The door shut quietly behind Marco. The shadows casted long shadows all over his body as he calmly walked up to the other—much larger—man. He looked tired, almost dragging his feet, but managed to stand straight and look as dignified as he could muster. "We didn't find anyone else on the island, Oyaji."
"Oh? So that brat was alone?" Whitebeard expected as much, but it still bothered him. A child should not live alone in somewhere as dangerous as the New World. Everyone that was considered his 'son' knew this and respected it. That's why they helped as many as they could. This was a special case, however, since there were no reported villages on the island and no one to take care of the boy. There was really only one option.
"Possibly. What do you plan on doing?" Marco sounded almost amused, though the tiredness in his voice was evident. His facade was slowly slipping from his face as he talked to one of the few people in his life that he actually trusted.
A booming laugh echoed throughout the walls. "I think you know, Marco."
Marco simply rolled his eyes fondly. There were still doubts lingering in the air that he didn't really have the heart to point out, but he did want to make sure that their father was completely serious. They didn't want to end up with a brat that didn't like where he was. It would be torture for all of them. "Are you sure? He is just a child after all. He might not even want this."
"Nonsense." Whitebeard's voice sounded much older and much wiser. Even in the poorly lit room, you could see the small twinkle in his eyes. "What child doesn't want a father?"
"Ace didn't." There wasn't a shred of hesitation in Marco's reply.
Another booming laugh shook the whole room. "Is that so? But I'm not changing my decision."
With a resigned sigh, the blonde turned around and allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "Alright, Oyaji."
The child was terrified; it wasn't hard to tell. Ace had always been bad with kids, especially kids who looked torn between attacking or running away, neither of which Ace wanted to deal with.
As soon as the boy woke up, Ace knew there was going to be trouble. Now here he was, alone in the room trying to get the child to calm down. The doctor had just laughed and told him good luck and Marco and Thatch were doing other things—Thatch probably pranking someone, Marco was scouring the island for any villages or towns. Plus, Ace didn't trust anyone else with the kid—the rest of the crew wouldn't know how to deal with this kind of problem (not that Ace knew much either). This was a problem that really couldn't be fixed by swords, guns or any other sort of weapon (unless you wanted to purposely hurt the kid, which no one did) like the Whitebeard Pirates were accustomed to.
To sum it up, Ace had no clue what he was doing.
Could you blame him though? It's not everyday that you find a kid on an island, hurt and alone, and bring him back to the ship only to be dumped into Ace's 'loving' care. Dammit! What was he supposed to do? He was raised by mountain bandits. They don't just go around teaching brats that they hate how to take care of random toddlers that they find on islands. Plus, fire wasn't that nice of an element unless you want to get burned. Ace had yet to hurt his family with his abilities and he certainly didn't want to start now.
"Hey," Ace tried for his 'nicest' voice. The least he could do was try and talk to the kid, right? Maybe he could set up a treaty of peace; he doesn't cry and Ace doesn't burn his mouth together (as if he'd do that, he'd not that cruel, but the thought did come to his mind once or twice). "Calm down. It's okay. We aren't going to hurt you."
The child only backed up further on the bed, pushing his back against the wall. Ace didn't know if the boy registered what he said, or even if he understood what he said.
It honestly wouldn't surprise him if the child didn't know how to speak. He was so damn small. How old was he, two? Maybe four, Ace wasn't really good with ages. Or children. Or anything other than battle and hunting.
The fire-user had to hold back a sigh. He knew that this was going to be difficult the moment the child woke up. Hell, he was having nightmares about what he was possibly going to tell this kid's parents (if they found any). Maybe something along the lines of, "Hey I almost watched your child get eaten by a giant tiger and we brought him to the world's most powerful man to help him and stuff. Anyways, here you go, have him back now."
Then a frown creased his face. Did this child even have parents? It wouldn't be the first time that Ace had met a homeless child and he never really thought it would be the last, but he did have to wonder where the child came from. Abandoned or not, who would just leave a four-year old boy to roam a dangerous island like that? The boy was lucky that he wasn't eaten in the first two or three minutes.
Ace even had trouble walking through the man-eating plants and animals that constantly watched you. How would a normal person—no, a child— feel? Like shit, probably. He wondered how many times the child was attacked by the island and how much damage did it really do? He wasn't worried about the physical aspect as much. No, Ace was much more worried about the mental damage that an experience like that could cause.
Then he thought about his own 'grandpa', Garp. What had that crazy old shit done to him when he was a kid? Ace couldn't even count the number of times he was hit on the head, thrown off a cliff or thrown into the ocean when he couldn't swim. Maybe this kid's mom or dad was like that as well. Hell, maybe they were even worse than that. If they were, Ace's heart went out to the boy.
. . . Wait. He was assuming too much.
He needed to focus; he still had a terrified four-year-old to look after, right? After all, the moment he showed signs of waking, the doctor dragged him into the infirmary and demanded that he watch over the child and calm him down if needed. Didn't she know that fire was generally not used to clam people down? The best he could do was knock him out again but he didn't really think that was a great idea considering the minimal trust level the boy had for them now. How would he react if Ace attacked him? The brat wouldn't take it well; Ace could guarantee that.
Ace had wanted to complain, oh yes, he had wanted to complain a lot but that woman was about as stubborn as a mule (maybe more). Once look from her was enough to send a zebra towards a lion and beg to be eaten (though most of Oyaji's doctors and female nurses were like this). Honestly, how did Oyaji get all the ladies? And the feisty ones at that. He was like a woman beacon, being old didn't seem to hinder him that much. The fire-user shuddered to think of Oyaji as a young and handsome man. It just didn't fit.
Now here he was, stuck with babysitting the very kid that he was losing sleep over. This time, the sigh did escape his mouth and he reached out to stroke the boy's hair, not really thinking things through. Hadn't he paid attention to the warning signs? He should have listened to his gut that screamed 'don't do it' because, damn, he made contact all right, but it wasn't the positive outcome that he had thought would happen in his head.
The brat had bit him and—goddamnit—it hurt.
"Let me go!" Ace yelped, more in surprise than actual pain, and tried to pry the boy off him, but the boy had a grip of steel. The chocolate brown eyes glared at him, though the fear was still apparent. Ace could tell by the way this kid moved that everything that he's doing was purely on the instinct and survival skill that he'd no doubt picked up on the island.
"Come on, you brat," Ace growled, annoyed. He could've just turned into fire, but there was a large chance that he'd burn the kid's mouth if he did and the last thing he wanted was to deal with hurting one of the doctor's patients. He'd end up in the emergency room.
He shuddered just imagining what they'd do to him.
"Please let go?" He tried the gentler and calming approach. Letting his glare soften, he looked at the boy with big puppy dog eyes that could even get Marco to do a backflip. Okay—that was a joke; there was no way in hell that Marco would do a backflip for him.
After a few more minutes of gentle persuasion, Ace gave up. He sat back in his chair, and let out a large, annoyed sigh. This really wasn't his day was it?
"You're aren't letting go, are you?" Ace accused the youth. He wanted his hand back! Besides, it was already starting to bleed and sting to a point that made it uncomfortable to move.
The boy shook his head in defiance, letting some of the fear fade from his eyes. The fire-user supposed it as because he didn't try and hurt the brat and instead choose other ways of getting through to him. Ace was glad that he got a response at the very least. He wasn't sure if the boy was able to understand what he was trying to say to him. This could've been so much worse if he couldn't speak. Ace shuddered to think about what they'd do. He didn't know how well the boy could understand them, but at least they got somewhere right? They didn't have much, but it was a start.
Ace always hated starts.
Ace put his elbow on his knee, leaning up closer to the boy before resting his head on his free hand. "Can you please let go? I use this hand a lot." A once again tried to wiggle his hand free but the child's mouth just clamped down even harder. Ace glared at the boy and the boy just glared right back, not backing down once.
Ace was surprised to say the least—very few people could stand up to his glare but here he was, facing down a four-year-old boy and losing. Losing was not a vocab word in Ace's book (not that he knew many vocab words to begin with) especially to little kids with big attitudes.
"Why couldn't you have bitten Marco's hand?" Ace continued to complain, unaware of the loud footsteps outside of the room. The stinging pain had dulled to an annoying throb for now and for some reason every time Ace felt his heart beat, his left ear twitched. Another annoyance to add to his long list. "I bet his would taste better. Like chicken. You know that he's a firebird, right? A phoenix. It's basically a turkey with blue fire. He also has this weird hair that looks like a pineapple. You like pineapples, right? Okay. We have a plan. Go bite Marco."
The child didn't even twitch, just sitting in the same spot, not moving. Ace was vaguely aware that he was ranting about things that really didn't make sense and in the back of his mind he wondered if the boy had rabies.
"Let go alreadyyyyyy." The fire-user's voice was starting to come out as an annoyed wine. It's not like he cared; no one else was in the room other than the four-year-old who apparently wants to eat him. Cannibalism. Who would've thought? If he knew that the inhabitants of this monstrous island were cannibals then they would've avoided this whole mess all together.
"Can't even take care of a kid, yoi?"
"Marco!" Ace cried out happily, turning around as fast as he could. Maybe his friend could help him pry this brat off of him, right? Or even better, the brat will lose interest in him and go try and eat Marco instead! "Help me." But for now he'd settle with any help he could get.
Marco gave him and unimpressed yet disapproving look that only Marco could do. The Phoenix walked up to the boy and sat on the bed nest to him. The child gave him a wary glance, but didn't let go of Ace's hand. Marco looked like he was suppressing a smirk and ruffled the boy's hair like Ace had tried to do before.
The only difference was Marco didn't get bit, much to Ace's disappointment.
"Stubborn little thing, aren't you?" Marco allowed a rare, soft smile to appear on his lips. A calming gesture. Ace frowned a little. Why was Marco so good at stuff like this? Whenever Ace tried to be nice to kids, he either got rocks thrown at his head or he gets bit. Children hated him and he didn't necessarily like children.
"Come on now," Marco's hands went under the child's stomach to scoop him up, bringing Ace's hand with him. Ace frowned and once again shook his hand to hopefully get the boy to let go. It didn't work. "Let go of Ace. He probably doesn't taste great, doesn't he, yoi?"
"Oi, oi. Marco. Rude." Ace shot his friend a warning look that clearly said 'don't test me right now I'm being bitten by a four-year-old and I'm not happy'. At first he'd been worried for the shitty brat and this is what he gets? No, Ace wasn't very happy. He was going to make this clear to everyone that's around him.
But the words did have the affect that Ace had hope for initially; the boy gave a wide eyed look at Marco—almost as if he expected to be attacked—and let go of Ace's hand. Instantly Ace was rubbing his new wound, glaring at pretty much everything that moved and made noises. His 'savior' was no exception.
He stood up from his chair with a grunt and went to the first aid kit. Ace took out the alcohol and started to disinfect his hand, ignoring the annoying sting, then wrapped a white bandage around it. He glanced back at the kid who was quietly sitting in Marco's lap looking uncomfortable; tension ran though the air and Ace thought the black haired brat was about to run away.
Ace gave the boy a criticizing look as he shut the cabinet and walked back to the bed in order to the kneel straight in front of the small child. His grey eyes bore into the wide brown ones of the child and said in the most serious yet gentle voice he could muster up, "That wasn't very nice, you know."
The boy gave him an innocent look like he didn't know what Ace was taking about. Ace snorted and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "Smartass."
Marco rolled his eyes, the lazy expression coming back to his face. "Ace quit harassing the kid. I bet he's had enough shit for a while."
"But he bit me," Ace's lips formed into a pout, his eyes shinning with something akin to hurt. Why was it his fault? Why was the Phoenix scolding him? The kid started it! It's not like he wanted to be bit by a four-year-old that might or might not have rabies.
"Ace."
Whitebeard hummed as he looked upon the three figures in front of him. Two of them were his sons that had always made him so proud and the other was the child that Whitebeard was not-so-secretly wishing for him to join his family. It didn't matter if he knew the boy or not; everyone deserved a family.
That was his wish; his dream. To have a family. Some might laugh and call him stupid and idiotic, but they knew nothing. They'd just snort at the idea and say something like, 'why would the strongest man in the world want that? How pathetic!'
Whitebeard would laugh in their faces and tell them that they were a hundred years too young to understand (because they were; it wasn't hard to see it in their eyes.) He'd encountered thousands of men and none of them had understood the need for family. They ones that did were his sons.
But this child, a mere toddler, knew more about it then all of those idiots combined.
He knew it hurt to be alone. He wanted a family. Whitebeard could see it in the child's eyes. He was alone and it was hurting him. Because for some reason, this child knew that being alone was worse than being hurt.
They said that they would heal his outside wounds, so why not heal his heart as well?
The child of his thoughts was currently in Marco's arms, looking up at the giant man with awe and a little bit of fear but there was that spark of curiosity that caught Whitebeard's attention. The giant could understand the fear; he'd scared even some of his bravest sons, but the fact that he was openly curious was special. Was unique. How strange.
His eyes reminded Whitebeard of when he met Ace. Ace wasn't scared either. Though, he wasn't curious either. Ace had one mindset at the time; kill. He'd probably been raised like that, though Whitebeard didn't know. Didn't care. It was his sons past and he'd already shared more than enough information.
The giant's eyes wandered to his black-haired son, analyzing him. Whitebeard knew his sons well. He knew their moods, how they reacted. The man knew that something was wrong the moment the fire-user had walked in, though it was already painfully obvious. He could practically feel the boy's emotions radiate in waves. Annoyance, anger, and overall he was just in a very pissy mood.
Whitebeard noted the newly wrapped bandage on his son's hand and gave him a questioning look, though on the inside, he already knew where it came from. Ace's eyes flicked towards the boy in Marco's arms then back again with narrowed eyes, giving Whitebeard all the information that he needed.
He couldn't help the smirk that formed on his face. The boy was already causing trouble, huh? And to think that they didn't even know his name.
"Brat," Whitebeard addressed the kid like he did everyone else, he might've been young, but he wasn't an exemption. With a lazy eye roll, Marco set the boy on the ground giving him a gentle push forward. The boy stumbled before he caught himself, staring up at the giant man with an unblinking owlish gaze. "What's your name?"
The kid didn't answer for several seconds. Whitebeard worried that the rumors were true; the boy didn't even know how to speak. Maybe he didn't even understand them?
"Luffy," The boy muttered after a while, awkwardly shifting his feet and breaking eye contact with Whitebeard to stare at the ground. Whitebeard let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in. So he could speak.
Whitebeard gave the child a small smile, bending over and gesturing for him to come closer. Luffy lifted his head from the ground, hesitating for only a moment before he padded over to Whitebeard's leg and looked up at the man that towered over him.
Using only one huge arm, Whitebeard scooped up the tiny figure and place him on his leg. The boy let out a yelp of surprise, but he was soon quiet again.
"Luffy?" Whitebeard hummed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. He could feel the boy's eyes on him and he cracked open his own. Luffy tilted his head to the side and nodded in confirmation. With a smile, Whitebeard grinned and continued. "Well then, Luffy, where are your parents?" He knew the answer of course; it was made painfully obvious by the boy's beaten form.
He was skinny, frightfully so, as if he hadn't eaten in a long time. Small scars covered his entire body and though they were small, they were still slightly worrisome. His black hair was covered in dirt, though it wasn't matted like Whitebeard expected it to be. Ace had even said that the boy had something wrapped around a rather fresh injury as if it were a homemade bandage.
Little Luffy looked confused, even going as far as tilting his head to the side. Parents? The phrase confused him. He knew what the word meant, though he didn't know what exactly parents were. He didn't have any parents. Or anyone for that matter. He had been alone from before he could remember. Though he did have flashes. Sometimes of the water, a storm, and even a figure. A beautiful figure. Someone with blonde hair that seemed to radiate warmth. Luffy wanted that warmth. He shook his head at the giant man and stilled.
Thought so. "Do you have any family looking after you?"
"No," The kid looked miserable like he was remembering a painful memory. His eyes were clouded and he looked down at his hands, twisting them. "Alone."
Whitebeard noticed that Ace and Marco had frowns on their faces as well. "Is that so? So no one is looking after you?"
"No," came the same reply. "Alone."
Whitebeard hummed, thinking his decision over. If a child were to join them . . . How would the other commanders and crewmates react? Whitebeard wouldn't consider the boy weak, but there was no way that a four-year old could hold his own against the people that challenged him everyday. They'd have to train him. Protect him.
But then again, that was what family was for.
The giant smiled, ruffling Luffy's raven locks. The boy looked up, his eyes rather wide. "How would you like to join us? We could be your family."
Marco look impassive (though he already knew about this, so it wouldn't really surprise him) but Ace's eyes widened impossibly wide. "But Oyaji—!"
"Hush, brat." Whitebeard commanded, not in the mood for interruptions. He continued to look into Luffy's eyes, nothing else. Luffy had to say yes. He had to choose on his own. They couldn't be a family if the boy didn't want one. "It's the boy's decision."
"Family?" The four-year-old almost sounded wishful as he gripped Whitebeard's pants tightly. The boy was tense; guarded. "I don't have a family."
"You could," Whitebeard told him gently. There was no way they were just going to leave the boy on this island to fend for himself like he had to before but couldn't take in a child who didn't want to be taken away. If they left him on the island, Whitebeard doubted he'd live to six years old—If Marco, Ace and Thatch hadn't found him then there was a big chance that even the best doctors in the world wouldn't be able to save him. "We could be your family."
"I want a family," Luffy said in a childish voice, looking up with big brown eyes. Whitebeard couldn't help but smile and ruffled the boy's hair with his thumb. Looking into eyes so young—so innocent sent a warm feeling throughout his whole body. "You be my family?"
The smile that felt like it would never leave Whitebeard's face appeared. He stood up, carrying the boy with him to the upper deck. "Of course, Luffy. We'll be your family. Always."
yoooo updated august 17 2017
