Izou's Reaction to Marco's Death

A Sister's Tears

Requested by Mysteryreader6626

I laid away at night, wondering if there was something I could have changed, something that I could have done differently. It's been like that for almost a month, never knowing if there was a split in this timeline that could have changed if only I had acted a certain way when we were at war.

Marco, my brother in all but blood, died at the last second of the war as everyone fled to the sea. His death repeated itself in my mind, burning me, haunting me. It was never supposed to be like this, never was it supposed to go down to the oldest sibling dying for the family.

It reminded me greatly of the draft on my home island (was it an island or something more… what was it? What was that place where I can't remember but called home?) where I watched other families be torn apart because their sons had been sent to war with a neighboring village or island, something of the other, where most families never saw their male counter-parts again. Some newlywed-wives would be forced to watch as their husbands were taken, dragged from their homes in the dead of night. They cried, wept, and sobbed for they knew they would never see their husbands again. They would fall into depression, and eventually kill themselves when news reached them that their spouse died for a cause that no one on the island understood.

Maybe there was a reason why not only I, but my parents had dressed me in girl clothes besides that they had wanted a girl instead of a boy. Maybe they were afraid that I too would be taken from them like my older brother in which I never meet. It mattered not now, I could hardly remember my parents – simply blonde hair spraying over their dead bodies for they had almost drowned me and I had struck back.

I had set out to freedom later, when Whitebeard was still just a veteran but not a threat on the high seas – not for a newbie at least. Not for a little rookie with guns that could barely take on a ship of marines at the time.

It was years later, when I was around the age of twenty and had been on the sea for years, had been alone for about two, when I met the person I would one day call my brother for the rest of my life. He was in town, simply checking out the market and seeing if anything was of use. I didn't recognize him as the famous Phoenix that roamed the seas under the purple flag of Whitebeard.

It was for the second time in my very being I saw those green orbs that flashed to blue within seconds, the second time I felt the safety of a person dearer to me then my own life, the second time within my existence that I saw that face again.

I didn't remember until that moment, didn't remember the pain that was forced on a man that I had come to love more than a brother, didn't remember the shared kisses of a time that had long since died when we were teenagers and weren't being watched by our friends, until I saw his face again. Millions of emotions crashed into my system, so many that I didn't know what to think. I was terrified he wouldn't recognize me, petrified if he did. I had no idea what to do, and then his eyes suddenly focused on mine with the clear message of 'I know you.'

I wondered if he had any regrets of our relationship in our past life.

I knew he didn't though.

The boy that I had known was shy but caring, courageous but not bull-headed, smart but not a know-it-all. The man in front of me was out going but gentle, stubborn but cool headed, cunning and knowledgeable and not afraid to show it. He was everything he should have been the last time we met, but wasn't because of the obligations in his last life.

He was my Harry, a name that now felt foreign on my tong in a new life with new memories.

I had watched my school sweetheart be taken from me, watched as he was used and tricked. I was never able to reach him, he was never able to hear my voice. I wondered if I could have done anything, could have prevented his suffering in any way.

I had moved on though, not forgetting about him but not willing to help him either. I had found a new lover, gotten married and had my own family. I had never seen him again.

And when I found him in this life, I could no longer be who I used to be. I was simply the sister/brother I should have been in our last life.

Neither of us broached the subject, neither of us dared touch the unspoken line that were drawn between us. Our time had long since passed, and Harry – now Marco – had moved on and fell in love with a brunette that had become our youngest brother years later.

And then when the very mentioned brother was freed, he got himself killed.

Goddamn your wish, you selfish bastard.

You left us alone.

Again.

Goddamn you bother of mine, Marco.

So, this took two days to finish. One day to actually to get working on it. So from the time that the request was sent in, it took me about three days to get it done...dang.

Can anyone figure out who Izou is? Or was, would be the better term. At first I wasn't going to go down that route, but then I sort of blanked out and the next thing I know I was writing about a past-Izou. I hope someone gets it, because it wasn't going to be that person at first. It was going to be someone else entirely, but then I thought that the first person wouldn't fit who Izou used to be.

I hope you have liked this chapter. I haven't edited, so if you see any mistakes, please feel free to comment on it - actually, just review. I feel so lonely when I see the review button and only see one. Please! Request things too. I'm actually hoping someone request a certain scene I have in mind, but I'm not going to write it until someone does - its really good too.

I will not be doing word counts for this story, too much of a pain.

I think it was 2-3 pages.

I hope you have had a good Thanksgiving (or if your Turkey, I hope you have had a good week - Turkey, ironically enough, does not celebrate Thanksgiving. I guess they were offended by it... or just didn't want to be eaten. Either one, pick your choice)

Updated: 11/28/15