rumbled, his voice quieter now but still heavy with authority. "You’ve made your stand. Let’s see if you can back it up."

As the door to the war room burst open and the pirate from Marco's division shouted, "The allies have responded, we are headed to war!" your heart jumped in your chest. The tension that had been simmering exploded into action. Marco was already on his feet, taking the paper from the pirate's hands. His eyes scanned the letter, and then he nodded toward Whitebeard, confirming the inevitable.

Whitebeard’s voice boomed with command, “Man your posts, we leave now.” The room stirred immediately, every commander springing into action. This was it. The fight was on, and you had stood your ground. Despite the odds, despite Whitebeard’s resistance, you’d earned your place in this battle. 

As the room emptied, Shanks approached you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His familiar smile was warm but knowing, his gaze filled with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. “You’ve certainly outgrown that woman I knew before. I’ll see you out on the field,” he said softly before walking away, leaving you with the weight of his words and the promise of the fight ahead.

Then Newt stepped forward, his presence a sudden anchor to the flood of emotions rushing through you. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, it felt surreal. It had been so long since you’d last seen him—the brother you’d left behind all those years ago. The boy you remembered was now a man, wearing the weight of his responsibilities like armor, but there were still traces of that child in his face, the soft roundness of his cheeks, a shadow of the past.

“We have lots to talk about,” Newt said, his voice steady, but you could sense the unspoken emotions between the two of you. His words were heavy with both affection and the burdens of the life he had led without you. It felt almost unreal to see him here, alive and standing before you, when you’d once thought you’d lost him forever.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah, we do," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. There were so many questions swirling in your mind, but now wasn’t the time for them. The battlefield loomed ahead, and everything else had to be put on hold.

But the promise lingered. After this war, after the dust settled, you would have that conversation. You’d make up for the lost time. For now, though, you had a war to fight—together.

Newt’s eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through the hard mask he wore. "We’ll survive this," he said, as much for himself as for you. And though you couldn’t be sure, you nodded again, your resolve hardening. You had to believe that.

Chapter Text

The tension between you and Newt was thick, like the oppressive heat of the sun just before a storm breaks. The room was dimly lit, shadows playing across the walls as the ship rocked gently with the ocean’s rhythm. You could feel the pulse of your devil fruit deep inside, its energy rippling like the sea, responding to the turmoil you couldn’t fully suppress. 

Newt crossed his arms, his expression serious, but his eyes carried a weight that only you could understand. The years you had spent apart, the choices and scars you both carried—each one was a wave, crashing against the shores of the present. You felt the heat of your own frustration flare, then ebb, like the tide pulling back before another surge.

“You think you’re the only one who wants to make things right?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but the edge in it was clear. “You think you’re the only one who’s willing to put everything on the line?”

Newt’s jaw clenched, his shoulders stiffening as he stared at you. “I know you’re not afraid, but that doesn’t mean you understand what’s at stake. This isn’t just about us, it’s about everyone out there. And if I have to sacrifice everything—”

“Don’t presume to tell me what I do and do not know. I know above everyone else what Blackbeard and Caesar Clown plan on doing to this world.” You growled out as you stared at Newt. He let out an aggravated sigh, his hands running through his shoulder length hair. 

“You don’t know the full story of what Blackbeard was planning. I do. I was one of his trusted subordinates up until recently. I was the one that was with him for years!” He ground out through gritted teeth. It was simple, the two of you had both gotten the brunt force of your fathers terrible temper. Both ticking time bombs ready to explode if one more person talked back to them. 

“There isn’t more to know! What I know now is enough, we have our allies, we have our strength.”

“But I have his most prized possession!”

You stood still at his words. What in the world did Newt hold? Your fruit flickered and flared within you as if it could sense the power that resided in Newt’s possession.

“What possession?”

“I have something that he was going to use in his first plan. Something he had always dreamed of getting his hands on. One of the most powerful logia type devil fruits.” Newt placed his hands on the table in front of him. His barrel of ale clunking with the power of his hit. There was a tension in his shoulders that reminded you of your father. A type of tension that only swarmed you if you were unsure of your path. A tension you grew too comfortable with in the past. You paused in your place, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t… Why would you?” You gaped as you looked at your brother. There was only ever one brief moment in your time as a Whitebeard pirate where Whitebeard regaled to you the description of a logia type devil fruit that could have the potential to out rank all other fruits in this world. It filled you with a sense of dread then, and now… Your brother had it?

“He was so close to attaining it for himself. He would have eaten it and started his conquest for domination. I was lucky enough to be able to pull a few strings to underhand him without leaving any trace of who stole it. I needed to stall for time, so I did what I had to do.” Newt’s shoulders were rigid. Burdened with memories of whatever hell he went to to get his hands on one of the most powerful devil fruits known to this world. 

Your mind was racing. One thought after the other, none of it making sense.

“Why didn’t you eat it?” You asked suddenly. It tumbled from your mouth faster than you could think.

“I thought about it. The potential of being able to defeat him without causing a whole war, it was tempting, but then I remembered you.” Your mouth dried up. The memory of your father forcing you to eat something you didn’t understand. The power from it that was supposed to grant your family freedom. Newt couldn’t do it.

“Then what are you going to do with it?” You asked slowly. Your eyes never left his form as he looked over the papers scattering the table.

“To present it to Blackbeard, to draw him out into the open. The temptation will drive him mad. Make him hasty in his plans, they’ll be openings.” Newt was quiet, his eyes wavering with an uncertainty.

“You think we’re gonna get out of this shitty fucking mess if you taunt him with that fruit?!” You asked incredulously. You guffawed, hands on your waist as you looked to the ceiling.  “Seas Newt, what the hell is wrong with you?” Newt went rigid and his ears went pink as he scowled. “What was I supposed to think, you come out here, out of nowhere! I thought you were dead. I thought that the dragons killed you. Now?! Now you want my help after decades, you never wanted my help a day in your life! This is the only plan I knew that was backed by a surety that meant I would get Blackbeard's head before everyone died” He retaliated. You stopped laughing abruptly and stared him directly in the eyes, fist slamming into the table. “What did you just say to me? What do you mean I didn’t want your help?!” There it was, the tide that ripped open a torrent of waves that you had been trying to suppress. “There were years, decades,” you scoffed, “where I wanted your help! Every day, for the past two decades I wanted your help!” You rolled your eyes and covered your face, “That’s all I ever wanted from you Newt, was a little bit of help. Yet, you were too scared to even raise your voice to mom and dad.” You yelled, eyes threatening to spill with blurry focus. Newt's face dropped. It was childish, foolish, reckless. Your spine stiffened and you couldn’t help but see yourself in your brother. His plan was insane. It wouldn’t work. How could it? The dark dark fruit was useless to Blackbeard now, why would he want it if he had the power to erase devil fruits now?

“We were children!” He yelled back.

The two of you stood in silence for a while. Newt contemplated all of his thoughts in an instant before he spoke. “Before, Before you were sent off to Mary Geoise, I felt like I was in an inescapable void. They scared me, as much as they scared you. That scared little boy turned to rage and violence when you left. For a time I thought that that’s who I was, who I was supposed to be. For a while I did whatever they told me to do. I swindled money from upper class nobles, from dragons no less, I even killed a couple of people. I did what I could to stay safe, to keep our family safe. Every night I worried about you and what was happening behind those walls. I was worried while everyone else was content to forget about you.” He paused, hands shaking, “Then during a party on an island an envoy of a celestial dragon showed up and I was supposed to meet them, but on my way down to the pier I saw a boy, he was around my age and he looked like he had been hurt badly. There was an explosion, he was the one on the ship that the celestial dragon bombed. Everything that  happened after went by so quickly, that’s when I made my escape with that little boy named Sabo. He and I, we’re like brothers, he helped me through the mess I was wading in. We grew up with the revolutionaries and I grew to turn that rage into something more powerful. Dragon saw it, Sabo saw it too, That’s when I became a double spy. I was tasked to infiltrate Blackbeard’s ranks and get all the information I could about him and what his plans were. Years of working under him and reporting it back to Dragon. Then,” He took another pause, “When I heard Caesar speak about you. I knew I had to come find you, to try and help you. To try to atone for what I couldn’t do when they took you.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared at your brother. It hurt that he considered Sabo, a stranger to you, his brother. You never allowed yourself to feel that way about anyone on Whitebeard's ship. Too much baggage to deal with. How was Newt able to allow it within himself to feel that way? He lost his sibling too, why wasn’t he affected the same way you were? Tears pricked at your eyes as you looked down. 

You took a breath in and looked to the ceiling. You needed air. This room was drowning you. 

“I need to think.” Without another word you turned to leave the room. 

You walked along the empty halls of the Scipio Flame. The ship was rather dull, with colors reminiscent of the revolutionaries. There was a feeling of familiarity among the treasures stored in empty rooms and pictures among the walls— Your brother in nearly every single one of them. How many photos were you in? It was like he had adorned this ship with everything he didn’t have growing up.

You had allowed yourself to grow so complacent in your grief that you had barely let yourself live in the present with your crew. Always in your room, too consumed in chores, or running away at the earliest opportunity. For all the work you had done over the last several days it still wasn’t enough. You still had a well of trauma to shift through, every emotional dysregulation to disassemble, and every thought to reshape. 

I can’t do it on my own…

You plopped yourself down at the head of the ship. As you looked out into the horizon you felt the breeze and sea cool your face. For a time you sat there, waiting, thinking, hoping that once this was all over you could somehow make it out to be a different person. For all your courage, and false confidence after awakening your fruit, you were still a child riddled with troubles. You could hide it from others, but you couldn’t hide it from yourself.

A sense of summer warmth flecked with azure and gold washed over you before a thud sound behind you. 

“Little bird, you have that look in your eyes again…” You turned to see Marco, eyes soft and body lax, as if he hadn’t had a single worry in his very soul.

“What look are you talking about, I have several.” You replied as you curled up into yourself. You were too overwhelmed with what is, what was, and what will be. Too many things to fix, and you were only one person.

“The same look that usually shows itself before you fly away.” He muttered as he sat beside you.

“Even with my awakened fruit I can’t fly, and if I run I’ll drown.” You said softly. It was true. Despite you awakening your fruit, it had yet to manifest itself. You tried, but it wouldn’t budge. 

It was then that you felt a tugging sensation in your gut. It pulled you towards Marco, to his warmth. You shied away from this feeling and buried yourself deeper into your knees.

“Tell me what you need, little bird.” Marco spoke again, he was steady, voice filled with a certainty that you couldn’t quite place. 

“I’m not a little bird…” You grumbled.

“Then quit acting like one.” He countered.

You looked up at him in slight surprise. Then you scowled softly and huffed in annoyance.

One day, or day one?…

“There’s too much happening.” You muttered softly as you looked back out into the horizon. It was like the tugging sensation made it easier to speak your thoughts to him. That he could be the safest place where you could dismantle yourself completely and rebuild.

“I need you to be more specific, birdie.” He spoke softly as he leaned forwards, elbows steady on his knees as he looked out into the darkened horizon too. You looked at his back and noted how the purple shirt he always wore swayed gently in the breeze. You couldn’t see his face, but his whole body seemed to ooze a sort of relief that you so desperately needed.

“Seeing Newt for one thing feels like a damn anchor on my chest. It feels nice to finally see him, but there’s too much between us that it's overwhelming to even think about.” You spoke as if there wasn’t any blockage. It was just you and Marco. 

“That’s one thing, what’s another?” He pressed on softly.

Your tongue got caught in your throat as your mind supplied all the different challenges you were facing right now. It screamed code red and jumbled itself about in your mind. You wanted to speak, to spill it all out but it was like it was jammed.

“Just one small thing, one at a time, it could be anything.” He urged again, his voice strangely softly and caring for where you were at the moment.

“I dislike mushrooms…” You finally tumbled out after a moment of silence. It sounded stupid but it was something small that you had kept to yourself for years because after a time you felt like it was too late to mention.

“You dislike mushrooms?” Marco couldn't help but chuckle as he looked back at you. Your ears red as you bury your face into your arms.

“Yeah, hate em’ actually…” you muttered through your arms. “Never told Thatch cause he looked so eager to present my first meal to me way back when.”

Marco’s smile dropped ever so slightly. All this time you had been eating mushrooms just because you were too scared to tell Thatch you disliked them. He never knew. He wondered what else you may have endured because you were unsure whether to tell someone or keep it to yourself.

“Well, for your sake, I love mushrooms so give any to me after this, okay?” Marco offered as he looked back out into the horizon. 

You hummed softly as you smiled. 

The silence that settled between the two of you was soft, and sweet. Usually you hated silence, too many thoughts running around in your head. The silence let them stir into chaos. However, you noticed now that with Marco, your thoughts were still, quiet even. As if he were the force that quelled a summer hurricane, bringing forth a warmth and calmness to the open ocean.

“So, what happened between you and your brother?” Marco finally asked.

“It seems that we share the same reckless attitude.” You spoke softly. To which Marco chuckled again. The smile lines around his face catching the light of the moon. Your chest aches and thrums with a familiar heat— something you always tried to hide from. This time, you let it simmer, warm you up, make you feel something other than regret, grief, and loneliness.

“I see it's more than just a personality trait, but a genetic disposition.” Marco noted, eyes still trained on the horizon.

“I suppose you're right. It feels weird, y’know, finally seeing someone that looks like me, acts like me, has the same blood as me.” You continued on. “Having an actual family. It’s like I’ve always known there was more of me out there, I was just never lucky enough to experience it until now. I want to hold onto this feeling.” There has always been a hole in your chest. A hole you never quite understood until now. Seeing Newt, it filled that hole.

“I get what you're saying.” Marco confided in you. “I was an only child growing up, however, when I joined Pops this crew grew attached to me and now whenever we’re separated I feel that loss. Like something is supposed to be there but isn’t.” He continued. “I feel it every time and I don’t think it's something we get used to. It’s something we shouldn’t ever get used to because in that feeling lies the truth of why we stay, why we fight, and yearn for one another.”

You hummed again and nodded your head. “And what is that?” You asked quietly, never looking away from Marco.

He turned back and looked at you, his cobalt eyes shining with something so foreign yet recognizable.

“It’s love.”

You stared at Marco for a long period before turning away. It resonated within you. Warmed you up and then left you feeling undeniably and inextricably sad. For you had denied this for so long. You had denied yourself of receiving and giving love. 

Your life had been so crazy and tangled with loss, betrayal and regret that you had no place to feel love, not for anyone else, not for the life you’ve lived, or for yourself. 

“I see…” You offered quietly.

It was then a pair of footsteps came from behind. It was Newt.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He said softly as he looked between you and Marco. He was awkward, but that wasn’t what initially caught your eye. In his hand was a box, with a lock and key. “First commander Marco the Phoenix, before we head into battle I’d like to offer this as a gift to your crew.” Newt held the box out, it was engraved with markings made of gold. 

“What for?” Marco asked as he got up and turned to your brother. Newt looked at you and offered a small smile. Though you two had been separated for decades you couldn’t deny the warmth that swarmed your chest as you smiled back.

“For protecting and taking care of my sister when I couldn't.” Newt said, a hint of grief lacing his words. 

Marco nodded his head and graciously took the intricate box from Newt. Marco looked down to you and smiled before walking off. He would take the gift back to Pops. You made a mental note to ask what it was later, after battle.

The air around the ships crackled with anticipation as they sailed side by side, cutting through the sea with a determination that mirrored the faces of their crews. The Moby Dick, with its familiar white whale head, led the charge, its massive hull cutting through the waves with an ease that belied its age. To the left, the Red Force sailed alongside, its scarlet sails billowing in the wind like a banner of defiance. And there, to the right, was the Scipio Flame—Newt’s vessel, with its sleek, shadowy form and a symbol of the Revolutionary Army emblazoned on its side. Each ship bore its own purpose, but together, they were united in a singular, urgent mission.

Newt stood beside you on the deck of the Scipio Flame, leaning over the rail as the wind whipped through his hair. He had been quieter since your conversation, but you could see the tension in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the wood. He glanced sideways at you, and a rare, small smile tugged at his lips. It was almost like a glimpse of the old Newt, the one you used to know before the world grew sharp edges.

“Five more ships should be arriving soon, all under my command. They’re smaller, but fast—good for skirmishes and support,” he confided, his voice just loud enough to carry over the roar of the waves. “They’ll meet us in the next few hours. I thought... I thought you’d want to know we’re not alone in this.”

You nodded, a feeling of relief mingling with the unyielding knot of anxiety in your chest. The alliance was coming together, piece by piece, but the enormity of what you were about to face loomed like a dark shadow over the horizon. Blackbeard’s territory lay ahead—a place where danger was as constant as the sea itself.

“Thanks, Newt,” you replied, turning to look at him. “We’ll need all the help we can get if we’re going to stand a chance against Blackbeard. Knowing that we’ve got additional support... It means something. It means a lot.”

He met your gaze, his expression softening as if he understood the unspoken weight of your words. The two of you had lost so much, fought so hard to carve out your places in this chaotic world. And now, despite everything that had come between you, you were standing side by side once more.

“Yeah,” he murmured, looking out at the horizon where the first light of dawn would break through the gathering clouds in a few short hours, painting the sky in shades of oranges and reds. “Let’s just hope it’s enough.”

You took in a sharp breath, letting the weight of Newt’s words settle around you. Six thousand strong—an impressive force, especially considering the mix of seasoned pirates and hardened revolutionary fighters that would be fighting alongside you. But even with those numbers, the odds were still steep. Blackbeard’s forces outnumbered yours by a thousand, and those who served under him weren’t just ordinary pirates. They were ruthless, ambitious, and backed by some of the deadliest fighters the New World had to offer.

“Six thousand to seven thousand,” you mused, turning those numbers over in your mind. It wasn’t just about the headcount—it was about the strength of the people behind those numbers, the will to fight even when the outcome looked uncertain. You glanced sideways at Newt, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. “It sounds like a good way to make history, doesn’t it?”

Newt chuckled lightly, but his eyes remained serious, scanning the waves as if he could already see the battle unfolding before him. “Yeah, history or a bloodbath,” he replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But I believe in this. I believe in you.”

You studied his expression, the lines of his face that seemed older and sharper than you remembered, yet still holding traces of the boy you once knew. There was a resolve in him now, a strength tempered by the years and the hardships he’d faced. It was strange to hear him speak so confidently, so decisively about a battle that could change the fate of both of your lives—and the lives of countless others.

“You really think we can do this?” you asked, searching his gaze for any sign of doubt. “You think we can take down Blackbeard and come out on the other side?”

Newt’s expression softened, and for a moment, it felt like time had rewound, back to when you’d both been scared kids with faint dreams in a terrible reality. “I do,” he said, his voice gentle yet unwavering. “But we’re not the same people we were back then. We’ve both fought through hell and come out stronger for it. And I know you’ve been through a lot, but... you’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the emotion rise in your chest, but you pushed it back down with a steadying breath. This wasn’t the time to lose yourself in the past. There was too much at stake, too many people counting on you to be strong. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough if that strength means anything,” you replied, turning your gaze back to the horizon. “But I won’t let him take anything else from us. Not while I still have breath in my body.”

Newt nodded, and for a moment, a shared understanding passed between you. You might have taken different paths, but those roads had led you both here—to this fight, to this moment, standing side by side once more. It was a fragile hope, but it was enough to ignite the fire within you, the same fire that burned in your devil fruit’s power, urging you forward.

There was a beat of silence as the two of you stood at the helm of the Scipio Flame. It was comfortable, but you could sense the wavering haki beside you. Newt then turned abruptly to you, he was about to speak. Opening and closing his mouth, like a fish out of water, gasping for air, at anything to ease the pain in his mouth. All those years left unspoken just hanging in the open like the moon that slowly rose into the air. It was full, with a halo surrounding its edges. You furrowed your brow and turned to look at him. Your gaze was soft, but also expectant, you never did like people staring at you. 

“Did you know that solar eclipses are rare, so rare that they only ever occur every eight-hundred to nine-hundred years? The last solar eclipse would have been around when Joyboy was last sailing among these seas. With the void century we have no real record of what happened when the solar eclipse took place but from previous historical records, before the void century, we know that magical things can happen.” Newt had blurted out

Newt’s words hung in the air, laden with mystery and an unexpected intensity that left you momentarily speechless. His gaze had shifted, looking not at you but out over the sea as if seeing beyond the horizon into a world hidden by time. You hadn’t expected him to bring up something like the void century or Joyboy, let alone hint at the cosmic implications of a solar eclipse.

“Where is this coming from?” you finally asked, your voice cautious, as if afraid of shattering the sudden reverie that had taken over him.

He looked back at you, eyes gleaming with a strange, uncharacteristic excitement. “I... I came across some old records in a lab while out on a mission for Blackbeard. Documents, maps, charts—This person wasn’t only researching basic science, but something deeper. It was like they were obsessed with these ancient cycles, the kind that only nature itself seems to remember.” He took a breath, his expression thoughtful. “I didn’t think much of it then. But now, with everything we’re heading into—Blackbeard’s rise, the war we’re walking into... I can’t shake the feeling that we’re a part of something much bigger.”

His words sent a chill through you, your thoughts racing. You’d always known that there was something ancient, something massive at play in this world. But a solar eclipse connected to the void century, to Joyboy? That was almost too fantastical to believe.

“You’re saying that… this war, everything we’re fighting for—it’s connected to something that’s been happening since Joyboy’s time?” you asked, struggling to wrap your mind around it.

“Possibly,” Newt replied, his voice low. “Or at least, I think it’s a reminder. A sign that history’s waiting to repeat itself. We’ve lost so much knowledge, so many truths to the void century, but it’s as if the world itself is trying to remind us of what’s been hidden. And maybe,” he added, looking back at you with a fierce determination, “we’re meant to play a role in it, to see it through.”

For a moment, the reality of what he was saying settled heavily between you. The enormity of what lay ahead, not just the impending battle but the echoes of history itself, made the moment feel monumental.

Newt’s words settled over you like the weight of a thousand seas, a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension tugging at your thoughts. Since reuniting with him you could gauge that he was level-headed, practical. Yet here he was, staring out into the horizon, looking to the sky for assurance in a way that felt unfamiliar yet undeniably sincere.

“Since when did you become a prophet?” you muttered, though there was no bite in your words. Instead, there was a lingering curiosity, a silent desire to know if perhaps he saw something you couldn’t, something hidden in the tides of the future. In the place that laid beyond the line that connected the sky and sea. Joyboy? No one was ever brave enough to talk about him so openly and at depth. It was always superficial, a tale to tell children and at parties. Even yourself, you thought about Joyboy from time to time, but never truly acknowledged that maybe his story, his life, was true in any way. If you did, you would have had hope where you shouldn’t have had any. Hope made people determined, dangerous even and dragons didn’t like it when their prized possessions got too riled up.

“Maybe I don’t know as much as I think I do,” he admitted, his gaze softening. “But it’s more than that. Something tells me this solar eclipse, this moment—it’s part of a cycle. And we’re here at the heart of it, right when the world’s getting ready to change again.”

You studied his expression in the fading moonlight, feeling his tension mirrored within you. This wasn’t just about your fight with Blackbeard; there was something much larger, a web of history, destiny, and old power wrapping around you both. It made your fruit sing and thrum with power.

“Alright then, if this eclipse has meaning, if Joyboy and his story meant something all those centuries ago, then maybe… maybe we’re meant to mean something, too.” You smiled, a slight edge of defiance to it. “And if it’s fate itself we’re supposed to face, I’ll gladly meet it on the battlefield.” 

Newt looked at you with a mixture of pride and resolve, his expression set with the fire of your shared resolve. “Then let’s make sure when history looks back on us, it remembers the power of our fight.” 

You both fell into a silence that was almost comfortable, letting the rhythmic sound of the waves fill the space between you. Above, the Scipio Flame’s sails caught the last lingering rays of the moon light, and when you looked to your left you caught a glimpse of Shanks at the helm of the Red Force, He nodded toward you and Newt with a knowing smile. On the Moby Dick, you could see the silhouette of Whitebeard standing tall, his presence a reminder of the legacy and the burden you all carried.

As the moon's rays of light touched the water, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope ignite in your chest. This alliance—these ships and the people on board—might just be the key to turning the tide against the darkness ahead. But deep down, you knew that no matter how many allies you gathered, the battle to come would demand everything you had. It would test your strength, your resolve, and the fragile trust you had rebuilt with your brother.

As the wind whipped past, carrying the salty scent of the sea, you tightened your grip on the railing and glanced at the vessels around you—your allies, your crew, and your family. The dawn light caught the glint of the Moby Dick’s white figurehead, and you felt a surge of determination flare in your chest.

“Then let’s go,” you said firmly. “Let’s show Blackbeard what happens when you corner a Whitebeard pirate—and her brother.”

Newt smirked, his confidence infectious. “To the end, sis. To the end.”

Chapter Text

You sent a flying fist to your brothers side for the thirteenth time during the second round of training. You were tasked to not only try to use your conquerors haki, but to also try to summon you devil fruit powers. You were growing more agitated with each punch you threw at Newt. Working with your haki was a challenge to say the least. Your mind was split between dodging your brothers attacks, and maintaining a steady flow of haki. You had been on the defensive ever since the beginning of the second round. The first round, to Marco’s instruction, was purely warming up. To you, it wasn’t, your brother seemed to have wanted to go at it ever since you two stepped onto the mat. 
He had told you he wanted to see how far your training had come ever since you became a Whitebeard Pirate. Saying something about needing to verify that ten years on the Moby actually was worth the trouble of losing his sister for years. You had scowled at Newt because you thought that everything was fine when he handed off the gift to Marco the night prior.
Swiveling on your heel you turned to your left, your weakest side, and brought up your right leg into a kick that would have hit his shoulder were it not for his forearms blocking the blow.
“Your left it weak…” he huffed as he threw your leg away and in quick succession brought his right knee up into your left side. You were stumbling and when his hit came in contact with your left side your left knee buckled under the weight of his hit and you fell.
“Tell me something I don’t know…” you grumbled out as you sat on your ass rubbing your side. “You always exploit your opponents weaknesses in a disgraceful manner?” You asked as you got back up onto your feet.
“Not only is that my job, but its the art of fighting. To always gain the upper hand when you can.” Newt rubbed his wrists and his eye twitched. It was such a insignificant movement but you saw it. “Did you not learn this while training with the commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates?” He asked again as he turned to look pointedly at Marco. Marco shrugged and looked to you.
“I’ve been off the field for the better half of my pirating career…” you muttered again, more to yourself than to Newt but he heard.
“What do you mean?” He looked at your curiously as he stretched his legs. You rubbed the back of your neck and looked to the sky.
“Shit went down in a fight nearly six years ago now and I was left boat bound.” That was all the information that you were willing to give to him.
“You mean you haven’t seen a real fight in six years?!” Newt had the wherewithals in him to at least looked astonished. He gave another incredulous look to Marco who didn’t so much as look at Newt, his focus solely on you. “I’m assuming it was Whitebeard who kept you off the fields?” Newt pressed on. You hummed, still looking up at the sky. Your heart, no it was your fear of confrontation, that yearned for the sky. To be free, and not deal with it. You had come to terms with the idea long ago. You had guesses as to why Whitebeard had kept you boat bound for so long, but you never thought of asking him directly.
“They’ve been training consistently, their skills are up to par with our standards.” Marco butted in as he too stood up from his place near the railing.
“Right, the same training that got them kidnapped in the first place. Good fucking job I suppose.” Newt threw a spat in Marco’s direction. Your eyes whipped down to see Newt scowling at Marco— something within you then snapped and in a flurry of smoke and ash you were in front of your brother pointing at him.
“Don’t direct your anger at him.” Your voice was steady, sharp even, as you glared at your brother. It was in the same instance your haki decided to function properly and Newt staggered back a foot.
“What resulted from that fight doesn’t matter. All that matters now is that I am allowed to fight now.” You rebutted as your poked your brothers chest. Your eyes wavered ever so slightly as you stood your ground. While you may have gone toe to toe with Whitebeard, you always buckled under his gaze. Your resolve always too weak. Yet now? Something was different, you weren’t as afraid of confronting what was necessary to you. 
Newt scoffed again but stepped back. He was thinking, the lines on his face deepened as he looked to the flooring of the Scipio Flame.
“I see now…” he spoke softly as he looked back up at you. “Y’know you can’t keep moving forward like this.” He mused again, this time looking at you with a sense of conviction you had yet to see in his young eyes.
You rolled your eyes not wanting to get into it. “It doesn’t matter, life doesn’t stop.”
“It does matter. Have you even stopped to think about what had happened to you?” Newts voice was hard. It made you stop and suck in a small breath.
“There’s no point in thinking about it.” You muttered out, breath hot and face teeming with a new wave of heat.
“How long before it drags you under though?” Newt pressed on. “I can take a very educated guess just from what I’ve seen so far. You’ve been babied ever since you became a Whitebeard Pirate. The first wound you get and your taken off of the field without any sight into whether or not you’ll be let back on. To make things worse, whatever happened to you when you left me made you feel unworthy of trying to reinforce your boundaries. To ask for the freedom you deserve.”
Your fists clenched themselves as you let out a shaky breath. 
Temper… Keep your Temper. You thought as you opened your eyes.
“I’m done talking.” Without another word you walked off. Walking away you couldn’t help but look forlornly at the floor for your brother was absolutely right. Some deeper sense of you knew, but you still always tried to move away from it, act like it never exsisted. Yet, everything that has been happening was bringing it all to the surface. You thought you had gotten through the turmoil, quelled the raging sea within you, yet your hold habit of running away and pretending it never happened still lingered.

You ended up on The Moby later that evening. Marco after having a long winded conversation with your brother ended up coming and knocking on your door. His gaze was steady, but you could sometimes sense the uneasy haki that radiated from him in small short bursts. Whatever was said made him feel equally as guilty. 
Your body was still trying to repair itself after the serum was injected into you. It was like an faulty switch with your haki, sometimes it worked, other times it didn’t and rarely it combusted like it did with your brother. You just hoped that everything would work well enough when it was time.
Sitting in the galley with the rest of the Whitebeard commanders your eyes grazed over the many familiar faces. Thatch had left his division in charge of dinner. You wondered where he was but you didn’t really feel like asking. It wasn’t unusual of him to extend his training sessions for the entire day. The man could be a pent up mess sometimes and with the Moby being out at sea for an extended period of time it was almost expected of him.
The words from earlier in the morning were still eating away at you. You knew you had been babied ever since the incident nearly six years ago. However, you also didn’t know what true freedom felt like. From being forced into catering to the Celestial Dragons to tiptoeing your way around the Moby for years you had only ever once gotten a chance at freedom and it was soon swiftly taken from you. You sighed and laid your head on the table.
“You alright?” Ace asked from beside you. You grumbled in response and stared at him.
“Just peachy.”
“I heard you never finished training with your brother, wanna tell me what went down?” he prodded gently as he too laid his head on the table. Your faces parallel to one another.
You thought about it for a second and opted to just not entertain it. Then you remember what both Marco and Newt had said to you. You closed your eyes and let yourself feel it all for once.
Ace’s face softened as he saw the look in your eyes when you opened them. They were distance, filled with apprehension and fear.
“He said that if I keep moving forwards, and if I keep on going its going to drown me.” You spoke softly. 
Ace sat there and listened intently as you took in another breath of air.
“Basically said I needed to stop acting like my past hasn’t happened and that you guys need to stop baby-ing me…” you paused and smiled a little bit “which I do agree with needs to stop.”
Ace chuckled softly as he crossed his arms onto the table and looked out into the sea of Whitebeard pirates in front of him.
“If you do want my two cents, I think that our pasts do shape who we are, but it shouldn’t define our future. Take a look at my ugly childhood. I grew up with two crazy ass brothers in the woods with a bunch of badits and grew up under the shadow of my father. Life was tough, and shitty, and I wished that during my fights it would finally end. Then, I met this rowdy crew and decided that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than just the dark and shitty past I grew up in.” Ace spoke softly, his eyes never leaving the mass of people in front of him. You looked at his side profile and hummed softly. You never bothered to ask about his past, never even entertained the thought that maybe he too came from a difficult childhood. In all the years you spent on the Moby your relationships were superficial yet they still held onto you. You were just to scared of accepting it to see just how much they held onto you.
“I also do think its time for you to step into the light and stop hiding on the Moby. I think that if you ask everyone else here too they’ll say the exact same thing.” Ace added on as he turned and looked at you, his auburn eyes glowing with intensity.
“Pops thought otherwise up until recently…” You muttered out.
“I know it had been difficult, the hole in your room is a testament to the struggle he has put you through.” Ace snickered as he leaned in and nudged your shoulder. You smiled and looked out into the sea of people all chattering away.
Just then Thatch had come into the galley, all sweaty and grinning like a mad man.
“I see he’s finished with training.” You spoke as you lifted your head off of the table. Ace too sat up straighter and looked to the man who remarkably had his hair down for once.
“The hairstyle in a new look too.” He laughed as he chugged his ale.
Behind Thatch followed Marco and Whitebeard. You wondered where they had been, seems they were with Thatch all this time. Whitebeard looked worse for wear, but you summed it down to getting in a few hours of much needed training before we entered into Blackbeards territory. Marco walked up to you and smiled as Thatch followed suit.
“How was training?” You asked as you greeted them both.
“Training was rather extensive, this guy insisted on training way too hard and both pops and I had to deal with  his struggles.” Marco commented as he hopped over the table and tool the empty seat between  you and Izou.
“Why were you struggling?” You asked Thatch as you felt the heat of Marcos legs next to yours. You tried not to think of how close he was and focused on the smug look on Thatch’s face.
“I’m trying out this new fighting style,” he said as he pulled up another chair from one of the lower tables.
“A new training style right before a battle? Isn’t that a little too ambitious considering we only have a few days at best?” You asked again, your interest was piqued but it seemed that Thatch wasn’t going to give into the specifics of his training.
“You’ll see when I get on the field.” He raised his brows to you and then combed the hair out of his face.
“Did someone kill Thatch and replace him with a double? Cause he certainly isn’t acting the same…” You spoke wryly as you looked between the other commanders.

The evening had waned on and stars had taken precedence of the night sky. After dinner you talked a little while longer with the commander's and then excused yourself to your own room. You needed rest and to tally all of the things that were slowly changing within you. As you laid in sea of blankets and pillows you tossed and turned. You were tired but sleep was evading your every attempt.
While you may have quelled the sea within you, you hadn’t actually confronted a lot of the things that weighed you down. Not to mention the whole devil fruit awakening things you had going on. Marco too was also someone that popped up into your mind as you looked at the ceiling. He had been hanging closely to you ever since your return. Maybe even too close because your mind while filled with chaos was still anxious around him, the same anxiousness that made your heart stutter and your face warm. The same anxiousness that you tried to never dwell on because for one he was twice your age, and the first commander of Whitebeard. Rubbing your face you rolled onto your side and closed your eyes for the millionth time that night and tried to sleep.
It worked and you slowly drifted off into oblivion. For a time you were weightless and caressed by darkness until a flash of light crossed your vision. It warped itself around you and then exploded into sound and light. It was a nightmare. Familiar as all the others yet this time you were more apart of it. You could feel your feet on the dirt and the air blowing around your face as you danced across the muddied field. It had been a few months since this last nightmare. It was the memories of the catalyst that had Whitebeard ground you to the boat.
As you moved you moved further and further away from the fray of your brothers. Into the chaos of the enemy. You were separated in the fight against pirates, finally surrounded you were exhausted. Filled with determination to prove your worth you stayed and tried to fight them all at once. You had only a few years worth of training under your belt. You were sure you could handle them, but when they hit you with that sea prism stone harpoon you were rendered useless in the mass of enemy pirates. It was pierced through your left shoulder and had buried itself into the ground. You were skewered-- Defenseless and weak you looked around franticly and saw that there was nobody around. You were all alone.
Your mind knew now just how stupid and reckless you had been. Too caught up in the traction you had gained ever since leaving the slave house. Finding your own strength and being trusted enough on the field. All this accumulated itself into a reckless behavior that left you stranded. In the nightmare your brain tried to find ways to free yourself as the pirates drew closer to you. Backed by a history of the future, you wanted to get out and call for help. You needed help. Yet, this was the version of you that didn’t need help, didn’t need the aid of others to conquer enemies. You thought you could do it all alone and while you yelled in your head for aid the scowl on your face made the pirates snicker and howl with joy for they had finally taken down a Whitebeard pirate. The same Whitebeard pirate that had already taken down a full platoon.
Gasping awake you sat straight up in bed, a layer of sweat covering your body as your shoulder ached once again. The same tugging sensation filled your chest and drew your legs from under the covers and hit cold air. You got up and out of bed and exited your room. The memories of that incident still replaying in your mind mixed with fragments of ash and smoke as you walked down the dark hallway. You hands grazed over hardwood walls, the padding of your feel the only sound as you searched. Pulled along by the tugging it wasn’t long before you found yourself at the door the tugging sensation brought you to. It was like he was waiting for you, upon stopping, he opened the door and looked down at you worriedly.
“What happened?” Marco asked softly, sleep still lingering in his eyes as he opened his door fully.
Never having sought out reassurance after a nightmare you stood before Marco breathing slightly ragged and eyes searching— for what, you didn’t know.
“I, I uh, had a nightmare…” you whispered as you stood before him, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
Marco tilted his head slightly and nodded before stepping out of the way and allowing you into his room. You stepped into his room and stopped in the space between his desk and bed. You looked around the room and saw small trinkets from past adventures and tapestries layered over one another on the walls. Some you could remember from places you’ve been while others were from places before you had joined.
Marco sat on his bed and patted a spot for you to join him. You swallowed nervously but sat beside him anyways.
“What was the dream about?” Marco asked quietly as he looked at you.
Your heart raced in your chest as the tugging sensation in your chest grew to be too much. You were overwhelmed and a part of you wanted to leave, to never come back and pretend that you weren’t here right now. Standing up quickly you started walking to the door.
“Nevermind, I’m just gonna—“ Before you could finish your sentence Marco had grabbed onto your wrist and and halted your escape.
“Stay, don’t leave.” He said gently as he stood and walked up to you, still holding your wrist. “Just one small thing…” he muttered as he stood before you. You recalled the conversation from a few nights ago and it quelled a small part of your racing mind and heart. Just one small thing. 
“I guess I’m nervous about repeating the same mistake.” You spoke again as you looked down to where he held your hand. He hummed softly as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand.
“Making mistakes is how we grow.” He offered quietly.
“The mistakes I’ve made… I nearly died…” Maybe because I wanted to. You offered to yourself. Your eyes closed and you looked to the side of the room.
“Yet, you’re still here. It may not be because of your own strength, but that’s okay.” He said as he pulled your face to meet his.
“I feel like I’m nothing if I can’t do it on my own.”
“You are never nothing.” Marco said.
“How can you be so sure?” You asked quietly. Your very being was built upon doing it by yourself. Regaining your families status, making sure the dragons were happy, proving yourself on the first mission after years of being boat bound. You were under pressure to do it all by yourself.
“Because you are something to me, to this family, to your brother.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled down at you. The tugging sensation growing again. You gave into it and pulled yourself close to him wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. He was hesitant at first but steadily wrapped his own arms around you keeping you close.
“I know you’re working hard, and I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.” He said as his hand ran through your hair gently. Your haki awoke suddenly and you felt the gentle waves wash over you and you buried your face into his chest further.
“Can you be my lighthouse when the storm makes it dark?” You asked softly. Everything about him urged you to be better, to seek out help when you needed it. The glass ceilings that once loomed over you seemed easier to shatter whenever he was around now. 
“I can be.” His voice rumbled gently as his hold on you tightened ever so slightly.

Chapter Text

The morning sun for the better half of the trip had always come up with a vibrate red hue. It masked the sky in  a fade of red to midnight blue as the light kept the darkness at bay. You had risen early, crawling out of your bed, the faint warmth that lingered on your left hand drew the nightmares away without so much of a whisper of retaliation. It was baffling really how it could all be so simple. Thatch, yet again, was below deck in the sparring room, training. You hadn’t worked up the will to go and see him, to ask if you could spar with him. Your nerves were to wracked with energy that you were kind of just stagnant. At intermittent times of the day you focused on either summoning your devil fruit to any meaningful capacity or trying to gather some semblance of haki that radiated further than an inch from your chest. It was driving you mad because what the hell were you supposed to do when the fighting started? You wouldn’t stay on the ship and let everyone else take the wheel. You had to be there, to do something.
You had been able to use your haki when you were going up against Whitebeard but now? To hell with it all. What was the difference between then and now? You had the will power and conviction, did you not? Maybe it was for all the wrong reasons?
Grumbling to yourself you shook your head and started to ascend to the crows nest. Blenheim was off evening watch and now it was your turn. There was a sort of comfort in taking to old chores before the battle but it still didn’t shake the energy within your muscles.
“She’s a bit windy today, I left the blanket in the nest.” Blenheim stated dully with a pat to your shoulder before walking inside and getting some much needed rest. You nodded your head and hummed as you grabbed onto the ladder that was bolted to the post. As you ascended you felt the chill sweep across your skin, raising goosebumps. Despite wearing a knitted sweater already you still felt the chill. Silently you thanks Blenheim for leaving you the blanket. Your morning watch would be for the next few hours until lunch.

The hours carried on and your watch was less than extraordinary. You mostly watched the coming and goings of captains and commanders jump from ship to ship to deliver necessities. Marco you hadn’t seen all morning. It made you sad a little considering the previous night was so intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. After hugging him you had briefly thought about staying the rest of the evening, mostly to talk to him so you could forget about what lay ahead, but mostly to satisfy the need to be close to him. You didn’t know what it was, but the tugging sensation in your chest seemed to grow every day, urging you to be closer to him than what was considered appropriate. You wanted to sit by him, talk to him more, and maybe even illicit a smile or two— the same one that showed his dimples and smile lines. You had always wanted that, but had always shoved those feelings away and covered them with a disdaining sort of feeling. Linking his image to something that made you ill. It was false though, fake, and untrue. Because the more you thought about it the more deeply this thread dug into you. A part of you feared that it was more than just superficial admiration but maybe a deep seeded and maybe even ancient kind of love. The more the tugging lingered the clearer the image became and it frightened you because what was love if not betrayal? Sure Marco had said love makes you feel  empty when things are so chaotic, but it was the reason why he stays, fights and yearns for those around him. If emptiness was apart of love, and if all things in life come with an equal half, then fullness would be apart of that equation, would it not? Maybe you could explore that path after everything else passes.  
Am I ready to give and receive love? You wondered to yourself as you snuggled deeper into the blanket, the faintest hints of Blenheim’s scent lingering deep in the threads.
The rays of sun shifted in your vision and ahead you saw specks on the horizon. Sitting up straighter you grabbed the spyglass and looked to see if they were enemy for foe. It was hard to see with the rays of light blocking your vision but when familiar sails appeared on the horizon you started ringing the bell signaling incoming boats.
“Ships inbound on the Starboard side!” you yelled to the people lingering on the deck below.
Fossa, with Cigar in mouth yelled back up, “en’me er’ fr’nd?”
You scowled down at him barely able to comprehend what he had just said but answered anyways. You noted the bags under his eyes as he lingered around on deck talking lightly, or as light as he could for a man of his size, with his division members. There was a firm set to his brow, tension and concentration. 
“Allies…” You peered back out the spyglass and then looked back down to Fossa “About twenty or so!”
Fossa laughed, the tension in his face lifting for only a second, before he ordered his men to begin preparation to board the captains of each ship. Newts five ships were amongst the twenty, as he promised earlier. Things were moving along steadily, by the evening they would be entering Blackbeard’s territory, just beyond his boarders laid an island, his island, that would be where they would make landfall. Before that Whitebeard had ordered his subordinate captains to rally on The Moby Dick to finalize the war plans. Then, a crew member, you didn’t know him but you thought he was apart of Haruta’s division, popped his head over the trap door and smiled at you.
“Here to relieve you of your watch.” He then climbed into the nest and rested his scabbard on the edge as you rounded the nest and climbed down the ladder. Before you left you stopped and looked at him.
“Thank you, um…” You paused cause you didn’t know his name. A sense of shame washed over you. You had made it a point to not remember the majority of names on the ship, save for the few that really mattered to hierarchy. You wanted to change that now.
“It’s Donovan, but people call me Rhino” He smiled again and you nodded your head committing the name to memory. You paused again, curious as to why people called him Rhino. It seemed he saw the question in your eyes and laughed heartily.
“Long story, but on a mission I took out a giant aggressive rhino, now I have its horn in my room. Damn thing is enormous, but its one of my greatest accomplishments.” He laughed as his eyes grew distant with memories, “Well, apart from the day I joined this crew.” He added on with a sheepish grin. You nodded your head and smiled. It was then a small echo reverberated in your mind— Just one small thing. Then, your smile deepened.

Scurrying down the ladder you aided Fossa’s division in preparing for the extra souls that would be boarding The Moby Dick soon. You unfurled ropes and prepped them to be thrown when the allied ships came closer. Most Captains didn’t need gang planks to cross, nor was it really possible when each ship kept moving, however most Captains were proficient enough in haki usage that they could make the jump from each boat. The ropes were an anchor, necessary in keeping the boats close enough so that each captain could make the jump.
When the main deck was secured and cleaned up of any extra unnecessary items you moved below deck, to the mess hall. Its regular setup was changed to a more open concept to allow for seamless conversation and movement. While most tables were stacked to the edges of the mess hall others were grouped together to make the center tables for the food when it was ready. Thatch, having completed his training for the day was swiftly moving around the kitchen, which could be seen through the pass-through on the far end of the wall, opposite to the mess hall entrance. Parts of Thatch’s division was tidying up the mess hall keeping the place rather simple in terms of decorations. The four pillars that were placed as support beans within the mess hall were clear of any pictures, notes, or otherwise inappropriate markings. The dais, which sat to the right of the mess hall entrance, where you and the Commanders usually sat during meal times was prepped with one chair, meant for the Captain of The Whitebeard Pirates— Whitebeard himself.
You quickly moved between the crew members on the floor and towards the pass-through where you clasped onto the stone table and yelled out Thatch’s name.
“What is it?” he yelled back, his air was in a messy bun, not the regular pompadour he usually sported. You wanted to question what was with his new look but opted to ask later. 
“Need any help here in the kitchen?” You asked as you tapped your fingers on the stone table. Most of Thatch’s division was in this room working about, seamlessly moving amongst each other, like a singular entity— crazy. 
“I’ve got it under control here, just get ready.” He yelled back as he continued to work, integrating back into the chaos of the kitchen seamlessly. You hummed but hurried back out of the mess hall.
As you walked below deck, following the maze of hallways to the main deck your haki decided to function properly and it was here you felt an array of unrecognizable haki signatures. They were mellow, no callous intent weaved through their signatures. You guessed that the subordinate Captains were finally boarding the ship. You breathed deeply and let out an exhale as many division members passed by you.
It wasn’t often when subordinate Captains and Allies came together like this. Matter of fact, this was only your second time witnessing such an event. It made you skin feel tacky and cold— you were nervous. Yet, unlike last time you were going to make a conscious effort to mingle— or something like that anyways.

Lunch is a whirlwind of names, faces, and stories—tales spun with reckless laughter and the kind of bravado only seasoned captains can muster. The air is thick with sea-salt and nostalgia as old alliances rekindle over spilled drinks and hearty meals. You nod along, offering your own memories where you can, though the captains’ adventures feel like legends etched into the ocean itself. Yours were rather dull and not as enthusiastic as the others. Where they told legends you told half-committed bedtime stories. There was no comparing the two really, because you were sure that despite being a pirate for nearly two decades you were still just some run of the mill Scallywag.
As you walked around the packed room you stopped to talk to Captains, some you only knew through letters to Whitebeard while others were new to you. Most though had a solid connection with Whitebeard in some way or another. While most accounted being a crew members in the early days others were mere happenstance, having formed an alliance based on mutual need. However, as you continued through the mess hall more than once someone would mention your bounty—or lack thereof. “Haven’t seen your face on a new poster in a while,” one captain remarks. Brew is his name. You stood in front of him and his first mate, Claggor. You noted that he has thick dark brown hair, dried from weeks of sea-salt, adorned with a white headband and steely gray eyes. He’s half-jesting but with a pointed edge that settles uncomfortably in your chest. The truth gnaws at you—you’ve been ship-bound for years, stuck in the familiar rhythm of The Moby Dick while the world outside moves on without you.
Beneath the sting of their words burns an ember of determination. It fizzes and sparks among the words sent your way, growing hotter with each passive comment as you moved between Captain to Captain. The idea of earning that next bounty—of proving your worth again—lodges itself firmly in your mind. You’re not content to be forgotten, another pirate lost to time. Not when you’re surrounded by legends still carving their names into history.
Still, a shadow looms at the edge of your thoughts. A gathering this grand, with so many infamous names under one flag—it can’t have escaped the Marines' watchful eyes. You wonder why they haven’t come crashing down on the fleet yet.
Through the sea of heads your gaze keeps drifting toward the center of it all—Whitebeard himself. His booming laughter rolls like thunder, grounding the sociability in something powerful, something eternal. His presence is immovable, a towering figure carved from the unyielding will of the sea itself. You can see the respect etched into every shared glance, every raised tankard. Taking a  break from talking for a moment you hum to yourself lightly. A distraction to temper the swelling ache in your chest. He was always in the corner of your eye. Moving about as you did. Being the First Commander made his duty clear, keep and maintain alliances whenever possible. Whitebeard needed these men as much as they needed him. It was up to Marco to rally and bolster these alliances so they wouldn’t rust and fall apart.
As you ate a small portion of food your eyes scanned the crowd. You noted how you only really talked to about half of the Captains and their first mates, you were already feel exhausted however, there was always more to be done. You would make it your mission to talk to the other half before they left this eve. It’s the first time you’ve seen so many Captains united, their differences cast aside for something greater. For a fleeting moment, your heart skips a beat. This—this is the heart of true camaraderie. Bonds forged through shared trials, through battles fought and victories earned. A family not by blood, but by choice and loyalty.
After finishing your plate you set it in the bin by the doors leading to the kitchen and walk back out into the chaos of the mess hall. You walked until you met a familiar face, Shanks, Beckman was nearby talking to Blamenco— their hearty and earnest laughs echoing above them. 
“Hey, there they are!” Shanks spoke animatedly as he turned his full attention towards you. Beckman turned from Balmenco and smiled and waved.
“How are you?” You asked as you stood by him, your eyes still scanning the sea of heads. Shanks laughed and draped his arm around you pulling you in.
“I’ve been great, make sure to tell the fourth division commander he did a great job setting up!” Shanks chuckled as he messed your hair up a little bit. You sunk into your shoulders and winced but laughed as you shoved into his side.
“Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell him. Might take me awhile because he trains so often now.” You joked as you took a jug of ale from the tables in the middle of the mess hall.
“I hear, Haruta came by earlier talking about Thatch nonstop.” Shanks let out a hearty laugh as his grip around you tightened. “Kid was so bouncy and talkative that I could barely get a word in edge wise!” You wondered if Shanks knew he was hitting your shoulder or not. You shimmied out of his grasp just as Marco sauntered over, hands crossed over his chest and a faint unfamiliar glimmer in his eye that made him look almost uneasy.
“Marco!” Shanks cheered as he stepped away from you and walked towards the blond haired commander. “I’ll offer you another chance to join my crew.” The red-haired captain of the Red Force grinned wide as Marco took a step back, a grimace setting into his features.
“I’ve gotta tell the fourth division to start restricting your alcohol…” Marco drawled as he took a step towards you. You let out a soft giggle leaning closer to Marco, a hand placing itself onto his forearm as you watched Shanks pout and babble on about how Marco didn’t need to do anything. Beckman then came up and slung an arm over his Captains shoulders.
“Don’t worry Marco, I’ll keep an eye on him from here on out.” Beckman spoke clearly, a grimace set to his face as he pulled his Captain into a tight, yet aggressive, hug. Subduing him from making any more regrettable decisions. Your hold on Marco tightened as you let out another laugh as Shanks whined and complained to Beckman.
Marco let out an aggravated sigh as Beckman and Shanks melded into the sea of bodies, leaving you two in each others company.
“How much do you supposed hes had?” you asked as you looked towards Marco, still unaware of the hand you had on him.
“Too much, let’s just hope he sobers up before the meeting later.” Marco drawled as he pulled a tired smirk across his face. Your Haki then suddenly awoke and you felt a dizzying amount of haki signatures within your immediate space and your grip turned into a vice hold as you shifted closer to Marco— his haki was familiar, recognizable and safe.
“What’s wrong?” Marco asked, voice dipping to a lower tone, not wanting to draw attention.
“There’s a lot of radiating haki signatures…” you muttered as you let go of Marco, your own haki finally seizing control of the situation and forming a barrier to keep the vast amounts of haki from rendering you immobile. 
“My haki, it’s coming back more frequently, that’s a good sign I suppose.” You drawled as you combed your fingers through your hair in a nervous gesture, eyes scanned the sea of bodies, unaware. Marco, who only hummed looked between the spot where you had held onto him and where your hand now hung by your side.
“That’s good.” He said firmly after a second of composing his discombobulated thoughts that heated him up from the inside and sent his Phoenix into a state of nagging want. His tone held an edge to it, something akin to disappointment, but with a thread of blooming hope. If you healed from the serum then that meant your Devil fruit abilities would have the same chance. 
It wasn’t long before Marco walked off to greet other subordinate captains. You too decided to take your leave and find more people to talk to. While other Whitebeard commanders come and go, drifting between clusters of familiar faces scattered throughout the mess hall, Marco is the only one who keeps returning to you. It’s such a small thing, barely noticeable in the ebb and flow of conversation, but you can’t help catching it—like the distant call of the sea or the lick of a flame in your core drawing your attention.
He never lingers long, just enough to make his presence known. A brush of fabric against your arm, warm and fleeting, leaves a tingle on your skin that lingers far longer than it should. He settles at your side with an air of ease, sharp eyes quietly assessing the room even while his focus seems pinned on you.
When louder captains try to talk over you, Marco’s cool, pointed remarks cut through the din with practiced precision, forcing them to pause and acknowledge your words. He never makes a show of it—just enough to remind them who you are, without stealing the moment from you.
You know he sees through your act—the way you keep yourself busy, doing far more than what was even expected. Usually, you prefer the background, quiet and guarded, slipping away when the crowd becomes too much. But now…
The warmth radiating from his steady presence leaves your skin prickling with a strange, electric energy. It coils beneath your ribs, making your breath hitch in ways you can’t quite suppress. The air outside is brisk and biting, coming in through the mess hall windows that were left open to try and temper the building heat from so many bodies. Your cheeks feel entirely too warm, flushed with something you don’t really want to name at the moment.
It’s not long after lunch when the subordinate captains, the commanders, and Newt are summoned to the war room aboard The Moby Dick. The sun begins its slow descent, casting deep orange streaks across the endless sea. With bellies full and minds sharpened by shared purpose, the gathered leaders turn their attention to the battle ahead.

Whitebeard commands the room with effortless authority, his voice steady and resonant like the rolling tide. You can feel the tension thrumming through the room—a shared anticipation vibrating beneath every word spoken, every determined glance exchanged. The war to come will be brutal, but in that moment, you were beginning to understand something deeper: battles like these aren’t just fought with strength—they’re won through trust, loyalty, and unbreakable bonds. Whitebeard stands at the head of the circular round table, commanding attention with the effortless gravity of a force of nature. His voice rumbles out, deep and steady, like the unyielding ocean, laying out battle plans with sharp precision. Each word is weighed, forged through decades of experience and tempered by an indomitable will. You stand at the back, arms crossed, half-listening while memories of your fiery exchange with Whitebeard surge unbidden. His words, fierce but tempered by respect, still echo in your mind—a reminder that your place here isn’t just given; it has to be earned. Memories claw their way to the surface—your last fiery confrontation with him, words flung like unsheathed blades, raw and heated. He hadn’t flinched. He’d stood there, resolute, meeting your counter with a response forged in the crucible of countless storms. Your fingers twitch at the memory. He’d seen something in you, still does—potential, maybe, or stubborn defiance too bold to snuff out. Whatever it was, it had earned you enough respect to stand in the war room with the rest. Not gifted, not granted—earned.
However that maybe you still needed to prove yourself when the war started. To show that you could follow orders, that your reckless behavior wouldn’t be the factor between life and death. You needed to do that much over the next several hours to fully prove to Whitebeard that you were just as capable of a warrior as everyone else. He considers you a daughter, his only daughter, and with that there is a well of worry that drives his every actions, his every decision, over you. He has reached that much of a conclusion. Now, it was your turn, to prove to him that you didn’t need to be worried over, that you were strong enough, that you were smart enough, to forge your own path forwards. This, this was a beginning to a freedom you had longed for for so long. When held captive in the darkest of cages you dreamed of that sort of freedom. It was so close. You could almost taste it.
Just do your part, then, you will be just as free as Marco…you peered across the room where Marco stood. For the longest time you had always begrudged him for the freedom he always seemed to exude. He was able to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. The only thing you had over looked before was his unwavering respect that he had for his Captain, for Whitebeard, and Whitebeard returned that favor back to him. Let him do as he pleased, even allowed him the prestigious title of First Commander. 
His voice draws you back to the present. He’s finishing his orders, sharp-eyed and unyielding. The crew shifts into action, galvanized by his unspoken promise of protection and purpose. You uncross your arms, spine straightening without conscious thought. You’re still here, still standing. Your gaze sweeps across the assembly. You see determination etched into weathered faces, resolve tempered by countless battles fought and survived. There is no room for hesitation here—only action, swift and decisive. The war room hums with restrained intensity. Maps and marked routes cover the table, edges curled from countless strategizing sessions. The scent of salt and aged parchment mingles in the air, thick with the weight of impending battle. The plan comes together with practiced efficiency. You stand by your brothers first mate, Finnigan— a stout man with a gnarly scar stretching across from left temple to the tip of his crooked nose. Newt’s fleet of five ships sails in a tight formation toward the beach, their sails taut and ready. Their mission is clear: engage in brutal sea skirmishes and cut off any retreat by the Blackbeard Pirates. The rest—including Whitebeard himself, you, and the remaining commanders—will position on the plateau above the cliff. From there, you will deliver the decisive blow, pinning the enemy between sheer rock and unrelenting force.
The room thrums with energy, the air thick with purpose. You stand near the wide-open window, where the ocean stretches endlessly below, its waves crashing against the hull in relentless rhythm—an echo of the pulse beating in your chest. Behind you, voices murmur in low, urgent tones. Orders are exchanged, tactics refined. A glance over your shoulder reveals Whitebeard, his towering form a living bastion of strength and resolve. His gaze sweeps the room, steady and sharp, a commander forged in fire and tempered by years of hard-won experience. His presence alone grounds the rising tension, as immovable as the cliffs themselves. You meet his eyes for a fleeting moment. There’s no need for words—trust runs deeper than the sea itself. You belong here, forged not by blood but by shared purpose, by loyalty tempered through fire and storm. Around you, the commanders stand ready—scarred, resolute, and fierce. Each one a pillar of unyielding will, driven not by greed or glory but by something far stronger: the bonds that hold this crew together. A shiver runs down your spine—not from fear, but from the undeniable certainty of what’s to come. This is more than war. It’s survival. It’s family. As the meeting adjourns, you linger a moment longer, eyes fixed on the crashing waves below. The sea knows no mercy, no compromise—but neither do you.

With the sun dipping below the horizon, casting the sky in deep hues of amber and violet, The Moby Dick felt quieter—more open. The distant sound of waves lapping against the hull steadied your racing heartbeat, offering a moment of peace after what felt like one of the most exhausting days of your life aboard the ship. The distant sounds of allied ships drowned out the racing thoughts within your head as you stared out into the endless horizon. You noted the seamlessness of the horizon in front of you. The sea mirrored the sky in a way you could never quite comprehend. It was like they were one in the same— deep, unsettling, and vast. Yet, despite how unnerving the two could be, the sea still glittered just as the stars still shined brightly.
You let out a gentle sigh as you held out your hands to the horizon. Not grasping for something physical, but for something more intangible. Your life was out there, it had to be. You just needed to keep going, heal and shed any part of you that held you back.
“By sea and sky…” you ushered out quietly as your gaze softened on the silver lining that separated the sea from the sky, that was endless hope. The kind you could hold on to. “I will be free.” You muttered more quietly. A quiet prayer to the endless night.
Today had demanded more from you than you ever anticipated—listening, learning, engaging. Every conversation pulled at your reserves, forcing you into the spotlight you’d always preferred to avoid. Yet, through it all, Marco had been there—his presence steady, grounding.
He never announced himself, never made a show of standing at your side, but you noticed every time. He became an unspoken shield, intercepting questions before they overwhelmed you, deflecting curious glances with a few sharp words or a pointed look that brokered no argument. Whether he realized it or not, he’d carved out a space where you could breathe. Where you could ground yourself among those who were considered legends of the sea.
Just one tiny thing.
You sighed, knowing it was far more than that. Something deeper stirred beneath your ribs—a swelling of pride, of belonging. You had stood your ground today, played your part among legends, and come out stronger for it.
As you gazed at the fading colors streaking across the sky, a small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. You weren’t just surviving here, no anymore—you were becoming something more. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in it.
The steady thud of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. Turning, you saw Marco, Jozu, Fossa, Blenheim, Curiel, Atmos, and Kingdew standing before you, each wearing a knowing smirk that set you instantly on edge. These were Whitebeard’s fiercest commanders—the heavy hitters, the ones you’d be fighting alongside on the Plateau when the battle came crashing down.
Their presence radiated purpose, each one embodying strength forged through countless battles. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow as you met their expectant gazes. “What’s up?” you asked, pushing yourself up from where you’d been seated on the deck.
Kingdew was the first to speak, resting casually against the ship’s railing. “Since we’ll be stationed together up on the Plateau, we figured it’d be smart to go over possibilities—who we might face, strategies, weak points.” His tone was practical, straightforward, but there was an underlying edge of anticipation in his voice.
You nodded slowly, recognizing the logic in his words. The memories of training with them for years were pulled to the forefront of your memory as you looked to each of them. Discussing tactics now could be the difference between survival and disaster later. “Makes sense,” you admitted. Jozu, Kingdew and Fossa were your close combat instructors, they taught you how to use your fists when weapons were not enough, and how to play dirty when tactics failed you. Blenheim and Atmos were sword wielders, each having their own preferred weapon, however they taught you how to wield an array of swords. While they were never your favorite thing to wield they helped when fighting larger close combat fights— not that you could have put those skills to much use, but things were changing, you had to hold onto that. Curiel was your lead weapons instructor, he by far probably was one of your more favorite teachers because he allowed you to use his weapons all the time, even despite going against his orders (on several occasions) and using them to aid in fights from afar when you were supposed to be holed up on the ship— still you don’t regret it one bit. Then there was Marco, the one who taught you how to properly wield haki and test you against the skills you gained from the rest. With his ability, his Pheonix, there was nothing you could do to him that would hurt.
Fossa grinned sharply, resting his hand on the hilt of his blade. "Fig'red ya’d wanna be in on the plan'n. Can’t have ya stumblin’ in blind, now can we?"
Jozu crossed his massive arms, his gaze steady. “We’ve seen what you can do. You’re good— Seas be damned, you trained with us nearly ten years now” He let out a hearty laugh to which everyone but you followed before he continued “but there’s no room for guessing when it comes to Blackbeard.”
The weight of their confidence—measured, earned—settled over you. They weren’t testing you; they were including you, treating you as an equal in the fight ahead. It sent a flicker of warmth through your chest, tempered only by the grim reality of what lay ahead.
Marco met your eyes last, his expression unreadable but steady. “We’ve got your back,” he said simply.
It wasn’t a promise, not exactly—but it felt like one. You nodded again, straighter this time. “Alright. Let’s talk.”
The discussions stretched on as strategies were laid out, names assigned, and roles defined. Everyone spoke with grim certainty, their battle-worn minds piecing together possibilities like a weathered map. You agreed to most of the plans, nodding when needed, but beneath your skin, something restless stirred—an old, stubborn instinct that bristled at the thought of relying on anyone.
The idea of backup, of needing to be saved, sat uneasily in your chest. You’d expressed as much to Marco, sending him a steady look before turning away. You had been told, taught even, to do it alone when you were little, a part of you still carried that with you. Still, you kept quiet, only half-listening as names were matched with roles, mentally locking onto one piece of information that burned brighter than the rest.
Catarina Devon.
Marco had wagered that all ten Titanic Captains would be stationed on the Plateau, their sole purpose to protect the rot at the center of it all—Marshall D. Teach. Blackbeard.
Your jaw clenched involuntarily. You hadn’t crossed blades with Devon before, she was just a name whispered in the salt spray of the sea. She was cunning and ruthless, you knew that much, a hunter in the truest sense. If she was there—and you were sure she would be—you’d face her.
The others continued to talk, shaping contingencies and fallback points, but your mind was already there—on the Plateau, steel in hand, shadows stretching long under a blood-red sky.
Backup or not, you’d be ready. You had to be.

Chapter Text

You had opted to try and summon your fruit in a last desperate attempt before heading into the fight. It worked— kind of. Feathers sprouted from your hands while your legs were a haphazard mess of fluff and yellow scales. You shivered as you tried not to think about the monstrosity you had shifted into— you still hated this form but it if was the only one you could summon then you would have to just not worry about it. With a final huff as The Moby Dick settled onto the shores you grabbed your long sword— the one with the leather wrapped and gold tinted hilt with rhinestones encrusted onto the pommel. It was a royals sword that you had swiped several years ago. It was really the only sword you had any proficiency in, however the main point of your training was sticking them with the pointy end— which really could be applied to any sharp object, even potato peelers. 

When the ships had landed on the shores of the island everything had gone to chaos, not because Blackbeard and his men were waiting, but for the sheer amount of numbers moving all at once. Everyone knew the plan and were moving as if they had been working together for years. It felt like you were the only one out of the loop. You searched through the sea of moving and yelling heads to find your group. 

Your haki for better or for worse was steady enough that you could rely on it while fighting. As you ran through the sea of gathered allies you finally found Atmos at the edge of the fray with Fossa and Kingdew. You breathed a sigh of relief as you gathered with them.

“There you are!” Kingdew yelled towards you as you suddenly felt an earth shattering jolt that made everyone on the lower beaches stumble. Looking up on towards the plateau you saw Sanjuan Wolf’s enormous head peaking over the far side of the plateau that melted with the forest encompassing the facilities. You guessed that he was the one to be protecting the facilities.

“Holy shit, he’s fucking huge!” You gaped towards the giant as he stared blankly at the pirates storming the peninsula and beach. Your gaze shifted over to the shoreline of the beach and saw that Newt and his forces had gathered and were now forming into their ranks with the a portion of the allies.

“We move, now.” Fossa’s voice was gruff, with an edge of anticipation to it. The rest of our group had yet to show up but you saw Marco in the air already flying towards the plateau with Whitebeard under him— running… that man was running…actually scratch that… he was fucking sprinting. You didn’t know a man of his age still did that. As he sprinted towards the Plateaus cliff the sand under his feet kicked up into the air creating a dust cloud left in his wake. You felt the rumbling as he ran past your group. Scary…

Whitebeard wasted no time in sprinting to the plateau before jumping and grappling the side of edge of the plateau with his halberd. He struck it into the edge of the cliff and proceeded to the top. It took most of your focus to pull your vision away from the astounding show of strength that Whitebeard exhibited. You turned towards Kingdew and nodded. Your group would follow after Whitebeard and take your place on the Plateau. You felt a surge of sweltering heat below your skin as you started running. You were actually a pretty fast running and so this heat you felt wasn’t the kind when you were running out of strength this was different— like fire and embers making your blood boil with something so ancient it drew your strength and compounded it into something greater.

You pulled ahead of your group and rushed a small outcropping of rocks. You trusted your instincts as you had done several times before and used it as a launching point. You felt it, you could feel it surging beneath your skin as your body transformed into the great eagle that you held within your soul. Your wings sprouted from your arms and your talon pushed off with great effect from the outcropping of rocks. 

You were air bound in a matter of second. Drifting up towards the top of the Plateau where Whitebeard and Marco were already standing, staring at the filth that was waiting you.

It took mere seconds for you to reach the top of the plateau, landing with a loud thud, debris scattering around you as you stood to your fullest height beside Whitebeard. You mustered a sneer that could level men as you took in the Ten Titanic Captains waiting for you. Blackbeard was behind them all, laughing like a madman from hell.

“I’m going to kill you Blackbeard!” Whitebeard growled out as he took on a fighting stance. Jesus Bergess and Shiryu did the same all snickering and howling like wild beasts. “Not only because you threatened the life of one of my children but because you have gone too far into your twisted dreams for a reality not meant for this world.” He added on as he drew his fists into balls and squared his shoulders. Your eyes widened as you realized you would witness him use his devil fruit power. With a twist of his torso Whitebeard hit one fist towards the Captains and then spun on his heel to deliver another blow. The air cracked and sparked with power as you saw a faint glimmer of shattered glass in the air. It was then in the next moment two large waves of air were sent hurtling towards the Captains and their Admiral.

The force sent most of the Ten Titanic Captains scattering while Bergess, Shiryu, Laffitte and Kuzan were left standing, bracing themselves against the impact.

It was also in that same moment everyone else who was left climbing the plateau suddenly appeared. They took their opening that Whitebeard had given them and they swarmed those who were scattered. 

You, in a flurry of ash and embers found yourself headed towards Catarina Devon.  You felt your devil fruit swirl with a compounded strength that the fire and embers. As you rushed Devon you jumped into the air and transformed into your half-beast, half-human form and gained air. Marco was with you as you two rose into the air. You looked over at him and it was like you both knew what you would do. Marco would take on Kuzan and he was right beside Devon. The two of you nodded to one another, no words spoken. Then, as you two had gained enough air you both dive bombed towards the two captains.

Devon looked to the sky and saw that you were charging her with a speed that would have destroyed anyone else— not her though. She steeled herself in haki and crossed her arms bracing for impact. You tucked your wings, that were shimmering with a faint glow of orange, closer to your body and your speed increased. You needed Devon out of the fight as soon as possible so you too also focused all of your haki into your feet. A crackling of orange and red sparks emerged from your body as you focused all of your haki into your feet. 

When you made impact with Devon, a crater formed around her as you pushed her into the ground. A crackling of red and orange lightning erupted from your collision and scattered across the plateau in a flurry of power cracking the ground and creating chasms where enemies fell. You fight with Catarina Devon had begun.

The clash of steel and the thunder of distant cannons echoed across the plateau as you fought Catarina Devon, her twisted grin gleaming like a predator savoring the hunt. Her jagged blade met yours with brutal force, sending shocks up your arms. You twisted away, narrowly avoiding the swipe of her weapon aimed for your throat. You shifted on your heel in a practiced maneuverer as you narrowly missed her swipe. You let out a breath of air as you countered her attack with your own. You imbued your sword with haki as you followed through on your whirl and brought down your sword to her forearm. The steel clattered with her haki imbued arm and sent sparks flying.

“You will never hold power!” You bellowed out as you jumped back from her. You needed to reassess how you would take her down. You blood was boiling with a tempered rage as you stared her down. Your devil fruit was useless at the moment. It was like a wave, flowing in and then receding. It made you grumble but you would have to work with it. Your haki on the other hand was more steady. It fluctuated but its power never left you. You thanked whatever God was out there for the shift in power you had. Despite not having full control over you haki or fruit your attacks were being imbued with something more ancient. It made you stronger than normal. You briefly hoped that it would remain this way. You could get used to this extra strength.

“It seems like you should be worrying about your own power…” She taunted as she stepped back, her right leg moving further back. You were caught off by her comment— was it posisble for her to feel the fluctuating power of your haki? While you were distracted she brought her right leg through the dirt and kicked up dust and debris sending it your way. You coughed as you shielded against the dust that wanted to get into your lungs and eyes. You scanned the cloud of dirt for any signs of Devon. You then felt her haki signature behind you and you whirled on your feet just in time to parry her attack meant for your head.

“My own power is fine.” You grounded out as you used your strength to try and push away her sword that was slowly moving closer and closer to your head.

“I don’t think so, you can’t fool me child.” She growled out as you felt a surge of boiling rage filter into your arms. A soft orange glower emitting from your arms as you finally shoved her off of you. As soon as it was there it was gone as if it never happened.

Devon glared at you curiously as you squared your shoulders ready to attack her once again. Whatever question she had was quickly replaced by a defensive maneuver as you rushed her.

The battlefield was chaos—a deadly dance of blades, powers, and will. Whitebeard’s commanders carved through the Blackbeard Pirates with relentless precision, forcing their enemies toward the cliff’s edge. Marco soared overhead in his phoenix form, flames streaking across the morning sky as he dived into battle, tearing through enemy lines. Jozu’s diamond-armored form bulldozed through everything in his path, unyielding as the earth itself.

But here, locked in a deadly rhythm with Devon, it was only you and her. She lunged again, her strikes fast and feral, each one testing your resolve. You met her blade with yours, sparks flying as you pushed back with everything you had.

“Feisty,” she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. “I’ll carve that defiance out of you just like how Caesar carved those wings from your back.” Devon growled as she took another lunge towards you. Your heart stalled for a moment as those memories replayed in your head. Another surge of blistering power coursed through you as you parried her attack and glowered towards her smirk. You felt that same surge of power flow through you as your body softly glowed with an orange light. 

“I’ll never let you take anything away from me again!” you barked as you pushed her away and swiped out nicking her across the cheek. The first real damage you were able to do to her. A golden lightning strike of haki emitted from you and had suppressed her own haki allowing you to gain the upper had for a moment. You continued to push forwards. The pulsing tempered rage fueling your attacks to something far greater. It was in the background of your thoughts where you contemplated that this power was the conquerers haki that Shanks had told you about awhile ago. That lightning strikes that flowed from your body were different, a more brilliant shade of gold than orange.

Your focus was narrowing to the deadly arc of her weapon as she quickly recovered. You dodged low, driving your blade toward her exposed side. She twisted, avoiding the blow by inches, countering with a vicious kick that sent you staggering back. In the thrall of your fight you hadn’t realized how far you two had moved from the fray of the fight. Your heart pounded in your chest as you finally took in your surroundings. 

Whitebeard was a mere speck that towered over the muddled bodies. You could make out Marco in the air figting Kizaru who had been sending waves of ice across the field. Even the sounds of gun fire and yelling as dimmed to a dull thrum of noise, like an unsteady drum beat in a bar. You whipped your head back to Catarina who was now laughing as she dug her sword into the ground.

“Now, doesn’t this look familiar?” She chuckled darkly as she stared at you with a familiarity that didn’t match what you remembered.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as you twirled your sword in your hand. You would take the reprieve as a blessing because your haki wasn’t at its full functional power yet— you needed time before you could return to the fight.

“Who do you think sent those pirates in that fight all those years ago?” she taunted again. This time your blood ran cold as you stared at her. You kept your face as stoic as you could as you recalled the fight that left you with that scar on your shoulder. You could still feel the sea-prism stone javelin that bound you to the ground. You winced slightly as you backed away, trying to get away from Devon and closer to where the fighting was thickest. Even if you were alone it was just you and Devon, you were surrounded like last time so you still had a chance.

“Those pirates weren’t affiliated with Blackbeard.” You said as you steeled yourself with haki. You would be prepared this time. You couldn’t fall. You wouldn’t fall.

“Sure, they looked like rogues, right?” her tone was cool, airy as if it could have been the truth. Yet, something was telling you that it wasn’t. Sure, those pirates didn’t have any association with any major crews on the Grand Line, however, that didn’t mean they weren’t hired for dirty work.

“I was tasked with testing out this serum that Caesar created by order of Blackbeard himself. Of course when I sent those pirates into Whitebeards territory I knew that there was a possibility that this would all fail. Which is why I made sure to leave no affiliation to our crew. You seem like a smart child, tell me, how did that fight go?” Devon carried on talking as you racked your mind for the memories of that fight from five years ago. You were too unseasoned as a fighter to really determine the strength of rogue pirates however, given that Whitebeard himself was in the fight you could take an educated guess that they could have been stronger than usual.

“Even if you did send them, we still came out victorious in that fight. What are you getting at Devon?” You snarled as you imbued your sword and body with haki.

“Hm, you disappoint me. No matter, we’ve refined the serum. This time we won’t lose.” She rambled on as she unsheathed her sword from the ground. The two of you started fighting once again. This time there was a force behind her attacks. She wasn’t playing anymore. She was fighting to kill this time. It caught you off guard but you quickly regained your footing and parried her attacks. Blow after blow the crackling of your two haki signatures echoed across the ground. It shook the very foundation of the plateau. 

Hold your own, you can do this. You thought as you put all of your focus into finding and creating and opening.

The ground beneath your feet trembled—a distant rumble signaling Whitebeard’s power surging through the earth. You steadied yourself, breathing hard but refusing to yield.

Catarina circled, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “You think they’ll save you?” she taunted, motioning toward the battle raging behind you. “You’ll die alone. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“I will not die, not here, not by your hand.” You growled as you parried her attack and swept her sword upwards and out of her hand. The fire that burned within you grew larger and you then shifted into your half-beast half-human form and grabbed her arms. This flurry of motion seemed to make the world slow down. Your talons dug into her biceps and you carried her into the air. Without her sword she was defenseless. As your wings flapped into the air you gained more air. 

Catarina Devon was caught off guard. She thrashed in your hold but with each movement your talons dug deeper into her skin. You tossed her into the air and then grabbed her by the chest and thighs. You would carry her higher into the air, the drop alone would kill her but that wasn’t enough for you. This rage, this billowing flame in your core drove you. Your vision turning into a tunnel as you flew further into the air. 

I will not die

I will not be alone

I will not die alone

You repeated over and over to yourself as you carried her higher into the air. Your wings flapped and carried you even higher. You would go as high as you could. This rage you felt overtook your senses as you looked around at the fighting below you. Most of the Ten Titanic Captains were down for the count. Kizaru, Shiryu and Doc Q were the only ones that remained, with Blackbeard fighting off allies as the rest of the commanders drew closer to the edge of the cliff. You could see it, the victory that was just out of reach. Your eyes then casted down towards Devon who still continued to thrash in your hold. The rage went unfiltered as your then stopped in the air. Wings flapping, growing tired. This would be good enough. You were high enough that this would kill her. 

A shit eating grin then plastered your face as you stared down at Catarina Devon. Her thrashing stopped as she stared up at you with pure and unfiltered dread.

“I will not die.” You spoke with a calmness that seemed to polarize with the rage you felt coursing through you. For all you had been through, for all you had done to get to where you are now. Death may have been the answer when you were lost in your darkness, but not now. You would do anything within your own power to stay alive. 

“You wouldn’t, let’s just talk this through…” Devon was begging now as you held her life in your hands. Your grin split your face as you continued to stare at her.

“I will not die.” You repeated again as your grip on Devon loosened. Devon tried to grip onto your legs as she was scrambling to save her own life.

“Don’t do this” more begging. 

The light around you had begun to dim slowly. You looked to the sky and saw that Newt had been correct. The eclipse, it had started. Then it was like a switch had been turned in your body. You felt that raging heat in your body unfurl into a blistering hell fire. 

You are the dawn, the sun, the light that keeps the darkness at bay.

You are the dusk, the moon, the darkness that keeps the lightness in check.

Your wings seemed to grow larger, the scales of your talons darkening into a deep and bloody red as you continued to stare at the eclipse. Your vision faded as you took a backseat in your own mind. It was like there was something, no, someone else taking a hold of you. 

“When the hell are you?” Devon barely whispered out as she took in the sight before her. Your wings had turned from a deep brown to a more golden orange, your face shifting into something more bird like as a sleek plumage of feathers overtook your hair. You facial features sharped and narrowed into something more bird like as your eyes turned black. A hint of raging fire burning within them. 

Catarina then found herself free falling. She was too awestruck to process the fear that lingered at the edge of her mind as she took in your form. She stared into your your eyes that were eerily vacant as you watched her fall to the slow waxing of the eclipse which haloed your head as you flapped your strong, orange tinted wings, that seemed to glow like fire under the fading light of the sun. To her, you looked like a God. A monstrosity in a barely human form meant to deal out her death like a harbinger of everything and nothing alike.

Catarina Devon then started screaming as she begun to process that her death was inevitable. She would collide with the ground with a thunderous thud that her soul would be recalled to the cosmos.  Her body left in the mortal realm where it would decay and turn to earth and stone. Her gaze widened as she saw you dive bomb her once again, your crackling haki suppressing her own that she wouldn’t be able to shield herself from the fall. Her screaming echoed across the plateau as you dug your talons into her torso. Pushing her faster through the air, the ground coming ever closer. Her death inevitable.

Catarina Devon’s life flashed before her eyes as she tried to make amends with the folly of her days. Then as she took in your glowing ethereal godlike form her vision went blank. A building pressure so fast and great was the only thing she felt before darkness consumed her. 

Catarina Devon was dead.

As the dust settled around you you stood to your full height panting, trying to get as much air as possible. You were back in your own mind for now but you still felt the surging of a primal and ancient power swirling within you, dancing with your devil fruit as if urging it to take over. You shook your head as you crawled out of the crater you had made. The fighting was still going but you were positive that it would be ending soon. As you scanned the horizon you saw that most of Blackbeard’s forces were pushed towards the edge of the cliff. Still they fought, trying to fend off the ongoing pressure the Whitebeard Pirates and and allies were giving them.
In the midst of the chaos you saw Shanks and his crew fighting, barely a sweat on their brow, as they pushed Blackbeard closer and closer to the edge. Blackbeard was putting up a good and strong fight but you knew that it would never be enough. Not with him trying so desperately to cling to the notion that a world without haki, without devil fruits, was worth all this bloodshed. That his strength alone could conquer all.
The dust from your brutal fight with Catarina Devon still lingered in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of blood and gunpowder. You looked back into the crater and found that her twisted body lay motionless among the shattered rocks—eyes gone lifeless and chest still. You couldn’t dwell on it; the battlefield shifted like a living beast, and you had no time to waste.
You still felt the sweltering heat rage on within you as you moved across the field, picking up your sword, you ran across the plateau, following the edge trying to figure out how to re-enter without getting in the way of those already locked in to a fight. Along the way you aided those who needed help but didn’t stay to talk or give orders.
As you rounded a battered ridge near the edge of the plateau, movement caught your eye—a scattered platoon of battered fighters wearing the tattered insignia of the Revolutionary Army. Their captain, adorned with their signature insignia, lay crumpled in the dirt, unmoving. They were further from the fight at the other end of the plateau where you needed to be but they, like you all those years ago, were surrounded. The pirates around them surged with cruel purpose, aiming to crush what little resistance remained. Your grip on your sword tightened as you turned towards the remaining members of a Revolutionary Army platoon. A platoon that was meant to meet up with the others to take down the facility that laid in the depths of the forest behind the plateau.
You cursed under your breath but didn’t hesitate any longer. Raising your weapon high, you shouted, voice sharp and commanding:
“Form ranks! Rally to me!”
To their credit, the fighters didn’t falter. They moved toward you, finding strength in unified purpose despite their exhaustion and losses. You met them head-on, cutting down a charging pirate with brutal precision before barking out orders:
“Spears at the front! Archers, fall back! Swords on me—we’ll push forward in a wedge!”
They obeyed without question, a desperate gleam in their eyes. They needed a leader—and, for now, that was you. They stood behind you, in the formation you ordered. You could hear their labored breaths as you clutched your sword close to your chest, right where your Whitebeard mark laid on your chest. 
The pirates pressed in from all sides, their jeers and crude battle cries growing louder. You could feel the weight of the enemy’s advantage—numbers, positioning, and terrain—but panic was a death sentence in war.
“When surrounded, know your escape. When outnumbered, divide the enemy.” You heard Speed Jiro’s words linger in your mind as you took in the swatch of enemy pirates in front of you. With their training you could lead this platoon to their meeting point. You could do that much. 
The teachings of Whitebeard’s commanders rang clear in your mind—honed lessons learned through fire and blood. Your gaze darted across the field, locking onto a narrow ravine carved into the plateau's edge. A natural choke point.
“Fall back to the ravine!” you ordered, cutting down another foe. “Archers, suppressing fire—don’t let them close in! Spear line, hold formation!” you ordered as you led them closer to the choke point. The enemy pirates to their discredit didn’t see the plan that you were quickly following. They would fall into the trap you hastily put together. A small smile spread across your face. Given your recent fight with Catarina Devon, this was going to be easy.
The platoon moved with growing confidence as your commands cut through the chaos like a blade. Forced into the narrow pass, the pirates’ numbers meant nothing; they bottlenecked themselves, becoming easy targets.
You fought like a tempest alongside the platoon members, pushing the line forward, steel flashing with deadly precision. Every move was calculated, every strike a decisive blow. You knew this fight—not from instinct but from drilled lessons taught by the Whitebeard commanders. You didn’t have real world experience but going off of theory alone seemed so easy. Without further command the archers that were not holding off the pirates rounded the ravine and got a hold of the high ground. They rained down arrows from above while you and the other platoon members picked off any remaining pirates that got through the ravine.
When the last pirate fell, you stood at the forefront, breathing hard, blade still raised. The battered soldiers behind you cheered—a ragged, triumphant sound. You also smiled as you turned to them, to assess the wounds they had gotten. It wasn’t much, minor cuts and bruises, nothing that needed immediate attention. Your pride swelled in  your chest as you successfully led a small platoon of thirty-five souls. The remaining lieutenants rearranging the platoon so that the members were evenly scattered amongst them.
“I can’t you enough for your help.” A stocky lieutenant spoke clearly as you bowed. You shifted uneasy in your spot. You could tell that he was like you, too new to the world of fighting. Using his theoretical knowledge to try and fight. You clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.
“I can’t stay with you forever, my place is on the plateau but I can take you to your rendezvous point.” You mused softly as you looked to the other remaining lieutenants. They all nodded. It was from here that most of them were like the one in front of you. New, too new. You grimaced before nodding your head.
You didn’t bask in the calmness for long. Instead, you turned to the rest of the platoon, steady and fierce. “We’re not done. Fall in—we’re moving.”
Without hesitation, they rallied behind you, following your lead as though you had always been their captain. And maybe, in this moment, you were.

Leading the Platoon through thick brush and densely packed forest terrain you found that there were little to no pirate enemies. However, what there was was a whole slew of hidden traps. They were all deadly, meant to kill anyone who didn’t know the correct pathway to take. You cursed under your breath as you moved slowly through the forest. You kept a vigilant eye out for anything that didn’t look like it belongs. After moving past traps you always made sure to turn back and see that the rest of the platoon was following in your direct footsteps. One misstep and someone could get killed. It racked your brain and made you more easily to temper. So when a lieutenant spoke up to ask how much further they had you whipped your head to him and told him to shut it. You felt bad, but you needed to concentrate on not getting any of them killed.
As you continued to trudge through the thick forest you came upon an opening where voices echoed softly. You halted the platoon by raising a fist to the air. You pulled out your sword and moved closer to see what lay ahead. Yet as you moved through vines and bushes you saw a company of Revolutionary Army members in the center of the opening. You let go a sigh of relief as you moved into the opening.
“Who goes there?” A guard spoke as you broke through the brush. You raised your hand to the air and nodded to him. 
“I bring another platoon to help, their captain had fallen in battle.” You spoke calmly as you waved for the platoon members to come out of the forest. The guards face fell into relief as the rest of the platoon members walked up to the other members of the company. Some waving their hands to friends while others held each other in embraces. 
It was then a tall and muscular man had stepped out of the center of the gathered company and walked up to you. He had graying hair and a square cut face with a beard to match. A rather handsome fellow if you had any say in the matter. He held out his hand to you and you took it gratefully. You remembered him from the mess hall— Keller was his name.
“Major Keller, pleasure to meet you again.” You spoke curtly with a tight smile.
“I see you brought my men safely to the rendezvous point, thank you. I was beginning to worry where Captain Theon was.” He spoke, his voice gruff with years of experience. You nodded solemnly as you told him about Captain Theon’s death.
“I’m sadden to see he was unable to make it. You led these soldiers yourself?” He asked as he looked to the platoon that was slowly melting into the array of other platoons in front of you.
“I did sir, they were surrounded but I was able to get them to safety. They’re fine soldiers.” You remarked with a hint of a smile on your face.
“That they are. Again, thank you. Your bravery and leadership will not go unnoticed.” He nodded to you before returning to his spot at a table. They would assist in destroying the enemy’s key facilities deeper within the forest—a vital blow to Blackbeard’s monopoly. With a nod, you turned back toward the edge of the forest that would lead back to the plateau.

Stepping out of the thick forest you noted that the sky was gaining an orange glow. The moon was nearly halfway to a full eclipse. Again, when you looked, a power surged though you as if the presence of both lightness and darkness together pulled on an ancient thread deep within your soul. You felt yourself receding back into the haze of your own mind. You shook your head trying to dispel the feeling and when you looked away from the eclipse the feeling had faded back into the crevasse of your mind. You breathed deeply as you regained your vision. You stepped out onto an outcropping of rocks and overlooked the plateau. You wanted to know where everyone was, where you should go. 
The battlefield below was chaos incarnate. Explosions shattered the air, and steel clashed in a deadly rhythm. Whitebeard’s commanders and allied crews fought with relentless determination, forcing Blackbeard’s pirates ever closer to the edge of the cliff. You saw Jozu fighting with a platoon of Blackbeard Pirates, his massive diamond form fending of any attacks with ease. You smiled, your brother was always a shield of shining diamonds. You then spotted Fossa facing off with Shiryu with Marco and Kingdew. Shiryu was an army in his own right from what you remembered but against three commanders? You questioned whether he valued his life. His loss would be inevitable. 
Then in a blinding crash of haki and light you spotted Whitebeard facing off with Blackbeard himself. You frowned as you saw Whitebeard was beginning to sweat. He was tired, his old age showing in the heat of battle. You swallowed thickly as you remembered just how poorly you had been to him over these last several years. There was a growing inkling of desperation that filtered through you as you watched him fight. You knew he could take on Blackbeard, but deeper so, you knew that if he fell the forces he commanded would surely fall and the already bloody chaos would morph into something more primal. You needed him to be okay. You needed the only father figure in your life to come out alive. If not for the alliance then for your own selfish needs to have him around just a little while longer. Just enough for you to fix whatever chasm that had grown between the time you joined and now.
You stepped back from the edge of the outcropping of rocks you were on, eyes still scanning the fighting. You traced the frenzied skirmishes with sharp eyes, searching for anything out of place—then you saw him.
Newt.
Your heart seized. He was supposed to be on the beach with his fleet, managing retreating enemies—not here, tangled in a brutal clash on the Plateau. His twin swords flashed in the dying light as he battled against a twisted figure cloaked in ragged black—Doc Q—his pale horse, Stronger, stomping and snapping like a beast possessed.
You broke into a sprint toward the fight, shouting Newt’s name—but the wind swallowed your voice. Doc Q’s scythe sliced through the air, and with one terrible sweep, he hooked Newt by the shoulder, yanking him off the ground. Stronger reared and galloped toward the Plateau’s edge, dragging your brother like a broken marionette.
“No!”
Your scream ripped through the air as you pushed harder, but it was too late. They plunged over the cliff’s edge—Newt’s form disappearing into the abyss below. You pushed haki into your legs to help you sprint faster, kicking up debris and dust in your wake as you drew closer and closer to the plateaus edge. As you ran you felt that same sweltering heat build up within you and then it happened…
Something snapped.
Raw, desperate rage ignited deep within your chest, surging like molten fire. For too long, your Devil Fruit powers had been unreliable, shattered by Caesar Clown’s twisted experiments—but now, in this moment, there was no room for failure. You needed to help your brother, to make sure he made it out alive. 
You felt the familiar, searing heat ripple across your skin—a force that could have levels cities. Feathers, a deep shade of burnt orange spread across your arms as wings—massive and powerful— the feathers that sprouted from your back had spread across your body covering your chest and back leading into a tail of deep maroon and burnt orange that glowed like fire under the fading light of the eclipse. You rushed the edge of the cliff forgetting about everyone else fighting there. You had to trust that the plan would move forwards without your aid. Right now you needed to get to your brother.
With a wild scream, you launched yourself off the Plateau, rock and debris exploding in your wake. The wind tore at your face as you plunged downward, wings straining against gravity. You locked onto Newt’s limp body, suspended in the air, Doc Q still dragging him like a sick trophy. You locked onto his form as your fierce wings flapped in the wind catching any wave of air that they could.
The world narrowed into a singular purpose—save him.
With one final, furious beat of your wings, you dove, claws outstretched, ready to tear apart anything that dared stand between you and your brother. 
You would kill Doc Q.

Chapter Text

The air was sharp and biting as every wing beat brought you closer to where Newt was dangling in Doc Q’s grasp. His horse Stronger, a horse who had eaten the Mythical Zoan type Devil fruit Model: Pegasus, flew in the air dragging a haphazard Newt along with them. They were moving further and further away from the Plateau’s edge. Doc Q was laughing as Newt panted and winced under the strain that the scythe was putting on his shoulder. He was skewered and defenseless as he dangled in the air.
You heart pounded in your chest as you drew closer and closer to the three of them. It was the a sudden thrum—deep and primal—reverberated through your bones, wild and untamed. Heat flooded your limbs, searing and relentless, igniting something fierce and forgotten within you. A strangled cry escaped your lips as pain and power collided, rippling through your arms in a violent surge. It was like the power within you was trying to escape. Trying to take over. You wouldn’t let it. You pushed through it all as your body continued to fly towards your brother.
No time to think.
Just as you were about to crash into Doc Q he had removed his scythe from Newts shoulder and he was not in a free fall to the ground below. You yelled out Newts name and this time he heard you. His eyes widened as he saw you flying towards him. Doc Q forgotten for now.  
Breathing hard, you twisted midair and dived toward the Peninsula, the chaotic battlefield below blurring into shadows and steel. You were giving everything you had to catch up to Newt before he collided with the ground. Time again seemed to slow down to a slow pace as you were mere inches from grabbing Newt, into the safety of your talons. Both of you looked at each other, desperation written on both of your faces as the sky above grew darker by the second. The total eclipse was minutes away. The last rays of light from the sun fading away as the moon took preciseness within the sky, the suns rays encompassing it like a crown— A King crowning his Queen.
That same ethereal power consumed you as you finally clutched Newt into your talons. You wings beat hard to catch air before the two of you crash landed into the ground below. You groaned as your muscles strained against the sudden shift in pressure.
“Hold on, Newt,” you whispered, voice raw with desperation. “I’ve got you.”
You landed hard behind allied lines, stumbling but refusing to fall. You tucked Newt into your chest as your wings wrapped around him to shield him from the sudden crash. After you were sure you were done skidding across the sand you unfurled your wings that shielded Newt and gasped for air. Revolutionary medics rushed forward, shouting commands as they took Newt from your trembling body. Relief surged through you, tempered only by the relentless thudding of your heart.
“What the hell were you doing up there?” you gasped out through ragged breathes. Whatever was happening to you was having a severe impact on your stamina and strength. That primal and ethereal feeling in your chest subsided, as you shifted back into your human form. You were waning.
“Trying to keep that man from killing you.” You muttered out as if the whole scenario was that simple.
“Doc Q was nowhere near me when I reentered the battlefield…” you ground out as you got up to your feet. You body was aching now. The stress of transforming was catching up to you.
“His men… his men were the ones that took on the broken platoon you saved. Some of them escaped and told him. I only overheard because the fucking guy was seething, telling pirates on the shore to follow after you.” The Revolutionary Army medics were all over Newt scouring fro any lethal wounds. Newt just sat there and let them do their work all the while trying to steady his own beating heart. “You’re welcome by the way. You would have been over run if it weren’t for my men taking them on before you arrived back on the plateau.”
You deflated a little and sighed. You could let it go. You had to. Newt saved your life— despite his almost being given up instead.
“Thanks… for having my back.” You said as you let your relief wash over you. Yet that relief wasn’t held for long. It was then you heard it. A sudden crack of lightning as haki erupted in the air like a firework.
You spun just in time to see Doc Q and Stronger descending from the sky, twisted malice etched into their faces. Fury burned through your veins, blotting out every shred of fear or exhaustion. You surged upward once more, wings straining as you shot toward them like a deadly arrow. You left newt behind as he screamed for you to not engage with him. Yet, you were the only one at the moment who could. If Doc Q got to the ground every medic within his vicinity would be dead. You needed those medics for after the war, you couldn’t let them die.
The collision hit like a thunderclap— colliding haki signatures sending out cracks of lightning. You crashed into Doc Q with unyielding force, claws raking against rusted steel as Stronger’s hooves struck wildly beneath you. Feathers flew, blades flashed, and for a heartbeat, the sky itself seemed to recoil from the violence of your descent.
The wind howled like a living thing, tearing at your wings as you spiraled downward, locked in a deadly grapple. Doc Q snarled, his scythe flashing as he twisted in midair, aiming for your side—but you wrenched yourself back, narrowly dodging the lethal arc.
“Persistent little Pheonix, aren’t you?” he rasped, voice dripping with venom. You didn’t even register the words as you continued to flap helplessly and claw at any part of Stronger you could snag. However, it was true though, despite you not being able to see it. Those who were on the ground witnessing the fight in the air watched in horror and awe as your body glowed under the near total eclipse. It was like the rage that coursed thorough your body manifested itself into flames around your body as you and Doc Q slowly descended towards the ground.
You didn’t answer—you couldn’t. Every muscle burned, every wing beat screamed defiance as you slammed into him again, reckless and relentless. There was no room for fear—only raw survival driven by the memory of Newt’s broken body dangling in the sky.
Steel bit into your shoulder—a glancing blow that sent fire through your veins—but you twisted, using the pain to fuel your next strike. With a savage cry, you raked your talons across Stronger’s flank, forcing them into a spiraled descent toward the battlefield below.

Far above, Marco’s keen eyes tracked the frenzied battle, breath caught tight in his chest. He recognized that wild, desperate flight—the furious determination that burned too hot, too fast. You were supposed to be with him, with Whitebeard, not tearing through the sky in reckless combat, alone.
“Go, Go get save them!” Whitebeard growled out as he was locked into a fight with Blackbeard. Marco without a single word nodded and ran towards the cliff. His heart was racing as he saw you crash into Doc Q mid-air. Your talons trying to scratch at anything the could.
“Idiot…” he hissed, fists clenched. His blue flames surged, wings flaring wide. He couldn’t let this spiral further out of control. 
As Marco leaped into the sky and rushed towards you there was no time to take in the form you were in. In the back of his mind his Phoenix was a frenzy of pride and fear. You looked immaculate. A blazing frenzy of talons and fire under the forming eclipse. This form was larger too, nearly twice the side of Doc Q and his horse. 
He sucked in a breath of air as he saw Doc Q stab you with his scythe. Rage erupted within him as he transformed into his full phoenix form and hurtled through the air. He was coming for you—before the sky claimed you both.
Just as the two of you nearly crashed into the ground Marco had crashed into Doc Q sending him flying from his horse with a shrill yell. He had not time to waste to look and see if you were okay. He trusted that you could come out of that spiral alive. 
When he and Doc Q had crashed into the sandy beach below Doc Q was quick to his feet. Marco, gasping, also stood to his feet before him. They soon were in a hand to hand combat. Doc Q’s laugh was loud and manic as he slashed his way though bodies, enemies and foe alike, just to get to Marco. Marco whirled around allies and took out enemies as he too came closer and closer to Doc Q. 
As Marco and Doc Q launched into a fight Marco couldn’t help but feel for your haki signature. He couldn’t look away at the moment but what he could do was search. In the middle of their fight he felt you. Your haki was weak, but tempered by something else. It was like a blazing inferno that licked and scorched anything it touched. 
It was then in those moments that his imprint of you shifted and changed into something different. Instead of the soft brown he usually associated with your fruit morphed into a blazing bright orange color that pulsed with an ethereal light. He smiled as he threw a right hook towards Doc Q’s face. The sickly looking man staggered back and spat out blood onto the wet sand below.
“Seems like you and your little phoenix have a nasty habit of interfering with things that don’t concern you.” Doc Q growled out as he took his scythe and swiped it across Marcos chest. Marco’s phoenix healed his wound in a matter of seconds, his flames billowing on his chest as he smirked at Doc Q.
“My little Phoenix will always be my concern.”
Doc Q all but snarled at Marco as the two entered into another bout of fighting. Marco more than ever determined to deal with the sickly looking man and return back to you side. However, his observational haki awakened and he felt your presence quickly come in from behind. In a matter of seconds you were whipping past in an a flurry of wings and and talons, face hardened into something fierce as you crashed into Doc Q yourself.
Marco let out a huff but smiled as you tackled Doc Q to the ground. Your ruthlessness despite the fighting around you three was making his Phoenix swirl within him. His focus was solely on you as you ripped into Doc Q without mercy. Needless to say if your lives weren’t on the line, he would have taken you then and there.
However, as soon as the thought passed through him the rage followed afterwards. You hadn’t listened to him and he was not happy about it. You could have been killed.

Breathing ragged, you shoved Doc Q’s limp form off your claws, his twisted scythe falling from his useless hand as he crumpled into the dirt below. His grotesque mount, Stronger, let out a keening wail before collapsing beside him, beaten and broken.
Chest heaving, you staggered back, wings trembling from exertion, blood streaking your skin. The rush of battle still roared in your veins, fierce and unyielding, refusing to let you rest.
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
Marco’s sharp voice cut through the haze, piercing your storming mind like a blade. You turned just as he walked up beside you, blue flames licking his arms, his eyes blazing with fury but also something else— maybe pride?
“You abandoned the Plateau! We had a plan—you were supposed to be with us—with me!” His voice cracked, more anger than anything else. Yet even as the words left his mouth he couldn’t hold onto his anger. Whatever was happening to you it overrode the more rational side of his brain to act accordingly, to show you just how worried he had been when you were in that free fall.
“I—” Your words caught in your throat, tangled with exhaustion, shame, and defiance. “Newt was—”
“I know!” Marco barked, stepping closer, his hands trembling just above your shoulders as if he were to draw you into an embrace, but then he clenched them into tight fists. “But you can’t fight the whole damn war alone!” his temper was simmer into a sort of soft rage as he continued to hold your gaze. It was then you saw it, the hollowed ache and fear that you were so close to dying once again.
“I—I’m sorry…” you let the words slip out without fear. You knew you had abandoned his side, Whitebeards side. Hadn’t listened to the plan.
His words hit hard, but before you could try to quell his fear, something deep within your chest shifted. A slow, steady thrum resonated beneath your sternum—a heartbeat that wasn’t quite yours. It pulsed with raw, ancient power, fierce and untamable. You hand clenched your chest as if trying to get to your heart and steady it on its own. You sucked in a breath as the thrum continued.
Marco looked at you, unease settling into his facial features. He felt it, everyone felt that thrum of power. Because it wasn’t just a thrum, it was a vibration emitting from your core. You stepped back trying to understand what was happening to you.
The light around you dimmed further as the sun vanished into a perfect eclipse, plunging the battlefield into eerie twilight. The familiar heat of your Devil Fruit stirred beneath your skin, not chaotic or faulty, but focused.
You gasped, wings twitching as power surged through your veins—steady, resolute, and dangerous.
Then—
A low, guttural laugh echoed through the darkened sky.
The ground beneath you seemed to shudder as a massive figure emerged from the jagged cliffs near the Peninsula, casting a towering shadow over the broken battlefield. His cruel smile gleamed like a blade, eyes alight with malice and twisted joy. Where was Whitebeard? Your mind tried looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. That thrum them beat harder. Another vibration sent across the battle field as you tried to look for your captain.
“Ze~hahahaha!” Blackbeard’s voice boomed, thunderous and mocking. “Look at you… still breathing.”
His gaze locked onto yours, dark and hungry.
Blackbeard’s twisted grin widened as he took slow, deliberate steps forward, each heavy footfall sending tremors through the earth. The battlefield below crackled with distant cannon fire and desperate shouts, but here—on the darkened Plateau—everything narrowed into the oppressive weight of his presence.
Newt, still recovering behind allied lines, struggled to rise, his face pale with effort. You met his eyes for the briefest of moments—stay down, your gaze seemed to plead. He couldn’t fight Blackbeard—not anymore.
This was your fight now. It had to be, he took your wings.
The steady thrum in your chest surged, a living pulse of light and fire burning hotter with each beat. You spread your wings, feeling the aching pull of power ready to explode. Every instinct roared against facing Blackbeard alone, but something deeper—ancient, fierce, and inevitable—rose from the depths of your soul.
“Come on, then,” you snarled, taking a defiant step forward, talons scraping against cracked stone. “Let’s see if that oversized mouth can back itself up.”
Blackbeard’s dark chuckle rolled across the broken ground like thunder. “Ze~hahahaha! You think you can stand against me? You’re bold—but foolish.” His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. “I’ll enjoy crushing that light out of you.”
Before he could strike, the thrum within you erupted in a blinding ring of light, surging outward in a dazzling shockwave that shattered the gloom of the eclipsed sky. The force of it staggered Blackbeard, his grin faltering for the first time. Then the edge of the plateau begun to crack. Blackbeard looked down at where he was standing, eyes wide with shock as the plateau started to give under his feet.
It was then, Whitebeard, who was battered and bloodied rose to his feet behind Blackbeard and his men. The men behind Blackbeard cried with fear as Whitebeard in his last attempt to shatter the edge of the plateau crashed his fist into the air. The air cracked and Blackbeard spun around and yelled at him. The plateau finally gave way under their feet and Blackbeard and his men tumbled into the mess of the broken plateau, falling.
Heat roared through your body, burning away fear and weakness. Fire and light wove through your wings, transforming them into vast, radiant plumes of blazing gold and red. Your limbs stretched, reshaping into something untamed and mythic. Brilliant claws replaced your feet, fierce and sharp, and an avian crest of searing feathers crowned your head. You felt limitless, a force of nature forged from battle and survival itself. Unknowingly, you had become the semi-true form of the Phoenix, its ancient power bound to your very soul. But in your mind, it was simply the awakening of your Devil Fruit—the only explanation that fit.
When Blackbeard and his men crashed into the ground there was a beat of silence. Your rage that simmered below you skin paused briefly. Your eyes scanned the pile of debris that covered Blackbeard and his men. Then you felt it. A small rumble of power that stemmed from the pile of debris that caged Blackbeard under it. That rage that stopped briefly came back with a fervent thrum.
Newt had come to stand beside Marco, both now looking onwards with awe and barely contained excitement as they took in your form. 
Inthe same instance, Blackbeard broke free from the confines of the debris and leapt out landing with a thud on the ground just mere meters from where you stood now. The two of you locked gazes as Blackbeard wiped dust from his shoulders. He looked back up at where he once stood on the plateau and grimaced.
“I’m surprised you’re still standing old man…” Something in you clicked into place as you then rushed Blackbeard. Never turn your back on an enemy while in a fight, that was the number one rule on the seas, so you took your chance while you had it.
With a feral cry that echoed through the skies, you launched yourself at Blackbeard in a blaze of fiery light, claws gleaming like tempered steel. He barely had time to raise his arms before you struck, driving him back with unmatched fury.
This was your fight. This was your moment.
And nothing—nothing—would extinguish your flame.

Everyone on the peninsula and beach below all stopped their fighting, eyes drawn to the thrum of power you exuded with each heart beat. Those who were more religious than the others fell to their knees. The total eclipse that had sent their world into twilight seemed to add to the aura that whatever was happening was the work of the Gods. 
You were too focused, your vision tunneling onto Blackbeard as you hit him hard and fast. Your claws, like steel, scrapped into his skin. Blackbeard was strictly on the defensive, taken aback by your show of strength. Those who were caught in the crossfire started to scatter. You paid them no mind and in this instance you would kill anyone to get to Blackbeard, it didn’t matter that they were friend or foe.
You continued your onslaught of slices and swipes. 
Blackbeard was so focused that he couldn’t think of anything else as he tried to evade your attack.
Marco’s breath hitched as he stood frozen near Newt, Thatch, and the other commanders who were on the beach, watching the battlefield erupt into chaos. His sharp eyes tracked every blazing movement as you clashed with Blackbeard—a force of pure, unyielding power tempered by sheer will. He couldn’t help but smile as he continued to watch.
“Fucking hells, is that our little eagle?” Thatch practically yelled as his flickering shadows swirled around him. His hair was in a messy bun, stray strands covering his face as he looked at you take on Blackbeard. Izou, who had finally walked up to them let out a sharp laugh and nodded. Thatch, now bearing the ominous power of the Dark-Dark Fruit, clenched his fists, ready to move if you faltered. But you didn’t.
“I think it is. Well I’ll be damned.” Izou muttered as he too took in the sight that was you. You were chaos incarnate in his eyes. Yet, even as he watched you overpower Blackbeard he could agree that there was a certain finesse to your attacks. All of your training over the last ten years coming together. His chest swelled with pride as he continued to watch you fight for your right to freedom.
“I don’t think out little eagle is so little anymore…” Ace commented as he came up to stand beside Marco.
“I’d say they look more like you, Marco.” Shanks drawled as too stood behind the commanders. His eyes were focused on you as you moved with grace and fury. He noted the fiery characteristic of your feathers under the eclipse.
Marco could feel his Phoenix stirring—screaming—inside him, sending uncontrolled waves of Haki rippling across the peninsula. His chest ached, his heartbeat matching the thrum radiating from your transformed figure. He had never seen anything like it—your Devil Fruit wasn’t just awakened; it was something more, something ancient.
All Marco could do was hum as his gaze followed your every movement— a man completely enraptured by you.
“Reel it in, you’re starting to scare me…” Ace drawled as he started up at Marco. Ace could feel the haki radiating from Marco. There was a slight pinch to his sweaty brow as he watched Marco tear his focus from you and to him. If you asked Ace, he would tell you that seeing Marco blush was a first. The man was as stoic as they come, yet here he was fawning over a someone who was half his age. Ace let out a hearty laugh and clapped Marco on the back before returning his gaze back to you.
“Sorry…” Marco muttered as he straightened his back and regained some composure. Yet, reeling in his Phoenix was practically impossible at the moment. He could feel it, the tether that bound you two together. It was faint before, but now, seeing you here in this form, it was like that tether grew stronger. There was no doubt about it. He had read texts about Phoenix’s and how they mated for life. A secret interest of his to get to know himself better— he was only a child too when he ate his fruit. And it was for several years where he tried to understand what that tether felt like. Yet, it wasn’t until his imprint of you vanished that he slowly started to understand what it felt like to not have you around. It was like a part of his own soul died that day when your imprint disappeared. It was everyday after that where the bond grew stronger and stronger that it was becoming impossible to keep it a secret anymore. He knew you felt it too, in the way you subconsciously stood closer to him, the way you held him unknowingly and when you had sought him out after your nightmare, but he was unsure of if you understood it or not. It was possible you are in the dark like he was.
“Don’t be sorry, they’re amazing in their own right.” Izou spoke softly, a hint of a devious smile crossed his face as he watch his older brother try to reign in what little control he had. It wasn’t necessarily a secret to the commanders that Marco was slowly falling for you. They all saw it in the stolen glances you two took while the other wasn’t looking. Izou just hoped that this back and forth hidden romance would come to an end soon. He was a secret fanatic for romance novels and being able to see if unfurl in front of him was slowly going to be the death of him if they didn’t come together one way or another. He might just have to slip in and give those two a push if nothing came of it after this war.

Your fury coursed through you as you continued to slash and jab Blackbeard. Each hit finding its mark. You were slowly driving Blackbeard back into the base of the cliff. You would kill him. You would, you had to. 

Whitebeard who was now sitting on an outcropping of rocks looked down at the raging fight below between you and Blackbeard. A small smiled tugged on his lips as he let his sons tend to the wounds he had gotten while fighting Blackbeard. He was unsure whether you knew what Blackbeard had, he was sure you didn’t but he was more intrigued by the state of your devil fruit ability. He had heard of a forgotten myth about Eclipses and the power they held over this world a long time ago yet never put any stock into it. He didn’t truly expect to live to see such a monumental shift in power in his age but here he was. He was witnessing you, his only daughter, take on a man who had tried to rip your freedom from you. He couldn’t have felt prouder. Whitebeard himself was coming to the conclusion that you were, in fact, ready to head out into the open world. He may have failed in his duty to protect you by being over protective, but you were starting to show him that you would be okay. That you were slowly starting to uncover what drove you to put your all into anything. That your Will was more than your past. That is was the past, present and future that would compel you to form a Will so strong not even death could break it.
He wondered if this power would stay, or if it would go with the waning of the eclipse. 

The wings that exploded from your arms shone brighter than any fire Blackbeard had ever seen, burning gold and orange in fierce arcs through the darkened sky. You fought like you belonged in the heart of battle, relentless and precise, your strikes forcing even Blackbeard to stagger back. Blackbeard growled with each attempt to hold you back. As the dust from your attacks were flung into the air he had a second of reprieve before you found him again.
“Get the fucking box you useless pieces of trash!” He bellowed out to his men just as you swung through the haze of dirt and hit him square in the chest. 

Beside Marco, Newt, still catching his breath, whispered, "That’s her. She’s fighting for all of us."
Everyone around him all hummed in agreement. They were all in awe of what they were witnessing.

With a thunderous strike of blazing talons, you launched Blackbeard backward, sending him crashing into the jagged base of the cliff. His twisted crew scrambled to regroup, but the battle was turning in your favor. You smiled and were ready to head in for the kill. Yet, even as you moved the waning eclipse started to shed bright light onto the landscape below. The tempered ethereal power in your body started to wane as well…

Chapter Text

As you prowled forwards you payed no mind to the quivering and shaking men that dropped off a strange box in front of Blackbeard. Your eyes flicked to it briefly but you had him cornered, there was nowhere for him to go. His demise would be absolute, by your hand and your hand alone.
“Swarm it!” Blackbeard growled out as he stared daggers at your monstrous form. You were no God to him, you were an animal. All animals needed to be put down if they didn’t listen to their master. “Filthy vermen…” he glowered. It was then the crack of wood splitting open echoed ominously through the battered base of the cliff. Blackbeard’s twisted grin stretched wider as he gazed into the shattered crate before him. Inside lay rows of gleaming syringes filled with a dark, viscous substance swirling like living shadows. His cruel fingers closed around one with deliberate intent.
His men were quick to act, not for the vengeance they felt towards you but for the fear they harbored towards the man that was now injecting himself with the dark liquid. Your wings flapped and your talons tried to scratch at anyone that got closer but you were being swarmed. You eyes widen in horror, this all felt too familiar. As the swarm of pirates grew larger around you you saw him inject himself with the liquid. It was in the next, when you were toppled onto your back, that you saw the waning eclipse. The power that surged through you was weaker, less potent, then when the eclipse was at its fullest. It was in that moment you knew. You needed to take care of this before it was too late. Whatever God bestowed you this power was taking it right back. A part of you felt sadness, how absurd to think you could keep a power like this for life. 
You were brought to the ground, your wings flicked and flared around you as the thrumming of your heart vibrated across the field. 
"Ze~hahahaha!" His laughter boomed as he drove the needle deep into his forearm, the corrupted liquid surging into his veins. His muscles tensed, veins darkening beneath his skin as a surge of unnatural power coursed through him.
The air thickened with malice as Blackbeard flexed his hands, now encased in a nearly indestructible coat of Haki darker than the abyss itself. His aura expanded, oppressive and suffocating, spilling across the battlefield like an unstoppable tide.
You barely had time to register the shift before Blackbeard launched himself forward with terrifying speed, his fists cracking the air like cannon fire. You couldn’t move, his men were holding you down, your wings flaring as you narrowly avoided the devastating strike to your heart. The men you used as a shield yelped and died out in an instant.
Too close.
His strength was monstrous now—far beyond what you had faced before. But you couldn’t back down.
Flames erupted along your wings, they burned and scorched those who were still clinging onto you. You could sense that whatever was trying to hold onto your was giving its all to give you what you needed to win. Yet, it was fading quickly. With a powerful surge of power, that thrum, that heartbeat, exploded every remaining pirate that clung to you in a desperate attempt to save face in front of their admiral. Your wings flared to life as you jumped, sending debris scattering across the field. You were safe in the are, always had been, but now instead of running away you would charge towards the enemy. As you soared higher, you felt your heartbeat falter for a moment. 
The Solar eclipse was dying. 
Your attempts became more desperate as you continued to fly higher and higher into the air. You needed to be as high as you could. Then… and only then would you free fall. You needed speed. You needed to get as much speed before you drove your body into his very chest. As you reached your peak you looked to the waning eclipse and you felt nothing. No primal rage coursed through your body as you looked. Disappointed you tucked your wings close to your body as you started your descent downward with a spiraling dive. As you fell you begun to feel a fissure begin to form in your gut, if this power, this strength, was leaving you for good then the scales between victory and loss were shifting. You could feel it in your soul, that you wouldn’t be strong enough to kill Blackbeard on your own. Growling out you refocused your attention towards him once more. You needed to try. You could do it on you own. Your blazing talons struck his reinforced Haki with an ear-splitting clang, sending shock waves rippling across the cliff side. Blackbeard’s body created a chasm in the earth as the two of you went sliding across the terrain, sending debris and pirates scattering into the air. 
Blackbeard grinned through the impact, absorbing the force like it was nothing. He countered with a devastating swing, his arm crashing toward you like a falling mountain. You crossed your wings in front of you, barely deflecting the blow—but the sheer force sent you hurtling backward, carving a deep trench in the earth where you landed. You sputtered out cough after cough as you staggered to your feet. Gasping, you forced yourself upright, your breath ragged but steady. His newfound power was a nightmare, but you could see the cost in his unstable stance, the wild flicker in his Haki. Whatever drug he’d taken came with a price.
You remembered Devon and how that fucking hired pirate crew was a test group to measure how effective the drug was while in a fight. You could see it now. The pulsing aura that radiated from Blackbeard, the same aura that radiated from the more stronger pirates that were on the field. You wondered if Whitebeard knew? He had to or at least had a good idea of what the fight was all about. Hellish seas, he was also on the field that day. You guessed that without him and the other commanders and Shanks help you wouldn’t have been able to take that crew on.
That same drug still hadn’t been perfected. Even after all this time. You wondered how many pirate and Marine crews died under their testing. 
Don’t dwell on what you can’t control
You shifted, ready to move again.

Whitebeard watched from the jagged plateau, his heart alight with worry as he watched the collision of power below. He looked back up to the waning eclipse and saw that it was already almost over. The moon barely eclipsed half of the sun. With the fading of the eclipse felt that you too were fading as well, or at least the power your harbored. His grip on his halberd tightened as he waited, to see if you could make it out by yourself. He knew that much, that you craved to do it all alone. Yet, it was his duty, not only as captain, but as the only steady figure in your life to instill that fact into you— that you didn’t need to do it alone. However, he now realized that you needed to figure that out for yourself.
The commanders who were standing at the edge of the peninsula watched on as the light started to return to the world below. Most of them trying to gage just how desperate you were. Yet, as they saw you stand to your feet their worry subsided to a steady pulse. You were okay, you could withstand this for a little while longer.
Marco was a pacing mess. He watched, never leaving letting his eyes stray far from where you stood. You were a panting and sweaty mess. Your outfit in near ribbons as you glared at Blackbeard who laughed manically. He saw it thought, the staggering way in which Blackbeard stepped towards you. Whatever he injected into his body wasn’t compatible. It eroded his skin from the inside and seeped out of his eyes in a black viscous liquid. He needed to wait. He couldn’t come in just yet.
Ace’s flames were a billowing inferno that spread up his arms and around his back. It flickered and flared in the wind as he watched you stagger to your feet. He couldn’t let his sibling perish. He would, he wanted, to step in and help. 
That same feeling simmered like a wild and untamed beast across the faces of the other commanders. They all thought the same thing. They had taken you in, had trained you, had lived and laughed with you. Yet, each and every one of them knew that this was your fight.
The commanders needed to wait, they couldn’t step in just yet. 
They needed your word, your word alone.
Without it they could only watch and hope that you had the strength to overcome Blackbeard. They knew you had the resolve, but it alone wasn’t enough to overcome the stagger power that Blackbeard exuded.

You ignited your wings once more, their radiant glow defiant against the vibrant battlefield. Your heartbeat pounded, the thrum of your Phoenix power growing steadier, louder—ancient. This was it, this was your final bout of strength that would determine how the scales of this fight tipped.
You brought your fist up to your chest and closed your eyes as you pounded not once, but thrice, over where your heart was, as if asking it to keep beating steadily.
“Come on, I can do this.” You ushered out quietly, a silent prayed to whoever would listen. “One last time, I just need one last breath of resistance” you looked up to the sky and watched as the eclipse started to edge closer and closer to oblivion. Your time was running out.
On the third pound of your chest that radiant and thrumming power exploded from your chest and you grinned. One more bout of strength.
You looked back up to Blackbeard and saw that he was ginning as well.
Blackbeard charged again, fists cloaked in crushing shadows of haki. With a fierce cry, you launched forward, your flames and his darkness colliding in a clash that shattered the air and split the heavens. The clouds that had gathered split across the sky in a thin line before being blown apart. The sky was now clear.
This wasn’t just a fight.
It was survival.
And you would not fall.

The two of you came together in one final blow of power. Your talons sparks and sent out waves of conquerors haki across the field sending up chunks of debris. Blackbeard’s haki was the same, his own conquerors haki held a neon black glow while yours was an ethereal orange. They collided and bounded off of one another.
“Give it up, you’re going to die here on this beach!” Blackbeard yelled, venom dripping with head word.
“I will never die.” You ground out as you both were sent flying back. The two of you were quick to recover and charge again. Locked into another clash of wills you felt your heartbeat stutter again. You tried to ignore it. Yet this time, instead of being able to hold your own Blackbeard was pushing you back. 
“Ze-hahaha!” Blackbeard laughed like a man possessed as he brought back his arms and let you stumble forwards, you talons gripped into the ground below not willing to fall, but it was in that same instance that Blackbeard brought in a final swing to your chin. The impact sent you flying upwards. Blackbeard continued to follow through with his punches as he sent another one to your chest. It wasn’t as powerful but the impact still sent you flying.
The hit had sent you flying backwards into the ground with a loud thud as your haki crackled out around you. You were aware enough that your body hardened itself with haki to save you from the impact, but you were still rendered immovable. The ringing in your ears drowned out the roar of clashing Haki and the crash of shattered stone near you. You staggered, breath ragged as blood dripped from your split lip. Blackbeard stood before you, smirking triumphantly, his grotesque power swelling with each passing second.
The waning eclipse cast a dim, foreboding glow, the once-blazing strength of your Phoenix form fading. You could feel it slipping away, dragging you down like a relentless tide. The once fiery feathers that encompassed your body slowly fell away to the ground, going up in little flames. You stared up at Blackbeard as your mind tried to scramble for ways to divert his monstrous power.
“Zhe-hahaha, like I said, you’re going to die now.” He growled out as he cupped your battered and bleeding face into his sausage fingers. His breath of a stench so foul that it made you gag. Your feet scrambled to find purchase in solid ground but you realizes that you were dangling in the air. You hands clawing at rotten flesh. 
From the corner of your blurred vision, you spotted Marco and Newt—desperation etched into their faces. Marco’s fists clenched, his fiery wings twitching like they might spring him forward despite his exhaustion. Whitebeard loomed on the plateau, wounds forgotten, his grim expression betraying something deeper: absolute terror.
But it was Newt who moved first. His sharp gaze landed on the scattered vials among the wreckage of Blackbeard’s shattered crate. Without hesitation, he lunged, snatching a still-intact syringe.
"Newt, no!" you choked out, forcing your battered face toward him—but it was too late.
With a steadying breath, Newt plunged the needle into his arm. His face twisted in agony as the corrupting liquid coursed through his veins, darkening his skin with the same sinister sheen that coated Blackbeard's monstrous Haki.
Blackbeard loosened his grip on you for a moment as he stared at your brother with utter shock.
“You— I’ll kill you!” Blackbeard yelled. He dropped you to the ground and your body crumbled into the dirt.
"You wanted a fight, Teach?" Newt growled, his voice a low, feral snarl as dark energy crackled around him. "Let’s see if you can handle me."
He charged, closing the distance between himself and Blackbeard with terrifying speed. Their collision shook the plateau, sending shock waves across the battlefield. The sky groaned with the force of their impact as Newt met Blackbeard’s Haki-laden fists head-on.
You were coughing and sputtering out blood as you tried to clear your vision. With shaky hands you touched the ground, not wanting to fall just yet. Out of the dust you saw clashes of red haki and black. The two of them were fighting now. You tried to stagger to your feet as you continued to yell out Newt’s name. The thunderous clash of haki drowned out all sound as you watched with pure and utter terror as your brother fought with all his might.
"Damn fool!" Marco roared, flames flaring around him as he tried to move toward the fray, but then then sirens echoed off in the distance— It was the marines, that had finally arrived.
Whitebeard gasped when he took in the the array of ten ships on the horizon. He got to his feet and yelled down below to where his commanders stood.
“Namur, Ace, Marco, Thatch— Take care of them!” Whitebeard turned to his commanders on the plateau and gave them the same commands.
Marco was the first to hesitate, not wanting to leave you but the threat of ten marine ships looming on the horizon. Ten marine ships was a lot, and it meant only one thing. Whatever the marines knew, they didn’t want it leaving this island. Marco clenched his fists as he ordered his men to follow. Those under the four commanders command nodded fiercely and they left in a rush.
If this was what Marco thought it to be, he needed to stop it before it even began.
Before he could leave the peninsula Shanks had grabbed onto his shoulder. His brow was set in a furrow and lips in a tight line.
“You stay, my crew can take them on.” Shanks pointed to you and nodded his head. Marco looked between him and the looming fleet of marine ships. He was torn between listening to his captain and need to stay by your side.
“Don’t worry, this will be easy. We can take it from here.” Shanks reassured as Beckman and the rest of the Red-haired pirates gathered behind their Captain. Marco again hesitated. With a flicker of haki Shanks spoke again.
“You will stay with your mate.” The commanded rippled through Marco with an electric shock. He stared at Shanks, utter surprise rippling across his face before he nodded again. He swallowed thickly. He had no time to think about what Shanks just said. Without worry he turned back to the fight— to you.
Ace and Thatch turned to Marco, sending each other curious glances before they turned to their men and ordered them to follow Shanks and his men. Namur having already left decided it was best for him to help you by destroying the ten marine ships. His fleet of fish-men following after him in the raging sea. He looked back at his men and they smiled at him. They could easily take out the marine ships— especially with Shanks involvement.
You staggered to your feet, arms trembling as you watched Newt fight like a demon. Each strike he delivered burned with raw fury, a desperate resolve forged from love, loss, and an unyielding will to protect.
Your heart ached, torn between despair and fierce determination. You couldn’t let him shoulder this fight alone.
With a ragged breath, you spread your battered arms once more, flames flickering defiantly in the dying darkness of the eclipse. Yet despite your need to will your fruit to work it died within you. Your wings would not come. The thrum in your chest resurfaced, faint but persistent, echoing a single, unyielding truth:
You would not lose him.
You tried again and slow, ever so fucking slowly feathers started to appear. You were forcing your fruit beyond its limits.

The slow spread of your feathers felt like a damn century. Yet even as they grew they kept falling off. Tears welled in your eyes as you desperately tried to summon your fruit. 
“Come on, come on—“ you repeated over and over to yourself as you tried to keep summoning your fruit.
The waning of the eclipse was near its end, only a sliver of the move was left covering the sun as your eyes darted back to where Newt and Blackbeard were fighting.
The battle raged on in a frenzy of chaos—each strike from Blackbeard and Newt reverberated like thunder in the air. The peninsula, once solid and unwavering, now felt like the very ground was going to collapse beneath their feet. Newt’s desperate grunts echoed as he fought back against Blackbeard’s brutal onslaught, but the drug coursing through his veins was slowly tearing him apart. His movements were growing sluggish, his Haki faltering. Newt was not compatible enough with the serum, it ate away at him faster than it did with Blackbeard. When Newt faltered he cursed at himself.
Blackbeard, like a dark, twisted predator, seized his moment. With a grin that could crack the heavens, he lunged and grabbed Newt by the neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Newt’s limbs dangled, his body jerking uselessly, the poison coursing through him nearly rendering him helpless.
"Ze~hahahaha!" Blackbeard’s laughter filled the air, his voice like the crackling of burning wood. "Look at this, everyone! The mighty Newt—our one and only traitor—so weak he can't even fight his way out of a paper bag! You really thought you could take me down?"Blackbeard tightened his grip on Newts neck and Newt let out a straggled cry.
The sight of Newt, struggling in Blackbeard’s iron grip, was like a knife to your heart. Your breath hitched in your chest, panic clawing at your throat as you felt the energy of your devil fruit fade. The overwhelming strength you had felt moments ago was slipping away, and all you could see was the shit eating grin of Blackbeard—the monster who had taken everything from you.
This is it.
The power you had relied on was fading, and the fear that had been gnawing at you ever since you first stepped foot on this battlefield rose like a tidal wave. You couldn’t take Blackbeard on alone. You had no more strength left to give, and Newt—your only family left—was about to be crushed beneath the weight of Blackbeard’s malice.
The helplessness ripped through you. And in that moment, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.
"SOMEONE, PLEASE!" you screamed, voice cracking with desperation. "I can’t do this alone! I need help—please—someone!"
The world seemed to freeze for just a heartbeat, and then—
From behind you, a familiar flame accompanied by a void so dark rushed by you with a speed you couldn’t comprehend. Ace, Marco, and Thatch stepped forward, the air thick with their presence, their Haki overwhelming and powerful, like a wall of unshakable resolve. You gaped from behind them as they let their haki rippled across the battlefield.
Marco, his expression grim yet unwavering, stood tall in front of you. His wings, still glowing with that ever-present warmth, flared behind him, a fierce barrier against the darkness of Blackbeard. His voice was steady, yet filled with a conviction that cut through the chaos:
"We’ll always come when you call."
Ace, ever the fiery spirit, his usual smirk replaced by a hard, determined line, cracked his knuckles as he glanced at the enemy, a dangerous fire burning in his eyes.
"You are never alone, not while we still breath" he said, his words full of heat, ready for the battle ahead.
Thatch, with his usual mischievous grin, stepped forward beside them, his voice unwavering, as his shadows swirled like a vortex around him:
"Finally got it through your thick head? We’re never going to let anyone hurt you"
The three of them stood in front of you like a rock, their presence a powerful testament to the bonds you shared, the bonds of the Whitebeard Pirates. The overwhelming weight of family surrounded you, and with it, the promise that you were not alone.
Marco’s voice was firm, a calm amidst the storm: "We’ve fought together for too long. This ends now."
Newt, still gasping for air but alive, met your eyes for a brief second. There was gratitude and regret in his gaze as he struggled in Blackbeard’s grasp. Blackbeard watched with pure and utter despair as the three most powerful commanders of Whitebeard’s crew stepped up to him. Their haki challenging him. 
As you watched every tiny movement of Blackbeard’s fingers, the way they twitched and quivered with fear. Marco, Ace and Thatch were quick to move. Rushing Blackbeard with a flurry of light and shadow.
Your world seem to slow light and shadow moved through the air. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw those fingers twitch and go rigged.
No…
Marco, Ace and Thatch were going to be too slow. Blackbeard was cornered and Newt was his only way of maybe stopping the onslaught of power that was closing in fast.
No…
Blackbeard’s face went rigged with determination. He was going to gamble the chances of making them hesitate, making them stagger, for a chance to see an opening. An opening he would be with his right hand.
No… 
It was then you caught a glimpse of Newts watery eyes. A well of emotions swirled within them as his arms stopped grasping at rotten skin. His mouth moving, but nothing reached your ears. Newt held your eyes, he didn’t want you to see how those fingers around his neck tightened. Didn’t want you to see the way his throat caved in on itself. Didn’t want you to see the grin that split Blackbeard’s face in half.
The world seemed to collapse around you, a thick, suffocating blankness that filled the space between your thoughts, the heartbeat of your power fading with every second. But then—rage. Pain. A scream echoed deep within you, primal and unrestrained, as you watched Blackbeard’s hand, drenched in the blood of Newt, lift him high. The scene, the sight of your only family member—your brother—dying in front of you shattered everything.
For a moment, there was nothing but a dark, hollow void in your mind, a loss too great for words to describe. The rest of the battle around you felt distant, as if muffled by an impenetrable fog. Blackbeard’s laughter, the flames of battle, the cries of your comrades—all became a dull background noise to the blinding fury rising in your chest.
And then—
A whirlwind of fire and ash exploded outward from you, heat rolling off of you in waves. The power, raw and untamed, surged through your veins, demanding release, demanding vengeance. The skin on your back rippled and stretched as you collapsed to the ground. Your fists pounding into the dirt as you cursed out every single God in existence. 
I don’t want the world to turn without you
Hold me now, hold me like I never did anything to hurt you.
Don’t let go
I don’t want the sun to burn without you
I don’t want to live a life without you
You couldn’t feel anything, nothing at all. Not even the skin tearing and ripping apart the scars on your back as wings started to grow. The wings on your back beat, sending gusts of fire swirling into the air as you stood at the precipice of something beyond the realm of human comprehension.
The battlefield grew still. The chaos of the fight around you seemed to fade, and in the eerie silence, only one thought remained:
I will watch the world burn with out you.
Your eyes locked onto him. The hatred, the grief, the fire—all collided into one, a singular focus that drowned everything else. With a single, steady breath, your gaze flicked to the side. A harpoon, rusted with age but sharp as vengeance, was embedded into the rocky ground. 
“Hold him still!” you barked to the three men that were tangled in a mess of light and darkness. Blackbeard screaming as they begun to over power him.
Without another word, the three men moved without hesitation. They felt the haki rippled through them and seep into their bones as the command took hold. Ace held Blackbeard’s left hand and pulled it as tight as he could while Thatch too the right. Marco wrapped his right arm around Blackbeard’s neck pulling it back. The three of them strained Blackbeard’s body keeping it taught. Blackbeard was going nowhere in their grasps.
Your hands grasped the harpoon without hesitation, your fingers curling around the shaft.
The power that surged from you, in shadow and light, you let out a cry as you pulled the harpoon from the crusted earth that shook the heavens, you shouted: "I call to the heavens, the divine celestials of my time, hear me and bear witness as I show you the strength of your God's chosen right!"With those final words the eclipse had disappeared.
The words hung in the air like a divine challenge, and as your voice rang out, you threw the harpoon with all the strength that remained within you. It flew like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the air in a deadly arc, and in an instant, it pierced Blackbeard’s left shoulder, embedding deep into his flesh. In the same moment before impact all three moved out of the way.
The air froze.
Blackbeard was thrown backwards, the harpoon embedding itself into the base of the cliff, the force of the blow ripping a roar of agony from his throat. But you weren’t finished. Not yet.
And from above you, a booming crack split the air as Whitebeard jumped from the plateau, his halberd embedding into the cliff side to slow his descent. As his massive form landed, the force of his impact sent tremors through the earth, a wave of strength that shook the very foundation of the battlefield. He raised his hand, and in the next moment, the plateau itself began to crumble under his power.
The ground split apart, and with a devastating roar, massive chunks of the cliff side cascaded down upon Blackbeard and his crew, burying them in a torrent of rock and destruction. The scene before you was a chaotic tangle of dust, debris, and smoke, as the might of the Whitebeard Pirates and their Captain finally broke Blackbeard’s forces.
Blackbeard, now trapped under the crushing weight of the cliff side, struggled—his crew scrambling, but ultimately outmatched. The remaining pirates, unable to withstand the combined might of the Whitebeard Pirates, turned tail and fled, scattering like rats in a storm. Whitebeard, ever the merciful leader, didn’t pursue them. He let them go, watching them retreat into the distance.
The battlefield was quiet. The chaos was over. But you, still consumed by the flames of rage and grief, stood at the center, breathing heavily, the taste of Newt’s death still fresh on your tongue.
For now, the enemy was defeated, but the cost had been steep.
And as the dust settled, you looked up to the sky, your heart heavy with sorrow and vengeance. The battle was over—but you couldn’t help but feel like it was a loss.

Chapter Text

The dust from the battlefield still hung thick in the air, the echoes of battle fading into a heavy, eerie silence. The world felt still, as if the very earth itself had exhaled a weary sigh. The commanders, the Revolutionary Army, and the remaining allies were all picking up the shattered remnants of the fight. There was talk—arguments even—about what should be done with the haki enhancers, the vials of dark power that had been used to bolster Blackbeard’s strength. But it all felt distant, as if you were no longer tethered to the conversation.
You heard in the fray of voices that everyone avoided a potential buster call. It made your mind drowsy with questions as you wondered why the hell the marines would put in a buster call. You shook you head as you stood near the beach. Your fingers dug into warm skin as you tried to feel for that power that once thrummed in your chest. There was nothing. It was gone with the eclipse. The wings though, the ones that ripped from your back stayed. You couldn’t will them away this time. It was like they were permanent— they should have gone with the fading of the eclipse but they stayed. 
Your body, drained, was like a hollow shell, heavy with the weight of everything that had just transpired. The power from the battle, the rage, the grief—everything—was suddenly gone, leaving only the dull, aching exhaustion that made every movement feel like you were walking through thick mud. But even through that haze, there was one thing that remained clear, unwavering: Newt.
You still didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. How could he be gone? How could your brother—the one who had been by your side—be taken from you just like that?
Your legs faltered. The ground rose up to meet you, and before you could stop it, you crumpled to the earth. The world spun around you, a blur of shapes and sounds. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was the small, broken form of Newt lying still on the ground, and the sickening emptiness that gnawed at your chest. He had been laid with the other deceased. Shipwrights were making small boats in the distant. The sounds of hammers and nails a distant rumble.
“Newt...” you whispered, barely able to breathe the name, as the reality of it all started to settle in, suffocating you.
Before you could fall further, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you, lifting you up with a gentle yet firm grasp. Marco. His warmth, his strength, was all that kept you from completely breaking.
"Hey... I’m here," Marco's voice was soft but insistent, his breath warm against your ear. His wings, a fiery blaze of azure and gold, unfurled around you protectively, almost instinctively. He didn’t say anything else; he didn’t have to. He held you, close, steady, a comforting anchor in the midst of your storm.
But then, the others—they—came too close. Concern, curiosity, perhaps even pity flashed in their eyes. And that’s when the change happened.
With a sharp, unspoken warning, Marco's wings flared as his phoenix’s tail wrapped closer to you, pulling you closer into him. His flames flared with them, the heat rising to an intensity that made the air crackle. His eyes, fierce and protective, locked onto anyone who dared get too near. His form, as if responding to the depth of his need to protect you, shifted—a brilliant, fierce phoenix, the fiery embodiment of his devil fruit, burning with a passion that was now fully unleashed.
There was no mistaking the change in his demeanor. His protective instincts were roaring to the surface. The people, commanders, and allies alike, froze in their tracks. No one dared move closer. They all shared looks of understanding. They saw the fire in Marco's eyes—the unspoken bond between you and him. No one wanted to test the fire of the Phoenix. He would do anything to protect you.
It was then that Marco, in full, unrestrained form, continued to hold you in his arms, his flames licking the air around you. The sand beneath the two of you seemed to melt into glass as his flames burned everything, but never you. Every burn, every ache, every injury you had sustained in the fight began to fade under the warmth of his power. His flames didn’t scorch; they soothed. His fire, fierce and alive, wrapped around you like a protective cocoon, healing wounds and easing the crushing exhaustion from your body.
In that moment, you leaned into him, unable to stop the tears from spilling, though you didn’t fully understand why. Maybe it was the overwhelming grief. Maybe it was the relief that Marco was there, that he had come back for you, after all this time. But whatever it was, in that moment, you let it out—letting him take it all, holding you together.
And Marco? He didn’t let you go. Not for a second. Not until you were ready.

Your eyes closed as you hiccuped into Marco’s chest. Your hands grasping onto him as if you would fade away if you didn’t— you might too. The oppressive outcome of this fight had given you everything and nothing. It gave and it took. Always keep the shift of power in a cruel balance. His absence felt like a weight that crushed the air from your lungs, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. How could you? How could you leave him behind when everything was already falling apart?
You didn’t hear Whitebeard approach, not until he was there, towering beside you. 
“You need to let them go my son.” He soothed gently. His own heart weary and heavy from the days fight.
His massive hand, weathered and calloused, settled gently on Marco’s shoulder, and with a firm but careful motion, he eased the Phoenix away from you. Marco, snapped at his captain heating his flames further.
“It’s alright, I’ll take care of them.” Whitebeard spoke softly again. Marco wavered and then gave Whitebeard a reluctant but knowing glance before stepping back. His wings folded in as he watched you, his expression full of quiet concern and pain.
Whitebeard didn’t speak at first. He let the silence hang between you, the two of you alone in the aftermath of battle, surrounded by the chaos that had yet to settle. Slowly, he knelt down, his strength supporting him as he scooped you into his arms, lifting you gently but with the kind of care only a father could offer. You didn’t resist. Your body felt like it was made of stone, like you couldn’t even move if you tried. You were a lifeless shell.
When he pulled you close, his face near yours, his voice was low, steady, and filled with a kind of warmth you hadn’t felt in years. “Look at me,” Whitebeard’s voice was calm but firm, like a gentle storm. “I know this pain. I’ve seen too much loss in my time, and I know how it feels to think that everything you had is gone.”
You turned your head, but your eyes were unfocused, distant. You didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to face anyone. Didn’t want to see anyone else. You could barely bring yourself to acknowledge that he was even speaking to you.
“I can’t… I can’t do this again,” you whispered, the words barely breaking through the thick haze of grief. You had lost your brother once before, the pain felt just as great back then as it did now. Except this time, you knew he was gone for sure. There was no bringing him back. “There’s nothing left. No one left for me.”
Whitebeard didn’t flinch. He didn’t let the sadness in your words break him. Instead, he tightened his hold, his arms around you like a fortress.
“You will always have us,” he said, his voice a quiet thunder. “This banner, this crew, we’re your family. I will always be your pops, and no matter what happens, I’m here. You’re not alone in this.” The words echoed faintly in your mind as a new wave of tears racked your body. You could have this. You could. So you let those words settle into you like an anchor, grounding you into something stable for once in your life. No more running from what was right in front of you. You were a Whitebeard Pirate. You were apart of a family. Always had been, but you never let yourself acknowledge it.
His words were simple, but they pierced through the fog of grief, cutting through the numbness that had settled in your heart. You still couldn’t bring yourself to speak further, but something inside you—a spark that had been buried deep within your soul—started to stir.
Whitebeard held you, letting you cry as the weight of it all came crashing down. His warmth surrounded you, and in that moment, you felt it—the family. The love that had been missing for so long, the connection that you had never allowed yourself to have because of the walls you’d built. But now, with him, with this crew, something deep inside of you finally cracked open.
You leaned into him, your body trembling, your heart breaking and healing in the same breath. “I don’t know how to accept this,” you said softly, your voice raw, “how to accept you.”
Whitebeard’s grip tightened ever so slightly, and he smiled softly, his rough face etched with kindness. “You don’t have to accept anything, not yet. But know this: I will always accept you into this family. And no matter what, I’ll protect you like I’ve protected my children for years. You’ll never have to face the world alone again.”
The weight of his words, the truth in them, wrapped around you like a blanket, heavy with meaning and love. Slowly, piece by piece, you allowed yourself to believe it. That you weren’t alone. That, despite everything you’d lost, there was still a place for you here. In this family. With these people.
And in that moment, you realized—you were home.
 In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. 
Where you invest your love, you invest your life.

The horizon was painted with the deep oranges and reds of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the battlefield, now quiet and still. The sounds of battle had faded, replaced by a heavy silence that hung over the island. The air smelled of saltwater, smoke, and blood—the cost of victory lingering in the atmosphere. As the bodies of the fallen were gathered, the solemn task of preparing them for their final journey began.
The commanders and allies worked in quiet unity, their faces grim and weary from the ordeal. Each person carried out their part with respect, their hands skilled from years of fighting, now being used to sew the deceased into their shrouds. The dead were treated with dignity, their bodies carefully wrapped in cloth. A cannonball, heavy and cold, was placed at their feet, a mark of their journey to the afterlife.
You stood at the edge of the gathering, your hands trembling slightly as you took in the ritual. Whitebeard had left you to your own thoughts for the moment, allowing you to find your own space among the crew. The weight of what had just transpired, the loss, the pain, was still pressing down on your chest. But now, you couldn’t ignore the task at hand. The fallen needed to be honored.
As each body was prepared, the final touch was to sew their noses shut. It was an old custom, a way of ensuring that their soul wouldn’t follow the living, but instead, would find its place among the ocean stars and the sky above. You watched as the work was done with reverence, the faces of the fallen hidden beneath their shrouds. Their sacrifice would not be forgotten.
You walked to a hidden section of the peninsula that hadn’t been decimated by the war and you found a small meadow of flowers. Slowly, moving as if you were a kid searching for the right ones, you sought out the prettiest flowers. Memories of better days in that mansion lingered at the forefront of your mind as you plucked ferns and flowers. You had done this as a kid while your brother lingered around you, always following you around, curious to see what you were doing. When you had gathered enough you begun to slowly wrap stem around stem creating a wreath. Your brother always loved wearing them as a crown yelling excitedly how he would become king of the mansion one day.
You smiled softly as you remembered those last few good memories from your previous life. 
Once finished you took the wreath back to the line of bodies that were now being placed into the makeshift boats. Emblems of their crews lay on their chests. You searched for the crest that was worn by your brother and once you found it you took in an unsteady breath. You clutched the wreath closer to the chest before laying it on his body. 
“Thank you for being my brother, but your journey with me ends here. I’ll always carry you with me.” You stepped back from his body and took you place in the line of others gathered. Marco handed you a bow and arrow and  you took it with a small smile.
Ace stood at the forefront of the ceremony, his expression as serious as ever. With a steady hand, he lit the first arrow, the flames licking the edge of the shaft. The others followed suit, lighting their arrows one by one. The heat from the flames was a stark contrast to the cool evening air, and it filled the atmosphere with a tense but necessary energy. One by one down the line everyone raised their blazing arrows to the sky as each tiny boat got carried out to sea. Their final voyage before entering into the long night.
The procession of arrows launched into the air, each one soaring high before falling towards the ocean, where they landed on the bodies, setting them alight. The flames flickered and danced, casting an eerie glow over the sea. It was a moment of finality, the flames representing both destruction and rebirth, as the ships and bodies were sent back to the ocean from which they came.
As the last of the bodies sailed away, a collective sigh passed over the gathered crew. The battle was over, but the mourning had only just begun. You could feel the grief of the others, the weight of the loss pressing heavily on everyone. Yet, there was a sense of peace in the air, the ceremony offering a bittersweet closure.
Standing among the crew, with Marco by your side and Whitebeard nearby, you watched as the ships burned, the last traces of the fallen disappearing into the sea. The sun was almost gone now, leaving only the cool dark of twilight behind. You couldn’t help but feel a part of you shift in that moment. A bond had been formed, not just with Whitebeard and the crew, but with the very sea that carried away the bodies of the fallen. While the sea may not rescue you and find fault in the devil fruit you were forced to consume, it still was merciful enough to hold those you cared about.
You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, you felt that you had a place here, among the flames and the water, in this family that you finally admitted as your own.
“Rest well,” you whispered, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves. “Until we meet again.”
And with that, you watched as the last of the ships disappeared into the horizon, the world shifting into night.

Chapter Text

You stayed and stared out into the horizon long after the ships had been burned. Your brother was gone, and with him, the fragile connection you had to a world that now felt foreign and distant. You stared at the hazy line that connected sea to sky and wondered about your family. For the first time in a long you allowed yourself to wonder what had come of your parents, where they may be, if they somehow managed to climb back up from the rubble or if they succumbed to some other type of cruel fate. In that moment of overwhelming grief, something stirred within you. It wasn’t just sorrow; there was a shift, a beckoning of something more. It was almost cruel to think that any tether to your previous life was now gone and in that you finally were somehow free from your past. It didn’t erase the torture, but it finally made you feel some semblance of freedom.
Whitebeard had let the ceremony play out without interference, his presence felt but never forceful. He had known what you needed, what everyone needed, even if you hadn’t quite understood it yourself. Now, as the last remnants of your brother’s crew stood in solemn silence, there was a recognition in Whitebeard’s eyes—a knowing that this was the moment you needed.
Whitebeard, after a beat of silence, walked up to you. He stood beside you and placed his large warm hand on your head. A soft smile pulling at his lips.
"While you have your place on this crew," he spoke, his voice heavy but gentle, reaching you through the darkened air. "I will not deny you the chance to explore. To lead, and to become what you were always meant to be."
You turned to face him, his towering figure casting a long shadow over you. His gaze softened, his usual gruff demeanor absent as he regarded you with something akin to understanding.
“Your brother’s crew…” Whitebeard continued, “They’re without a captain. They will need guidance to get them back to their base. It’s not just an opportunity for you to spend the final moments with Newt’s memory... it’s a chance to prove yourself. To lead them. To show that you can carry the weight of command.”
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you like a mantle. The task was monumental. Not only were you grieving, but now you were expected to guide a crew—your brother’s crew, no less—through the very world he had once navigated with them. It was a responsibility you didn’t know if you were ready for. You had always thought you were meant to be subservient to others but the thought of being the one to carry them, to give them direction when everything felt so uncertain, felt like a challenge you couldn’t refuse.
Is made the spark you already felt in your core heat up with purpose.
“I don’t know, how do I lead?” you asked quietly, your voice steady, though your heart ached with the thought of leading a crew— Newt’s crew.
“The only way to find out is to do it. You’ll make mistakes along the way, but I believe you got what it takes.” He reassured as he removed his hand from your head.
“Let’s also not forget about your little adventure to the facilities in the forest!” Whitebeard had let out ahearty laugh, his head tilting backwards. “You did good in returning those young bucks to Major Keller. In doing so they were able to successfully dismantle the entire monopoly.”
A blush formed on your face as you remembered those young men. You had helped them in their time of need and had done so successfully. You already had a small sample of what you could do if you lead the remaining members of Newt’s crew back to the base.
Whitebeard’s expression was unreadable for a moment, then he nodded, a slow, deliberate gesture that held all the weight of his years of experience.
“I’ve already contacted Dragon he knows you’re coming.” he affirmed. “I’ve kept you long enough on my ship, the only you’re bound to now is you own freedom. You can go. Explore the world. Find the path that calls to you. And when you return, I hope it is with pride and purpose.”
Your gaze fell to the sand beneath your feet. The world suddenly felt wide, daunting even. The idea of stepping into your brother’s shoes, of carrying the mantle of leadership, felt overwhelming. But there was also something stirring deep inside you—a strength, a resolve. You could do this. You would do this.
“I’ll do it,” you said, your voice firmer now, the resolve beginning to solidify in your chest. “I’ll guide them. I’ll bring them back to their base. And when then I’ll spend some time traveling the seas, then when the time comes, I’ll come back home.”
Whitebeard gave you a silent nod, then turned to Marco, who had been standing nearby, his expression one of deep concern. Marco’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something in them—an unwavering support, an unspoken promise. But as his gaze lingered on you, he stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something more intense.
"Birdie..." Marco’s voice was quiet but insistent. "I won’t let you do this alone. Not after everything we’ve been through. Please, let me travel with you. Let me help you guide them, and help you... through everything."
Whitebeard shifted on his feet and nodded towards Marco. A silent blessing to let Marco travel with you.
There was a rawness in his tone, a vulnerability that you hadn’t heard from him before. Marco had always been strong, steady, the rock you leaned on when the world felt too heavy. But now, in the face of your grief, his willingness to stand by you, to fight alongside you no matter the cost, made your heart swell with something deep and unspoken.
You looked at him, at the depth of the connection between you that had grown over the years. And despite the weight of the task ahead, despite the uncertainty that loomed over both of you, there was a sense of certainty that rooted itself within you.
“I… I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.
Marco’s face softened into a smile, the warmth in his eyes a balm for the ache inside you. "Then we’ll do it together."
Whitebeard watched the exchange with a knowing look, his eyes flicking between you and Marco. His massive hand reached out, resting on your shoulder in a moment of reassurance.
“Then go,” he said, his voice gruff yet kind. “Lead them. Show them who you are."
You nodded, feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. This was your path now—your responsibility, your freedom. And with Marco at your side, you felt more ready than you ever thought possible. Together, you would guide Newt’s crew, honor his memory, and carve a new future on the vast, unforgiving seas.
The sun was setting, casting its final rays over the horizon. The world felt full of promise, of endless horizons waiting to be discovered. And in that moment, you felt something within you ignite—a new beginning, one forged in the fire of loss, the heat of battle, and the strength of the family you had chosen.

Leaving the beach, with Marco and Whitebeard in tow, you walked back to the large group of remaining allies and Revolutionaries. Izou was the first to greet you with open arms, wrapping you up in his embrace.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”He whispered into your ear and you hugged him tighter.
“Thanks Izou.” You ushered back quietly. 
It was then the rest of the commanders had walked up to you and each gave you a hug or a strong squeeze on the shoulder. They all knew what loss felt like and had sympathy for you. It was reassuring and slowly the void in your heart felt less cold, less like grief. You knew it wasn’t going to leave you, but with the crew, your family, you knew you could carry it with you—Marco assured you of it when he too brought you into his embrace.
It was then that the air around you crackled with tension as the revolutionaries and allies bickered back and forth over the Haki enhancers. The conversation had turned into a war of words, each faction voicing their opinion with heated passion. Some argued that the enhancers should be synthesized, distributed, and used to give their forces an advantage over any future threats, while others insisted that they should be reserved only for the battle-tested warriors who had fought alongside them. There were also those who felt the enhancers should be destroyed entirely, fearing the corruption it could bring to the hearts of pirates, further eroding the very spirit of piracy.
You stood there, feeling the weight of the discussion bearing down on you. Every word felt like it added to the weight of the future decisions that hung over the crews. The debate was spiraling, more about power and control than what was best for the future of the crews. The voices of your comrades grew louder, echoing the uncertainty and discord among them. You could feel your patience wearing thin as the minutes dragged on.
Curiel was speaking now, his voice deep with authority, extolling the potential benefits of using the enhancers. "We can grow stronger! We can rival any fleet! We’ll never have to face defeat again!" His words were met with nods from some, but to you, they were nothing but hollow promises built on shaky ground.
In that moment, something inside of you snapped. Enough was enough. You couldn’t sit by any longer, letting this discussion drag on with no resolution. With a sharp movement, you marched over to where Curiel’s bazooka had been set aside and grabbed it with a firm grip.
Izou and Ace looked at you curiously. Izou in particular finding it hard to keep his smirk hidden as Curiel turned to you shocked. His bazooka was his baby and no one touched it.
The weapon felt heavy in your hands, its power unmistakable, but in your rage, it felt like a tool for righteousness. Without hesitation, you pointed the bazooka at the remaining crates of Haki enhancers stacked in the corner, your arm steady despite the chaos that had built up around you.
With a loud, deafening boom, the bazooka roared to life, sending a blast of force through the air. The crates exploded, the contents scattering in a burst of fire and smoke. The peninsula fell silent as the debris settled, the remnants of the enhancers now destroyed, reduced to nothing but ash and shrapnel.
The silence that followed was thick, the shock of what you had just done hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. The revolutionaries and allied crews stared at you, some with wide eyes, others with disbelief, and some with anger. The debate was over, but it had ended in the most violent way possible. You puffed your chest and let out a breath of air.
"You want to talk about power?" you shouted, your voice unwavering as you addressed the crowd, Curiel’s bazooka slung over your shoulder. "If you can't win on the seas with your own strength, then maybe your pirating days are over." You took a step forward, Curiel taking this opportunity to snatch back his bazooka, the flames of your conviction flickering in your eyes. "If any of you want to become legends of the sea or even King for that matter, you must do it properly, without manufactured aid. We’re pirates, not slaves to some artificial advantage. Earn your strength through what this world has already given us."
The tension in the air was palpable, but in the wake of your words, the room grew eerily quiet. Even the fiercest voices had been silenced, the weight of your declaration sinking into their hearts. They knew what this meant: there were no shortcuts to true power. Only by facing the world with what you had, by relying on your own skill and strength, could they earn the right to lead.
And then, amidst the quiet, Whitebeard let out a loud, booming laugh. The sound of his mirth echoed through the room, deep and genuine. He stepped forward, his massive form looming over you, his grin wide with pride.
“You’ve got fire, daughter,” Whitebeard said, his voice rough but approving. “Ain’t nobody here can question that.” His hand clapped down onto your shoulder with enough force to nearly knock you off your feet. “I’ve got no doubt you’ll lead this crew well. Just don’t forget that you don’t need to do it alone.”
The others, now realizing the gravity of your stance, began to murmur amongst themselves. The fire you had sparked had changed the direction of the conversation, and now, more than ever, they understood the weight of what you had done.
The Haki enhancers were gone, and the debate about their use had ended. You had chosen a path, a path that would not rely on shortcuts, on artificial means to gain strength. It would be the path of true pirates—the kind that forged their power through their own hands and hearts, not through something someone else had given them.
And with Whitebeard’s approval, the crew knew that the future had been set into motion. There would be no more dependence on outside forces. From here on out, they would have to face the seas with their own strength, just as pirates were meant to.

After your dramatic show the revolutionaries, allied crews and your family dissipated into the night. Everyone wanted a good and hearty meal to ease the ache of the days fight. Everyone had earned a full belly and ale. 
You found yourself back on The Moby Dick with everyone that came out of this fight alive. There was chatter and stories of everyones fight— with little room for the realness of it all. Everyone was a warrior who had the strength of a million men.
Liars… you thought with smile as you overheard all of their stories. 
There was one story that was being passed around to those who were left unconscious during the fight. It was about you and you display of power when the eclipse had appeared. The story generated a buzz throughout the room that was almost palpable. Everyone at one point or another sent you looks of pure shock or bewilderment. They couldn’t believe what had transpired on that peninsula when you faced off Blackbeard.
You weren’t sure of the specifics of the tale they were weaving around your fight but you were sure there was more than enough embellishment that would have had Newt rolling in his watery grave.
The warmth of the evening’s feast, lovingly prepared by Thatch, had done much to comfort you. Marco's presence had also become your anchor. Marco was an endless blur when Thatch was preparing dinner. He was in mother hen overdrive and had not stopped to let you breath. He was practically catering to your every request, despite not really asking for much. It made your heart swell and made you feel a little uneasy with how much he wanted to take care of you. It was such a contrast to the usually stoic man you knew him to be. And with each action he did it made that tugging sensation come alive.
He hovered near you, a perpetual flame of quiet care. His hands never seemed idle—bringing you a plate, making sure you had enough water or ale, mostly ale, and also offering soft reassurances with a squeeze of your hand.
"Eat, Birdie," Marco urged gently, setting down a dish of grilled fish before you. The rich, smoky aroma filled the air. "Thatch worked hard on this, and you need your strength."
You gave a small smile as you gratefully took the plate from him. Picking at the meal, you sighed, your mind finally unwinding from the stress of the day. It was almost comical to think that it was all over now, just like that. Tomorrow would be another day. And while it felt nice to finally move on, it was also difficult to remember that Newt wouldn’t be there with you.
Later, as the crew retreated into the night and silence fell over the ship, Marco remained by your side. The two of you sat under the stars on the deck, a lantern's soft glow casting warm light across your faces. Marco's wings flickered briefly in the darkness, their azure hue reminding you of something holy, protective. You own wings on your back ruffled, some feathers falling out. Your fruit sometime between the beginning of dinner and now had decided to reemerge— pulled out by the same tugging you felt when you were close to Marco. You knew now, for sure, that these wings were your devil fruit and not the remaining effects of what had transpired under the eclipse. Your devil fruit wanted to keep them out, as if it sensed the coming freedom and couldn’t contain itself. You were more than happy to let that happen. I steady reminder that you deserved this after everything.
"I can’t stop thinking about him," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Marco’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Tell me about him.”
A bittersweet smile crossed your lips. “Newt… he was everything good before things turned bad. When we were kids, we’d spend hours playing in the garden. It was enormous, filled with every flower you could think of. He always loved the wild roses. I used to pick them for him, even though I hated the thorns.” You laughed quietly, a sound laced with sadness. “We thought those days would last forever.”
Marco hummed softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your arm.
“But then Dad…” You paused, your throat tightening. Marco’s grip on you firmed, steady and unyielding. “Dad wanted power. He wanted something that would secure the families legacy, his legacy, and I was the perfect pawn. I didn’t get a choice, Marco. He forced me to eat that fruit.”
Your voice cracked, and Marco held you closer. “I remember the taste—it was bitter, awful. I was sick for days afterward, but Dad didn’t care. He only cared about what I could do. And Newt… he couldn’t even look at me after that. I think it broke him, seeing me turned into something Dad could use.”
Marco’s voice was soft but filled with conviction. “He didn’t hate you, Birdie. He hated what your father did. There’s a difference.”
“I don’t know if it matters,” you murmured. “Newt grew so distant. The garden, our adventures, the way he used to laugh—it all disappeared. And now…” You hesitated, your hand instinctively brushing against his hand. “It feels liberating to not have any connection to it all now, but Newt, he was the only family that tried to reach out, to find me after I left. Our childhood was stolen from us.” You let out a breath of air as you looked down to the grain in the wood.
Marco tilted your chin up, his cobalt gaze locking onto yours. “You’re more than your past, Birdie. And more importantly you’re more than what your father forced you to become. It doesn’t change who you are. And I’ll be here to remind you of that, every step of the way.”
Tears streamed down your face as you buried it in Marco’s chest, his embrace a shield against the weight of your grief. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his voice a quiet balm.
“I’ve got you,” Marco whispered. “Always.”
In his arms, the heaviness in your chest began to lift, if only slightly. You weren’t sure if you could ever reclaim the pieces of yourself that had been lost, but with Marco beside you, it felt possible. Perhaps, like the roses Newt had loved so dearly, you could learn to bloom again.

Chapter Text

As the first light of dawn slowly creeps over the horizon, you find yourself standing among your crewmates, preparing to set sail once again. The wind carries the salt of the sea, and the promise of freedom lingers in the air, thick with anticipation and possibility. The battle is over, but for you, the true journey is only beginning. Taking in a deep breath you look to the sky and let the rush of air brush your face. You closed your eyes and relished in the heat of the sun and brush of cool air. There was always balance. And if you strained your ears enough you could faintly hear a familiar laughter whispered in the depths of the wind that blew by you. You smiled and then let out a soft giggle. He was out there, you just knew it.
When you open your eyes you turn and see that Whitebeard stands at the edge of the ship’s deck, his towering frame silhouetted against the rising sun. In the soft light, he seems smaller somehow, the weight of the past few days etched into the lines of his face. Yet there’s something else in his gaze—something softer, almost fatherly. As the crew moves around him, taking their positions, he turns to face you. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes searching yours as if seeking the words he needs to say.
You stand a few paces away, readying yourself for the voyage ahead. Though your body is healing, the wounds left by your brother’s death remain raw, a pain that feels too deep to ever fully mend. Still, the promise of the open sea, of carving your own path, stirs a spark of purpose within you—a sense of freedom you haven’t felt in a long time.
His deep voice cuts through the quiet, gentle but firm. “Before we leave, I need to speak with you.”
You meet his gaze, noting the gravity in his words. Over the past days, your bond with Whitebeard has deepened, transcending the already relationship you had with him. He has become something more—a father figure, though neither of you has spoken it aloud. It’s unspoken, but undeniable. And for once you let it fill you up with a warmth that eased the already softening edges of the void where Newts death carved into you.
“You’ve earned your place here, under this flag, as part of this family,” he begins, his voice steady, carrying the weight of years of experience. “That is not something that can be taken from you.”
You nod, appreciating his reassurance, though doubt still lingers in the corners of your heart. You’ve never been able to fully embrace the idea that you belong here. Something—fear, uncertainty—has always held you back. Yet, slowly, you were working on those feelings. You’ve already accepted and worked on them for awhile now. You were just sometimes so stubborn with yourself it sometimes felt like it was impossible. Not any more though.
“I never wanted to be caged,” you admit softly, your eyes drifting to the horizon. “My whole life has been one cage or another. However, when I was presented with the choice of freedom I became scared because I didn’t know who I would be, who I would become.”
Whitebeard takes a step closer, his gaze softening. “I understand. I had made one of the most regrettable choices in my life by keeping you by my side, tried to contain you when I should have let you grow. That was my mistake.” He pauses, his voice heavy with sincerity. “I tried to make you follow orders, to fit into a mold I thought was right for you. But that was never my place to decide.”
His words catch you off guard, and you blink at him, surprised by the genuine apology. “You didn’t have to say that,” you murmur. “I was just… I didn’t want to let go of my past but I also didn’t want to embrace it either— to forget it ever happened.”
His large hand rests gently on your head, grounding you in the moment. “You were a stubborn brat, foolish to boot too, but now I don’t think I would have it any other way. You’ve certainly grown into a much more determined pirate, and with that you’re ready to face the world. I’m sorry for delaying the process, but now your freedom is yours to claim.”
The weight of his words settles in your chest, bringing an unexpected comfort. You smiled and move to wrap you arms around his leg hugging him despite his large form. He laughed and picked you up and set you on his shoulder. The two of you looked out into the horizon where you ship laid, waiting with the crew you would deliver back to Dragon.
“Thank you,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you. “And I promise—I’ll try to be less reckless out at sea. I want to return home, truly, I want to come back to this family.”
Whitebeard nods, his expression soft as his gaze meets yours. “You better, you’re taking my first commander with you.” He let out a hard laugh as you snickered. That was true, you were taking Marco with you so technically if you did decide to never come back you would be forced to. Stealing a Yonko’s crew member certainly wasn’t something you wanted to do.
“Thank you,” you say again, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
A rare smile crosses Whitebeard’s face. “It’s my honor, little one. Now, go. The world is waiting for you.”
As you hope off of his shoulder and glide down to the deck you step toward the bow of the ship, the weight of your decision settles into something lighter, something that feels like hope. You have a place here, but more than that, you have the freedom to shape your own future.
The sea stretches out before you, vast and limitless. For the first time in a long while, you feel as though you can finally breathe.

The patched-up Revolutionary Army ship creaked under your feet, the faint sway of the tide tugging it gently away from the Whitebeard Pirates’ grand vessel. The contrast between the two was almost comical—one a behemoth of strength and pride, the other a humble, nearly forgotten craft given a second life. Its plain white sail fluttered above you, unmarked and inconspicuous, though it seemed to hum with the weight of the journey ahead.
You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you turned back to the crew you called family. They stood at the edge of the deck, a sea of familiar faces you had come to love with every fiber of your being. They were smiling, encouraging you, but their smiles held an edge of sadness, the same kind of sadness you felt clawing at the edges of your resolve.
"Take care of yourself out there!" Haruta shouted, waving with both hands like a child seeing off a parent. "And don’t forget to come back!"
“Yeah!” Thatch added, his grin impossibly wide despite the tears shining in his eyes. “We’ll be waiting with a feast, so don’t keep us hanging!”
“I also packed your own bazooka so you’re not tempted to steal mine again!” Curiel shouted with a shit eating grin. You smiled softly and tucked that piece of information into the back of your mind for later. You would have fun with a bazooka.
You wanted to laugh, wanted to say something lighthearted in return, but your throat felt too tight, too full of the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. Instead, you nodded, forcing a wider but wavering smile as you took a step back onto the ship.
Then your gaze caught his. Shanks.
He was on the bow of the Red Force, cape fluttering in the wind, but his expression was anything but casual. His eyes, sharp and knowing, locked onto yours, seeing past the brave face you wore. He tipped his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the uneasy storm brewing inside of you inside you. Shanks then jumped from his ship and landed with a hard thud on yours. You drew you hands into the air as you gave him an incredulous look.
“Careful, she’s fragile!” You spoke as you shook your head towards him. He just let out a hearty laugh and walked towards you.
“I thought you’d be used to goodbyes by now,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. There was a teasing lilt to his words, but his gaze betrayed his seriousness.
You chuckled, but it came out more like a choked breath. “Guess I’ve gotten too comfortable. Maybe too spoiled.” You had been apart of Whitebeards crew for a decade now and leaving them made your gut twist and turn with unease. It was true, you were spoiled. But you had to leave, return this crew back the revolutionary base and then go explore and find out what you were truly made of.
Shanks moved, his boots ringing softly against the deck. “You’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you think.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “And if you’re not, you’ve got Marco to keep you out of trouble.”
At the mention of Marco, you turned to glance at the phoenix, who still was on the Moby talking to Whitebeard about something. It was like he felt your gaze and he turned from Whitebeard and towards you, a small tilt of his lips before he returned back to the conversation at hand. His presence was a quiet anchor, a reminder that you weren’t truly alone on this venture.
“That’s true,” you said softly, your lips quirking into a real smile this time.
Shanks chuckled, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your shoulder. “Remember, it’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let it stop you.”
You nodded, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “Thanks, Shanks.”
With a final squeeze of your shoulder, he stepped back, giving you the space to board fully. The ship rocked as Marco moved beside you, his familiar weight at your side offering a sense of safety you desperately needed. He didn’t say much—he never did in moments like these—but the quiet assurance in his presence was enough.
You then saw Marco shift into his phoenix form an take off from The Moby Dick and glide down to yours. In his talons was a piece of paper— a map. 
“You finally ready to head out birdie?” He asked as he shifted back into his human form. 
“I am, how long till we arrive at Baltigo?” You asked as you took the map from Marco and opened it up. There were little circles scattered across the grandline and you gave him a quizzical look. Marco swiped the map from you and smiled before ruffling you hair.
“A few weeks at best.” He affirmed as he went to the helm of the ship and ordered the men to prepare to set off.
Shanks gave you one last smile before jumping from your ship to his. The boat rocked in the waters and the crew that was working grumbled out in protest but regained their footing.
As the sails caught the wind and the ship began to pull away, your crew erupted into cheers and waves, their voices carrying over the water. “See you soon!” they called. “Don’t take too long!”
You gripped the railing, your knuckles white, and watched them until the distance turned them into blurred figures on the horizon. Anxiety still churned in your gut, but as Marco stood silently beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, a small ember of determination sparked within you.
This wasn’t the end. It was just another beginning. And no matter what awaited you at the Revolutionary Army’s base, you’d find your way back to them. You had to.

As the ship sailed farther away from the chaotic remnants of the battlefield, the crew began to settle into the rhythm of the open sea. The wind carried the scent of salt and adventure, and though the mood was somber after the loss of Newt, there was a palpable sense of forward momentum. Each member of the Scipio Flame moved with purpose, their resolve strengthened by the trials they had endured together.
You stood at the bow, gazing out at the endless horizon. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden light across the sea. Marco had positioned himself nearby, watching over them quietly, his eyes betraying his constant concern. But you had managed to find a sense of calm amidst the turmoil, your thoughts wandering to what lay ahead. A life of freedom, of choice.
Suddenly, the quiet was interrupted by the distinctive fluttering of a News Coo, its wings beating through the air before landing on the ship’s mast. It carried a rolled-up newspaper, its weight promising important news from across the seas.
Marco nodded to you, indicating the bird. With a sigh, you approached the mast and gently took the note, unrolling it with a swift motion. As you scanned the headlines, the first story that caught their eye was about the Strawhat Pirates making it to Sabaody Archipelago. Their bounties had been updated once more—significantly higher. The words "Strawhat Luffy" flashed in front of them, accompanied by images of his increasingly notorious crew. A small smile tugged at the corners of their lips as they read about their progress.
You eyes then bugged out of your skull as you saw your own face, along with everyone else of the Whitebeard Pirates. 
“Well shit…” you muttered as Marco stepped up beside you.
“What is it?” he asked.
You turned to him and smiled as you showed him the increased bounties over everyone's names. Marco brushed a hand through his hair and let out a laugh.
“Well shit indeed, however, yours has increased the most I think.” Marco pointed to your face and you nodded. It had indeed went up by several million berries at that too. 
“I suppose it was about time, the news papers were wondering where I had been.” You let out a soft laugh as you kept looking through the news paper.
However, the real shock came when you continued reading. As you unfurled the next section of the paper, a brief story about a disgraced former Celestial Dragon caught their attention. The report mentioned the fallen noble being spotted on a remote island in the New World. The name of the island wasn’t familiar, but the details surrounding the story piqued something deep within you.
And then you saw it. The name that would forever change the course of your thoughts.
"Disgraced Lady Kobayashi."
The name hits you like a wave, as if the world itself has shifted beneath your feet. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickens. You stare at the words, feeling a cold rush of realization wash over you.
Your mother—the one you wanted to believe to be dead for so long—is alive.
All this time, you had assumed your mother had perished in the same flames that consumed your father’s legacy. But here, in black and white, is the mention of her name—a name you haven’t heard in years. Lady Kobayashi. Once uttered with reverence, now tied to disgrace and shame.
The revelation is a punch to the gut. The implications are too large to grasp all at once. How can she be alive? Why wasn’t you father mentioned? And why of all places did she decide to live of a small island? Well, that one was simple really. You remembered their fall from grace when you had left the last celestial dragons mansion long ago. Yet, you still thought that they would have found a life living on the red line, not on some noname island in the New World.
Your fingers tremble as you hold the paper, the edges crinkling under your grip. You try to process it—try to think through the years of silence, the unanswered questions, the lies you were told as a child. But nothing makes sense now. The life you thought you knew—the life that was shattered by your father’s betrayal—is still tied to you. Just when you thought you could finally breath from it all it came crashing back into you.
Marco, sensing the sudden shift in your mood, steps forward. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his concern clear. “What’s wrong?”
You don’t immediately respond. You just stare at the paper, lost in the swirling thoughts and emotions that have been awakened. Marco waits patiently, understanding the weight of what’s about to be revealed.
Finally, you speak, your voice strained with disbelief. “My mother... she’s out there, Marco.”
The words feel foreign, unreal even, as they leave your lips. Marco’s expression falters for a moment, surprised by the weight of the revelation. He sees the storm brewing in your eyes—a mix of anger, confusion, and pain.
“You didn’t think—” Marco begins, but his voice trails off, unsure of how to comfort you.
You shake your head, still processing the information. “No. I thought she was dead, or wanted to believe she was. They betrayed me by selling me off, and I thought with Newts passing I could finally be free from it all.” Something in you shifted once more and you were overcome with sorrow and a longing to see her again.
The revelation sits between you like a vast ocean, each unspoken word sending ripples through your heart. A mother, alive and living in the New World, where danger and lawlessness reign. It’s too much to take in, yet impossible to ignore.
“We need to find out more,” you murmur, your resolve hardening. “If she’s out there, I need to understand why.”
Marco nods, but his brow is furrowed with unease, he could understand why you wanted to see her but he also didn’t understand just how big of a weight you carried with your past. There was one thing though, he would carry it with him if you asked. “We’ll figure it out. But don’t let it consume you just yet. We still have a long journey ahead.”
You look up at him, the chaos of the past few days finally catching up to you. You nod slowly, but the fire has already been lit. The search for answers has begun.
As the ship sails into the unknown, the sea stretches out before you, vast and filled with mystery. But one thing is now more certain than ever—you need to uncover the truth and settle this uneasy feeling beginning to grow in your but. You wanted to hate her, to curse out, but there were also old emotions bubbling to the surface. She was still your mother, right?
This journey, both across the seas and within yourself, is only just beginning.

Chapter Text

“I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once. ”

I have arrived at my deepest revelation for my desires. A realization I don't think I would have reached without everything that's happened around me. To embody abundant love and unwavering passion, and to bestow these upon others in equal measure—this is my freedom. Such a state, to me, represents genuine emancipation. The essence of freedom, discovered by my own power. 

Ps. Thank you for this book, it’s helped a lot!

Chapter Text

The salty breeze stings your skin as the ship cuts through the open sea, its sails straining against the steady wind. Four days have passed since you left the island, and while the journey has been smooth, the weight of responsibility clings to you like a shadow. The crew moves about with a sense of purpose, each member falling into rhythm under your leadership. It’s strange how natural it feels, and yet, the doubts creep in at the edges of your mind. How could you be Newt? How could you be a Captain? How could you lead them through the raging sea? You were once just a rowdy and unapologetic, chaotic, and rule-breaking crew member with a vendetta for something you could not name. For someone who had felt so lost, who could not find their way through your own mind, who could barely let yourself believe in your actions. Just, how could you?
You stand near the helm, the familiar sight of Marco leaning casually against the railing beside you. His golden hair catches the sunlight, and his sharp, yet kind eyes seem to scan both the horizon and you with equal intensity.
“You’ve got the crew in line quicker than I expected,” he remarks, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not bad for an impromptu Colonel.”
You scoff, though his compliment warms you. “It’s not like I had much choice. Someone had to take charge.” The lingering doubt in your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Marco. He raises a brow as he stands, arms crossed now, and a deep intensity in his eyes as he stares at you. The fleck of blue in his irises catches in the sun. It draws your breath to nothingness. You feel your cheeks warm as you shift from one foot to the other.
“And you did,” Marco replies, his voice steady. “Newt would’ve been proud of you.”
His words hang in the air between you for a moment before you nod, turning your gaze out to the endless stretch of water.

Later, in the captain’s quarters, you sit with Marco, Major Sasaki, and Major Keller. The table between you is cluttered with maps and charts, lines drawn and redrawn in a dozen paths toward Baltigo. Your finger traces a route along the eastern edge of the chart.
“This way keeps us out of the main marine shipping lanes, but it’s longer,” you say, glancing up at Sasaki. The man nods, his expression thoughtful.
“Safer, though,” he replies. “With the way the World Government’s been increasing patrols, we can’t risk drawing attention.”
Keller, arms crossed, leans back in his chair. “Agreed. Last thing we need is a fight before we even get close to Baltigo.”
Marco studies the map silently before speaking, his tone calm but firm. “The crew trusts you. They’ll follow whatever you decide.”
You pause, the weight of their collective gaze on you. Leadership is a mantle you’ve accepted reluctantly, but hearing their confidence in you steadies your resolve. “We take the eastern route, then. Baltigo is too important to risk losing more lives.”
As the meeting winds down, you linger, catching Keller and Sasaki as they stand to leave. “I need to ask you something,” you say, keeping your voice low. “What was Newt like, really?”
The two men exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before Sasaki speaks. “Brave, foolish, and loyal to a fault,” he says, his voice tinged with both fondness and sadness. “He never asked anyone to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself.”
Keller nods. “He had this... energy about him. You felt safe when he was leading, even when everything was going to hell.”
They fall quiet, and for a moment, you see Newt in their eyes—a shared memory of a man who left his mark on them, and now on you.
“He would’ve liked you,” Sasaki says finally. “The way you think, the way you lead—it’s not the same, but it’s familiar. And that puts people at ease.”
Keller grins, a rare expression from the otherwise stoic Major. “Yeah. You’ve got this.”
Their words stay with you long after they leave, the ship creaking softly in the stillness of the night. You sit alone in the captain’s quarters, staring at the map before you, Newt’s shadow still looming large. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels... reassuring.
Baltigo waits, and so does your destiny.

The quiet night hums with the rhythm of the waves, the ship swaying gently beneath your feet as you scan the dark waters. The stars above provide little comfort tonight, their cold, distant light doing nothing to banish the unease that gnaws at the edges of your mind. Marco leans casually against the mast nearby, his golden hair reflecting the faint glow of the ship’s lanterns.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asks, flicking your forehead lightly with a teasing grin.
You offer him a small, tired smile. “Shouldn’t you?”
He shakes his head, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re the Colonel, not the crew’s pack mule. You’ve done more than enough today.”
“Maybe,” you admit, rubbing the spot he flicked. “But it helps to stay busy.”
Marco doesn’t argue, though his sharp eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Fine. But if you’re staying up, I’m staying up. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t fall asleep standing.”
You chuckle at that, a quiet sound that doesn’t entirely mask the exhaustion you feel. “Deal.”

The peaceful night breaks suddenly. A shadow moves in the water ahead, too large and too deliberate to be anything mundane. Your heart clenches as a deep vibrational howl echoes across the sea, the kind of sound that sends a primal chill down your spine.
A Sea King.
The bell rings out, its urgent clang cutting through the ship’s silence. Marco is immediately at your side, his calm demeanor shifting into sharp readiness. “It’s big,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing as the creature’s massive form breaches the surface, water cascading off its scaled body. “You’ve faced worse, right?”
You swallow hard, memories of the fight ring flashing in your mind. The roaring crowd. The stench of sweat and blood. The monstrous creatures pitted against you for their amusement. Your fists clench at your sides, and you force the memories back, focusing on the present.
“I have.” Your tone leaving no room for doubt in his mind. You see his shoulders stiffen slightly, as if suddenly knowing the fear that rattled your mind.
Marco notices your hesitation and places a steadying hand on your shoulder. “Hey. I’m right here. Nothing’s getting past you are I.” The steady calm slowly seeping into your skin as if it were armor. He was here. You were alone. Not any more.
The words ground you, and you nod, drawing in a shaky breath. “I can do this.”
“Damn right, you can,” he says with a faint smirk. The tension in your shoulders ease and you called upon your fruit once again. The heat sweltering below your skin.
The deck is alive with activity as the night watch crew rushes to load the cannons. Shouts fill the air as the Sea King surges closer, its massive jaws opening to reveal rows of jagged teeth. Marco transforms in a flash of blue flames, his phoenix form alight against the darkness. A beacon.
“Stick with me,” he calls, his voice carrying a confidence that bolsters your own.
Drawing your weapon, you step to the edge of the ship, your nerves steeling as adrenaline floods your system. You can do this. For the crew. For yourself. For the promise of freedom that lies beyond the shadow of Mary Geoise.
The Sea King roars again, and with Marco’s fiery presence by your side, you charge into the fight.

The Sea King’s massive, serpent-like body coils through the water, its eyes narrowing as Marco’s fiery blue phoenix form flits in the air above it. The beast’s focus shifts, entranced by the dazzling light. You grip your weapon tightly, watching as Marco expertly keeps the creature’s attention on him, weaving just out of reach of its snapping jaws.
“Keep it busy,” you murmur under your breath, your mind racing. Memories of the cage fights resurface—every tactic, every desperate strategy you devised to survive. You shake off the bitter sting of those memories and focus on the task at hand.
The creature thrashes wildly as Marco dives in closer, flames licking at its scales. Its movements become more erratic, exposing weaknesses in its defense. You see it—the opening you’ve been waiting for. Its blind spot is just behind the head, where its massive neck meets the base of its skull. A weak point, if you can strike it hard enough.
You slip into the shadows cast by the ship, the chaos above masking your approach. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you move, every step bringing you closer to the beast. Timing is everything.
Marco’s voice rings out above the roar of the Sea King. “Make it count!”
You leap onto the creature’s back, using its thrashing movements to propel yourself into position. Every muscle in your body tenses as you raise your weapon high and bring it down with all the strength you can muster. The impact reverberates through your arms, and the beast lets out a deafening roar before its massive body goes slack, sinking slightly into the water.
“Stay down,” you whisper, catching your breath as the ship rocks from the creature’s final movements.

The crew erupts into cheers as you and Marco return to the deck. You’re immediately surrounded, hands clapping your back and reaching out for high fives. The relief and camaraderie are palpable, washing away the tension of the fight.
“Well done, Colonel!” someone shouts, grinning ear to ear.
Another adds, “Took that beast down like it was nothing!”
You smile, the praise warming you more than you expect. As the crowd begins to disperse, Marco steps forward, his human form restored, and pulls you into a firm hug.
“You were incredible out there,” he says, his voice quiet enough for only you to hear.
The hug is brief but comforting, his warmth and steady presence grounding you in the aftermath of the battle. “I couldn’t have done it without your distraction,” you reply, stepping back with a small smile.
Marco grins, his eyes alight with pride. “Teamwork, right?”
You nod, glancing out over the now calm sea. The Sea King remains unconscious, its massive form slowly fading into the distance as the ship sails onward. Relief floods through you—another battle won, another step closer to Baltigo and freedom.

Chapter Text

The letter comes at dawn, its edges slightly crinkled, stamped with Whitebeard’s familiar crest. You hold it carefully, the weight of his words pressing into your palm as you unseal the wax and unfurl the thick parchment. The news coo caws softly, eying you for a moment as you pay it for its service. You pet its head and its eyes close— a sort of familiarity in its eyes tethering to you in a way you couldn’t explain. For a moment you stare at the bird wondering if it knew what you were thinking, feeling, maybe even experiencing. A sort of natural instinct between two living things that share the same sort of primal DNA— Birds at heart. When you open the letter the faint scent of sea salt clings to the ink, as though it had traveled with haste across miles of open water to reach you.
The message is brief, urgent, and leaves no room for hesitation.
“My daughter,
I trust you’ve been keeping the Revolutionary Army’s men in one piece. I know you may not be so eager to return those men back home and so it is a hope of mine that you take them on one last mission before returning to Baltigo. A storm brews on Foodvalten, not of wind and waves, but of politics and old grudges. Two families with a history of running the island now feuding. I trust you to see that the island doesn’t tear itself apart before I can get there."
The signature, bold and slightly shaky, ends the note: 
Edward Newgate
You exhale, the knot in your chest tightening. The weight of the task ahead weighing heavy on your shoulders, but you know that you have carried heavier. For the first time, once again, Whitebeard is giving you his full trust to carry out another mission. The letter crinkled in your grasp as the familiar feel of anxiety coils in your gut— doubt, fear, unease, and tension fills your soul but this time you try to not let it linger. You feel it, and you let it pass through you. You don’t hold it.
Another mission. Another possible failure. Yet still, another chance.
The Revolutionaries are still below deck, some remain on the main deck either playing cards or tending to the ships needs, their laughter and muffled conversation a stark contrast to the unease gnawing at your gut.
Foodvalten, a place you’ve read about and heard stories of from Whitebeard himself, of how he managed to save them from raids and marine occupation. Being one of the many islands under his protection it was important that these bonds remain strong and so it was interventions like this that ensured peace— not only between the high houses that governed the islands people but also the alliance between the Whitebeard Pirates and Foodvalten’s government. You’ve never been, the verdant fields rolling toward sunlit coasts, markets bustling with traders from all corners of the seas. A paradise on good days, or so they say. But paradise often has its devils.
You fold the note and put it into your coat pocket. You would heed the call of your Captain before heading to Baltigo. You turned and called Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki to your side. The man stood from his game of cards with Lieutenants Boggs and Ishigaki, and sub-lieutenants Nakamura and Wagner. He walked up to you his stride was long and purposeful, that of a seasoned revolutionary and high ranking officer. The feeling of inadequacy seeped into your skin as you watched the seasoned seaman stride towards you, like his very purpose was to tame the sea he sailed. You were slowly coming to understand what your true purpose was, but in the face of those who seemed like masters you still felt like you had decades to go before you could ever feel like you belonged amongst them.
“Yes, Captain?” His deep voice was soft but firm.
“Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki, I received a letter from Whitebeard. He has asked us to take up one last mission before I leave you and your crew on Baltigo. If you wouldn’t mind doing me the honor of completing one last mission I would greatly appreciate it.” You spoke, voice soft but earnest. Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki nodded and a small smile pulled at his weathered face.
“It would be my mens honor and privilege to complete one last mission with you.” He commented gently. You turned to look at him and you saw that he was looking off into the horizon. His gaze held something softer in it and you couldn’t help but appreciate the company for a moment. Everything that has happened so far had been so chaotic and unpredictable. Yet you were proud to be standing here, putting yourself to the test of being a true and fierce leader. You too looked out into the horizon, and found that silver line that connected sea to sky. You would keep casing that silver line until the ends of the earth.
There is always a silver lining. You thought as you took in the serenity of it all. The calm before the brewing storm, and for a moment you hoped that you were ready to face it. For all that you had been through, for all that you would face, you knew deep down somewhere in your soul that you could do it. You could complete this mission. A faint smile tugged on your face as you and Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki stood side by side for a few quiet moments taking it all in.
“I suppose we should plot our course?” You muttered quietly as you turned to him again. Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki nodded his head.
“We should, I’ll call together a meeting. I’ll see you down in the planning room.” Before you knew it Sasaki was off to find Commander Keller, Lieutenant Boggs and Ishigaki, and Sub-Lietenants Nakamura and Wagner. 
You took a moment for yourself and looked back out on the horizon. The wind was blowing gently, your devil fruit humming softly in your core as you then turned to look up at the crows nest where Marco was taking watch. You summoned your devil fruit and slowly feathers grew from your arms. It was still strange to you having wings for arms when for so long they were on your back. It took some time still getting used to the feel and look of it all but you were still glad that you could use your devil fruit. Back in that facility you were sure that you would never have been able to use your power again. The loss and anger of it all still simmers below your skin, but it’s more tempered now, less hostile, and more sharp. A rage you would use to tame the wild, defeat enemies, and cut out your own path towards freedom.
You outstretched your wings and with one mighty jump you flew yourself up to the crows nest where Marco was sitting. You settled yourself onto the ledge of the railing and smiled down at Marco who looked at you amusedly. He stared at you like you amused him in the most intimate way. Like your very being was something to not hold but to watch and listen as you flourished under this new sun.
“Whats happening down there, little bird?” He asked, voice tired. He adjusted himself so he was sitting more upright. His hair messy from the crosswinds. Sailing had slowed significantly, the crew working to keep the ship on course as the winds tried to pull it onto another course. You had hoped that the winds would shift so that a tailwind would carry you forwards at pace but the looming clouds alluded to more chaotic winds. 
“You think the storm will miss us?” You inquired off-handedly as you scanned the horizon. You weren’t very good at guessing the nature of the weather but you tried regardless, sometimes you would get it right, other times you were off. Marco let out a soft laugh as he turned to look at the distant storm clouds.
“They’re cumulonimbus clouds, I would think the storm has already started. However, with the cross winds, it should bypass us entirely. So, yes, I think the storm should miss us.” Marco explained. The seriousness of his tone, and the way his brow set as he examined the distant storm clouds made your heart do flip-flops in your chest. There was something about the way his tone changed when teaching you, or anyone for that matter, something that he knew all about. If you could, you would let him explain ever little detail about this world for an eternity. You hummed softly as your eyes surveyed the storm clouds. Marco then turned back to you, a raised brow and more serious glint in his eyes, as if he knew you were evading something.
“I’m sure you didn’t come up here to talk about the different array of clouds on the open seas, spill it. What happened?” Marco folded his arms and gave you an amused expression as you furrowed your brows at him. As if him knowing you was an insult. It took much of your will to cool off the heat radiating your cheeks.
“I received a letter from Whitebeard.” You spoke more pointedly as you averted your gaze from his azure eyes. Marco sat up straighter this time, the hint of the first commander peaking through his weathered facial expression. “He wants us to head to Foodvalten. Apparently their tenure is weakening. He wants us to check it out before he makes land fall.” I explained as I tucked my wings close to my side. Marco raised a brow in surprise.
“We are plotting a course in the planning room below deck…” You paused, as you looked at him more earnestly, “It would be nice to have your guidance.” You added softly. 
Marco stood up and walked up to you with a small grin on his face. Asking for help was never your strong suit and so Marco reveled in it for a short moment. You straightened your back too aware of his closeness as your fruit stirred within you— a soft thrumming in your chest the only indication of what he does to you.
He then leaned closer, maybe too close, that you felt the heat radiate off of him. His cheek barely touching yours as he spoke “Then lead the way.” His voice was soft, too soft because it made your talons sink into the railing of the crows nest. You shifted in your spot on the railing and nodded stiffly. His breath fanned your neck and you pulled a small smile onto your face.
“Follow me.” You muttered as you fell backwards off of the railing and fluttered down to the main deck. Marco was quick to summon his own fruit and follow closely after you.
Your feet hit the deck and you feel your fruit retreating within you. You shake your arms a bit, the feeling of feathers falling off and pushing back into your skin sends an unwanted shiver up your spine. 
“Still getting used to the feeling?” Marco asks knowingly. You let out a soft chuckle.
“Just a bit. It’s getting easier though.” You reply softly as the two of you fall into step with one another.
“At least I don’t have to teach you how to fly all over again.” He jokes softly with a chuckle that sends another shiver up your spine. You smile softly, the memories rising within you, of the early days when you were just a new crew mate on the Moby. Of the days just shortly after you had been saved from Mary Geoise.
“I was a quick learner!” You said with a tender smile.
“Quick learner my ass. Namur had to save you more than a dozen times from the water.”
“Not my fault you decided that diving head first off of a cliff was a good starting point!”
The two of you had fallen into a fit of soft laughs as you walked below deck. Those were some of the better days on the Moby before everything felt like it had fallen apart. Before the fight with those pirates who threw a spear into your shoulder then causing Whitebeard to boat bound you. Your mood shifted but you let it sit with you for a moment before finding a calmness as you passed the threshold that lead the two of you below deck and towards the planning room.

The flickering light of the sconces that lined the four walls of the planning room filled it with an ambiance that didn’t quite match the curios glances that were passed around the room. While Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki knew of the change in plans it seemed that he didn’t spread reason as to why this meeting was called. It was on you to explain to the head of each division why their return home wouldn’t be for another month. 
Standing at the around table you looked at the maps spread in front of you. Some were rough copies of the North Blue, South Blue, East Blue, and West Blue. No official records because this ship had barely been outside of the Grand Line itself. This voyage was one of a few dozen trips it had made outside of the Grand Line, to you, it felt like an honor to be amongst the first few to take this ship outside of the chaotic waters of the Grand Line. While to some it didn’t feel like an adventure, to you and other sailors, these voyages would seal the deal on how well a ship would later traverse the waters. Just like people, ships needed experience and experience came from challenging all the open waters.
In the planning room Marco, Sasaki, and Lieutenant Boggs were present. Boggs was a stout man with more muscle than brain and a nasty habit for drinking rum by the barrel. He was born and bred from the waters of the North Blue and he breathed and lived through harsh challenges as if his soul depended on it. You saw him as a man worth his weight in gold, with a bounty to boot— 1,333,000 berries in the Marines eyes. Succeeding Boggs both Commander Keller, who had yet to show up, and Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki were both admirable in their own way. 
Keller while a few years younger than Sasaki held exceptional prestige amongst the crew and Newt. He was a driven man with a penchant for keeping Newt on track when he became too reckless and forgetful— or at least that’s what Commander Keller had explained to you a few nights prior. You gleaned that Commander Keller was also a man of his word while sailing with him. He wasn’t boastful like Wagner, but he also wasn’t too reserved like Nakamura. He was a true commander that was strict enough to keep everyone on track even when their captain was not.
Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki could be much like Keller when he had to be, but his role amongst Newts original crew, he was more relaxed when it came to keeping everyone in line. He was more personable and it only proved itself when you kept going to him for suggestions or guidance. In a way Sasaki reminded you of Marco, however, unlike Marco, Sasaki didn’t stir that pathetic soul crushing love-sick adoration you had for the Phoenix.
That perfect, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, muscle-toned, tall, handsome, calm-as-can-be first division commander— 
“We’re ready when you are, Captain.” Commander Keller spoke sternly.
You looked up abruptly and found that everyone had arrived and were now staring at you. Straightening your back and cleared your throat feeling completely caught off guard. You could feel the slight flush of heat that rushed your cheeks and you looked back down at the table, and more pointedly at the map that you were supposed to be reviewing instead of… well, instead of him.
You shift from one foot to the other while you scrambled to collect your thoughts, the creak of the wood below your feet loud in the still air. Your crew gathers around the table, their faces painted with exhaustion from the long weeks at sea, but their eyes remain sharp. They’ve been with you through countless storms and skirmishes, each one more harrowing than the last, and you had grown to trust their judgment implicitly.
Tapping the table nervously you finally look up and meet their gazes, you address them with the weight of responsibility pressing on your chest.
“I need to ask something of you,” you begin, your voice firm but laced with the uncertainty of the moment. “Whitebeard has sent word. There’s trouble on Foodvalten,” You shifted in your spot again as you still mulled over all of the possible situations that could go down in your head even as you spoke to the crew “bad enough that it can’t wait. If we head to Baltigo first, Marco and I would lose too much time. I have informed Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki of this change but I need to know if you’re with me on this.”
A murmur ripples through the crew as they exchange glances, they knew what this meant. They all did. They had to. There were some speculative glances passed around and you could only guess that they were feeling uneasy about stepping into affairs that were solely meant for the crew under Whitebeard. It wasn’t necessarily common on the seas for temp crews like this to insert themselves into disputes because most of the disputes were highly confidential. It would make sense that some if not most of Newt’s crew would feel uneasy about this considering they weren’t officially a part of the Whitebeard Pirates. However, if Whitebeard sent this with the implicit message that the crew could come then you didn’t really see an issue with it. You would bring the men who wanted to come with you and you would find some other way to send the others home before hand. You just hoped that you wouldn’t lose too much time in the process. You see the tired lines etched into their faces, the longing to return to familiar shores and the promise of rest. It’s clear they’ve been counting down the days until Baltigo.
Finally, Lieutenant Ishigaki steps forward, arms crossed over his chest. “Captain,” he says, his tone even. “You’re saying if you drop us off first, you’d have to take this ship to Foodvalten alone?”
You nod. “I would if your desire to return home was more pressing of a matter.” You say, though you knew that you couldn’t manage a ship this large on your own with Marco— where would you even begin to find new crew members to man the ship once this mission was over? The thought flew through your mind only briefly, to be honest you didn’t really want to think about that right now. One challenge at a time. You still wanted to give them that option of returning home though. You could figure out the logistics afterwards.
Lieutenant Ishigaki looks over the map that would soon outline the coming voyage, his lips pressed into a thin line. A few of the others murmur quietly among themselves, the weight of the decision evident in their furrowed brows. You heard some whisper of home and it made you bristle that maybe, just maybe they would choose home. You straightened you shoulders and prepared for what ever they would choose.
Then, Sub-Lieutenant Nakamura  speaks up, his voice carrying over the crew’s quiet deliberation. “If Whitebeard thinks it’s urgent, then it’s urgent. We’ll make do with a few more weeks.” He looked around the room and garnered some nods from his crew mates. Others seemed less adamant on joining but they didn’t voice their disagreement either. Their loyalty to not only you, but to safe guarding the voyage was their only tether between outright disapproval and acceptance. This made you want to hurry up and get this mission over with as soon as possible. These men wanted to get home and you couldn’t blame them. The war had drained everyone, even yourself, and yet here they all stood around you ready. Ready to face another few grueling weeks out at sea before they were headed home to see their families.
There’s a chorus of agreement, though tinged with weariness. Commander Keller claps you on the shoulder, a small grin breaking through his otherwise serious expression. “Looks like we’re with you, Captain. But you’d better owe us a good round of drinks when this is over.”
Relief washes over you, and you nod, gratitude evident in your expression. “You’ll have it. I promise.” Only the seas knew how much you wanted a drink yourself. 
As the crew disperses to prepare for the detour, you feel a renewed sense of determination settle over you. The ship’s course is set once more, not toward the familiar shores of Baltigo but toward the uncertainty of what lies ahead on the island of Foodvalten. 
The first challenge had been taken care of with relative ease. Second would be getting these men to Foodvalten while rationing portions meant for a one way trip back to Baltigo. If you remembered correctly there should be enough food to last the crew but you would have to talk to Sub-Lieutenant Wagner as he primarily looked over the crew in the kitchens.
Once it’s just you, Commander Keller, Lieutenant-Commander Sasaki and Marco, you begin to devise the voyage for Foodvalten.

You looked down at the displayed maps, the rock of the ship on choppy waters made your eyes feel uneasy but you had grown used to it. A second nature after so many years at sea. A stomach and mind tuned with the flow of water as if you and it were somehow still one despite the curse of the fruit that still dwells within you. Your eyes scan over small islands and larger ones inhabited with small villages. However, nothing large enough to hold a steady magnetic navigational pull for your log pose. You looked up at Sasaki, his eyes too were trained on the maps on the table. 
“Sasaki, does the ship carry eternal log poses?” While some larger vessel and pirate crew carried several eternal log poses it was a mystery to you whether or not the Scipio Flame would carry any. Sasaki looked up the thought passing through his eyes as he tried to recall if the ship did, in fact, have any or not.
“We have two-“ Sasaki paused as his face set to something akin to shame. “One for Baltigo and the other for Water Seven, Captain.” Sasaki looked back down to the maps and your lips pulled into a thin line. Well, there went your easiest chance at getting to Foodvalten anytime soon. You would have to navigate islands large enough that carried enough magnetic force to pull the ships guiding path. 
“That’s fine. Marco,” you looked to him and when you thought he was already looking at the maps you were pleasantly surprised to see him already looking at you. Eyes filled with something you were still too nervous to name. 
“Yes, Captain.” He spoke surely, the honorary title falling from his lips like it was already second nature to him. Which to be honest, you weren’t sure if you wanted to take it as a compliment for his loyalty or as a hit to Whitebeard himself. Marco always carried Whitebeard with the highest regard, for you to be up there with him in this nature was unnerving as it was flattering. Maybe you’ll take it as both. Definitely both.
You swallowed, feeling your mouth go dry and gathered yourself, “write a letter and have it be sent off to Foodvalten. I know the news coo will get their sooner than us. Tell them that an envoy of the Whitebeard Pirates is establishing a route to their island and to expect us within the next few weeks.” Marco nodded and strides out of the room. As he left he muttered under his breath something that was a little too husky to be anything than neutral. 
“As you wish, Captain.” 
You frowned as the door clicked shut and up looked up and over your shoulder. You felt it instantly. The flush of heat to your cheeks as your stomach threatened to let loose a flurry of butterflies. Your fingers flexed and relaxed as you tried to steady your racing heart.
As you wish, Captain 
The husky drawl of his voice sparking something in you that you had only felt once before, a long time ago, when you first had your flying lesson with him. It was a girlish crush back then, but now? It sent your devil fruit into a frenzy that made you question whether or not that girlish crush had ever disappeared. Back then it was wild, desperate, fierce and unwavering. So obvious in its approach that you sometimes cringed at the very thought of it. You thought that you had tempered those emotions into something more akin to loyalty to the crew, and an unspoken loyalty to him. You thought that you had learned to keep those emotions to yourself, because back then you didn’t have an inkling of reason to think that he had ever felt that way towards you. To you, you thought, that he was more annoyed, or too focused on training you to fly that he just never noticed. Now? Hellish seas have mercy.
You turned back to the table and Sasaki was eying you heavily. Something in his eye told you that he had heard, or had already been half listening. Keller on the other hand, too old to give a damn, didn’t even move or give way to whether or not he had truly noticed— you doubted it though. The man always somehow knew. You schooled your expression and turned your face from Sasaki. You wouldn’t give him the chance to even ask what that was all about. Skies above, you wouldn’t even give yourself the chance. You needed to focus and damn Marco for well… for well being him.
As you wish, Captain 
For the next several minutes the three of you had scoured over the maps and after some deliberations you had come to a final stand on which islands would be best suited for cutting down traveling time and avoiding the G5. Luckily there were islands large enough that provided a linear path towards FoodValten. You would be traveling between G5, Punk Hazard, and Reino de Moyaro, Dressrosa, and Applenine. You would let Keller guide the ship because it would need special attention to the three pronged log pose. You were good at navigation, but these islands has weaker magnetic pulls than the G5 and Dressrosa. Careful consideration of the whereabouts of the Scipio Flame and those islands would need to be handled. Following the wrong prong would lead to extended time on the sea or the higher possibility of running into marines. Something you really couldn’t afford at this time.
“This passage will be difficult, however, I believe that it is the most straightforwards considering the time constraint of the mission.” Keller said, his tone final. You nodded and agreed with him. Based on everything you knew about the crew and time needed to get to FoodValten you didn’t really see any other option.
“Then it is done. I can get the crew ready to set sail. We’ll be entering into the Calm Belt before sunset. I would like to get enough speed from the tailwind that has started.” Mused Sasaki has he grabbed his belongings and headed for the door. “If the seas are good we won’t run into any blasted Sea Kings…” you heard him mutter as he exited out of the room. You smiled half-heartedly to yourself as you wrapped up the remaining caps and put them back into their capsules for safe keeping.
It was quit between you and Keller for a moment before he decided to speak up.
“What are you navigational skills like?” He said as he placed the final capsule back in the map drawer. You turned to him and raised a brow.
“Intermediate I would say, why do you ask?”
“I want you to shadow me. It’ll be good to learn how to navigate weaker magnetic fields. I’m sure you’ll run into more scenarios like this in the future. Best you know how to handle them.” He spoke with a finality that suited him. You only nodded with a smile. He beat you to the punch and it only served to praise yourself for your forward thinking. You were going to ask Keller if he could teach you a thing or two more about navigation. Keller nodded and straightened his back before exiting the room.
You looked over the room one final time and found that it was clean. You walked the perimeter of the room and blew out the sconces before exiting the room yourself. 
As the crew busies themselves with preparations for the change in course, you find Marco leaning casually against the mainmast, his sharp blue eyes on the news coo, he was handing over the letter you had him write. As you walked up to him you scanned the ship and found that everything was in order. The jolt of the ship making your feet stutter as the Scipio Flame caught the tailwind. It was strong and you gained speed rather quickly. When the news coo flew off towards the horizon you watched it flap its wing only once before it ascended high into the air. You knew that the trade winds would be its best opportunity to get to FoodValten quickly. 
You knew that there were two different trade winds, each bowing opposite to each other of different sides of the the Red Line. Luckily for you, and the news coo, this trade wind was blowing south to north. This was something you had to learn quickly and you mentally thanked Marco again for teaching you this bit of knowledge. Just then Marco turned to you, his ever-present calm seems unshaken, but you catch the faint crease in his brow that hints that something on his mind.
“Whats with that look, blue bird?” you ask, voice light with the old nickname you had given him so many years ago. 
“What are your plans once the temp crew returns home?” 
You knew what he was asking. Once you had returned everyone home it would essentially just be you and him. You guessed that the revolutionaries would want to vessel back and you were sure that they would provide you with a smaller vessel that would suit your needs to return to the Moby. 
“I was going to talk to Dragon about taking one of his smaller vessels.” You said, though even you were unsure of whether or not he would let you. You would just have to be persuasive enough. Dragon, as he was, was a stubborn man with patience as large as the Red Line itself. You think you can figure something out.
“If that’s you’re plan, then I can stick to it.” He mused, a mysterious glint in his eye gave you pause, yet you nodded. Then you paused again. That look in his eye told you something that you hadn’t seen yet… or that’s what you’re sensing. You give him a moment to speak up. The two of you looking at each other for an awkward amount of time. Then you huffed because now that you thought about it you wondered how you would return to Whitebeard. Sure a small vessel could handle the the New World, but the risks were high. The chances of two devil fruit users making it back to the main ship? Well, shit, you might as well jump into the ocean right now.
He’s for sure making me think this through. You thought to yourself as you looked away from him. Your ears turning a light shade of pink as you tried to figure out how to work around this little conundrum.
Thinking back to other stories of how the different commanders of the Moby got through shortages of ships you remembered Speed had a similar issue. 
What did he do again? You thought to yourself as you crossed your arms. You heard Marco let out an amused sound. 
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a certain thinking face?” He spoke lightly, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a smile.
“I do not!” you said defiantly as you looked back at him.
“You certainly do…” He mused as he looked over your face again. The heat crawled up your neck so fast you couldn’t even attempt to hide the blush that crossed your face. “It’s very cute.” He added on, this time it was softer, quieter, more intimate than you were expecting.
Just then your mind remembered what Speed had done. You turned away from Marco, flustered, before speaking up.
“We’ll hire another temp crew. Baltigo has a town of its own, I’m sure there are traders there that would want passage to Dressrosa. Its a trading port.” You voice trailed off as you thought about all of the different trades that came in and out of Dressrosa. Some more dubious than others. Then you added, “we’ll keep hiring temp crews until return home.” Your voice grew in pitch as your words tumbled out of your mouth in quick succession. 
“That’s gonna incur a large fee. One I’m sure Jozu won’t take lightly.” Marco could hardly hold back a chuckle as he watched you flounder for an idea that wasn’t going to bankrupt the Moby.
“Whatever, I’ll figure it out. I can’t think straight cause you’re making me—“ you paused before you could finish that thought which only drew a heartier laugh from Marco. Your blush deepened.
“I’m gonna talk to Wagner.” You countered back, though there was no real bite. You just needed to get out of his space for a minutes and gather yourself. No better way to do that than talk about food rations with Wagner.
“Alright little bird.” Marco chuckled softly as he came up and pet you on the head. A gesture he hadn’t done since flight training. You groaned internally at how easily it was for you to melt into his touch. You wanted him to keep doing it but you forced yourself to walk away. Your back straight as a rod as you went in search for Wagner.
As you walked off you found that hiring a temp crew was going to be the only way. A small vessel will only need 5-8 people to man it properly without over working anyone. Although, then a thought popped into your head. You and Marco could fly together…
Me? Stuck in the air with him? For days? With nights together alone?
The blush that had crossed your face turned into a downright deep shade of red. The thoughts of the possibilities flying faster than you could keep up with. That girl crush certainly had a way of making a come back that was for certain.
You groaned out loud as you entered the lower decks.
Whatever lay ahead, you would face it. Professionally…