Chapter Text
It never ceased to amaze me how the dreary atmosphere surrounding Kuraigana seemed to stop only about a mile off the island's coast. As if an invisible wall had been placed around the isle, a warning to any approaching ships, turn back or die. A warning I might have headed as a younger pirate, but now, I am overjoyed to enter the perpetual darkness that shrouds the island.
The vessel I travel on is remarkably similar to that of the lord of this island. A small, single-manned ship, compact enough to host only one small room that functions as a bedroom, restroom, and kitchen all in one. A simple ship really, one center-mast hoisting an unmarked sail and salt worn wood that has clearly been meticulously cared for. Although it does lack the dramatic charm of that specific Warlord's own coffin shaped vessel, it is mine nonetheless and I will care for it as such.
Approaching the beach of Gloom Island the large, pointed spires of Kuraigana bring a sense of comfort. I spy my host's docked vessel, and with the expertise of someone who has spent the majority of their life at sea, pull my own ship up to dock next to his. It's become muscle memory at this point. The familiar feeling of ropes beneath calloused hands, the strain of muscles as I ensure the ship is safely tied down.
However, there is this incessant gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, something isn't right. Perhaps it's the lack of screaming humandrils I am typically greeted with as I arrive back at Kuraigana. Maybe it's the fact that the ghost girl Mihawk has taken as his ward isn't there to greet me as she typically is, peppering me with questions about my travels. It could even be the odd tingling sensation that's begun in my chest since docking at the beach. Either way, it's unsettling.
Quickly I finish prepping my ship to be left docked, collecting my travel bag before slinging it over my shoulder and making my way to the castle. The walk was oddly quiet, doing nothing to settle my nerves. A newcomer to this territory might think this is normal for a seemingly uninhabited and inhospitable island, but to not even hear the humandrils fighting in the distance is setting me on edge.
Mihawk’s presence has never bothered the creatures before, at least not in the last decade since he's claimed the castle as his home. My hand comes to rest firmly on the handle of the long sabre kept strapped to my hip. A gift from several years ago when the Warlord had seen the sorry state of the stolen sabre I had been wielding before then. I had found the masterfully crafted blade set delicately on the bed of an inn I had been staying in at the time while my ship was being repaired, accompanied by a single note in the elegant handwriting of the swordsman.
‘Don’t make me regret this’
The man didn't even bother to sign the damn note. Over confident bastard.
As I approach the worn steps of Kuraigana the sound of animated and lively conversation echoes loudly from behind the grand wooden doors sported by the castle. My grip tightens on the hilt of my sword and I press an ear to the door. It's quite unlike Mihawk to host such rowdy company, hell, host at all. That is, unless they were unceremoniously dropped on his doorstep and had nowhere else to go, courtesy of another Warlord.
I take a breath, steeling myself for whatever scene I may walk into before slowly pressing one of the grand wooden doors open. What I am met with is, unexpected to say the least. Mihawk sits at the head of his large dining room table, my first upset as he usually takes his meals in the library when he's home at Kuraigana. More shocking, however, is the large band of pirates all laughing and chatting loudly amongst themselves.
Mihawk’s sharp gaze immediately finds me as I try to slink in without drawing any more attention. Beside him sits another man, mop of red hair turned away from me as he endlessly chatters at Mihawk. The small twitch that pulls at his lip tells me he is not exactly pleased with the current state of affairs. Not wishing to get absorbed into whatever hosting nightmare that has been unwantedly thrust upon him, I try to slide along the wall of the large room, adopting the ‘If I move as if they don't matter then they wont think I matter and wont even recognize me’ ideology. An ideology I am finding isn't actually real and I had just made up in that instance as I hear a deep and upbeat voice call out loud enough to draw the whole pirate crew's attention to me.
“Mihawk, you didn't tell me you had such a beauty living with you! Tell me, is this your special someone?” You could practically hear the eyebrow wiggle in his words.
My back stiffens as I hear his laugh, smooth and warm like barrel aged whisky. I turn, facing the man, so this must be Red Hair Shanks, the infamous pirate Emperor in the New World. Three long scars cover one of his eyes, a shadow of stubble on his face, grin plastered ear to ear. I’ve heard plenty about this one and his ‘less than savory tendencies’ as Mihawk often puts it. What a shame, he’s quite handsome, I note absentmindedly.
I chose to ignore the pirate, instead turning to Mihawk after regarding the Emperor as if he were nothing more than an ill-mannered dog sitting at the table. It only takes a few measured steps before I stand next to where the Warlord is sat.
“Mihawk, my love, I know you have a penchant for picking up strays but this,” I gesture somewhat dramatically to the table filled with pirates “this is a bit extreme, even for you.”
Shanks lets out an amused and playful gasp “my love” he repeats, settling his chin in his hand, elbow on the table. His full attention now on the two of us.
I ignore him again, once again choosing to act as if he wasn't even there. If anything, I want the Yonko to get the wrong idea about my relationship with the Warlord. The stories Mihawk has told me about the notorious pirate border somewhere between rakish and downright debaucherous.
Mihawk quirks an unamused eyebrow at the nickname I have suddenly bestowed upon him. Serves him right, he could have at least warned me of his guests, left a note on the door or something.
Graciously, he chooses to play into the little game I'm cooking up. “You’re home earlier than expected. I was hoping Red Hair and his crew would be gone before your arrival tomorrow.” His tone is calm and collected, coming off like the fine wine he often indulges in.
“The seas were calm and I got everything I needed. Once you're done here I'd like to discuss it further,” my eyes dart to Shanks and back again “in private.” It's not a request. The last thing I need is for that tomcat to start snooping around my business.
Mihawk offers a simple not in response before I pull away from his side, looking to leave. That is until the bourbon smooth voice calls out to me again.
“At least join us for dinner, sweetheart.”
My expression remains unamused, especially given the nickname he's thrust upon me. A deep scowl makes its way to my lips, clearly not in the mood for these kinds of games. My eyes find him, staring daggers into his soul. The last thing I want to do is entertain a large group of increasingly drunken pirates after spending the last week at sea. However, Mihawk’s subtle glance in my direction is all the persuasion I need, who am I to deny my closest confidant in his hour of need.
“You’re in my seat,” I practically bite out.
Shanks looks around the table, clearly amused that he's gotten a reaction out of me that wasn't complete ignorance of his presence. He stands, making his way around to the back of the chair, pulling it out for me to sit. Somewhere down the table a member of Shanks’ crew begins preparing a plate from the large banquet setting.
“My apologies, sweetheart, I wasn't aware this one had already been claimed.”
I move to sit, allowing Shanks to push the chair in behind me, taking careful not of how his presence lingers just a moment longer than he has to.
“I have a name,” I grumble inwardly.
“And I bet it's just as beautiful as you are.” he hums back, all too pleased with himself.
Mihawk lets out a small dejected sigh, sliding a glass of wine over to me, a gift I accept heartily. The plate of food that had just been prepared for me makes its way down the lengthy table before being intercepted by Shanks. He expertly balances the plate in his hand while using his elbow and bicep to drag another chair over to where I’m sitting, placing himself directly between myself and the Warlord.
He sets the plate down in front of me, the smells wafting up and making my mouth water. It is quite assuredly better than the rations I’d been living off of for the past week. I barely manage one bite before Shanks is peppering me with questions.
“So how long have you and Mihawk been seeing each other?”
“A little over a decade.” The reply is curt, not entirely a lie. I have known Mihawk for that long, but not in the way Shanks is implying.
He lets out a gasp “and all this time Hawk Eyes hasn’t told me a peep about you. How rude of him to keep such a beauty from me.”
I might have laughed at his dramatics were I not so tired.
He leans in closer to me “tell me, sweetheart, does he treat you well?”
An uncouth snort forces its way out, "exceptionally."
Shanks only smiles wider at my response and I continue eating, wishing to get this meal over and done with as quickly as possible. The grip on my wineglass tightens as I feel his fiery gaze observing my every move.
“And what if I could treat you better than that?” he purrs “because I’m not buying for a second that the two of you are entangled, at least not romantically.”
He’s observant, I'll give him that. My voice is leveled and stern as I turn my head to address him. “Tell me, Captain Shanks, Yonko of the New World, does your massive ego usually help or hinder your romantic pursuits?”
He lets out a good natured laugh at my jab. “So she does know who I am. And here I thought Hawk Eyes never talked about me.” His voice drops lower, just loud enough for me to hear as he pulls himself just slightly closer to me “but I guarantee my ego isn't the only massive thing about me.”
Typical pirate, scratch that, typical man. I let out a sarcastic scoff, sipping my wine once more “1,000 berries says mines bigger.”
Somewhere down the table a pirate barks with laughter while another chokes on his drink, Shanks smile widens and turns to face Mihawk.
“Oh, I like this one.” he quips.
Mihawk only offers the Yonko a sharp glance before returning to his wine. I take the brief moment of respite to quickly finish off the dinner I had been offered. Standing quickly, posture ridged Shanks lets out a small, unhappy whine. It would have been endearing were it not so annoying.
“Leaving so soon?” He sounds almost genuinely unhappy.
Shanks rises from his own seat, Mihawks’ and my own steady gaze assessing his every movement. He takes a measured step closer to me, keeping just enough distance to appear respectful. The curious thought of who might have taught this playboy his unrefined manners crosses my mind only for a moment.
“Its been a pleasure, Captain Shanks, but I will be taking my leave.” a note of insincerity lingering in the word, pleasure.
“Believe me,” he extends his arm, grasping my hand in his own. My heart pounds, an odd tingling sensation growing hot in my chest. “The pleasure was all mine.”
He brings my knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my fingers. The sensation in my chest explodes into a sea of liquid heat, a warm tingling shooting up my spine, extending over both shoulder blades. I stifle a soft gasp in my throat at the shock. My vision tunnels in on him and I can see in his eyes that he has just felt the same thing.
He smirks wide, slowly allowing my hand fall back to my side. I bite my inner cheek, quickly stealing myself, not wanting anyone else to know what just happened.
“Not a word.” I growl out, only loud enough for him to hear before addressing Mihawk. “I’ll meet you in the study later tonight.”
Turing on my heels I quickly exit the large hosting hall, taking the fastest route to the bedroom I had occupied on and off in castle Kuraigana for the past three years. Slamming the door behind me, resting my back on the familiar cool wood I let my head fall forward. Red Hair Shanks, one of the Four Emperors, notorious playboy, is my soulmate.
Fuck, that throws a wrench in things.