Chapter 1: First Encounter
Chapter Text
There’s a party on the deck of the Moby Dick.
Within an hour of Jinbe’s arrival, Thatch had the fourth division firing on all cylinders to produce enough food to satisfy the crew’s greed. Of course, drinks had been passed around long before the stove was lit, and four hours later, drinks had also been spilled, wasted, and tossed back with the abandon of men comfortable with dying at sea. The alcohol flew freely and the food hadn’t stopped coming. It was a celebration after all. They didn’t get to see their honorary brother every day.
The impromptu party easily distracted from questions of why the other captain had come to visit as had the initial excitement of his arrival. Being First Son of the Sea usually left Jinbe too busy for visits. So, once the crew knew he had no urgent business to attend to, they had swarmed their friend.
Now, Jinbei makes his way through a drunken crew clamoring for his attention to the foot of Whitebeard’s chair. By the time he sits down, he notices his long since empty cup has been refilled. More than refilled actually.
As the Fishman regards what he realizes to be a different cup than he previously held (and was certain he hadn’t put down), Whitebeard lets out his booming laugh.
Jinbe just sighs, setting down his new cup and turning his attention to the captain instead. “I’m afraid I didn’t just come to visit.”
“Oh?”
Jinbe’s much more serious now than anyone at a party should be. “I wanted to ask a favor.” Whitebeard lowers his own drink without relinquishing his grip on the handle, waiting for his guest to continue. “There was an incident in the East Blue, involving ex-members of the sun pirates. I know you have connections all over the Blues, I’d like to know more about what happened and about the pirate who defeated him if you’re willing to check in on the matter for me.”
Whitebeard offers a grin alongside his aid. “Of course. This pirate you’re looking for, what’s their name?”
“I'm afraid I don't have that information. The only news on the incident comes from the navy press releases, and either the navy doesn't know much about the captain or they're withholding information. All I've been able to find out about is his bounty, three other reported incidents, and his moniker.”
Whitebeard raised a brow. "He has a bounty without a name or photo attached to it? That's a bit of a desperate gambit on the navy's part for some rookie pirate from the weakest of Blue's."
"Well," Jimbei offers a wry smile, "the last upstart they underestimated from the East has turned into quite the problem." At that, they both glance over to a certain second division commander busy challenging Thatch's ability to cook as fast he eats.
Whitebeard regards the boy with a fond smile before bearing his full grin to Jinbe. "Well, I suppose that's true. These other incidents you mentioned must have been something special to get their attention."
"Well, he took out the two largest bounties in the East, rather handily apparently, and before defeating a Don Kreig at the Baratie, he survived an encounter with Hawkeye."
That gets Whitebeard's attention. It's an impressive feat for upstarts which Mihawk is so well known for cutting down without hesitance or remorse. He sets down his drink and leans forward in his seat. "Now that is something. You said he had a bounty."
"Yes, thirty million belis dead or alive provided you can somehow prove the identity of the catch."
Thirty million belis is unprecedented as a starting bounty. Perhaps the navy is hiding something. That high a price for a pirate without even a picture to use to track him, could they be covering up his true identity, hoping to claim a prize from fools who know not the worth of what they've caught? Whitebeard's hooked. There's something going on here, and it's been a while since a pirate has caught his interest. Ace has been here three years now, and no one has ignited that same spark of curiosity in the Yonko or his sons since.
Jinbe gives him a knowing smile. Whitebeard does his best not to call the brat out on trying to bait him. He hardly has the high ground to make such a comment considering it's working. Instead, he moves on, prompting, "You said he had a moniker."
Graciously, Jinbe accepts the brushing over of Whitebeard's clear investment in the story and replies, "Yes, they are calling him Strawhat."
A smile. Whenever Whitebeard remembers Roger, the first thing he remembers is a smile, a companion to the man even in death. Then he aches. Body swept up by the memories of hard-fought battles and missing a time where the pain was a response rather than a state of being. He's gotten old, old enough that he thought he might never see what became of that strawhat Roger's brat passed on to someone during his time in the east blue.
He of course knows that this cannot be the legacy Shank's chose, and destiny has never been something Whitebeard put much stock in. He had sought out strength knowing you create your own place in the world.
But, he remembers that D-shaped grin that would overtake Roger's face and an impossible story about the significance of something as commonplace as a middle name, or a middle initial anyway. Roger moved through the world in unimaginable ways, and with everything Whitebeard knows of the sea, he at the very least assigns coincidences lower weight than destiny.
So, for a second, Whitebeard allows himself to consider the weight of an impressive rookie already feared by the navy and blessed by Mihawk's bloody hands being marked only by his wearing of a strawhat; he considers that Roger's will may have found itself a second chance to take the world by storm; he considers whether Roger's death marked a sort of peace in his life or a boredom he's learned to live with. Then, he decides Jinbe may be a son to him in many ways but he's also a bastard because Whitebeard definitely doesn't know peace right now, and he won't until he knows more about this little upstart.
Later, Whitebeard will have Marco collect everything Jinbe knows about Strawhat, so they can start their search into the brat, and he'll have Vista order a subscription to the best paper in the East Blue because Edward Newgate is a seasoned pirate and knows they'll need it.
This is the first time the Whitebeard pirates heard of Strawhat, a pirate in the weakest Blue of no great note or renown by new world standards, but it will certainly not be the last.
Chapter 2: Catching Up
Summary:
The Whitebeards start to gather information on Strawhat.
Notes:
Nothing too exciting. Just reviewing what the Whitebeards know up to this point. Definitely not my favorite chapter, but I do love Marco and Thatch. Next up though is Loguetown. Also huge thanks to the people who took the time to comment on this fic, definitely fueled this latest update. I'm hoping to get Loguetown and Entering the Grandline up soon since I actually have some work done on those chapters. First, I have to make it through midterms though.
Chapter Text
“You really can’t tell me anything?” Thatch inquires despite knowing he won’t receive the answers he’s searching for.
“No, because I’m not in the business of helping Whitebeard tame rookies. I certainly didn’t just hand you over, cabin boy.” In the background of the call, Thatch hears the steady thud of a knife hitting against a cutting board.
Offhandedly, he wonders if the den den mushi properly expresses the twitch in his brow at the use of that long outgrown title. “Ya know old man, I haven’t been a cabin boy in a long time.”
“Maybe,” Zeff acquiesced, “but you never were anything else on my ship and that’s all that matters. Feel free to tell Newgate that the only thing I got for him is a wooden leg he can stick up his ass.”
Thatch rolled his eyes at that one. Oyaji certainly wouldn’t care; he found Zeff entertaining and generally harmless. After all, despite Zeff’s complaints of Thatch’s poaching by the yonko, in reality, he packed up Thatch’s things (as well as some gifted second-hand cooking utensils from the crew) once he realized Thatch wanted to stay on the Moby Dick. Technically, Oyaji may have kidnapped Thatch, but Zeff’s fight over the slight only went as far as Thatch wanted it to.
“Besides,” Zeff starts up again, “that boy isn’t the type to follow another man.”
“Wh-” the transponder snail goes dead -”at does that mean,” Thatch finishes lamely. With a sigh, he sets the receiver down and heads toward the galley. He runs into members of his division on the way. They shuffle into the room intent on preparing breakfast. When they notice their unexpected visitor, the division members continue on as if too distracted by their work to notice the elephant in the room, quickly moving on to aid with meal prep. Thatch, never one to avoid an issue, instead approaches their unwelcome guest.
“Whatcha reading?”
Marco doesn’t move the paper from where it covers his face when answering Thatch’s question, but the bored expression the man’s wearing comes through clearly in his tone. “The newspaper.” He turns the page.
Thatch raises a judgemental brow, trying to convey how unimpressed he is with Marco, who is abusing his rights as first mate and intimidating Thatch’s division. He ignores the nervous glances of said division, who are spread out across the galley. It’s not too hard since everyone’s given Marco a pretty wide berth. Being the first to get on Marco’s nerves was the best way to earn an express ticket to a mile out from the Moby in sea king infested waters
Luckily, Thatch is well practiced in facing the wrath of a disgruntled phoenix and, just this once, in the right in questioning the first mate's actions (not that being in the wrong would have prevented Thatch from bothering Marco).
“Uh-huh, and, dear brother of mine, is there a reason you’re reading a paper in the galley - which by the way is supposed to be closed right now at-” Thatch looks out one of the windows as if giving careful appraisal to the barely thinning darkness on the other side “-just short of the crack of dawn?”
With a crew as large as theirs, every meal was an event requiring careful preparation, preparation Thatch prefer was uninterrupted by at times well-meaning but definitively disruptive brothers. Marco didn’t just get to ignore that rule because the fourth division was scared of an early morning wrestle with a sea king. More importantly, if Marco was hiding away in here instead of getting work done in his office, there was a reason, probably a reason that would make for good gossip, and as one of the biggest gossips in the family, Thatch was duty-bound to acquire such information at the risk of his pompadour.
“You going to try and make me leave, yoi?” Marco still hasn’t looked up from the paper.
“Not yet.” Helpful and cooperative are not words used to describe Marco before breakfast. Luckily, a good story is worth a little leg work. So, Thatch leans in closer to get a better look at the front page of Marco’s paper.
New Marine Captain Assigned to Head Shell Island Base
Shell Island? Thatch has never heard of the place. So why would the paper deem something as simple as a personnel change leading news? He looks to the top of the page. It reads “East Blue Times” where “World Economy Newspaper” should be. Without even giving Thatch a moment to process, Marco is folding up the paper and making to leave, always one step ahead of the rest of the crew.
“Hey-”
“You know what Thatch? You’re right, yoi. I shouldn’t be in the galley, not when it’s so clearly distracting you.” Marco reaches down to pick up a small stack of papers at his side. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Now, this wouldn’t do. Thatch rushes over to his brother’s side with speed usually reserved for the battlefield, but the situation at hand is rather desperate in its own right. Gently, he coaxes Marco back into his seat, ignoring the knowing smirk directed at him.
“No no no, what kind of brother would I be if I sent you away. Besides, we’re long overdue for some quality time. So, you stay here and finish reading, while I get us some coffee.” Marco, though clearly, annoyingly satisfied with the turn of events, doesn’t say anything else before opening up the same paper he had been reading.
Thatch is diplomatic enough not to comment on how smug Marco is being because right now he needs him. Haruta and Marco were in charge of the investigation into Strawhat, started at Jinbe’s request four days ago. With the combined resources of the Whitebeard Pirates, four days is a long time. And yet, between rumors, navy reports, and the combined sources of the crew, they knew almost nothing more than what Jinbe had already told them. Thatch’s own lead, in the form of his former captain, had proved largely fruitless as well. Really, they don’t know much more than what Jimbe already told them.
He hurries back with coffee, ignoring the judgemental looks of his division as he makes his way over to Marco. Despite what those present may assume, the birdbrain hadn’t won yet. Thatch could still get what he wanted out of this even if he had to make a few concessions. Besides, he could still toss Marco out after he got what he needed from him.
Setting the unsubtle bribe in front of his brother, Thatch gets comfortable in the seat across from Marco. Time to get down to business. “So-” he glances at the paper on the table. “-anything interesting in there.”
Marco takes a long sip of coffee before answering. “Interesting sure, but not particularly useful.” Well, that was not what Thatch wanted to hear. He looks at Marco expecting elaboration. Marco is kind of enough to oblige. “It doesn’t really cover much we don’t already know.”
Marco reaches down to pick up a paper and drops it in front of Thatch. It details the destruction of the Baratie in the battle between the Don Krieg and the Strawhat Pirates. Another paper falls in front of him before he can truly appreciate the photo of Zeff shoving the camera away from his face that accompanies the piece.
The next article is not a front-page story. In fact, it looks like the page belongs with the piece he just read. It discusses Mihawks valiant efforts to protect the Baratie from Don Krieg, which Thatch could safely assume was not Mihawks intention. Even skimming, it’s not hard to notice how the praises for the warlord are poured on heavy toward the end of the article, perhaps to distract from the fact that Mihawk didn’t actually stick around to defend the Baratie or to apprehend the pirates he fought. It doesn’t really matter. Warlords are clearly rather irrelevant figures to the East Blue at large if the blatant propaganda can't even make the front page. At best, they can be more certain Mihawk and Strawhat had crossed paths thanks to the timeline the articles provide. But, Jinbe had already been able to confirm that with some government contacts.
Another front-page piece is presented to Thatch. Two photos sit side by side under the title. The first is some sort of mockery of Saobody Park with Arlong’s name blazoned across the top. The second is a pile of rubble that can only be relevant as an after photo of the first image. After what, though supposedly covered in the article, is much less clear a story than the photos provide. The article discusses how Arlong was captured by marines quite prominently before discussing how the marines had found the Conomi Islands in various states of ruin as a result of a fight between the Arlong and Strawhat Pirates. The latter were supposedly run off by the villagers before the marines could come to their aid. At this point the article devolves into a discussion about the personal responsibility of citizens in the war on pirates, causing Thatch to lose interest. Marco was thorough enough that Thatch didn’t really have to worry about reading everything. He could rely on his dear elder brother to summarize the important bits.
Though so far it seems like there was worryingly little for Marco to share. He looks back up to find the man resting his head on one of his hands. “Is that all?” Thatch prods without bothering to hide his current disappointment.
“There are a couple odd mentions of an east blue bounty hunter being spotted in the vicinity of the Strawhats, possibly chasing after them. There’s also an article on a missing girl from C ocoyashi, suggesting the Strawhat’s as possible culprits. But it’s all speculative, yoi. Not enough information on either story to give them real weight.”
Marco had started moving their cups before he finished talking. So, when Thatch collapses dramatically onto the table, he does not end up throwing the drinks down with him. . “I thought you said there was something here we didn’t know.”
“Well,” Marco reaches for another paper at his side. Indulgently, he holds it up so Thatch can read it from where he’s sprawled out.
Brave Mayor Attacked by Pirates: Orange Town Left in Ruins
The article discusses how the citizens found their mayor unconscious. He was supposedly beaten in an attempt to protect the island from a fight between pirates. After properly exalting the mayor for his career of service and his bravery, the article discusses the pirates. There’s a brief discussion of Strawhat and the two people seen fleeing the scene with him, but not much else. The other pirate involved, one Buggy the Clown, is apparently a rather infamous name in the East Blue. The article briefly reviews his larger exploits and includes a picture of his wanted poster.
Thatch can’t say the name means much to him. He continues reading in case there’s something he’s missed while beginning to prompt whatever explanation it is Marco plans to give, “And this matters because . . .” he trails off finally looking up from the article.
“Because Buggy was one of Roger’s cabin boys back in the day.”
Thatch shoots back up, quickly looking to the paper then back to Marco with disbelief. The paper. Marco. For the sake of certainty, he looks to the paper one more time, yet no secrets suddenly reveal themselves in the face of his scrutiny. Back to Marco then. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, yoi.”
“Alright,” Thatch relents with doubt still clear in his voice, “does that mean anything in the grand scheme of things?”
Marco begins gathering up the papers again. “Not sure, but it's certainly interesting.” Still, focused on picking up the scattered pieces, Marco continues, “What about your source? Anything to report?”
With bait like that, Thatch could jerk Marco around a little, but he would undoubtedly be relying on Marco’s intel throughout the investigation. Better, for now, to try and keep his favor. However, Thatch can’t help but copy Marco’s earlier attempt to build suspense. No need to be too nice.
He takes a slow sip from his own coffee cup, then gently sets it on the table. “Afraid not. Zeff was certainly impressed with him though. Maybe even a little protective. He certainly wouldn’t tell me a damn thing.” Marco raises an eyebrow at that. The sentiment of surprise and intrigue so clear in the arch of his brother's brow is one Thatch understands wholeheartedly. Zeff was not easily impressed. “Any chance Ace is willing to reach out to any friends in the East Blue?”
“No way, yoi. He still refuses to acknowledge the rookie at all. Can barely stand to talk about the investigation. So, I suppose,” Marco starts cooly, “will just have to wait for Strawhat to reach Loguetown. Should be any day now, and I doubt he’ll just pass through without causing some kind of scene, yoi."
Chapter 3: Logue Town
Summary:
Logue Town
Notes:
Fun fact: Haruta uses they/them pronouns because I say so.
This chapter was definitely not supposed to go up this early but I'm kind of on a writing kick now. Midterms be damned. You should get at least one more chapter relatively soon. No promises after that though.
Whitebeards are finally making some progress in their investigation thanks to the detailed reports of one captain smoker, but like detailed in the sense that smoker reports things he thinks are important. He's very professional like that. I also feel like his report specifically would get passed around like crazy because of this. Much more fun to read.
Also hope you like this chapter. It was weird to write because it's really just a lot of Haruta talking. They are very much based on my younger sibling telling stories at home.
Chapter Text
Haruta runs. They run with abandon through the halls of the Moby Dick, letting no person or thing impede their charge towards the deck.
Patience gone by the time they reach the final door, they kick it open. Ignoring the cries of weeping hinges and toppled brothers, Haruta heads straight to the foot of Pop's chair, where Whitebeard indulgently offers his full attention. It’s not nearly enough for this kind of news. So, Haruta purposefully straightens under the curious (and irritated for those who had fallen victim to their sibling's mad dash) gaze of their siblings. With a smirk, they announce to the captain just loud enough for all the gathered crew to hear, “Strawhat just left Loguetown.”
A true showman, Haruta does not react to the shouted questions of their family. They wait for more of the crew to gather within the amphitheater surrounding Pop's chair. Patiently, Haruta lets the crowd thicken and allows all the present commanders to be summoned, and when an appropriate audience has gathered, Haruta shares a knowing glance with an amused Whitebeard. It’s clear to both of them such a story will require Haruta to take a center stage position. Gracefully, they take a place standing on the edge of Pop’s knee.
Murmurs and shouts from the crowd die down, and the silence makes the theatrical clearing of Haruta’s throat before they begin to tell their story all the better. “Today in Loguetown, citizens, navy, and pirates alike bore witness to a great tale, a tale of revenge, sorrow, and daring escape all atop the execution platform of the late pirate king.” A collective gasp sounds and the crew settles in.
“Loguetown was once a haven for pirates. A place to stop, rest, and resupply before embarking on a journey to the Grand Line. However, with Roger’s death, everything changed. Nowadays, Loguetown is where East Blue pirates' dreams go to die as they find themselves unprepared to face the navy stronghold at the port town.”
“Haruta we all know what Logue Town is.”
“Yeah tell us about Strawhat!
“Shut up! You’ll only make it worse by interrupting.” That last bit of advice comes from one of Haruta’s division members. Other 12th division members quickly move to subdue crew members preparing to speak out. Haruta patiently waits for nothing less than the crew’s full attention.
Once they have it, they continue. “Despite the current state of Logue Town, many pirates still attempt to stop there before leaving the East Blue, including Strawhat and his crew. However, Strawhat was not alone in his daring infiltration. No, he was followed by an old enemy, Ex-Roger Pirate, Buggy the Clown.” Here Haruta pauses at their siblings' gasps and exclamations of questions not meant to be answered.
“Really?”
“Did we ever figure out what a Roger Pirate is doing in the East Blue?”
“To face off against someone from that crew, this kid’s gotta be pretty strong.”
And so on. This time, the crew quickly settles down so Haruta will start up again. The good behavior is well rewarded.
“Strawhat was eventually lured out to the execution platform. He stood atop preparing to start his journey, where Roger’s ended. Though perhaps his adventure would not go as far as he had hoped, because moments later he found himself surrounded and captured by Buggy the Clown and his crew along with another big name East Blue Pirate,” Haruta turns to Marco, “Alvida.”
“Oh?” Marco responds with a slight smile. The rest of the crew don’t bother to hide their disinterest though they’ve learned well enough to wait moment before they begin their complaints. Haruta doesn’t make them wait long. It’s not fair to, since the name Alvida means nothing to them. Marco and Haruta are probably the only ones who read the East Blue papers cover to cover. And well, one of the earliest ones happened to mention a defeat of an East Blue pirate but offred no one credit for the deed . If Alvida was willing to travel so far to see Strawhat executed, there may be a bit more to that story than Marco or Haruta had first realized. Such speculations can wait though.
Haruta turns back to the crowd. “The Buggy Pirates wasted no time in taking the citizens of the square hostage, securing a proper audience for the oncoming execution of the great Strawhat rookie. Word spread quick. It didn't take long for the marines to have the square and the pirates within it surrounded, but they weren't so hasty as to interrupt a good show. Instead, they are ordered to wait to attack until Strawhat’s head falls. Thus the scene was set.”
“The very air was tense as a large storm brewed overhead. Buggy prepared to kill Strawhat, and the marines sat ready to ambush the prates in the square. The people below watched in silence. It's likely that only the howling wind dared speak. Until, Strawhat cried out his intentions to become the king of the pirates.”
“What!”
“Seriously!”
“In Loguetown of all places.”
“Where the hell did you hear that from Haruta?”
Haruta fights the urge to smile. Simply, maintaining their balance as the platform of pop's knee shakes while he enjoys a healthy laugh at the news. They knew that bit of information was sure to catch everyone’s attention, for good reason. So, understandingly, they indulge the outbursts by continuing the story once the group has mostly calmed down. The rest of the noise meets a rather abrupt end since no one wants to miss out on hearing what happens next.
“Ironically, though Strawhat declared his intention to seize Rogers throne, it seemed as though the boy may only be equal to Roger in death. Until an unexpected ally arrived.” Haruta again directs their attention toward Marco, remembering certain mentions of a bounty hunter in those East Blue papers. “Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro along with another crewman have arrived to save their captain.” That certainly has the bird's attention. So far, they had been unable to determine anything regarding the Strawhat crew.
Taking in Marco’s curiosity, Haruta continues on, further invigorated by the collective interest of their family. “Though it may all be for naught. While the citizens used the Strawahat's appearance as a distraction in order to flee the square, a crowd of pirates remained between Strawhat and his would-be rescuers. The valiant efforts of the misnamed pirate hunter simply lied too far beneath Buggy’s raised sword.” The crew leans in as the story’s climax approaches.
“Suddenly, a voice overtakes the square. Strawhat cried out his final words as the sword swung down. He greeted the oncoming death with a smile.”
Gasps sound like echoes across the deck. Haruta can feel the crew’s disbelief at the thought of Strawhat dead. Clearly, Haruta must be getting rather predictable though since no one cries out their protests against such an ending. They all wait for Haruta to keep going, and really who is Haruta to keep them waiting.
“The blade swings down in unison with a lightning strike. Hundreds of eyes watched but none truly saw what had happened before the platform went up in flames. It crumbled to the ground as if it had not been built to bear th e heavy head of a king, and from the rubble and ashes arose the man who survived where Roger had fallen. Though the young pirate bore no crown, his Strawhat was apparently still intact.”
In an instant, the crew is in an uproar. “Wait a minute-” Rakuyo shouts over the crowd earning Haruta’s attention- “how the hell do you know that the kid smiled.”
Haruta straightens their shirt, trying not to be too offended. While they may have to admit to embellishing stories from time to time, they would not so lightly parallel a man to the Pirate King, famous for facing a certain end with a smile. To offer a rookie any level of equality to a legend is an act even a jester would not make light of.
Camly, Haruta addresses the unwarranted doubt. “If you must know Rakuyo, a Captain Smoker reported the fact within his official report, an odd detail to add, an even odder one to unnecessarily falsify.” They do not grin at Rakuyo. Haruta’s victory is sweeter by the maintaining of a straight face.
“Wait a report?!”
“The marines saw him?!”
"Haruta is there a description!?”
“Or a picture?!”
With the thud of his fist, Whitebeard stops the questioning before it can get further out of hand. “My child.” He offers Haruta the floor yet again.
“Thank you Oyaji,” Haruta offers a respectful nod before turning back to the crowd. Haruta's not thrilled at being so thoroughly cut off, especially considering the story isn’t over. They’ll simply have to settle for withholding the best part for a little bit longer, a fitting enough punishment for their siblings' poor listening skills.
They go ahead and answer a few questions. “According to the captain’s report, Strawhat is in his late teens to early twenties. He has black hair and brown eyes. He’s short and skinny with a scar under his left eye. And, of course, he wears a straw hat.” Haruta scans their audience. Most seem excited by the new information, so Ace’s look of confusion stands out. It’s different than his disinterest and almost anger in response to the rookie so far. Although, it could be something else. Ace has been acting rather odd the whole time, clearly uncomfortable since the story's start. Perhaps, Haruta should tip Marco or Thatch off to the event later. They’re always good at getting Ace to talk.
There’s not enough time to ponder that further for now. Being the center of attention is rather demanding. The demand this time comes from Marco, or at least as first division commander his demand takes priority. “How exactly did you get all this information so fast, yoi?”
Ah, finally a question Haruta is excited to answer. It’s a perfect lead-in to the pièce de résistance. “Oh well, even the Navy gets a little sloppy when sending masses of information in haste. Enough pressure to reach the right officers and someone may call the wrong snail. And, the more reports are passed around the more likely they are to be leaked. Really you know how it goes, Marco.” Haruta goes for coy as they dance around the heart of the matter.
Marco instead goes for the kill. “I do, yoi. What I don’t know is why one rookie’s skirmish with another small-time pirate is worth that kind of response.”
Haruta finally gives in to the urge to grin, face split by a smile dripping with the satisfaction of knowing what no one else does but everyone wants to (even if they don’t realize it yet). “Oh? Did I forget to mention-” they begin with a feigned innocence despite the clear deliberation of their every move- “Before Strawhat escaped he was rescued by the revolutionary, Dragon.”
The usual mask of disinterest falls from Marco’s face. His brows raise to his hairline, and his mouth sits slightly agape in an aborted attempt to respond. The rest of the crew do not hesitate to yell out questions. This time, Whitebeard does not bother to quiet his children, clearly lost in his own thought. The chaos, wonder, and confusion are rather appropriate.
After all, Dragon has never been known to save a pirate.
Chapter 4: Entering the Grandline
Summary:
In which the Whitebeard's are again reminded that having an ex-rival's den den mushi does not mean you are friends
Notes:
Guess who finished their semester! To people who follow this or any of my stories I greatly appreciate your patience. Also thank you for all the comments. They motivate me more than you know. Short chapter but one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Text
“You know, I can’t be sure. A lot of pirates pass through these parts.”
Knowing Strawhat’s visit to Loguetown heralded his entrance to the Grandline, the Whitebeards contacted an old . . .friend, hoping to get a little information. Although they had expected the grumpy old bastard to be difficult, perhaps they hadn’t properly prepared for how frustrating this conversation would be. So, far Crocus wouldn't even admit to seeing the Strawhat pirates. It's been over an hour.
“You have to know something!”
“It’s not like I ask pirate crews for their names whenever they pass through. Although, I might remember a certain young man with a straw hat.” The Whitebeard pirates take in a collective breath preparing to unleash a wave of questions they can finally have answered. “But even if I did, I’m certainly not going to tell you about it. In case you forgot, this number is only for information on the Rumbar Pirates!” A beat of silence.
Then, for a while, the den-den mushi sat in the middle of the deck, smile growing, as the sounds of pirates battling for the receiver rang through the line. Until, Whitebeard motioned for it.
With the patience only a father is capable of, Whitebeard spoke, “You know there was a time I didn’t understand how such a stubborn man followed Roger’s whims. Especially when it was clear you were never all that interested in being a pirate. Of course, then Roger asked about the Rumbar pirates and told me your story, and for all your distaste towards Roger as a patient, I saw how you respected the fool as a man. But, that’s all in the past."
Whitebeard continued, "Now, I cannot imagine what this boy could have done to earn that same respect. Although, I’m sure Laboon is involved. It doesn’t really matter though, because you’re not going to tell us anything of value, are you.” The final statement falls short of being a question. The crew can tell their captain already knows the answer.
“No, I’m not.” And well that’s a real kick in the ribs because earning the loyalty of civilians and marines is one thing. Even catching Zeff’s eye pales to this. To earn the respect of a Roger pirate, to move Crocus’ old rotten heart enough to invoke his protective instinct, was something else entirely. The most damning thing of all, Crocus - of all people Crocus - did not protest when Whitebeard compared his feelings for his captain to his feelings for some rookie, untested by the Grandline.
“Tell me one thing then. The hat, did it suit him?”
The den-den mushi smiles, but not as it did before. There is no smugness or superiority. The snail conveys something wistful, a nostalgia that doesn’t take the good with the bad, instead focusing on the best parts of a long-gone past. “It did.”
The statement is more soft and fond than any pirate, past or present, has any right to be. Of course, Crocus, so decisive and stubborn, is a man comfortable in any action he takes. Half the crew expected the old doctor to hang up, taking Whitebeard’s request of one thing quite literally, but after a pause, the den-den speaks up again, “He’s not the type to follow another man, even the great Whitebeard.” Crocus is serious, and later the Whitebeards would debate if he was delivering a threat or a warning.
“I’m not one to be denied something I want," Whitebeard calmly responds.
The den den vibrates with the force of Crocus’ responding laugh. “No you’re not,” he offers with glee, “and I pity the doctors charged with your care.” There’s another chuckle before the den-den cuts off, leaving more questions to be answered than when they started.
Chapter 5: Whiskey Peak and Little Garden
Summary:
Strawhat's route for the Grandline is set, and most pirates are impatient
Chapter Text
“Shouldn’t somebody help him?” Vista asks. Although the mirth in his voice undermines any sincerity in the question.
Izou doesn’t bother looking up from where he is cleaning his pistols. “I think we best leave this in our first mate's capable hands.”
“Yeah, Marco has it under control. Besides he enjoys corralling troublesome brothers.” Thatch’s answer comes as no surprise. Still, Vista snorts. Troublesome was a rather kind way to describe the asses their brothers were making of themselves. Marco was in the middle of stopping what must be the fifth escape attempt today. It isn’t even noon.
“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Vista says while leaning comfortably against the railing, “pirates aren’t exactly known for their patience.”
“Well, if Marco wants to put an end to this, he could just fly over to Little Garden himself and bring Strawhat back to the ship. Sometimes you just have to give people what they want.”
“Really Thatch.” Vista can imagine the eye roll that accompanies the simple reprimand without having to see Izou’s face.
Although Thatch may have a point. Their brothers aren’t going to be satisfied just waiting for news anymore, not with Strawhat’s stop at Whiskey Peak. News of his so-called conquest of the island had finally answered one of their questions about the rookie: what route he would take through the Grandline. On his current route, the next stop would be Little Garden. And, unless the young captain had the foresight to acquire an eternal pose, Little Garden would be his home for the next year. Hence, Marco’s plight.
Many of the crew are now certain it would be easy for a small party to journey over to paradise, pick up Strawhat, and bring him back to Moby, and this isn’t the first time Thatch has loudly suggested that Marco just fly over, swoop down, and whisk away the young captain. To Marco’s annoyance, Thatch’s musings are gaining traction among the crew along with the push to just sail the whole Moby over to paradise since nobody wanted to miss out on meeting Strawhat.
Not that it mattered. Neither Oyaji nor the commanders, including Thatch, thought it wise to rush over to paradise. It is true that Little Garden had trapped many an unsuspecting pirate, unfamiliar with the Grandline. But really, it would be a rather small feat for Strawhat to surprise them again and escape the island or bypass it altogether. The boy had a tendency to surprise them in much bigger ways than that.
Besides, it’s safer for Strawhat that they not be heavy-handed. The boy may draw in plenty of attention on his own, but there’s no telling what risks the young captain will face if people realize the Whitebeard Pirates are interested in him.
Vista at least is content enough knowing Strawhat’s route and hopeful they will hear more news of him soon. Besides, a cultured man such as himself has enough patience to savor a good mystery. Speaking of which, he came out here for more than the free show and his brothers' company.
“So,” Vista starts casually, “what do you two make of the Whiskey Peak incident?”
Izou still doesn’t look up from his work. “I think Haruta was right; Pirate Hunter seems a rather inappropriate moniker for the boy.” Vista is disappointed but not surprised. Izou is - by self-proclamation – too dignified to gossip. Really, he’s as dramatic as Haruta, but instead of putting himself at the center of chaos, Izo waits in the wings enjoying the struggle til his moment arises to take the stage.
“Well,” Thatch starts, “there’s obviously something off about the situation.” An understatement. While more participatory, Thatch is no more forthcoming with his thoughts than Izou.
Continuing, Thatch turns to Vista, “And, what do you make of it, oh brother of mine?” Now Thatch is fishing for information himself. Izou may not look up, but Vista knows he has both of his brothers' attention. That’s fine. He expected Izo to try and maintain the higher ground, and really, Thatch approached almost every conversation as an opportunity to stay ahead on the latest crew gossip.
No, Vista didn’t mind getting the conversation going. In the many years he’s spent with his family, he’s learned a little kindness goes far when trying to get his own way.
“I think most massacres necessitate aid ships, not prisoner convoys.” It was an easy starting point. Everyone on the ship had read the newspaper and reviewed Haruta’s report on the Naval response. Navy travel logs don’t show any aid ships coming to the town nor do resource reports mention sending any of the materials needed for a mass grave.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Vista seeks his brothers' opinions once more.
“Yeah, I would.” Thatch softens. For the moment, he's clearly more interested in participating in the intrigue. “I snuck a peak at Marco’s stack of East Blue papers. Roronoa’s past exploits make the massacre story seem possible, but Strawhat doesn’t seem the pillaging type, or at least he isn't one to use such widespread violence against people.”
Izou’s grown a little more invested in the conversation, though he still doesn’t look up from his pistols. “How can you be sure of that?” Vista can’t help but interpret the bland tone as a little condescending, challenging Thtatch’s assessment.
Thatch puffs up in theatric offense. “Are you telling me, you actually think Strawhat ordered his crew to lay waste to an entire village?” Despite making the statement a question, Thatch didn’t give Izo a chance to respond. “It’s obvious the marines are covering something up, treating supposed victims like prisoners. They sent more weapons and handcuffs than medical supplies.”
Izou meets Thatch’s accusations with a raised brow. As far as Vista can tell, that brow’s doing a lot of work, carrying the full weight of Izou’s judgment.
Vista can’t help but smile to himself. Seems he’s going to get what he came for after all with the added bonus of witnessing one of Izou and Thatch’s tiffs. Hopefully, his brothers will reveal something that will give Vista an edge in the commander’s betting pool.
After an appropriate pause, ensuring both that Thatch was done and that his unimpressed stare was well felt, Izou responds, “This isn’t about what I think Thatch. What I know is that we don’t have any unbiased information on Strawhat.”
“Yeah, but -”
Izou ignores Thatch’s attempt to interject. “Moreover, a large portion of our information does not come from firsthand accounts. To build a theory on such uncertain foundations is setting yourself up to be wrong.” That advice sounds similar to what Vista teaches new members of his division. To start a fight with Izou is to invite failure and usually pain of all different sorts. Izou is after all as creative as he is sharp-witted. Oh, and violent. He's also violent.
Of course, Thatch was one of the few members of the crew to consistently challenge Izou, because Thatch was - if nothing else - resilient . . .and durable. Hardened as he is, Vista struggles to imagine how Thatch can so constantly risk Izou and Marco’s wrath. Yet, nothing they do seems to deter the 4th division commander's antics for long.
As such, Thatch is unaffected by the underlying harshness of Izou’s words. “Well then dear brother, what kind of theory would you make given our limited information?” Just like before, Vista can hear the challenge in his brother's words. If you’re so smart, prove it; come up with a better theory than mine, or at least a different one. That’s what Thatch’s tone says.
If it were anyone else, Vista doubts Izou would give into the juvenile taunt. It is obvious what Thatch is doing to all three of them, but Thatch has an interesting habit of bringing out his family's childish side.
“Well my darling brother,” Izou begins with a falsely sweet tone, “let’s start with why you’re probably so quick to assume our rookie pirate so innocent: the respect he’s earned across his travels. You are at least reasonable in believing that the respect he seems to earn, even begrudgingly, from so many he’s encountered is a sign he is not your run-of-the-mill pirate. However,” Izou emphasizes that word - “it is nothing short of presumption to think that such respect comes from him being less of pirate rather than in spite of being a pirate.”
“What do you mean?” Vista prompts.
Izou considers both his fellow commanders. He likely does not want to give away too much. Vista’s heard that the 16th division commander is in four separate betting pools along with the commander's only game.
Vista thought the conversation might be over, but with careful thought, Izou continues. “I mean what I said. The boy is a pirate, a position for those who do as they please. No matter how others respect him, there’s no telling what he might do or allow for the right reason.”
“And I suppose you don’t want to share what reason you think might convince someone to lay waste to a population?”
Before Thatch has finished his question, Izou has already turned back to the pistols in his lap. “What is there to tell? As I said before, we don’t have enough information for real theories. And while I am happy to poke holes in your bold presumptions,” Izou looks casually to Thatch, “I don’t gossip.”
Well, that effectively ends the hope of getting anything else out of Izou, but Vista has one more lead to chase before he calls it day. “I do agree we need some better sources.” With that segue, Vista goes after what he really wants. “Thatch, have you heard any word on our brother’s attempts to reach out to his revolutionary contact?”
Thatch doesn't hesitate to answer. “Well, as fun as it would be to drag out this new conversation, I think I’d rather see how the go to Littlt Garden movement has evolved its tactics and demands since this morning. So, I’ll just skip to the disappointment. The only word is that revolutionaries are - as always - elusive, and the problem with having one source in the whole army is that they are often too busy revolting to pick up their den-den mushi.”
“I see,” Vista says while turning his attention back to where Marco is currently stopping brothers from jumping into the sea. Vista quirks a smile at the scene. He’s gotten enough for now. Patience is after all one of his few virtues.
Marco makes an indignant sound as one of their brothers jumps on his shoulders and pulls the first division commander’s hair like reigns. Really, Vista is fine with waiting, because as interesting as Strawhat is, there is plenty of entertainment to be found right here on the Moby.
Notes:
Thank you as always for reading. This story has gotten more popular than I imagined.
Though I still can't promise regular updates, since this recently reached 20,000 hits, I want to do something as a thank you.
I appreciate everyone who reads. I really do write this story for me and for fun. So, I love talking with people about the story and seeing your reactions.
Chapter 6: Extra Content Vote
Summary:
Personal update, not a chapter. Read if you would like a say in extra content.
Chapter Text
Hello, it's been a minute. Previously, I planned to update with a new chapter as a thank you for so many people reading this fic, but suffice it to say, a lot happened. I was reminded very quickly why I don't have an update schedule. A lot is still happening in my personal life that I don't want to give much detail on, but I still want to thank everyone for reading my story, especially people who have continued to keep up with it over long breaks between chapters. Even though I can't post a new chapter for a while, there are other things I can share.
I have two WIPs that I can post without worrying about editing or reaching a final draft point. I plan to post one sometime next week to help tide people over until I have the capacity to continue the main story.
The first is a fic based on the premise of a devil fruit power sending a slightly older Luffy (20 ish) to the moby dick in an alternate timeline before Ace died. It is an alternate universe from the canon post-time skip in terms of who is on the strawhat crew and what interactions Luffy has had with Whitebeards after Marineford. Like Strawhat Rookie it's focused more on character interactions, and it would be good for people interested in seeing the whitebeards interact with Luffy. This is a story I was writing for myself to satiate my own interest in Whitebeard Luffy interactions that will probably never be finished or posted. But I have some pretty finished sections that are easy to read as a stand-alone.
Option two is a short segment of the next installation of the rumor has-it series. Strawhat Rookie will be followed by a second story titled Monkey D. Luffy, focusing on all of the times the Whitebeard pirates heard about Monkey D. Luffy. There is an early chapter already written from when I started drafting this series. I wouldn't post the whole chapter, but I could post a section of it. It is an interaction between Ace, Thatch, and Marco. This a story you will eventually have access to in its entirety, but it would be good for all of you desperate to see Ace as more than a sideline gremlin for the time being.
So, if you are interested in one of these options, vote in the comments until Saturday, August 12th. I will post whichever one has more votes next week. Be weary though, because I will be doing very minimal editing on either WIP before it goes up. It might not be my best work but it will be free content.
As always, thank you so much for reading!
Update: Option one won and has been posted as part of the Rumor Has It series to make it easier to find. Hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 7: Drum Island
Summary:
News is slow and the whitebeards are yet again banging their head against a wall expecting different results (aka calling den den mushi numbers of people they've met during their travels)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
With a huff, Haruta drops the paper their re-reading down onto the desk. “You know Marco, it’s always, ‘Has the navy reported anything, Haruta?’ and ‘Haven’t you heard anything yet?’ and even ‘Come on Haruta, I need to place my bet before Strawhat reaches the next island’ and never ‘How can I help you today oh great commander Haruta?”
Marco continues skimming over the paper in his hand. “I thought you liked the attention, yoi.”
Haruta lets their face slip into a pout even though Marco won’t notice. “No comment.”
Leaning their head back, Haruta traces the patterns in the wood above with their eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, the mystery is fun, but it's hard to enjoy a good story when your whole family is nagging you to skip to the end.” Haruta reaches their hand toward the ceiling, trapping a pattern that looks a bit like a certain pompadour between two fingers. They ruthlessly squash the image, hiding it behind their thumb and pointer finger.
Marco stands from his seat on the floor and stretches, pressing his hands into his lower back as he pushes his hips forward. ‘Ha, old man’, Haruta thinks to themselves. Marco raises his eyebrow at the glint in Haruta’s eye, a question and a dare. Haruta looks away but can’t quite keep the bemusement off their face as joke after joke about Marco’s relatively advanced age runs through their head.
“Well,” Marco starts walking past Haruta’s chair to the other side of the room, “if they’re going to expect us to sort through every paper, rumor, and possible eyewitness account, they can learn to wait, yoi.” Marco stops at the edge of their carefully laid out paper timeline. Haruta watches their brother carefully scan over their shared work looking for the right place to put the paper before setting it at the end of the snaking trail of evidence.
Standing on their chair now, Haruta looks over Marco's shoulder. The paper he's laid on the floor is folded in such a way as to only leave one article visible.
Drum Island Elects New King: Dalton, former Chief Royal Guard.
The date on the paper and where Marco placed it in the timeline would imply Strawhat went to Drum after Whiskey Peak and possibly Little Garden. Though, it was still unclear if the captain had bypassed Little Garden all together.
Either way, things have been quiet since Strawhat left Whiskey Peak. With so much uncertainty around where the young crews' journey had taken them, Marco and Haruta have resorted to reviewing old papers for missed information while keeping a close eye on the daily news. The story on Drum is the first current article to be added to their winding trail of possible encounters in weeks. A shame, Haruta has been not so secretly - perhaps even openly encouraging - their family's efforts to annoy Marco into flying out to Little Garden. Hopefully, Strawhats potential return will be equally entertaining.
“What makes you think Strawhat has anything to do with Drum's new leader?” Haruta can’t just let Marco get away with not showing his work. First mates and big brothers should be held to a higher standard.
Marco is still scanning over their piecemeal timeline, looking for gaps and hidden truths. “Drum's close enough to Little Garden and Whiskey Peak for the Strawhats to have sailed there just in time for this sudden uprising. That's a pretty big coincidence, yoi." Marco squats down to scan over the article again, making sure to position himself in a way that does not obstruct Haruta's view. "From what I can tell, Wapol’s been abusing his power for years. You’d think if the people of Drum had the manpower and the will to overthrow him, they would have done it before now, yoi. So, why now? This article doesn't just lack detail on how Wapol was defeated but what the catalyst was for his removal.” Marco looks up at Haruta. "Still, I'd like to look deeper, yoi. See if there were any active challenges to the throne before now that could have led to action without outside influence. Heard anything on your end?”
“If the Strawhats were on Drum, either the navy doesn't know or they're keeping exceptionally quiet about it.” Haruta has resettled into their seat, leaning forward with interest to consider the latest addition to their timeline. “Drum’s small and self-sufficient. They don’t have any major exports or important resources as far as the world government is concerned. The Marines aren’t likely to be our best source here. They just don't have enough of a presence or interest in Drum Island.” Drum's smalltime status in the Grandline is well illustrated by the fact that their change of power isn't even a frontpage story, Haruta mentally notes as they continue to scan the page before them.
“You're right, yoi. They probably won't be much help here." Haruta snorts at the word help. The word help seems to imply that the navy had voluntarily supported their investigation in the past instead of had their intel stolen. Marco continues, "But, we have our own contact on Drum."
“Who would ‘we’ be in this case?”
“The crew.”
Haruta levels Marco with an unimpressed stare that rivals the first division commanders’ own. At least, it does in Haruta’s oh so humble opinion. Marco looks up to meet Haruta's gaze with a lazy smirk. Haruta waits for an actual answer to their question. Still smiling, Marco explains, “We traveled to Drum when we were still a fledgling crew, yoi. We made . . .acquaintances with a local Doctor. She’s an incredibly skilled physician. We should still have her den den mushi number, yoi; the nurses reached out a few years ago for help designing a care plan for pops.”
Promising, certainly the most promising lead they’ve had in a while. Well aware of how their most promising leads have previously gone, Haruta asks, “And she’ll help us?”
“Probably not, yoi,” Marco says plainly.
“Well,” Haruta does not linger on Marco’s disappointing answer, “sounds like you have a call to make.”
Notes:
Surprising no one, Dr. Kureha did not help the whitebeards. Between her, Crocus, and Zeff, I would say she was the least helpful. Truly the gaslight (Kureha), gatekeep (Crocus), girlboss (Zeff) trio we deserve or at least the one the whitebeards deserve.
Also, some canon divergence that is not explicitly stated here: Blackbeard did not attack Drum island, so Wapol never ran off to sea. I've mentioned before that blackbeard wasn't really going to be an important part of this story. Generally speaking, the way this universe differs as well as the direction this story is heading, don't benefit from blackbeard's presence. Will he show up eventually as these tales continue, maybe. But his rise (or fall) will be different from canon.
Next comes Arabasta, a two parter.
Chapter 8: Arabasta (Part 1)
Summary:
The whitebeards wait and listen for news
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“What are you doing?” Vista doesn’t bother to direct the question, expecting answers from the room at large.
“Brotherly bonding,” Thatch answers without hesitation. Impressively, there is no doubt in his voice or strain as he digs his heels into the ground and leans back, pulling Rakuyo away from the door by the ends of his hair.
“If this is bonding, then I’m excited for you to bond with Sirius once I get out of here!” Rakuyo doesn’t bother to answer Vista’s question, instead turning as much as the length of his hair - taut in Thatch’s grip - will allow. Getting one hand on Thatch’s shoulder, he pushes his brother back. Force and momentum pull Thatch to the floor. Thatch’s continued grip on Rakuyo’s locks drags him down to join.
Vista spends a second watching the two grapple around before turning an expectant gaze to the room’s last occupant. Namur stands on desk across from the door with a den den mushi pressed protectively to his chest. Vista clears his throat to get the 8th division commander's attention.
“Haruta's doing double duty, taking inventory for two divisions. So, they asked me to keep an eye on their den den.”
Vista takes a theatric look down at Rakuyo’s and Thatch’s continued struggle. “Just you?”
Namur sighs and climbs off the desk. “Just me.” He hugs the walls of the room as he walks over to Vista’s side, den den still secure against his chest. In front of them, Rakuyo makes a rather inspired use of his bandana to tie Thatch’s hands behind is back. Thatch throws his weight up and back to break the pin. Rather than use that same strength to break out of the simple fabric bond, Thatch makes the rather ridiculous decision to dive at Rakuyo, bare his teeth, and bite his ankle.
Vista raises his voice to be heard of Rakuyo’s screams. “I assume Thatch was hoping to get whatever information Haruta has you waiting for.”
Rakuyo’s shouts shift from pained yells to a battle cry as he launches his next attack. The two have yet to move their tumbling struggle off the floor. Namur keeps his voice level as he raises it to respond. “I know Haruta would have kicked him out, but it wasn’t worth the trouble.”
A lesson Rakuyo seems to be learning as Thatch attempts to bite him again. “And what is our 7th division commander doing?” A beat marked by the sound of a slap across Thatch’s face. “Why did he come down here?” Vista clarifies to avoid a commentary on the spectacle in front of them.
“It’s Rakuyo's turn to place our supply order, and he needed Thatch to finish taking inventory of our food supplies.”
Well that explains the mess Vista walked in on. He and Namur continue to watch their brothers’ exaggerated performance enthralled by dance of wide swings and loose pins.
Namur is a good choice to watch the Den Den, Vista notes to himself. Less prone to dramatics than most of their crew at least, a quality not recognized enough for its value aboard the ship.Thatch's impatience and it's resulting antics were more common as they days grew without word on Strawhat.
The tension was only worsened by the fact that they were expecting to hear about Strawhat’s latest adventure any day now. More importantly they were expecting a first hand account thanks to Haruta.
When news of Smoker's reassignment to the Grandline reached the Whitebeards' network, Haruta was quick to have an ally attach surveillance to the captain's ship. It was dangerous and bold, the kind of risk reserved for highly important matters. Pop’s granted the request as his sons argued the growing size of their betting pools and rising interests in Strawhat were important matters in their own right. Vista suspects their father’s agreement had more to do with his want to see his family happy, and Strawhat was a near crew-wide source of merriment. On the other hand, Vista is certain Marco's silence on the demands for an unnecessary risk is because the old bird is sick of thwarting the escape attempts of those who put little stock in his Drum Theory, unconfirmed by their contact or news coo. Although, maybe Vista is wrong; maybe their reasonable 1st division commander didn't stop his family's latest plot because he never heard the request through all the water in his ears. Either way, it would seem the "Fly to Little Garden" movement had worn down their dear first mate.
Smoker had already reported Strawhat was on route to Alabasta (a bolster to Marco's Drum Theory contested more in jest than anything else), requesting reinforcements to block the route to Jaya, while his crew worked to determine the rookie pirate’s whereabouts and intentions. If pattern holds, Strawhat won’t be on Alabasta long without causing a serious, destructive incident.
Vista would hope the tenacious marine captain has a plan in place to take a picture of Strawhat. Although he’s worried Smoker may be on a single minded hunt with the intention of catching the captain himself, considering the marine followed the rookie to Paradise. That kind of focus can be as limiting as it is powerful.
With Strawhat running amok in a warlord’s territory, Vista supposes they should be happy with any information Smoker, unknowingly, gives them.
“Hey Vista,” lost in his own thought and anticipation, Vista hadn’t noticed Namur break his attention away from Thatch and Rakuyo’s fight to carefully consider the 5th division commander, “what are you doing down here?”
A fair question. Namur really is a good choice to watch Haruta’s den den, and he has every right to be suspicious of any wandering brothers’ intentions. Afterall, Namur is one of the few division heads to abstain from the commander-only betting pool. However, Vista isn't willing to risk the consequences of stealing Haruta's spotlight. The fifth division keeps eye contact with Namur as they both take a step back from each other, clearing the path for Rakuyo to throw Thatch through the open door.
“Well-” Rakuyo rushes between them toward Thatch, mustache sticking out at odd angles, sans headband, and fist raised. Namur watches their brother go, the weary pinch to his face previously directed at Vista remains firmly in place. Vista clears his throat to catch Namur’s attention, and motions with his head to the adjacent wall. Namur nods, and they move together away from the door.
A timely choice since Rakuyo comes through failing a moment later after being rushed by Thatch.
“Well,” Vista starts again assuming the same spectating position as before, “I needed to give the supply list for my division to Rakuyo.”
The great leader of the seventh division has Thatch seized by the pompadour.
“Right,” Namur says, thoroughly unimpressed with their fool brothers.
Ca-Lick
With one sound, the den den cradled in Namur’s arms puts the room on pause. Vista doesn’t even take a breath. Frozen to the spot, gaze still forward, the fifth division commander is able to watch Thatch’s face break into a victorious smile.
“This is Navy Headquarters. Is this Captain Smoker?” A deep, steady voice fills the room.
“Speaking,” is the (seeming) Captain’s, gruff response.
Vista can’t help a small smile as well. He may not be as heavy handed as some of his brothers, but far be it from him to not take advantage of the situation, especially when Thatch is here to take the fall with Haruta.
Notes:
A year?! 50,000?!
Story note: Sirius is the name I have given Rakuyo's weapon in reference to his epithet in Treasure Cruise, "Morning Star Rakuyo." Sirius is the brightest star in the night sky, and part of the Canis Major or Greater Dog constellation, fitting the loyal weapons animal like appearance.
Well, anyway, hi. I've had less time with work and I also sadly, unexpectedly lost access to an account that held most of my writing. That aside, as I've said before, I do always plan to come back to this story. Coming back now, it's insane to see how many people have read some part of this story. Incomprehensible even. I really want to thank anyone that has stuck with it and special thanks to those who take the time to comment. In fact, a series of comments in January helped draw me back in to this work.
Hope all of you are as well as can be. <3