Water lapped at the sides of the Moby dick, water as calm as the ocean could ever be. Leaning on the starboard railing near the aft of the ship, Crow "Crocodile" Newgate was listless. Unable to sleep, she had hoped to get some comfort from the dark depths. She stared out over the dark water, the moon and stars hiding behind wispy clouds, their reflections faint. Usually, Crocodile would find a cloudy night sky like this soft and comforting, but instead, it only managed to amplify her lack of energy. For the first time in months, she didn't feel restless. But this wasn't much better.

She had been ship bound for three months now, forbidden to step foot on an island unless she had at least five of her siblings with her. Trying to find five of her siblings that were free at the same time seemed to be impossible. It didn't help that Oyaji was being particularly stubborn where his youngest daughter was concerned.

As much as she wanted to get off the ship and explore, staying on board was easier. At least then, there was no disappointment when she couldn't find anybody to accompany her. Having someone go with her had been a rule since she was thirteen, but it had only been one escort back then. But every year, Oyaji told her she needed another sibling with her, and it got harder to leave.

And then, about four months ago, she'd tried to sneak off the ship and succeeded. She'd been smart about it, even though it had been an island with no Navy presence and firmly within Whitbeard's territory. Brought her knives with her, just in case someone caught her and accused her of being a fool. Her walk into town had been uneventful like she'd expected. Nothing was in the way of her determination to spend every cent of her allowance—new clothes, new jewelry and a few new books. It was liberating to be able to pick out her own stuff and not have to ask Thatch to pick up things for her,

She would have made it back to the Moby dick well before nightfall with all her purchases, with nobody any the wiser to her unapproved jaunt if Marco and Jozu hadn't seen her enjoying a slice of cake at the bakery. Honestly, they wouldn't have even noticed her if Jozu hadn't happened to glance into the store via the big display window. Crocodile hadn't been stupid; she'd been sitting away from the front of the shop, keeping her back to the wall and remaining perfectly aware of her surroundings.

Jozu had given everyone else in the bakery a shock when he'd slammed open the door to ask her loudly what the hell she was doing in town alone. Furious didn't even begin to describe their reaction. Crocodile had barely been able to pay for her cake and grab her bags before they'd been rushing her back to the ship. She wasn't sure what they thought would happen in the ten minutes it took to get back to the docks that hadn't already occurred in the four hours she'd been wandering around town.

If Marco and Jozu had been furious, then Oyaji was apoplectic. Crocodile had been scared he'd give himself a stroke with how angry he was. Despite that, Crocodile hadn't been ready to roll over without a fight. Their proceeding fight had been a screaming match. On one side was the father, who wasn't prepared to admit his daughter was no longer a child and was more than capable of defending herself. On the other side was the sixteen-year-old daughter, tired of being shoved into a protective bubble of overbearing siblings and restrictions. Raven Newgate had always told her husband that he and their daughter were a lot alike in the worst ways sometimes. And she had been right, of course. Both temperamental and pissed off when challenged. Like unusually ornery bovines.

After the screaming subsided and Thatch had urged Crocodile to go cool off in her room, Whitebeard had grounded her for a month. Whitebeard put new rules into place to guarantee Crocodile had to be supervised heavily during her grounding and another month after her punishment.

Crocodile hadn't made the duration of her punishment pleasant for anyone on board the Moby Dick. Just like her mother had been when she'd been alive, Crocodile was a petty, vindictive person when she wanted to be. Oyaji had been prepared to extend her punishment until Marco talked him down, reminding him that she'd get worse if he did it.

She was still grumpy about it, even considering leaving the ship behind when she was eighteen at her lowest points of pissed off. It wouldn't be easy, leaving behind her home and the frustrating people she called family. But if she did, she wouldn't have to feel like a bird locked in a cage.

It had only been the voice of reason at the back of her head that, funnily enough, sounded like her forever unhinged maternal grandfather that had made her hesitate in making the decision. An amused woah now, little bird, don't be makin' any hasty decisions before you try reason first. She couldn't remember when, or if, she'd ever heard him say that before, but maybe he had said something similar to her mother at some point, and Crocodile had just overheard. Jamie had never called her little bird. That had been his pet name for Raven. He'd always called Crocodile his little snapping gator after she'd bit him as a baby.

But her conscience wasn't wrong, 'I should try talking to Oyaji without arguing with him first.'

She tells herself that, but it's another week before she pulls together enough courage –and patience– to try talking to Oyaji. Her anger has subsided, but the hurt still lingers. Hurt that he doesn't believe she was capable of defending herself. Hurt that he'd rather keep her tucked away and miserable. She knows where his irrational protectiveness comes from, and she gets it. But keeping her locked away won't bring her mother back to life, even as much as they both might wish that was the case.

The sun is just starting to turn the sky pink when she knocks on the map room door, waiting for an answer. A small part of her hopes that Oyaji isn't inside, breaking from his daily routine for once and sleeping in. That voice shuts up when his deep voice invites her inside, distracted and rumbly. With a steadying breath, Crocodile nudged open the door before her anxiety could get the better of her. Whitebeard is at the far end of the room, his broad back to the observation window that looked out the aft of the ship, seated on a chair that seemed too small to hold all of his considerable bulk. He looks up from the charts he's studying, blue eyes blinking and pale blonde mustache twitching in the only indication he's surprised to find his youngest daughter standing in the doorway.

"Crow," He placed the ocean charts he'd been examining closely on the table and gave Crocodile his attention, "I thought you weren't speaking to me."

Crocodile pursed her lips and walked further into the room, closing the door behind her, bare feet making no sound on the polished wood of the floor. "I wasn't." She admitted, shrugging at him, "Now I am." Looking at her, Whitebeard was reminded immediately of his late wife. Crocodile looks so much like her mother: the same blue-black hair, dark emerald green eyes, and olive-toned skin. But there was a tilt to her mouth and a glint in her eyes that was all him.

He was more surprised by her coming to see him before sunrise than her calm behaviour. Crocodile was not a morning person by any stretch. Trying to get her out of bed before ten was a struggle in futility. And Vista was the only one who'd ever managed it without a subsequent hissy fit. But if she was up this early and wanted to talk, she had something she wanted to get off her chest.

Whitebeard waits for her to speak, knowing prompting won't matter until his girl is good and ready. He could be patient. So he picked up the stack of charts again and continued to plan their next stop. Crocodile lifts herself to sit on the table, her legs folded. She shuffles a different stack of charts into a neat pile, gathering her thoughts into some semblance of coherence.

Finally, she spoke, deciding on a starting place, "I'm sorry I left the ship without telling anyone or without any of my siblings."

His daughter. His stubborn, feisty little girl...was apologizing. Willingly. Whitebeard panics internally for a split second. 'Oh my god, is she sick?'

He opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut when she glared at him—not done speaking then.

She continued, "But I'm not sorry I went ashore." She scowled at him, the anger she thought was gone burbling up once more, "You're being unreasonable, Oyaji."

Whitebeard dropped the charts back onto the table again, closed fist thumping against the table. He thought she was being too unlike herself. "Unreasonable?!" He barks, suddenly furious, "Do you have any idea what the Navy would do if they were to get their hands on you?" He pushes himself to stand, towering over Crocodile.

Just as quickly as it had come, the anger left his body. He reaches out and tilts her face up, saying softly, "In order to draw me out, they would not hesitate to execute you. Just like they did to your mother."

At the reminder, Crocodile wilts. She still has the vivid, stark memory of her mother's capture and execution. She remembered every moment of that horrible day three years ago. She shouldn't have seen it, but some part of her had known it was going to be her the last time she'd see her mother still breathing. Raven Newgate's execution had been a farce.

The navy and the World Government had wanted Whitebeard. They had wanted the Strongest Man in the World to bow before them. And they had used a woman whose only crime had been loving her husband (and petty theft) as a means to achieve that.

When Fleet Admiral Kong had slit Raven Newgate's throat, they hadn't expected the pure fury that followed. They hadn't expected Whitebeard's rage to be as destructive as it ended up being. For the Gura Gura no Mi to work in tandem with Whitebeard's emotions and sink the entire island. In the panic of evacuation that followed, Marco had grabbed Raven's body right out from under Kong's nose.

Crocodile doesn't say any of that to Oyaji. She doesn't have to. He knows she remembers. He remembers the long, painful, exhausting nights of trying to soothe his heartbroken, now motherless daughter into a fitful sleep.

Instead, she asks him, "Why train me to fight, to protect myself, if you aren't going to trust me to do just that?" The question was soft, her voice little more than a whisper, as much as it demanded an answer.

Edward Newgate felt weak. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that the best way to keep her safe was never to let her leave his side. Whitebeard silenced the voice and examined his daughter. He let go of her chin and smoothed a big hand over her hair.

Crocodile was not a fragile flower. Of that, Whitebeard was well aware. He watched her train with Vista and Rakuyo. Saw the strategies form in her eyes as she danced around her brothers, daggers flashing, carefully hitting with the flats of the blades and scoring against her skilled brothers with a savageness she had inherited from her mother's blood.

He doesn't doubt she'd be able to handle herself in a fight. But there's always that fear.

He leans down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, "I just want you to be safe."

"Safety is boring," She mumbles, "There's no excitement, no adventure, to be had stuck onboard a ship. I need some freedom, Oyaji, before I start to think that leaving when I'm eighteen is the only option." She leaned back, her neck craning so she could meet his eyes. A stubborn set returned to her mouth.

Whitebeard heaved a sigh as his hand dropped to the table, and his eyes fell to the side as he thought it over.

Encouraged by his silent contemplation, she reached out and squeezed his hand, "Everyone's always within shouting distance on any island we dock at anyway." Her reasoning is simple and accurate, and Whitebeard couldn't argue with it. She was too much like her mother at times like these. Pure logic and reason. And the irritating ability to make him feel like he was being an asshole.

He let her sweat just a little, though, and grinned when he saw she was getting impatient. "Alright, brat, you can start leaving the ship whenever we dock. Granted," He lifted one finger before she could get too excited, "It is not a Marine-controlled island, and you ask one of your siblings to accompany you on neutral islands."

Her eyes narrowed, and she mulled over his offer. She was prepared to argue but realized this was the best she could ask for. Oyaji wouldn't stop being protective of her, and she couldn't ask him not to worry on islands where a navy presence might show. That would be pushing it a little.

"Deal," She grinned brightly, "If it eases your mind further, I'll always carry at least one weapon."

Whitebeard laughed, "The thought does comfort me."

–

Whitebeard kept to their deal. He allowed Crocodile more freedom regarding leaving the ship and never insisted on her taking more than one sibling. If he had any problems with their arrangement, he never said anything to Crocodile about it.

Early one morning, they made landfall on a neutral island called Reed. Crocodile approached her brother Izo about going into town with her. He agrees readily enough, "Of course, love. Just give me a few minutes to go and check my ammo stock and see if I need to grab anything while we're in town."

Crocodile smiled at him, nodding, "Sure. I'll go and let Oyaji know that we're going."

"I'll meet you at the gangplank," Izo winks. Crocodile watched him walk off in the direction of the crew quarters before she headed toward the quarterdeck of the ship, where she could hear Oyaji's low rumble. Marco and Fossa were with him going over crew assignments, and all three looked up when Crocodile drew near.

Marco admired how his sister had changed in the past few months. Gone was any hint of the sulky teenager that had haunted the ship, snapping at all of her siblings and picking a fight with her father any chance she got. Replaced, instead, by a quiet vivaciousness and a pep in her step. A few months of earned freedom and a birthday had been a huge help. Seventeen years old now and like a whole new person.

Fossa doesn't seem to be looking at their sister through a haze of, 'Oh god, when did she get so big?' Like Marco is, his eyes returning to the chore chart, "Croco, you want laundry next week or kitchen?" he asked, and Crocodile shrugged.

"I'd prefer laundry. Feeding you bunch is dangerous; I'd risk getting my hand bitten off." Fossa snorted a quick laugh and marked her on the chart. She patted his shoulder and turned to Oyaji.

Oyaji placed one big hand on her head, and she looked up at him. "I'm going into town to do some shopping. Izo's coming with me."

Whitebeard nodded, "Don't forget your knives. And be careful; we spotted a navy battleship when we pulled in to dock."

She stood still as Oyaji kissed the top of her head, "I'll be careful."

"Be back before sundown."

–

"Anywhere else, love?" Izo asked as he stretched his arms above his head. He had a collection of bags by his feet as he waited for his sister to pay for yet another stack of clothes.

"Just the bookstore," Crocodile responded, thanking the salesperson as she bagged up her purchase. "The weapons shop is next door to it, so you'll be able to do your shopping while I browse."

Izo knew that he shouldn't allow her to go off on her own. But he would be just one door down and trusted Crocodile to stay out of trouble for half an hour while he restocked. "Fine." He picked up the bags at his feet, and together they left the store. The bookstore was only a few shops down. Crocodile reached out for the handle to push open the door, and Izo cautions her, "Stay in the shop until I come and get you."

"I know, I know," She waved her hand at him dismissively and pushed her way into the store. Crocodile took a deep breath, relaxing as she was hit with the scent of paper, wood and dust. The store is large, with rows of tall shelves filled with all sorts of books. The man behind the cash register greeted her, and she nodded at him, walking further into the store. Crocodile loved everything about bookstores; loved how they smelled, loved how they sounded. She could spend hours looking through each and every shelf, even if it were without the intention of buying anything.

She scanned the shelves as she walked, eyes lingering on the spines of the books, and didn't see the broad back in front of her when she turned the corner.

She bumped into the man and held back a quiet yelp when she bounced off him. She just barely caught herself from falling backward and landing on her ass. Her eyes darted, a cuss on her lips because what did she walk into, a brick wall? But her voice was lost when she met the gaze of the alleged brick wall.

He was easily four feet taller than her, broad and muscular, with a stern brow furrowed above his black eyes. Big hand outstretched in case she lost her balance. He wore a snap-back hat, a burgundy hoodie, dark pants and tall, tightly laced boots. And it seemed like he was equally at a loss for words.

Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Crocodile's part.

"You okay-?" He started to say at the same time that she said, "Sorry!"

Both of them snapped their mouths closed. Crocodile was charmed to see a faint hint of redness in his cheeks.

A flush ran through her body, and she resisted the urge to fan her face as the heat settled, "Sorry for running into you." Her smile was shyer than she'd like to admit.

He avoided her gaze, "I-uh, it's fine. Don't worry about it." He lifted a hand to the side of his neck, "No damage done."

Sakazuki couldn't pull his eyes off her but couldn't meet those big green eyes for more than a few seconds without a jittery feeling in his stomach. She was taller than most women he knew, a few inches over 6 feet. And man, was she pretty. She had long black hair down to her waist and a graceful, curvy figure. His gaze was caught by her lips, pretty and red.

She stared at him, her eyes half-lidded, unintentionally seductive. Pretty and sexy in the same breath.

He should probably say words, but he was worried about what idiocy would come out if he opened his mouth. Im comparison, she didn't seem to have the same problem, "Name's Crocodile. Well, it's my nickname. Or what my family calls me. My real name's Crow." She closed her mouth and looked perturbed. Bother by his lack of response? Or another reason?

"Sakazuki," Who said that? Oh, his mouth was open. It was him. "My name."

Her face lit up just a little, and his heart clenched. 'What the fuck is wrong with me?'

His voice was deep and rough, and a shiver ran down her spine at the sound of it.

They might have been standing too close together, and she knew if any of her brothers saw them, she'd be getting dragged back to the ship. He smelled good, though, and maybe she shifted closer. Tobacco smoke and something softer underneath. Something floral, perhaps? She couldn't really tell for sure. She pushed it out of her mind, knowing the scent would come to her later if she knew it.

She looked at the book in his hand and tilted her head curiously. It looked like it was about Grand Line weather patterns. "You a navigator?"

He shrugged, "Nah, just curious about something. Was seeing if I could find the answer."

She touched the cover of the book, tapping the title. She noticed his fingers tense. Crocodile peeks back up at him from under the thick fan of her eyelashes, "I've never read this one, but there is a good book by the scholars of Weatheria that covers a lot of the more unusual weather on the Grand Line."

He didn't hear the words, overwhelmed by her scent. A perfume? Whatever it was, it smelled like lilies, "Oh?" Sakazuki shifted closer to her.

Crocodile's mouth parted in a soundless gasp when she felt the heat of his body. "Not at all a dry read, either," Crocodile said softly, meeting his gaze. Something about him has a hold on her, and she can't figure out what it is.

"I'll have to check it out." He murmured. Sakazuki watched her reaction, captivated by the little shifts in her expression. He leaned closer to her hesitantly, eyes dropping to her mouth.

Crocodile's heart beat faster, unexpectedly giddy, anticipation blossoming in her chest when he started to ask her, "Can I–"

Before he could get the words out, their moment was shattered. A throat cleared behind Crocodile, startling them apart like they'd been electrocuted.

With a righteous rage exuding from every pore of his body, Izo's voice rang out, "I recommend you get the hell away from my sister." Crocodile glared over her shoulder at him and scowled when he continued, "She's seventeen! I don't know about you, but where we're from, a young lady should be no younger than 18 when one goes about seducing them." Izo gripped Crocodile's wrist and tugged her away from a startled Sakazuki and closer to himself.

Izo had always been one of the more dramatic members of Whitebeard's crew, fantastic at being both prissy and pissed off.

He backed out of the store, eyes never leaving the large man and pulled his now exasperated sister along. If he had turned for even a moment, Sakazuki would have seen the symbol of the Whitebeard pirates emblazoned on the back of Izo's kimono.

Crocodile rolled her eyes at Izo before tossing a grin over her shoulder at Sakazuki, still frozen in place. "Bye, good luck with your research!" His eyes jerked to her, caught off guard. She did something then she would later deny. She blew him a kiss, and her grin turned wicked when he blushed, eyes wide and startled.

–

Izo was still fuming when they finally got back to the Moby Dick, but all Crocodile felt was a strange measure of smugness and feminine pride.

Vista greeted them at the top of the gangplank, having drawn the short straw for supervising the returning crew, and raised his eyebrows at Izo's spitting rage. He shifted his gaze to his little sister and was greeted with a contented grin, like a kitten that had gotten into fresh cream.

Crocodile snagged all her shopping bags from Izo's clenched fists and flounced off to her room, humming under her breath.

"What's going on with her?" Vista asked, jabbing his thumb towards where Crocodile had disappeared.

But Izo didn't hear him, snarling, "Where's Oyaji?"

Vista blinked, "His cabin, I believe." He tilted his head as Izo stormed off. Izo being angry was nothing new. Too prone to dramatics. On the other hand, their little sister's behaviour was very unusual. Something about her smugness was familiar. Vista put his hand on his chin, gloved fingers smoothing his moustache as he considered. She had the energy of a woman who had just been made aware of her own sexuality.

As soon as he thought about it, his brain shut down. Thinking about sexuality concerning his youngest sister would only give him a headache.

Or nightmares. Rather abruptly, Vista decided that he'd rather not know.

At the aft of the ship, Izo slammed open the door of Whitebeard's cabin, "We have a problem," He announced, practically growling. Having just sat down for his lunch, Whitebeard, Thatch placing his food in front of him from a tray, lifted one eyebrow at Izo.

"A problem? With what? The Marines?" Whitebeard realizes abruptly that Izo had been the one to escort Crocodile into town, "Is your sister alright?"

Confusion breaks through Izo's anger. "What? Yeah, she's fine." His eyes flash, and he drops down to sit on the edge of Whitebeard's bed, staring at his captain, "Except she isn't because she was flirting with some guy in the bookstore." He didn't seem to care if he sounded like an absolute prude at that moment.

Thatch blinked and flattened her lips into a thin line. She tried desperately to hold back the giggle that was bubbling in her chest at the outrage on Izo's face.

Whitebeard scowled, forgetting about his food and barked at Izo, "Explain! Now!"

Izo explained what he'd walked in on at the bookstore.

"Who was this man?" Whitebeard growled and pounded his fist against the table, making the dishes jump and clatter noisily.

Izo shrugged, but Thatch, her giggles firmly under lock and key, lifted her hand, "Now calm down, the both of you. Crocodile's hardly a child."

"What does that matter?" Izo asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. Whitebeard stared at Thatch and waited for her to respond.

Thatch shook her head, "She's seventeen. She's gonna flirt with hot guys who catch her eye. God knows I did my share of flirting before Marco convinced me to marry him, and Crocodile will do her fair share before she settles down with someone."

Whitebeard didn't look pleased by Thatch's womanly insight, "And I'm supposed to just let her."

Thatch gave Whitebeard an amused look, "You think you can tell a seventeen-year-old girl, that seventeen-year-old girl, what she can and cannot do?" She lifted her eyebrows and gave Whitebeard a look that clearly said, 'Do you know Crocodile at all?'

Whitebeard cleared his throat gruffly, avoiding Thatch's eyes, "You may have a point."

"I'm aware," Thatch beamed, tapping on the table, "Eat your lunch before it gets cold, Oyaji." She left the room with a cheerful wave.

Izo sighed, "I still don't like it. But Thatch isn't wrong. Crocodile wouldn't take kindly to any rules regarding boys."

Whitebeard picked up his fork and dug into his meal, "She would not."