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He felt so heavy.
The rain had seeped into his body as he crawled up the beach, the storm still raging overhead. The devil fruit kept absorbing the water, trying its best to get Crocodile dry. The Suna Suna no mi, The devil fruit he stole from his fathers captains quarters after the long conversation about not wishing to be the next user of the Arashi Arashi no mi, he much preferred the heat of the desert over the chaos of a storm. He watched how the fruit had consumed his fathers mind, the devil fruit literally causing a storm of the mind and sending Rocks mad.
Rocks had told him it manifested as a serpent talking to him, telling him to sink allied ships and cause awful weather on sunny days, an ever present whispering demanding chaos.
“Don't trust anyone. Not even yourself.” He recalled his father telling him.
The Suna Suna wouldn't do that to him. The desert dunes were like an ocean to themselves and he would master them. His father was furious, lost his mind. Marines and Pirates alike had banded together to try and stop the storm he had started. The sharp rain pelts his body, the tempest that was going to consume God valley, Rocks truly was furious, insane perhaps…or was this the serpent causing this awakened storm.
The same storm that was now threatening to wash Crocodile out into the ocean. He felt a clump of sand crumble under the weight of the water, his right foot now gone. Focusing harder, he forces the Suna to draw new wet sand from the beach to reform his body but it just wouldn't stay, it collapsed. Not because it wasn't trying to keep his form but because Crocodile couldn't- didn't want anything of Rocks to be part of him. The storm was Rocks and so was the rain.
More of his leg disintegrated, the surf dragging the sand into the inky blackness of the water. God valley, what a joke. This whole place was cursed, forsaken by the gods. Only monsters were here now. Crocodile could feel Whitebeard's earthquakes shaking the ground; worse he could hear Kaidou and Linlins laughter even from here. None of them had tried to steer Rocks away from letting the devil fruit take him further, they had only seen his power grow and how they would benefit, but Crocodile did regret being the one to push him over the edge.
It was his waist now. Crocodile desperately began clawing at the ground. more wet sand getting under his fingernails as he frantically tries to do the impossible and get to somewhere dry. His mind still refused to allow the wet sand, the storm riddled sand, to become part of him. Even though his life was now on the line. It was up to his chest. What was the point?
He could still hear them clashing in the distance. He was going to die here.
Desperately he tries again. Tries to tell himself that if he doesn't focus he is going to lose his life and some grudge was nothing compared to losing here, he was going to be king of the pirates for crying out loud! Memories of growing up on Rocks ship flash before him.
Him always being in his fathers shadow. Rocks throwing him into battles he knew he would lose. Just watching as the crew stole from him, not letting him eat enough, bullying him. To build character he said. You are a pirate, he would be reminded. But he also recalls the day that one of the crew had pushed too far…
He was on the deck of the ship… it was raining… they had stolen all of his clothes… Cold…so cold… he had felt small… someone had gone to push him into the ocean… he had screamed… but within the next gust of wind he was wrapped in his fathers cape and there were new, lifeless, bodies littering the deck. Crocodile remembered looking up at his father as he carried him in the captain's quarters for the first time, how the weird marking over Rock’s left eye had glowed, reminding him it was not a tattoo and instead a symbol of the Arashi Arashi no mi growing control over what used to be his father.
And now Crocodile felt a sense of dark irony as he was being washed away by the ocean and storm together, struggling to recall what his body looked like. Did he look like his father at all? Were his arms still narrow? Was he still soft? Would he even recognise himself in a mirror? Would he still be a stranger to himself? Who was he… outside of his fathers shadow… outside of the shadow of the great storms…
Crocodile stops struggling… letting the waves lap further up his body, dragging the sand that was his form into the swell of the deep ocean, and the damp sand under him took what was left of his body, consuming him slowly where he lay. Where was he. What was he.
Crocodile had forgotten himself to the sand below him, ultimately saving his life but identity lost to the vast wet beach. Steps upon his body, no, upon the sand. Crocodile realises he can open his eyes as someone scoops him out from under the beach, the sand under had dried enough that he had found a form. It's still raining but not nearly as heavily. It is no longer a raging storm and more like a gentle cleansing of the earth. He could see red decorating the calmer ocean.
“Thank the seas i saw your hand… ah, it's broken…Hey…can you hear me?… you look pretty beaten up, we have a medic with us.”
A man. Crocodile was struggling to focus on the voice. His arms felt strong. Long black flowing hair. Sharp, angular face. Broken nose. Handsome. How he wanted to look. But by the uniform, a marine.
“I'm fine. Get off me. Where are the others?” Crocodile refinds his voice but it’s a little deeper? Better. More like he had always wanted. But the lack of pain in his hand confirms it is likely too late for the limb… how did he even get hurt?
“The other? If you are talking about the Rocks pirates, well, disbanded. I don't care if you are a pirate, you are hurt and a kid, I need to take you-”
A familiar shadow casts over the pair, Tall and broad with a naginata in hand. Whitebeard, bloodied but standing tall, proud.
“My son will be coming with me.”
The young marine looked confused.
“Son? She’s-”
A large hand on the marines shoulder quietens him and soothes the anger starting on the two pirates faces, as a man with a scar under his eye steadies himself - heavily injured but still smiling widely.
“Take your son and leave, Newgate. The Marines will clean up the mess here. Our understanding and agreement finishes when you leave the island. The deal is done.”
Crocodile is unceremoniously scooped out of the sand like a shell being plucked. He has no strength to fight back and knows better anyway, Whitebeard had always been strong. He is cradled like a mock image of a child in a cradle, he hates it.
Looking back at the two marines, he sees faint familiar outlines over the younger's left eye.
He needs to know.
“What's your name!” Crocodile shouts, using the last of his energy.
The older marine seems to glare disapprovingly as the other cups his hand around his mouth and shouts.
“Dragon! Monkey D. Dragon!”