Chapter 15

Nothing lasts forever and eventually the party wound down. He said his goodbyes and set sail on his newly-named ship, more relaxed than he'd been in a long time.

A week later, the pleasant buzz of spending time with a friend was gone because aside from that first day, it seemed like some higher power had it out for him. He sighed, pulling his bandana from his head and wringing it out as the sudden storm he'd been caught in disappated. He brushed back his soaking wet hair, grumbling as he wrung it out and a small lake's worth of water poured onto the deck. This was the seventeenth such storm he'd encountered since he left the island, and by the third one he'd wound up figuring out the Paper Arts through sheer self-preservation. New World storms were not to be messed with.

Putting his bandana back on, he scanned his surroundings with a careful eye. There were three islands visible in the distance, which he was fairly certain weren't supposed to be there. He checked the Log Pose, clicking his tongue in annoyance; the storm had blown him majorly off course. He tried to remember if any of his maps mentioned a trio of islands close together and came up blank. Hmm, should he or shouldn't he?

A moment's thought and threatening rumble from the sky was all it took for him to sigh. Patting the railing, he said aloud, "Fine, I can take a hint. Looks like it's time for a break, Coddi." Several boards creaked - as if in agreement - and he headed to the wheel to steer them towards the nearest island.

It turns out that the three islands were populated by cannibal berserkers.

He really wished he was joking.

Friendly and welcoming on the surface, he knew something was up when he was reminded of the Straw Hats' welcome on Whiskey Peak in the future. Honestly, he thought they were just planning to rob him. They invited him to a welcoming feast for guests, and he agreed so he didn't have to fight anyone while he was still soaked from the storm. He left the Coddiwomple anchored offshore and followed the people back to their village. Mental alarms started blaring when the daughter of the tribal chief of the island he'd landed on pressed herself against his side and hissed in his ear, "Run!"

Confused, he didn't have time to react before the food was served, the meat dishes putting out a disgustingly familiar scent. Feeling sick as certain pieces began to click into place, certain comments the villagers made abruptly began taking on a more sinister meaning. When the tribal chief frowned and asked why he was only eating the fruit dishes, he patted his stomach and lied through his teeth, "Can't eat meat, sorry to say. Messes me up something awful."

The tribal chief frowned some more but accepted his excuse and turned back to watch a bunch of villagers dancing.

Mentally, Marshall sighed in relief. Saved by his bluffing skills.

He did drink a lot of the local alcohol, unfortunately he couldn't get out of that, but his insane tolerance served him well and even with the drugs added to the liquor he just stumbled a little when he walked, his haki making up for the double-vision. He really didn't like the way the chief and villagers were looking at him...

That was when the tribal chief's daughter caught him trying to slip away and instead of ratting him out, she grabbed his arm and tugged him after her into the shadows of the forest. Fifteen minutes later, she stopped and whipped around to face him. "You need to run!" She hissed desperately, "I don't know why the drugs didn't work, but you need to take this chance to escape!"

He blinked, taking longer than usual to absorb that because, "I thought you were dragging me out here to kill me," he admitted.

"No! I'm trying to save you!" She glared, "You have no idea what happens on this island when outsiders come!" She still had a hold on his wrist, and he felt her grip tighten. It was like a dam burst and her words came pouring out, the entire sordid history of the three islands. "There are three tribes, one on each island. The people used to be normal once, but over the years they changed, becoming more monstrous in order to survive. How monstrous was only revealed when one year a plague swept through the islands, wiping out almost all the animals. That same year a drought caused the fruit trees to wilt. The tribes nearly died out...and it would have been better if they had!" Tears of hopelessness and despair glittered in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Somehow, he had the feeling that she was used to holding back tears.

While she spoke, he took a long look at her. Like the rest of her tribe, she had long, wild dark red hair like a lion's mane. Her eyes were a bright, toxic yellow (poisonous gold, he thought), almost glowing against the backdrop of her darkly tanned skin. She was of average height, five to five and a half feet tall, somewhere in that area. Busty and curvaceous, he saw what she meant about her people becoming monstrous - her fingers were tipped in claws, and when she spoke he caught glimpses of fangs. Not like vampire fangs, full on beast fangs. Since she was barefoot, wearing only a fur bikini top and wrap-around skirt, he could see that she had claws on her toes as well.

'Wildly attractive' would be a good way to describe her, he thought, listening as she told the story of how her people had slowly turned to cannibalism to survive and then just never stopped when the famine was over. "The strong eat and the weak are meat," she muttered, the words carrying the tone of something oft repeated. He could hear the pain buried in her voice and huh, it turned out she was actually a decent person.

"What's your name?" He asked abruptly, now pretty much sober. He smiled when her head shot up and she stared at him in stunned surprise.

"...Vertara. It means 'ferocious' in the ancient language." She answered.

"Nice to meet you, Vertara. My name is Marshall D. Teach. You can call me Marshall." He grinned down at her. "Hey, while you're showing me how to get around the sentries keeping an eye on my ship, how about I show you something cool?..."

And that's how he wound up teaching a cannibal princess how to use Armament Haki.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned once they got to the small cove he was supposed to swim out of the get to his ship. Her father was waiting there with the rest of her tribe, and the two of them were surrounded.

"I'm disappointed in you, Vertara." The tribal chief rumbled, "I thought you would have grown out of this phase by now. It isn't good to play with your food."

"They aren't food!" Vertara exclaimed, glaring at her father, "They're people! People we tricked and murdered and I am sick and tired of it!" Taking a deep breath, she yelled out, back straight and head held proudly, "I challenge you to Mon-ar-draclel!"

The gathered tribe gasped, recoiling as her father stiffened. Stone would have been softer than his face at that moment.

Marshall watched the reactions and leaned over to ask, "Um, what is a-?"

Vertara muttered back, the tribe whispering furiously around them, "A trial by combat and challenge for leadership rolled into one." Then she added nonchalantly, "It's also a fight to the death." Judging from the eager look in her eyes, she had no problem with killing her father.

Okay then.

The death-match happened, and of course the people trying to kill them didn't play fair. Vertara lived up to her name; she had her dad on the ropes when the first knife was thrown at her back...and promptly caught before it got halfway to its target, much to the watchers' shock.

Marshall turned the knife in his hand, examining it critically. Good balance, decent workmanship..."Hey Vertara, mind if I keep this?" He called out, waving the knife in the air to show what he meant, and she made an affirmative sounding roar in response. The fight was less a fight than two beasts ripping each other to shreds, but it was easy to see that Vertara had the upper hand. The chief was covered in wounds and bleeding profusely, and Marshall was stopping any attempts the tribe made to help their leader. Desperation was clear on the older man's face, which abruptly contorted in a savage snarl.

A thunderous roar rang out, echoed by the chief's supporters as Vertara's father went berserk, abandoning all defense to focus only on ripping his daughter to pieces. He didn't seem to feel pain anymore, no matter how much Vertara clawed and bit and tore at him. Finally, Vertara went in for the kill, teeth and claws gleaming black as she used the Armament he taught her to latch onto her father's throat and pull.

Much to the tribe's horror and Vertara's elation, blood gushed out of the wound like a waterfall. The white of the chief's spine was visible as he slowly toppled over, the madness on his face fading into shock.

Vertara threw her head back and roared in victory, the few injuries her father had given her after going berserk bleeding steadily but not seeming to slow her down. Sadly she didn't get to enjoy her triumph for long, the dead chief's supporters screaming in fury as they too went berserk. Apparently they didn't take the loss well.

Seeing the resigned look on Vertara's face, he decided it was about time he stepped in besides making sure everyone played fair. He patted Vertara on the head and said, "Relax, I'll handle this," as he moved to meet the first cannibal to lunge at them.

Vertara watched with wide-eyes as Marshall fought her tribesmen. Not one attacker got passed him, and before half an hour was up, the cove was painted red with blood.

"Incredible," she breathed as the last of her tribe fell, feeling the beginnings of hope stir in her chest.

Since all of the cannibals on the island sans Vertara (who took a few bites of her father and then spit it out, which was apparently the most insulting gesture one could make in her culture), Marshall decided to head back to the village after engaging in the time-honored tradition of looting the bodies. Not that they had a lot on them besides some more knives and some jewelry made of an intriguing red-and-white marbled gem that could probably sell for a lot.

"You can escape now, so why would you want to go back?" Vertara asked after confirming that all of her tribe were dead, confirming that even the sentries who'd been watching his ship were among the bodies.

"Because now that everyone's dead, we can take anything we want and no one will know." He explained.

Silence.

"I'll show you where the treasury is!"

"What's this stone called?" He asked, holding up a necklace with a pendant made of the red and white gem.

"My people consider it the blood and bones of the island and wear it for protection," Vertara explained, nearly bouncing with glee as she snickered, "Not that it helped them much."

He hummed. "An interesting story. If we leave out the fact that they were found on an island of cannibals, they can probably be sold for a lot."

Vertara shrugged, "I wouldn't know. Anyway, we're here." She gestured to a low building, pushing open the door to reveal a staircase leading down. "Down here's where we keep the things taken from other outsiders and anything important to the tribe," she explained. "The Island's Blood gems come from a mine on the opposite side of the island, if you wanted to see it."

"Maybe later," he waved off, following Vertara into a large cellar. Crates and treasure chests were piled almost to the ceiling, filling the room and leaving very little room to move around. Eyebrows raised, one hand holding his chin, he stated flatly. "We're going to have to move all this stuff outside before we can find out what's in here, aren't we." It wasn't a question.

"Uh huh," Vertara agreed, "This place hasn't been cleaned since my nine times great grandfather's time. Not even my father knew what all was in here."

He sighed, "Well I suppose we should get started then," he declared.

It was almost noon by the time they had the contents of the treasury above ground. He lost count of how many trips it took to move the stuff; Vertara was strong, but she could still only carry one crate at a time.

Before they cracked open the first crate, he took the time to clean and bandage her injuries from the fight. She seemed a bit confused as to why he bothered but humored him. After that was done, he grabbed hold of the lid of a crate and pulled it open with one hand. It was filled with pottery, early North Blue style and at least four hundred years old if he wasn't mistaken. A few were cracked, but the majority of it was intact and thus incredibly valuable collectors items.

The next few crates yielded more of the same, pottery and cookware from different seas and eras, but then they found some rugs that had unfortunately hadn't withstood the test of time. The fabric crumbled into dust as soon as he opened the lid. A shame, but he shrugged it off. A dozen more crates wound up containing nothing more than dust when the contents crumbled, but there were some very nice picture frames he was able to salvage, the paintings themselves going the way of the fabric in previous boxes.

Vertara took inventory as they worked their way through the chests and boxes, writing down the items and quantities he announced in a journal bound in soft leather that he highly suspected was human skin.

One of the boxes was better sealed than others, and when he opened it he was treated to the sight of almost a hundred, slightly worn and brittle but still recognizable, books. He picked one up and squinted at the cover, "Myths and Legends of South Blue volume 5," he read out, gently opening the cover and seeing the title page and, more importantly, the publishing date. "Oh hell," he breathed.

This book was from the damned Void Century. All of the books in that box were, he saw as he carefully pulled them out one after another, reading off the titles and checking the publishing date to be sure.

"Something wrong?" Vertara asked, looking up from jotting down the last book title.

It didn't even take a second before he reached a decision about what to do with the find before him. It wasn't a hard choice.

"No, I was just surprised these books are still readable, considering how long they were down there." He answered, putting the books back into the box they came from.

Call him a coward if you wanted, but he made his decision. Maybe he'd find a way to send them to Nico Robin once she joined the Straw Hats, but until then he was content with pretending he never found the things. The World Government committed genocide for less, and he wasn't yet strong enough to take them on.

He did, however, move the box to the 'take' side.

Miraculously, they were almost halfway done with looking through the boxes by the time night fell. He called for a break to eat dinner, which consisted solely of fruit for both of them, and afterwards decided to bring his ship closer to shore so it wouldn't take as long getting his recent loot onboard. Vertara went with him, curious about what it was like onboard an actual ship.

While she looked around in awe and excitement, he raised the anchor and brought them as close to shore as he could without running aground. Vertara watched the process, bouncing on her toes and almost giddy as she watched the ship approach the shore. He dropped anchor when he judged them as close as they could get, patting the wheel fondly as he stepped away and went over to Vertara. "Since it's getting dark, I suggest we put off the rest of the sorting and moving the loot onboard until it's light out. Less likely to miss something that way." He said.

"You mean you don't see in the dark like me?" Vertara asked in confusion, and when he shook his head and muttered 'not exactly' it was like a light went off in her mind. "Oooooooh, that explains a lot," she nodded sagely.

He decided it was probably best not to ask.

Once Vertara was comfortably settled in a spare room and gleefully rolling around on the furs/blankets he gave her, he retreated to his quarters and pretty much collapsed. He passed out for the rest of the night and it was the best sleep he had in a week.

Waking up the next morning to finding a female body tucked against his side wasn't anything new or particularly alarming, but he was rather confused for a minute since Rouge wasn't anywhere nearby-

A glimpse of dark red hair and the mystery was solved. He looked blankly up at the ceiling, blinking slowly before his mind caught up with reality and ah, he should probably get up, shouldn't he? Slipping out of Vertara's hold, he staggered to the bathroom and completed his morning routine, rinsing his razor and putting it away before he fully woke up. Yawning, he walked into his quarters to see Vertara awake, showing no signs of sleepiness as she poked curiously at the chests from Orango that she'd uncovered.

"What's in here?" She asked.

"I have no idea," he answered honestly, and decided that now was as good a time as any. "Want to find out?"

"Yes!" Vertara perked up, watching as he crouched down next to her and proceeded to open the first chest. What was revealed made her breath catch in her chest, a dazzling display of gold and silver and crimson rubies. The riches made her eyes light up, and he was rather impressed himself. That one chest alone was worth being called treasure, he thought, grinning as he reached out and grabbed a coin, examining it closely. The gold was real, he judged, and was even more thankful to Annie for making sure he took half the chests. He didn't know precisely how much was in the chest, but the next chest contained mostly gems, diamonds and emeralds and citrines and even jade with some golden bracelets and necklaces mixed in. He wasn't imagining the muffled squeal from beside him as he opened the third chest, revealing a wide array of weaponry and navigation equipment (Lucky! He needed a new sextant!). The fourth was clothes, boots and capes and belts in remarkably good condition. He noticed Vertara's eyes locked on a particular belt, dark brown leather with a ruby in the buckle, and wordlessly passed it to her. She squealed in joy, quickly putting it on and bouncing in glee when it fit.

His curiosity roused, he opened the last chest, wondering what would be in it. The lid flipped back, and he held his breath. When he saw the contents, his mind went blank.

"What." He said flatly.

"What is it?" Vertara tilted her head curiously.

The final chest was empty save for one thing: a fruit the color of a sunset that looked like a cross between an orange and a lemon, covered in swirls. A Devil Fruit.

His eye twitched. "What the fuck!?"

Because seriously, what were the odds?

After a while, he calmed down and explained about Devil Fruits, consoling himself with the knowledge that at least it wasn't the Dark-Dark Fruit.

They went ashore after the early morning drama and a hearty breakfast, searching through the huts for anything valuable as they went. It was as he was poking at a decently made pot and wondering if it would be worth it to clean it up and sell it when something occurred to him and he called out, "Hey Vertara! Is there any chance of someone coming here from one of the other two islands and finding us?"

Midway through stuffing a mound of jewelry into a sack, she paused in thought before shaking her head, "Not much of one. My father's tribe was the strongest and we tended to eat any messengers, so the other two tribes learned to stay away."

"Good to know." He nodded, giving up on the pot and joining Vertara in looting any and all valuables. No cookware or anything to do with food - he'd probably catch something no matter how thoroughly he cleaned the stuff. The tribe wasn't big on art, but they found a hell of a lot of gems, jewelry and accessories. He also grabbed the weapons, because those would always sell and he thought Rouge might like a souvenir from this adventure. He might also give her some of the Island's Blood gems, just to see what she made of them.

They had to make two trips back to put the loot from the houses on the ship before they made it to where they left the treasury stuff. He carted the stuff they'd already sorted back to the Coddiwomple before he started opening more crates. Vertara got her book and pen that on closer inspection looked like it was made from bone and prepared to take inventory.

It took another day to go through it all, and it probably would have taken longer if half of it hadn't fallen apart when he opened the boxes. Most of the chests were half-full of treasure, so he dumped one chest into another to get a full treasure chest, thus decreasing the trips he had to make to transport it. On the third day, all of the loot was in his ship's hold and properly secured and he followed Vertara to see the mine. It was his first time seeing an actual mine and was an overall interesting trip. He looked at the large Island's Blood vein, spotted an abandoned pickaxe and decided he might as well. He got another chest of the raw stone and then walked out, followed by a mystified Vertara.

"Why'd you do that?" She asked.

"Just in case."

When he sailed away from the former island of cannibals, Vertara was with him. After how she'd helped him, he didn't feel right just leaving her.

A month and two islands later, he woke up to a warm weight against his side, red hair in his mouth, and the knowledge that it was his birthday. He blinked at the ceiling.

"Huh. I'm eighteen now."

Then Chuckles started singing "Happy Birthday to You". In Rouge's voice. While looking smug about his new trick. When the hell had Rouge had the chance to corrupt his snail?!