Chapter 6

A Chapter by Minyonka

Standard disclaimer applies

Hushed whispers constantly permeated the air around the Jupiter, one of the ships belonging to Whitebeard's fleet. The talk was always the same: Whitebeard's death, Ace's death, and Marco's disappearance. There were some who thought he was dead, and others who rejected the idea. Today's whisperings were the same, with the addition of another topic: a young woman aboard the ship. As a member of Whitebeard's crew, she was the youngest sister to the men and because she was injured, she was among their main concerns.

"She should be resting, not sitting up as a lookout," Vista's easily distinguishable voice grumbled.

"Our firefly refuses to believe Marco's dead," another voice answered. It belonged to the young woman's favorite cook, Emile.

"Do you?" There was silence for a moment.

"I don't want to, but we saw him fall."

"She's only this persistent because of Ace and Oyaji," Jozu's gruff voice added to the conversation.

"Can you blame her? Hotaru lost her father and her lover, not to mention Thatch and Anne. Another brother would break her."

Hotaru shifted in her chair as she listened to the conversation on the other side of the door. She winced and glared down at the bandages wrapped around her torso and upper arms. The nurses had done a fine job treating her. The healing now depended on her body. Hotaru figured the healing was slowed because she wasn't resting, as Vista often urged her to do. Of course, she never listened. How could she rest when Marco was out there, probably hurt? She hadn't seen him fall from the sky, but had been told by Jozu that he'd been struck by lightning.

"It would be difficult, but she's strong-willed. She'd pull through," Jozu said and Hotaru sighed. While she understood their concern fro her, she could do without them talking about her.

"Hotaru would be better if she rested more," Vista urged, a frown tugging at his lips.

He had been worrying most for the young woman's health, having seen her prior to being treated. During the battle at Marineford, she had been severely burned across her stomach and part of her upper back. Vista had helped Marco bring her aboard the Jupiter. The others hadn't seen the scarlet, blistered skin of their younger sister.

"She'll be fine," Jozu muttered again and began walking away as the door beside him opened.

In the doorway, they saw the weakened body of the young woman they'd been speaking of. In the past few weeks, she'd lost weight and muscle, having been unable to train and unwilling to eat much-- always said her stomach bothered her too much. Her black hair, nearly short enough to be a young man's, was matted to her head.

"Hotaru," Vista began, his tone already reprimanding.

"Please don't, Vista. You'll only be wasting your breath," the woman murmured.

"Are you going to be eating today?" Emile asked, but Hotaru shook her head.

"I don't have an appetite."

"Don't make us force you," Jozu said gruffly and Hotaru looked up at him.

"Do you think Marco's dead?" she asked, seeming to not hear the Third Division Commander's statement. Jozu stared down at her for a few tense moments. She no longer looked her twenty-one years, but rather like a small child again. He didn't want to worry her more, for fear of making her condition worse, but saw no point in giving her false hope. He could only answer honestly.

"I don't know."
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Marco set a box full of supplies at the back door of Carmella's. He had taken the offer to get a job there, even if it meant dealing with Angelo's doubts of him. Crista gave Marco a smile as he pried open the box for her to examine the ingredients. Carmella liked to have only freshest foods.

"Va bene?" Marco asked.

"Si. Perfetto. Grazie, Marco," Crista answered and Marco closed the box so it could be brought inside.

"Prego." He'd spent nearly a month in Sacro and was learning the Ancient Language with help from Crista. She was a patient teacher, for which Marco was thankful. He still struggled with more complex sentences.

"I'm glad you started working here. And Angelo is happy to have an extra set of hands."

Could've fooled me, Marco thought. Rather than voice this, he simply answered with, "Seems like it."

Crista smiled wider. Marco placed the crate of ingredients on the counter for the cooks and caught the scent of the Special Pie of the day: Apple. Oddly, the scent of apples often brought Marco's mind to the blond beauty he had been dreaming of. The reason was beyond him, but he soon gave up on resisting the sensation. In fact, he almost longed to be brought on the nostalgic trips, hoping to trigger his memories. They never came.

"Marco?" Crista asked, obviously trying to regain his attention.

"Hmm?"

"Were you remembering something?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Why?"

"You've been getting that look a lot lately, like you're on the verge of remembering part of your life before Sacro."

Crista's eyes were downcast and her voice meeker than usual. In the near-month Marco had been on Lacrime, Crista had obviously come to see him as another older brother Marco felt similarly towards her, as if the affection came natural to him.

"Does that worry you?" he asked. Crista's eyes widened.

"N-No! I-I mean, I would be happy for you if you remembered who you were." Marco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't lie to me, Crista."

"I have to get back to my tables," she answered quickly and turned to walk away. Marco grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.

"You just told Carmella you finished your last table and counted your checks. You were about to leave."

"It's nothing, Fratello."

"You're a bad liar." Marco gently led Crista out the back door of the restaurant and sat beside her on the wooden steps. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid," Crista insisted, pulling her arm out of Marco's grasp. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them; Marco waited for her to elaborate. "I just don't want to find out if who you were is different from who you are."

"You think I'll be a different person if I remember what happened before you found me?" Crista nodded, rubbing her eyes. Marco draped an arm over her shoulders to give her a loose, comforting hug. "You don't have to worry about that. You've become my sorellina." Crista looked up at him with a smile, despite her teary eyes.

"Grazie, Marco."

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