Work Text:
„Hey, Marco? You’re needed at the stern gallery.”
The weather had gotten worse since they left Wano about a week ago where they had acquired five new passengers. It wasn’t raining yet, but the oncoming storm disturbed the sea, letting big waves crash against the bow of the Moby Dick, making the huge ship sway.
Marco jumped down from his place on the foretop spar, flapping his blue wings once to slow his fall. He turned and walked along the railing on the starboard side of the ship to the main hatch and went below deck. The new passengers had been assigned two cabins close to the captain’s quarters – one for the men (and the cat and the dog) and one for the lady. Oden had quickly assimilated to the rest of the Whitebeard pirates, who usually slept in whichever hammock was free, and so had the cat and the dog. Only Toki and the young retainer had accepted the small cabins.
It was the young samurai who was leaning over the railing at the gallery now. They had only talked a little since their arrival, but it turned out they were the same age, and Pops had very subtly encouraged Marco to talk to him a few days ago.
“Sea sick, huh? First time on a ship-yoi?”
Izou lifted his head. Even paler than with his usual make-up, his normally perfect kiss-shaped lipstick was smeared. His sculpted eyebrows pulled together in a frown and Marco wanted to slap a hand over his own face. Of course it was his first time on a ship, their new passengers were the first to leave Wano in a long time.
“Did you bring me herbal tea?” His question sounded as sarcastic as a sick and well-mannered samurai could muster.
Marco stopped. “Uhm, no... do you want some? I can get you some...”
The samurai laughed quietly. “Don’t trouble yourself. I would just-“, he motioned towards the water.
“That’s why I’m here. I’m a doctor in training, because of the devil fruit I ate but also because I want to help people-yoi.”
“You can fly... but also heal people?”
“Yes, I’m a phoenix!” He conjured a little flame in his palm and tried to send it out to the boy in front of him. It wouldn’t budge. He took a step forward and concentrated harder. Marco had worked on his control of his devil fruit since he ate it, and he could heal himself without trouble, but he had only recently started to practise to give the flame to other people.
The ship suddenly dropped into a deep valley between waves and the samurai spun around and collapsed back over the railing. When he righted himself, a few strands of his raven-black hair had come loose from his elaborate hairstyle. He wiped his lips with a cloth, smudging the red lipstick even further.
Marco concentrated hard, trying to force the flame to leave his palm and fly the distance between them, but it refused. Why didn’t it work? Afraid to look like an idiot who furiously stared at his own burning hand, he took two steps towards Izou and stopped behind him. He reached around, slipped his hand under the low, V-shaped opening of the kimono and lay his hand over the young man’s sternum. He let the flame sink through his skin, sneak between his ribs and wrap his stomach in a calming warmth.
Izou froze for just a second in Marco’s hold, before he could feel the samurai start to relax again. He even took a small step back and almost leaned his back against the young doctor in training. The nausea must be better already.
“Feels nice and warm, Marco.” Izou inclined his head towards him, looking at him with dark brown eyes under long eyelashes and Marco suddenly realized how close to him he was. He could smell the sweet perfume in his long hair and feel the warmth of the other body. Shit, he never intended to grab him like that! He blushed and quickly pulled his hand back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-“
Izou clicked his tongue. “I was trained as a dancer before I was a samurai. I have no problem getting men off of me if I need to.”
Marco paused. It was probably a very bad idea to ask what he meant by that. At least until they knew each other better. What was he talking about? Anger flared up in him when he thought about men bothering a boy as pretty as Izou.
Luckily, the young samurai stopped Marco’s thoughts before he spiralled. “You have your father’s hair. Will you grow as tall as him?”
Marco paused, then laughed. “Oh?! No, Pops isn’t our biological father. He took all of us in though. Most of us are orphans or people who have no other family-yoi.”
A small smile of recognition sneaked on the face of the young samurai. “I see. Sounds like we have something in common.”
The only thing Marco could think about was how he could see that pretty smile more often.