Chapter Text
His gravesite was quiet. Jasmine whispered in the wind, tickling your nostrils. The scent was clean. Peaceful.
It didn't suit him at all.
Waves thrashed against the cliffside, flinging their foamy outrage at the rocks. You tasted salt on your tongue, but you knew it wasn't from the seaspray.
The sunset burned a familiar orange that made your chest ache.
You crouched before one of the headstones. The dark fabric of your “borrowed” Impel Down officer uniform brushed against the grass. Three saucers and a bottle of sake were placed before the grave.
“We could use your help,” said Marco.
You tore your gaze away from the headstone. The breeze traced tear trails on your cheeks.
Marco had an arm wrapped around his torso as he joined you. His steps were slow.
You glanced at the ground. Marco was still recovering from his injuries after Marineford. So were you.
“We’re going after Teech,” said Marco. “He started all of this. He’s still walking free after Thatch —”
You grimaced. You seated yourself next to the headstone on the grass. The orange hat balanced on top was tilting: you righted it with your finger.
“How much of a difference will the Whitebeard Pirates’ bookkeeper make, Marco?” you said.
Marco’s eyes narrowed (an interesting feat, given his brows were in a permanent arch). “You’re more than that, and you know it. You helped him hunt down Teech. I thought you would’ve wanted to finish him.”
“I do.”
“Then why aren't you getting up?”
You glanced at the headstone. It felt so wrong. To stand. To go on adventures. To smile — all without him.
“I’m tired,” you said. You propped your chin up with your hand. “And I’m done. With everything. People, mainly.”
“You think he would’ve wanted you to fight?” said Marco.
You glanced back at the headstone. Instead of concrete, you pictured blushing freckles and a lopsided smile.
“Maybe,” you admitted. “But what can I do? You know how powerful logia users are. I can sneak past Teech, but what then? I’ll only get in your way out there.”
The prime example of a logia Devil Fruit user popped into your brain: how flames burst across his body, burning bullets. How the fire laughed at blades that tried to slice through it, but they never reached his skin. He seemed unstoppable then.
“Y’know, when you showed up wearing that over a year ago-yoi,” Marco gestured at your uniform. “I thought you’d kill us all in our sleep.”
Your gaze returned to the grass. You couldn't argue with him there.
“What did he think?” you whispered.
Marco sighed. “He thought you were pretty. And strong. And sad.”
An icy sickness settled in your heart. You didn't know about the other two, but there was too much sad to go around.
You stood. You brushed spare specs of dirt and blades of grass from your uniform. You brushed off the headstone, too, even when its rough texture scraped against your fingernails.
“You are Pops’ only daughter. Were.” Marco frowned to himself. “But you’re still our sister-yoi. Fight with us. Let’s earn some dignity back from that mess.”
You stopped in front of Marco. It was difficult seeing him without a smile. He usually had a permanent, laid-back charisma (like someone else you knew…). It made you want to do anything to get that smile back — or, more accurately, somehow reclaim the people that were the cause of that smile.
Your fingers twitched towards your ice picks when the person responsible crossed your mind.
Of course you wanted to help Marco defeat Teech. You had a carnal desire to take something from your former crewmate, to somehow avenge all the things he’d taken from you.
But you’d already lost one dream. It didn't stop there, either: you lost your father, and warm, booze-filled nights on the Moby Dick, and laughs you’d never hear again…you’d lost too much already. To have anything else taken from you…
You curled into Marco’s chest. A fresh round of tears prickled the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. I can't. Not yet.”
Marco’s arms wrapped around you. An expensive musk with a tropical note clung to his clothes: you’d bought it for Marco last winter. It was a wonder you could still smell it after the bandages, and the blood, and the flames…
“Where will you go, then?” Marco said.
You shrugged in his arms. Your voice was muffled by his jacket, “I don't know. Far away from everything. A deserted island would be ideal.”
Marco stiffened. “Maybe…try a small town first-yoi?”
Your nose wrinkled. Small towns meant bars, and bars meant distant memories of the Whitebeard Pirates putting fraternities to shame. Not a good idea.
“No offense, but…maybe I should avoid all male life forms for the foreseeable future,” you said.
“I’m sure there’s a female-only island out there, just for you-yoi,” said Marco.
“Absolutely not. That’s even worse!”
You couldn't see Marco, but you could feel his broad shoulders moving like he was holding in a chuckle. Pineapple-shaped prick.
“Humor me,” said Marco.
You and Marco broke apart. He ruffled your hair. “Stay in touch-yoi.”
“Same to you. Don't die, extreme water sport.”
Marco rolled his eyes. A wisp of his old smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not gonna miss that.”
You gave Marco a light shove. He pretended to stumble back, a look of mock offense on his face.
“Be nice!” you said. The familiar banter made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Marco’s gaze softened. He waved at the graves. “I’ll be back soon-yoi. I’ll bring more flowers when I do.”
You nodded as if you could answer for the headstone. Marco gave you one last hug and turned away. You watched his blond tufts of hair bounce until he was out of sight.
Your attention returned to the headstone. You sighed in the silence. It didn't hold the same firecracker-spitting energy that it used to when you two were alone together.
“I’m afraid to leave you alone,” your voice quivered. “Whenever I do, you always light something on fire. It's kind of cute.”
You cringed. That wouldn't be much of an issue anymore. That dream, along with everything else, was long gone.
Your fingers caressed the rough stone’s edge. You imagined silky strands of dark hair instead.
You lowered your voice, “Do you still think about that kiss, wherever you are…? Ace?”
No one answered. The silence stung, save for the moaning waves below.
The vibrant orange of the sunset faded. It surrendered to the dark reds and violets of twilight creeping across the sky.
Nothing gave way to the newcomer’s approach. There was no snapping twig or bent blade of grass, but you felt his presence before he spoke.
“Y/N-ya, have you decided where you want to go?”