wash up ashore

by manofbeskar

Summary:

Shanks yearns for a more exciting life, having never left God Valley before. During a storm, the infamous Marine Hunter collapsed in his backyard, bloody and injured.

Notes:

chapter count is a placeholder but i don't think it'll have more than 4-5 chapters hehe

Chapter 1

“Shanks! Is it getting dark?”

“Yes, Mama!” Shanks shouted back. The wind was picking up speed outside the window, and the sky above had darkened. Raindrops began pattering relentlessly on the glass as the storm brewed like a terrible divine concoction. It was looking to be one of the worst storms in recent times—Shanks did not envy anyone who was out sailing and too far from a dock to escape it.

The impending storm was probably the most exciting thing to happen in God Valley in years. Of course, Shanks had seen the violent and scary things going on across the world in the papers that the news coos dropped off every morning. He knew he was fortunate to live in a place so untouched as God Valley. The village was small, but he knew everybody there like family. He helped his mother keep the house neat—Shamrock would compete and clean the whole house twice over. She made them three meals a day, all of which were unfathomably delicious. There weren’t many kids Shanks’s age in town who weren’t his twin brother, but he got along with the other kids fine.

Life was simple. Nice, but too simple. It felt ungrateful to say he yearned for adventure. He knew his mother worked hard to give them a peaceful life—after their father left her, unwilling to bear the responsibility, she’d raised Shanks and Shamrock largely on her own. She had help from the townspeople, who adored her. Shanks understood—his mother was so sweet and loving. It was due to her sole effort that he and Shamrock grew up safely, away from crime and brutality. Still, now that he was almost nineteen, he yearned for a life outside of God Valley. He’d never been off the island—his mother’s only demand of her sons—and he wanted to experience what it was like, beyond words in a newspaper.

“Be a sweetheart and help me bring the clothes in, okay?” his mother requested.

Shanks made a noise in acknowledgement and put on a pair of rain boots and a raincoat before stepping outside. He walked to the back of the house, struggling against the strong wind. Finally, he reached where his mother had hung the clothes to dry. He collected the soaked clothes, lamenting that his favourite shirt would have to wait before being wearable again. When he grabbed one of his mother’s shirts, he baulked when he saw a red stain in the middle of the yellow fabric.

“Oh, my God,” Shanks whispered in horror as he pushed the shirt aside.

Hidden among the clothes was a bloodied boy who looked a similar age to Shanks, if only a little older. He was drenched in blood and had a huge sword perched on his back. Shanks stared at him in wide-eyed horror as his memory provided him the context he desperately needed.

This was Dracule Mihawk, the Marine Hunter. Hawk-Eyes. The boy who was currently worth over a billion Berry. The world’s strongest swordsman. The current owner of a legendary sword that Shanks had seen in a book once.

Mihawk looked at him, bleary and unfocused, and then collapsed.

“Hello?” Shanks called, leaning down tentatively. He prodded Mihawk’s shoulder, but he didn’t rouse. Afraid, Shanks stuck a finger under his nose and was relieved to feel airflow. He was alive, just unconscious.

Shanks glanced around. Nobody else was out, Mihawk must’ve snuck into the town under the storm’s cover. He seemed injured. Maybe he was seeking shelter from the storm. Shanks bit his lip in contemplation. A top-wanted pirate collapsing in his backyard was the most exciting thing to happen to Shanks ever . He couldn’t just leave him here and hope he’d be gone by morning. He knew it was illegal to help Mihawk—he’d be seen as an accomplice—but his mother raised him not to run away when someone needed help. He would feel ill if he left Mihawk out here. He needed help, Marine Hunter or not.

“Alright. You’re coming with me,” Shanks said, and he took a deep breath before he reached down to pull Mihawk up. A sharp breath escaped him—Mihawk was heavier than he looked; it must be muscle mass weight. Jeez . He adjusted himself, got used to the other man’s weight, and then huffed as he lifted Mihawk high enough so he could drape him on his back. He was a bit taller than Shanks, and his sword was taller than he was. This was Shanks’s best option to drag him back to his home. As he adjusted his grasp on Mihawk, he could feel his muscular biceps, and his face flushed.

Slowly, Shanks carried Mihawk back to the front door. He carefully opened the door without dropping Mihawk, and then stepped inside. As he wriggled his feet out of his boots, he shouted, “Mama! I found him collapsed in our clothes!”

“Who—” His mother, Sofia, started. She stepped out of the kitchen and cut herself off with a gasp when she saw the bloodied criminal on Shanks’s back. “Put him down on the couch. Sham, honey, help Mama grab the first aid kit!”

Shamrock came with the box within a minute, and Sofia hurriedly tended to Mihawk. Shanks and Shamrock stood at the side, watching in anticipation as she carefully removed his oversized sword. She gently set the bloodied blade aside and then pulled Mihawk’s rose-embroidered jacket off to reveal his bare torso. He was covered in blood, but Shanks was certain not all of it was his, if his reputation could tell him the story. In all the articles he’d read about him, Mihawk was a brutal and isolated pirate who hunted Marines. However, he’d never been said to be injured until now. Shanks wondered if the Navy knew they managed to wound him this time.

“Shanks, please help Mama take the disinfectant out of the kit. Sham, bring me some water in a bowl, please,” Sofia requested. Shanks liked that she’d always spoken to them so politely. It wasn’t like anyone ever did otherwise, but he’d read books before, and he knew not all children or teenagers were spoken to like respected and intelligent individuals. His mother respected and loved everyone, and it was something she taught her sons.

Both sons retrieved the items she requested, and she set the bowl of water down on the small table by the couch, then doused a cloth in some disinfectant. She warned Mihawk, “This will sting a bit. I’m sorry.” Tentatively, she dabbed at Mihawk’s open wounds with the cloth. Mihawk’s face twisted minutely in pain, but Shanks was impressed that the reaction was so minimal. He must be used to that sensation.

“All done,” Sofia said, giving Mihawk a calming smile. “I’ll clean you up now, alright? Do I have your permission?”

Mihawk stared at her, eyes just as bleary as earlier, and his half-lidded gaze dragged itself over to the twins. He blinked slowly, and then his head lolled back as if he couldn’t be bothered to say anything—or couldn’t muster the energy to. Shanks wasn’t sure if Mihawk even knew they were there; he looked a bit delirious. Sofia took it as a green light and went for it. She soaked a second cloth in the water Shamrock brought and began wiping blood off him. It didn’t take long before she was asking for a fresh bowl of water and a new cloth, and Mihawk’s pale skin began to show under the crimson.

When she lifted his arm to wipe blood off, she gasped. “You’re burning up! Oh dear, how long have you been fighting a fever off? Sham, could you—”

“Yes, Mama,” Shamrock said, and then ran off to retrieve fever syrup from the bathroom cabinet, along with its plastic spoon. She smiled in gratitude and poured a spoonful of the syrup.

She held it to Mihawk’s lips. “This is fever medication. Drink up, okay?”

She carefully tipped the syrup into his parted lips, and he cooperatively swallowed it down. Shanks didn’t think he was the type to accept consumables from people he had just met, but he also looked delirious enough to let it happen.

“Not much more I can do for now,” Sofia said as she stood up, looking down at Mihawk, who had just passed out. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask the doctor to come look at him—”

“No!” Shanks quickly said. He glanced around, found last week’s newspaper at the top of the stack by the door, and retrieved it for her. “Mama, we can’t tell anyone he’s here. He’s wanted . The Navy will come, and he looks too injured to fight.” He flipped it to around the middle pages, where Mihawk’s bounty poster took up a good quarter of the page. Wanted at one billion Berry, Dracule Mihawk’s photo was radiating intimidation. Danger. Excitement.

Shanks found it all so intense. Mihawk was exciting .

Sofia glanced between the photo and the real person lying on the couch. On the wanted poster, Mihawk looked almost psychotic, a minute smirk on a blood-splattered face, as if telling the cameraman that they were next. In reality, Mihawk looked like a peaceful young man crashing innocently on Shanks’s couch—if it weren’t for the huge, blood-stained sword beside him. Her eyes skated down the list of crimes he was wanted for, and then she decided, “Okay. I’ll wait until he’s awake and ask him what he wants to do.”

---

Mihawk didn’t wake up for the next couple of days. He looked feverish and occasionally murmured incoherently in his sleep, tossing and turning. Sofia tended to his wounds and regularly fed him medicine. At some point, a bullet wound on his shoulder started showing signs of an infection, and Sofia tended to it the best she could. She even asked Shanks to subtly ask the doctor how he’d tend to a bullet wound, under the guise of “writing a detective story”.

Shanks couldn’t help but wait at the edge of his seat for the moment Mihawk would wake up. He wanted to ask him for his story. He knew the one the papers printed, but he wanted to hear it straight from the guy who sailed the world alone. He must have so many interesting tales to tell; he was so exciting…

“Hey,” Shamrock said as he poked Shanks, who’d been peeking at Mihawk from the hallway. “What do you think about all this?”

“I think it’s a chance to get to know what life is like out there!” Shanks said. “When he wakes up, I’m gonna ask him all sorts of questions.”

“Do you really believe that’s a good idea?” Shamrock asked.

“Why? Don’t you wonder what the rest of the world is like?”

“I read the paper.”

“Yeah, but like, in reality ! People can lie in the papers,” Shanks pointed out. “I want to hear stories from people who got to live in the world. This guy sailed alone on the most dangerous seas. He fights Marines and other pirates every other day! Aren’t you curious to know his stories, too?”

Shamrock glanced at Mihawk, then admitted, “A bit, yes.”

“Yeah! Exactly!” Shanks said. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll let me sail with him!”

Shamrock burst out laughing. “Do you seriously believe that?”

“Maybe I can be useful somehow.”

“You said it yourself, he sails dangerous seas alone and fights strong people every day. He doesn’t need another person to take care of,” Shamrock said. Shanks didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. It seemed like Mihawk didn’t need anyone.

“I’m gonna go find his boat. He sailed here; his boat must be somewhere, if the storm didn’t wash it away,” Shanks said, turning on his heel.

Shamrock argued, “Hey, it might not be safe. What if someone followed him?”

“Guess you’re gonna have to come with me if you want me to be safe!” Shanks teased, singsong, and he smirked when Shamrock grumbled under his breath as he followed close behind.

It didn’t take too long walking along the outskirts of God Valley before the twins found a boat. It’d luckily washed up ashore instead of being pushed out into the middle of nowhere—that, or Mihawk pulled it onto the shore before sneaking into the village. The boat looked as though he’d delidded a coffin and placed a throne, two candles, and a masthead inside it. The wooden floorboards were dry, since the storm subsided a few hours after Mihawk’s arrival. The boat looked well-maintained, but without a wheel and the sails tied up, Shanks was wildly impressed that he managed to sail it to God Valley in the middle of a storm—or anywhere , for that matter.

“So this is the boat of an infamous pirate,” Shanks said with an excited grin. “It looks kind of cool, don’t you think?”

“Meh…” Shamrock murmured, and Shanks rolled his eyes. He peered into the boat and observed, “Some supplies here, but they’re spoiled from the rain.” There was a bag of supplies, like food or first aid equipment. “Maybe he came to the village to get stuff. You said he was in our backyard, hiding in the clothes… He was probably planning to steal from us.”

“He’s a pirate, that’s to be expected,” Shanks conceded. He hardly imagined that an infamous pirate would be paying for his supplies. “Not like we’ve got anything for him to take, anyway.”

“Mama said our wine is really good,” Shamrock suggested.

“Does he look like an alcoholic?” Shanks questioned, pondering the question with a surprising amount of sincerity. Mihawk seemed like someone who would want to keep a clear head. If he drank, it’d probably be alone. “Maybe… He’s a pirate, so he probably drinks a lot.” Shamrock looked through Mihawk’s things, trying to find anything suspicious, and Shanks asked, “Do you really think we should be going through his stuff? What if he kills us?”

“I highly doubt he’s in the right physical state to kill us,” Shamrock said. Shanks couldn’t help but think his twin was highly underestimating Mihawk’s ability to kill when impaired. “Besides, I’m just checking if he has anything on him that could hurt us.”

Shanks tiptoed to look over Shamrock’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Shamrock turned on his heel to begin walking back to the house. “We probably shouldn’t leave Mama alone with him for too long, too. Let’s go.”

---

Mihawk roused awake to see double. His vision was a bit blurry, and he could see two redheads hovering over him. The one with shorter hair looked wide-eyed, his red eyes and hair too vibrant for Mihawk’s level of consciousness.

“Mama, he’s awake!” he shouted.

Instantly, Mihawk grabbed Yoru and swung it at them—harmlessly, as a warning. They didn’t seem too dangerous and were unarmed, so Mihawk was reluctant to cut them down before ascertaining their threat level to him. The one with longer hair stepped protectively in front of the other—they were twins, the longer-haired one must be the elder, given his instant protectiveness. The one with shorter hair watched Mihawk without any fear in his eyes, only awe and curiosity.

A woman rushed in after them. She had long red hair with two braids along the sides that joined into a bun at the back of her head—similar to the twin with longer hair. She looked kind, in a way that Mihawk didn’t feel like he was in as much danger as he believed.

“You’re safe ! You’re safe!” the woman assured, running to put herself between Mihawk’s blade and her sons. Their hands had no callouses, so they weren’t labourers or combatants. Neither was the mother. All three strangers were unarmed. No visible weapons in their reach. Four points of exit—front door, two windows, and a door to another room that likely had another window to exit from, if the light coming through the doorway was any indication. Slight possibility of raiding their supplies before escaping. “You collapsed in our backyard several days ago with a fever and infected injuries. We’ve been tending to you.”

Mihawk looked down and, for the first time, noticed the bandages all over his body. He was shirtless, but his pants were still on. His boots were sitting neatly by the couch, and oddly enough, they looked polished, cleaned of bloodstains. Yoru’s blade had dried blood, but Mihawk didn’t think that even in his feverish haze, he’d let a stranger touch Yoru.

As he tried to ascertain his next moves, the woman said, “My name is Sofia, these are my sons, Shanks and Shamrock.” The younger, curious twin was Shanks, and the wary elder was Shamrock. “I promise we don’t mean you harm.”

“I told Mama not to tell anyone you were here,” Shanks piped up, stepping out from behind his brother. “We saw your wanted poster. We knew the Navy would come for you.”

The Navy would’ve been here by now if the family had reported him. Mihawk could admit that he believed Shanks’s claim. He glanced around the room and then out the window—the town looked calm and unbothered. Mihawk wondered if the World Government even had any authority over this island.

“Where am I?” Mihawk asked.

“God Valley,” Shamrock answered. “West Blue.”

Mihawk had never been here before, but he recognised the name. The island wasn’t affiliated with the World Government, so he was likely safe here—from the Navy, at least. He put Yoru down and winced as he sat up.

Shanks instantly stepped forward to help, but Mihawk lifted a hand to stop him in his tracks. “Don’t touch me.”

“Okay. Sorry,” Shanks said, hurriedly taking another step back. Mihawk held his rib—it felt bruised, and the fact that it was bandaged proved it. He saw fever and pain medication on the small table by the couch.

“I’m hungry,” Mihawk murmured.

“You’ve been unconscious for a week, I’m not surprised,” Sofia said with a smile. “What would you like to eat? I’ll cook it for you.”

Mihawk hesitated—accepting food from paid chefs was one thing; food from a stranger who gained nothing from serving him was another. “Could I…”

“You can watch me cook,” Sofia offered. “Or you can come help me.”

Mihawk glanced between her and the twins, then slowly got up. His left foot shot pain up his leg, and he almost instantly sat back down. “Fuck.”

“You sprained your ankle. I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier. It’s mostly healed, but you probably need to get used to it,” Sofia apologised. “I’ll help you up, okay? Ready?”

One of her hands slipped into his, and the other tucked itself under his shoulder. With a small huff, she helped him stand. Slowly, she guided him to the dining table, and the twins followed close behind. There, she let him sit and said, “You’ll be able to watch me cook from here, if you’re cautious about that. So, what would you like to eat?”

“Can I have red wine?” Mihawk requested.

Her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but she said, “No. Not until you’re better.”

Mihawk sighed in disappointment. “Alright. May I have something hot with soup?”

“Of course,” Sofia said with a smile. “I’ll make ramen for you, hm? I have some ingredients for it leftover from dinner yesterday.”

While she got cooking, Mihawk watched her intently. All the right ingredients were used. Eventually, he could feel the twins sitting at the table with him.

“What happened?” Shanks asked.

“Buster Call,” Mihawk muttered. He could remember his shock when his house caved in on itself while he was sleeping. He’d killed the fleet, wincing the whole time because of his injuries. It wasn’t every day that a hut collapsed on him. “I wasn’t expecting it. My home base is destroyed now, though.”

“Whoa,” Shanks whispered with awe. “I’m sorry that happened. Your boat’s okay, by the way. Sham and I found it. We hid it at the shore where nobody goes.” Mihawk glanced around the home, and Shanks added, “We didn’t take anything. I mean, most of your stuff is soaked and ruined, even if we wanted to.”

Mihawk huffed with slight amusement. “I see. Thank you.”

“Why’d you get a Buster Call?” Shamrock interrogated.

“I raided Punk Hazard because I heard some people were imprisoned there for experimentation,” Mihawk said. They had no reason to help the World Government, and it was likely a story that would be printed soon, if it hadn’t already. “As it turns out, they have some things there of great value to them that I happened to burn on my way out.”

Shanks looked amazed, which made Mihawk believe they’d never even been off God Valley before. “Like what?”

“Research on other races like Lunarians, information about genetic cloning…” Mihawk said, turning away from them to watch Sofia cook. It wasn’t very impressive to him, honestly, but Shanks seemed enamoured.

“You’re like… fighting for the people! Wow, you’re cooler than the papers make you sound,” Shanks said, and then Mihawk heard the sound of his brother smacking him upside his head. “Ow!”

“Not for the people… Just against the government,” Mihawk muttered. He wanted to take down the government, yes, though he wasn’t opposed if he ended up helping people in his quest.

“Yeah, but you’re helping people anyway! I want to be like that, I want to help free people, too,” Shanks said, a bit starry-eyed as he fantasised about a life where he could be some kind of Robin Hood.

“You’re a bit naive, aren’t you?” Mihawk asked, and then a steaming bowl of freshly cooked ramen landed on the table before him.

“Done!” Sofia said, beaming. “Enjoy.”

“I’m naive?” Shanks asked as Mihawk dug into the food. It was delicious, and he felt ravenous. He ignored Shanks while he practically vacuumed the bowl’s contents up. Shanks, Shamrock, and Sofia watched with wide eyes as he finished the ramen within a minute.

He turned to Sofia and gratefully said, “Thank you. That was delicious.”

“I… I think I have enough ingredients to make you more food,” Sofia said. She laughed lightly and commented, “I really underestimated how hungry you’d be! I’m happy you like my food.”

“I hope you value your mother,” Mihawk said, tipping the bowl up so he could finish off the last drops of soup.

“We do,” Shamrock agreed. That must be the first time Mihawk saw a smile from the older twin.

Now that he was done eating, Mihawk answered Shanks, “You are naive because the world doesn’t revolve around wanting to help people. It’s the sort of thing you get punished for. Case in point: my Buster Call.”

Shanks’s mouth pressed into a straight line, like he disapproved. “Hm.”

---

Mihawk ate an insane amount of food. Though with his muscles and how much strenuous activity he did regularly, Shanks couldn’t say he was surprised. Mihawk ate anything Sofia put in front of him. Each time, he’d compliment her cooking and thank her before politely requesting another bowl. Once she was out of ingredients to cook a complete meal for him, Mihawk even offered to pay for new ingredients—his spoils from previous raids of Marine bases.

Shanks admittedly liked Mihawk so far. He was nice to his mother, seemed relatively polite and kind—in reference to his actions on Punk Hazard—and was such a cool person. He knew so much about the world outside God Valley, but Shanks knew he shouldn’t bombard him with questions when he’d only just woken up from a week-long coma.

Shamrock didn’t understand Shanks’s fascination with the Marine Hunter. Shanks couldn’t quite explain it past the fact that Mihawk was interesting and new. Shamrock maintained that Mihawk was nothing more than another unruly pirate, one of many in the world.

Shanks thought no, you’d be hard-pressed to find another pirate like Mihawk. He’d read about countless ones in the papers, and none sounded like him.

Mihawk was allowed to stay in the guest room until he felt well enough to leave God Valley, and Shanks couldn’t be more excited about Sofia’s decision. That was a lot of time to get to know Mihawk before he left!

That night, Shanks knocked on Mihawk’s door before he poked his head in. Mihawk was cleaning blood off his sword, meticulous and careful. He looked up when he heard his visitor and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Just wanted to say I hope we made you feel welcome,” Shanks said, suddenly feeling a bit shy in front of the weathered pirate. “And good night.”

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, then returned his attention to his sword. “Good night, Shanks. Thank you and your family for your help.”

Shanks nodded and shut the door, then leaned against it with a wide smile. He looked even better in person… He went to his room and pulled out Mihawk’s wanted poster (he’d cut it out of the paper and kept it in his drawer). He looked a bit softer in person, a bit more “innocent”. Now that he’d been cleaned of blood and grime, Mihawk looked refined and gentle, nothing like the bloodthirsty criminal pirate the papers painted him as.

Chapter 2

“Fuck.”

Shanks knocked on Mihawk’s door, calling out, “Are you okay?”

There was a brief pause, then the Marine Hunter said, “I’m fine. Leave me, please.”

“Look, if you need help, I’m down to be that,” Shanks offered. It was fairly late at night, but his room was next to Mihawk’s guest room, and he heard some sounds of agitation through the thin walls. It worried him, so he went to check on him.

Mihawk hesitated before saying, “If you’re not going to go away, then come in and close the door.”

Shanks did as he was told, being careful not to make too much noise and wake up his mother and brother. The door closed with a soft click, and then Shanks gaped when he turned to see blood trickling down Mihawk’s shoulder. It wasn’t a concerning amount, but it was obvious Mihawk had irritated his bullet wound.

Shanks whispered in worry, “What happened? You’re bleeding!”

“Quiet,” Mihawk hissed, then looked at his wound. “Your mother didn’t do it, which is fine with me, but I wanted to stitch it up. The issue is that it’s at an awkward angle for me to do it. I have limited movement in my shoulder, and I can hardly see where I’m moving the needle.”

“Why didn’t you wait until morning? Mama could probably help you do it,” Shanks asked, wincing at the sight of Mihawk dabbing blood away with a tissue.

“I think she’s done enough. I usually stitch myself up, anyway,” Mihawk mumbled. “Can you tell me where to angle it? That’s all I need you to help me with. I’ll do the rest myself.”

“Okay.” Shanks drew a breath for courage, then sat on the bed beside Mihawk, prepared to direct him. Mihawk bent his wrists at awkward angles to reach the bullet wound, then glanced at Shanks. “A little more to the left. My left.”

Mihawk inched his hands to his right, and Shanks gently nudged them into the right position. Mihawk tried to pierce his skin with the needle, then hissed and dropped it.

“Fuck. It isn’t usually this difficult,” Mihawk muttered, bending down to find a glimmer on the floor where the needle had dropped. Shanks instantly fell to his knees to try looking for it for him, not wanting Mihawk to aggravate his wound. Shanks spotted it where it'd rolled a bit under the bed, and picked it up. Instead of giving it back, he fished out a still-packaged needle from the sewing kit Mihawk had borrowed. Mihawk frowned and asked, “What are you doing?”

“It’s my house, but I don’t feel good about you piercing your flesh with something that’s dropped on our floors, even if you can sterilise the needle,” Shanks explained. He sat beside Mihawk, his thumbs situated to tear open the needle’s packaging at any moment. “I’ll help you.”

Mihawk stared at him, unconvinced. “Have you done it before?”

“I mean… a wound, no, but I’m pretty good at sewing! My mama taught me. And also, I’ve watched the village’s doctor stitch some people up before, I’ve just never tried it myself,” Shanks said. Mihawk still looked apprehensive, so Shanks negotiated, “Look, I can at least get the needle in the right spot for you first. If you think I can’t do it correctly, then you can take over, and it’ll probably be easier after I put it in the correct place, right?”

The other man bit his lip. “Fine. Do it. I don’t have another choice.”

Shanks slipped on the surgical gloves that Mihawk took but hadn’t bothered to use. “Why didn’t you use these?”

“I usually don’t.”

“What if you get infected?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mihawk muttered. “I’ll get over it.”

Once he had the gloves on, Shanks ripped the needle’s packaging open and then hurriedly brought it to Mihawk’s skin. The doctor told him that once a needle comes out of its packaging, it starts losing its sterility, so he should use it as quickly as possible. He angled the needle where it should go and, without warning, pierced Mihawk’s skin.

He hardly flinched, which made Shanks wonder how used to this he was.

“Do you always care so little about what happens to you?” Shanks asked as he worked. When Mihawk didn’t ask to take over, Shanks tried to remember what he saw the doctor do and carefully sewed the hole shut.

“It’s not that.”

“Okay, rephrasing. Do you always downplay your injuries?” Shanks asked instead.

Mihawk glared at him at the question. “I don’t downplay it. I’m used to it. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it,” Shanks said, squinting as he brought the needle through the skin again. Just two more stitches should do. “And I know, you’re a criminal, people would say you should be if you’re gonna do what you do, but I don’t agree… You must have gone through something truly hurtful to do something like that. I really believe that, so I don’t want to judge you. I don’t think you should suffer more than you already are, so I’m happy to help you.”

Mihawk stared at him in quiet contemplation and ultimately chose not to say anything. Shanks finished off the stitches and smiled proudly at his work. It didn’t look half bad! He wiped it down with an anti-bacterial wipe, hoping it would suffice, and felt that he did a good job. He tossed the needles into the bin and then picked up a fresh roll of bandages. After a quick glance to get consent and a nod from Mihawk, Shanks began to unroll the bandages on Mihawk’s shoulder. He wrapped it around—over his shoulder, under the armpit, and a bit on the bicep. He flushed again when he had to hold his muscular arm in place to wrap it. What was wrong with him?

“Done,” Shanks whispered as he fastened the bandage in place. “Thanks for letting me help.”

“I should be thanking you,” Mihawk muttered. It was as if Shanks proved to be more capable than he initially believed for a sheltered village boy. As Shanks moved to leave the room, Mihawk suddenly asked, “Have you truly never left God Valley?”

“Nope. Been here my whole life,” Shanks said, turning back to face the other man. “I wish I could go see the world someday, though.”

“Some of it is impressive,” Mihawk admitted. He stared at Shanks’s anticipatory look, then caved and said, “There is an island… in the sky.”

“In the sky!” Shanks whispered excitedly as he sat back down. “Have you been there?”

“Once, though it was purely by accident. I enjoyed my stay, though.”

“Please, tell me everything!”

---

They started spending their nights that way—once Shanks was sure everyone was asleep, he’d sneak to Mihawk’s room, and the well-travelled Marine Hunter would recount a new adventure for him. Sky Island, Fishman Island, Dressrosa, Punk Hazard, Water 7. He told him about the more legendary pirates out there, like Whitebeard, Big Mom, and Kaido. Legends like Gold Roger, Rocks D. Xebec. Shanks loved every story—through them, he learned more about the incredible world outside of God Valley, and more about the Marine Hunter’s true nature.

Sure, he didn’t necessarily need everyone to be asleep to hear Mihawk’s stories—Sofia and Shamrock have asked him their own questions in a similar vein to Shanks’s that he’d answered—but it was something about being the only two awake that Shanks liked. He liked having Mihawk’s attention, in a way. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt nice when it felt like they were in their own little world, discussing fantastical stories about floating countries and islands deep in the sea.

Mihawk was the most interesting person he’d ever met! Shanks couldn’t help but feel excited to wake up each morning to see him again, and then for the sun to set so he could get that day’s new story.

In the daytime, while Mihawk let his body repair itself, he would help Sofia with simple chores—whatever he could help with without the other villagers seeing him. He’d help fold laundry, cook, and tidy the house. It was a bit surprising to see someone with such a violent reputation be so refined and gentle. A guy worth a billion Berry was quietly folding clothes in their living room.

More surprising was when Mihawk asked Sofia, “Do you have a garden?”

“A garden? Oh, I’ve been meaning to have one! I’d like to grow my own vegetables for my sons,” Sofia answered, delighted by the question.

Mihawk offered, to the surprise of everyone else, “I have a garden at home. I can help you. If you give me a disguise, I can accompany you into town, and we may obtain what we need.”

Sofia glanced at her children, pleased by such an offer. Shanks’s heart fluttered, seeing how nice Mihawk was being to his mother. “Really, you would? That’d be perfect! Pick out what you need from our clothes, let’s go this afternoon!”

Shanks followed Mihawk into his room as he rifled through his closet for clothes. Shanks and Shamrock were slightly smaller in frame and shorter than Mihawk, so he wasn’t sure if the twins’ clothes were good choices. Still, their mother was very lean in build, and her clothes probably wouldn’t be that much better of a fit for him.

Mihawk pulled out a floral-patterned button-up shirt, a hat, and a pair of sunglasses. He left it on Shanks’s bed, then went to Shamrock’s room and retrieved a pair of black pants that Shamrock had already prepared for him.

“You have a garden?” Shanks asked curiously as Mihawk organised his disguise.

“Yes. I grow my own food, and some flowers,” Mihawk answered without looking at him. Suddenly, he took his shirt off and let it drop to the floor, revealing his toned back. Shanks gasped against his will, and then flushed when Mihawk instinctively turned to him, showing off a perfect six-pack. Shanks wasn’t sure he’d known some of these muscles even existed until his eyes started drinking in every little contour of the other man’s body. “Shanks?”

“You—Ah—hm,” Shanks stammered. Damn it, get yourself under control! He shook his head to focus, but reopened his eyes to see Mihawk’s muscular upper body on full display. Did all pirates look like that? He looked like one of those ancient statues Shanks saw in books. Was Shanks supposed to feel this warm? He started to fan himself, feeling heat rise in his cheeks the longer he looked at Mihawk. He’d never felt like that before; what was wrong with him? “Um.”

Mihawk followed Shanks’s gaze down his own torso, then said, “This cannot be the first time you have been in the same room with another shirtless male.”

“Of course not! I’ve played sports with the other guys here,” Shanks said defensively.

Mihawk stared at him, unconvinced, before he turned back to his new outfit. “If it makes you uncomfortable, you may go. It’s not as if I requested you to stay.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Shanks asked, feeling like he’d make everything unnecessarily awkward.

“Do as you wish. I don’t care if you watch,” Mihawk muttered, pulling on Shanks’s shirt. Predictably, he was a bit muscular for it—it wasn’t like he was popping out of it since Shanks liked wearing baggy clothes anyway, but he also wasn’t fighting people every day, so his arms weren’t as thick as Mihawk’s. Shanks tried to subtly wipe his mouth because it almost felt as though he was salivating.

Why? What was going on with him? Why was he acting like that?

Shanks pretended to entertain himself with the room’s details, sneaking looks at Mihawk as he got dressed. He didn’t bother buttoning the shirt up the whole way, leaving his pecs in view. It almost felt criminal that he’d covered the abs up—considering all the work he put into sculpting them!—but God Valley wasn’t full of superhuman combatants like him. His body would probably catch more attention than he would want.

To feign nonchalance, Shanks asked, “Just curious—why’d you wanna help Mama with a garden?”

“I’m bored and I miss gardening,” Mihawk answered. Shanks glanced at him just in time to see him pull his pants down, and he hurriedly looked away, his face burning with embarrassment. “I can’t sail off yet. I don’t feel like I’ve fully recovered from illness, and my body is still healing. I can’t train because it will attract attention. I need something to do—ergo, gardening. Your mother seemed interested, too, which was perfect.”

Shanks nodded, facing the wall as though put in a time-out. “Did you garden a lot with your mom?”

“No,” Mihawk replied. The answer was too curt, and it gave Shanks a dreadful feeling; he knew why.

“Your dad?”

“No.”

“Me neither,” Shanks sympathised. “I never knew my dad. Mama doesn’t like telling us about him. Sham and I won’t push.”

Mihawk asked, adjusting his pants, “Do you wish you knew him?”

“Not really. If Mama doesn’t even like talking about him, then I don’t want to know a guy like that,” Shanks said dismissively. “Besides, she raised us herself. Even if he showed up tomorrow, I’ve got no interest in getting to know him. What kind of jackass leaves my wonderful mom on her own?”

The corner of Mihawk’s mouth quirked up minutely. “A moron, perhaps.”

“The biggest moron!” Shanks agreed. Mihawk adjusted the hat on his head, then put on the sunglasses. He looked handsome, even with his unique eyes covered. If Shanks saw him out on the street, he’d want to talk to him. “Can I come with you?”

Right then, Sofia poked her head into the room, wearing a bright smile. “Shanks, I’d like you and Shammy to clean your rooms while we’re out.”

“What? Mama…” Shanks protested. He’d already gotten excited at the idea of going shopping with his mom and Mihawk. “Okay, fine.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll make your favourite tonight, okay?” Sofia offered, kissing Shanks’s forehead before Mihawk followed her out.

---

Shamrock noticed his brother had been acting differently the longer Mihawk stayed with them. He could hear Shanks sneaking out of his room to Mihawk’s in the middle of the night. He had no idea what they were doing, but given how he couldn’t hear anything else, he assumed Shanks had been pulling stories from Mihawk. Why he couldn’t just do that in the daytime, though, Shamrock had no clue.

In the day, Shanks took any chance he had to look at or talk to Mihawk. If the Marine Hunter were helping Sofia cook, Shanks would ask if he could help in any way, for the simple excuse to hang out in the kitchen with him. If Mihawk were folding laundry, Shanks would help and chat—even sneakily unfolding some to extend their folding session. Shamrock had caught Shanks subtly sniffing Mihawk right after a shower on two separate occasions, and both times, he looked embarrassed to get caught by his twin.

Even when Mihawk wasn’t in the conversation, Shanks would find a way to bring him up. He’d mention the pirate’s many adventurous stories, how his brain was an endless encyclopedia of the world and swordsmanship history, how good he was at cooking, how nice it was that he was kind to their mother, how cool his reputation was, or his impressive muscles.

When Sofia and Mihawk left to shop for gardening equipment together, Shanks looked dejected that he had been tasked to stay home and clean his room. He hadn’t even said a word since the two left. Shamrock had never seen him act like that in their nineteen years of living.

“Hey, what is with you?” Shamrock finally asked.

“What?”

“You’ve been acting weird around Mihawk,” Shamrock explained. “You’re clamouring after his attention like in those romance books I saw in the library.”

“Huh? What?” Shanks spluttered, flustered by the accusation. “No! I—He’s a guy! And I’m a guy!”

Shamrock blinked at his brother, feeling perplexed by such a response. “You cannot be serious, Shanks. You realise that is a normal thing, don’t you? John and Zekiel ten huts over are—”

“I know that exists, oh my God,” Shanks mumbled, embarrassed to have come across that way. “Either way, I don’t feel that way about him!” He dismissively flapped a hand in his brother’s direction.

“Are you gay?” Shamrock asked flat out.

“What? I—Hm? Nope,” Shanks stumbled over his words.

Shamrock narrowed his eyes at him and folded his arms judgmentally. “Do you think it’s not gay to describe to me, in unnecessarily vivid detail, the curve of Mihawk’s abs?”

Shanks defended, “Don’t they do that in bodybuilding competitions? Doesn’t mean the commentators are gay.”

“You know, if you’re gay, none of us would care,” Shamrock said, trying a different approach. Maybe Shanks was denying it because he wasn’t sure how the family would react…

Shanks’s face flushed even more somehow. “I know! I’m not gay, though. Mihawk’s just an objectively sexy guy!”

“Sexy,” Shamrock echoed flatly.

“You know what I mean!” Shanks said, turning away to hide his heated face. “He’s just cool, and smart, and I like how his muscles feel. They’re like, hard, you know? Steel.”

Shamrock rolled his eyes so hard, he almost saw God. “Deny it. I can prove you’re gay.”

“How?”

Shamrock didn’t answer, leaving him to clean his room in silence until Sofia and Mihawk came home. The two put their new purchases down in the living room, chatting about something (it seemed like he’d told her one of his stories upon her request).

Shanks, expectedly, ran out to greet them. With him there, Shamrock asked, “Mihawk, I was wondering; are you gay?”

With pure nonchalance, Mihawk answered, “Yes.”

He turned to Shanks, whose face turned so red that he looked as though he was about to explode. “You… You are?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Mihawk questioned, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course not!” Sofia said happily. “Now, let’s go arrange the pots—”

“You have a boyfriend?” Shanks asked, before looking shocked that the question even came out of his mouth.

“No,” Mihawk said, and then Shanks retreated to his room. Shamrock felt a smug smile form on his face as he watched his brother run.