It was happening again.
Well, not really.
Every once in a while, the Whitebeard pirates encountered some youngsters who thought they were Billy Badass and could actually take on their legendary captain. They were usually dispatched without a second thought but this time, it was different. For one, their ship was so big it had a forest on deck. Then the crew was mostly comprised of women. Pretty women. And their captain, beautiful enough to give Shirahoshi a run for her money, was standing before Whitebeard (and towering over him by at least a head), lost in a very lengthy explanation about the virtues of volcanic soil and pepper corns.
This woman didn't want a fight, she wanted to buy some uninhabited islands in their territory to plant things on them. Well, Marco thought as he surveyed the forest, given the amount of plants everywhere, the request seemed legit enough.
"… I love you." His ears caught the awe-struck declaration and resisted the urge to face-palm. Thatch had joined the conversation.
"Uhm. Thanks. Very flattering, I'm sure. Anyway," she went on, turning back towards the captain in a flurry of petals and long green skirts, "you can't say no! I mean, it's a wonderful opportunity – I get perfect pepper corns, and the people on the nearby islands get jobs with good pay and the healthcare benefits Marine officials can only dream of, and we have this re-integration program for homeless children, everybody wins! Please?" she clasped her hands in front of her heaving chest and looked at Whitebeard with impossibly large, shiny eyes.
"I say throw in a few bags of that pepper and your personal Den-Den Mushi and we've got a deal!"
"Yes! Wait, what?" The woman turned to look down her nose at Thatch, who grinned shamelessly. Until Whitebeard's eyes caught something and he froze. Like a man in a trance, he pushed his son and the tall woman aside and walked slowly towards another woman who had just stepped off the forest-ship. This one was also beautiful, but in a more understated way. She looked to be in her forties, a little shorter than Whitebeard, with light brown hair and green eyes. She appeared to be in a similar state of shock.
"My God," he said quietly. "Emily?"
"Edward?"
And Marco felt his face fall. He must be quite a sight, with his mouth gaping open and his eye twitching, a small part of him noted while filing its talons. But that wasn't the point.
"Pops," he said weakly. "Who is that?"
"Ah, yes. Marco, everyone, this is Emily Fairbrook. We were sweet on each other we were younger, back in… are you all right?"
"Why don't you two go somewhere private? I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on," the captain interjected with a broad smile and stars in her eyes, while a long vine sneaked out of her belt and gently nudged Marco out of sight, behind a fold of glittering green fabric. "I'm sure cook-san will be more than happy to fix you something nice, won't he?" she looked pointedly at Thatch, who shook himself. "Yes. What will it be, sir, madam?"
"Tea. Goa Grey with mint," Whitebeard said decisively.
"I can't believe you remember," Emily said with a smile.
And with that they left for the forest ship, whose entire crew in turn poured onto the Moby Dick (there weren't that many of them, actually). Ace sent his Hotarubi to shimmer among the trees, and Thatch herded every cook available to prepare cakes and other things to go with the tea, and the Nurses strapped Marco to a infirmary bed and gave him a sedative.
A few days ago my Grandma, aged 76, received a phone call from an ex-boyfriend from about 60 years ago. I feel your flabbergastedness, Marco.
