The wind tore across the high stone walls of Shiki's fortress, buffeting Crow's cloak around his shoulders as he crouched atop the parapet. Below, the clouds twisted like a living ocean, hiding the endless sea beneath. Every gust reminded him how precarious this fortress was—a massive moving island suspended in the sky.
Crow's hands gripped the haft of his practice spear, the golden flames of his Devil Fruit pulsing faintly as he stretched into a low stance. His movements were precise, his footwork careful—but he felt something off. Something… restrained.
"Again," a voice suddenly called out.
Crow jumped. Shiki was there, as if he had always been there, leaning casually against the edge of the wall. He grinned, eyes alight with madness.
"You're still stiff," Shiki said, voice sharp against the roaring wind. "Your movements aren't listening to the world, Crow. Every step, every swing—flow or you die. Do it wrong, and the universe itself will teach you a lesson."
Crow swallowed. "I'm doing my best."
Shiki's laugh cut across the wind like a blade. "Best? Bah! You're afraid of mistakes. Afraid to burn wrong, afraid to step wrong. Stop thinking. Feel it. Hear the world. Your Devil Fruit isn't a toy—it screams when you're wrong. Let it guide you."
Crow adjusted his stance. Golden life energy flared around him, reacting to every breeze, every stone, every tremor in the fortress. He could almost hear the pulse of the stone walls beneath his feet, the subtle sway of the moving fortress.
"Better. Not perfect, but better," Shiki said, vanishing before Crow could respond. One second he had been beside him, the next atop a parapet ten feet away.
Crow's jaw tightened. Everywhere at once… or nowhere.
⸻
Later, Crow descended to a quieter corner of the upper walls. Here he could practice freely, focusing on precise footwork and unleashing controlled bursts of his Golden Crow Devil Fruit. The wind carried his flames in ripples across the stone, and for a moment, he felt connected—like the world itself was whispering directions, movements, rhythm.
Yet still her name carried its weight through the wind from below. The gossip of the crew reached his ears as he moved to his second training ground, a secluded plateau near the edge of the fortress.
"She's here," one veteran muttered, a sneer twisting his face. "The beast herself. The one who kills men and drinks their will like wine."
Another added, "Big Mama? The whore who toys with men, makes monsters out of children, leaves corpses in her wake? She's here, she's massive, and the crew's running scared."
He merely adjusted his stance, noting the tension ripple across the fortress like a storm spreading. Even unspoken, the fear of LinLin carried far, and the crew's distaste for her was palpable. The whispers weren't about affection or respect — they were warnings.
It was then he noticed a figure tucked into the shadows. Katakuri, scarf lowered, sat alone with a giant donut in his hand. His jaw worked mechanically, snapping down on the pastry, his eyes scanning only the immediate surroundings. Crow froze. The boy's size was massive, but he radiated a kind of focused calm, entirely absorbed in his own moment of peace.
Crow's focus narrowed as he approached a quiet courtyard, a place he had begun calling his own. There, tucked into a shadowed corner, sat Katakuri. The eldest son of LinLin, half-hidden behind a crate, scarf pulled low over his face. He munched carefully on a giant donut, eyes flicking nervously to the empty courtyard.
Crow's lips curved slightly. He didn't move toward him, didn't speak. He simply trained, spear slicing through the air, ki-infused waves dancing along the weapon, as if to harmonize with the world itself. Katakuri's presence was ignored, yet respected — Crow's instincts told him this boy was fragile in his own ways, and that silence was enough.
Katakuri finished his third pastry, tugging his scarf back into place. His mouth twisted slightly—he had been found out before in situations like this, and his siblings' laughter still burned in his memory. This wall had become his escape.
He relaxed a little. The stranger, this new recruit Rocks himself had vouched for, didn't pry or tease. Crow simply existed, burning quietly like a forge that needed no audience.
For a while, they coexisted in perfect stillness. Until the sound of hurried boots cracked the quiet.
"Katakuri!"
Smoothie's voice carried long before she appeared—sharp, commanding, protective. The tall half-giant strode into view, silver hair tied loosely, her blade drawn more out of instinct than reason. She spotted her brother sitting alone—and another figure standing only a few paces away, heat shimmering around him.
Her eyes narrowed. "You again. The new brat Shiki's been testing."
Crow didn't answer. He shifted slightly to the side, maintaining his breathing, his spear still tracing arcs through the air.
"Don't ignore me," she warned, stepping closer. "You think it's fine to corner my brother up here? You're lucky Mama's busy or she'd—"
Katakuri rose quickly. "Smoothie, stop. He didn't—"
But she was already moving. Her blade cut through the air in a streak of light, her strength sending cracks across the wall's surface. Crow twisted, pivoting just out of range. The slash carved wind over his shoulder.
"Leave him alone!" she shouted, her grip tightening for another swing.
Crow's golden aura flared—not bright, but heavy. He met her next strike with the butt of his spear, redirecting her strength into the stone beneath their feet. The ground splintered under the weight of her power.
"Your brother came here," Crow said at last, voice low and even. "I was already here."
Smoothie blinked—his tone wasn't defensive or mocking, just a statement. It threw her rhythm off for half a second, long enough for Crow to step in and flick her wrist with a sharp parry.
Katakuri winced. "Smoothie, enough. You'll bring Shiki up here."
But she ignored him, pride flaring. "You think a new recruit can talk down to me?"
Crow exhaled slowly, his breathing pattern steadying again. "I'm not talking down," he said, and shifted his stance. "Just breathing."
Her blade came again in a wide arc. Crow met it head-on this time, ki flaring along his arm. The impact rang out like struck metal, the recoil sending both sliding backward. Crow's expression didn't change; his spear spun once, catching the light of the sun.
The wall shuddered from the clash, and below, the crew started shouting—bets, laughter, and surprise mixing in the air.
Katakuri's patience snapped. He stepped between them, arm raised. "Enough! Both of you."
Smoothie froze; she rarely saw her brother speak that sharply. Crow lowered his weapon a fraction, letting the golden steam fade.
"She was protecting me," Katakuri said quietly.
"I didn't need protecting," Crow replied.
Their gazes met for a moment—one burning with duty, the other with stillness. Then, slowly, Smoothie sheathed her sword.
"If Mama sees you draw blood, she'll have both your heads," she muttered, brushing past them. "Just don't let me catch you near him again."
Crow didn't answer. He returned to his stance. Katakuri lingered for a moment longer, adjusting his scarf.
"…You really don't talk much, do you?"
"No need," Crow said. "The world's already loud enough."
Katakuri gave a small nod—part respect, part curiosity—and followed his sister down the steps, leaving Crow once again alone on the wall, the air still faintly trembling from the exchange.
The walls of Shiki's fortress stretched high above the jagged cliffs, stone edges worn smooth by decades of wind and sea spray. The afternoon sun glinted off the parapets, scattering light across the courtyard where Crow had taken his post, training atop the fortress walls. Each strike of his spear, each movement of his foot, was precise, deliberate—yet chaotic in its intensity. The wind carried with it the distant sounds of the crew below, murmuring in disdain at the approaching presence of their looming visitor.
"Here she comes," muttered one of Shiki's seasoned pirates, spitting onto the stone floor. "The walking hurricane… the giant whore herself." Others nodded, their words bitter and crude, reflecting both fear and contempt. LinLin. Big Mom in her prime, five years before the chaos of God Valley. She wasn't yet the corpulent figure that legends would later describe—she was raw, towering, a living storm of strength and beauty. Her aura radiated dominance, the Soul-Soul Devil Fruit humming through the air like a chorus of restless spirits. The crew shifted uneasily; none dared approach too closely.
Crow sensed it immediately. Even before she fully entered the courtyard, his Golden Crow fruit flared instinctively. Every fiber of his being tensed, and golden flames burst from his form. Conqueror's Haki surged in his chest, steam of raw ki rising and coiling around him like a halo of molten gold. Reflexively, he unleashed a series of strikes, the tip of his spear igniting in golden light, cutting through the air with the sound of thunder. He didn't think; he acted, as the life within him reacted to the unnatural soul he felt—a force opposite yet eerily complementary to his own.
Charlotte LinLin, in her prime — tall as a giant, shoulders like cliffs, the sunlight burning through her golden hair like the crown of a goddess gone wrong. Her skin gleamed with vitality, the power of the Soul–Soul Fruit coursing beneath her surface like molten metal.
Her presence wasn't just heavy — it was alive. The air itself seemed to obey her, trembling under the thrum of her soul.
Then the air thickened.
It wasn't just her presence. It was her soul.
The courtyard walls seemed to twist and creak under invisible pressure as LinLin's laughter rang out again.
"MAMAMA~!"
The sound hit like thunder.
Katakuri froze. His mochi dropped from his hand and splattered across the floor.
Before either could react, the massive shadow of LinLin filled the training yard's entrance. Her smile was all teeth — white, sharp, too many to count.
"Well, well," she purred, gaze sweeping past her son as if he wasn't even there. "I smelled something sweet… something alive."
Her eyes landed on Crow.
"You. What a pretty flame you've got there."
Crow didn't answer. His body reacted before his mind did — instinct roaring through his veins like fire meeting oil. His heart surged, and the golden markings along his skin flared open like cracks in a volcano. The Golden Crow Flame erupted, his Conqueror's Haki slamming outward in defiance, and his ki steam burst from his pores in a violent exhale.
The ground beneath him cratered.
It wasn't a conscious choice — it was a primal response.
Her presence felt like death.
Like something that could erase souls
His fist struck with everything he had, the sound of impact cracking through stone.
LinLin barely flinched. Her hand caught his punch, the power behind it enough to kill, yet she spared him.
"You… your bloodline," she growled, voice low and possessed with a raw, greedy hunger. "I want it. I want you."
Crow stumbled back, overwhelmed by the force, pushed to the stone wall. He spat blood, flames licking at the air.
"Smoothie, bring him to me," LinLin ordered. Her command was absolute, but her gaze remained fixated on Crow, hypnotized by the opposing nature of their devil fruits—her Soul-Soul fruit against his Life-Golden Crow fruit.
A massive shadow split the space behind them. Newgate appeared, half-giant presence impossibly large, eyes calm yet unyielding. He stepped between Crow and LinLin, voice deep and steady.
"Commanders don't move against him. Not one step. Not a glance. You want to hurt him, you'll face the same treatment yourself."
LinLin paused, anger flashing. "I… I only want what's mine!"
"And what's yours ends with you," Newgate replied, unflinching. His gaze flicked to the side, where Captain John spat carelessly before turning away. "Commanders can't make any moves without me making my own. Your children, your minions—they can do what they will. You? You wait."
LinLin's lips curled in frustration, and for a heartbeat, she reassessed Newgate. Her grip on power was absolute among the chaos of her own crew, yet here was a half-giant enforcing rules with the weight of authority she could not breach.
Smoothie lowered her sword slightly, understanding the stakes. She shot a glance at Crow, the boy still bleeding but alive, still defiant.
Crow didn't speak, didn't move beyond the pain. His body had learned to process force and pain simultaneously. Newgate's rules allowed the younger generation to strike, but the older ones—LinLin included—were forbidden. He understood. He had to survive to grow, to learn, to eventually surpass all of them.
The chaos of Shiki's fortress carried on around them, rumors buzzing, smaller skirmishes between the younger recruits ignored. Crow's eyes traced the horizon, anticipating, training. He didn't yet know when Shiki would appear in his path, testing him in a different, chaotic way. That lesson would come later.
For now, the tension hung heavy. LinLin's appetite for Crow's bloodline burned in her gaze. Newgate's presence was the wall keeping that fire at bay. Smoothie's frustration was palpable, but she obeyed.
And Crow—Crow remained still, wings folding slightly, golden flames flickering with raw instinct, knowing the first step toward his chaotic growth had already begun.