Chapter Text
It’s another day in Loguetown, and for twenty-year-old Shanks, he’s got a steady stream of customers for once. He’d be thankful if it weren’t for one glaring fact.
“You look like you need help.”
Shanks shot a glare to the side, where an impassive Dracule Mihawk sat. Of the people in the shop, if they weren’t lined up for an order from Shanks, then they were there for Mihawk.
“Yeah, no thanks to you,” he grunted, heaving an axe off the grindstone. “Half of this is your fault.”
“You’re the one who called me.” Mihawk smartly pointed out.
Shanks muttered curses under his breath.
“Alright, alright! We’re closed for the day, please come back another time everyone!” he hollered, clapping his hands together. Ignoring the pleas and noises of disappointment, he gestured them out his door before locking it with a sigh.
“It’s not too late to take up your dream,” Mihawk noted idly, having hopped off the table he was sitting on. He gave Shanks a look. “I don’t think you to be an idiot.”
Shanks laughed, wiping his hands on his cloth. “Wow, a not insult from the great Dracule Mihawk. Should I mark this day down on the calendar?”
Mihawk rolled his eyes, though Shanks could tell he wasn’t annoyed.
“Besides, that ship sailed the day my mom died.” Shanks smiled wryly, tossing the cloth into a nearby bucket. “Gotta keep her legacy alive and all that.”
Mihawk sighed through his nose, and grabbed his hat. Placing it on his head, he regarded Shanks with a look before taking his leave as well.
Now truly alone, Shanks inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he let himself sag against the locked door.
So what if he wanted to see the world for himself? If he wanted to hop on a ship and explore the seas and oceans?
“Not everyone can get what they want,” he muttered. Untying the bandana around his head, he tossed it into the bucket alongside the rest of the dirty cloths.
Popping into the back, he called out: “We’re done for the day! Everyone give me your dirty rags!!”
Cheers and whoops sounded out, and Shanks was positively assaulted by flying cloths and bandanas that reeked of grime and sweat.
“Good work today, boss!” Yasopp grinned, clapping his shoulder as he passed by.
“Take care of yourself.” Benn noted rather sharply, prompting Shanks to paint a grin on his face.
“I’ll be heading out to get these in the laundry; you guys close up,” he said, tossing the keys over to Benn.
Hefting the bucket against his hip, he left through the backdoor and headed down the many alleyways to the laundromat.
“Oh my, hello handsome~”
Shanks froze, which was his first mistake. Almost instantly, there was a semicircle of girls around him, backing him up against a wall.
“What’re you doing out here alone?” one of them asked, a sweet smile on her face. “Need some company?”
She winked and the rest of them giggled. Shanks laughed it off, trying to spot an exit.
“Sorry girls, I’m just headed to do some laundry. Boring stuff, as I’m sure you’d agree,” he said, jumping a little when one of them grabbed his arm.
“Wow, you sure have some muscles! Do you work out?”
“Really?? Let me see—“
Before Shanks could truly panic, a smooth, velvet voice cut through the cacophony of noise.
“He’s with me.”
In a blink of an eye, he found himself guided away from the circle of ladies, a secure arm draped over his shoulder. A glance to the side revealed his savior in the form of a beautiful, tall woman, with white hair and sun-kissed skin. Her blue gray eyes never once left the group of ladies.
“We were supposed to meet up out in the front. You sure have a hopeless sense of direction,” she said, and he could tell it was directed at him.
“A-Aha, sorry, y’know me.” He laughed, taking the help, intentional or not.
“Eeh? You didn’t tell us, handsome!”
“How could you?”
Shanks swallowed, trying to figure out something to say. Though, his mystery savior beat him to it.
“Shouldn’t you ladies be at the parade that’s happening?” she said. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her aim a finger at them. They all froze up, clearly startled. “I’d hate for you to miss it.”
She swiped her finger to the side and the ladies scurried off rather suddenly, completely flustered the entire time.
Shanks found it hard not to gape. While magic was a well-known thing, he hadn’t ever seen it happen in real life until, well, now.
“Thanks for the help,” he said, managing to find the brain cells to say his thanks.
“Call it a repayment.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder a little and he blinked. “I have some pursuers you see. Act natural, just keep walking.”
Feeling a little terrified, Shanks nevertheless kept walking, letting her take the lead. Daring a peek back, he stiffened at the sight of the many crows.
“Don’t pay them any mind,” she murmured, and Shanks found himself relaxing. “Take a left.”
They sharply turned just in time to avoid the sudden rush of crows that had come from in front.
Their walk had turned into a light run, and Shanks had to wonder about the nature of these crows. It definitely wasn’t natural, so was someone controlling them?
“Hold on tight.”
That was his only warning when his feet abruptly left the ground. Holding in the instinct to scream, he stared blankly down at the ground, which was growing smaller and smaller.
“Keep on walking, come on,” she assured, grabbing one of his hands. “I’ll hold onto that.”
The bucket pressing against his hip disappeared and she held his other hand, holding his arms up in the air as she coaxed him to keep walking.
Pretty soon, he was delighted to find that yes, he was walking through the air. Grinning, he couldn’t help but laugh, resisting the urge to twirl around.
All too soon, their trip through the air ended, and Shanks found himself being gently lowered onto the ground— right behind the laundromat.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, giving him a soft smile. “Here you are.”
His bucket of dirty rags was pushed into his hands and he gaped. She had pulled it out of no where!
When he looked back up, she was gone.
«»
“I’m telling you!!” Shanks exclaimed, having invaded Mihawk’s workplace as soon as he was done with the laundry. A bag of freshly washed rags and bandanas nestled in the crook of his arm as he recounted the tale for the actor. “It was completely unreal!!”
“Sounds like you could’ve met Ásdís,” Mihawk drawled, steadying applying his eyeliner. “Which I should feel inclined to warn you, she’s rumoured to eat the hearts of many people, women and men alike.”
Shanks frowned, trying to connect the rumours of Ásdís to the beautiful woman he met earlier. Shaking his head, he decided not to think too much about it.
“I dunno Mihawk. I’ve never felt this way before,” Shanks mused, cupping his cheek with a hand as he thought about it. “Besides, Ásdís only goes after pretty people.”
Mihawk stared at him through the mirror.
Shanks threw his hands up into the air. “Oh come on!! I don’t know what those girls saw, they were probably just high!!”
Mihawk only stared some more.
“Dracule, you’re on in five!”
Getting up from his seat, Mihawk gave Shanks another look.
“You’re not horrible to look at, Shanks,” he said, voice and face completely devoid of any emotion.
Shanks grinned brilliantly anyhow. “Aww, it really is a momentous day!!”
“Fool.”
Later, when he returned back to the smithy, Shanks found Benn sitting right outside, smoking a cigarette and reading the paper.
“You really look like an old man,” he said, making the designer look up.
“About damn time. Laundry take you that long?” he huffed, folding the newspaper and getting up. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the keys and tossed it over. Shanks caught it easily enough.
“Cram it. I got back eventually, didn’t I?” Shanks grinned, swinging the keys around his finger. “Decided to visit ol’ Mihawk and kinda lost track of time is all.”
Benn snorted, shaking his head as he snuffed out the cigarette. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
Waving Benn goodbye, Shanks turned and unlocked the door. Locking it behind him, he set down the bag by a workbench. Lighting the nearest oil lamp, he prepared to tidy up the place before retiring for the day when he heard the door open again.
He paused. He had clearly locked the door.
Turning around, Shanks had to crane his neck back to see the man’s face. He wore a helmet that obscured his entire face, which defeated the whole purpose of him looking up, though his eyes were a familiar blue gray.
“Sorry, but we’re closed for the day, sir,” Shanks said, not bothering to put on a smile. Marching over to the door, he held it open and gesturing toward it. “Come back another time.”
The man had turned to face Shanks, and was regarding him like one would a bug.
“I’m King. Perhaps you know of me,” he said, the deep baritone almost shocking him as much as the name drop.
“Wh—“
Before he could say something, King was suddenly in front of him, a hand resting over his left eye—
There was a sharp, stabbing pain that had him crying out, stumbling back to get away from the source. He clutched at the left side of his face, positive that he’d feel blood, but he felt nothing.
“What- what did you do?” he gritted out, glaring up at King as best he could with one functioning eye.
“An eye for an eye,” King said. “You’ve got three days to find Ásdís. Fail and I’ll destroy this. Succeed and maybe you’ll get it back. And should you try to tell anyone, it won’t work.”
With that, King strode past Shanks and left. Still in a daze, Shanks headed for the bathroom, trying to find out what it is that King had done. Managing to open the door with a shaky hand, he flicked the light open.
Right now, he was staring into the mirror, one hand still covering his left eye. Slowly, he uncovered it, revealing three new jagged scars across his left eye. Or rather, his socket.
He stared at the gaping hole where his left eye used to be and then promptly passed out.