is this your chain, or mine?

by Anonymous

Summary:

Buggy never expected to see his soulmate again, at least not if he could help it. He meant it when he said that they were enemies from now on.

Of course, then the bastard went and almost got himself killed—nearly ripping Buggy apart in the process as well.

In the stories the crew members told, meeting your soulmate was always a wondrous experience. When you saw them, you’d know instantly, the recognition of your other half a skill as innate as breathing.

The moment you met your soulmate, the world would change, becoming brighter, sharper, more in focus, they said. You’d change as a person, too. Whatever you were missing would now be complete. Whatever worries you had would become inconsequential since you had someone by your side to face them with.

A soulmate was something special, worth more than all the treasures in the world combined if all the poetic waxings were to be believed. So few people ever managed to meet their soulmates, which meant that those who did were often seen as paragons—as if there was something innately superior about them instead of just chance bringing two people together.

Personally, Buggy thought all of this flowery nonsense was stupid. A soulmate was supposed to complete you, make you better? No way. Buggy was his own person; he didn’t need someone else to drag him down. In his opinion, it was probably better to never meet your soulmate, or even not have one at all. What was so good about being forever attached to someone else, even when you didn’t want to be?

If anything, Buggy was an expert on all matters relating to soulmates. After all, he had been with his soulmate for as long as he could remember. There was no life “before” or “after” meeting his soulmate; they had just always been together, and Buggy had never known anything different.

This was why Buggy knew all the stories about soulmates were bogus. They had promised him that his soulmate would be sweet and kind, that they would make his heart flutter, and that he’d never want to be away from him. His soulmate, on the other hand, was self-centered and annoying. The farther Buggy was away from him, the better—not that stupid Shanks ever left him alone for long.

At first, the crew had just thought the two of them were close to each other. They were the only children on board after all. But over time, it became clear that there was something else, something deeper, connecting the two of them.

“Buggy’s hurt!” Shanks had yelled once, even though he had no way of knowing that. At the time, he had been shopping with Rayleigh while Buggy had gone off somewhere else with Gaban. They had been on opposite sides of the island, and yet, when Rayleigh had found Buggy and Gaban, at Shanks’ insistence, Buggy had been teary-eyed and holding his arm, which had a rough looking scrape at the elbow.

“How did you know Buggy was hurt?” Rayleigh asked, looking between the two apprentices curiously. Shanks was hovering worriedly over Buggy, even though Gaban was already halfway through cleaning up and bandaging Buggy’s elbow.

“I could feel it,” Shanks said. He pointed to his own elbow, the same one Buggy had just gotten hurt. “Here. It hurt, but nothing happened to me, so it had to have been Buggy.”

The crew put the two of them through a slew of ridiculous tests after that, but it was clear that they shared a soul bond, and a strong one at that. They could easily feel each other’s emotions, as well as find where the other one was, no matter how far away or well hidden a location was.

“What a blessing!” Captain Roger said, laughing heartily. He slapped Shanks and Buggy on the back, hard enough that the two of them went tumbling forward. “To think that you two would find each other here! If only everyone was as lucky, haha!”

Having a soulmate was supposed to be something amazing and awe-inspiring. Buggy, though, felt no different after finding out Shanks was his soulmate. If anything, it only made him more annoyed. So he could tell when Shanks was hungry or where he was hiding when he was skipping out on his chores, so what? He would have preferred actual treasure over a soulmate any day.

To Buggy, a soulmate was nothing special. He had never felt warm and fuzzy around Shanks, had never felt his heart skip a beat. Shanks was Shanks, a friend sometimes, a rival always, and that was more fun and interesting than a soulmate in Buggy’s opinion.

“Can you tell how I’m feeling right now, Buggy?” asked Shanks, wrapping his arms around Buggy’s shoulders. He was a warm weight against Buggy’s back, and the shade from his straw hat was a welcome reprieve from the hot sun.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions,” Buggy said, detaching one of his hands so he could hit Shanks on the back of the head. There was no need to use their bond with Shanks so close. His emotions were obvious in his body language and his voice anyway.

Still though, it was nice to feel Shanks’ happiness slipping through their bond, like the warm crackle of a fire. Buggy would never admit it, but he liked it when Shanks was happy, even when it sometimes came from teasing Buggy relentlessly.

A soulmate was nothing special, in Buggy’s opinion, but he didn’t totally mind having one either.

 

---

 

It had been over a decade since the captain died—since he had left Shanks behind in Loguetown—and Buggy was… doing alright, if alright meant still alive and not at the bottom of the sea somewhere.

He had a few years of bad luck at first, mostly due to scheming bastards who kept trying to steal what little treasure he had. Buggy didn’t know what made them think he was an easy mark, but a knife to the gut or another soft part of their bodies was usually enough to get them to back off. He decided to be alone for a while after that. Better to have no crew than a bad one anyway.

There had even been a stretch of time where he tried his hand at being a civilian. That lasted almost a year, way longer than Buggy expected, but the tedium of toiling away every day for so-so pay and without even a single interesting piece of treasure to be found just got to be too much for him in the end.

He had been doing better in recent years, though, especially since recruiting a few crew members. The Buggy Pirates might have been small right now, but they were mighty! Or at least that was what Buggy told himself. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and since he wasn’t dead yet, he could still keep going.

His bond with Shanks had been silent for years now. He assumed they were just too far apart to feel each other clearly, and while Buggy knew Shanks was still alive, he couldn’t pinpoint his exact location anymore.

For a long time, the only updates Buggy got about Shanks were through wanted posters and some articles in the newspaper. He and his crew were real rising stars in the pirate world, it seemed, with rapidly increasing bounties to match.

It was strange to see Shanks change, even if it was just in sporadic snippets, and not know how it had happened. The last time Buggy picked up one of Shanks’ wanted posters, he had to do a double take at the three deep scars now marring his left eye.

Buggy used to be able to feel it when Shanks got a paper cut or accidentally stubbed his toe, but now, a violent injury, one that had been serious enough to leave Shanks deeply and visibly scarred, had gone completely unnoticed. It made Buggy sick to his stomach when he realized it. Had he really not known? Had the pain not been bad enough to reverberate through their bond, even as stretched thin as it was now?

For a while—longer than Buggy would have liked honestly—he kept Shanks’ wanted poster with him, trying and failing to remember if he had felt any pain over his left eye over the last few months, the last year even. Buggy was no stranger to injuries, but there had been no pain where Shanks’ new scars were. He had burns on his hands and arms from bomb making, bruises that took weeks to fade on his shoulders and back from fights with enemies and even among his crew, but somehow his face had remained free from harm.

Stupid, Buggy thought, crumpling Shanks’ wanted poster in his fist. Not that that did much of anything. The paper was so creased and worn by Buggy’s repeated handling that Shanks’ face was nearly rubbed away. This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it?

Buggy had never wanted a soulmate, and now, with Shanks off gallivanting in some faraway ocean, it was like he didn’t have one at all. He should have been happy instead of driving himself crazy thinking about how he should have still somehow known about or felt Shanks’ injury. It just didn’t feel right to find out something so significant through a mass produced piece of paper.

It was useless to dwell on Shanks, though. Buggy had his own life to live, a better life even since he didn’t have to constantly feel Shanks’ emotions anymore. It was better that Buggy hadn’t been able to feel his pain. He could just suffer on his own, just like Buggy did.

Buggy threw himself into his own crew after that, something he should have been doing from the start. They were still mostly a ragtag bunch, but at least they weren’t totally broke anymore after a lucky break with a treasure map Buggy managed to swipe. Finally finding some treasure also went a long way with building loyalty, and there were now more voices calling “yes, Captain Buggy!” than grumbles about potential mutiny.

Then, one day, something began to change. It was nothing big, but it was still enough for Buggy to start paying attention. After years of silence, his bond with Shanks started picking up again, like a radio whose receiver finally caught a specific, wayward frequency.

Buggy still couldn’t feel Shanks’ emotions like he had before, but his awareness of Shanks had somehow expanded. It was clear through the bond that Shanks was much closer than he had ever been in a long time, likely somewhere in the East Blue, but maybe just an island or two away from Buggy himself if he could sense him so clearly.

For a moment, Buggy thought Shanks had come looking for him, causing his thoughts to spin more and more grandiose ways for him to reject Shanks and whatever it was he wanted. After a few weeks, though, it was clear Shanks wasn’t coming and likely had never been to start with.

Buggy didn’t want to see Shanks, especially since the gap between their abilities and achievements had grown into an insurmountable chasm, but he also hated how insignificant he seemed to be to Shanks. They were soulmates, and yet all Buggy had to show for it was a half dead bond to someone who probably couldn’t care less for him.

Whatever, Buggy thought, anger so hot it felt like his blood was boiling. His crew didn’t know what had triggered him, but they kept their distance to avoid being hit by a flying blade or singed by a hastily thrown bomb. I don’t care about him either!

In any case. Buggy expected their bond to blip out soon enough, going back into its usual dormant state. What business did Shanks have in the East Blue, the weakest of the four oceans, anyway? He’d probably only be around for a few more weeks at best, and then Buggy could go back to focusing on his own life, no unnecessary thoughts of soulmates to drive him crazy.

 

---

 

It had been a year since his and Shanks’ soul bond picked up again, and despite Buggy’s expectations, it never completely went away, even if it did grow quieter at times. At this point, Buggy assumed Shanks had decided to set up a long-term base on some East Blue island or another.

After a while, Buggy stopped thinking about their bond so much, especially since it seemed to reach a point of stabilization. As far as he could tell, Shanks never got closer, but he never went too far away either, especially not to the point where their bond cut off completely again.

Unfortunately for Buggy, he would soon wish he had been far enough away from Shanks to not feel anything through their bond at all.

It was a normal day, a good day even, since Buggy and his burgeoning crew had successfully stolen a treasure chest from another ship. Unlike the duds he had run into before, this chest was actually worthwhile, with genuine, high quality gemstones and valuable jewelry.

Buggy had been inspecting one of the gems, a beautiful transparent ruby that gleamed under the sunlight, when the breath was suddenly punched out of his body, like a giant boulder had suddenly slammed down onto him, crushing him under its massive weight.

Too stunned to even scream, Buggy collapsed onto the deck, eyes frantically searching for whatever or whoever had attacked him. His heart was rabbiting in his chest from fear, but the more he looked, the more it was clear that he was the only one experiencing anything out of the ordinary.

“Captain Buggy! Are you okay?!” Cabaji rushed to his side, with Mohji and Richie not far behind. Other members of the crew crowded behind them, curiosity and worry clear in their eyes.

Opening his mouth to answer, Buggy was cut off by an unbearable pain radiating from the left side of his body, leaving him unsteady and nauseous. Turning on his side, he threw up onto the deck, gagging on spit and acid as the agony continued to grow and grow.

Out of the corner of his eye, Buggy saw that his left arm had separated itself from his body a little bit above his elbow. For some reason, the sight filled him with a sick sense of dread, even though he had close to twenty years of experience splitting his body apart by now.

Something’s wrong, Buggy thought, panting heavily as he curled up into himself. Around him, his crew’s voices were growing louder and louder as they became more and more frantic. Something happened to Shanks.

It was the only possible answer for the phantom pain, which had struck as suddenly and unexpectedly as a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky. Whatever had happened to Shanks was bad, potentially even life threatening if what Buggy was experiencing secondhand through their bond was even half as bad as what Shanks was going through right now.

I’m fine! Buggy wanted to tell his crew, to get them to stop crowding him and shouting in his ears and in general just making the pounding in his head even worse. I’m not the one that’s hurt.

He couldn’t say anything, though, could hardly even string a coherent thought together past the pain and the rapid pounding of his heart, like a drum that just kept getting louder and louder. His chest felt like it was being squeezed by an iron fist, and it took all of Buggy’s energy just to keep breathing, sucking in tiny gasps of breaths until he was near hyperventilating.

“Captain Buggy! Don’t die!” With the shouts of his crew ringing in his ears, Buggy finally lost his hold on consciousness and let his eyes slip shut, allowing the blessed, painless darkness to take over him completely.

When Buggy woke again, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Hopefully just a few hours at most since he wouldn’t put it past his crew to not just toss him overboard if they weren’t able to wake him for days.

Lamplight filled the room, and over the next few minutes, Buggy felt his senses come back to him. He was in his room on the ship, which was a good sign at least. Next to him on the bed was a dozing Richie, his head and front paws almost pillowed on top of Buggy’s chest.

“Captain, are you awake?” The voice belonged to Mohji, who leaned over Richie to peer anxiously at Buggy’s face. “Do you need anything?”

“Stop crowding him,” Cabaji scolded from Buggy’s other side. His brow was furrowed, and despite his admonishment toward Mohji, he leaned in closer. “I brought you some water if you think you can drink it.”

With Mohji and Cabaji’s help, Buggy managed to sit up in his bed. It took him a few minutes longer to drink some water, and even then, Cabaji had to support the bottom of the glass with his hand to make sure it didn’t spill.

“Are you okay?” Cabaji asked, once Buggy had drunk his fill of water, which wasn’t much at all. “You really gave us a scare earlier.” Richie, having woken up amid all of the shifting, made a rumbling noise in agreement, nudging his head against Buggy’s hand.

“I’m fine,” Buggy said, which was true enough. It wasn’t his body that was the problem. It was Shanks, and the aftereffects of whatever had happened to him continued to linger. Even without pain overwhelming their bond now, Buggy could still tell that Shanks was unwell, the bond between them weak and dim, like a candle seconds from flickering out in a harsh wind.

Shanks was strong, probably one of the strongest people Buggy knew, but— What if he dies? Buggy thought, feeling nausea rise up from his stomach. Even Captain Roger had not been able to escape death. Who said Shanks would fare any better?

“I need you to prepare a boat for me,” Buggy said. He pressed his hands against his eyes, rubbing them hard enough until he saw a dizzying array of stars against his eyelids. His head still ached, and he wasn’t sure if he could even stand steadily yet, but he had to go. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

“What? What do you mean?” Even though Mohji and Cabaji tried to get him to lie back down, Buggy just pushed them out of the way irritably, splitting his body apart so he could float instead of having to support his own weight. “You just passed out on the deck a few hours ago! You can’t be feeling better already!”

“I’ll feel worse if I don’t go now,” Buggy said, closing his eyes tightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him again. What a pain a soulmate was, what a pain Shanks was, putting Buggy through this. “Just get the boat ready, or I’ll stab you both until you’re more holes than anything else.”

It took much longer than Buggy wanted, especially with how he had to make sure the ship was docked somewhere safe and that his needy little crew knew that he wasn’t just taking all the treasure they had collected and abandoning them (though he honestly should have with the fuss they were throwing), but in the end, he was able to set off on his little boat, going somewhere he never thought he would again in this lifetime: toward his soulmate.

 

---

 

The journey took almost two days, and that was with Buggy pushing his little boat to go as fast as it could. It helped that Shanks seemed to be mostly asleep now. There was still pain radiating through their bond, but it was more muted, manageable instead of overwhelming.

With his head mostly clear, Buggy followed the thread of their bond across the ocean, focusing on the spot in his mind that was Shanks’ presence. Buggy couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or if the glow of Shanks’ life was actually dimmer than before, but regardless he pressed forward, trying to ignore the anxiety tying his stomach into knots.

Don’t die, Buggy thought feverishly, the words repeating themselves over and over in his head. Don’t die. Don’t die.

If Shanks died, would Buggy die, too? Would the broken bond just tear Buggy’s mind and heart apart both? He knew he would end up a corpse in the middle of the ocean someday, but he didn’t want it to be like this.

The one time Buggy tried to sleep, just for a few hours so he wouldn’t lose even more of his senses than he already had, he was thrown into a wild, tempestuous dream, one that was filled with endless rain and blood dripping heavily from every part of his body, which split and split and split until it was impossible to tell that he had ever been whole.

Come with me, Buggy, he heard Shanks say, except this time the words were coming out of his own mouth, and it was his hand being roughly slapped away. By now, he couldn’t tell if this was his dream alone, or Shanks’ as well. After that, Buggy didn’t sleep.

Buggy knew he was getting close when he started to feel sick again, his growing proximity to Shanks intensifying the feelings radiating through their bond. Navigating by feel alone was already bad enough, but coupled with a growing headache and pain, it was a miracle that Buggy managed to stay on course.

It was dark when Buggy finally reached land, basically crashing onto the shore instead of any kind of smooth docking. Inside his head, his bond with Shanks pulsed angrily, urgently, like it knew he was closer to his other half than he had been for over a decade.

Stumbling out of the boat, Buggy knocked his knee against the side hard enough to bruise, wincing at the feeling of his own pain for the first time in days. Part of him hoped that Shanks had felt the injury, too, even as slight as it was, as payback for all the pain he had put Buggy through recently.

Buggy didn’t recognize the island he was on, but that hardly mattered now. What he needed was to get to Shanks. The bond made it easy at least, shining in his mind’s eye like a guiding beacon.

Any other time, Buggy would have been more careful, sticking close to the shadows and moving quietly to ensure that he wouldn’t be spotted. This time, though, he paid no mind to his surroundings, taking the shortest path possible to get to Shanks.

In the end, the bond led him to a small house somewhere near the outskirts of whatever village this was. Although most of the house was dark, there was one window with a lamp shining brightly. He’s here, it seemed to say, and even without seeing inside, Buggy knew it was true.

Pushing open the window, Buggy began to pull himself inside. Shanks was so close, mere feet away even, and this was the fastest way. It was only when he heard the sound of a gun cocking that he realized how stupid and shortsighted he had been.

“Who the hell are you?” A tall man with dark, slicked back hair stood before Buggy, a cigarette smoking from the corner of his mouth. In his hand was a rifle, pointed squarely at Buggy’s head.

“I-It’s not what you think!” Buggy stammered out, raising his hands in surrender. Cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck, and he had to bite his tongue to keep his teeth from chattering with nerves. Of course Shanks wouldn’t be alone and unprotected while he was injured; Buggy just hadn’t been thinking.

“What I think?” the man said. “I think you’re some two-bit thug looking to capitalize on our captain’s bounty. Not sure how you found out what happened, but I’ll make sure you take it to your grave.”

Maybe it was luck, or just pure instinct, but Buggy barely managed to split his body in time to avoid being hit by a bullet. “If you hurt me, you’re going to hurt him, too!” he shouted, his body parts flying in all different directions in a desperate attempt to avoid being shot at again. Hopefully, he’d only get hit in somewhere mostly non-essential, like his shin, instead of right through his chest.

Thankfully for Buggy, the room was relatively small, and a few of his body parts, including his head, managed to end up on the bed where Shanks was lying.

If Buggy had thought that Shanks was bad off based on how their bond felt, looking at him was even worse. He was pale and haggard, almost lifeless except for the unsteady movement of his chest. His red hair, usually so vibrant and fiery, was so washed out that it looked nearly gray.

The image of Shanks before him blurred before it was completely covered by a film of tears. Stupid Shanks, Buggy thought as tears spilled out of his eyes. What did you do?

Reaching out, Buggy had barely managed to touch Shanks’ arm before he felt the muzzle of a rifle press itself against his head. “I’ll give you one chance to get away from my captain before I blow your head off.”

Buggy wanted to scream at the man, probably some trusted member of Shanks’ crew, that he had more of a right to be here than anyone else. This was his soulmate. Shanks was his, and no one else’s. If anything, Buggy should be threatening him to go away instead.

“Buggy?” The voice was weak and hoarse, but the sound of it was still unmistakeable to Buggy, even after all these years. Turning his face, Buggy was greeted by the sight of Shanks opening his eyes, blinking slowly as he got his bearings.

Behind Buggy, the gun that had been pressed to his head slipped away. “Boss?” the man asked, his voice sounding incredulous. Buggy ignored him, all of his attention focused on Shanks instead.

“Yeah,” Buggy said. “It’s me.” Pressing his forehead against Shanks’ arm, he let out a shaky breath. His tears fell more and more rapidly, wetting the bed sheets under him. “I’m here.”

Finally, the bond between them felt whole again, like it had when they were children, before they had gone their own ways. After so many years, Buggy had almost forgotten what it felt like.

 

---

 

“Boss?” It was a new voice, different from the man who had been in the room before. “Are you still awake?”

Buggy didn’t move from where he was on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but that didn’t matter as long as he could stay in contact with Shanks. He buried his face against Shanks’ side, breathing in the smell of blood and antiseptic, and underneath it all, the still familiar scent of Shanks’ skin.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” Shanks said, sounding more alert than before. He let his arm fall over the back of Buggy’s shoulders, almost like a protective shield against prying eyes. “How long was I out?”

“Two, almost three days,” the voice said, followed by the sounds of a rustling bag and unknown instruments being moved around. “You were damn lucky to make it back to shore with your arm like that, especially since you were carrying Luffy, too. The emergency surgery was hell.”

“Sorry,” Shanks said, though the slight laugh in his voice made it clear that he didn’t regret his actions at all. Buggy had hated that about him when they were still together, how he would make light of everything, even situations that put him and everyone around him in mortal danger. “It was the only option I had.”

A heavy sigh, which was more restrained than Buggy had ever been when confronted with Shanks’ idiocy. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean that you didn’t scare us all half to death. Luffy was almost inconsolable when we took you away.”

That got a twinge of guilt from Shanks at least, the feeling loud and clear through their bond. “I’m okay now,” he said. “I knew you’d be able to take care of me, Hongo.”

There was an irritated mutter from the other man, but Buggy didn’t manage to make out the words. “Let’s see if you’re actually okay,” Hongo said. “I’m surprised you’re even awake right now. I had a hell of a time trying to get your fever down these past few days.”

Curiosity got the better of Buggy, and he floated his head up slightly, just high enough to see over Shanks’ body, but hopefully not high enough to be spotted right away. He hadn’t noticed it before since Shanks had been covered by a blanket, but bandages covered the right side of his body, starting from his shoulder and going down to his —

“Your arm!” Buggy shot up, floating the top half of his body over the bed so he could get a better look at Shanks’ injury without jostling him unnecessarily. “What the hell did you do?!”

The memory of his own arm detaching itself without warning or notice, how it had felt alien and wrong even when he should have been more than used to splitting himself apart by now, hit Buggy like a sudden wave, and he immediately felt sick to his stomach.

His outburst gained him the attention of everyone else in the room, and Buggy shrank back, tucking himself back against Shanks’ side, as if that would be enough to hide him from their piercing gazes.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Shanks tried to say, looking down at Buggy with big, plaintive eyes. It made him look like a contrite wet dog, and it only made Buggy angrier than before. Those stupid puppy dog eyes had barely worked when they were kids, and they certainly weren’t going to work now.

“Losing an arm isn’t as bad as I think?” Buggy snapped, unable to help himself. “You’re not like me, idiot! You can’t just split your limbs and put them back. You could’ve died! I felt what happened! Don’t you dare try to brush this off like you do with everything else!”

“Anyone want to tell me who this is?” Hongo asked, cutting Shanks off before he could try to defend himself. He looked between Buggy and Shanks, one eyebrow rising higher and higher. “Is this the guy you shot at earlier, Benn?”

Benn shrugged. “Yep. Would’ve succeeded too if the boss hadn’t woken up. He seemed to recognize the guy, though, and by that point, it was more important to get you instead.”

If Buggy was being honest, he didn't know how to identify himself, at least not to these people. He and Shanks were a lot of things to each other, but all of them were complicated and frustrating, and quite honestly, not anything that Buggy was ready to admit aloud to anyone who hadn’t already known the both of them before they separated at Loguetown.

In the end, Shanks took the decision out of his hands. “Buggy’s my soulmate,” he said, which was the worst possible answer he could have given—if his crew members believed him at all.

Buggy buried his face in his hands. “You’re so stupid.” Leave it to Shanks to reveal something so private without even thinking about the potential consequences.

“The one who left?” Benn asked. Something in the tone of his voice made Buggy want to speak up or defend himself from some unspoken slight, but considering how close Benn’s finger was to the trigger of his rifle, Buggy wisely refrained this time.

“Soulmate, huh…” Hongo said, looking between the two of them again, but with significantly renewed interest in his eyes. “I thought it was weird how quickly your vitals seemed to have recovered since I last checked on you, but could it have been…” He trailed off, mumbling something or another under his breath.

“Soulmates don’t always stay together,” Shanks said, addressing Benn. It sounded like a refrain he had told himself over and over again. “It’s fine. Buggy’s here now, isn’t he?”

Benn turned to look at Buggy, his gaze dark and assessing. Even though Buggy could feel himself faintly trembling under the intimidating aura, he held his ground, putting as much venom as he could into his glare. No matter how he felt about being Shanks’ soulmate, it was something that no one else ever would be, and that put him in a position of power, no matter how limited and unstable it might be right now.

“If it’s fine with you, then it’s fine with me,” Benn said. The filter of his cigarette as he took a deep inhale shrunk significantly, the only visible sign of his continued agitation.

“Let me finish your check up at least,” Hongo said, finally pulled out of whatever reverie he had been in a few minutes earlier. He cast a glance Buggy’s way, too, and this time, it was the open curiosity in his eyes that made Buggy want to shrink back. “I’d also like to do one on… Buggy, was it? If you’re okay with it.”

“Why?” asked Buggy warily, shifting so he could use Shanks’ body as a shield from the other man if necessary.

Just a few months ago, Buggy and his crew had run into a quack doctor that tried to harvest his organs for the black market. Too bad that he kept splitting his organs apart until they were basically useless until he could escape. As it was, he had a healthy suspicion of doctors now and wasn’t too keen on letting one near him anytime soon. The only exception was probably Crocus, and it would be a one in a million chance to see him again.

“Hongo won’t do anything weird,” Shanks reassured Buggy, though the effect was limited by how he winced as the doctor adjusted his injured arm. Even if it was an accidental pain, it still reverberated to Buggy through their bond, causing him to flinch as well. “But, let’s leave it for tomorrow if anything, okay? I know it’s late.”

Hongo finished up his check up a few short minutes later, scribbling down some notes in a small journal he pulled out of his bag of supplies. “Your fever is definitely down, but I’ll draw some blood tomorrow to check on your infection more closely. I’ll also give you a painkiller before I let you go back to sleep.”

After he helped Shanks drink some water to wash down the medication, Hongo turned to Buggy. “I’ll give you a check up tomorrow. It won’t be anything strenuous, I promise.” And before Buggy could protest that he hadn’t agreed to that at all, Hongo was leaving the room with a wave of his hand. “Call me if anything else happens tonight!”

The silence that followed was awkward, and Buggy swallowed thickly, his throat dry and tense. He had been so focused on getting to Shanks that he never planned for what would happen next.

Shanks was the one who eventually broke the silence. “I’m okay, Benn,” he said, giving the other man a smile. “You don’t have to stay with me tonight. I’m sure you need to get some rest, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about Buggy,” Shanks added, his voice firm. His hand, the only one he had now god, tangled with Buggy’s own, pulling him further onto the bed. “He won’t do anything to hurt me.”

Based on the heavy silence that followed, it was obvious that Benn wanted to protest, but in the end, he gave in to his captain’s wishes. “If you say so, boss,” he sighed. “I’ll be right in the next room, though. No farther than that.”

A few moments later, they were left alone in the room. “C’mere,” Shanks said, tugging gently at Buggy’s arm. “Come lie down with me. Or sit on the chair at least. The floor can’t be comfortable.”

Although the chair probably would have been the better choice, part of Buggy still wanted to be as close to Shanks as he could. It was clear that he wasn’t dying now, but he was still hurt, and that caused an ache in Buggy’s chest, separate from whatever physical pain was being shared between them right now.

So he went, climbing fully onto the bed next to Shanks. It wasn’t a huge bed, and they had grown much larger than the last time they slept together, but with a few adjustments, they made it work. If Buggy was being honest, it wasn’t even the worst or most cramped space the two of them had slept in together.

“You look awful,” Shanks said, though the shaky smile on his face was at odds with his words.

Buggy scowled. “It’s your fault, idiot. You’re the one who got your arm ripped off!” Buggy had no clue what he looked like right now, but he was sure Shanks wasn’t wrong. He had barely slept, his hair was a mess, and he didn’t even have any of his makeup on since he had wanted to travel without attracting any notice.

“Sorry,” Shanks said, and this time, he almost sounded like he meant it. “You shouldn’t have had to feel any of that.”

“It’s not about me feeling it,” Buggy argued, though the pain had been horrifying and he never wanted to go through something like that again. “It’s about you getting hurt in the first place. You’re always so reckless when it comes to your own safety!”

“I was making a bet on the future,” Shanks said, which made no sense to Buggy at all. For a moment, he looked pained, turning his eyes away from Buggy. “I don’t regret what happened, but I’m sorry you had to feel it, too. It’s my fault for opening up the bond again, just a little bit. I just couldn’t resist since I knew you were in the East Blue and it had been so long …”

It took a few seconds for Buggy to process Shanks’ words, but when he did, one thing stood out to him like a blaring alarm. “What do you mean ‘opening up the bond again?’ Did you close it? Can a soul bond even be closed?!”

Shanks winced at the volume of Buggy’s voice, but he still tried to placate him. “I’m sorry,” he said again, a useless phrase that held little meaning with how often Shanks said it and still never meant it. “Someone taught me how to do it, someone who had also separated from their soulmate. They said it was better that way, instead of constantly being in each other’s heads no matter the distance. I didn’t think you’d want to be reminded of our bond if possible.”

“It was my mistake to open it again,” Shanks said. At least he was looking at Buggy now, instead of hiding from what he had done. “I hurt you, and that shouldn’t have happened.”

“You idiot!” Buggy was trembling with anger, and it was only by sheer willpower alone that he stopped himself from shoving Shanks. Shanks was still injured, and any pain Buggy inflicted on him would only be reflected back on himself. “How dare you make that decision for me! How would you know anything about what I want?!”

Against his will, Buggy felt tears pricking at his eyes again—from Shanks’ lack of his consideration, his utterly boneheaded belief that he was doing what was best for Buggy. However, what had started as frustration soon deepened into anguish. Tears fell faster and faster until Buggy’s face was soaked, until all he could do was curl over and heave from how heavily he was sobbing.

“Buggy…” Shanks’ arm curled over Buggy’s shoulders. He wanted to shove Shanks away, but he didn’t have the energy. As much as he hated Shanks right now, his touch was still comforting in its own way. It had been so long since they touched each other.

“I thought it was just the distance,” Buggy mumbled, feeling a little bit delirious from all of the tears. “I thought it was too far for me to feel you. But no. You just didn’t want me to feel you. You didn’t want me to be with you at all.”

How galling to be rejected so thoroughly by his own soulmate. Shanks obviously didn’t see it that way, probably believed that he was doing Buggy a favor. But all he had done was make things worse for Buggy, to torture him without even realizing the amount of harm he was inflicting.

“Do you know how I felt,” Buggy said, raising his voice so he could be heard. Maybe he was even shouting, but it didn’t matter as long as Shanks heard him and the words got through his stupid, thick skull. “When I saw your wanted poster and you had those scars on your face? You were injured badly enough to be scarred, and I didn’t even know. I didn’t feel a thing, even though I should’ve. I should’ve known when it happened, not months, maybe even years after.”

Buggy lifted his head, even though he knew that his face was still a mess of tears. “No matter what happens, no matter how much I hate you at times, you’re still my soulmate. Mine. And I deserve all of you. Every single emotion or injury or anything else. It’s all mine, and no one gets to take that away from me, not even you.”

Shanks’ face was conflicted, and the mess of his emotions through their bond was no better. It was too difficult for Buggy to parse out how he felt, so he didn’t bother. “Don’t close off the bond anymore,” Buggy said. It was a command, not a request, and he was going to make sure it came true, even if he had to forcibly pry open their bond himself.

For a few minutes, Shanks was silent before he exhaled a huge, shuddering breath. When he finally turned toward Buggy, his eyes were wet, though no tears fell. “Okay,” he said, instead of sorry for once. “I’ll make sure it stays open. No matter what.”

This time, Buggy was the one to pull Shanks toward himself, pressing their bodies together tightly, like he was trying to make them one person. He pressed his face against Shanks’ bare shoulder, not wanting to look at him anymore, but still wanting to feel him at least.

“You’re mine,” Buggy said, wanting Shanks to remember, willing him to remember. And I’m yours. The last part he sent through their bond, as loudly and clearly as he could. Hopefully, this time, Shanks would understand.

 

---

 

Buggy wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, it was clear that several hours had passed. Based on how much sunlight was in the room, it was probably late morning.

Shanks was still on the bed with him, though Buggy felt him through the bond first more than anything else. After over a decade of near-total silence from the bond, it was strange to feel it so active now, humming with Shanks’ emotions.

“—when we’re touching.” Shanks was speaking, but Buggy couldn’t quite understand the words in his sleep-fuzzy mind. Not wanting to get pulled into whatever conversation that was being had, he pressed his face further into the pillow underneath him.

“Huh, that’s interesting,” another voice said. It sounded like Hongo, the doctor from last night, though Buggy couldn’t be sure. “How much of a decrease would you say? On a scale of one to ten.”

“Hmm… maybe a seven to a three? Or even less than that honestly. It’s more like, there’s pain to notice at all and then basically nothing. I just don’t feel it if I’m in contact with Buggy.”

The conversation continued for a little while longer, and Buggy let himself drift off again. Even though he had gotten a decent amount of sleep, it still wasn’t enough to completely make up for the sleep deprivation he had faced the last few days trying to get to Shanks as quickly as possible.

A nudge against Buggy’s shoulder pulled him out of his doze, though he tried to ignore it at first. “He’s gone, you know,” Shanks said. “You won’t be pulled into a check up anytime soon, if that’s what you were worried about.”

Turning over onto his side, Buggy looked up at Shanks. In the light of the day, he looked much better than he had the night before. Gone was the sallow skin and limp hair, and in their place was a healthy peach tone and a vivid red hue. If Buggy didn’t know better, he would have assumed that Shanks had never been injured at all.

Of course, there was still the matter of his missing left arm, something that couldn’t just be waved away.

“Buggy? You okay?” Leaning over Buggy’s prone form, Shanks brought his face closer to Buggy’s until their foreheads were nearly touching. “Are you still tired?”

Although they had spent the night together, Buggy wasn’t used to Shanks, or really anyone, being so close to him anymore. Turning his head away to avoid Shanks’ too close gaze, he said, “I’m fine.”

Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupted any potential conversation they might have had. “I’m coming in, boss.”

“Ah, Benn, morning!” Shanks greeted cheerfully. “I hope you were able to get some rest last night.”

“Yeah, I got a good couple hours,” Benn said. “Wanted to see if you were up to talking about some things about the crew and our next steps.” He cast a brief glance at where Buggy’s face was peeking out from the bedsheets. “Alone, if possible.”

Hint received loud and clear, Buggy pushed himself off of the bed. The absence of Shanks’ skin against his side was almost startling after a whole night together, but Buggy ignored the feeling as best as he could. “I should go,” he said, hands pulling at the mess of his hair so he could retie it into something resembling neatness. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your business.”

“You don’t have to leave, Buggy,” Shanks said, just as Benn cut through with a sharp, “Boss.”

“He’s my soulmate,” Shanks said, like that actually meant anything about Buggy’s trustworthiness or whether he should be privy to another crew’s private matters. Any other time, Buggy was sure he would have gladly taken advantage of Shanks’ unwavering faith in him. This time, though, he knew it was better to tread cautiously.

“I have some things of my own to take care of,” Buggy said. He wished he could find a bathroom to take a shower or wash his face at least, but it was probably better for him to leave sooner rather than later.

There was a twinge of unease through the bond, and Buggy paused, turning back to look at Shanks. Their gazes met, and for a moment, it was like they were kids again, having silent conversations that they could only understand.

“I’ll be back later,” Buggy said. “I’m not leaving just yet.” He felt a wave of warmth flow through the bond, which he chose to interpret as a thank you.

“That’s good,” Shanks said, his voice as warm as the bond had been just moments earlier. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Not really wanting to go past Benn, or risk running into any of Red-Hair Pirates, Buggy headed toward the room’s window, which was still open from the night before. Right as he was about to pull himself through the frame, Benn’s voice stopped him.

“If you need anything from the crew, feel free to let them know,” Benn said. “You can tell them that Benn or Shanks sent you. They’ll be at Partys Bar further down in the village.”

“… Sure.” Buggy wasn’t quite sure what to make of the offer, especially one as open as this one seemed to be, but he nodded in acceptance anyway. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could squirrel away some of Shanks’ treasure that way.

He made his escape after that, trying to retrace his steps from the night before to get back to his boat. In the daylight, it was clear that the village was tiny, quaint almost. It was more farmland than anything else, with the only notable feature in the landscape being a few windmills here and there.

With a village this small, there were only a few places where Buggy could have reasonably crash landed, and he managed to make it back to his boat a short while later. Thankfully, it was still intact despite the rough handling he had put it through the last few days, and even better, it seemed like no one had swiped any of the meager possessions he had brought along, even if they were strewn all across the bottom of the boat now. Maybe that wasn’t really a worry in a tiny, backwater place like this, but Buggy knew that he would have come back to an empty, and likely dismantled, boat in most other places.

Buggy quickly got to work on the boat, dragging it further up the shore and into a copse of trees so it was at least partially hidden from other people.

As he cleaned up the boat as best he could, Buggy could feel embarrassment slowly but surely well up inside of him, something that was probably obvious to Shanks as well through their bond. He had been running mostly on instinct alone these past few days, but now that he had time to actually stop and consider his actions more deeply, all he could feel was regret, which was rapidly becoming overwhelming.

Buggy wasn’t a quiet or a subtle person most of the time, and when his emotions got too much to handle, he had to find an outlet or just go crazy. The mortified scream he let out, even as muffled as it was by his hands, was loud enough to startle the birds out of the nearby trees

“Why did I think it was a good idea to come here?!” Crouching down, Buggy curled into himself, his feelings of shame manifesting physically. He wanted to bang his head against the side of the boat, but the fact that Shanks would likely feel that, too, had him refraining. “And everything I said last night! UGH.”

Even as bad as Shanks had looked the night before, he was much better this morning. Shanks was strong, and even though his injury had been severe, Buggy should’ve known that he would be fine. There was no need to travel all this way to check up on him.

Thinking about how frantic and desperate he had been to get to Shanks, Buggy cringed even more. Even worse was how angry he had gotten about finding out that Shanks had purposely closed off their bond. Hadn’t that been a dream of Buggy’s once upon a time? When had that even changed?

“Stupid!” he scolded himself, detaching his fists so he could hit himself on the head over and over. Thankfully any animals in the area had long scurried away from the noise, so there was no one to watch him embarrass himself. “You’re so stupid!”

Honestly, Buggy shouldn’t even be here right now. It’s not like Shanks needed him around anyway. He had more than enough crew members to look after him, and Buggy was just … there. Getting in the way. As usual.

A tentative tug on the bond pulled Buggy out of his spiraling thoughts. Are you okay? the bond seemed to say, a thread of worry coming through as well.

Worn out from the mess of his feelings, Buggy just sent back a quick and sharp jolt of emotion. It was how he would respond to Shanks as a kid, when he kept annoying Buggy by prodding at him through the bond over and over again. The jolt meant yes, I heard you and stop bugging me all in one.

There was a tap back on the bond, a confirmation from Shanks, before it went mostly quiet again. Mostly since there was still an undercurrent of pain from Shanks’ injury. Buggy hadn’t noticed it while they were together, but now that he was alone, it was much more apparent.

Maybe I should just leave now, Buggy thought with a sigh as he flopped back onto the ground. He had already accomplished what he set out to do, right? He had found Shanks and made sure he was still alive. He was fine, and it was ridiculous for Buggy to stick around any longer.

On the other hand—it was obvious that Shanks still wanted him here, maybe even expected him to stick around for a while. I’ll see you later then, Shanks had said, and he had sounded happy. He had felt happy, and that wasn’t something that Buggy ever imagined he would ever experience through the bond again, not after how they had separated.

I’ll stay just a little longer, Buggy thought, though part of him was sick at how easily he had been swayed by Shanks, the warm glow of his happiness when he was around Buggy. It was like being a kid all over again, and Buggy didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

 

---

 

After wallowing on the beach for a while, Buggy picked himself up with a sigh, brushing the sand from his clothes with a well-practiced hand. It was too soon to go back to the little house where Shanks was staying, so he planned to wander around the village a little, maybe see if he could get some food in him at the very least.

There wasn’t much in the village, just a few shopfronts here and there, but Buggy stopped at the one he recognized, if only vaguely: Partys Bar. It was where Benn had told him to go if he needed anything from the Red-Hair Pirates—not that he was planning to get involved with them if he could help it.

A bar would probably have some food though, and maybe if he was lucky, there would be a den den mushi he could use to call his crew and check up on them.

When Buggy entered the bar, there were only a few patrons scattered here and there, and he kept his gaze away from them, not wanting to catch their attention if possible. If there were any Red-Hair Pirates here, he honestly didn’t want to know.

Making his way to the bar, Buggy tapped on the counter to catch the attention of the woman behind it, her back turned toward him.

“Oh! Hello,” she greeted, giving him an easy smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before. How can I help you?”

“Do you have a den den mushi I could borrow?” Buggy asked. “I need to get in contact with my cr— some friends of mine. I’d love to order some food if you serve it, too.”

The woman nodded, cleaning her hands briskly on a towel below the counter. “Sure, I can lend you our den den mushi for a bit. Anything specific you want to eat? We got a whole menu.” She placed a small menu in front of Buggy. “Give it a look while I go get the den den.”

While the woman walked somewhere into the back of the bar, Buggy skimmed over the dishes on the menu. What he wouldn’t give for a hot dog or three right now, but it sadly wasn’t an option. Instead, he decided to just go with the daily special since it seemed to be the easiest.

“You figure out what you want yet?” the woman asked as she placed a sleepy looking den den mushi on the counter in front of Buggy.

“I’ll just have the daily special, thanks,” Buggy said, with a nod.

“Alright, sounds good,” the woman said. “Feel free to take your time on the call. I’ll have your food out in a few minutes.”

As the bartender walked away, Buggy turned to the den den mushi, nudging it awake with a finger as he removed the receiver from its back. Dialing the number of his own den den mushi, Buggy listened to it ring and ring with a growing sense of impatience, his finger tapping away at the counter as he waited.

After what seemed like forever, the other end picked up, though with how chaotic things sounded, Buggy almost wished they hadn’t. “CAPTAIN BUGGY!” a chorus of voices yelled from the little snail. “ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“Hey, shut up,” Buggy snapped. “What’s wrong with you idiots? I’m not talking to everyone at once. Put one person on only, and if you can’t agree on who, it’s going to be Richie.”

There was some more scuffling from the other end, probably from some of his guys trying to deck each other to get a chance to talk to him, as well as a loud roar in the background from Richie. Buggy waited it out, though his patience, already worn pretty thin, was almost nonexistent by this point.

“What do you mean you’re a senior crew member? Mohji, you stupid bastard, you’re 17 and joined nine months ago. Richie still chews your head to get you to wake up, get outta here!” It was Cabaji on the other end, griping way too loud, and then there were a couple more bangs before things quieted down.

“Sorry, captain,” Cabaji said, huffing out a big enough breath that Buggy knew it would send the long bangs covering his eye flying. “Some of these guys you know.” Like he wasn’t one of those rowdy, needy guys under Buggy’s flag.

For a moment, Buggy felt like Rayleigh, trying to rein in the knuckleheads on the Oro Jackson. No wonder his fist got such a workout, doling out punishment like candy to him and Shanks when they were little brats, not even up to his knee.

He also realized, a bit uncomfortably, that he was the oldest member of his ragtag little crew. No wonder they were such a goddamn mess if he was one of the only adults around.

“Are you okay, captain?” Cabaji asked. “Where are you now? Can you say?”

“I’m fine,” Buggy replied, though he didn’t bother to hold back his sigh. “And I’m… somewhere right now. Don’t worry about it.” He’d have to figure that out soon enough, especially if he wanted to be able to navigate back to his crew later on.

For the next few minutes, they discussed what was happening on the ship, whether they had run into trouble, and all that. Seemed like the Buggy Pirates were doing well enough on the island he had left them on, though Buggy had expected as much. It was a peaceful place and was friendly enough to pirates that they didn’t have to worry about marines harassing them for their combined pittance of a bounty just yet.

“When are you coming back?”

Buggy wanted to say that he’d be back in a few days, right after he managed to get some real food into him and stock up on his supplies again, but the answer didn’t feel true. He wanted to leave as quickly as possible, but he also wanted to stay as long as he could.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said in the end. “It won’t be too long, though, so make sure that you guys don’t mess things up too badly.” If he came back to a smoking boat and half the treasure gone, Buggy was going to gut every one of those idiots.

Cabaji gave Buggy his reassurances that everything would be fine, though he remained slightly skeptical, before he ended the call. Placing the receiver back on the den den mushi, Buggy was glad to see the bartender walking back over to him with a tray of food. Seems like the special today was some sort of stew and a sandwich piled high with a heaping pile of meat.

Before he could appreciate the meal though, an arm was slung around Buggy’s shoulders, pulling him back against a firm chest. “Hey, Makino, could you bring the food to our table? He’ll be eating with us. You can put his meal on our tab, too.”

While Buggy would be glad to have a free meal under any other circumstances, he had a bad feeling about this—which was confirmed by the bartender’s next words.

“Oh, Yasopp! Didn’t know he was a friend of yours,” the bartender, Makino, said, shooting a friendly smile toward the man behind Buggy. “He a part of the crew, too?”

“Something like that,” the man said, with a laugh. “Could you bring out a couple more daily specials, too? Me and Lucky Roux have built up quite the appetite.”

“You got it,” Makino said, walking around the bar and heading toward a table near the back where a large man was already sitting. “I’ll be out with those other specials in a little bit!”

“Thanks Makino!”

Twisting in his seat, Buggy hoped he could escape from the man’s clutches, but that only made his arm tighten, dragging Buggy along as he moved toward a table near a corner of the bar. “C’mon, it’ll just be a chat! No need to worry too much, haha.” He probably could’ve gotten out of the hold by splitting his body apart, but revealing his devil fruit powers here seemed like more trouble than Buggy wanted to take on at the moment, so he just let himself be moved.

Unceremoniously, Buggy was deposited into one of the seats at the table. The man who was already sitting there was large and round with goggles over his eyes. He gave Buggy a little wave with the hunk of meat in his hand before he went back to chewing on it. It looked like he was eyeing Buggy’s meal, too, so he tugged it a little closer to his side of the table just in case.

The other man, Yasopp, if the bartender and letters emblazoned across his headband were to be believed, flopped down into the last chair. “Introductions: I’m Yasopp, the big guy next to me is Lucky Roux. And you,” he said, leaning closer, “are the boss’ soulmate, aren’t you? You’re just like Benn described.”

Buggy winced. Seemed like word had spread much farther than he had hoped in the few short hours he had been on the island. “Say it louder, would ya,” he muttered, digging a spoon into the stew before him. This was probably an interrogation, something set up by Benn if the way he had nudged Buggy toward the bar earlier had been any indication, but he was at least going to eat his fill of food during it. He was starving by now.

“Can’t blame us for being curious,” Yasopp laughed. Next to him, Lucky Roux nodded. “We knew the boss had a soulmate, someone who he separated from ages ago, but we never thought we’d actually get to meet them!”

“You’re not really what we expected though,” Lucky Roux said. At least he swallowed before he spoke. “Always thought his soulmate was some pretty lady, someone he had to tragically leave behind.”

Scowling, Buggy stuffed a spoonful of stew in his mouth. He knew that he and Shanks were mismatched as soulmates, but it was kind of infuriating to hear it from someone else, especially someone who didn’t even know him. Where the hell did they get off on judging him like that, huh?

Yasopp nudged Lucky Roux in the side. “Hey, don’t be rude. Soulmates come in all forms, you know. Besides, he’s totally the boss’ type!”

Lucky Roux nodded, taking another bite of meat as he did so. “That’s true. All that long blue hair. Don’t know about the nose though.”

“Whose nose is big and red?!” Buggy shouted, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. “You think it’s huge and ugly, don’t you?!” Realizing that he was making a scene, Buggy quickly sat back down, embarrassment and irritation both heating up his cheeks.

“Well, no one said any of that,” Yasopp said. “Nothing wrong with your nose, right?”

“Looks like a tomato,” Lucky Roux said. “It’s making me hungry, well, hungrier. I wonder if Makino has any tomatoes I could have…”

Tomatoes, his detested. If this was what the Red-Hair Pirates thought of him, Buggy was more than ready to be rid of them. Before he could say anything else, though, Makino was walking up to their table, two trays ladened with food carefully balanced in both hands.

“Here’s your food, boys!” Makino said cheerfully as she set one of the trays down on the table. Both Yasopp and Lucky Roux eagerly took the food from her hands, while Buggy moved his own dishes out of the way to make room. “Hope you enjoy it!”

“We sure will!” Yasopp said. Lucky Roux just gave her a cheery thumbs up, already occupied by his meal.

Instead of leaving like Buggy expected, Makino leaned against the table, lingering for a moment. “Hey,” she said. “Any updates on Shanks? Just wanted to see how he was doing considering how badly he got hurt.”

“He’s doing better,” Yasopp said. “Right, uh, Boogie? No, wait, it’s Buggy, right? Yeah, Buggy should know. He was with him last night when he finally woke up.”

With Makino’s expectant gaze on him—along with both Yasopp and Lucky Roux’s—Buggy really had no choice but to answer. “Yeah,” he said. “Shanks is fine, looking way better than when I first saw him.”

Buggy took a second to reach out through their bond, just to see how Shanks was feeling. Aside from the lingering pain in his arm, which was just something to be ignored at this point, Shanks felt fine, mostly calm and focused. Maybe he and Benn were discussing something serious right now.

When he came back to himself, the three of them were watching him, curious expressions on their faces. “He’s fine,” Buggy said, this time with a greater sense of confirmation in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll be back to his annoying self in no time.”

“That’s good,” Makino said, smiling gently. She patted Buggy companionably on the shoulder. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Once Makino walked away, Yasopp leaned forward, his voice low as he spoke. “You could feel him, couldn’t you? Through your soul bond. Benn said Shanks woke up last night, but not much else. He’s actually okay?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t feel like anything is wrong, not like before,” Buggy said. Then he winced, just slightly, as pain shot through the middle of his left arm. Did their doctor not give Shanks any more painkillers or did the bastard just not take them? “Aside from the arm at least. It’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Huh,” Yasopp said, leaning back in his chair. “Guess I didn’t really believe that you two were soulmates until just now.”

The table fell quiet after that, punctuated mostly by the sounds of Lucky Roux eating. Buggy returned to his meal as well, albeit less enthusiastically. As soon as he finished eating, he was out of here. Maybe he could go hide out in the forest or something.

“You got any funny stories about the boss or something?” Lucky Roux asked, pausing to finish his second bowl of stew. “Heard you guys met when you were kids, right?”

“…Sure,” Buggy said. He put down his sandwich. “You wanna hear about the time he ran naked through a whole town to get back to the ship?” It was Buggy’s fault, of course. He had stolen Shanks’ clothes while he was bathing at a pond, leaving him to do a walk (sprint) of shame back to the Oro Jackson.

Yasopp grinned. “How about we trade then. You tell us that one, and we’ll tell you about the time the captain got so drunk he mistook a cow for an eligible bachelorette.”

“She was a pretty cute cow at least,” Lucky Roux admitted. “Big Bertha was her name.”

“Deal.” Maybe the Red-Hair Pirates weren’t so bad if they were giving him dirt on Shanks. All the better for Buggy to make fun of him.

 

---

 

By the time Buggy left the bar, his cheeks were hurting from laughing so much. Even though Shanks was making a name for himself as a pirate, it seemed like he was still first and foremost an idiot. The number of stories that Yasopp and Lucky Roux traded with Buggy was almost endless, and Shanks would have hated every second of them laughing at his expense. That thought made Buggy’s heart feel even lighter.

It was clear that Shanks had felt Buggy’s good cheer, sending a curious tug through the bond after Buggy had gotten a stitch in his side from laughing too hard. He had sent a jolt of glee back, almost without thinking, and the happiness that came through in response just added to the cheerful moment.

Now, Buggy was making his way back to the little house where Shanks was resting, some leftovers from the bar neatly backed away into a bag. Shanks probably had some crew members bringing him his meals, but on the off chance he was hungry, Buggy was prepared.

The path Buggy took back to the house probably wasn’t the easiest or fastest route, but it was the only one he knew. It didn’t really help that the only time he had really made his way there was in the middle of the night. He hadn’t even seen the front of the house at this point, if he was being honest, since he had come and gone through the back window.

As Buggy got closer to the house, he could feel Shanks more and more clearly. He was happy, that much was obvious, and probably laughing if the way the bond shivered between them was any indication. Maybe another one of his crew members had visited, keeping him company since he was awake now.

Regardless of who it was, Buggy had no plans to interrupt, though Shanks would be able to tell that he was close by. It was fine enough to talk Yasopp and Lucky Roux back at the bar, but he wasn’t all that keen on introducing himself to all of the Red-Hair Pirates, especially since he didn’t plan on staying all that long.

He was almost to the window of Shanks’ room, his preferred entrance, when he heard the high-pitched voice of a child ring out.

“You’re okay though, right? Like really okay?” Buggy could tell the kid was worried even without seeing him, anxiety clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m really okay, Luffy,” Shanks reassured. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m strong, you know. And Hongo is a great doctor.”

Since it was clear he couldn’t go in just yet, Buggy made himself comfortable on the grass just outside of the window. Hopefully the kid wouldn’t stay too long, but if he did, Buggy could always find somewhere else to kill time.

“I’m sorry,” the kid said, his voice wobbling with tears. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“No, it’s not,” Shanks said, his voice soft. “I’ll be fine. It’s more important that you’re okay anyway. I’m glad that I was able to protect you.”

Belatedly, Buggy realized that he probably shouldn’t be listening to this conversation. It was too personal, but at this point, he felt like it was too late to leave. Part of him was also just … curious about who was so important that Shanks had been willing to risk his life.

Sneaking a peek through the window, Buggy saw a young boy sitting on the bed next to Shanks. The kid was tiny, with dark messy hair. His eyes were swollen and red from crying. He looked like a little brat, just some random kid from a backwater village in the East Blue. Somehow, Buggy wasn’t surprised at all.

“C’mon, Luffy, you can’t spend forever crying,” Shanks said, with a cajoling smile. He pinched the kid’s cheek, pulling it much farther than Buggy expected. What the hell? Buggy thought. Did the brat eat a devil fruit, too? Or maybe Shanks had fucked up again and lost another devil fruit along the way.

Buggy looked away after that, his curiosity fulfilled. Tuning out the rest of their conversation, he closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall of the house. He should probably go somewhere else, but it seemed like a pain. He’d just wait out the kid until he left.

“Buggy,” a voice called, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that more time had passed than he realized. It was still afternoon, though, so it hadn’t been too long at least. “Luffy’s gone now. You can come in if you want.”

Flicking his eyes over to the window, Buggy saw Shanks leaning against the sill, his body partially out so he could see Buggy. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Buggy asked, pushing himself up from his position on the grass.

“I’ve been in bed all day,” Shanks said. “It’s not like my legs were injured anyway. I can move just fine.” He moved out of the way as Buggy approached the window, pulling himself inside with ease.

By this point, his good mood from earlier had long since faded, and Buggy was left feeling unbalanced again. It was strange to be around Shanks again after so long, and even stranger still to feel their bond as acutely as he had over the last few hours.

Feeling a little awkward and not really knowing what to say, Buggy held up the bag of food hanging off of his wrist. “I brought you some food. Wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry…” Just to have something to do, he split his wrist and floated the bag over to a small table in the room.

Shanks smiled. “Thanks, Buggy. I’ll have some of it later.” Walking over, he tugged at Buggy’s arm, pulling him over to the bed.

“Thought you said you’d been in bed all day,” Buggy said, though he let Shanks pull him over to the bed before he sat down himself.

“It hasn’t been with you, though.” At that, Buggy rolled his eyes. It was a cheap line, something like what Rayleigh or Gaban would have used while scouting for dates at bars back in the day.

“It hurts less when you’re here, too,” Shanks said. He curled his good arm around Buggy’s waist and pressed his face against Buggy’s shoulder. Involuntarily, Buggy felt shivers run down his spine at Shanks’ closeness, his touch.

“What’s with all this flirting?” Buggy groused. “Don’t you have any painkillers? That doc of yours gave you some last night, didn’t he?” He didn’t nudge Shanks away, though, just kept still and let himself be hugged.

“It’s better with you,” Shanks said, not budging. “You can feel it, too, can’t you?”

Buggy opened his mouth to deny the claim, but then quickly shut it without speaking. Maybe it was a placebo effect or whatever, but the steady pain in his arm, Shanks’ pain, that had followed him all day had lessened in the last few minutes. What had been a sharp ache was now a dull throb, barely even noticeable.

“Whatever,” he muttered. He nudged an elbow against Shanks’ side, gently even. “At least let me lie back on the bed. Holding up your weight like this is a pain.”

Obligingly, Shanks shifted both of their positions until they were lying comfortably on the bed, even though it was a bit of a tight fit with the two of them. His arm was still wrapped around Buggy’s waist, as if making sure he wouldn’t suddenly change his mind and go somewhere else. “Thanks, Buggy,” Shanks sighed, sounding warm and content.

The position was familiar, even after all this time, and that annoyed Buggy. They had shared a bed countless times as children, and the last time they saw each other, which was the day of Captain Roger’s execution, they had shared a bed the night before. The two of them had holed up in a tiny room in a rundown little inn in Loguetown as they waited for the inevitable to happen the next day. It had been a terrible night, but Shanks’ warmth by his side had helped ease him into a slightly less fitful sleep at least.

Too tired to do much of anything, but not tired enough to sleep, Buggy was stuck in sort of a limbo position. Maybe he should try to have a conversation with Shanks, but that felt somehow both too daunting and much more annoying than he wanted to deal with right now.

Buggy might have driven himself crazy trying to get to Shanks as quickly as possible, but that didn’t mean he had forgiven Shanks or that he was no longer mad at him. Those feelings, nurtured for over a decade now, remained, and he still wasn’t ready to hash any of it out. Not that he expected Shanks to ever understand anyway.

“Relax, Buggy,” Shanks murmured, likely feeling the spike in irritation from Buggy’s side of the bond. His arm tightened around Buggy’s waist, pulling them closer.

“It’s your fault,” Buggy said, annoyed. He split one of his hands from his wrist and floated it around to tug irritably at Shanks’ hair, his punishment for, well, his whole presence in Buggy’s life. While it was likely unjustified, Buggy felt a little better blaming some of his struggles on Shanks.

“Ow,” Shanks complained, though it was half-hearted. After getting his arm ripped off, a little hair pulling was nothing. Still, since Buggy was kind and merciful, he gentled his touch in Shanks’ hair, mostly running his fingers through the strands now instead of roughly pulling.

A knock pulled Buggy’s attention away from Shanks, startling him enough that he nearly jerked out of Shanks’ hold. Shanks kept him in place, though, calling out, “Come in” to whoever was at the door.

Unfortunately, Buggy didn’t have any time to split apart and put some distance between the two of them before the door opened. “Oh, good,” Hongo said as he walked into the room. “Both of you are here. I can do two check ups at once.”

“I don’t need a check up,” Buggy said, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl. “You should just focus on your one-armed captain instead.”

“You guys are soulmates, which means your health affects one another,” Hongo said, not paying any mind to Buggy’s animosity. Already, he was pulling up a chair to the side of the bed and setting up his bag of tools on the nightstand. “If I’m going to treat my captain effectively, I need to understand how you’re feeling, too.”

“Well, at least I think so,” Hongo added. “Since soulmates are pretty rare, there’s not a lot of medical literature about how they function healthwise. It’s still pretty obvious that your presence has impacted Shanks’ recovery, though—and positively at that.”

“But! I need to make sure that you’re also not being negatively impacted by his injury,” he continued. “It’ll just be a simple check up, I promise. No needles or anything like that needed.”

Buggy was skeptical, but it wasn’t like he could actually refute anything Hongo was saying. He was no medical doctor, and honestly, all of his knowledge of soulmates came from personal experience with Shanks and old wives’ tales traded between sailors. And if he believed those, then he and Shanks never would have split up in the first place.

“It’ll be okay,” Shanks said, nudging Buggy gently in the side. “Hongo’s a great doctor. You don’t have to worry about getting hurt or anything.”

“He’s no Crocus, though,” Buggy said with a sniff, turning his head away. “But, fine, whatever. I’ll let you take a look at me, but if I get uncomfortable, you have to stop!”

“Sure, I won’t do anything you don’t want,” Hongo agreed.

The check up that followed was routine, just like Hongo had said. He took Buggy’s temperature, listened to his heart and lungs, and took his blood pressure. In a way, it was a bit strange to be examined so thoroughly. In the last decade or so, the only medical care Buggy had had was the emergency kind for injuries. If he could still walk, talk, eat, and do all other normal activities, then he just considered himself healthy.

“Anything you’d like to report? Like injuries or recent illnesses.” Hongo was busy writing down notes in that little journal of his, like Buggy was actually one of his patients and his vitals mattered in the long run.

“No,” Buggy replied as Shanks said, “He hurt his knee recently.”

“How would you even know that?!” Buggy turned to glare at Shanks. Honestly, he had forgotten all about the bruise on his knee. At the time, he had more pressing matters to be concerned with. Shanks hadn’t even been awake at the time!

“I can feel it,” Shanks said. He tapped his right knee. “It felt a little sore earlier, but since I didn’t see a bruise on myself, I figured it must have been you instead.”

“Does it hurt now?” Hongo asked, looking between them. His pencil was poised and ready above a page in his journal.

Buggy shook his head, and Shanks did the same. The injury had been relatively minor. It wouldn’t be painful for all that long anyway.

“How about when you guys are apart? Buggy, can you move away from Shanks for a moment?”

Buggy did as he was asked, splitting his body apart to make it easier to slip out of Shanks’ grip. On the other side of the bed, he heard Hongo exclaim, “Oh! A Devil fruit user, too!” before he ducked his head down, muttering even more. “Wonder how that affects the soul bond …”

With some distance between him and Shanks now, Buggy could feel a bit of pain return, both in his own bruised knee as well as his left arm where Shanks’ own now ended. “There’s some pain now,” he said, pointing at the affected parts of his body. “Here, and here.”

“It’s the same for me,” Shanks added. “It’s like I told you this morning. The pain in my arm lessens, or even goes away, when I’m close to Buggy. It’s better when I can touch him, too.”

“Can you feel it when Buggy splits his body apart?” Hongo asked. “Does it hurt when you do that?” The second question was addressed to Buggy.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything, honestly,” Buggy said. “It’s just like any other movement for me.” Even when he was first getting used to his powers, the worst part was the lack of control, not any kind of pain.

After Hongo took a few more notes in his journal, he proclaimed Buggy the very picture of health—or at least he said that Buggy was well enough and that Shanks’ injury didn’t seem to be affecting him aside from some lingering pain. Even as strong as a soul bond was, it couldn’t actually mirror physical wounds, only the sensation of them.

It was Shanks’ turn now. “Buggy,” he called, turning toward him. “Will you come back? It’ll be easier if you’re closer to me, I think. For the both of us.”

With only a little bit of reluctance, Buggy floated back over to the bed, sitting down by Shanks’ side. He let their arms touch, forearm to forearm and wrist to wrist. Even this small amount of physical contact dulled the pain once again.

“Alright,” Hongo said, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Let’s change your bandages and see how the wound is doing.” Gently turning Shanks more toward him, he began to remove the bandages layer by layer.

Without thinking, Buggy quickly turned his head away, not wanting to see the damage done to Shanks’ arm. He forced himself to turn back, though, almost compelled to show them that he wasn’t bothered.

Buggy was no stranger to injuries, even serious or gory ones. A pirate’s life was dangerous, and Buggy had been a pirate for a long time now. Longer than most people even, probably, considering he got his start as a child. It shouldn’t be any different to look at Shanks’ injury now.

Shanks’ arm was somehow both better and worse than Buggy expected. Worse because he had lost more than Buggy had realized, with only around half of his upper arm still intact. Everything below, his elbow, his forearm, his dominant hand, were all gone.

Better, though, because the injury, while obviously still severe, was not as gory or mangled as Buggy had thought it would be, especially so soon after. The end of Shanks’ arm was stitched together, but the skin was smooth and clean, even if it was clear that it was still healing.

“It’s nothing short of a miracle to see how much progress you’ve made in less than a day,” Hongo said, gently moving what remained of Shanks’ left arm as he cleaned it. Even as focused as he was on taking care of the wound, the awe was clear in his voice. “Thought I was going to drive myself crazy trying to keep you alive, especially since your infection kept getting worse and worse. Now, it’s like you’re weeks post-recovery, not days.”

“It’s because Buggy is here,” Shanks said. It sounded like he meant it, too, even if it was patently ridiculous. A soul bond wasn’t powerful enough to do all of that, no matter what tall tales people spread around.

“Don’t be stupid,” Buggy said, looking away. What had Buggy done since he arrived aside from cry, sleep, have a breakdown on the beach, and eat lunch? That was nothing.

“No, I think he’s right,” Hongo said. Changing his gloves once again, he pulled out some ointment and a roll of bandages from his bag of supplies. “The recorded medical literature may be scarce, but there’s plenty of anecdotal evidence of people being saved from likely fatal injuries due to their soulmates. It’s lucky that Buggy arrived as soon as he did.”

“You’re not out of the woods just yet, though.” Hongo tied the end of the bandage off neatly before he pulled off his gloves, tossing them into a bag on the ground with other assorted trash. “There’s still some swelling in your stump, and we need to keep a close eye on you to be sure that your infection doesn’t come back.”

He turned to Buggy then, looking him carefully in the eye. “I don’t know how all this soulmate stuff works, but there’s clear and undeniable evidence of your presence helping with Shanks’ recovery. Will you stay a few more days at least? It’ll give you some time to rest and resupply before you head back to your crew, too.”

With two pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly, Buggy felt that he only had one answer. “…Okay,” he said, after a long silence. “I’ll stay for just a bit longer.” It’s not like his crew was expecting him back right away anyway. And, even though he would never admit it out loud, he wanted the peace of mind of knowing that Shanks would be fully okay before he left.

“Thank you, Buggy.” Between them, Shanks found Buggy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. His hand was warm, and so was the bond between them.

 

---

 

Much to Buggy’s annoyance, he became something of an unofficial caretaker for Shanks, helping change his bandages and wash his wounds when Hongo wasn’t available and taking him through a physical therapy routine to help ensure that the muscles in his left arm wouldn’t atrophy from disuse.

“I’m not your nursemaid!” Buggy complained, even as he deftly rewrapped the bandages around Shanks’ left arm. He was no longer bleeding or in danger of an infection, but it seemed like it was more comfortable to keep the injury covered for now since it was still sensitive. “Why do I have to be the one to do all this stuff? Isn’t it your doctor’s job to take care of you?”

“Hongo said it was better for us to be together, though, right?” Shanks said, wincing slightly when Buggy pulled the bandage too hard. The joke was on Buggy though, he felt that pain in his arm too, annoyingly enough. “So you’re just following the doctor’s orders.”

“What would he know anything about soulmates, though,” Buggy muttered irritably. “I don’t see him with a soulmate. I have better things to do than be attached to your hip all the time!’

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s been fun spending time with you,” Shanks said. “I’ve missed you a lot, you know.” It didn’t make Buggy feel any better. Who cared what Shanks wanted or liked? Why had Buggy even worried about him so much when he had gotten injured anyway?

Whether it was Buggy’s presence by his side or just Shanks’ body working overtime to heal him, he got better day by day, quickly enough that Hongo kept muttering about experiments with Shanks and Buggy to test other potential effects of their bond on their health. Throwing a knife at his head, swiped from the dinner table, did eventually teach him to keep those thoughts out of Buggy’s earshot at least.

The downside of Shanks getting better, though, was that more of the Red-Hair Pirates came to see their captain, whether to provide him with updates on their business or just to check on him and spend some time with him. That meant Buggy met way more of Shanks’ crew than he had ever wanted, though most of them were friendly at least.

Thankfully, the fact that they were soulmates seemed to only be known to the most senior members of Shanks’ crew. To everyone else, Buggy was just an old friend who had come to check up on Shanks after learning about his injury. How Buggy learned about that injury when the Red-Hair Pirates were doing their best to keep the information under wraps, especially from the Marines, didn’t even seem to cross their minds at all.

There was also that little brat Shanks had saved, Luffy or whatever, who came to visit every day. Honestly, Buggy hadn’t wanted to see him and even went out of his way to avoid him when he could, but of course luck could never be on his side.

“Who are you? Why’s your nose like that?” Luffy asked, climbing through the window. God damn it, that was Buggy’s window to climb in and out of, not his!

They were in the middle of breakfast, just the two of them. Buggy had gotten up earlier than Shanks, so he was left to pick at whatever was left over. It seemed like Shanks was going for foods he could easily eat one handed, avoiding the use of utensils for now.

“Well excuse me for having this red and round nose! I was born like this!”

Attempting to intervene, Shanks put himself between Buggy and Luffy, a placating smile on his face. “Luffy, this is Buggy. He’s an old friend, my best friend. I think you guys will get along!”

Shanks, as usual, was wrong. Of course. For someone so small, Luffy sure packed an ungodly amount of annoyingness inside his body. It didn’t help that Buggy was unscrupulous enough to fight a child.

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s better if you two are separated for a while,” Shanks said, raising his one good arm in the air. It was after the second time Buggy had tried to use Luffy as a slingshot, taking advantage of his devil fruit by stretching him out as far as possible.

“Stupid Buggy!” Luffy shouted, sticking out his tongue at him. “You suck!”

“Yeah, yeah, you too, you little brat!” In Buggy’s opinion, he shouldn’t be so tiny and easy to pick up if he didn’t want to be thrown around all the time. He was just making himself a target.

Luffy scurried away after that, though not without stuffing the remains of their breakfast into his cheeks like some kind of demented hamster. Maybe he’d get round enough that Buggy could roll him down a hill like a bowling ball. That would cheer him up at least.

Although Buggy tried to avoid getting too involved with Shanks’ crew, some of them kept going out of their way to talk to him.

There was Hongo, of course, though his interest was largely medical, and Buggy ran away from him more often than not unless he was showing Buggy something specific to Shanks’ care. No way he was going to consent to Hongo taking a blood sample. The last time a doctor took a more than cursory interest in his insides, he nearly became an unwilling organ donor.

After their chat at Partys Bar, Yasopp and Lucky Roux seemed to take an actual liking to him. Maybe it was the fact that he had plenty of embarrassing stories about Shanks, but when they came to see Shanks, they tried to include Buggy in their conversation as much as possible. It was weird, and a little unsettling, but only because they were part of Shanks’ crew. If it were anyone else, Buggy was sure he wouldn’t mind all that much. He liked talking to people after all, liked being around others much better than he liked being alone.

Tonight, Buggy had somehow gotten dragged into playing cards with Shanks and some of his senior crew members. Since Shanks was still spending most of his time holed up inside his room, they decided to set up some chairs and a bonfire outside to give him a chance to stretch his legs a little and get some fresh air.

It was Yasopp, Lucky Roux, Benn, Buggy, and Shanks. Yasopp and Lucky Roux were friendly enough as usual, with Lucky Roux ticking up a couple spots in Buggy’s ranking of Shanks’ crew after he brought hot dogs for them to roast over the bonfire.

Benn, on the other hand, continued to keep a bit of distance from Buggy. He was never rude, but it was clear he still didn’t really trust him. Buggy didn’t mind. Honestly, it was good that Shanks’ first mate was cautious since Shanks himself wouldn’t be, especially when it came to Buggy.

“Shit,” Buggy cursed, looking over the cards in his hand worriedly. It was no use trying to hide what his hand was at this point. He had been on a losing streak since they started playing.

“You should get rid of this one,” Shanks said, leaning heavily against Buggy’s side. Although he could have had his own cards, Shanks had wanted to play with Buggy instead. Not that there was much teamwork between the two of them. Buggy basically ignored every suggestion Shanks made.

Before Buggy could refuse once again, Shanks reached over and plucked the aforementioned card out of Buggy’s hand and into a separate pile. Much to Buggy’s annoyance, the next card Shanks pulled from the deck actually made his hand quite a bit stronger.

“See? It’s better, isn’t it?” Buggy didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

It didn’t matter much in the end anyway. Yasopp ended up winning that round, much like he had won many of the other rounds.

“Guess your soulmate thing really doesn’t help with cards, does it?” Yasopp said with a laugh as he shuffled the deck of cards again.

“It’s ‘cause Shanks wouldn’t let me cheat,” Buggy complained. “That’s the only way real pirates play cards!”

“Not sure if you should admit that out loud,” Benn said dryly. He lit another cigarette, the smoke wisping up into the night air. “Makes all your wins look suspect.”

“He’d actually have to win first for it to be an issue,” Lucky Roux said, his mouth half full with another hot dog.

They played another few rounds after that, with Buggy’s best showing being a second place finish—without taking Shanks’ advice he might add! It was late at this point, and the conversation had quieted down significantly.

A heavy weight against Buggy’s back, heavier than Shanks should be if he was just leaning against him, caused him to look over. As expected, Shanks was asleep, his bangs falling messily over his eyes.

“I keep telling him not to put his weight on me like this, and yet he never listens.” Buggy didn’t push Shanks off, though, just detached his arm so he could move him and position him across his lap instead. It was more comfortable for the both of them this way. He’d have to float to carry Shanks back to bed later, but whatever.

It was quiet for the next few minutes, whether due to the late hour or out of deference for their captain’s sleep. Eventually, Yasopp was the one to break the silence.

“Why’d you guys separate anyway?” he asked. “Aren’t soulmates meant to stay together forever after they meet? Seems like you guys get along just fine, too.”

Buggy pursed his lips, debating how to answer the question. Or if he was going to answer the question at all. He didn’t owe these guys his life story, and he was sure that they wouldn’t understand his perspective anyway. They were loyal to Shanks, even if they were friendly enough with Buggy.

“We just had a disagreement,” Buggy said eventually. Even if Shanks was his soulmate, and even though Buggy … cared about him in his own way, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still mad. Shanks had betrayed him, tossed his dream away like it was nothing, and even though there were no visible scars, the wound still stung even now.

He shook his head. “Not like it matters anyway. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t actually mean that we’re well suited to each other. We’re just too different, and that’s fine. We have our own paths to take.” He had said it enough to himself over the years that he basically believed it at this point.

“Well… alright, then,” Yasopp said, his voice quieter than before. It obviously wasn’t the answer he was expecting from Buggy. “Guess it’s good you’re here now at least.”

For a moment, his face shadowed from the light of the fire, Buggy wondered if that was actually true, if he had managed to make a difference in Shanks’ life at all.

 

---

 

Going a little stir crazy and fed up with Shanks’ clinginess, Buggy escaped out the window to get some time alone on his own. Unlike his ship, he didn’t even have his own room here to decompress, so he had to find a way to get some “me” time.

He went to the bar first, mostly so he could check in on his crew and make sure the ship hadn’t burned down in the few days he had been gone. Makino was happy enough to lend him the den den mushi again, leaving him alone to make his call.

Mohji was the one to pick up this time, and Richie also roared in greeting in the background. “E-Everything’s fine, Captain Buggy!” Mohji said, in a way that made it clear to Buggy that everything was in fact not fine.

“What did you idiots do?” Buggy ran a hand over his face, feeling even more tired than before. How hard was it to just stay put and not touch anything while he was gone?

“We didn’t do anything!” Mohji protested. “Well, I didn’t do anything! It was all Cabaji’s fault! He was the one who supposed to be watching—“

Buggy cut him off before he could ramble much longer. “Mohji, tell me what happened in 20 words or less, or you’ll regret it when I come back.”

Apparently, one of his crew members had gotten into the room where Buggy made his bombs and thought he could create his own concoction. Which of course led to disastrous and predictable results.

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No,” Mohji said. “Everyone’s fine. The ship, though… She's got a pretty big hole in the side right now. But don’t worry! She’ll be fixed by the time you come back! Just… uh, maybe don’t come back in the next day or two.”

Buggy clicked his tongue in irritation. He would’ve preferred one of his guys get blasted over the ship being damaged. And now he had to deal with repairs while he wasn’t even there.

“Do not touch any of the treasure for funding, okay? I don’t care how you get the money, but if you sell any of my gems…” They had just gotten that treasure, and Buggy had had barely any time to enjoy the gems inside before he had set off to find Shanks. If they were gone when he came back, then he’d make sure his stupid crew wish he would just blow them up with his bombs instead of extending their torture.

Mohji gulped fearfully, loud enough that Buggy could hear it over the den den. “Of course not! Don’t worry about the funds or repairs, Captain. We’ll take care of all of it.” Buggy didn’t quite believe him, but since there was nothing he could do now, he didn’t bother pushing the matter.

After finishing his call with Mohji, Buggy left the bar, hoping to find somewhere to relax. Since he couldn’t enjoy his own hard-earned treasure on his ship, he was going to help himself to the next best thing: Shanks’ treasure.

Much like their captain, the Red-Hair Pirates seemed to be pretty indifferent to treasure. They liked to collect it, of course, but to most of them, the fun seemed to be in the effort to get it and not the actual items themselves. Perilous adventures outweighed expensive gems, it seemed, which meant they were well-suited to Shanks and utterly ridiculous to Buggy.

The Red-Hair Pirates kept their treasure—not quite out in the open, they weren’t that reckless—but easily accessible. There was no one guarding the treasure and no lock and key to keep people out. It was just stored in a relatively isolated area of the village, out of the way, but not really protected.

This carelessness annoyed Buggy, and he knew that Shanks and his crew had already faced consequences for how laxly they handled their treasure, otherwise that little idiot Luffy would have never been able to get a hold of a devil fruit and eat it. This time, though, the lack of security was to Buggy’s benefit, and he was going to take advantage of it.

There was no organization to the treasure, just chests and crates and whatever else stacked together in a haphazard fashion. There was even loose treasure, gems and coins and jewelry, just lying around like they were common pebbles and knick knacks.

Compared to what Shanks had collected, Buggy’s own stash hardly compared, amounting to less than a fraction of a fraction if he was being generous. Part of him was irritated by the sheer difference in their success, but another part of him reveled in the opportunity to get to play around with all of it in the first place.

Scanning through his options, Buggy decided on one of the larger treasure chests, with the lid already partially open and items spilling out on the ground in front of it. This way, if anyone came by, he could just say he was cleaning things up.

Everyone who knew Buggy knew that he loved treasure, the glitz and glam of it all, but he also really loved organizing treasure, getting to know each item on a deeper level. As a kid, he used to spend hours in the Oro Jackson’s treasure room, just sorting whatever he could get his hands on.

There were so many ways to categorize treasure. At the most basic, Buggy would just divide everything into the type of item they were: single gems, jewelry, coins, weapons, and more. From there, gems could be separated by stone, carat size, clarity, cut, hardness, etc. Jewelry could be bracelets, necklaces, brooches, crowns, whatever.

If Buggy really wanted to dive deep into things, he’d start dividing items based on their likely ocean of origin. Some gems could only be found in certain parts of the world, and each Blue had its own style when it came to jewelry and weapons and whatever other random items were collected. Depending on the style and item, he could even pinpoint a specific craftsman who had likely made it. A certain cut of gem, a rarely seen technique for bending metal to create intricate designs, every craftsman had their own unique flair.

Today, Buggy focused largely on the gemstones, something he had more than ample experience with. Even without his jeweler’s loupe, his eye was discerning enough to quickly and accurately assess a gemstone’s quality and value. Buggy wondered if anyone on Shanks’ crew knew enough about treasures and gems to be a decent appraiser, or if the idiot was still just grabbing whatever he thought was shiny and pretty.

After a while, Buggy had several sizable piles of gemstones spread out before him. They were separated by type of stone (diamond, rubies, emeralds, etc.) and then sorted by value based on their size, cut, clarity, and more. The smaller gems were further divided into the type of jewelry they could potentially be set into. Completely focused on the task before him, Buggy’s awareness of his surroundings had completely slipped away.

“What are you doing?” Startling, Buggy yelped and sent the gems in his hands flying into the air. Most of them landed around his lap, but one, a fair-sized emerald, knocked him right on the head.

“You scared me!” Ready to yell at whoever had bothered him, Buggy shut his mouth with a click when he saw that it was Benn, one unimpressed eyebrow raised. In his hand were a few of the gems that had gone flying.

“I was just organizing the treasure!” Buggy said, trying to sound as honest and trustworthy as possible. “I wasn’t going to take anything!”

“I’m sure,” Benn said, in a way that suggested he didn’t believe Buggy at all.

Buggy waited for Benn to say something else, maybe something about Shanks needing him for something if he had gone out of his way to find Buggy or even just telling him off for digging through their treasure, but nothing was forthcoming. As the silence grew, Buggy felt more and more awkward, especially knowing that Benn didn’t quite trust him.

“Did you need me for something?” Buggy asked, finally breaking the silence after several long minutes. He could feel himself starting to sweat, dampness growing at the back of his neck. Instead of his usual ponytail, Buggy had put his hair into a braid today, and loose strands of hair were starting to stick uncomfortably against his skin. “Or did you want me to leave?”

Benn was quiet for a moment longer before he sat down next to Buggy, startling him once again. “I wanted to have a talk with you,” he said, “if that’s alright.”

“... Sure.” In all honesty, Buggy would rather jump into the ocean, but he knew he didn’t really have a choice right now. Hopefully, whatever Benn wanted to talk to him about was relatively painless.

“Great.” Then, taking a deep breath, Benn said, quite sincerely and emphatically, “Thank you.”

“What?” Not sure if he heard right, he looked left and right, trying to see if there was someone else Benn could be talking to. As far as he could tell, they were the only two people here right now. “Thank you for what?”

“Thank you for coming. For being here for Shanks when he needed you the most.” Benn looked away for a moment, before turning his gaze back to Buggy, looking him straight in the eye. “I know you could feel what happened to him, so I’m sure you know it was bad, but…”

“Shanks almost died during the emergency surgery, you know. Hongo’s a great doctor, but there was only so much he could do with the supplies he had on hand. He had to have a blood transfusion twice, and we weren’t even sure if anyone was even a match for his blood type.” Benn sighed. “It was a shitshow, but he made it out of surgery, which would have been great, except he was still sick. Fever, infection, necrotic tissue, every possible complication that could have happened, did.”

“And then he wouldn’t wake up,” Benn continued. “He wouldn’t wake up, and even in just a few days, it seemed like he was wasting away despite our best efforts. We didn’t know what to do, if he would be able to recover here or if we would have to risk moving him to somewhere else with better medical care available.”

“Shanks wouldn’t have died,” Buggy said. His throat was dry, making his voice come out thin and hoarse. “There’s no way he would have died.”

“Maybe,” Benn said. “But we’ll never know now. What I do know is that you came, and he got better. Way better, like he had just gotten a deep cut on his arm instead of having most of it torn off.”

“I don’t know much about soulmates, or what happened between the two of you all those years ago, but I can see that you helped him, that you make him happy, and that’s enough for me. So, thank you.”

Buggy was quiet, unsure of what to say. It had felt strange enough to hear Hongo say his presence had helped with Shanks’ recovery, and stranger still to hear a similar sentiment from Benn. “He doesn’t need me, though,” Buggy said, more honest than he had intended to be.

“I’m sure you don’t need him all the time either,” Benn said, speaking more gently than before. “But when he did need you, you came. And I know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.”

Standing up, Benn dropped the gems in his hand back into Buggy’s lap. “You can take whatever you want, as much as you want. I don’t care, and honestly, you more than deserve it for everything you’ve done for Shanks.”

Then, Buggy was left alone again, surrounded by a pile of treasure, but his mind somewhere else entirely.

 

---

 

It was late by the time Buggy made it back to the little house where Shanks was staying. Like he always did, Buggy climbed in through the bedroom window instead of going through the front door. It had only been a few days, but it was already a habit.

“There you are,” Shanks said, welcoming him with a smile. He was shirtless, and his hair and chest were still damp, clearly having just come from a shower. “Hongo wanted to see you earlier, but he couldn’t find you.”

“I’m still not giving him a blood sample, no matter how much he asks,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes. “Who knows what he’d want to do with it. Whatever soulmate analysis he wants to run, he can make do with your blood, god knows you’ve lost more than enough of it recently.”

Walking over to where Shanks was sitting on the bed, Buggy picked up the towel draped over the back of a chair and placed it over his head, rubbing his hair dry. Even before he lost his arm, Shanks had been pretty bad at drying his hair after bathing, leaving water to drip all over the pillows. Buggy was not sleeping on wet pillows tonight.

“I don’t know how you suck so badly at taking care of yourself,” Buggy grumbled, pushing Shanks’ bangs out of the way so he could see his face more clearly. “Were you this bad with two arms, too?”

“Maybe I just like it when you touch me,” Shanks said. He leaned his face against Buggy’s hand, like a dog asking to be pet. “It feels good.”

In response, Buggy hit him upside the head, not bothering to hold back his strength anymore. Shanks had recovered plenty over the last few days. He could take it. “Okay, well maybe not like that,” Shanks said, wincing.

As Buggy went to move away, Shanks caught his wrist, turning it over so he could get a closer look at the bracelet adorning it. It was a delicate silver bracelet with aquamarine gems, a blue that was almost white like the glaciers they had seen once when traveling with the Roger Pirates.

“This is pretty,” Shanks said. He ran his thumb over a few of the gems, sparkling even now in the low light. Buggy had spent an hour polishing them to gleaming perfection after he found the bracelet, which had been buried under piles and piles of other treasures. It had been worth the trouble to dig through everything.

“It’s one of yours,” Buggy said. It was one of the few pieces he had taken with him after he had finally accepted that Benn hadn’t been joking when he said Buggy could take what he wanted. Maybe he could’ve gotten away with taking the whole chest, but he just … didn’t want to this time, strangely enough. He ended up only taking his favorites after extensive consideration.

“It looks good on you. I’m glad you found it.” With his hand still around Buggy’s wrist, Shanks tugged him forward until he had no choice to follow unless he split his wrist from his arm. It wasn’t until Buggy was straddling Shanks on the bed that he finally pulled his wrist away.

“What are you trying to do?” Buggy knew he could resist, knew he should resist, but instead, he let Shanks pull him even closer, wrapping an arm around Buggy’s waist so he was held in place.

“Just wanted to hold you for a bit,” Shanks said. In this position, Buggy was a little taller than him, naturally for once and not because he was floating, leaving Shanks to look up at him. Shanks’ eyes were shining, like stars, and he was looking at Buggy like he was the only person in the world, like he was the only person who mattered.

Don’t do it, a little voice inside Buggy protested. You know it’s a bad idea! He didn’t listen. Instead, he cupped one hand behind Shanks’ neck and the other under his chin before leaning down and pressing a soft, gentle kiss against Shanks’ lips.

The kiss wasn’t anything earth-shattering, but it was warm and comfortable, like sinking into a soothing bath after a long day. It also just felt right, like this was where the two of them were meant to be. For the first time, Buggy felt like he understood what having a soulmate was supposed to be like.

As Shanks’ mouth opened underneath his own, Buggy took the opportunity to swipe his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Although they had kissed before when they were younger, those had just been childish pecks, almost out of obligation even though soulmates didn’t necessarily have to be romantic. This kiss was different, more heated and getting hotter and hotter the more their lips met.

Shanks was the one to finally break the kiss, moving away with one last lick to Buggy’s lower lip. “God,” he said, sounding breathless. “You’re so… you’re so beautiful. I want you so much.”

“You have me,” Buggy said, leaving off the for now. It wasn’t the time or place for that. He wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what was happening now, for as long as he could.

Underneath him, Buggy could feel Shanks’ gradually hardening length press against his own. A roll of his hips pulled a groan from Shanks, who tightened his hold on Buggy’s waist even more, dragging him forward to increase the friction.

Shanks’ face was buried against Buggy’s neck, and his mouth pressed kisses to every inch of skin that he could reach. His hand drifted down from Buggy’s waist to his ass, giving it a rough squeeze. “Buggy, please.”

Dragging a hand down Shanks’ chest, Buggy pushed him back just enough so he could push their pants down and pull out their erections. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into the palm, before he wrapped it around the both of them, setting a fast pace. He wasn’t going to last long, and from how Shanks felt through the bond, he wasn’t going to either.

Through the bond, their mutual pleasure became a feedback loop, getting stronger and stronger over time. It was like all he had ever known was pleasure, and Buggy could barely hold on. It was only a few short minutes later before they both came, wetness staining Buggy’s fingers white.

As they came down from the high of their orgasm, Buggy turned his head to place a kiss against the crown of Shanks’ head. Breathing in the clean scent of Shanks’ hair, Buggy felt at peace, content, for the first time in a while.

After a few more minutes, Buggy found the energy to detach one of his hands and pick up the towel, which had fallen to the floor earlier. Once he had cleaned the both of them up as best as he could, Buggy tossed it toward the pile of dirty laundry to be taken care of later.

Although Buggy meant to get off of Shanks, he was soon tumbled back onto the bed, Shanks tugging Buggy close so he could rest more comfortably in his arms. It was a position that Buggy had found himself in countless times over the last few days, and regrettably, he could feel himself almost looking forward to it every time he went to bed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Shanks said, his voice half muffled by Buggy’s hair. Through their bond, Buggy could tell that Shanks was close to falling asleep, probably just a minute or two away. “It’s the … happiest I’ve been in a long time…”

Like Buggy expected, Shanks fell asleep quickly after that. Happiest, huh? he thought. Even though the bond had gone mostly dormant now that Shanks was asleep, Buggy could still feel the remnants of his contentment from before.

Despite how chaotic his arrival had been, Buggy could admit that his time with Shanks and his crew hadn’t been all that bad. Parts of it had even been fun—but he knew it couldn’t last. This was only ever going to be a temporary reunion.

Still… he could enjoy the little time they had left, right? With that in mind, Buggy let himself be lulled to sleep by Shanks’ gentle breathing and the steady beat of his heart.

 

---

 

After a few more days, Shanks was basically fully recovered, or at least recovered as he could be with most of his left arm now gone. He had even started discussing plans to train with his right arm so he wouldn’t be held back in fights.

Shanks had a monstrous amount of strength; it was no wonder he recovered so quickly from an injury that would likely set back most people months or even longer. It had nothing to do with Buggy’s presence, no matter what Hongo or Benn tried to say. What did a soulmate have to do with fighting infections or improved white blood cell counts anyway?

Buggy tried to keep out of the way as much as possible when Shanks had meetings with his senior crew members, but it was clear that their time in Foosha Village was quickly coming to an end. It was only a matter of time before the Red-Hair Pirates set sail again, likely going toward the Grand Line.

It was time for Buggy to go, too. Now that Shanks was healthy again, there was no reason for him to stay—not that visiting Shanks on his sickbed had been much reason either considering all the crew members he had to support him. Buggy had his own crew to check up on, treasure maps that he wanted to explore, and just… a whole life waiting for him elsewhere.

That night, the Red-Hair Pirates held a party on the beach to celebrate their captain’s recovery. It was a raucous affair, with an abundance of music, food, and alcohol. With everyone distracted by the festivities, it was the perfect time for Buggy to sneak away to his boat and make his escape.

Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone was working against him. Everywhere Buggy turned, he was pulled into conversation or given a new drink or something to eat. Any other time, he would have relished the attention being given to him, but right now all it was doing was making his headache worse. For whatever reason, the Red-Hair Pirates seemed to consider him one of their own now, even if he was anything but.

Shanks, of course, was the worst offender. Even after basically being attached at the hip for so many days, he didn’t seem to want to leave Buggy alone. Every time Buggy tried to sneak away, or even just put a bit of distance between them, Shanks was somehow there, his good arm wrapping around Buggy’s waist and pulling him back to where he was holding court with his senior crew members.

After the fifth time—which was probably three attempts too many—Buggy resigned himself to staying by Shanks’ side for a little while longer. As much as he kicked up a fuss, it didn’t feel too bad to relax together, especially with how difficult everything had been when Buggy first arrived.

It was Shanks’ first time drinking since his injury, and he made no effort to pace himself, trying to make up for lost time. Buggy lost track of how many drinks Shanks had thrown back after eight, though he did try to switch his mug with some water every now and then. It would be a mess if he had managed to survive losing an arm only to fall to liver disease somewhere down the line.

“It’s been great having a base to come back to, but I’m excited to get back to the Grand Line, too,” Yasopp said, tossing back the rest of his beer before he set the bottle down with the other empties. “How about you, Buggy? What are your plans after this?”

“You can come with us!” Shanks said, laughing. His cheeks were flushed pink with alcohol, but amid the firelight, he looked like he did after Buggy had kissed him over and over again until their mouths were stinging and sore. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go, Buggy. We can go treasure hunting, just like in the old days!”

“You’re an idiot,” Buggy said with a scowl. He didn’t bother to shove Shanks’ arm off his shoulder, though, just leaned back and made himself more comfortable. Might as well make the most of tonight since he was leaving soon anyway. “Who’d want to come with you? I have my own crew to think about, and we don’t need any of your help.”

“At least let us take you to where your crew is,” Benn said. “It’ll be faster and more comfortable than that little boat of yours. We’re probably going to leave in the next few days, a week at most.”

“Your crew’s doing alright, aren’t they?” Yasopp asked. More than once, he had overheard Buggy’s check ins with his crew when he borrowed the bar’s den den mushi. In all honesty, “alright” was probably an overstatement, but both Cabaji and Mohji had reassured Buggy that they had managed to fix the hole in the ship at least. “Waiting a few more days won’t hurt.”

“Yeah, Buggy,” Shanks said, his smile big enough to crinkle his eyes. “Let me have you for a few more days at least. I want to stay with you as long as possible.”

The sentiment was sappy, ridiculous. Buggy knew if he said yes to this, he’d stay longer and longer until he couldn’t bear to separate himself from Shanks, not again. What he needed was a clean break, so he could go back to his own life without constantly looking back and thinking What if?

“Fine, I’ll stay a few more days,” Buggy lied. “Maybe I can relax now, too, now that I don’t have to play nursemaid for this idiot all the time.”

The party continued for a few more hours after that, with the Red-Hair Pirates getting more and more drunk. Shanks was probably the worst off, and Buggy almost wanted to drag him back to the house by his ankles instead of carrying him over his shoulder.

“I can take him if you want,” Benn offered. Yasopp had already been carted off by Lucky Roux, so it was only the two of them left now.

“I’m fine,” Buggy said, waving Benn off. Detaching his ankles, Buggy floated a few inches from where his feet were, lightening Shanks’ weight significantly.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow then,” Benn said, giving Buggy a nod before he left. “I’ll send Hongo over early in the morning with some painkillers to deal with the hangover, too.”

Buggy made his way back to the house, Shanks snoring mostly quietly over his shoulder. This was the last time he’d take this path back to the house, back to the room he had spent so much time in with Shanks.

Once inside the room, Buggy set Shanks down gently on the bed, prepared to leave him sleeping quietly while he collected all his belongings. Of course, Shanks derailed all of those plans.

It was too dark to see Shanks’ face, but his voice was loud and clear in the quiet room. “Buggy?” he called. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” Buggy said, though he knew Shanks could feel him through the bond, too. He wasn’t sure how it would feel once he left. Would it dim like it had before, when Shanks was actively blocking him? Would it become even quieter than a whisper? Or would Buggy be able to feel him as clearly as he did now?

“Come to bed,” Shanks said. Even in the dark, Shanks’ hand was able to find Buggy’s own, pulling him closer. “I sleep better with you.”

“That’s just your imagination,” Buggy scoffed, but he still let himself be pulled down onto the bed. They got into their usual sleeping position, with Shanks wrapping his arm around Buggy’s waist to hold him close.

“Good night, Buggy,” Shanks sighed, already halfway back to sleep. In a few more seconds, his breathing evened out once again, and the bond between them settled into the quiet hum that signaled unconsciousness.

“... Good night.” Leaning forward, Buggy pressed a gentle kiss to Shanks’ brow, right where his three scars were, before he slipped out of Shanks’ hold. He only had a short amount of time to pack and get his boat ready so he could sail back to his crew.

 

---

 

Although the moon wasn’t quite full tonight, it was still bright enough for Buggy to see as he pulled his little boat and all his belongings, including some of Shanks’ treasure carefully tucked away, to the shore where he had originally landed.

He was nearly ready to set sail, with his boat almost in the water, when a tug at the back of his mind pulled his attention away from his preparations. Even without turning around, Buggy knew who had come to find him.

“Were you just going to leave without saying goodbye?” Buggy could already tell that Shanks was hurt by how his voice sounded, but the bond drove the point home even more, leaving Buggy feeling like he had been stung.

“If I don’t leave now, then I don’t know if I can leave at all,” Buggy said, still not looking at Shanks. “I can’t just follow you around forever. I don’t want to follow you around forever.”

Shanks was quiet, and Buggy wondered if this would just be another fallout between them, if he would go back to closing off their bond again, like he had for the last ten years or more. But, when Buggy finally turned to look behind him, expecting Shanks to be gone, he was still there, even closer than before.

“Buggy,” Shanks said, opening his arm wide. “C’mere. At least let me say goodbye. That’s all I want.”

Unable to resist, Buggy went to Shanks, almost falling against his chest. For once, Buggy was the one to initiate the hug, wrapping his arms tightly against Shanks’ back. This close, pressed chest to chest, it felt like they were sharing one heartbeat.

“I’ll always be with you,” Shanks promised, his arm tightening around Buggy’s back. “No matter what. Stay safe, okay?”

“I should be the one saying that,” Buggy said, sniffling against Shanks’ neck. A few tears slipped from his eyes, wetting the collar of Shanks’ shirt. “You’re the one who keeps putting yourself in danger. Don’t make me come back again, you idiot. If you get hurt that badly again, I’ll, I’ll—”

“I won’t,” Shanks promised, turning his head to press a kiss against Buggy’s ear, his cheek. “I’ll stay safe, and if you ever need me, I’ll come as quickly as possible. I won’t leave you alone again.”

After holding each other for a few minutes longer, Buggy was the first to pull away. Wiping the remaining tears off his face, Shanks gave him one last kiss before he stepped back. “Bye, Buggy,” he said, the smile on his small and wistful, but real.

“Bye,” Buggy said, and he turned around quickly, pushing all of his attention to his boat. Now more than ever, he had to leave. As he went through the last of his preparations, Buggy pushed the boat into the water and set sail. He didn’t look back, not until he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to see land again.

As he sailed farther and farther away, Buggy closed his eyes and reached out through the thread of their bond, just to see how it would feel now that they were apart again. The response that came back, almost faster than he could blink and as strong as it was when they were still together every day, was warm, like the sun, like Shanks’ smile as he saw Buggy off.

I’ll always be with you, Shanks had said. For once, Buggy hoped it was true.

Notes:

i'm dead.......................... i thought this fic was going to be 12k max LMAO. very glad to have finally finished it, though! it's the longest one shot i've ever written (and one of the longest things i've ever written in general oof).

anyway, thanks so much for reading!! hope you're all well!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 8 of Shanks/Buggy fics