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Contrary to popular belief, having your father adopt any idiot he comes across does not automatically lead to peace and harmony as a thousand-strong crew. It feels like the water only ever stills when Whitebeard’s about to throw another boneheaded rookie in to disrupt it. Then everyone goes to Marco to whine about how they don’t want another brother. And this brother is clearly too much of a handful. And can’t you talk to Pops, Marcooooo.
The crew is a powder keg on a good day, but like hell is Marco going to let Portgas D. Ace be the thing that sets it off.
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“Marco, my son.” Whitebeard says, while Marco is bent over him checking that tonight’s medical equipment is set up right. “What’s this I’m hearing about you not liking Ace?”
“I know what you’re about to say,” Marco says, “and I swear, this is different.”
“Everyone on this crew is family.” Whitebeard says, sternly. “I don’t care how annoying, how idiotic, or how dangerous they are. I love each and every one of my sons, equally.”
“I’m your first division commander.” Marco points out.
“Your rank is not an indication of how much I love you, it’s an indication of how much responsibility you have. How much of a role model I want you to be to my other sons. They look up to you. I can still say this: I’m very disappointed in you Marco.”
Marco deflates. “Pops. I know that we’re family, but can you blame me for not wanting another little brother?” He says in his own defense, “Everyone has someone they didn’t want joining.”
“Not me.” Pops responds. Marco could point out that that’s because Pops is the one to pick who joins the crew or not, but he doesn’t need to, since he isn’t actually an exception to the rule.
“You didn’t want Oden to join!” Marco retorts.
Pops’ face scrunches up, “That was different.” He says, without specifying how it was different.