Marco smiled as he finally located their first destination through his telescope –a telescope which may have belonged to Newgate before Marco commandeered it and retreated to the small crow's nest.

Possession was nine tenths of the law right?

Jumping down from his vantage point, Marco landed lightly on his feet beside his Captain.

"Rum Ridge is straight ahead. If the wind keeps up we should be there within a few hours yoi."

Newgate ignored the telescope that was being offered back to him.

The level of navigation knowledge Marco had acquired over the years had far outstripped any expectations Newgate had first had back in the shop.

The skills weren't perfect, and his ability to read the water's currents was limited, but his understanding of the winds, and his ability to predict weather changes was vast.

Reading the currents was something that Newgate was relatively proficient at, and he had used a large portion of their short journey to teach what he knew to Marco.

He didn't need to look ahead for the island.

If Marco said that they would be there in a few hours, chances are they would.

Shrugging his shoulders, Marco tucked the telescope under his arm.

It would be the last time the telescope would be offered to Newgate, it now being the sole property of Marco.

"Hey Oyaji?"

'Oyaji' had been a development over the past few days, one that Newgate couldn't say he minded.

It was definitely better than being called an old man outright.

"Mmm?"

"Pirates aren't very inventive are they? I mean, who names a place 'Rum Ridge'?"

Newgate gazed down at Marco who was evidently waiting for a verbal response.

"Whitebeard Pirates."

Marco straightened his back in confusion, as he processed the given answer.

"Hey!"

Newgate snorted at the indignant response.

It had been almost a continuous stream of debate, during their trip.

Marco was still firmly in favour of the 'Whitebeard Pirates', but as Newgate reminded him, he didn't have a beard, he had a moustache.

Whilst a name had yet to be settled, they had both agreed that the 'White-moustache Pirates' was definitely out of contention.

In truth, Newgate didn't mind the name all that much. It was growing on him, despite the obvious misstatement that the title gave.

It was however, an entertaining way to ruffle the brat's feathers.


"Oyaji, can I go have a look around town?"

Newgate looked up from the knot he was tying to ensure the vessel didn't float away with the outgoing tide, and nodded to the request.

"Just don't get lost."

Marco rolled his eyes and gave a half hearted salute.

Newgate merely shook his head at the brat's actions. His external behaviour may have screamed 'I don't give a rats' but Newgate knew that Marco would secretly relish in the fact that someone actually cared about his whereabouts.

He was right.

As soon as Marco's back was to his Captain, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was a foreign feeling to him.

In the past, the expression had often been 'get lost' followed by some rather creative swear words.

To have anyone care, truly care, about whether he returned or not was a novel experience.

As he wandered the streets Marco's thoughts were quickly consumed by how in a matter of a few short days, he'd been happier then he could ever remember in his lifetime.

Oyaji had spoken of wanting a family, more than just a crew, but a family.

Making a silent promise, Marco swore that his Captain's vision of a family would come true.

His good mood was soured as he walked head first into what felt like a slab of concrete.

Stepping he back he found that his 'slab of concrete' was really a large and solidly built man.

"Oh! Sorry man, I wasn't paying attention."

Side stepping the man, Marco didn't get very far before thick fingers wrapped themselves around his upper arm.

Turning back to the figure, Marco allowed himself to appear relaxed.

"Can I help you yoi?"

"Aren't you a bit young to be hanging round a place like this kid?"

Marco frowned at the patronizing tone.

"I'm a pirate. This is a pirate town. Why the hell do you care about how old I am?"

The grip tightened on his arm. He seriously needed to stop getting himself into these situations.

Why was everyone so hands-y with him? Was a bit of personal space really too much to ask for?

"Crew?"

The man's gaze clearly stated he didn't believe Marco was indeed telling the truth.

"Whitebeard Pirates."

"Never heard of 'em. Captain must be a nobody."

A growl slipped from Marco's lips.

Who did this guy think he was?

He wasn't going to stand by whilst his family was insulted.

Enraged, Marco swung his free arm at the man, his fist clenched tight.

Noticing Marco's intentions, the man's form turned into diamond, effectively blocking the attack and shattering the bones within Marco's hand.

Marco's eyes widened slightly at the scene. He hadn't been prepared to fight a devil fruit user.

Returning the attack, a diamond fist was soon lodged in Marco's side, flinging him through a nearby wall.

Before he had a chance to get to his feet, Marco found the roof of the building caving in on top of him.

The broken segments obscured him from the view of the aggressor.

As the dust cleared, the man grunted, not at all fussed whether Marco was dead or alive, or even whose building he had knocked down.

If the kid couldn't take a punch, then he shouldn't be carrying such a cocky attitude.

Deciding that his business was finished, the man wandered away in search of a tavern.

Marco groaned at the weight that was pressing down on him, the worst of it crushing his chest.

Shifting slightly in what little room he had under the beam, Marco was able to bend his arms back to be able to place both palms next his chest. His right hand throbbed painfully but he knew he had to get out from where he was before he could do anything about it.

Taking in what little air he could between the weight and the pain of his definitely cracked ribs, Marco pushed against the beam.

His movements were slow as he strained to take the load.

With more room to take in air, Marco soon found the strength to push the debris away from himself completely.

Stumbling out of the wreckage, he slumped against a remaining segment from the wall.

That had not been fun.

Gingerly, Marco used his left hand to prod at his damaged right hand.

A hiss of pain escaped before Marco could stop it.

The damage felt to be extensive, but nothing that would last.

Quickly scanning the area for any prying eyes, Marco shifted further into the shadow as a final precaution.

Satisfied that no one was going to see, he allowed his eyes to fall shut as he focused on the blue flames that licked over his body, healing anything that was broken, cracked or cut.

Feeling the trickling of blood running down his face, Marco rubbed it with the back of his hand, sighing as he took note of how much he had bled.

Why did head wounds have to bleed so much?

Things would be so much easier if all of his wounds had been internal.

Pushing to his feet, Marco weaved his way out of the streets, back to the harbour.

As he neared, Marco prayed to any God that felt like listening, for his Captain to not see him before he could destroy the evidence that marked his face.

The Gods were not on his side.

As Marco jumped on board, Newgate was already taking in his blood smeared face, the concern written in his gaze.

"You alright there brat?"

"I'm fine yoi."

Newgate rotated his shoulders, as he sat up in the chair he had been resting in.

Marco could be as 'fine' as he wanted to be, but Newgate was not going to allow him to get away without finding out what had happened to his brat first.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

Newgate sighed. He could already sense that this was going to be harder than a dentist extracting teeth from a terrified patient – without anaesthetic.

"Did you get into a fight?"

"Maybe."

"So?"

It was Marco's turn to sigh as he realised that Newgate, wasn't going to let it go.

"I took a hit and went through a wall. Happy?"

"Do we need to go find a doctor?"

"No."

Marco turned away from his Captain as he muttered angrily under his breath, almost too quietly for Newgate to hear.

"Not unless he can heal my pride."

Whilst the sight of his brat hurt was no laughing matter, Newgate couldn't help but be amused and a little impressed by Marco.

If he had any lingering doubts about Marco being special they had definitely been quashed now.

Even someone his own size, after being put through a wall would have probably had more damage than a simple cut and nothing broken.

Marco meanwhile, slipped below deck.

He didn't want Newgate to examine him or the situation too closely.

Out of sight, out of mind.

At least he hoped that would work.

Whilst Marco wanted to believe in his Captain completely, he didn't feel he was ready to share his devil fruit powers with him just yet.

It was the reason he had been turned away by so many before.

Now it just seemed like second nature to hide his powers.

Captain's needed crews that could swim. The ocean was a dangerous place and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ever find himself in the water.

He was a liability.

Ducking into the small bathroom, Marco examined the blood in the mirror. The stream down his face had already started to dry and was flaking in some areas.

Washing his face until nothing remained, Marco searched around the cabinet until he found a small bandage.

Placing it on his forehead, where the cut should have been Marco sighed.

He couldn't even remember how long it took normal people to heal.

One week? Two weeks? A month?

...

...

Surely not a month...

Marco released another sigh.

He'd just have to play it by ear.


"Oi brat! You're in charge of the boat. I'm heading to the tavern."

A non-committal grunt was the only response that Newgate received, the sound echoing its way out of the men's quarters.

Since returning to the ship, Marco had made himself scarce.

Currently he was seated on his bunk, pouring his energy into examining the maps they had acquired on the previous island.

Plotting their journey was easy enough for him to do. What would be important were the adjustments to allow for the wind and water currents, which could either work for or against them.

The size of their boat meant that they would have to be smart with the provision that were selected. The last leg of their journey had been short, but the next part was likely to take almost twice as long.

They were going to have to find someone who knew more about organising food than he did.

He was a burn water type of guy.

If it wasn't store bought (or stolen in most cases), he didn't eat it.

However it was his job to work out how long it would take before their next opportunity to restock.

"Brat, need you to come meet someone."

Marco almost fell off his bunk at the sound of Newgate's voice.

He hadn't been expecting him back so soon.

Glancing out the porthole, the sun disclosed the fact that he had been absorbed in his maps longer than he thought he had been.

Shifting his stuff to one side, Marco hurried up to the deck and straight into an introduction.

"Jozu, Marco. Marco, Jozu."

"YOU! WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING HERE?!"

The side of Newgate's mouth pulled down at Marco's outburst.

This wasn't good.

Putting two and two together, Newgate knelt down on one knee, to be eye level with Marco.

Jozu shifted his stance subtly as he watched the stare down that was occurring between the pair.

The kid wasn't happy.

Hell, he wouldn't be happy if he was being asked to accept a new crew member who had beaten him earlier in the day either.

Marco met Newgate's gaze without hesitation. There was no way he wanted that guy on their crew. Using the first piece of ammunition that sprang to mind, Marco started to protest against the newest Whitebeard Pirate.

"He's a devil fruit user."

"The Whitebeard Pirates will accept anyone who is a child of the sea."

The conviction in Newgate's voice, left Marco in a state of shock, unable to do anything but bob his head in agreement.

Maybe he had finally found his home.

Breaking out of his thoughts Marco turned back to their newest family member, attitude firmly back in place.

"I only take orders from my Captain."

Whitebeard threw his head back as his laughter rang out.

Cheeky brat.

Marco smiled slightly, before excusing himself.

"I have to finish looking at the maps."

Jozu quirked his eyebrows at the disappearing figure, a clear sign that he stood by his assumption of the kid being a brat.

Newgate smirked as his laughter subsided.

"He's more than he looks."

Clearly still unimpressed Jozu crossed his arms over his chest.

The strength of his Captain, he would not question. There weren't many people that he'd met that had enough brute strength to take him out (a story that he was determined not to share).

The kid however, was a different story.

Newgate understood Jozu's reservations, but he also knew that they were ill-founded.

Leaning back in his seat Newgate closed his eyes, allowing the last rays of sun to pour over his face.

How best to make him understand?

Finding his answer Newgate cracked open a single eye.

"Kid doesn't look like you just put him through a wall does he?"

Jozu's arms fell back to his side as he mentally catalogued Marco's injuries.

When he put a normal person through a wall (not that he made a habit out of it or anything, it just seemed that walls were always conveniently present), they would often come out of it with a half a dozen broken bones and a concussion... providing of course they were still conscious.

However, the kid had been strutting around on deck, with no outward signs of any pain, broken limbs, or a concussion.

In fact, if it weren't for the small bandaid on his forehead, there would have been no evidence of the incident at all.

...Perhaps there was more to the kid after all.

Jozu meet Newgate's gaze and nodded.

"Understood, Sir."

Newgate grunted as his eye slid back shut.

"Don't call me 'Sir', brat."


...And then there were two... Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed/followed/faved 'Strays'! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!