Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This has got to be a record.” Thatch sidled up beside him, an undisguised awe in his voice as they watched over the chaos from Marco’s perch of the day.

Marco didn’t deign the comment worthy of response. A soul-deep exhaustion raking his false-immortal flesh at the utter anarchy playing out across the Moby Dick’s deck.

Swords, maces, and the like clashing in battles between the crew and those they’d been in the midst of absorbing as crew. Though, Marco could actually make out some of his brothers fighting on the side of their newest recruits.

As if to drive that fact home, a certain characteristic laugh of one of Marco’s many brothers rang out across the deck from the chaotic battle. ”Zhahahaha! You’re all out of shape!”

“Teach sure is having fun,” Thatch snickered, wincing at a particularly heavy handed hit by the piano-teethed man upon one of their other brothers. His voice taking on a more wryly tone as they continued to watch. “You know, I think I’m losing my touch. He complimented the cherry pie I made earlier…”

“That doesn’t bode well, yoi.” Marco snorted, it was not a secret amongst the crew that Teach’s taste buds were screwed and anything the man thought tasted good belonged amongst the nine layers of hell.

Despite the easygoing lull of their conversation, there was an undeniable tension winding up in their figures.

Marco wasn’t sure how to feel about witnessing such blatant betrayal, even if it is a mock riot. And a mockery it is. The rioters, though greatly outnumbered, weren’t even taking them seriously. A kind of duplicitous ease to their form as if to say they didn’t see anyone on this ship as a threat beyond its reigning Captain.

The same bastards, who not a month and a half ago had been clobbered by them. As heart warming as their pathetic attempt to rescue their captain had been, their strength had been pitiful. Still is pitiful, which made their attitude all the more irritating. 

It pricked at Marco’s pride but he’d let it go given Pops was so intent on taking them in. What Marco couldn’t stomach was the various burns now marring their Adam Wood deck, and the fires a designated group of his brothers were working desperately to put out.

And by the Seas, Marco hadn’t even been aware fire could grow hot enough to set Adam Wood ablaze. The temperature required was far more than anything Marco’s own flames could reach even after more than a decade of experience out on the sea, yet here was a brat with not even two years of experience with his Devil Fruit managing it. Something to lose his mind over another time though.

Let’s not forget the splintered gaping hole in the ship, exposing Pops’ quarters to the open deck, from where the enormous — still slumbering — man had sent their newest recruit — and  instigator of this entire disaster — flying through. You’d think the kid would have learned by now that Pops tosses and turns a lot in his sleep.

That made five times this particular hole in wall would need to be patched and Marco was honestly contemplating just leaving it as an open window. Maybe Pops would enjoy a more open floor plan.

There hadn’t been a single peaceful day since they’d napped the crew, and Marco didn’t know how much more of this—this insanity, he could take before it drove him up the wall.

It’d been little more than a month. A single month, and they’d already needed to take the Moby in for semi-serious repairs two times. He’s talking the “will result in them being stranded at sea if not promptly fixed” kind and Pops did nothing but laugh at their spirit. 

Marco was going to lose what little hair he had left, even with the regenerative ability of his Fruit, if the cost of damages continued to spike.

All courtesy of the absolute imp their Pops was determined to have as his son. Well, and Thatch foolishly deciding to have the imp’s captured crew work under them. Honestly, whose idea was it to leave the new recruits under Thatch’s care?

“How long do you think they’ll last? Nobody’s ever resisted this long before, let alone dared put up such a fuss.” His brothers were no help either, Thatch especially with his awe and delight at the lively chaos ripe with potential mischief. The chef’s next words had Marco doing a double take though, “Maybe we ought to respect their wishes, it might do us some good to rethink how we do this.”

Surely, surely Thatch had been poisoned. Did one of the Spades have a mind control Devil Fruit they weren’t aware of? As far as they knew, the Spade’s Captain was the only Devil Fruit user on the crew. And for all their captain certainly wasn’t a planner, that Vice-captain Masked Deuce was far more levelheaded. Marco wouldn’t be surprised if they were hiding another Devil Fruit user amongst them, maybe that skull-obsessed weirdo, or that Banshee woman. Of course, it was entirely possible that the chef just had a delayed concussion from that last riot.

Mind you this was the fourth rebellion, as in this had happened three other times, led by Spades — who had even successfully convinced some of his brothers to join — in protest of being forced to join the Whitebeards. 

It’d been fascinating the first time, witnessing the sudden strength of the crew when backed by their captain, especially given how easily they’d clobbered the Spades earlier. But the novelty of such an interesting dynamic was swiftly lost, especially as they couldn’t do anything to harsh to the imp’s crew if they wanted the brat to join. 

Of all the people Marco expected to protest their methods, Thatch certainly had never come to mind. Despite being the most empathetic of their brothers, Thatch was always open to the prospect of more brothers to feed, prank, and conspire mischief with. The closest thing to protesting he’d done was ask Marco to address hazing between division members. 

By the Seas, Thatch had been the most enthusiastic about the Spades and their absolute Spitfire of a Captain becoming their brothers. Marco had been trying to convince the other to give up on it for weeks now but nothing worked.

Yet, Thatch was now looking at Marco like he was the one who wanted to keep the imp and his minions around?! He resents that! 

But Marco wasn’t his Pops’ Vice-Captain for nothing, and it didn’t take a genius to realize Thatch wasn’t just talking about giving up their current adoption targets.

Admittedly, it was a reasonable concern. Neither of them, nor any of the other Division Commanders, had even noticed the resentment still held by some of their brothers regarding their own forceful adoption or the subsequent adoption of others.

(Which, yeah understandable. Their Pops had adopted quite a few crews, each with their own respective rivalries and sworn enemies. It’d certainly leave Marco feeling resentful if someone who’d killed an old friend and crewmate or tortured you was suddenly adopted as your brother and you were told to play nice.)

Pops may say he loved all his sons equally, but that didn’t mean there weren’t subconscious favorites or that he even had time for all of them. As such, the woes of their lower ranked crewmates often went unheard. It’d been a matter Marco did his best to remain willfully ignorant too, after all there was never a good time to bring it up with Pops. At least, until now.

Marco highly doubts Portgas D. Ace, the spitfire super rookie captain of the Spade Pirates, had meant to but his steadfast refusal to give in had given some of their brothers the courage to speak out their own grievances. 

Sure, the majority still appeared perfectly content with life as a Whitebeard, but if they didn’t address those aired grievances they were leaving themselves open to a knife in the back. And unfortunately they were no longer in a position where they could get away with or afford to ignore them. Regardless, Marco was not looking forward to bringing it up with Pops.

Has Marco already talked about how much he dreaded the very idea of the Spade’s Captain joining them? By the fifth day, he’d actually contemplated transforming, grabbing the brat, and dropping him on some distant island, where the demon spawn’s crew would undoubtedly follow.

The Spades themselves were manageable, and decent enough company. Portgas though, was a feral thing. All taunts, claws, and teeth. An absolute imp and spitfire with actual flames to assist in his craft.

Marco had his fair share of experience dealing with Ds, but nothing could have prepared him for this. This rabid fiery ball of anger and spite, that did not hesitate, and did not know when to quit.

Ace was a literal Hellcat disguised as a human, and no one could convince him otherwise. By the Seas, the Spades have an honest-to-god lynx on their crew, a cowardly feline named Kotatsu, that acted more human than the feral spitfire. 

He was not being biased just because the little shit had tried to eat him that first week. 

“Uh oh,” Thatch chuckled nervously, though Marco did not miss the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, “our resident spitfire is looking—er, heading—this way…”

Correction, has been trying to eat him.

Marco didn’t even have time to process Thatch’s purposefully delayed warning, let alone take flight before he was tackled to deck. Yelling—squawking—indignantly at this betrayal, as he struggled against the assault of the demonic hellcat. Thatch had set him up!

Apparently, witnessing Ace spend every waking minute planning and attempting to assassinate their Pops wasn’t enough. No, his brothers just had to assist Ace in his attempts to murder and eat Marco too!

What did he do to deserve a family like this? The phoenix wanted to cry, but there was no time for bitter tears whilst avoiding a feral brat’s teeth. Marco didn’t even know what he did to earn the hellcat’s ire in the first place.

It’d been a relatively peaceful afternoon, what with it coming up to their second week of unsuccessful attempts to convert the Spades. They’d all been enjoying a lovely normal meal — after Ace had tried to poison them all the day prior — and Marco had been convinced the hellcat was too exhausted to start anything after his punishing beat down courtesy Pops that morning.

As such, he’d paid the scheming eyes of the Spades no mind when they suddenly started teasing their captain. A mistake. He should’ve realized they were up to something the second they started praising Marco’s flames. 

Instead, he’d foolishly believed they were finally getting somewhere with the brats. Brats that had proved themselves ridiculously loyal to their prideful blazing hellfire captain. What an idiot he was, trusting the crew of a feral imbecile like Portgas D. Ace to be sensible.

Then again, even then he’d underestimated the spiteful fury of demon cats. Marco never stood a chance, saved only by the intervention of his brothers, who were equally caught off guard by the brat’s sudden change in target. Especially, when the hellcat had just been given a bruising battering lesson by Pops to not involve his children in his assassination attempts. 

Thatch would say he was being dramatic, but it’s not like the cook was the one the demon cat tried to eat!

Even now, Marco could the little shit’s crew egging their Captain on, shouting nonsense like “Eat his flames!” or “Your fire needs to be stronger than that!”, at one point someone had shouted “You can’t leave him alive, he’s a potential love rival!”

Again, Marco didn’t know what he did except exist in the hellcat’s proximity. He sure as hell would bet Thatch had some inkling though, given the absolute amusement on his face.

Marco was going to kill him. They didn’t need to worry about potential knives in the back because Marco was going to look his asshole of a brother in the face and strangle him to death. At least, he would once he escaped the stupid hellcat. 

Thatch would admit, he felt the slightest bit of guilt for setting Marco up. But the sight of their typically calm and collected Vice-Captain flailing about in his phoenix form as he fought to escape Thatch’s newest brother — whether the spitfire joined the crew or not — made it absolutely worth it.

The only thing that would make it better was if he knew why their newest recruits were so fixated on Marco. As for all that Ace continued to target Pops, the firecracker’s focus had rather abruptly shifted toward the Phoenix.

It’d been a startling shift. Especially given the prideful young captain had been doing his utmost to avoid his crew since their capture. Still Thatch had a front row seat to the way the spitfire’s face grew darker with every word of praise toward Marco, the pupils of those mercury eyes shrinking like that of a wild feline locking on its prey.

Thatch supposed, it was on them for foolishly believing a spitfire like Ace could ever manage to form such an obedient crew. They shouldn’t have been so surprised that the youth’s crew knew how to deal with their stubborn captain, especially that Masked Deuce. Had Thatch not been freaking out with the rest of his brothers over rescuing Marco, he might’ve shed a few tears at the oddest “reunion” between a pirate crew he’d seen to date. 

The Whitebeards had stood a real good chance of recruiting Ace, but the second the stubborn youth’s self-imposed isolation ended, well that opportunity had been snatched away. Rather than recruiting new brothers, it seemed to Thatch that they’d merely provided the Spades the opportunity to prove to their captain that they were always with him. With the bond between Captain and crew reaffirmed, strengthened by their trust in each other, well this brother-acquisition was a bust.

It was still startling, how abruptly everything shifted the second Ace stopped avoiding his crew, though. By the Seas, the entire dynamic of the Moby Dick had been flipped on its head. The Spades were a riot, both figuratively and literally. 

Now if Thatch could only figure out how, what, and why. Just like their oddball captain, the Spades sporadic comments were a confusing irritating mesh of scattered information that never gave the full picture. Which was unfortunate, because of what little Thatch had understood his newest honorary brother had a crush!

Look, Thatch loved Marco, but this was his chance to be an Uncle! He could have a niece or nephew to spoil! And obviously, the flaming turkey was a greatly unwelcome threat for this new couple to sail. So Marco would have to suck it up for a bit, besides his sacrifice would be held in great esteem. 

Even Pops agreed with Thatch! And it wasn’t like Marco would be giving them little ones so they’d rest their hopes on Ace. Maybe they could use this as an opportunity to send Marco on vacation too, the seas knew he needed it.

“Oi!” Today’s designated lookout crowed, pulling everyone’s attention. “Ship approaching from the starboard!” 

There was a pause in the crowd, but their  hellcat recruit did not cease his attack on their resident flaming turkey.

“Marines?” Izou, paying them no mind, asked.

”Doesn’t look like it!”

”Let’s just hope it’s not more rookies,” Vista snorted, “the Seas know our hands are full with the ones we got now.” 

Thatch certainly agreed, they’d been lucky this month not encountering any enemy crews while the Spades weren’t still resisting conversion. And while the Spades weren’t like the more dishonorable pirates on the seas, desperation often brought out the worst in men. They’d be in a pickle if the Spades decided to revolt seriously and left them fighting on two fronts.

The best option would be to lock up the rioters below deck for now, but that meant having to break up the fight between Marco and Ace, without having to taste those claws and flames himself. 

Thatch exchanged looks with Izou and Vista as they silently tried to decide who’d be given the job. A wasted effort, as the firecracker was springing away — not unlike a startled cat — from Marco seconds later. 

”It’s Akagami no Shanks!” The lookout announced with glee, “Looks like it’ll be a party tonight, brothers!”

Cheers erupted from the men on the deck, but Thatch only felt cold sweat drip down his spine in unison with his fellow Division Commanders. “Shit. What are we going to do with the Spitfire?”

They were royally fucked if the kid tried anything against Akagami…

Chapter Text

Marco wasn’t allowed even a second to catch his breath from his latest assault. His fire working overtime to heal the honest-to-god teeth indents across his arms, along with the various scratches clawed in his red heat-irritated flesh.

(For how shitty the hellcat’s grasp of Haki is, his feral savagery and the ridiculous strength of his flames more than made up for it. Marco still stands behind his words that Logia’s like Ace were too reliant on their fruits.)

The second the words, “Akagami Pirates”  left the lookout’s mouth, Marco could feel the beginnings of a migraine. The First Mate immediately directing the crew of his brothers and regretfully moving to wake Pops. 

The Phoenix would forever rue the day that asshat of a redhead entered the ranks of the Yonko. The bastard and his crew of drunks always egging on Pops to drink more and more despite the old pirate’s health. And as if that wasn’t bad enough the guy was always harassing Marco, asking him to ditch Pops and join his crew.  

This wasn’t even considering the nightmare that was Shanks knocking out their weaker brothers with his Conquerer’s Haki. As such in the hustle and bustle erupting from the impending arrival of the Akagami Pirates, the Spades’ completely slipped from Marco’s mind. Besides, it was Thatch’s job to be watching over the new recruits after all.

Which was undoubtedly a mistake, as Thatch appeared sheepishly at his side claiming he couldn’t locate the brats.

Because as it turns out, the spitfire’s crew was irritatingly adapt at hiding their Haki signature. And with Pops covering the ship in his own — as the giant of a man always did in an attempt to protect their weaker brothers from Shanks’ — locating them would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Yet all the more unbelievable is such a chaotic loud mouth of a Captain from hell being capable of any amount of stealth. This is a brat who made poorly-controlled wrath, fiery fury, and raging shouting as he attacked practically his trademark. So of course, when they’d love nothing more than the brat being his usual loud spitball self, he suddenly grew capable of astonishing acts of self-discipline.

Unsurprisingly, with the way the asshole just up and vanished at the worst of times, well the murderous spitfire’s feline and imp ancestry was without doubt. 

Not that Marco had any ounce of admiration for the youth shutting his mouth! Especially not when the Red Force and its blasted Captain are rapidly approaching!

Returning to his human form, Marco pulled at the tuft of hair on his scalp, uncaring for the sheepish Thatch’s empathetic pats on his back. 

The Phoenix moaned in despair, “We’re doomed, yoi!”

“Oi, Chief!” Limejuice yelled from his post atop the crow’s nest down towards where his captain, Shanks was nursing a headache — one surprisingly not related to alcohol — amongst the rambunctious Akagami crew. “I’ve got eyes on the Moby Dick!”

”I’d sure hope you do!” Yasopp scoffed, shouting back up at the former shipwright-turned communications officer. “Taking that long to spot a ship as big as a small island. Must be losing your touch, Limejuice!”  

“Hah!?” Limejuice scowled from up above, “I don’t want to hear that from a near-sighted sniper, who forgets the size of his wife’s nose—no offense, Banchina!”

“It’s actually far-sighted.” The wife of the sniper in question rolled her eyes, calling up. “And none taken.”

”I’ll show you near—er—far-sighted!” The sniper screeched, whether taking offense on his wife’s behalf or the diss upon his skill as a sniper unknown. “Bonk, Monster! Queue the boss music!”

Off to the side, the talented monkey Monster snickered from his perch atop Bonk Punch’s shoulder. The primary musicians of the ship, eagerly retrieving their instruments in preparation for providing ambience.

“Wait,” before the pair could even get the first note out, the sharpshooter froze with a stuttering bout of whiplash, “that’s not the point—don’t talk about my wife like that!”

It turns out the cause of his offense wasn’t so unknown as previously thought.

”Great to see where I stand with my husband.” Banchina snorted, rolling her eyes as she ditched her man on the deck to stand at the helm with Building Snake and Howling Gab. “Today’s weather is looking to be sunny with a high chance of bloodshed. What say you, Snake?”

“I’d argue these clear skies are a red herring for the typhoon on the horizon.” Their navigator, Building Snake, chuckling as he gave his own predictions. “Based on the wind and currents, we’ll reach the Moby in twenty minutes.”

”Twenty minutes?” The big brute of a man that was their Helmsman, Howling Gab smirked, “Ye of little faith! I can cut that down to ten.”

”Pft—“ Building Snake snorted, rolling his eyes at his crewmate’s confidence. “I said it’ll be twenty, so that’s what it’ll take, you arrogant ass.”

”Tis be the New World’s Sea, ya sore Snake!” Gab argued, glaring at the navigator beside him. “And ya not a witch that can predict the weather!” 

Idling at their side, Banchina shook her head in fond amusement at the familiar argument. Truly fire and ice this pair of idiots. She should be more concerned that the ship’s navigator and helmsman were forever bickering, but she trusted they’d work together in a tight spot. 

Regardless of the inner working of their relationship, Banchina drew their attention with a snicker, “Ten or twenty, what does it matter!”

“Is that a challenge I hear, Ban-chan?” Howling Gab inquired with an intrigued grin, his fanged jaws on display.

Building Snake asking after his eyes  narrowed on the ship’s former navigator, “Think you could do better, Ban-chan?”

”Nothing like that,” The sole female on board grinned, dismissing their words, “but do the lot of ya, think the Chief will manage to sit on deck that long with our target in sight?”

Her question had the pair of men pausing, looking at her sly grin with wary eyes. “That’s a good point…”

“I bet 15,000 Berries, that in the next five minutes, the Chief will ditch us and use Geppo* to the Moby!” Her lips quirking up with malicious confidence as she placed her bet.

“Five minutes is too soon!” Howling Gab snorted, “Betcha 20,000 Berries that he’ll manage until we’re at least five minutes away before ditching us!”

“10,000, that he doesn’t even sky-walk, just launches himself off the ship.” Building Snake interjected. 

“Oi, what kind of sissy amount is that?!” Gab scoffed, Banchina nodding in agreement, both their protests falling on deaf ears. 

Even without a drop of alcohol in sight, the deck of the Red Force was alive. The Yonko crew bustling with activity and banter between crewmates. All the while, in another corner of the deck, a different type of interactions were occurring. 

“I’m going to cut him apart one inch at a time starting with his arms…” The redheaded captain growled, muttering darkly to himself. The murmured threats growing progressively more violent causing the crew around him to snicker. 

“Shouldn’t you be excited, Chief?” Lucky Roux laughed through a mouthful of meat. “Partying with the Whitebeards’ is the perfect excuse to drink!”

“Did you forget, Roux?” Beckman interjected sounding far too amused by it all. “No parties today. We’re on a mission to take out a certain someone.”

”Ehh?! No party!?” Yasopp exclaimed with overdramatized surprise, pulling himself from where he’d been struggling to snipe at Limejuice with his wife’s slingshot and a packet of hot sauce. “Chief, shouldn’t we be celebrating? You’re always asking him to join the crew!”

”Asking? More like harassing him.” Banchina snorted, a knowing look in her eyes that none of the men liked. “Though hopefully the Chief isn’t too hurt that his affections were turned down in favor of his own son.”

”Hah! You owe me 1,000 berries, Yasopp!” Limejuice shouted in triumph, landing on the deck. “I knew the Chief was flirting!”

”Are we talking about the Chief’s crush?” Hongo inquired with a snort as he returned from inventory-check in the infirmary. “He wouldn’t be the worst person to have join us. It’s too bad his interests lay in younger men—er, well younger men than you, Chief.”

“Who would’ve thought the guy was such a deviant!” Building Snake cackled. “This is prime blackmail material! Chief, he may not return your affection but this is the perfect opportunity to force him to join the crew.”

”Give the Chief a break, guys.” Beckman laughed, momentarily basking in Shanks’ grateful eyes before turning away with a sly grin. “His future husband instead turned out to be his future son-in-law.”

Shanks scowled his face darkening with their every teasing word of ‘encouragement’. Typically, he was more accepting of this type of teasing from his crew. The asshats always going on about his fixation on Whitebeard’s Vice-Captain, and especially his attempts to poach the man. But he was still processing this utter betrayal—so of course, he wasn’t in the mood!

His voice raised in hysterics as he roared in protest, “Absolutely not! How old is he—too old that’s what! How dare he seduce my precious Cale?! I trusted that bastard!”

The redhead raged, raving and spiting in a fury fitting of his griffen-dragon hybrid of a spirit. 

“And have you seen that—that pineapple’s face?! What if my grandson takes after his ugly mug and not after Cale!?”

The crew watched in awed amusement as their Chief, the infamous Akagami no Shanks, worked himself up into a murderous rage.

”I’ll show that damn turkey a fire, we’ll see if he’s still so smug after he’s roasted on a spike.”

“Great idea, Chief! I know a lot of great recipes for roasted turkey!” Lucky Roux cheered, egging the man on as he listed the various ways they could prepare this specific “turkey”.

“They know he’s not actually a turkey, right?” Off to the side, Bonk Punch couldn’t help but sweat-drop as he sidled over to sole couple onboard, “They’re not gonna actually try to eat him, right? They’re not gonna have us eat him, right?!”

At the musician’s cornered words, the sharpshooter’s eyes widened in horror as a potential impending future dawned upon them. The man, with fear-blown eyes, hollering over to his wife in hysterics, “Surely not, right Love?! I mean Devil Fruits taste awful—they have too, if even Lu complained about them! So Devil Fruit users probably won’t taste good either!”

“That’s what you’re worried about?!” Banchina screeched at her husband, utterly incredulous at the shift in conversation. “Not the hypothetical act of literal cannibalism?!”

“But this is serious!” Yasopp insisted, Monster nodding along seriously. “Devil Fruits are said to be one of the most disgusting tasting things in the world!”

At the helm, Building Snake and Howling Gab stared at the unfolding chaos with a mix of amusement, exasperation, and bit of genuine concern over their futures.

The ship’s helmsman leaning over to speak to the navigator and scientist with honest bewilderment, “Would it even be possible to roast a phoenix? I mean the bird’s whole shtick is fire…”

”I mean his flames are more regenerative than anything, no? So really it’s just a question of whether he’d burn or heal faster.” Building Snake answered rather seriously.

“Admittedly, I’m rather intrigued now.” Beside them, the Scientist of the Akagami Pirates admitted, despite her earlier screeching at her husband. “Perhaps we ought to head for Big Mom and her lot after all this is over to run some tests?”

Back on the deck, the Doctor of the Akagami Pirates, Hongo emerged from below just in time to give his own input.

“While I’d certainly have some concerns regarding cannibalism, I do wonder if being a Devil Fruit user—and a Phoenix at that—would negate some of them.” Hongo hummed in intrigue, joining Lucky Roux and Shanks, his eyes sparking with an crazed curiosity. “It’s possible that his flesh could grant regeneration much like his flames.”

Benn Beckman, First Mate of the Akagami Pirates, released a heavy sigh of grief for the crew’s collectively deteriorating sanity and intelligence.

He swears they get stupider with each passing day. Yet despite believing so he to did not hesitate to offer his own suggestion, “It might be better to boil him, Chief. If it’s done correctly the water will weaken him enough to stunt his regeneration enough to make the process all the more excruciating.”

His lips creeping up in a dark mimicry of a smile, as his crewmates inched away from him though Shanks, Hongo, and Lucky listened intently, “There’s the added benefit of the mental pain too, given Oden was boiled alive by Kaido as well, and the Whitebeards’ did nothing to avenge him.”

Shivering in a corner of the deck, Yasopp and Monster clung to each other, even the generally deadpan Bonk Punch staring at their First Mate in horror. The sniper gasping in terror, “Robin-chan got Benn*!”

All the while, up in the crow’s nest, Limejuice hung up the Den Den after giving the Whitebeard’s a very vague explanation of their visit. The Communications Officer of the Akagami Pirates, watching the unfolding chaos with a malicious grin as the Moby Dick grew ever closer.

Visits from Shanks and his crew weren’t entirely common place, but they happened enough to be familiar. Many of those aboard the Moby falling into the familiar routine of preparing for the youngest Yonko’s arrival, even kindly bringing out the gang plank, though few of the Redhairs’ actually used it. All while, warnings were passed to newer members and bets were placed regarding those who ignored them.

Marco ignored it all, coming to stand at his Pops’ right, his body pulled taunt with tension like a too tight string. Usually, he didn’t stand quite so close to Pops, preferring to stand to the side with the other commanders… but there was no saying how this meeting would go, and most importantly how it would end.

Haruta had taken the call from Red Force, earlier. When the Red Force was first visible over the horizon. Had said he’d asked about their intentions, and had only been told that they wanted to talk. Nothing about what they wanted to talk about. And that left Marco anxious, especially with the Spades remaining suspiciously absent from the deck.

As easy-going the opposing Yonko may be, and for all Marco had practically grown up with the brat, that didn’t change the fact Red-hair was a rival Captain. A rival Yonko Captain, who unlike Pops, was still very much in his prime despite having lost an arm.

Not that the Phoenix didn’t have faith in his Pops, but Akagami no Shanks was hard enough to handle as is—especially in recent years after yet another altercation between the Yonko and Teach, had the Newest Emperor constantly challenging Pops’ pride. And they weren’t exactly in a great position for their pairs inevitable posturing at the moment.

Because it wouldn’t be just the Akagami Pirates they’d be dealing with. Somewhere on board, likely bidding their time to strike, were the Spade Pirates and their murderous hellcat of a captain. A reckless spitfire, who’d absolutely proven himself an unrelenting force of nature, and who wouldn't give a damn for the consequences should he attack either Yonko’s in the midst of this visit.

Should he attack Pops in the midst of whatever chat Shanks wanted, not only would it make Pops lose face, but it’d leave a stain of the Whitebeard’s reputation. An embarrassing display of mutiny — though Ace and the Spades had yet to join the crew — made especially damaging given all the warnings Shanks had given them about who they let join their little “family”.

And if Ace tried to attack Shanks, they could only pray the man took it in good humor else they lose their future brother or it ignites a war. This wasn’t even considering the other possibilities, seeing as the Spades could very well try to take this as an opportunity to escape them whether by sneaking aboard the Red Force or directly asking the rival pirates for help.

The Hellcat was undeniably a flight risk — for all the youth was insistent on never running away from a fight — and keeping that in mind, the Whitebeards’ hadn’t stopped at an island since kidnapping them*. 

Needless to say, Marco did not have a good feeling about this visit. And it certainly didn’t help that his Pheonix instincts were screaming danger like never before as the Red Force got ever closer. The tension clearly displayed in the puffy state of his ruffled flaming feathers, a sight reminiscent to typical intimidation tactics in birds, as he subconsciously slid into his hybrid—half-human half-pheonix—form in his discomfort. 

Unfortunately, the wait was up, as long before the Red Force was even close to pulling up beside the Moby Dick, Shanks was shooting across the sea with Geppo. Marco’s brothers shouting in surprise and shock at his speed.  

The tension in the atmosphere finally noticed by Pops and the rest of the crew, though it was now far too late. Marco hated that he was familiar enough with the bastard that the sound of his voice sent a shivering dread down the Pheonix’s spine. 

”Permission to board.” Shanks asked—no, stated—for no other reason than sheer habit. It was not a question, not even a half-hearted meaningless platitude, as the Redhead, without a care for the fact he was disrespecting Pops, landed easily atop the Moby Dick’s railing.

”Granted.” Whitebeard called regardless, watching as the younger man strolled across the deck with his eyes shadowed by his hair. The old captain scoffing under his breath at the younger Yonko’s behavior, though he let it slide likely only due to the fact Shanks—for once—was reigning in his Haki. “To what do we owe this visit, Brat?”

Right then and there Marco should’ve known this was not destined to be a pleasant visit. Shanks despite his youth and easygoing style, was a Yonko for a reason—and while Marco would never tell the man so, Shanks was also arguably the most dangerous out of the Four Emperors, or at least had the potential to be. 

For all Kaido, Big Mom, and—as much as it hurt Marco to admit—Pops were technically more experienced, they were old and stuck in their ways. And Shanks for all his laidback attitude when it came to the Politics of the high seas, was the most cunning scheming bastard amongst them, blessed as he was with the mental fortitude and flexibility of youth. 

It was for this same reason that when the beginnings of Pops’ crew grew weary and spread their wings for bigger things, Marco was appointed Pops’ First Mate, something that the Pheonix complained to Whitey Bay about it often.

The other’s had said it was because they trusted Marco, that he’d earned it. But his eldest sister had confessed it was really because he was the only original member remaining that was still willing to deal with Pops growing arrogance and senility. Which, yeah that was fair, Marco may not have been originally deserving of the position but he’d grown into it he loved Pops too much not to.

(The Pheonix tried desperately not to think about a promise that was left unfulfilled and would likely remain so. Tried not to think about the ache of his heart whenever he ran into a certain brat. Nor about the pitying looks his elder siblings often gave him these days on those rare reunions, which had only ramped up upon a specific redhead taking his place as amongst the Yonko.)  

With Marco around, Pops could brush off Shanks’ subtle power plays as tantrums all he wanted, as the Pheonix would pick up the slack… Ugh—this always happened when that red-haired bastard showed up.

The sight — and occasionally even the mere mention— of the other always left him feeling out of sorts and thinking about things that didn’t matter.

Anyways, the point is that Shanks was — is — dangerous, far more than Pops was ever willing to give the youth credit for. Which meant it’d be up to Marco to salvage whatever relationship would remain between their two crews after whatever inevitable fight occurred between the two Yonko’s.

Despite thinking all this, Marco shifted anxiously, his chest constricting with something that felt suspiciously like hurt as the Redhead didn’t even grace the Pheonix with a glance. The Yonko ignoring Marco’s very existence for the first time in literal years. It was a break from an old dance of theirs, a dance that had started even before Red Hair had his own crew. The redhead always asking, remaining undeterred despite every single rejection.

The Pheonix didn’t understand why it hurt so much that he wasn’t immediately greeted with an enthusiastic invitation to join the other’s crew, he should be thrilled that the other finally got the hint. Wasn’t Marco complaining not ten minutes ago about having to deal with the man-child?

“We need to talk about a certain son of yours.” Shanks said coldly as he lifted his head to glare up at the oldest Yonko. 

“Oh, did you not understand my words during our last meeting, Red-Hair?” Whitebeard frowned, he’d told the youngest Yonko in no uncertain terms that he would no longer entertain anymore “chats” regarding Teach.

Yet here the brat was back at it again, testing Whitebeard’s temper and patience. For the brat to purposefully show up while Teach was still onboard, and loudly declare they needed to talk before all Edward’s sons, it was unacceptable.

Whatever Shanks was scheming, Whitebeard wouldn’t allow him to sow discord in his family. His voice booming in his irritation startling a number of Marco’s brothers at the sudden volume. “I will hear nothing more from you about my sons, you impertinent brat!”

“You’re clearly getting old, always jumping to conclusions.” Shanks scoffed, unimpressed by Pops tactics of intimidation. “I agreed to stop wasting my breath on you regarding that matter, but what I wish to talk about today is an unrelated matter.” 

Marco’s ship brothers bristled at the insult to Pops, and they were not alone in that as the Pheonix shifted in discomfort. As arrogant as Pops claimed Shanks to be, the opposing Yonko was never disrespectful or rude on purpose, not like he was being now.

Which meant this was serious. One of Marco’s brothers — who was unexpectedly not Teach this time — had crossed the line of Shanks’ tolerance. And if they didn’t handle this properly it could very well mean all out war between the two crews, a war that the Akagami Pirates would have the upper hand in. After all, they’d been unaware of any conflicts or skirmishes occurring recently that’d put them at odds with the youngest Yonko…

Unless this was about something that Ace and his Spades had done, in which case given the Hellcat’s youth Shanks would probably let them all go with a warning… hopefully… as long as Pops doesn’t blow it all out of proportion and the troublemaker didn’t do anything to bad. 

“Pops.” Bearing that in mind, Marco interjected giving his Pops a meaningful look, before straightening and turning to Shanks. “We’d appreciate it if you’d explain, without blatantly disrespecting Pops. Clearly, we’ve crossed a line and upset you, Red—“ 

“You!” Shanks snarled, honest to god snarled, as he interrupted him. The pressure of the Yonko’s fury so great that even without releasing his grasp on his Haki, Marco’s ship brothers began to fall to the deck foaming at the mouth. The Pheonix not even having a moment to address it as Shanks leveled him with a downright furious — practically murderous— glare that cut straight through the older First Mate and had him almost unconsciously taking a step back, “No shit, I’m upset with you, Marco!” 

Those still standing of his brothers, who’d been subtly preparing for a fight, froze as they too turned to stare uncomprehendingly at Marco.

“Woah, woah! Hold on a second! Marco, as in the old flaming turkey, Marco?” Thatch interrupted, sounding utterly incredulous and surprised, not at all anxious or concerned about his brother’s safety. “What did he do? Hey, Marco what did you do?!”

“Oi,” Marco frowned, directing his eyes away from the redhead whose glare felt like knives in his chest, “why are you assuming I did something, yoi!” 

Thatch waved him off, “Clearly you did something! I mean, this is Shanks! The guy’s had a massive crush on you FOREVER! He literally never gets mad at you!” 

To Marco’s great despair — and absolute annoyance — the remaining Division Commanders and Pops echoed their own curious agreement of Thatch’s words. 

“You—“ Marco scowled at his siblings and father, “—Oi, Red! I think there’s been a misunderstanding I—“

”Misunderstanding?!” The Yonko spit furiously, his generally upstanding self-restraint failing as his hand gripped his saber. “What’s there to not understand! I trusted you, and you fucking seduced my son!”

”WHAT?!” 

Much to Marco’s mutual dismay and relief, in the multitude of voices making up that ear-piercing screech of shared surprise and confusion, was the remarkably clear voice of a certain demonic hellcat who’d finally made his presence known.

Even in his absolute fury, Shanks could easily pick out the Firecracker’s voice amongst Whitebeard’s crew.

And for a second, the surprise of hearing the feral brat was enough to snap him out angering spitting out accusations.

“Eh, Firecracker?” The Redhead turning to look at the frozen brat that surely had been hiding on the Red Force, which the youngest emperor distantly noticed had finally pulled up beside the Moby.

“Err—Hey, Shanks.” The freckled youth managed rather sheepishly, looking suspiciously awkward and guilty…

Shanks payed it no mind, the brat was probably embarrassed he’d gotten caught because he couldn’t keep quiet. “It’s been a while, brat. Nice to see you’re still alive.”

“Yep—“ the kid squeaked, uncharacteristically backing away toward the Red Force as if he was trying to flee from something, “—it’s great to be alive!”

That was all Shanks needed. His eyes narrowing in suspicion at the brat, “Didn’t you say you weren’t going after Whitebeard anymore?”

“Well, yeah—“

Shanks interrupted, forcing a warm grin on his face, “Aww, wait were you worried about me, Ace? Did you come to back me up?”

“That’s exactly why!” No sooner than the agreement left the kid’s mouth was the brat booking it for the Red Force, Shanks shooting right after him with Gryphon drawn.

“You little fucker! He was talking about you!? After everything I did for you and this is how you repay me?”

“Luffy said you gave your blessing!”

“Never in a million years would I give you my blessing you my blessing!”

“Yeah, well good thing I wasn’t planning to ask for permission—“ Ace screeched in a mix of fear, anger, and irritation. “—Oi, watch where you’re swinging that!“

”You fucking seduced my precious son!”

”He’s the one who seduced me!” 

“You fucking Liar!”