Chapter Text
A legend was told throughout the seas of a man named Evans. Always described as a young man in his late teens with wild black hair, glowing green eyes, and pale skin of about 5’9’’ tall, he would show up on an island, stay for at most a month, then disappear again into the sea not to be seen again for decades. The legend slightly changes from there depending on the location. On some islands, legend has it that he is the son of Poseidon that rises from the sea only when a village needs help. On others, he is a warrior angel that arrives from heaven to defeat anyone that tries to destroy their town. Some even claim he is the devil who comes to punish those who have sinned. The truth about the man named Evans is almost more unbelievable than any legend. And this is just a minuscule portion of his story.
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In the New World, there is an island that is rarely reached by humanity. Undiscoverable by any Log Pose and surrounded by an ocean covered in mist. The island’s natural (and unnatural) defenses exist only to trick travelers away from its island. And that suits Evans just fine. Throughout the many millennia in which he’s subsisted, Evans had come to appreciate the silence. Making friends only to see them pass away, he gave up on that long ago. His only companion now was a red fire phoenix named Fawkes, and that was all he needed. That was what magic had assured him of in the end.
Evans used to have a different name, but it has since been lost to the ages. The world changed tremendously since his birth, or what he could remember, and he no longer required that name. That much he knew was true. Evans had no need for anything but his solitude on his island. The world could burn around him for all he cared. It wasn’t as if it changed anything in his life. But that nagging feeling in his gut he constantly pushed away kept returning. Something big was about to happen, and he was meant to do something about it. Lady Magic was tugging him towards the plans Fate had laid out for the world once again. Lady Magic had struggled so much.
Around 900 years ago. Something important had happened. What had that been?
Evans searched for his logbooks. They should have the answer. The time was coming that he’d have to remember, or else something terrible would happen. He had been trying to give up the ‘save the world’ habit he had ingrained into his being. Someone from long ago had told him it was unhealthy. Brown hair and books? The memories start to fade over the years. He still struggled to find his logbook from that century. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be.
He had a way to look back. The old bowl sat locked away behind the shelves in his office. That option was to be avoided at all costs. Last time, he spent the next century trying to find new ways to kill himself. Not like he hadn’t tried before. Nothing ever changed. He knew better now. It wasn’t like he was a sadist. His experiences had taught him that he should know better than to dig into the past.
Lady Magic kept tugging him towards Fate’s plans.
Until that day, Evans would continue to spend his days relaxing in his little cottage on his secluded island. As always, he would only ever make trips for essentials. He would avoid islands where he made attachments and instead spend his days in his happy solitude. There were still books left unread, plants to tend to, meals to explore, and booze to drink. Should he take a trip to find a sparring partner to let off some steam; well, that was no one’s business but his. Society could always use a check-in as well. Setting off his island was a regretful necessity he must fulfill periodically, and should that take him on the adventures he once yearned for, then so be it.
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Lying under the sun in his small boat with Fawkes perched on his stand having a nap, Evans was humming to himself. He enjoyed traveling like this. While he could apparate into any town he pleased, that would likely cause him to develop unnecessary attachments. It was much safer this way.
Plus, you never knew who was watching you. That was how he had ended up in so much trouble with the Navy all those years ago.
The waves rocking the boat soothed Evans as he floated aimlessly at sea. His magic lazily directing his boat forwards with no destination. While Evans disagreed that being immortal was worth the cost, it did come with some pleasant perks. Including the freedom of having no need to rush, eat, drink, or sleep. All he really had to worry about was sunburn, but that was easily fixed with a quick sunblock potion. It was a beautiful day at sea, and he was going to enjoy it.
Or so he thought.
A loud siren and bells woke him up from his near meditative state.
Evans could hear shouting in the distance and feet stomping against wooden pannels. Looking over to where the noise was coming from, Evans was surprised to see a large ship with a whale figurehead lurking over his small boat, about the block the sun from Evans’ view. Sitting up slowly, Evans stopped moving his little boat forward and looked up at the people staring down at him.
The ship had to be the size of a small island.
After a few minutes, several people leaped off the side of the boat, making their way towards Evans. Three of them entered the water, and one transformed his arms into wings, flying over to approach Evans. The wings looked as if they were on fire with the blue flames from his childhood. Flashes of a greasy-haired man and a jar of blue flames fluttered past. Evans shook his head, trying to clear his head of the unnecessary memories.
The winged man flew up to the side of his boat and stopped, hovering in midair.
“You okay, yoi?” The man asked. “You’re in some pretty treacherous waters at the moment. We don’t usually see people sailing the New World in tiny boats.”
Evans looked up wearily and nodded. He hadn’t been planning on having human interaction this early on in his trip, and it seemed he had stumbled upon one of the big players at the moment.
“The name’s Marco. First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. We don’t usually take well to strangers around here. Could you leave this territory, yoi? Not sure if you’re aware, but this is our turf, and you haven’t put in a request to enter our waters that we’re aware of. We’d rather not fight you if you just accidentally wandered in, so we would prefer it if you just left peacefully.” Bird-man Marco asked him, sounding a little annoyed.
“Who’s the Whitebeard Pirates?” Evans asked with a faux clueless manner, knowing that the birdman would only become more aggravated with his comment.
Plus, it was always good to gather information. Who knew how long it had been since his previous outing.
Marco looked at him in disbelief. “What you doing in the New World without knowing Whitebeard, kid? He’s one of the Yonko? You know? The pirate rulers of the New World?”
Evans tilted his head, laying on the confused look. He stifled the laughter ringing inside his head. The birdman looked as if he was about to blow steam.
On the other hand, had it really been that long since he last got out? What was this about Yonkos?
Marco sighed. “Look, kid. We’re pretty nice pirates, so we’ll get you a map of the territories and let you leave with a warning, but be careful. Not all the Yonko are as nice, and you’re sailing on dangerous waters.”
Evans nodded, trying to keep his face as innocent as possible as to keep up the ruse.
“What’s your name, kid?” Marco asked after quickly signaling to the crew for something, likely to grab the map and confirm he wasn’t a threat.
“Call me Evans.” He replied with a careless innocent smile.
“Evans? Like that old wives’ tale. The one about the island guardian or what not?”
“Yep,” Evans replied with a grin, popping the P. “My aunt said the name was given to me so I could grow up one day to be a guardian to those in need.”
Marco sighed, looking at the kid in front of him, questioning if it was the right thing to let this kid who seemed to know nothing about the sea continue on the rough waters the filled the New World. “Look, Evans. I’ll be back. I’m just going to grab you that map, but then you best be on your way.” Marco said with a stern glance before flying away back to the ship.
Evans looked at the retreating figure with unconcealed curiosity. It seemed the birdman was torn between wanting to mother the clueless child they crossed on the waters and scaring the kid off in distrust, wanting to protect his crewmates.
Looking over the side of the boat at the fishmen that were still underwater, Evans waved. Continuing to play the happy-go-lucky hair-brained child that these pirates assumed him to be.
After some glances and hand motions, one of the fishmen popped his head out of the water. “What do you want, kid?”
“I was just waving to say hi!” Evans exclaimed in mock dismay. “I wasn't looking for any trouble. You guys should stop getting your panties in such a twist. I’m just a kid, ya know?”
The fishman nodded slowly, distrust lingering in his eyes. “Well, I’m up here now anyways. Any other questions you want to ask? You seem out of your depth here in this ocean, and I’m not keen on letting kids die on the sea when it could’ve been avoided with a bit more knowledge.”
Evans tilted his head, thinking about the questions he had swirling in his mind. “It’s not really related to the sea, but I am a bit curious about the birdman. Marco, I think it was? Is that dude a Devil Fruit user? I’ve heard about them, some guy even came to my island that had a devil fruit power, but I’ve never seen someone with wings like that.” Evans asked.
The fishman nodded, eyes narrowing as he stared at the child in front of him, trying to figure out what the kid’s deal was. “Marco the Phoenix is his epithet. Some kind of mystical bird. He’s pretty famous. How come you don’t know this stuff, kid?”
“The island I’m from is very sheltered. I left to explore, but I haven't gotten very far.”
The fishman nodded in acceptance, but his eyes still betrayed his suspicion of the child. “Marco should be back soon, so if you have no more questions, I’m going to go.”
Evans nodded, waving goodbye to the fishman as he ducked under the waves to rejoin his crewmates.
Evans hummed to himself, glancing briefly at Fawkes, who was still perched behind him. The bird was doused in concealment charm. It was no coincidence that the pirates hadn't noticed the bird yet.
“Is that right? Your brethren?” Evans muttered, almost as if he was talking to himself, but the phoenix knew otherwise.
Fawkes trilled lightly in confirmation as Evans's mind darkened, thinking about the sad fate that likely awaited the pirate. He thought he buried those things too deep to find.
“Well, how about that?” Evans whispered in disbelief. It had been a long time since he had seen a mythical beast devil fruit, and they were never meant to surface at all.
Memories came back to him in waves. The creation of the devil’s fruit with the remaining elves. The merfolk surviving but physiologically changed. Later changing, adapting into fishmen. The final war.
“Yoi.” Marco’s voice shook Evans out of his thoughts. Marco tossed him a scroll with the words ‘New World Territories’ scribbled on the top. “This shows all the Yonkos’ territories as of now. Be more careful where your sailing, yoi. You seem like an okay kid that’s just set out to sea and stumbled into the wrong place. The New World is tough to navigate, but the directions to neutral territory are on the map. Should be pretty simple using a proper log pose. You should be able to make it from here pretty easily.”
Marco paused for a moment, the spoke up again “You do have a New World certified log pose, right?”
Evans glanced up at the man, not too sure what he was going on about the the log pose, taking his eyes off the now unraveled scroll that rested in his lap, and nodded. “I’m good on the log pose. Thank you, Mister. I really do appreciate it.”
Marco nodded, still looking as serious as ever. “Any questions?”
“Not about the map or directions, no. But I do have a question for you if you can answer it. Have you had a burning day yet?” Evans asked with wide eyes, looking manic in his route of questioning.
Marco looked at him like he was crazy, unsure of how to feel about the kid. “Just hurry up and get out of here, kid. We have places to be, and this pit stop to deal with you has put us behind schedule.”
Evans sighed at the lack of an answer but quickly nodded and hoisted the small sail attached to his boat, using magic to order the wind in the direction he desired. Pushing his magic into the ocean again to make his boat move faster, he looked behind him and the slowly retreating figures of the ship and its crew. Since when did Yonkos exist? He hadn’t been gone that long, had he? Or had Roger been pushed out of his desired spot faster than Evans had predicted?
Once out of sight, Evans decided to apparate him and his boat near one of his favorite islands in Paradise. He always did try to avoid having favorites, but sometimes it was just unavoidable.
Evans needed to figure out how many years had passed. Catch up on some news. Apparently, he was a bit out of date with his current knowledge, and unfortunately, things like that would get you killed in this world. It wasn’t like he could be killed, but it was a pain and a half having to regenerate your entire body from scratch that Evans dreaded when he died. Thus, the search for knowledge began.