Chapter 1: First Meeting (Year 0, Week 0, Day 1)

Fate certainly had a special way of utterly and unquestionably fucking you over when you least expected or needed it to.

At least, that was what she thought to herself bitterly as she resigned herself and took a fighting stance.

"I don't suppose that there's any chance convincing you that I'm not worth your time, is there?" she asked halfheartedly.

"No, there's really not," the tall man chuckled quietly, his stance lazily shifting to match hers, that god-damned creepy smile fixed on his face; the bastard probably did it on purpose, she thought.

The two faced each other, neither moving, not even seeming to breathe. Finally, he surged forward, a powerful fist raised, a look of grim amusement and determination on his face.

She was not a strong fighter. She never had been and she was probably right to believe she never would be. How then had she survived on Grand Line for so many years, you might ask.

Well, the fact that she could be quick on her feet might have contributed to this, but only slightly.

It was mostly by sheer dumb luck and well-placed clumsiness that she had ever made it this far.

Unfortunately, it was these same things that often landed her in unfavorable situations.

Such as the one she was in at that exact moment.

How had this happened? Well, she knew how it happened, she just didn't understand why it happened to her.

It wasn't her fault that she had landed her Aero Ship on top of that Marine Captain that morning. Who the hell slept on top of roofs anyway?

It wasn't her fault that he had been furious with her and demanded compensation for his medical bills. Who the hell needed medical attention for a couple of bruises anyway? She did feel bad, but it wasn't like she had caused irreparable damage.

It wasn't her fault that the little incident had her running small errands for the island's Marines for the day.

It wasn't her fault that the Marines had been impractical and built two separate bases on opposite sides of the town, making communication more difficult and constantly reliant on people to run back and forth between them, a job which she had temporarily been given.

It wasn't her fault that there was a larger gap than she initially anticipated in between the buildings she was running over.

It wasn't her fault that she fell down onto the pedestrians walking below in the streets.

And it certainly wasn't her fault that she had landed on the head of a Whitebeard commander, knocking him out.

Not her fault at all.

Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, Thatch, had not been having a splendid day. His crew had taken it upon themselves to thoroughly party well into the small hours of morning—all he could remember of the celebration was a blur of music, booze, several attractive local women, and something about a drinking contest. He was pretty sure he had won, looking back on his collection of scattered, fuzzy memories of a couple hours ago, trying to piece them together. He certainly didn't feel like a winner at that moment, clutching his head as he stepped out of the inn a few of his crewmates had crashed at, onto the mid-day bustle of the streets.

He was greeted by his 'brothers', Marco and Jozu, of the First and Third Divisions respectively. Marco smirked at Thatch's unkempt hair and blurry eyes.

"Save me the smug look, I'm not in the mood," Thatch groaned, his hand once again at his forehead. His own voice caused his brain to protest sharply. The busy noises of the city weren't helping much.

"Not my fault you can't handle your drink," his friend jabbed at him.

"I don't need your sass, Mr. I-Can't-Even-Get-Drunk. Not all of us can heal our bodies instantly."

"You look like you could use some food," Jozu said, slowly, as if he thought over each word carefully before speaking, like always.

"Thank you," Thatch said as if he were making a point, "Marco, why can't you be more like Jozu? He's so much more considerate and charitable. A true gentleman if I ever saw."

"I never claimed to be a gentleman, yoi."

"Well, that is apparent. Jozu, my fine sir, I grow tired of the less civilized company. Let us adjourn ourselves to the nearest eating establishment away from this uncouth youth where we shall partake in something greasy and good for ridding hangovers."

Thatch was set to do just as he proclaimed, but he was stopped by several things.

The first, was a scream.

Looking around, he tried to locate the source, but the hang-over induced haze on his mind was inhibiting his mental functions at the moment.

Second, came a yell.

"Move! Move out of the way!"

Again, he wasn't quite functioning at 100%, he was still trying to find out where the yell came from.

When he finally looked to his friends and saw that they were looking up at the sky, he followed their gazes.

Right as a pair of feet landed in his face.

He was out like a light, hitting the ground in a solid whump!, while Marco and Jozu stared on in bewilderment.

A figure landed on top of Thatch's chest, a wave of pale violet hair falling around them…on top of which sat a hat reading 'Marine'.

"Owww, my butt," they groaned. The Marine gave a quick look around and then seemed to realize where they were.

"Oh my god!" they scrambled up off of the prone pirate; it was a girl, carrying an overloaded messenger bag, wearing a short shirt with the Marine's logo on it and a cap that looked too big for her head under which two heavy braids fell, "Oh geez, I'm sorry, didn't mean to…"

Her voice trailed off when she noticed the stares of the two pirates. Red eyes widened: the men looking at her wore expressions promising several degrees of murder.

Time crunched to a resounding halt as the three stared at each other.

"Oi, girlie."

The purple-haired girl let out a quiet squeak. The one who had addressed her, the shorter of the two, spoke in a terrifying voice—rage thinly concealed by a calm.

"Um, how can I help you?" she asked tentatively; manners were always a must after all.

"That's our friend you landed on."

Oh god, was the only thought she had time for and then the man was lunging at her, a hand raised, and were those flames surrounding his fists?!

She hurried to back up, to avoid the force of rage bearing down on her, and in her usual stroke of luck, she slipped on a letter that had fallen out of her overflowing bag. She fell backwards as the furious man's knuckles barely missed her nose, she could feel the heat of the curious blue flames flickering around his skin and let out another squeak.

He looked surprised that she had dodged his hit, but that was nothing compared to the look on his face when her feet connected with him. You see, her legs had been thrust upwards in her fall, something which she had zero control over as she continued to fall backwards, and his advance had put him right in their path. Her feet hit his shins, knocking him off balance and she landed once again on her backside.

A staggering silence followed as he corrected his stumble and she sat there petrified.

"That," he said slowly, painfully slowly and in an oh-so-deadly tone," was a very big mistake."

She did not think. She did not bother to think as all her instincts screamed at her to run away and to run away now. So, she did not hesitate. Before the man could make another move, she was gone, sprinting down the street, scurrying up the side of a building, and fleeing across the roofs, leaving the pirates in stunned silence.

She did not stop running until she reached the Marine base and had burst through its doors, a trail of paper fluttering in after her. Several startled Marines let out yelps as she tried to catch her breath, leaning over her legs and wheezing.

"Hey! What's the big deal?" a Marine Captain strolled up to her, having been drawn to the commotion.

"I…just got attacked…by this crazy person," she panted.

"What? Who was it?" the Captain looked down at her in concern.

"Some…werido with spiky blond hair…he had some tattoo on his chest…and his hands were on fire…"

"Sir!" Another information runner like her burst through the door. Most of the runners were young boys: Marines-in-training, chore boys, apprentices and the like. "Sir, we've just found out that the Whitebeard Pirates have docked at this island, sometime late last night! Their shipped is docked at the other port, but there have been sightings of some crewmembers in town!"

Everyone in the room was as rigid as statues.

The purple-haired girl looked in horror at her fellow runner, putting some things together in her mind.

That tattoo on that guy's chest had been awfully familiar.

"I…" All of the Marines looked at her, the first one to break the silence, "I…um, I may have…well, accidentally knocked out…one of Whitebeard's pirates…"

They flew into a frenzy. She and the other runner were swept off to the side as the Marines geared into action, preparing to move out. Amidst the chaos, they sat back, watching the commotion.

"Did you really beat up one of the Whitebeards?" the young boy next to her asked. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, with his awkward arms and legs and baby-chubbed face.

"Um, I wouldn't say beat up…it was more that he was in the wrong place when I jumped down from the roof," she mumbled, pulling the too-big hat lower over her eyes. She wanted this day to end so that she could go on with her life and pretend it never happened.

"A 'death-from-above' attack?" the younger boy said in awe, looking at her with starry eyes, "So cool!"

She didn't say anything, just nodded and fell into silence. There was probably nothing she could say to this kid to make him understand that it had been a complete accident followed by pure luck that she was still alive.

Her silence did nothing to deter the boy from chattering away.

"You must be really strong to take on a Whitebeard! I can't wait 'til I'm big and strong enough to face pirates, they won't know what hit 'em!" He swung an imaginary sword in a mock battle, "I'll be the strongest Marine on Grand Line, and I'll be an Admiral before you know it!'

She smiled weakly, still feeling faint from her encounter. And all the running.

There had only been a few times she had near-death experiences, and meeting them wasn't exactly something she liked to make a habit of. However, none of those brushes with death had involved other humans—they were mostly incidences with Mother Nature and a result of her own clumsiness. She had never met someone that she was so sure was going to kill her and had every capability to do so. The way that he had looked at her…she shivered in fear. It was very clear that he fell under both of those categories.

Right then and there, she decided that it was in her best interest to leave this island behind.

Effective immediately.

Without another thought, she slipped away unnoticed from the chaos that was the Marine base and started her trek across the city, once again, this time back to her Aero Ship. She had stayed long enough on the island that her Log Pose had set in the couple hours it took. Her food supplies were running low because she hadn't had time to restock, running all over the town, but she would gladly take a few skimpy meals over meeting up with infamous pirates again. In any case, she would take death by starvation over brutal murder, which another encounter with the pirates was sure to end in.

The city-wide alarm went off and she heard cannons in the distance, reaffirming her decision to leave. Taking to the building tops once more, she swiftly made her way to her Ship, which was being held at the other Marine base. It was so close now, just a couple of roof tops away, a hop, skip, and a jump and she'd be out of there.

Just after this building, jump down, start her up and then it's smooth sailing. Well, as smooth as sailing can get on these oceans, she thought to herself. She peered over the ledge and there it was, her Aero Ship, the Tweet-Cheep Aeronaut, affectionately named Tweety Bird, or simply Tweety. She gave a satisfactory huff, glad that the Marines appeared to have left her transport vehicle alone.

Just as she prepared to leap down to the Bird, something landed behind her heavily. She froze as a gust of wind pulled at her braids.

'Please don't be who I think it is,' she prayed, but deep down, she knew who was going to be behind her when she turned around, judging by her luck. She gave a sigh, this time in resignation. Might as well get this over with.

She straightened with the resolve to make it through whatever came next with a calm and collected demeanor (and most importantly, with her life) and slowly turned to face who she knew it would be: the man from earlier, the man she had pissed off by accident, and who was apparently part of one of the strongest pirate crews the seas had ever known.

He was watching her, smiling.

And it was creepy as hell.

'Calm and collected, calm and collected.'

"Why'd you run off so quickly, girlie? We were having so much fun, yoi," he said. His laid back, hands-in-the-pockets stance did not help her already severely shaken state of mind.

'Calm and collected, calm and collected.'

"Ah, I was running late for an errand. I hope you'll excuse my rudeness earlier, as well as the, um…ahem, accident, I caused with your friend," she said ever-so-politely; there was no way in all of Grand Line she would ever try to smart-ass her way out of this, "And I hope you will excuse me again, but I find I have other engagements. That are far away from here. That I have to get to. Right now."

His menacing chuckle sent a shiver of fear down her back, but she was determined not to show just how terrified and close to a panic attack she was at the moment.

'Calm and collected, calm and collected,' she chanted over and over.

"I'm sure they can wait, Marine. I think your buddies won't miss you for a few moments."

She looked at him in confusion, her carefully neutral mask forgotten.

"Marine…?" she asked, "What are you talking about, I'm not a Marine…Oh. Oh."

She looked in horror down at the shirt she had been given to wear as she ran errands. She felt her hat and a terrible sense of dread washing over her.

"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't a Marine?" she asked, hoping beyond hope that he would.

He laughed again, answering her question with his menacing chuckle.

"Right," she mumbled miserably, "I suppose not."

"So, tell me, Miss Marine, why you thought it was a good idea to attack the Whitebeard Pirates? Are you that confident in your fighting abilities, yoi?" he asked casually, as if they were acquaintances that hadn't seen each other for a while, small talking about the weather.

"Nope, I don't have an ounce of confidence in that area. Completely weak, wouldn't stand a chance against a kitten. No, make that a blind kitten. Definitely not worth your time." There was no use lying; any attempt to convince him of her strength so that he would back down was very likely the stupidest thing anyone and their mother could do.

However, her admittance to her lack of strength seemed to have the opposite desired effect; he raised his eyebrow in challenge, interest sparking in his eyes. That wasn't good.

That was so many levels of not good.

'Calm and collected,' she reminded herself, a hint of panic in her mind's voice.

"How very interesting," he was leaning slightly forward now, "And yet you were able to book it so quickly over the rooftops. That has to require some strength."

"The art of running away is very different from combat," she responded with a serene aloofness that she did not feel. She was struggling to keep a level head; his gaze was unnerving and that was putting it lightly. Her attempts to avoid piquing his interest seemed to be failing.

"Is it now," he said quietly, rhetorically, "One more question before we get past all these pleasantries. What is your name, yoi?"

'Calm and collected, calm and collected.'

"I believe it's customary to give your own name first when asking for someone's." She was stalling for time, they both knew it, but he went along with it, amusement dancing across his face.

"My name is Marco," he said simply, but there was a note of pride in his voice. Not the vain kind, the kind that was full of well-deserved dignity. He waited for her response.

"My name is Mari. Mari Currie," she bowed formally; not like manners could hurt her at this point. She gave a last ditch effort to get out of this situation, "I do sincerely apologize for hurting your friend. Please know that it was an unfortunate accident."

She faced him, squaring her shoulders. She was going to survive this. Death did not exactly frighten her, but she wasn't too keen to accept its embrace this early on in her journey. And so, she was going to make it out of this encounter alive. There was no other option for her.

Marco noted the shift and finally became serious, the smile slipping away to a set line.

She wondered how she had gotten herself into this situation. Fate, she decided after a moment, was a bitch like that.

She resignedly took a fighting stance.

"I don't suppose that there's any chance convincing you that I'm not worth your time, is there?" she asked half-heartedly.

"No, there's really not," the tall blond chuckled quietly, his stance lazily shifting to match hers, that god-damned creepy smile back on his face; the bastard probably did it on purpose, she thought.

The two faced each other, neither moving, not even seeming to breathe. Finally, he surged forward, a powerful fist raised, a mix of grim amusement and determination on his face.

She moved as quickly as she could, dodging his punch and darting around him. But he was fast, too. He never let her get behind him, spinning to face her and jumping away simultaneously. The blue flames were back, licking up the entirety of his arms and broad shoulders now. She spared half a second to wonder what caused them. What were they? How did he not get burned? What was their source? But, the half second passed and she refocused.

'Right, trying not to die here.'

They faced off again, on opposite sides than where they started.

"Is that how you fight? Duck and dodge, never have the guts to throw a punch?" Marco taunted, clearly trying to get a rise out of her.

It worked. Her eyebrows came down in anger and she rushed forward; he grinned that stupid, creepy smile at his success and ran to meet her, ready to get down to the real fight. She prepared to strike him and he prepared to defend himself. He could feel the power and intent she was putting into this punch and he smiled, excited to see just how strong this Marine was. What he didn't expect was for her to dive straight between his legs, slide on the ground, roll, and bounce back up to continue running for the ledge of the building.

Furious at himself for not catching her and falling for her feint, but also that she was trying to run away from a fight, he pursued her. No way was she getting away this time, not now that he knew how fast she could escape over the buildings.

He leapt off the roof and landed solidly on the one below, touching down before shooting off, intent to catch the person sprinting across the tiles. He didn't anticipate that she would be running alongside a sort of metal contraption that looked vaguely like a kayak on wheels. Wondering what on earth was going on, he doubled his speed, his flames starting to take over his arms and become fiery wings. The girl looked behind her and let out one of the small squeaks he had heard earlier, her eyes wide and he smirked. The end of the roof was quickly approaching.

There was no way she could carry that heavy metal thing and land safely on the ground. Marco's feet lifted from the tiled roof as his wings caught the air. He was approaching fast. He was going to make it.

But then, she leaped gracefully into it, a quick arc before she was seated as it continued to roll across the roof, he heard a some sort of engine start over the rush of the wind in his ears, and wing-like protuberances popped out of the sides and it started gaining height.

He faltered, bewildered at the strange thing that was shooting into the air, his prey safely seated in it. He shook himself—if he didn't move now, he was going to lose her. This wasn't time to idle and gawk.

But, as he shot after her, it became very clear that his chances of gaining on her were very slim before she reached the ocean, where he would be vulnerable. Whatever that contraption was, it was fast. He ground to a halt mid-air and watched as the purple-haired girl put distance between them, bitter disappointment burning in his chest.

She looked back to see what the pirate was doing. She was usually safe in the air, but if he had any firearms on him, she might not be in the clear.

However, when she looked back and saw that he was in the air as well, held up by what looked like wings made of that blue fire, she choked on her spit in shock. People didn't have wings and nor were they able to fly.

"What the hell!? How are you doing that!?" she yelled back at him, startled, but wasn't expecting an answer.

It was only then that she noticed that he was a ways back, hovering in the air, large blue wings keeping him airborne. He wasn't pursuing. Almost not believing it, she stared for a few more seconds. But hey, she wasn't one to question her luck. She was alive and that was all that mattered.

Glad to put this island far, far behind her, she sped her Aero Ship forward towards the already sinking sun.

She never wanted to do something like that again. Pirates, Marines, they could fight and squabble all they wanted, she just wanted to travel and not get caught in the cross fire.

But, fortunately, with the rapidly receding island behind her, she wouldn't ever have to deal with them again.

Author's Corner: Hey-a! Well, here we have it the second story! Marco ended up winning against Shanks in the polls (which is now closed, but thanks to everyone who participated!). Plans for this story: If you're expecting another CotC, please expect to be disappointed. This is going to be much, much shorter (maybe 20-30 chapters, idk, that's what I have mapped out so far, but they'll be longer) and updates will be much less frequent (I'm going to try for once every week, because I'm putting a lot more editing into this work). Regardless, I'm still excited to share this story with you! I've had it in the works for a couple years now, like all my stories, and I'm so glad I have time to really work on it now! Please look forward to more!

-jj