Chapter 43

Marshall would later be embarrassed to admit it, but he didn't remember much of those two years.

Still, he paid attention to basic hygiene; no stubble lasted more than a day on his face, he brushed his teeth, and even ran a brush through his hair. The day he woke up after one of his more enthusiastic attempts to get thoroughly intoxicated and found a knot, he could practically hear Rouge's outraged scream.

His drinking binge was interspersed with brief periods of sobriety as he traveled between islands, which he spent grieving more often than not. Sometimes he cried, great heaving sobs with no witnesses but the sea and his rowboat, other times he sat in silence, remembering the good times and looking at his sister's face grinning up at him from her last wanted poster.

Spending most of his time in a tipsy fog, those two years were a blur of color and sound and sensation, save for some highlights.

"Teach me how you did that!"

Blinking dazedly, Marshall looked down (and down, then down some more) at the source of the voice.

A gremlin was his first thought, as he stared at the girl barely as tall as his knee standing imperiously in front of him, hands on her hips and a pout that she likely thought to be an intimidating scowl on her lips. She had bright red hair pulled back into pigtails and purple eyes set in a round face tanned from playing in the sun for hours. Dressed in the kind of tattered clothing that he was familiar with from his own childhood, a dusty and torn belly shirt and pair of shorts with worn sandals, there was no reason the kid should have come up to him.

"...What?"

"Teach me how you did that," the girl repeated, "you sent Little Joe and his lackies running with just a look!"

That must have been the idiots who'd made a ruckus and broke through the pleasant buzz he'd finally reached.

Maybe it was the freckles across her nose, or maybe it was the way she fearlessly came up and started talking that reminded him so, so much of Rouge, but something inside him softened enough that he grunted out, "can't. 'S haki. S'ecial haki, not e'erone got it."

"Well what can you teach me?" The girl persisted.

His piece having been said, he ignored her and drained the last of the booze from the bottle in his hand.

Looking forlornly at the empty container, he sighed. That had been his last bottle, too...

"-ey! Hey!" Blinking at the faint pressure he felt on his foot, he looked down to see the girl jumping up and down on it. Obviously she'd been calling out for awhile, if her expression of frustration was anything to go by. Seeing that she had his attention, she hopped off his foot and demanded to know, "if I give you more booze will you teach me?"

Well, what did he have to lose?

"Sure."

That was when a pouch appeared on her bare stomach, that she proceeded to reach into and pull out a full bottle of the island's specialty rum as she bragged. "Old Man Crabsby never notices when I lift a few bottles here and there; doesn't think I got anyway to sneak them out!"

She was beaming as she handed him the bottle, and well, a deal was a deal.

"...who are you?" He wondered, taking a swig of rum.

"Name's Atreya! Nice to meet ya!"

"Customer wins again!"

Despite the false cheer, the disbelief in the dealer's voice perfectly matched that in Atreya's eyes, because how could anyone win twelve times in a row?

At dice.

Regardless of the incredulous looks being thrown his way, her new teacher calmly placed another seemingly impossible bet (triple fours). When the croupier (was that what the guy with the dice was called? She wasn't sure) lifted the cup to reveal - sure enough - three fours, he took a swig from the bottle in one hand and raked in his winnings with the other, otherwise not reacting.

"How are you doing that?" She asked him.

"Practice."

Eventually the other gamblers caught on and started copying his bets, and her teacher's winning streak lasted for almost another hour before the owner of the casino showed up looking murderous.

They left the casino, profits safely stored in her pouch, and she immediately began pestering him to teach her how to do that.

...Rouge smiling, Ace held in her arms as her eyes closed and-

Marshall woke up, breathing hard and heart pounding. Not a nightmare but a memory, one that had him soaking the blankets in cold sweat and tightening his arms around the body in his arms, one warm and breathing-

Wait. Body?

He was sure he'd gone to bed alone.

Puzzled, he looked down to see the redhaired gremlin that had attached herself to him curled up in his arms. Seeing her sleeping peacefully, he decided against getting up, instead sighing and tossing the sweat-soaked blankets aside.

He had admit, he'd gotten used to having someone using him as a pillow - Rouge, Vertara and various members of his crew - and it was nice having someone in bed with him again...

(Atreya opened her eyes when she felt her teacher's breathing ease back into sleep, and she sighed silently in relief.

When he'd started sweating, face twisting in pain at some unseen nightmare, she hadn't known what to do. Fretting and worrying as her teacher suffered, she'd finally done the only thing she could think of and climbed onto the bed and curled up on his chest like a cat. His arms instinctively came up to hug her, and she was glad that it seemed to help.

His sleep was undisturbed for the rest of the night.)

"So, your name is Marshall?"

Looking up at the gremlin's question, Marshall blinked. He wasn't even buzzed despite already being halfway into the small island bar's stock, but he still had to take a moment to process that before deadpanning.

"You've been traveling with me for half a year and it's taken you this long to figure that out?"

The gremlin bristled.

"It's taken me that long to decipher the slurred mumble you gave me when I asked!"

Which, fair.

Marshall was starting to think that he might have made a mistake when he'd mentioned using Armament with her kangaroo kicks.

"HYAAA!"

"My leg!"

....Nah, it'd probably be fine.

"Why does this always happen?" Marshall wondered, speaking to no one in particular as he stared at what had once been a rowboat with a cabin and was now halfway to being called an actual ship.

"Hey, you saved their island, just be glad I talked 'em out of making it bigger!" Atreya the Evil chirped, beaming and bouncing in place - thankfully without using her Devil Fruit - as she looked at the much larger boat. "And hey, we have an actual kitchen now!"

True.

It was a small one, barely larger than a closet, but true. No more running the risk of setting their boat on fire to cook fish or just doing without and eating jerky or other noncooked food.

At that thought, his stomach growled, reminding him that there was a feast going on literally five feet behind him and well, at least it wasn't a Sky Island this time.

Did you know there were islands under the sea that weren't populated by fishmen? Marshall didn't, and really could have done without the knowledge.

Punching one of the natives trying to harpoon the gremlin in the face, he swore that this place better have some damn good alcohol.

Freaking spontaneous whirlpools...

(It turns out that it was all a case of mistaken identity due to the local tyrant being a koala Zoan and the gremlin reaching into her pouch for something at the wrong moment.

The natives were very apologetic once the tyrant was dead (the guy tried to kidnap the gremlin, 'nuff said) and the situation was explained, insisting on thanking them by 'improving' their ship.

Wood from our Treasure Tree Charbydis, they boasted, finest material for ship-making under the sea!

So now his rowboat was kind of a ship and damn it, now he had to start thinking of names because he could see where this was going. It could also submerge whenever he wanted to because the wood the natives used kind of repelled water, enabling any ships made from it to sail around underwater? He didn't bother listening to the technical explanation, but the gremlin seemed fascinated.

Still, bigger kitchen and an actual pantry! Sweet!

They also insisted he take the former tyrant's Devil Fruit, which okay, considering what the guy did with it he could see why they didn't want it around.

And yes, the island actually did have some damn good liquor.)

In his slightly tipsy defense, at the time it had made sense to teach the gremlin Moonwalk and Shave, he just hadn't thought she'd use them like this.

"Get the demon!"

"Watch out, it's heading towards-!"

"Argh!"

Marshall watched the utter chaos unfold, the town engulfed in flames and in the process of burning to the ground as the gremlin cackled, gleefully running circles around the guardsmen attempting to corral her.

Tilting his head, he wondered why this situation looked so familiar...

Shrugging it off, he took another drink and sat back to watch the show.

The first time he woke up when the gremlin had a nightmare, he didn't realize what woke him at first.

He laid on the bed in his new cabin, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling before his attention shifted to the bundle of blankets on a makeshift cot near the wall. He saw that bundle trembling and suddenly he was wide awake. He moved, and suddenly he was right next to the smaller bed, crouching down and checking on the gremlin with both eyes and Observation.

Shivering, pinched brow, pained expression...he immediately realized what was happening.

Confirmation came in the form of a soft whimper and nearly inaudible whisper, "...please, don't leave..."

That did it.

Reaching out, he pulled the gremlin into his arms and moved back to the main bed. Sitting down, propping his back against the wall and making sure her head was poised over his heart, he made himself comfortable.

Already the gremlin looked better, face not as pained, and really, staying awake all night wasn't a hardship, not when it meant the gremlin slept peacefully the rest of the night.

Slowly, softly, he hummed.

"The sky was grey and cloudy, and the wind was from the west, when we spied a battered frigate, with her tattered sail full dressed..."

(The next day, he walked into his cabin and found the cot gone but an extra blanket on the bed.

He didn't say a word.)

After almost a year into traveling together, their first major fight took place.

With the clarity that came from a few too many bottles of wine and a mild concussion, Marshall could admit that yeah, he fucked up. It wasn't like the thing that started the fight was even that important! It just got blown out of proportion with each angry word until they were both standing on opposite sides of the boat in stony silence, not communicating except for glares.

They parted ways the moment they reached port, the gremlin angry enough that he was convinced she wouldn't be coming back, and in the heat of the moment he thought that that was for the best. He was already too attached. Prepared to put the kangaroo-girl out of his mind, he walked into the nearest bar.

He could admit that maybe he wasn't quite as glad about the gremlin leaving as he tried to convince himself he was, because he let his guard down. Midway through the establishment's stock of wine, he felt something strike the back of his head and then it was light's out.

Waking up an indefinite amount of time later, he found himself chained to the wall of a dungeon. An actual, honest-to-Davy-Jones dungeon. Watching a crazy guy pace and rant about he knew the people were plotting against him, hiring outsiders to do their dirty work.

He pretty much understand what was happening just from that, and once again cursed his luck.

Crazy Guy left a few minutes later and Marshall sighed, leaning back with a clink of chains, figuring he might as well get comfortable. Sure he could bust out - he wasn't bound with seastone - but what was the point? It wasn't like he had anything important to do.

Fast forward an unknown amount of time later and here he was, sober and incredibly bored in a dungeon. Crazy Guy obviously wasn't the kind to torture his prisoners except with mind-numbing boredom.

He was about ready to start counting the cracks in the ceiling when the door, for lack of a better word, exploded off its hinges, slamming into the wall inches from his head.

Even before the dust settled, Marshall was smiling. "Hey, gremlin."

Just two words, but with a wealth of meaning the kangaroo-girl heard loud and clear as she returned the smile with a wide grin.

("Curse you!" Oadipys Franz, unofficial king of Pyriss and the scumbag idiot who kidnapped her friend and teacher, shrieked, frothing at the mouth as he raged in the ruins of his estate, "mark my words, I'll see you in your grave if it's the last thing I do!"

"Bury me shallow, coz I'll be back!" She retorted, knocking him out with an Armament-clad kick to the face as she raced down the stairs she'd uncovered that led to the dungeon.

When she'd calmed down from that stupid, stupid fight, she'd felt awful. It been such a small thing to fight over; she couldn't even remember what it was after her anger subsided, which just made her feel even worse. She'd wandered around for hours, trying to work up the guts to find Marshall and apologize, but then she'd seen that guy in armor pushing around Marie and she leapt before she looked, partially transforming her legs and taking him out with a single kick.

(It was something Marshall had taught her early on when she first joined him, mumbling that if she was gonna have the fruit then she might as well know how to use it when she asked, and now she felt even worse about their stupid fight.)

Saving Marie got her introduced to Marie's brother Mark who was leading the resistance against the unofficial king of the island and also a few bottles short of a keg, if what they told her was true. Mark was okay but kind of wimpy, having wound up with the leader position because he was too nice to say no. Then the so-called 'Royal Swords' attacked the resistance meeting Marie had dragged her to and she had to help fight and then Todd who had a crush on Marie almost got stabbed and then-

Then the head bastard bragged about how they had already captured the other mercenary the rebels had hired while looking at her and-

Her mind went blank, thoughts drowned in a wave of static as she watched Mark step up and really be a leader, the rebels beating the attackers back, Marie crying and confessing to Todd as she bandaged his injury.

Atreya saw it all, but none of it registered, her mind still trying to process what that knight-jerk said.

She had come to the island with one person, just one, and they were saying they caught him? It wasn't possible, her teacher was way too strong to get taken down by weaklings like these-

But if he was distracted, say by finding the closest source of booze to forget a fight he'd had with someone, someone might get the drop on him enough to get in a lucky shot...

Feeling sick to her stomach, she spoke up during the impromptu planning of an attack on the head jerk's main residence and bluntly stated that she was coming along, not taking no for an answer. Credit where it was due, Mark knew a losing battle when he saw one and moved the meeting along.

The entire time, she kept remembering that the last thing she said to him were angry words in the heat of some stupid argument she couldn't even remember the cause of.

She might have gone a little wild during the attack, powerful kicks blowing holes in the walls big enough to fit a ship through and muscled tail whipping around to send people flying. She was pretty much a one kangaroo wrecking crew, and by the time she saw the head jerk himself, the keep was in ruins.

Dust and rubble filled the air as she ran thrown the dungeon, following her nose to one cell at the back and-

Crash!

Seeing Marshall, her teacher and friend, chained but unharmed and hearing him say those two words made everything okay.

She returned his smile with a wide grin of her own, and all was right in her world.)

A week later, Marshall found a bounty poster for "Gremlin" Atreya, worth seven million Beri, in the bundle of paper delivered by a familiar News Coo.

Caw

"You said it," he agreed, handing the albatross three thousand Beri and some salmon.

It was hard to tell which the bird was happier about.

"So, why are you being named Queen again?" Marshall asked, pointedly ignoring the flower crown on his own head.

"'Cause you punched the high priest in the face and I kicked the nasty princess so hard she hit the big statue and cracked it enough to show where they'd hid her parents bodies!" The gremlin laughed, swishing her hair so the flowers woven into it went flying in an array of color.

The Dryadians idolized flowers and used them for pretty much everything, even developing a language based around them, and the people had pulled out all the stops for the celebration. The positions of King and Queen were mostly ceremonial, one of the priests explained, but they did come with a lovely spring and the right to wear the Royal Flora.

The fruit wine was good, and he silently passed the gremlin a few bottles to put in her pouch.

Sitting in a grove bedecked in flowers and eating a feast comprised entirely of fruit and vegetables while scantily clad men and women danced around a rainbow-flowered tree, he shrugged and went with it.

The gremlin wanted to be a shipwright, he learned one day.

He didn't find out intentionally, but they were helping out a merchant ship during a storm and fighting off a giant squid attack and he walked in on her giving a motivational speech to a cabin boy. She mentioned her dream of being a great shipwright and yeah, that made sense. It explained her being so interested in the boat upgrade on the underwater island.

Really, he wasn't planning to say anything, but on a whim he bought her a book on ship-building and when he gave it to her she figured out he knew. The gremlin behaved like she was on pins and needles for nearly a week, clearly bracing for some kind of mockery.

After that week, he just ruffled her hair and said simply, "no one has any right to call your dream stupid but you."

Just like that, the tension was gone.

"Well, that escalated quickly."

His comment earned him an incredulous look from the gremlin, the two sitting on a hill and watching the mayhem happening below.

"We should stop them!"

"Later, it's just getting to the good part."

"....fine."

Ever so slowly, the gremlin reached over to snag a handful of popcorn he'd had the foresight to prepare.

"It needs to be delivered by October 15th, think you can make it happen?"

Ca-caw!

"Look, I'm not saying you have to deliver it yourself, just send over some birds you don't like and offer to split the profits,"

Ca-ca-caw!

"Well if you don't like them then would you really care if they didn't make it back?"

Silence.

....Caw

(He may or may not wind up giving the koala Zoan to an artist that he might or might not woo for the night.

(If anyone ever asked, he claimed he lost it in a card game.))

Fucking Dance-Dance Fruit!

Irys Island was a gorgeous sight, natural waterfalls and crystal-like trees throwing off a dazzling array of rainbows in every direction, and the people were as colorful as their island.

The Festival of Colors started the day after they made land, and he and the gremlin stayed through the whole thing. Part of the festival was a myriad of games, and between the two of them they cleaned up, walking away with the grand prizes for practically every game.

Only one they didn't win was the beauty contest, and by unspoken agreement they didn't even try for that one.

"In my defense," the gremlin started.

"You say that like you are in any way defensible,"

"Stupid whirlpools!" Marshall roared, punching a native who looked like a bizarre mixture of human and deer, except green, in the snout.

The boat was fine, but apparently they'd crushed some kind of sacred kelp when they landed and now the locals were out for blood.

A couple of days later, local time, the gremlin figured out that the so-called 'sacred' kelp had hallucinogenic properties and the deer-people mayor was using it to drug his citizens and maintain his popularity. Marshall didn't really get it, but he talked to the guy's secretary and the woman looked appropriately furious and horrified.

Cue the revolution.

The gremlin kicked the mayor's son in the family jewels while Marshall raided the kitchen and somehow ended up inspiring the mayor's daughter to stand up to her father. All in all, an eventful few days. Then he woke up the day after the celebratory feast to find out the gremlin had gotten together with the deer-people shipwrights to give his boat an upgrade.

"Seriously, the wood from their Treasure Tree Scylla is amazing!" The gremlin gushed as Marshall stared up at his renovated boat - no it was a ship now, a decent-sized one with a proper mast and everything. They'd incorporated the pieces of the original boat and previous upgrade into this one, though those bits were on the inside. The layout was different from the Coddi, with a completely different Dial system (they called it a Shell system) used to submerge the ship and control the depth and speed.

The treasure room and his quarters were untouched, but since he had actual captain's quarters now...

Sighing, he ruffled the gremlin's hair and moved to enter the ship. "Come on, gremlin, time to shift some things around and make use of all this new room."

Whooping in glee, the gremlin raced after him.

"No."

Marshall's voice was firm and the gremlin scowled, demanding to know, "why not?"

"Because searching for buried treasure anywhere near Dead Man's Island always ends badly, let alone the side near Dead Man's Current!"

"But the map leads to an island almost a week's sail away, we won't even get close!" She argued, "please? Just to take a look?"

It was the eyes that got him. Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as the gremlin cheered, sensing victory. Still, he told her pointedly, "when this goes straight to the Locker, I will be saying 'I told you so'!"

"I told you so."

Wrapped in rope and suspended above a boiling cauldron, the gremlin whined.

The second anniversary of Rouge's death, Marshall found an island specialized in making liquor and drank their entire stock.

He didn't remember a lot of that week, but he knew that the gremlin stayed by his side the entire time.

A month later, Marshall decided that it was time to pay a certain island in the East Blue a visit.