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"Sail ho! Sail on the horizon!"
Briefly, Marco allows his eyes to flick towards the crow's nest, catching sight of Haruta half leaning over. If it were anyone else, Marco may have been worried, but Haruta has the balance of a devil, and just as much luck. Nothing short of a hurricane would fling him over the rails.
Ambling towards Pops' chair, Marco observes the preparations with no small feeling of satisfaction. After years of working together, Moby Dick's crew is a well-oiled machine, everyone rushing to their spots and going over the tasks with familiar ease. He notices cannonballs getting ready, all the gunners settling themselves in their accustomed places, lookouts placing their feet on rails and shading their eyes to observe barely-there speck on horizon. All the commanders flock towards Whitebeard's throne, and when Marco arrives, Thatch, Vista and Jozu are already waiting for him.
"Son," Whitebeard grumbles in greeting. "Which flag?"
Marco shrugs. "Not sure yet. Give it some more time, yoi."
The commanders shuffle, whispering.
"Three hundred beli says its Red-Hair again," Thatch starts, grin widening.
Jozu grunts. "No way. Heard there were some marine ships in these waters. Bet they saw us and were too stupid to run."
"I bet it's a rookie again," Vista chimes in.
"What, Ace's not enough for you?" Thatch laughs. "You want another little brother so soon?"
Vista aims a withering look in his direction. "Ace is more than enough," he says, to a deck-full of snickers. "I just wish he'd calm down and accept he's family already."
"You and everyone else, yoi."
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard bellows. "Who knows? Maybe I'll adopt another rookie? Would you like that, my sons?"
"Pops," Thatch groans. "I love all of my brothers, but at least wait until Ace is fully onboard."
Whitebeard is still smiling. "That foolish son of mine will come around eventually."
"Sure, Pops," Marco sighs. "What're you betting on, yoi?"
"A rival pirate crew."
"Rookies?"
"Gurararara!" Pops laughs again, and refuses to answer.
As if orchestrated by some higher being, Haruta leans even further from his place in the crow's nest and shouts, spyglass dangling in a loose grip. "Pops! Oi, Pops! It's the Straw Hats!"
A series of groans mixed with cheering echoes around the deck as Marco's crewmates start to relax. Everyone knows that when Straw Hat Luffy comes to challenge Whitebeard to a fight, it wouldn't be something as tame as simply sailing towards them and demanding it. Probably, it will involve a revolution or two, at least one royal family, food, and torture of both the laws of physics and common sense. Monkey D. Luffy never does anything halfway.
Marco still doesn't know what to make of the newest power in the New World. News of Kaido's defeat is just weeks old, and there's talk of making Straw Hat the fourth Emperor, but nobody – not the pirates, not the marines, and certainly not the government – seems to know what to make of him. When he’d gone to fight Kaido, and with the rumors of Charlotte Linlin’s wrath, everyone’d thought he’d die soon enough, killed by an Emperor or one of their lieutenants. Not even Straw Hat Luffy could possibly be tough enough to face the might of two Emperors and survive – he might be monstrous, he might be determined, he might be in company of strong allies and in possession of an actual fleet, but he’s still a rookie. There’s no way, everybody had agreed, that he could compare to the literal decades of experience, to the armies and legendary Devil Fruits and opponents willing to kill for the single slight. There’s no way, in the end, that he could defeat an unkillable man.
And yet, here he is. One Emperor lying at his feet, the other scrambling to recoup her losses, and Straw Hat, the one man everyone thought would be dead by now, still cheerfully sailing his way across the New World.
The Whitebeards, prudently, had stayed out of it. Pops usually doesn’t have a habit of mixing himself in other Emperors’ squabbles unless they become too destructive, and not even Straw Hat’s involvement had changed his mind. Still, Marco doesn't understand how they haven't been attacked or caught in the crossfire that had engulfed a good half of the New World, but he thinks that Straw Hat actually likes them, and has ever since their adventure on the Fishman Island.
Truthfully, he doesn't know what to make of it.
Apparently, Straw Hat's favor – if he doesn't want to fight you just for fun – is shown in sporadic visits that usually end in days-long party where both crews get shit-faced drunk and strewn all over the decks of two ships. Most of the time, something catches on fire. Once, Jozu had ended up unconscious in Thousand Sunny's hold, and it took the Straw Hats hours to realize it, forcing them to backtrack and deliver the sheepish and hangover commander back on Moby Dick. All of this, of course, doesn't deter Marco's crewmates in the slightest. He can already see them rolling out booze barrels from the ship's secret stash.
"Guess I better head down to the kitchen," Thatch says, after delivering three hundred beli in Whitebeard's hands. "That monster will eat us out of all of our food again."
"Wait, yoi!" Marco catches him, a sudden thought crossing his mind. "Make sure Ace stays belowdecks, yoi."
Thatch blanches. "Right. It’s better that he doesn't go out until everyone's drunk enough not to care. We don't need him challenging another Emperor. Straw Hat won't kill him, but I bet he'll beat him up good."
"Not an Emperor, yoi!" Marco shouts after him.
"He will be!" Thatch waves him off, not even looking back. "I'll put five hundred beli on it."
Marco sighs. Jozu looks at him like he's laughing at Marco's misfortune. Marco scowls. "And you don't get drunk enough to desert the ship again, yoi. We might get ideas, yoi."
Jozu snorts and walks away.
"Gurararara, my sons!" Whitebeards grins. "Come! It'll be a party!"
It doesn't take Thousand Sunny long to reach them. For all that the ship is relatively small, the Straw Hat’s navigator is, by now, recognized as one of the best in New World and she directs it with expertise that is enviable. Up close, anchored by Moby Dick, Thousand Sunny looks even smaller than it is, with its yellow-and-red coloring and its lawn-deck and furled sails. Like a children's toy or a colorful miniature, it has nothing on the gigantic grandiosity of Whitebeard's flagship. Still, neither Marco nor his crewmates dare to underestimate either the ship or the pirates who call it home. When a Straw Hat talks, they listen.
"Permission to come aboard?!" comes a feminine voice, and Marco leans forward to catch sight of Cat Burglar Nami standing at the helm, Jinbe’s strong bulk towering over her.
"Permission granted," he shouts down.
"Yosh!" is the only warning he gets, before something red and yellow slingshots itself onto Moby Dick's deck by way of flinging itself into Marco and cushioning its fall with his body. With one Straw Hat Luffy carelessly sitting up on his chest, Marco covers his face with his hand and ignores his brothers' snickering all across the ship. "Hey, Moustache-ossan! We've come to party!"
A cheer rings out as the rest of the Straw Hats clamber onto Moby Dick. Blackleg Sanji immediately makes his way towards the kitchen and nobody stops him, familiar with the routine, as the rest of them gather around their lunatic of a captain.
"Luffy," Nico Robin says, smiling gently. "Maybe you should get off of Phoenix-san first. You can't start a party while he's lying there."
"Oh, right!" Straw Hat says and jumps up, allowing Marco to get back onto his feet. Straw Hat observes him with unnaturally large smile, not at all concerned by the irritated look Marco shoots him. "Oi, Pineapple Guy, are you going to actually have fun today?"
Marco scowls.
"Gurararara!" Whitebeard laughs, drawing all attention to himself. "A party? You're not going to challenge me today, you upstart brat?"
Straw Hat bears Whitebeard's interested gaze as if he doesn't notice it. He shrugs. "Nah. We only just beat up Kaido, and Big Mom's next. It's not your time yet, Moustache-ossan!"
"Gurararara! Cheeky brat," Pops says, entirely too fond. Marco is completely sure that the only thing stopping Whitebeard from asking Straw Hat to become his son is the knowledge that he would be soundly refused. Everyone knows where Straw Hat's aiming at. By now, there are a lot of people thinking he'll succeed, too. "Then let's get drunk!"
"Woohoo!" Straw Hat cheers. Twirling on his heel, he beams at his crew, who, every last one of them, seem unable to stop themselves from returning the smile. "Franky, come on, let's get the booze. This'll be awesome!"
With that said, Straw Hat carelessly flings himself off of the Moby Dick, snatching Cyborg Franky on the way down.
"He is very excited," comes a voice from Marco's elbow, and it takes every speck of his self-control not to jump. When he looks down, he notices that Nico Robin, reindeer doctor in her hands, has somehow managed to sneak up on him. All of Straw Hat's crewmates are weird, but this woman is, Marco has always thought, downright creepy. "The Wano natives sent us off with some excellent alcohol as thanks."
Marco raises an eyebrow, observing the rest of the Straw Hats. Roronoa Zoro and Nami immediately make way towards the barrels of booze, while Soul King Brook, in all of his skeletal glory, starts meandering across the deck, violin in hand and Bink's Sake on his lips. He can't quite see Jinbe, but there's a large cluster of Marco's brothers gathered around Pops' chair, so Marco bets that the Knight of the Sea has been assimilated back into the Whitebeards for the night. The long-nosed sniper – Usopp, Marco thinks, or Sogeking, or something like that – is leaning over the railing and seemingly shouting instructions at his own captain.
"You saved them and they offered you booze, yoi?" And you were satisfied? Marco doesn't add.
Doctor Chopper wiggles in Robin's grip. "What else is there?" he asks, innocently.
Dominion over their island? Tithes, taxes or fortune? Their very own lives? Marco's heard about pirates demanding worse for services Straw Hats render at the drop of a hat. Metaphorically, because if anything happened to that hat, everyone knows, there'd be probably nothing left of Wano, civilians or not.
There’s a reason Pops likes them, though. The Whitebeards, too, request little from the islands under their protection. Safe harbors for their ships, mostly. Booze, sometimes, when the nurses actually manage to dump it all overboard. But Whitebeard is generally regarded as the most benevolent of the Emperors, content with his family and his power, a member of the old guard uninterested in showing off or conquering new lands. There’s security in living under Whitebeard’s shadow, knowing that the man’s position is strong enough, his reputation powerful enough, that he would never use you for his own ends. Whitebeard, put simply, just doesn’t need to exert his power over anyone; everyone already knows who he is.
Red-Hair is similar too, though he holds no territories. Shanks is an anomaly among the Emperors, having no lands and no fleet, and still powerful enough to rival them all. Pops respects him for that, respects him for his freedom and willingness to let the wind take him to the next adventure. Shanks is a product of his childhood, a man raised by the Pirate King and completely unable to be tied down again in his lifetime. There’s certain kind of strength to it, in that complete refusal to bow down to even the most common of social pressures.
But Whitebeard and Shanks, they’re the anomalies. Not many pirates live like that, respecting the freedom of all people. Strong pirates, especially, are prone to arrogance, to cruelty. It is easy, once you’re powerful enough, to exert that power over people too weak to stop you. Not many people can resist that.
Straw Hat, though. Somehow, even freer than Shanks. Somehow, able to find a crew full of experts and geniuses, a crew fully willing to abandon their homes and their bright futures just to join him on his adventure. Somehow, Straw Hat has acquired nakama similar enough, kind enough, free enough, that not a single one of them would ever demand anything more than people they protect can give.
"Right," Marco sighs, once again tired because of the sheer impossibility that is Straw Hat Pirates.
Nico Robin observes him with knowing eyes.
Right. This is enough.
"I'm just going to–" He's stopped from saying more by a loud crash from belowdecks and the sound of Thatch swearing furiously.
"No, wait – shit, Davy fucking Jones' dicking shitweasel – Ace, come on, don't – blue sea fuck him – Ace!"
"What the hell, Marco?!" Portgas D. Ace storms onto the deck in all of his bare-chested, flaming glory, Thatch trailing after him, looking slightly singed. "You kidnap me, and now I can't even get out of my own damn room without a babysitter?!"
"Ace," Marco tries to reason before the Straw Hats get interested and fuck everything up. This is their little brother, and nobody wants to see him beaten to a pulp or sliced to pieces. "This is for your own good, yoi."
With tired resignation, he notices the commotion drawing in a crowd, both crews streaming around to listen in. Even Blackleg deigns to come out of the kitchen, though he's carrying platters of food in both hands as his ridiculous eyebrows rise in curiosity.
Marco doesn’t want to deal with this. Straw Hats won’t attack first, at least, as they’re not really all that prone to aggression. Not even personal insults would move their captain, not really, because, for all that Monkey D. Luffy is a hothead, he is a surprisingly wise one. Straw Hat knows better than to attack people because of mere words. But Ace rarely stops at words. He might attack. He might go in with intent to kill. And for all that Straw Hat is generally easy to get along with, he is merciless in a fight. And even if he, by some miracle, were to ignore Ace, or decide he’s too boring to fight, his crew might not be all too ready to let a danger to their captain go. Roronoa Zoro, at least, is always ready to draw a sword in defense of Monkey D. Luffy.
"For my own good?!" Ace rages, seemingly not even noticing the guests onboard. So far, so good. Now they just have to calm him down until he's not raring to challenge any nearby Emperor to a death fight. "What even gives you the right–" Suddenly, he stops, eyes catching on something over Marco's shoulder, expression going dumbstruck. "Luffy?"
"Whitebeard."
It is just one word. One word, said in a completely calm tone, and yet it silences the whole ship.
Marco, dread rising, turns around. There's Monkey D. Luffy, standing at the railing with barrels of booze at his feet and Cyborg Franky at his shoulder, and it should have been a normal sight, something the Whitebeards have seen near dozens of times, if it weren't for the completely blank expression on his face. The absence of the habitual grin is stark, made starker still by the fact that he's placed a hand on his infamous hat and jammed it down far enough over his head to shade his eyes.
His crew's no better. Roronoa's white-hilted sword is already halfway out of its sheath at the mere word of his captain, while both Nami and the sniper have retreated closer to Thousand Sunny, ready to escape and provide cover fire at the moment's notice. Nico Robin doesn't so much tense, as she straightens with a sharp glint to her eye, and Doctor Chopper jumps from her arms only to land in his muscled, yeti-like form. Marco doesn't dare to turn his back to the tightly-reigned bundle of fury that is Straw Hat Luffy, but he is acutely aware that Blackleg is standing in a cluster of some of his brothers, none of whom are commander-level, and that those trays in his hands offer no obstacle. Brook, too, has been taken by his meandering song in the middle of Marco's crewmates and is very much quick enough to take them out of the fight before somebody even tries to stop him. Jinbe is, most damningly, right in the middle of some of the most dangerous commanders and capable of tying them down in a duel for long enough to give his new crew a fighting chance.
And every single eye – every single Straw Hat on the ship – is trained on Monkey D. Luffy.
Because Marco doesn't think he's ever heard Straw Hat refer to Pops by either his rightful title or given name in all the time they've known each other. Straw Hat, in fact, doesn't seem to care for names of anyone who doesn't sail under his flag or, for some strange reason, on Red-Hair's ship. Every single Whitebeard commander has tried to break him out of this habit, has tried to make him refer to Pops by something less insulting, only to run into a cheerful wall made of pure stubbornness and inability to conform to anyone's demands. Straw Hat Luffy, they've learnt, does not care enough to listen about their petty complaints on his naming habits.
Until now.
Mouth settled into a firm line, Straw Hat says, "What's my little brother doing on your ship?"
"Little brother?" Pops asks, though his gaze is already swerving towards Ace.
Ace, who, for a moment, looks completely dumbstruck. Ace, who smiles more brilliantly than Marco's ever seen him the moment he realizes that, yes, that really is Straw Hat Luffy standing on the deck of Moby Dick and staring down Whitebeard without hint of fear.
"Luffy!" he shouts, and starts running towards Straw Hat before anyone can stop him. Perhaps everyone is too stunned to do so, because when Ace reaches him, Straw Hat only wraps one of his elongated rubbery arms around his shoulders, which has an added benefit of pulling him halfway behind the older man. "Luffy! What are you doing here?"
For one long moment, Straw Hat does nothing, staring Whitebeard straight into his eyes. Then he looks away with insulting dismissiveness, only to smile in Ace's direction. "Shishishi! We've come to party!"
The laughter does nothing to dismiss the tense atmosphere. Straw Hat’s crew, reacting to some unseen command from their captain, draws closer together and does not take their eyes away from Whitebeard Pirates, even as Straw Hat himself turns his back on the greatest threat on this ship.
Ace, secure in Straw Hat’s grip and looking more at ease than during all the weeks he’s stayed on Moby Dick, seems dumbfounded. “You party with them? With him?” There’s an emphasis to his question that no one seems to get, except his brother.
Straw Hat tilts his head. “Yes. It’s fun partying with Mustache-ossan. He tells the best stories.” Once again sweeping his eyes over the pirates gathered across the deck, Straw Hat rests his gaze on Whitebeard, still relaxing in his chair, but looking thoughtful, rather than angry or worried. “What is Ace doing here?”
“I’ve been kidnapped,” Ace snaps immediately, full of venom.
Straw Hat’s haki surges.
Marco hasn’t felt it before, not really. There was that time on Fishman Island, when Straw Hat had used it against Hody Jones and his pirates, but even then, his control had been perfect. Dark King Rayleigh had trained him well; even standing next to Straw Hat, Marco hadn’t felt anything more than a light breeze fluttering his hair.
He feels it now.
Straw Hat doesn’t bring the full force of his haki onto their heads, and so most of the crew manages to stay standing. Some of the weaker members sway on their feet, and even the commanders start to sweat, but the pressure is not enough to force anyone unconscious. Still, it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, searing-hot and sun-bright, and Marco thinks that if Straw Hat were to try, even the commanders would have trouble staying upright in his presence.
Only Whitebeard sits calmly, unaffected.
“Ah.” With the rim of his hat shading his eyes further thanks to another tilt to his head, Straw Hat straightens. “Mustache-ossan kidnapped Ace? Why?”
Whitebeard’s gaze bores into Straw Hat, sharp and piercing, as Straw Hat’s haki washes over the Moby Dick like waves onto shore, but neither of them flinch. The battle of wills is silent and strangely still, and not even Marco, who’s known Pops the longest, quite understands what’s going on.
Eventually, Whitebeard breaks the stand-off. “Gurararara!” he laughs, full-bellied, and most of the commanders relax, even though nobody makes a mistake of ignoring the still too-tense Straw Hats. “I’d like for him to be my son.”
“Aaah, really?” Straw Hat asks, full of meaning that goes over everyone’s head.
“Yes,” Whitebeard says, simply. Suddenly looking away from Straw Hat, he aims his gaze directly at Ace. “All of us are children of the sea.”
Ace flinches, looking stricken. Straw Hat Luffy glances between him and Whitebeard, blank-faced and considering, before he grins widely. The heavy presence of his haki disappears, as if it’s never been there, and there’s a lot of relieved exhalation going around the deck.
“Shishishi!” Straw Hat laughs. At the sound, the rest of his crew relaxes from their combat stances and immediately switches into their merry-making mode, apparently forgetting the almost-fight with surprising quickness. “Alright then! We should party even more!”
“Luffy!” Ace hisses between his teeth, radiating disbelief, though he does nothing to disentangle himself from Straw Hat’s octopus-like grip.
“Ace! Come on!” Straw Hat says brightly, ignoring Ace’s objections. “You haven’t met all of my nakama yet!”
With that, he unceremoniously drags Ace into a cluster of already-crowding Straw Hats, most of whom greet him with cheerful familiarity. Marco loses sight of them at that point, and so he sighs and goes around the ship making sure nothing actually catches fire.
Ace is Straw Hat Luffy’s little brother. Of course, he is. Their most troublesome little brother is even more troublesome than they’ve thought, and Marco doesn’t know what to do with it. So, taking a quick look at Pops and following his lead, Marco decides to ignore it for now and think about all the implications tomorrow.
It’s hours later, after watching the fireworks, courtesy of Straw Hat’s sniper, and judging a drinking contest – won by Cat Burglar Nami, of course, for the third time in a row, when is his crew going to learn? – that he sees them again. Straw Hat Luffy and Ace are sprawled carelessly over each other, limbs tangling on the deck even as their heads are cushioned against hard wooden railing. There’s a small mountain of platters and plates stacked precariously around them, but neither of them pays it any mind as they bend their heads together and talk.
“– and they call him Pops,” Ace says, confused and bewildered and more open than Marco’s ever seen him.
He wonders, suddenly, how it must’ve felt for Ace to have someone as crazy and as wild as Straw Hat Luffy for an older brother. No wonder Ace is so very weird.
“Eh, so?” Straw Hat digs his finger into his ear carelessly.
“Why?” Ace bursts out. He really, honestly doesn’t understand. Marco has long suspected that there are some heavy daddy issues here, and he supposes that this is as close to conformation as he’s going to get.
“Because he’s their dad,” Straw Hat says, as if it’s obvious to him. And then, even more insultingly, “Duh.”
“Luffy!”
“If Ace doesn’t want a dad,” Straw Hat continues, oblivious, “then I can take him from here. Mustache-ossan can’t stop me.” Then, as if he hasn’t casually announced his full willingness to go to war against another Emperor, he tilts his head towards Ace, inquisitive. “Does Ace want to go?”
Ace grumbles, and slumps into Straw Hat once again, but says nothing. Straw Hat observes him for a moment, and then cuts his gaze to concentrate unerringly on Marco, hidden under the shadow of an awning and spying shamelessly. Marco offers him a languid shrug.
With a tilt of his suddenly blank face and a hand on his hat, Straw Hat very obviously orders him to go. Usually, Marco would have bristled at the presumption, but this time, he can’t really fault it; he is the one eavesdropping on a private conversation. So, he nods and leaves, tucking his worries deep inside, and trying not to think about their newest brother and his crazy family.
Ace will be okay with Straw Hat. Staying on Moby Dick, or leaving, Straw Hat will make sure that Ace is safe and happy either way. Marco can be sure of that much, at least.
.
.
.
The day after, hangover and struggling, the Straw Hats leave.
Ace stays.