Chapter 7: First Losses (Year 14, Week 35, Day 6)

The Log Pose had brought her to a deserted island, this one actually uninhabited unlike the one she had hidden away on which she had originally thought was empty. She and Marco had said their goodbyes only a couple days ago, after staying for a week together on the isolated Island Mari had come to know as Lono from the natives. It had been sad departing from the people that had made her feel so welcome. Deep in her heart, she knew that she would never be able to find that island again, would never see them again, but she had been able to take pieces of it with her so that she could remember it. Waka, the woman who would invite Mari to her family meals, gifted her something that looked like an intricately carved spearhead lined with shark fangs which currently hung from a string around her neck. It was thoughtful, yes, and beautiful as it was deadly, but the thing she had received from Hopoe, the old woman who bested her in swimming, meant much, much more. Mari ran a reverent hand over the dark red ink that was still healing into her skin, over the flowering-sunlike pattern that the old woman had tapped into her shoulders and upper arms as she sat in the golden sands, watching the waves tickle at her feet.

The new Island was to her liking: tropical, mellow, and quiet save for the waves and wildlife. It was a good way to get back into journeying because she didn't feel quite up to dealing with society at large as she was still in mourning. Marco had invited her to come with him back to the Moby Dick, but she also wasn't prepared for the Whitebeard's particular kind of rambunctious yet. He had nodded, just a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, because even though he loved his family, he knew that they could be overwhelming sometimes. So they had taken off together, flying side by side for just a moment before he swooped in close, kissed her forehead, and took off in the opposite direction, back to his captain and crew.

She brought her knees up and buried her red face in them as she rememebered that brief kiss.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she mumbled to her knees; it was stupid to be embarrassed by such a little thing, when they had already shared kisses much more heated than that before.

Maybe it was because she continued chanting "stupid, stupid, stupid," under her breath trying to scrub away the heat in her cheeks that she did not notice that someone was standing behind her until she head the distinct click! of a gun being cocked very close to her head.

Slowly, she tilted her head towards the looming figure next to her. It was an enormous man with a meat bone sticking out between his wide grin, and behind him were various other people, most with some kind of weapon pointed at her. A boat was beached on the sand further down from her, and a ship was anchored a ways off shore, a black pirate flag waving proudly in the breeze.

'Well, fuck,' Mari thought.

"And what's a Marine doin' on a Yonko's island?" he asked with a grin.

"Uh." said Mari.

Now, Mari was presented with a predicament. She knew that there were Four Emperor's of the Sea, and she knew that Whitebeard was one of them. However, Mari didn't really keep up with news and so she did not know a lot of things, and this included who the other three Yonko were. So, there was a one in four chance that she had come to an island under Pops' protection and in that case, this was one of his allied crews and there was a chance she could explain her position with the Whitebeard crew to them and be safe. However, there was also a 75% chance that she was in deep shit, and that was very not good.

"Ahem, could I ask whose Island this is?" she asked, ever-so-politely while remaining as still as she could to not make any sudden movements.

"This is Red Hair Pirate territory," the large man said, his grin never fading and it was starting to hurt Mari's cheeks just looking at him; even worse though was the plummeting feeling inside her chest.

"Well, y'know, I must have landed here by mistake, that's my bad, I do sincerely apologize, I should probably go, I'll just be out of your hair in a moment," she said, but then something occurred to her as she looked over the group of pirates, "Wait, Red Hair Pirates? That's a pretty fucking stupid name don't you think? None of you have red hair."

That wasn't entirely true, there was like, one person with a long shaggy mane of red-ish hair, but it was more brown than red. But she didn't have time to dwell on this because as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that it wasn't smart to insult people who were pointing a lot of weapons at her and she had probably just signed her own death warrant. And probably dug her own grave, and arranged the funeral, and given the sermon, and buried herself while she was at it.

However, rather than the sound of several guns firing off, she heard the sound of laughter.

Someone stepped out from the crowd, someone who actually had red hair and three scars running across his face; the people around him lowered their weapons as he passed, and it really didn't take a genius to figure out that this was the captain of the Red Hair Pirates.

"That is true, but unfortunately all the other names we came up with weren't that good either," he laughed.

"I still like 'the Kick Ass Eat Ass Pirates'," someone called from behind the captain and chuckles broke out amongst them, and the red-haired man laughed again. Mari felt a bit like she might be sick, a little bit confused as to why she was alive and grateful for that, but also mostly sick.

"That was a strong contender," he said, then peered down at Mari, getting a better look at her.

Confusion passed over his face, before a look of comical recognition took over.

"Mari?!"

She blinked up at him.

"Uh," she said, "Do we know each other?"

"You don't recognize me?" he asked, then chuckled briefly and scratched at his stubbly chin, "Well, it's been a while. Twenty years, maybe? I did also still have my hat and my arm when we met."

Mari tried desperately to jog her memory for this strange man standing before her, which now that he mentioned, she noticed that he was indeed missing an arm. But, so what about a hat? There were so many hats in the world, it wasn't like this was a unique thing to single someone out with. Although, now that she looked more closely at him...the wavy red hair, his face although much less baby-looking and lined with scars now did seem familiar…

And then it clicked.

"Ah!" she pointed at him, "Shitty Mugiwara-Brat?!"

Mari had never seen a party set up so quickly. The empty beach had in the blink of an eye been set up with various canopies and blankets, barrels of alcohol had been rolled out along with some portable grills, and in less time than she would have thought possible, a party was in full swing, right there on the sand.

It was a blur of drinking, dancing, and laughing, and just generally a lot of noise, but Mari let it wash around her from where she sat a little off to the side with Shanks, catching up, for she and the Yonko had indeed met before, a long, long time ago, when they were both young apprentices.

"Boy, I was sure surprised when I saw you in that Marine cap," he laughed, nearly spilling his glass of beer as he made enthusiastic gestures, "You would've been the last person I would suspect to join the Marines."

"Yeah, well, it's been a never-ending series of mistakes that landed me here, so I've just kinda stuck with it," she grumbled into her own beer before taking a swig, "But what the flipping hell about you? A Yonko? When did that happen?"

He shrugged amiably and held his arm out as if to say 'Who the fuck knows?' and Mari empathized with that.

"I dunno, really, it just happened along the way. You know, after Captain passed, I decided to make my own path and I guess I pissed off enough people to get me the title," he said with a cheeky grin.

"You can do that without becoming one of the most wanted people in the world, you know," she snipped, "Look how I turned out."

"Yeah, just as short as I remember you. Have you grown at all?"

She kicked him sharply in the shin and he burst out laughing uproariously. It was amazing—it was almost like twenty years hadn't passed at all since he and his Captain's crew had rolled into Water 7, looking for a ship to be made by the finest craftsman in the world. Franky hadn't been part of Tom's Workers back then, but Mari and Iceburg had been, and they had been the ones to help Tom build Gold Roger's ship that would sail Grand Line. Shanks had just been a cabin boy then, and although she was two years older than him at thirteen, he was taller (as were most people, something she despised to admit), which was something he poked fun at her for. Frequently. It often earned him kicks to his shins, or if she was feeling particularly vindictive, whatever tool was in her hand thrown at his head.

It was almost exactly the same now.

But of course that wasn't true.

They had both grown and travelled, and seen wonderous things, and meet people of all kinds, and lost things important to them, and gained memories good and bad, and had marks to prove their past. Something sharp flared up from somewhere inside her chest, somewhere right behind her ribs, at the familiarity of this scene, but also the knowledge in that everything had changed, and the acute awareness that it was missing certain things: things like the laughter of two men that would guffaw over their apprentices' antics, each encouraging their own to come out the winner in their little spats, all done in the friendly spirit of comradery though.

Shanks must've noticed that she had quieted down as his chuckles faded and he shared a look with her. There was unspoken understanding in that look.

"I heard about Tom," he said gently. It wasn't a pitying tone, which Mari was grateful for. He knew what it was like, to have a cherished mentor die.

She nodded shortly, and when she didn't say anything, he raised his glass, silently nodding for a toast of some sort.

"He got to see his dream completed," Mari said, a clinked her glass against his before downing the rest of it, "And he did it with a don."

"He was a good man." He chugged his as well and set down his glass with a satisfied puff before he turned to her with a smile back on his face, "Right! Did you know that this Island has some coral reefs that glow in the dark at night? Fancy seeing them?"

(Year 14, Week 36, Day 1)

The sea was calm for once, so calm it looked like a sheet of glass as she sailed above it. There were many shallows, reefs, and sandbanks around here, and the white sand made the water such vibrant blues, so colorful that it almost looked unreal, so bright it almost looked like flames of blue that she knew so well by now. It reminded her of geodes she had seen upon her travels, all of the different shades layered and folded into each other. She landed the Tweety on a strip of sand barely rising out of the water and took a moment to stare around at the horizon that wrapped her on all sides, a darker blue line all that was separating the crystal ocean from the flat line of the sky.

When she thought that she might just be swallowed by all the blue, the moment was broken by her den-den mushi ringing. She shook herself out of the reverie and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey, how are you?"

She must have pulled a face that the den-den mushi on the other side of the line was reflecting that showed how much disgust she was feeling, because the person on the other side laughed.

"That is gross, do not ever say that to me again. Ever," she said flatly, while Marco continued to laugh.

"Not a fan of pet names? And here I thought we were becoming closer," he sighed dramatically, "I was just calling to let you know I made it back to Pops safely. How are your travels?"

She reflected for a moment that he didn't ask how she was, knowing the answer to that already. Something kicked in her rib cage. She ignored it.

"Fair. I met an old…acquaintance I guess, but I'm on to the next island. Just taking a break right now to for the scenery. I didn't know the ocean could be so…blue."

She heard some clatter in the background and a snail picked up a voice that was more distant.

"Marco, stop using the white den-den mushi to call your girlfriend, we need to make actually important calls," she could hear Thatch's voice yell.

"Piss off, yoi. I'll be done in a second," Marco's voice returned closer, "Well, that's all, looks like I've got to go. Take care, girlie."

"You too," she said, and then after a pause, "Marco?"

"Yes?"

"…Thank you."

She could hear a small chuckle.

"Anytime, yoi."

They hung up and Mari took one last pause to look around her before she got back into her Aero Ship.

She continued on.

(Year 14, Week 36, Day 7)

She arrived back at her home late at night and had to pep-talk herself for a good half hour before she found enough courage to slip inside. She almost ran back out when she saw the light was on in the kitchen, but steeled her nerves and went further in.

There was Iceburg, sitting at the table which was strewn with papers, almost falling asleep over them. He had dark bags under his eyes and he looked paler than usual.

She knocked softly on the door frame and he jerked to alertness.

"Mari!" he jumped to his feet and rushed to pull her into a hug that lifted her from the ground, and she felt guilt sweep through her for leaving.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I shouldn't have run away."

He shook his head.

"We're all grieving. We just have different ways of dealing with it. Kokoro was a bit mad at you at first, but she understands. I do too."

Well, now she felt twice as guilty.

"What's all this?" she asked, pointing at the papers to focus on something else.

"I'm going to unite Water 7," Iceburg declared quietly, but his resolution shone through his words, "We're already seeing enormous growth thanks to the Sea Train, and I think this city will soon flourish. If I become important to this city which is so valued by people throughout Grand Line, by the Marines, by the World Government itself, it may give me some protection against the government in case they try to off me."

"Icey, you don't think they'd come for you, do you? Tom, he-" she cut off abruptly, sharply inhaling through her nose to collect herself before she carried on, voice a little tighter than before, "He was able to get you pardoned, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but they have proven that they're willing to resort to dirty tricks to get their hands on this," he pulled out a stack of papers that she had only seen a handful of times, but had never dared to actually look through. The weight of them was not lost on her.

She took a deep breath,

"Well, if you're going to be a respectable person, you need a change of clothes," she gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand, "No one's gonna take you seriously in that dingy old undershirt, Ice. Maybe you should get a suit or something."

"A suit?" he said skeptically, "But that's so...formal. Nma, I guess I'll have to. But I want something with bright colors so people know that I am a cool and fashionable man but still approachable and animal-loving."

She snorted.

"How do clothes communicate that much?"

"You'd be surprised."

They still had not released each other's hands. He pulled her into a hug again and their arms wrapped around each other in a way that was familiar and different at the same time and comforting and she hadn't realized she had missed.

"When did you get taller than me, punk? Huh? Who allowed that?" she asked softly.

"Nma, Mari, I've been taller than you since I was fifteen and I hadn't even gotten my growthspurt."

"Shut your fucking mouth," she smacked his chest and he finally laughed.

"Mini Currie."

"Ahoburg."

(Year 9, Week 12, Day 4)

"I win."

He looked surprised, and not quite sure how to feel about it. A grin slowly spread on his face, as it sunk in. Mari stared at him, not really sure what was going on, other than that she was flat on her back, wind knocked out of her, and there was probably going to be a sizable bump on her head in the next hour. And also the piña colada she had definitely paid too much for was now wasted on the ground.

"What?" she managed to choke out.

"I won!" he said, and let out a victorious whoop, "I did it! I finally won!"

They had run into each other on the Four Seasons Island which was actually four separate islands clustered together, each with their own perpetual season. It was a famous tourist trap because it had all seasonal activities available year round: skiing and hot springs, sunny tropical beaches that were ideal for piña coladas and volleyball, cherry blossom picnics, jumping into piles of dried leaves, you name it. It was also known for its constantly changing housing situation since the natives of the Island would trade places when they wanted to experience different weather.

They had been hopping Islands for nine years now and no matter where they went, they always seemed to run into each other one way or another, and Marco had never been able to get even with her. He had been keeping score of this game of theirs in his head and according to him, he had suffered several humiliating losses, including the time she had trapped him in Sea Stone cuffs, and more recently, when she had escaped him by causing him to get caught by an avalanche on the Four Season Winter Island just yesterday.

Mari, who had never seen their encounters as a game and so was unaware that there was a game or a tally, had caused the avalanche completely by accident in order to avoid being killed by a crazed pirate who she could just not seem to shake. But that was how most of her life was at this point so she just rolled with it.

Regardless, Marco had sworn that the next time he saw that head of purple hair, he was going to send her flying. He might've been a little salty about the avalanche. And he might've still been pretty salty about the Sea Stone cuffs even though that had happened years ago. Ok, he was still peeved about it (mostly because Thatch would not let him forget it even after nine years and brought it up whenever he wanted to tease Marco— which was often), and so, when he saw the stupid, faded Marine cap on top of the stupid head of purple hair while she was sipping a piña colada and relaxing in a hammock on the Four Seasons Summer Island, he was feeling petty.

But, you know what? He was a pirate, he was allowed to be petty.

So, he kicked her straight out of the hammock and sent her flying into a nearby palm tree trunk where she hit her head.

"Nine goddamn years and I get a hit on you," he said, basking in his victory and not caring if it was all incredibly childish, "My win, your loss."

In a daze, Mari sat up off the ground and blinked at him. It took a couple seconds before she came to the realization: maybe it hadn't started that way, but over the years, Marco had come to see them as competitors or something and that this was like a game to him. She suddenly felt pretty stupid for fearing for her life every time they bumped into each other because now it seemed like there had never been any real danger, but even more than that, she thought it was so funny that of all the people in Grand Line, out of all the strong pirates and Marines he could've chosen to go after and become rivals with, he had chosen her. A small woman who had never showed the slightest interest in fighting him and more often than not ran away from him when they met. And if the worst he did was kick her out of a hammock and ruin her overpriced fruity drink in retaliation for what was apparently nine years of holding a grudge, she realized it wasn't really a rivalry he was looking for.

She started laughing.

Real, honest, belly-aching laughter that she hadn't experienced for a while.

He stared down at her with a raised eyebrow, regaining his cool.

"What, yoi? What are you laughing at?"

It was a while before she could calm enough to speak, even though a few giggles escaped every so often as she looked up at him and for the first time, didn't see him as a threat that was likely about to kill her.

"You know, if you wanted to be friends, you could've just asked."

It was his turn to laugh, although it was shorter and more surprised than hers.

"Did you hit your head too hard? You want to be friends with a pirate? You want me to be friends with a Marine?"

"Eh, I've never been super into labels," she shrugged from her spot on the ground, "Anyway, I'm not gonna fight you. All I want right now is a ridiculously expensive tropical drink, so you can feel free to join me. Or not, it's up to you. You kinda owe me one though, since you ruined that one."

Mari pointed to the forlorn coconut shell and colorful paper umbrella sitting in the sticky mess soaking into the sand.

Marco thought about it. There couldn't be any harm in it, could there? So, he shrugged and offered her a hand to help her up. She barely came up to his shoulder at her full height, and he was taken aback as usual at how short she actually was. Which he immediately pointed out.

She responded with an eloquent "Fuck you."

So, they spent the night until the early hours of the morning getting drunk like the two young people they were, and sharing stories from their travels, no labels like 'pirate' or 'Marine' getting in the way, and even though it was her first loss, Marco found that he didn't care about the score as much any longer.

Author's Corner: ...I got nothing, other than, thank you so much to everyone who's commented on this fic. I went through after a year of not working on this fic and read all your lovely comments which helped me get my motivation back for writing. I missed it a lot, thank you all so much. I'll try to work on this story again as well as CotC, but I can't make any promises. Still, I'm glad I was able to share at least some of the story with you all.

Thank you for reading!

-jj