A loud squeal shattered the sleepy atmosphere aboard the Moby Dick, and the galley door burst open with a bang.
Lerena dashed out onto the sun-warmed deck, barefoot as always, wearing a red skirt and a striped shirt stained with every color of the rainbow. Thatch's scarf was tied around her head, and in her hand she clutched a cookie.
She was currently executing a very serious mission:
Escape before the older brothers realize she stole a cookie before lunch.
Whitebeard lazily opened one eye, then the other. Seeing his daughter sprinting across the deck, he tilted his head slightly and watched the six-year-old with mild curiosity.
"Daddy!"
She stopped in front of him and quickly hid the cookie behind her back, putting on her most innocent expression.
"Well, well. Stealing sweets again?" he rumbled. "Little Ray, lunch first."
He wagged a finger at her and rested his head on his hand, waiting with interest to see what excuse she would come up with this time.
"But I didn't steal it," she protested. "I just borrowed it. And Thatch won't want it back later, so… no return!"
Whitebeard burst out laughing at the serious way she tried to justify the crime.
"No return, you little lobster?!"
Thatch's voice suddenly sounded from behind her.
Lerena froze.
Slowly she turned around, accidentally revealing the cookie she was still holding. Realizing her mistake, she squeaked loudly and darted around her father's chair, sprinting toward the stern as Thatch's heavy footsteps thundered behind her.
"Wait! I'll teach you what happens to thieves!"
The six-year-old grabbed the cookie between her teeth and began climbing the rigging like a monkey, scrambling up the mast where Marco was sleeping in his phoenix form.
She ignored the Third Division commander's shouting with a giggle. She would have stuck out her tongue too—but then she remembered the cookie in her mouth.
Gracefully she perched beside the sleeping phoenix, broke the cookie in half, and gently patted him on the head.
"Marco, I brought you something. Want it?"
She swung her legs back and forth as the phoenix opened one eye and looked at her.
"Were you in the galley before lunch again, yoi?"
The blue flames flared softly as Marco returned to his human form. Sitting beside her, he wrapped an arm around her waist so she wouldn't fall.
"Thatch is going to tan your hide one day, you know that?"
He took half of the cookie and looked at her with an amused smile.
She flashed him a disarming grin and bit into the other half, very pleased with both the successful rule-breaking and the complete lack of consequences.
"Pfff. I'm not scared of him!"
"I would be," Marco said calmly. "He'll get so angry one day he'll stop feeding you altogether, yoi."
"Well then I'll starve to death and then he'll see!" she declared stubbornly, apparently prepared for such a dramatic sacrifice. She paused. "But after lunch," she added thoughtfully, realizing that half a cookie hadn't solved the hunger problem.
Marco burst out laughing.
Conversations with six-year-old Little Ray were never boring.
"I'm hungry," she continued miserably. "When will there be food, Marco?"
Her golden eyes looked up at the First Division commander with deep tragedy—still peaceful for the moment, but clearly negotiating terms.
"When it's ready, Little Ray. The same time as yesterday and tomorrow, yoi."
"But I'm really very hungry," she pleaded sweetly. "Could I maybe have toast with jam? Don't laugh," she sighed dramatically, lowering her blond head. "I'm so hungry… I think I might actually die."
"That would be a terrible loss for the entire world, you know," Marco replied solemnly. "If you died, the Grand Line would dry up, the world would collapse, everyone would fall ill, and your Pops would be very sad, yoi."
He ruffled her golden hair as she stared at him in genuine horror.
"Daddy would be sad?!"
She gasped.
"Then I don't want to die!"She grabbed his sleeve urgently. "Marco, I promise I won't die, okay? But please give me something to eat. Anything!"
"You're very cooperative all of a sudden, yoi."
He stood up and lifted her into his arms.
"Let's go downstairs. Maybe Thatch can be convinced to give you something before lunch."
"He'll skin me alive and tear off my legs like… like a lobster!"
"Well, theft has to be punished," Marco said thoughtfully. "Besides, lobsters don't have their legs torn off. They're cleaned and stuffed, yoi."
"Eww! I'll never eat lobster again!"
"You've eaten it a thousand times already, so it's too late for that."
He tightened his hold on her.
"Hold on, Ray. We're going down."
Marco leapt lightly from the mast, landing beside Edward's massive chair.
The girl wrapped her arms around his neck and announced cheerfully:
"I'm going to the kitchen for toast so I won't die, okay Daddy? But don't be sad!"