Hello life s blind readers! I know I said this chapter will be late, but I haven't gotten used to the new time zone yet, so I Couldn't sleep. So, here's the next chapter!

I don't own One Piece. If I did... I don't even want to think about it.

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Chapter 5

I blinked. I blinked again. The fight! I had been knocked down! I immediately rolled to the left, and, SLAM!

"Ow!" I fell, which was not what I was expecting, and hit the floor!

That's when I started taking notice of things around me. For one thing, ere were no battle cries, no awful smell of blood.

For another, I could smell the nose-clearing scent of rubbing alcohol and that sanitary kind of smell that I had come to asocsiate with sickbay.

There was the sound of clicking footsteps, and someone grabbed me under the armpits and hauled me back up, placing me on a bed, which I must have fallen from. "Zia!" Marco's voice said, his tone both chiding, and slightly worried. "You alright?"

I nodded. "Marco, the fight. What happened?"

Marco didn't answer me for a while. Then, he says, "What do you remember?"

I shrugged. "I was about to get my head chopped in two by an axeman, I think."

Marco went quiet again. "You think it was an axe?" he asked, a hint of something I couldn't enderstand in his voice. I nodded. "Well, the man who attacked you had a club, not an axe."

I frowned. I could have been certain it was an axe. But, Marco was the one who could see. I wasn't about to argue with him. I would rather get bludgeoned than chopped in two."So, he hit me." I summarized, rubbing my forehead with my palm. "And I blacked out and was useless for the rest of the fight."

"That's about it." Marco said. You were lucky I got there in time."

I bit my lower lip in frustration. "This sucks!" I burst out, making Marco jump. I could tell, because the weight on the mattress shifted a great deal, and the springs made a screeching noise. "I... I've trained for something like this for six months, and I'm just dead damned weight on the battlefield!"

Marco bopped me over the head. "Language, Zia." he said. "And you're not dead weight. This was just your first time, and you've got a handicap no one else on that battlefield has."

"Thanks." I muttered through gritted teeth. "I don't have a constant t reminder of that whenever I open my eyes."

Marco sighed, sounding really irritated. I sighed. "Marco... I'm sorry." I managed. "I was just so excited to prove that what you're doing for me isn't all for nothing. I hate feeling this useless..." I sniffed. No. I thought. You can't cry. Not now. Marco put his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's fine." he said. "We'll keep trying. Sometimes, things just don't go the way you want them to go, and it's hard. We'll just have to push through it, so no more tears, okay."

I nodded and rubbed my eyes with my forearm. "Right. Tomorrow, I'll train like there's no tomorrow."

Marco laughed. "Good to hear!" he said. "But for now, get some rest. You'll need it." He stood up, making the mattress creak and groan again. "Good night." he said.

"Is it night?" I asked, cocking my head to one side. "It's a quarter after eleven." Marco said. I blinked. "Okay. G'night."

I rolled over, and pulled the covers over my head. They smelled like sickbay. I had grown used to their scent over the past six months. Had it really been six months since I had joined the crew? It felt like I'd been here for a few days. But still, I already felt at home with these people. They really were family. Sure, Thatch is a little off his rocker, but I could expect that. It's like having a crazy older brother. I couldn't imagine life without them.

I smiled and snuggled up against my pillow.

Marco sighed as he shut the door to sickbay. It was a beautiful sunny morning. Hey, he hadn't exactly lied to Zia about it being night, she just assumed that he had meant eleven at night. He walked over to Whitebeard's room and knocked on the door. He stepped inside when asked to do so.

"So," Whitebeard asked when Marco shut the door. "Did she remember?"

Marco shook his head. "If she could, she's a damn good actress. She only remembered up to when that man tried to split her head open." Marco frowned.

"What is it, son?" Whitebeard asked.

Marco sighed. He figured he might as well tell Pops. If he couldn't tell him, who could he tell. "This whole act is playing on my nerves." he said, rubbing his face with his hands. "I feel guilty lying to her like this. She's not stupid, Pops. She'll figure out something's up before long. She remembered the part leading up to when she went berserk with quite a bit of detail. She could tell what weapon her opponent used. I managed to convince her it was a club, but it took me a while." He tried not to flush with pride for his student's accomplishment when he explained this.

"We'll have to keep up the facade, Marco." Whitebeard said, scratching to back of his head. "I can't emphasize enough how important this is."

Marco nodded. He knew. He knew he was doing this for Zia's own good as well as the good of the crew, but he could still feel the weight on his shoulders of a guilt that threatened to know at him. Living a lie was not going to be easy.

(four months later) "You're what?!" I yelped, slamming my hands down on Sprint's mattress so hard it squeaked loudly.

"You heard me." Sprint said. "Doctor says I'm finally dying. It's going to be a slow process, but-" his sentence was cut short by another one of his violent coughing fits. He turned away, and I could tell by the fact that his coughs were slightly muffled that he was covering his mouth with his arm. Finally, he stopped. "It's fine." he said. "I knew for years that this disease would kill me one day." He stopped to catch his breath.

It was no secret to anyone that Sprint had gotten worse. He had been coughing a lot more in recent months, and according to Izo, he was losing weight rapidly, despite his hollow leg appetite.

I felt a lump rise in my throat. "But... You can't just die, Sprint. You- you still have so much to live for! I mean-" My sentence was cut short by a sob. I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes. It didn't take much for me to start crying freely.

Sprint ruffled my hair. "Hey," he said, concern in his voice. "Look at me." I couldn't see him, but I still looked up in his direction.

Sprint sighed. "I'm not dead yet. And I'm not scared at all, either. So don't cry, alright?" He stopped and took a few very long breaths.

I swallowed hard. "Why aren't you scared?" I asked. "You're dying! It means you're never coming back!"

Sprint was silent for a moment. "You ever heard of reencarnation, Zia?" he asked. I shook my head, sniffing and wiping my eyes with my forearm. "Well," Sprint said. "It's when-" He broke down coughing again, this time, a little longer and more violently than before. When he finally calmed down, he said, "Basically, it's when you die, your soul is transferred to a new body. Who knows, maybe I'll return as a... I dunno, a neptunian or something." I snorted.

"A neptunian?" I said, chuckling through my tears.

Sprint must have noticed this, because he went on. "Or maybe a duck-billed platopus! Or a bear. I like bears."

"I think you'd be a wymerainer." I said.

This time, it was Sprit's turn to laugh. Of course, it quickly turned into another coughing fit. "Right, that'll happen." He said. "I think you're finally picking something up from the king of comedy." He was silent for a second. "I still feel fit to run a marathon." he said.

I smiled. "Sprint," I asked, finally getting control of my voice. "Why doesn't death scare you? Is it because you think you'll come back?"

"Well, it's partly that, I suppose." he said. "But I think it's just the fact that I've known for so long now, I've gotten used to the idea of dying. I mean, when you're a pirate,every day you live might be your last. My death'll just come in a different way than others. So no, I'm not scared at all."

I swallowed again. "Right." I said. "Then if you're not scared, I won't cry anymore." I'm pretty sure Sprint smiled at me for that. "Good to hear."

(One year later)

"So, what happened after that, Thatch?" I asked, shoving a large piece of meat In my mouth. "Did you beat him?"

Thatch, who was standing right by the galley kitchen window, cooking up a delicious-smelling stir fry, laughed. "I didn't even have to!" he laughed. "The guy took on look at my buff abs, and the mark on my back, he just hi-tailed it out of there!" Teech, Haruta, and Blenheim burst out laughing at this.

I, on the other hand, frowned. "Mark on your back?" I asked. "What mark?"

The guys went quiet. "You don't know?" Teech said, sounding alarmed. "You've been on the crew for over a year and you don't know about the mark?"

I shook my head. "What is it?" "Well, it's the Whitebeard pirates' Jolly Roger." Teech explained. "Everyone on the crew gets one."

"Obviously not everyone." I said. ."How come Marco never told me about it?"

Thatch placed another plate of food in front of me. "You should ask him." he said.

I nodded, jumping off my stool. "I think I'll do that."

"Hey, Marco?" Marco turned around to see Zia coming towards him. She tripped over a piece of rope, then steadied herself, and finally stopped when she was by his side. "What's up, kid?" Marco asked.

Zia immediately frowned. She pouted slightly. "I'm not a kid." she grumbled. "I'm a Whitebeard pirate."

Marco laughed. "In my book, twelve years old s still a kid." He almost doubled over laughing when Zia gave him the stink eye. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Zia asked, frowning.

Marco felt his heart leap into his throat. "About what?" he asked. How on earth had she figured it out?

"I mean, why not tell me about the mark everyone gets on their backs?"

Marco stopped. Mark? She was talking about the tattoo? "Must have slipped my mind." he said, trying to keep the relief in his voice to a minimum.

"say, how come I've never gotten it done?"

Marco felt like the deck had been pulled out from under him. "No!" he snapped. "Absolutely not!"

Zia stepped back a bit, looking alarmed.

"You're just a kid! You can't go running around getting a big honking tattoo on your back!"

"But I-"

"The answer is no, Zia." he said with finality.

Zia frowned. "Fine." she said. "Sorry to bug you, Marco." With that, she strode away.

Marco turned and stared at the ocean, wondering if he should feel annoyance at the thought of Zia getting a tattoo, or relief that she hadn't found out about the berserker haki.

"Zia, are you sure about this?" Haruta asked for the umpteenth time that half-hour.

I frowned at him. "For the last time, I'm sure. It's stupid that you guys get the mark on your back and I don't. Just get it over with."

Haruta sighed. I heard him mutter something about Marco tearing his throat out if he found out. "Now." he said. "This is going to hurt, so I don't want you screaming bloody murder, okay?"

"Jeez, Haruta." I said. "How old do you think I am? Five?"

Haruta sighed in annoyance again before sticking the cold needle into my back.

Thatch smirked as he dried the last of his cookware. Had Zia gone through with it yet? He had told her to just do it, when she told him that Marco had said no. "Mother hen." he chuckled under his breath. Of course, he would never say that to Marco's face. He knew better than most how cranky Marco could get. Thatch looked up when he heard the galley door open. "Hey, Zia!" he said brightly. "How did it go?"

"Not bad." She sat down at her usual place.

"Well?" Thatch asked.

Zia held up her shirt just a bit.

Thatch just caught sight of the bottom of the Jolly Roger. "Nice." he said. "Here, are you hungry? I'll whip something up for you."

"Hey Zia." I turned my head towards the person who had spoken. "Oh, hey Marco." I said, turning back to my food and shoving my fork in my mouth.

Marco was silent for a second. "Say, if you're up for it, how about a sparring match once you're done? You should keep your skills sharp."

I nodded. "Sure." I said, not turning my head this time.

Marco patted me on the back. "Right. See you out on deck."

Involuntarily, I winced.

Marco stopped and turned. I could sense an aura I'd come to associate with demons and other flesh-eating creatures emanating from my division commander. Uh-oh. I think the sh*t's about to hit the fan.

"I told you not to, didn't I!?" Marco roared at me. "But what do you do? You just go through with it anyway! What do I have to do to make you understand that you're too young for that kind of thing!?"

I just stood there, hanging my head. I didn't say anything. I knew the drill. It was the same way with my parents whenever this happened. All these questions they asked were not meant to be answered. If I tried to get a word in, the rant would just go in longer.

Marco was ranting like I'd never heard him do before. Thatch could cause him to shout pretty loud, but I don't even think he could have caused an uproar like this.

"Do you get it?" Marco asked.

Oops. I'd gotten wrapped up in my own thoughts. Better do the safe thing and nod.

Marco sighed in irritation. "I'll have to have a word with Haruta about this..." he growled. Do birds growl? I guess there's a first time for everything.

Jeez, that was torture. It had taken Marco a good half-hour to finish venting at me. Now, I wasn't the only one trying to stay out of his way. Geez, who knew that Marco could be so freaking intimidating?

"Hello Zia."

I nearly jumped out of my skin! I straightened and turned. "Oh! Pops, you startled me!"

Pops chuckled. "I suppose after the chewing out you just got, your nerves would be a little on edge."

I blushed. "You know about that?"

Then Pops really did laugh. "I'm pretty sure the whole ship heard you!" he boomed. "I've never heard Marco shout so loud for such a lengthy period of time!" Then his tone became more serious. "You do know why he's so mad, right Zia?"

"Because I disobeyed a direct order and got your mark tattooed on my back."

Pops sighed. "It's not really that, Zia." he said. "That was a tricky question, so I'm not very surprised you didn't get it."

"What is it, then?" I asked.

"This might take a while to explain." Pops said. "Come and sit." I walked over to Pops. Of course, Pops is pretty quiet, so I ran into his huge foot, and whacked my nose against his shin. I backed up, holding my nose, then sat down at his feet.

"Marco wasn't angry because you got the tattoo. Fundamentally, it's more the fact that you didn't stop to think before you got it. You're still young, so it's hard to control your impulses. Not to mention the fact that you seem like the rebellious type."

I frowned. "I hate it when you guys treat me like a kid." I grumbled. "I know what I'm doing. I know what I'm getting into. And the fact remains that I'm a pirate, and I can make my own decisions when it comes to that kind of thing."

Pops chuckled again. "I think that you and Marco have something to learn from all of this. You need to learn about the balance of power and the importance of listening," He cut off my response. "And Marco could do well to remember that you're not made of glass. You can do things yourself and, well, you're slightly more mature than the average twelve-year-old."

I bit my lower lip. "I just don't understand why Marco does this." I said. "I mean, he's my division commander and all, but he still treats me like I'm a lot younger than I am."

"You're not listening, Zia." Pops chided. "Marco does have a reason, though. He's been looking after you ever since he found you over a year ago. He's seen you at your weakest, and he feels responsible for you. I think he's just playing the overprotective big brother role."

I nodded. "Okay. I think I get it now... Sort of." Pops chuckled. "You'll understand when you're a little older." he said. "Although I'm sure you're sick of hearing that by now. Gurararararara!"

I looked up at him. "You know, Pops, I didn't say sorry." I said.

"And why not?" he asked.

"Because I'm proud to have your jolly roger on my back." I said.

Pops chuckled again. "how is it now?" He asked.

i paused for a second. "Actually, it hurts like hell."

There was another short pause. Then we both laughed.

I strolled down the deck, trying to think of what Pops had said to me. Deep down, I knew he was right. I mean, how can someone who's twelve argue about understanding coming with age with someone who's probably in his late sixties?

I stopped at the very end of the deck and sat down next to a small marker. I felt around to be sure I was in the right place. I finally found the small wooden marker and ran my fingers along it. I smiled.

"I'm pretty sure you're laughing like crazy right now, Sprint." I said. "Wherever you are."

This chapter was more of a filler. It was more focused on how Zia got her tattoo, as you could probably tell.

Marco always struck me as the overprotective big brother type. I don't know why. Maybe I read too much fanfiction. Of course I don't.

Anywho, please review!