Marco shot up in the crow nest, his hair and clothes damp with sweat. His breathing laboured, he frantically reached up to clutch at his chest, where his mark remained etched permanently into his skin. It had been so long since his last nightmare that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.
Back when he had been alone, away from even the reincarnations of his family, he had nightmares almost every time he slept, to the point he once avoided sleeping for a month. But ever since joining the new Whitebeard Pirates, the nightmares had been absent, until now. With how his crew have started to act so strangely similarly to his family recently, along with them pestering for him to take the position of the First Division Commander despite his repeated refusals, he was not surprised the nightmares came back alongside his memories and the insatiable yearning for his family that came with it.
He drew deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He could still hear the cries and screams, feel the fear and despair, see the ruined battlefield, littered with bodies, among which was a teen with a large hole in his chest and a large man who remained standing even in death.
And this time, it wasn't just them he recognised. Pieces of ice were all that remained of a man almost as large as Whitebeard. The hole-riddled body of broad-chested man with a curly black moustache. Cut up chunks of flesh that had once been a short little prankster running around the deck of the Moby Dick. The Moby Dick itself, which was now just a pile of ashes sinking into the ocean.
Out of everyone, Marco had been the only one to survive thanks to his devil fruit. Left standing all alone in the battlefield, the bodies of his family and unnamed Marines alike strewn around him, the smell of gunpowder and blood still swirling around in the air, Marco felt the last thread of his sanity snap.
"I couldn't save them. I'm sorry. I couldn't save them. I'm sorry. I couldn't save them. I'm sorry." It was the only sound that echoed throughout the battlefield, over and over again, without an end.
Just like his life.
He could stand there for years. It wouldn't matter to him.
He would not need to eat, drink or sleep. It wouldn't kill him.
Immortality came with a heavy price, and the cost was his family's lives. While his family continued to die and be reborn, he was forced to watch, unable to do anything about it. Just watching, as they fell prey to Death over and over again. Just watching, as they were reborn over and over again. Just watching, as they lived through Life once again, with no memories of their past lives and the people they've met.
Just watching.
Over and over again.
Without an end.
Marco felt the coldness creeping up on his skin, and the numbness and tingling coming over him. His heart pounded loudly and painfully in his chest, and the world seemed to spin around him. His breathing picked up again, but each breath was heavy, and he just could not catch his breath. Hyperventilation, the doctor in him supplied.
The phoenix within him did nothing but screech piercingly, and he had burst into blue flames at some point, lighting the room up in an azure blue glow with flickers of gold. He was screaming, yet no sound was produced from his mouth. In the silence of the night, he could hear the muffled sounds of clothes being torn apart and flesh being ripped up.
And then it all stopped, mere seconds later. It was like time had been frozen. The chaos that had reigned within him suddenly fell into an eerie calm. Marco blinked once, and then twice. Slowly, he looked down with a blank stare. His bloodied hands were resting on the mark on his chest, nails already digging into the skin. The haze in his eyes cleared as he blinked again, before letting his hands fall back to his side limply. Instantly, his blue flames swept over the wounds on his body eagerly, leaving no indication of any injury in their wake. He kept his eyes peeled as the flames swept over his chest, and sure enough, as soon as the flames died down, his mark was back again, unmarred.
Releasing a sigh of relief, he surveyed the room. The button up he wore to sleep had been reduced to tatters, exposing his mark. There was a small puddle of blood at his feet, but nothing more than that. The damage was small compared to his previous fits. Was it due to the short duration of it? Was it because his environment was different? Because this time, he was on a replica of the Moby Dick, with the reincarnations of his family all around him, instead of the solitude he had grown so used to over the centuries? Perhaps. He didn't allow himself to dwell on it longer, sneaking out to clean up the mess and get another one of his button ups, silently hoping that he didn't wake any of the others.
"Marco." Marco looked up at Whitebeard as Whitebeard gestured to him from his chair. Curiously, Marco walked over to him.
"You called for me, yoi?" Whitebeard nodded.
"Did something happen last night?" Shit. Marco shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look nonchalant.
"Not that I know of, yoi." He ignored Whitebeard's gaze on him. "Why do you ask, yoi?"
"Nothing much. I'm sure you're aware that Kenbunshoku Haki can be used to sense not just people's presence, but also their intentions, as well as their emotions?" Marco nodded, as Whitebeard continued. "I usually keep my Kenbunshoku Haki active even when I'm asleep." He paused and laughed fondly. "Gurarara, I had to, since Ace kept trying to attack me whenever he could when he first joined." Marco's heart skipped a beat. Oh, this Ace must've tried to kill Whitebeard before he joined too, yoi, he smothered his hopeful longing once again before it could even surface. "Last night, I felt a wave of emotions so strong and so intense that it even woke all of the Division Commanders up, all of whom are capable of Kenbunshoku Haki but do not use it in sleep. So I was just wondering if you know what might be the cause of it."
"I didn't feel anything last night, yoi. I was asleep the whole time, yoi." He lied. "Have you tried asking any of the others, yoi?" Whitebeard shook his head.
"No. Many of my sons have not yet unlocked Haki, and some are not even aware of it. Other than the Division Commanders and a selected few, nobody else woke up. So I see no need to cause them unnecessary worry." Marco furrowed his brows.
"So why did you ask me, yoi? You don't even know if I have Haki or not, yoi."
"Because you will need to be informed of such matters in the future as my First Division Commander."
"What," Marco stared, wide-eyed, at Whitebeard. "did you just say, yoi?"
"I'm making you my First Division Commander." Whitebeard repeated effortlessly with an amused grin.
"What- No! You can't just decide something like that, yoi!" Marco protested.
"We asked everyone. They all agreed that you should be the First Division Commander." At the voice he knew so well, his head snapped over to see the sight of Ace, along with the other Division Commanders, walking up to them. They came to stop next to Whitebeard, spreading out on either side of him. It looked like a whole complete family picture, but somehow seemed to be missing something at the same time. Or someone. Marco cursed under his breath as he shoved that hopeful little voice back where it belonged in the very back of his mind.
"In fact, they insisted on making you the First Division Commander as soon as possible." Thatch added with a laugh. "I honestly think they just don't want to handle the paperwork anymore."
"So you're just going to dump it all on me, yoi? I don't want to handle paperwork either, yoi." Marco huffed, crossing his arms. "And besides, why are you guys so insistent on making me the First Division Commander, yoi? Being the First Division Commander essentially puts me above everyone else, yoi. I'm literally going to be ranked just below," Marco gestured to Whitebeard, trying to find the right term. "the captain, yoi. Me, who's only been in this crew for a few weeks, yoi. I will be playing the role of pretty much the first mate and handling all that (even as annoying as it is) important paperwork, yoi. Wouldn't someone else who's been on the crew longer be more trusted to handle something so important and confidential, yoi?" Simultaneously, the same dark look he'd seen before on Ace's face came over all of them.
"We've learnt from experience that anyone can be a traitor, even someone who's been on the crew for decades and had been thought to be a trusted brother." Thatch spat with nothing but pure hatred in his voice, the same hatred being reflected in all of their eyes. Their words and the resentment in their expressions reminded Marco of Teach's betrayal, and unconsciously, his face contorted in anger.
"So what makes me any different, yoi?" Marco buried the infuriating thoughts of that traitor into the very depths of his mind and forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand. "How are you so sure that I won't betray you, yoi?"
"Will you?" Whitebeard questioned, but the tone of his voice and the way he looked at Marco implied that he already knew the answer. Marco suppressed the urge to fidget. The way Whitebeard and the other Division Commanders carried themselves around him screamed nothing but absolute trust. They didn't just know he can be trusted; they're sure of it and already trust him wholeheartedly.
"No." Marco closed his eyes, keeping silent for a while, before opening them again as he raised his head to meet Whitebeard's eyes. "But I still can't be your First Division Commander, yoi." His voice was soft as he spoke, but his gaze was defiant.
"Why not? Give us a reason, Marco." Vista pressed.
"Because…" You're not my family, yoi. Marco trailed off, fighting to keep his gaze steady. No, he couldn't say something like that to them. They may just be their reincarnations, but they're still the reincarnations of his family. It was clear they see and treat him as family, one of their own, even when they didn't remember him or who they were in their past lives. He just couldn't say something so cruel to them. It'd be like spitting in their faces and trampling on their love. "I just can't, yoi."
Because they're not my family.
"Bullshit. Of course you can! You're our brother!" Marco's gaze wavered ever so slightly at Haruta's words.
They're not my family.
"Why are you resisting it so much, Marco? Stop acting like a stranger! You're a part of our family!" Thatch complained. The tattoo on his chest seemed to burn, and as if reacting to the phantom pain, his flames flickered to life, albeit unnoticed by him.
They're not my family.
"Give it up, Marco. You know how stubborn Oyaji can be when he sets his mind on something." Ace shot him a smirk and Marco forced himself to swallow the retort that came instinctively.
They're not my family.
"Marco, my son." Marco flinched. He looked up at Whitebeard, who loomed over him at full height, but far from threatening, it was done as if to shield and protect him. It reminded him of the way his Oyaji would stand between them and an enemy. To the enemy, the way he loomed over them was a menacing threat and often enough to leave them shaking in their shoes. To his family though, they all saw it for what it was; he was shielding them, preventing the enemy from hurting his precious sons.
They're not my-
"Take your rightful position as First Division Commander and stand by my side again."
No. They're not-
"Be my voice of reason, and the pillar of support for this family."
They. Are. No-
"You're the final missing piece that we needed to complete this family, and I'm sorry we took so long to find you." Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to keep his voice steady.
"Stop it, yoi." Please. He begged in his mind as he looked down, shoulders sagging along with his resolve. "Stop saying things like that, yoi." Stop speaking the words that only his family should've known. It only makes his hopeful desire grow in vain.
"No, you needed to hear it, son." Whitebeard remained firm. "Normally, I would not push the matter if you refuse. Regardless of your choice, you are my son. I am here to give you choices, to guide you towards a choice you will not regret. I want you to make a choice based on what you want, and not because of me. Even if your choice goes against what I would prefer, I will not think lesser of you, neither will I reject you for it. But this?" He narrowed his eyes at Marco. "You're refusing, but it's clearly not what you want. There's an underlying reason for your refusal, and you're listening to it, instead of following this." He placed a fist to his chest where his heart is. "And I refuse to accept that. So, let me ask you again. Are you willing to once again take up the role of my right-hand man, Marco?" Marco doesn't reply, but he can feel the eyes of his crew boring into him, filled with the same immense hope bubbling up within him. "What do you say, son?" He looked up to meet Whitebeard's gaze again, and nearly stumbled back at the affectionate fatherly look on his face, so so so extremely familiar. And the look of recognition in their eyes, along with the knowing smiles on their faces. The words they have spoken in their past life. Their familiar actions ever since he joined. Their ease with him from the very beginning. It hit Marco all at once.
They remember.
Despite how impossible it sounded, despite how long it had been.
They remember.
Somehow, one way or another. All this time.
They remember.
The tears were falling freely before he could stop it (not like he made any attempts to). His arms morphed into wings, taking him up into the air and straight into Whitebeard's chest. Whitebeard received him with open arms, wrapping him into a loving embrace, one he had missed and longed so much for.
"I…I accept, yoi. Oyaji..." He choked up, revelling in the way Whitebeard's chest vibrated as his laughter crept out of his throat in a low rumble.
"Gurarara, I really missed hearing that from you, my son." The words, spoken so affectionately, only served to elicit another choked sob from the Phoenix.
"Oyaji... Oyaji... Oyaji!"
"You're home now, Marco. You're finally home now, son." His father said, ever so fondly, patting his back comfortingly.
"Welcome home, Marco!" His brothers chorused, their voices warm and accepting as they crowded around the pair, arms slung over one another's shoulders in a tight-knitted group hug.
They are his family.
And he was truly, truly, home again.
"I'm home, yoi."
Did I confuse you in the previous chapter? Sorry not sorry, it was intentional :P Yes, the Whitebeard Pirates do remember him, and this is the end of the story!
But not quite, there's actually more! I have a few more chapters that I wrote for fun, about a few things behind the scenes or technically, it's like an epilogue. Some of the questions you might have will (hopefully) be explained then!
For now, enjoy, look forward to future chapters, and reviews are always welcomed!
