Chapter Text
Shamrock had always done what was expected of him. He attended the most prestigious private school, wore the spotless uniform, got the perfect grades, and followed the unspoken rules of high society. But after everything that happened last summer, after all the stress and drama, he had finally had enough.
He wanted out.
Shanks had freedom—true freedom.
He wasn’t shackled by reputation or legacy. He laughed too loud, made friends with whoever he wanted, and never had to fake a polite smile at pointless galas. Shamrock wanted that too, at least some of it. He didn’t want to be stuck in that suffocating, novelty-ridden world any longer. So, for the first time in his life, he put his foot down. He insisted. And when his father argued, when he tried to shut him down because he was in his final year and changing schools now was ridiculous—Shamrock played the one card he had never used before.
"I never ask for anything, ...please…Dad."
That was what finally did it. With a deep sigh and an exasperated rub of his temples, his father relented. "Fine."
Shamrock had won.
And when he aced the entry exam, earning a spot in the prestigious 3-A class, he was more than ready. He was excited. Finally, he’d be going to school with Shanks. They’d be together—laughing, scheming, surviving the chaos of public school together.
Or at least, that’s what he thought.
The moment Shanks turned toward another classroom, Shamrock felt his stomach drop.
"Where are you going?"
"To class."
Shamrock pointed to the classroom sign above him. "Right. 3-A."
Shanks just grinned. "Nope." And he popped the P, just to annoy him. "I’m in 3-C!"
"C?! Why C?! You’re smart!"
"Yeah, but I don’t wanna deal with a hassle," Shanks said with a lazy shrug, before disappearing through the door.
Shamrock stood frozen, watching his twin abandon him without a second thought. His excitement drained out of him all at once.
Then, before he could process it, the teacher pushed open the door to 3-A.
He stepped inside.
And immediately regretted everything.
His grip on his bag tightened. He could barely hear the teacher introducing him over the dull scratch of his own name being written on the chalk board. The sound grated against his nerves, but it was nothing compared to the sight in front of him.
The room felt wrong. Loud, buzzing, unpredictable.
At the back of the room, Buggy was sitting with his feet kicked up, grinning at him like he had just spotted his next victim. The sheer chaotic energy radiating from him was enough to make Shamrock tense. Buggy had a wide, toothy grin—the kind that promised nothing good. His eyes lit up like a predator spotting prey, his whole posture dripping with the kind of reckless energy that made Shamrock’s stomach twist.
Oh, no.
This was a mistake. A huge mistake.
In the far corner, there was Mihawk, a silent man who stared at him, unimpressed. Unreadable.
But the worst part—sitting dead center, in the most obvious spot, where everyone could see him—was Crocodile.
The school delinquent. The one person Shamrock really didn’t want to run into again. The guy who, last summer, had threatened his life with a knife.
And now he was sitting there, staring at Shamrock like nothing ever happened.
Shamrock swallowed hard.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybe this was the real hassle.
Before he could even finish the thought, Buggy slammed his hands on his desk, nearly tipping his chair backward.
“No freaking way.” His grin stretched wide—too wide. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Shammy ShamSham!”
Shamrock’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t heard that nickname in months. He didn’t want to hear it.
Buggy kicked the chair next to him out, motioning dramatically. “C’mon, pretty boy, sit next to me. For old time’s sake.”
Old time’s sake? Shamrock’s entire body rejected the idea. Images of last summer flashed through his brain—the crush he’d buried, the kiss he swore he’d never think about again, and how Buggy acted like it never even happened.
Nope. Not happening.
Shamrock shook his head, tight-lipped. “I’m good, thanks.”
Buggy’s eyes twinkled. “Aw, c’mon, don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”
Mihawk smirked a little.
Shamrock barely had time to process his escape plan before the teacher, clearly over it, pointed to the only other open seat.
“Fine. Sit next to Crocodile.”
The room went dead silent.
Buggy’s grin froze.
Someone in the back whispered, “Oh, he’s dead.”
Shamrock turned slowly, locking eyes with Crocodile.
Crocodile, who was already glaring, his usual scowl somehow even deeper.
Shamrock wanted to turn and run but he kept walking forward the seat.
Mihawk raising an eyebrow at Shamrock "Brave. Or stupid. Hard to tell."
“OH MY GOD, TEACH, YOU CAN’T JUST SEND HIM TO HIS DEATH LIKE THAT!” Buggy threw himself onto his desk, clutching his sides dramatically. “AT LEAST LET HIM SAY HIS FINAL WORDS!”
Shamrock’s eye twitched. Oh, for the love of—
He barely made it two steps toward his seat before Buggy made it worse.
“Hey, Croc,” Buggy called, barely containing his glee. “Be gentle with him. He’s delicate.”
Crocodile’s eye twitched.
Shamrock froze.
The class collectively gasped.
Buggy was wheezing on the floor. Someone actually threw a notebook at him.
Meanwhile, Crocodile very, very slowly turned to look at Shamrock.
Then, in the calmest, deadliest voice imaginable, he said:
“…Sit down and don’t talk to me.”
and Shamrock did.
He sat down, he didn’t breathe.
Yeah. This was gonna be the longest year of his life.
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Next chapter ;3