Chapter Text
The lookout fiddled with his new telescope, its bronze casing etched with beautiful patterns. It was his trophy from their latest plunder and had caught his eye immediately, but it still needed to be adjusted. He held it up to his eye and twisted the lens piece. Blurry green gradually came into focus, and then a splash of bright red stepped into his field of vision. The captain had a serious expression on his face and his stride was brisk, black cloak billowing out behind him and in his hands, a blue— what? A little bird?
The lookout gulped, took a closer look, and determined that he was carrying a vaguely familiar, unconscious bird. He hesitated a moment, then bent over and shouted down to Beckman, who was smoking below: "Vice captain! Bad news! The boss stole the Phoenix's pet!"
Beckman looked up at him but before he could say anything, Lucky Roux laughed. "If the boss were to steal anything, it would be the Phoenix himself... right?"
Before he finished speaking, Shanks was already within sight. The closer he came, the clearer they could see the bird in his hands. It had teal feathers interspersed with gold, and there was a glasses-like pattern on its head. It looked familiar, and was clearly related in some way to the former first division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Half the crew raised their heads, expecting to see a menacing blue bird appear out of the sky; the other half looked to Beckman, hoping the second-in-command would know what to do.
Beckman furrowed his brows and said nothing. When Red-Hair stepped onto the deck, he approached them. "Marco?"
Even though the size was wrong, he would never mistake him for another bird. There was no other devil fruit user who could heal the wounds on his wings, even though the speed was slower than the Phoenix that he knew. The familiar flame and regenerative ability pointed to only one conclusion. Beckman went to find the ship's doctor with Shanks, asking with his eyes for an explanation.
"He was like this when I found him."
The red-haired Emperor was grim-faced as he described what happened. He had gone to Marco's house on Sphinx as usual, but the Phoenix wasn't there. At first he wasn't worried, thinking that he could've gone to treat the villagers. Marco was popular there and every time Shanks came to chat, they would be interrupted. But after a while he realized something was wrong— his Observation couldn't find the other man anywhere on the island, but there was a faint sign of life in his room.
The messy blanket on his bed looked as though someone had just been sleeping in it, and the lump in the middle didn't look as if it was hiding something but rather like the owner of the room had left in a hurry. It wasn't a surprise that no one paid attention to it before, but Shanks had lifted a corner of the quilt and found a shrunken phoenix underneath.
"His condition was worse before." He was unconscious, breathing weakly, and his wings were almost completely severed, only attached with tiny strips of flesh. When Shanks picked him up, he was worried they would break off entirely. There were no signs of a fight in the room, but the questions remained. Who could stealthily hurt the phoenix, why would this unknown devil fruit user appear, and where were they now?
Shanks didn't say what he was thinking, but Beckman had already thought of it. Recalling that nothing on Sphinx looked out of the ordinary, Beckman's frown grew more severe. "I'll ask the patrol to pay more attention."
The ship's doctor had already heard the news and made preparations, but after seeing the patient, he found he had no idea where to start. He thought it was the phoenix's pet that he had to treat, but an examination showed that it was Marco himself. The injuries on his wings didn't need any attention— although they hadn't fully healed, he could confirm that the process wasn't being impeded by sea stone, but by a weakened regeneration. He also couldn't figure out the cause of his coma.
After a lot of frustration, they could only move Marco to the bed to rest, but the ship's doctor still noticed something wrong. "Boss," he said, "look here."
He pointed at the bird's chest. The light blue flames flickered, but there was no familiar mark.
Shanks was too anxious to notice before, and Marco was lying on the bed so they had missed the difference. Shanks parted his soft, fluffy feathers between his fingers and found no trace of his tattoo. That was strange; it was a mark that wouldn't disappear even through his regeneration.
After carefully replacing the phoenix, the men present exchanged glances. At that moment, the bird on the bed moved— Shanks watched him crack open his eyes a sliver, then suddenly close them. He wasn't bad at pretending to sleep and if Shanks had missed the subtle movement, he might've been fooled.
Something was wrong. Shanks didn't ask the question that lingered at the tip of his tongue. Although he found the situation interesting, the Phoenix's reaction was as though he was in an unfamiliar place where his safety couldn't be guaranteed. But why was Marco so wary of him, as if they'd never met?
At the moment, Marco was also a little confused. The last thing he remembered was struggling to escape. The people who had captured him had slashed his belly open with a knife and nearly cut off his wings, they were about to tie him up, and there might have been poison on the knife. He'd lost consciousness, and then woken up in a daze in bed. There were people nearby, but he wasn't tied up. The bed swayed slightly, and fragments of conversation carried on around him.
If he was caught, he should've been in a cage. If he'd been sold, the situation would have been the same. Did someone rescue him? Or was it another trap?
Marco, who suffered a lot from a young age because he ate a strange fruit that turned him into a bird, couldn't be sure that he was safe now. He pretended to be unconscious but was frantically weighing his options. Fortunately, the ones who had him now had never seen his human form, they just wanted a rare bird. Maybe he could pretend and hope these strangers wouldn't notice that a bird covered in flames that could regenerate itself wasn't ordinary. That seemed to be his best option.
The little Phoenix, who had made up his mind but hadn't opened his eyes, felt himself be lifted by his wings. He raised his head and heard a strange voice say in an oddly familiar tone: "Marco, why haven't you opened your eyes? Your wound's healed, and there shouldn't be any other issues with the phoenix fruit."
How does he know my name? He knows me? Marco, who realized just now that it was the phoenix fruit that he had eaten, froze in terror. The child that hadn't yet learned to hide his thoughts forgot that he was pretending to be unconscious and stared, wide-eyed, feathers quivering in shock.
He finally saw the space he was in, the open door, and the solid wooden wall in front of it. Even if he rushed out, he might not know how to find an exit. He'd never met anyone in this room before; the man in a white coat was a little chubby, and the man with long silver hair was intimidating, with a cross-shaped scar on his temple that said he was not to be messed with. The man with red hair stood closest to him, looking at him with a smile, but he was the most intimidating of all.
Marco jumped back, determined to look like an ordinary animal. At this point, Shanks had already confirmed that this phoenix wasn't the one he was familiar with, he might not even have met Whitebeard yet, and must have been a guest from the past. The redhead was conflicted; he'd never seen the other man like this before. Even the first time they'd met, the blond boy who had rushed ahead of the other Whitebeard Pirates could knock Shanks down with his wings. He had never seen a phoenix with a wingspan even shorter than Gryphon's length, who had to hide away to protect himself.
Shanks suddenly felt a rush of amusement. "I know you can speak like this," he said. "Why don't you change back? Are you shy?"
Hearing this, the little blue bird's movements stiffened. His eyes flicked back and forth, as if looking for an opportunity to escape. If things continued like this, the little bird would be scared away. Shanks's reliable first mate sighed, went to close the door, and explained to the villagers that Marco would be leaving for a while. Then he gave the order to set sail.
They couldn't stay on Sphinx for long; the whereabouts of the Four Emperors always attracted attention, and they didn't know when Marco would change back. It was better to leave first and avoid drawing too many eyes to Sphinx. The rest of the crew seemed to have misunderstood the situation, and thought that their captain had truly stolen the Phoenix's pet so they weighed anchor and turned around at top speed. The lookout kept his eyes on the sky, intending to spot an incoming bird... and to snitch on his captain's location as soon as he arrived.
It wasn't possible to keep this a secret, and a dramatic 'hunt' was staged. Gambling was a favorite pastime of the crew, and a lively betting pool was established around the mast with odds that didn't speak well at all of their captain. The officers didn't participate— Yasopp's keen vision had already confirmed for him that the little bird was the Phoenix himself, and Beckman's dour expression was further proof.
The bet concluded when Shanks emerged holding the hand of a boy who looked about four years old. There was silence on deck, and then the ship rocked with the surprised yelling that ensued. That chaotic scene made Marco duck behind Shanks's calf, but then he was pushed into the crowd. The little bird was surrounded by curious crewmembers in the blink of an eye.
He realized he was on a pirate ship half an hour later. Even though the proudly flying flag wasn't hidden from view, his head spun from being carried around in the crowd. When he looked up, all he could see were the weapons strapped to the waists and bellies of the pirates. Marco had no time to pay attention to the ship. The fierce aura of the crowd was unmistakable no matter how hard they tried to hide it— not that they tried to hide it. Marco's anxiety ratcheted up when he saw the flag, but strangely he wasn't afraid.
Maybe it was because the environment was so much better than what he feared when he passed out, or perhaps the red-headed captain's description of the future was just too bizarre. The newspaper put the date at decades in the future and the crewmembers seemed to know him, despite their perplexed expressions and incomprehensible words.
There were no holes in their story, and there was no need to put this much effort into trying to fool him. The wary little bird already believed them. Moreover, he was on a pirate ship with no idea of where land was, so he had no other choice but to trust them.
Marco looked up at the red-haired captain behind the crowd who happened to raise his head at the same time, taking his gaze as a request for help. Although he was obviously amused, he pulled him out of the group. Marco could see the kindness for what it was, and although he never imagined he would experience compassion from a pirate captain, he didn't think it was so bad...
Ten minutes later, Marco looked at the red-haired captain who was trying to cajole him into eating a caterpillar-shaped dessert made by his chef, saying that a bird should eat worms. With no expression on his face, Marco picked up the apple next to it and took a big bite. He was overthinking. Shanks was just immature.