Archive of Our Own ^beta

Izou had never been scared of the dark. As a child, the cover of darkness meant cover from his father and his alcohol-induced fits. But after today, the darkness was a grim reminder the force that had ripped Pops away from them and shattered what was left of their family.

The war had been lost, obviously. When Marco realized it was lost, he ordered the remaining Whitebeard Commanders to scatter. They did so in small groups with Jozu and Namur covering each other; Haruta, Rakuyo, and Kingdew vanishing into dense forest; and Izou, Vista, and Marco commandeering a small boat and taking to the sea, where Teach-as powerful as he was-would be foolish to chase them.

The boat they managed to wrangle was nothing more than an enlarged dingy with a sail. Vista and Izou sat at the stern with Vista leaning against the side, gripping bloody bandages. Marco stood at the bow, navigating the sorry-looking trio through the darkness. The waters of the New World felt as hostile as the darkness enveloping them, especially in their tiny getaway raft.

Marco had done some basic triage on Vista to enure he wouldn't bleed out during their escape but had elected to save his already strained powers in case of an ambush. From the stern, Izou kept a hand firmly on his pistol as his vision combed the skies and listened beyond the wind in the sails and lapping waves. He stretches out his haki for good measure as well. All his senses yield no sign of pursuers.

In the darkness, the large pale mountain of Sphinx looms over them. Izou could feel his heartbeat slow ever so slightly at the sight of it. Marco eyes the mountain with uncharacteristic silence as he adjusts the sails. Still unable to shake the feeling they're being followed, Izou rises to his full height and surveys the surrounding ocean.

The absolute nothing in the darkness of the ocean and the sky behind them should be reassuring. All it does is call to mind that god-awful laugh and sadistic grin.

Without a word, Marco steers the boat towards the mouth of a cave, barely hidden by an enormous waterfall. Izou starts helping Vista to his feet, a painful process given the swordsman's obviously busted knee. Despite Izou having escaped with minimal injuries, given who their opponent was, being Vista's support still proved to be a challenge. Without a word, Marco took one of Vista's arms around his shoulders, taking some of the weight off Izou.

Marco lights a small flame in his free hand and leads the small group through the cave wordlessly, steady and reliable, like he usually is. Izou eyes the shadows around them, hand hovering over one of his pistols. After all the dirty tricks Teach pulled, every shadow feels like a personal enemy waiting to wipe them out for good.

Beyond the exit of the cave is a modest village nestled among gently rolling hills. The exact village where Pops grew up, Izou knows. Marco continues to lead them down a worn dirt path to a modest home and Izou can feel Vista's heartbeat slow by a few beats. For his own peace of mind, Izou reaches out with his haki one final time before entering.

Marco immediately lights a few candles and only then does the group collectively unclench their heavy muscles. The candles illuminate a sparsely furnished living area with a couple couches and a small kitchen in the corner. Beside the kitchen is a well-stocked medicine cabinet. It's unassuming and quiet, exactly what the group needs right now.

Izou helps Vista sit on one of the couches as carefully as he can manage, earning a grunt from the much larger man. There's dried blood crusted around a cut across his forehead, several darkening bruises dotted across his chest, and a large gash on his side hidden under Marco's hasty bandage job. Now in the safety of Sphinx's inconspicuousness, Marco could give Vista's wounds his full attention.

Meanwhile, Izou turns his attention to a mirror next to the medicine cabinet. Blood stains his eyelid and cheek from the large cut on his forehead and smaller cuts and bruises kiss his pale skin. His eye makeup was smudged, mingling with the dark circles under his eyes. Large sections of jet black hair had fallen over his shoulders and forehead, the contrast against his skin only further highlighting how wan he looked.

Izou wordlessly opens the medicine cabinet and everything is organized and labeled exactly as it was in the Moby Dick's infirmary. The thought brings a tear to Izou's eye that he blinks away.

Don't go there. He cautions himself as he grabs some ointment and starts dabbing it on his open wounds. He suppresses a hiss at the stinging sensation.

"Allow me," Marco says gently behind him.

Izou's almost jumps at the sound of Marco's voice. It had been hours since any of them had spoken. The blonde man waves his hand and the familiar blue glow of his healing flames cover the right side of Izou's vision. The warmth tingles under his skin, chasing away the pain. More tingles of warmth creep under the skin of his torso, directly targeting what Izou had suspected was a broken rib or two. Izou draws in a breath and sighs in contentment at the familiar sensation.

"Thank you, Marco." Izou says quietly, bowing his head.

When he meets Marco's eyes again, Izou is struck by how utterly spent Marco looks between the pronounced dark circles under his eyes and deepened wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. The two men are the same age but Marco somehow looks at least ten years older, especially in the low lighting of the room.

Izou glances over towards Vista, who had already fall asleep on the couch. His jacket had been removed and replaced with fresh bandages, also covered with Marco's flames. Head and upper torso were elevated on several cushions with his sword resting at the base of the couch. His face is lax as he sleeps, as if he's too exhausted to even form an expression.

"Marco-san?" A tiny voice calls through the darkness.

Izou's head whips towards the door, ready to draw his pistols. Marco holds up a hand and approaches the door, lifting his chin and cracking his neck in the process. He's preparing to put on a facade, Izou knows.

Marco open the door a little and just outside is a small girl with brown hair dressed in a simple white poncho and brown pants.

"Marco-san, are you planning to come by the bonfire tonight? Almost everyone is there and we would love to see you!" She asks earnestly, practically bouncing with excitement.

"I'm sorry, Oide, yoi," Marco starts gently. "I'm taking care of some of my friends tonight and can't join you and Tama by the bonfire."

A whine escapes the girl's throat. Marco ruffles her hair with a smile.

"There will be other bonfires and I'll be there. My friends need me tonight." Marco continues.

The girl smiles wide and nods. The sheer innocence of this child makes Izou's chest feel heavier. He wonders if Marco feels similarly, being the one wearing the mask in this situation.

Marco waves goodbye to the girl and closes the door. His face falls as soon as the door clicks closed and he crosses the room to the couch opposite Vista. He lets himself fall into the cushions, hanging his head in his hands. Izou takes a seat cross-legged beside him, brilliant blues and yellows still obscuring half of his vision. Even with half his vision blocked, Marco's shaking was evident.

"This is all my fault…" Marco sighs. "I wanted to get back at Teach and I almost got the rest of us killed in the process…"

Izou shakes his head. "We wouldn't have followed you into battle if we didn't believe in the cause. Teach betrayed all of us, not just you."

"I just wanted to protect what was left of Pops' territories and save his legacy…but my arrogance only allowed Teach to tear apart that legacy and claim more territory that was rightfully Pops'," Marco continues, his head dropping deeper between his knees. "We were all alive when I gave the order to scatter but beyond you and Vista and I can't even guarantee if the rest of our brothers are alive."

Izou balls the fabric of his yukata between his fists. Marco was right about the unknown status of their brothers but each and every one of them had been prepared for a fight to the death, as they had been for Ace's failed resuce mission as well. It was typical of Marco to assume the biggest burdens and tonight was no different.

Izou swallows back a sob before he spoke.

"What you displayed wasn't arrogance, Marco. Pops would've done the same for all of us, we all saw firsthand," Izou reassures. He takes Marco's tense hands into his own. "If we're still alive, it means Pops' legacy is still alive."

"We spent years building the foundation of Pops' legacy and now…" Marco's voice trails off. "What do we have to show for it?"

Izou watches Marco without a word.

"I always thought that when Pops died, we would take up the mantle as the protectors of his territories. But now with Teach in the same position Pops occupied and using it to grab as much power as he can…does it mean anything?" Marco dared to ask.

Izou has always turned to Marco for reassurance. But for the first time in the nearly thirty years they've known each other, Izou can't detect any semblance of reassurance. The lines on his face are heavy, his eyes are heavy, everything is just…heavy. Even the flame on Izou's forehead starts to feel a little colder.

Marco's mouth moves but nothing comes out. Izou grips Marco's hands a little tighter.

"I don't know anymore…" Marco says, his voice cracking.

Izou's breath is caught in his throat. Marco's tears are a rare sight-even among his fellow Commanders-and only seems to further signal the gravity of their defeat. The last time Marco had shed tears was at Marineford after bearing witness to the deaths of Ace and Pops. His tears were kept in check throughout the planning of the assault on Teach on his crew, during the fight itself, and even on the dingy they licked their wounds in.

Now that it was all over, there was no reason to try to hide them anymore.

Izou rests his forehead against Marco's and he, too, let the tears flow. They mingled with his already smudged eye makeup and ran down his face in dark rivets as their situation finally sank in.

Pops was gone.
His devil fruit had been stolen by a maniacal traitor.
His territories were being looted island by island.
And his precious sons could do nothing but watch the collapse of his legacy.

They had spent the last thirty years building up Pops to be the titan that he was and it had taken less than a year for it to all be torn down.

As the flame on his forehead starts to flicker out, Izou briefly withdraws from Marco, taking the blonde doctor into his arms. Marco leaned into his embrace, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing.

"It's not just about Pops' territory being cut up, it's about Teach being the one to do it." Izou says through his tears and balled fists.

"Teach was one of us," Marco points out bitterly. "He did everything with us and now he's the one tearing apart Pops' territory from the inside…and we failed to stop him."

Izou doesn't respond immediately. He shifts again so he's laying on the couch with Marco still falling apart in his arms. Marco only continues to sob. His tears stain the front of Izou's torn and dirty yukata but the sharpshooter can't bring himself to care, especially when one of his own was so desperately in need of comfort.

But Izou found himself unable to offer anything but tears of solidarity.

The candles start to burn out as Izou feels his eyes growing heavy. His grip loosens on Marco as exhaustion finally starts catching up to him. Marco had grown quiet as well, the only movement from him being the slow rise and fall of his chest. Izou glances over at Vista, who had slipped into a deep slumber earlier. Marco's healing flames had done their work and there were no signs of new bleeding and his breathing was quiet but even.

Satisfied with the state of his longtime companions, Izou allows his heavy limbs to relax and drifts off.

~~~

The first sun beams of the day had never looked brighter. Izou watched them pour in through a window, chasing away the darkness of the night and illuminating Vista and Marco. Vista continued to sleep but Marco began to stir, probably out of habit of waking with the sun and tending to Pops' morning medication regime for years.

Marco lingers in Izou's arms for a few minutes before sitting up and adjusting his glasses, knocked askew in his sleep. Izou chuckles as he hears several distinct cracks from the blonde man as he stretches.

"I'm sure your bones don't sound much better, yoi." Marco teases.

Izou smiles, mostly to himself. Traces of the Marco he had come to rely on were already coming back. Macro carefully maneuvers himself off the couch and stares out the window for a few long moments. In those moments, Izou rises from the couch as well and joins him. Smoke was rising through the tops of several chimneys and the sound of chickens and cows drifted through the lush green hills. Overseeing it all was the sun climbing over the horizon and into a brightening sky.

"We can protect this place." Marco says quietly.

Izou hums in response.

"This was where Pops was born," Marco recalls. "If we can at least protect Sphinx, at least some part of his legacy will be safe. He didn't have the happiest childhood here but it was were he started, and that can be saved."

Izou suddenly recalls a haiku from his time with Oden.

Tides rise and they fall
But they cannot move the rock
Settled on the shore

The rise and fall of the tides were the changing of the guard with this up and coming generation of pirates. But the rock they couldn't move was the memory and legacy Pops had carved out for himself during his legendary reign as an emperor.

Maybe Marco was on to something…