Chapter 8

Her name was Portgas D. Rouge, she was fifteen years old, from an island in the South Blue, and she was going to be a pirate. How did Marshall know this? She told him so. Repeatedly.

"For the last time, I am not joining your crew!" He barked out, crossing his arms across his chest and making use of his height to glare down at her. She matched him look for look, scowling as she snapped back.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Yes I am!"

"NO YOU'RE NOT!"

"Ha! I knew it!" He cackled, watching as she froze, silently mouthing their argument to herself before she realized what happened, her face turning pale and then bright red. He half-expected to see steam coming out of her ears as she shrieked in frustration. Ignoring the fact that he just won an argument with a teenager using the oldest trick in the book despite not really being a teenager himself, he felt rather proud as he watched her sputter while trying to think of a comeback. It was probably a good thing that they were the only ones on this stretch of beach or he would have been too embarrassed to be so childish. Finally, she stomped a foot in the sand and yelled out.

"Join my crew already!"

"No!" He retorted, before demanding, "Why do you want me to join your crew, anyway? You don't even know me!"

"You're tall and look strong!"

A pause, then, "That's it? That's the only reason?"

"...I also saw you checking your Log Pose, so you know how to navigate?" It came out slightly unsure and sounded more like a question than a fact.

He stared at her with a completely deadpan expression as he told her, each word like a boulder dropped onto her head, "You don't even know my name."

"...What's your name?"

"...Marshall D. Teach. I go by Marshall."

"See? Now I know your name!" She chirped, then squeaked at the gimlet stare he gave her in response. She blushed, kicking at the sand with a foot and grumbling.

Marshall frowned as something occurred to him and he asked, "Why do you want to be a pirate anyway? If it's just about sailing, you can do that without being a pirate."

Rouge froze mid-motion, slowly lowering the foot she'd drawn back to kick at the stretch of beach they were standing on. "You know, you're actually the first person who's ever asked me that," she said quietly, looking down at the ground. Just her tone of voice was enough for him to know that she was seeing something besides sand, lost in memories. She started to talk, sounding unsure at the beginning but gaining confidence as she spoke, "No one's ever listened when I talked before, not even if I screamed or shouted, but if I was a pirate, people would have to listen, they wouldn't be able to brush me aside or pretend I didn't exist. If I become a pirate, a famous one, then no one will be able to force me to fade into the background!" Her head shot up, eyes shining with pure resolve as her gaze met his with surprising ferocity.

It was that resolve that made him want to look away, heart aching, because he knew. He knew Portgas D. Rouge wouldn't achieve her dream; doomed to be a footnote in the stories of two men who would change the world. An important part of the story, but one scarcely mentioned, and that...that wasn't fair, not for a girl with so many hopes and dreams so determined to make her mark on the world.

He kept meeting her gaze, however, even as he reiterated, voice a tad softer but just as firm, "I won't join your crew, but...I hope you achieve your dream." Because if he could change things by not joining the Whitebeards, who was to say that Rouge couldn't be more than a brief scene in a flashback?

Rouge looked at him closely, brow furrowed in thought before her expression relaxed. There was a small smile on her face as she admitted, "That's not what I was hoping for...but thanks."

And so his first meeting with Portgas D. Rouge ended surprisingly amicably.

He just wished he could say the same about the second one.

He was buying the last of the things he needed to restock when the door to the bar across the street exploded into splinters and a short, stocky man flew through the opening pursued by a blonde ball of fury.

He stared, because that was Rouge. Rouge with her tank top and shorts splattered with blood and wielding a knife with impressive skill, but still Rouge. It was getting close to nighttime, but there were still enough people out and about that he wasn't the only one staring. The fifteen year-old was looming over the downed man when the guy's friends came running out of the bar. Abandoning his unpurchased supplies, thankful they were just surplus, he charged over and punched a man about to stab Rouge in the back so hard he knocked down three of his buddies.

Rouge spun around, eyes wide in shock, and they got even wider when she saw who had come running in to help her. "Marshall!" She cried out, and though he wished she hadn't said his name, whatever, it wasn't like it made a lot of difference. He was pretty recognizable, appearance-wise.

Watching Rouge fight was like a dance, she dipped and twirled in and out of striking range, knife-blade flashing so quickly it left faint afterimages in its wake. Wherever she passed, people fell to the ground crying out and clutching bleeding slashes.

He fought without haki, throwing punches and the occasional kick as he searched for an opening to grab Rouge and escape. When he couldn't find one, he made one, using short-and-stocky as a bludgeon to clear a space wide enough for him to get through. Throwing his human bludgeon aside, he bolted through the opening and hollered, "Rouge! Get a move on!"

Delighted, the girl laughed and followed after him, easily keeping pace despite his longer legs.

Shouts and curses sounded behind them, and as they ran he asked her, "So what were those guys so angry about?"

Rouge huffed, not even breathing hard as she answered, "I just got lucky during a game of cards, there was no need for them to be such sore losers!"

A moment of silence, then he deadpanned, "You cheated, didn't you?"

"Yup!"

Inwardly he swore, but outwardly he sighed, tossed Rouge over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran faster. The sounds of pursuit behind them faded, and he turned to head towards where he'd beached his boat. He'd already put away the supplies he bought earlier in the day, so he could set sail whenever he wanted. He had no idea if Rouge even had a boat, he realized belatedly. After a minute, he asked.

"Nope! I stowed away on a merchant ship and got off here when it docked." She informed him cheerfully, not seeming to mind hanging over his shoulder and nonchalantly confessing to being a stowaway. "I figured I'd get a crew together before getting a ship somehow," he felt her shrug. Okay then.

"I don't think that's going to happen," he commented, coming to a stop a small distance away from his boat. He let Rouge down from his shoulder, grimacing as he sees the blood left behind on his shirt from Rouge's clothes. The girl, now back on her feet, bounced in place.

"Nah, probably not," she agreed. "Guess I'll find another ship to sneak onboard, try my luck on another island. Those guys should be gone by now, so I'll go scope out the ships in port."

In the middle of the night? Yeah, he wasn't chancing that. From the little grin on Rouge's face, she knew it, too.

He sighed, gesturing towards his boat helplessly, "Welcome aboard, you little weasel."

Rouge laughed, and alright, he might have been grinning a little too. He climbed onto the boat and headed into the cabin, Rouge close at his heels. Ooh'ing and ahh'ing appreciatively, the blonde ran over and jumped on the pile of bobcat pelts, rolling and giggling as he dug out a shirt he'd outgrown and tossed it to her, telling her to wash up and change. She rolled back to her feet, snatched up the shirt and darted out, calling out, "Okay!"

He was washed up, changed into his own sleepwear, and stretched out on the bed by the time she got back. She tossed her dirty clothes aside, her sheathed knife on top of them, and yelled out, "Dibs on the furs!" He laughed, because he totally saw that coming. Surely a short sleepover wouldn't be that bad, he thought sleepily.

He woke up the next morning to find that Rouge had migrated over during the night and snuggled into his right side. Hm, comfy...

Their third meeting wasn't nearly as peaceful, unfortunately.

He ran into Rouge again almost a month and three islands later, and it was in the middle of a battle between a pirate crew and some particularly zealous Marines who could best be described as: 'collateral damage, what collateral damage?'. A small port town was on fire, civilians were screaming and fleeing to whatever shelter they could find, cannons and gunfire sounded, and both pirates and Marines were cursing as they clashed.

He was helping with the evacuation of the townspeople when from the corner of his eye he saw Rouge stab a Marine in the back and then turn around and slice a pirate's throat before they could run a young man through. Their eyes met, and they exchanged looks of understanding before turning and continuing to help where they could.

Marshall himself stabbed no less than a dozen people and made tremendous use of his Observation haki. When the fires were all put out, the Marines and pirates were gone, Rouge snuck onto his boat and silently curled up next to him, wordless tears dripping down her face. He curled his arms around her and laid back, closing his eyes.

There was really no good ending to that situation.

Their fourth meeting went better.

They both happened to be on the same island, one that catered to gamblers, and he ran into Rouge while trying his luck at the poker table.

(He was winning, by the way.)

He and Rouge wound up at the same table, silently cleaned house, and then went to a restaurant where they were subsequently banned because they ate all the food in the place. He wasn't too surprised, they were Ds after all, and Rouge just laughed before inviting him to hit the casinos.

They both left that island a lot richer. He celebrated by buying a pair of proper boots and three pairs of fitting pants.

On his way off the island, he fought a Sea King. All and all it was a good day.