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“Tell me again, why do you want to do this?” Benn’s voice had become sharper and sharper, the longer the discussion had gone on, and Shanks knew his first mate was close to exploding. This however was something he couldn’t compromise on, even if he wanted to. His heart clenched in misery.
“I need to find the Nika Nika no Mi, Benn,” Shanks answered, again. Like he had done many times during this conversation. Benn simply snorted.
“Yes, you said that. The why is still escaping me, though.” Shanks flinched at the bitter undertone he heard. It cut something deep within him.
“I…” Shanks’ words escaped him. He was aware that the real reason would only serve to make Benn angrier, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Benn however just looked at him out of cold grey eyes. They were hard as steel. “I promised Roger”
“Oh,” Benn almost snorted. It sounded derisive. “Of course, if you promised Roger then why would I ever disagree with you?”
“Benn… please.” Shanks knew he sounded pleading, but he wanted - no he needed - his first mate on board with him.
“No! You’re telling me you want to abandon the crew for fuck knows how long, to go to Mary Geoise of all places, because you made a promise with a dead man when you were what? Fifteen? You have a bounty. You don’t even know if they won’t kill you on sight!”
That Benn wasn’t even smoking anymore, just seething with that cold calm presence of his should have clued Shanks in. But he was stupid, and Benn his best friend - more than that if only in Shanks’ deepest, darkest corners of his heart. He needed his approval. It seemed he wouldn’t get it.
“They won’t,” he murmured quietly, and it made Benn narrow his eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“They won’t,” Shanks said again, this time louder. Benn still only stared at him. A shudder rushed down his spine. “They won’t because my brother told me I would be pardoned, if I become a god’s knight.”
“Your brother,” Benn said incredulously.
“He’s my twin. Only that he grew up in the holy land.” Shanks explained. He knew they had briefly brushed the subject when Benn had found out about Shamrock, but Shanks had always tried to brush past it. It wasn’t important that he had a twin. He may be his blood relative but his family was here. On the Red Force. The thought almost made him wince. He knew how his request sounded. But he had no intention to abandon the crew. All he wanted was to find the Nika Nika no Mi so… yeah. He refused to think past that point.
“And you made some stupid promises to the pirate king. For what? To save the world?”
Shanks grimaced. “Basically.” Because even though Benn had said it sarcastically, it was closer to the truth than Shanks wanted to admit, even to himself.
For a moment Benn didn’t answer. Instead he reached into one of his many pockets, fished out a cigarette and some matches. Shanks watched him place the vice between his lips, trying to light one match on his boot but failed. It snapped in half. Benn’s hands were shaking. The sound was loud in the silence.
“Gimme that,” Shanks demanded, but Benn simply tried again, ignoring him. The refusal felt like a slap.
Smoke rose in the room.
“You already made up your mind. Nothing I say will change it.”
The smoke wafted in the air, and the cigarette shook between Benn’s lips. There was something glistening in Benn’s eyes, but Shanks couldn’t define it because Benn simply turned around. Before he left the room, Shanks managed to find his words again.
“Benn, please. You need to take care of the crew.”
His first mate stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn. “Don’t worry, I always do.” Then Benn left, and Shanks was alone with his worries and regrets. The only thing that lingered was the smell of cold tobacco.
What if he simply didn’t go? It was a stupid promise he had made many years ago. Surely someone else could look for the devil’s fruit, and save the world? None of this was worth the fight with Benn or him abandoning the crew. He would simply not - his haki flared, and he dropped to his knees.
The world was burning. Ashes fell on his hair, covering it in sooth. He was fighting his brother, but he wasn’t strong enough. Shamrock was laughing at him, pushing him back. The man had once been his mirror, but now his hair was white, his eyes red, and he was laughing, laughing, fighting like a rabid animal. He slashed his sword at him, Shanks was too slow… and suddenly crashed down when he was pushed out of the way. In front of him Benn stumbled, fell. His torso was open, blood splashed on the ground, and Shanks was screaming. Around him lay the dead bodies that had once been his crew. All while Shamrock was still laughing, laughing, laughing.
He gasped, and tears streamed down his face. No, Shanks couldn’t stay. Not if this was the future that would happen, if he stayed.
“You said it will only take a few weeks, Shanks. A month, maybe two. Now three months are gone, and you still don’t know where that devil’s fruit is.”
“I just need a little more time.”
“What is a little more time?”
“I don’t know, Benn. A month, maybe two?”
“Fuck you. A little more time should be a week, not two months.”
“I’m sorry, Benn. But I need to do this.”
“Yeah, you know what? Tell that to the crew, not me.”
“Benn…”
***
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know Benn. It’s harder than I thought.”
“I figured, after half a year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes! Fuck you for thinking otherwise.”
“I don’t know what to think…”
“I-” “Fuck, I need to get back.”
“Yeah, well… go. It’s what you do these days.”
***
“You look ridiculous.”
“I know. I know. It’s not the most flattering outfit in the world.”
“Did you tell the crew you’re here?”
“I wanted to see you first.”
“Well, you saw me…”
“Benn…”
“Go, meet the crew, Shanks.”
“You’re not asking me how long it will take?”
“No… I doubt you know it.”
“Benn…”
“Go meet the crew, Shanks. Some of them need the reminder who their captain is.”
It was a dark night. The moon was covered by clouds, and the sea for once calm and almost eerily quiet. That the Red Force was anchored so close to Mary Geoise should concern Shanks, but he had long accepted that Benn would not sail further away than a week's worth of travel. Shanks longed for the familiar planks of his home. He longed for the ease of sailing with his crew. A good party, that would be a nice change to the dull formality of Mary Geoise and the brainwashed mentality of his brother. Shamrock was so set in his ways, even though he had no idea what it meant to live in the real world. If only he could stop… but he still wasn’t further to finding the Nika Nika no Mi than in the beginning of his disguise as a God’s knight. Maybe he should just stop…
He jumped, and when he landed on board of the Red Force he instantly felt calmer. That was until the barrel of a gun was placed at his head.
“Don’t move,” a familiar voice said, and Shanks couldn’t stop himself from laughing incredulously.
“Benn, it’s me.”
“Wha…?” Why did Benn sound so … besides himself? The barrel of the gun shook a little. Not much, but enough for Shanks to notice. As if to help him the cloud moved, to let the Moonlight reveal his face. Yet, it still took a moment too long until Benn put his rifle down. When Shanks turned to look into his first mate’s eyes, he almost paled by the sight he was presented with. Benn’s eyes were sunken in, his long hair hung around his face in messy strands, and he was thin. The shirt that usually was snug tight was loose around his torso and forearms. There were also dark rings under his eyes.
“Fuck, Benn. What… why are you so,” Shanks rang for words. He had too many questions, and he wanted to form all of them at the same time. What he managed to get out was: “When was the last time you slept?”
It made Benn snort, and he looked away. Only when he did, did Shanks realize he had been staring at his eye. At his scars. As if he needed the visual reminder to know it was him, even though the three lines over his eye weren’t that old. Too young, honestly. It was another thing Benn had been arguing about with him. Another regret Shanks had. Fuck!
“Don’t remember,” Benn finally said. His voice was flat. It suddenly made Shanks furious.
“Then go to fucking bed! Why are you even up?”
“Because,” and Shanks wanted to take a step back at the coldness in Benn’s voice. That was not his first mate, this distant angry man. Yet, it was unmistakingly Benn. “The marines have been circling us for weeks now.”
“Then why are you still anchoring here?” Shanks shot back, facing the coldness of Benn with his own hot flames. He had no idea who would die first, his angry flames or the icyness of Benn’s distance.
“Because my captain decided he isn’t done playing God’s knight.”
The words felt like a slap. It seemed his flames had been drowned by a bucket of cold truth. He shuddered and grimaced. There it was, the painful guilt. He sighed.
“Go to bed, Benn. I’m here to keep everyone safe.”
But Benn just looked at him, out of tired, restless eyes. “For how long?”
Which was a question to which Shanks could only give an answer that would hurt. He said it nonetheless. “At least for tonight.”
He had watched the sun rise in the east, and he had watched the marine vessels in the distance. Benn hadn’t been lying. Shanks had counted at least ten ships, and he was sure there were more. The why however escaped him. Yes, they were close to Mary Geoise, but besides Benn, most of his crew had a bounty that was laughably forgettable or none at all. The Redhair Pirates shouldn’t draw so much marine power. It was strange. It was strange, too, that the marine vessels were there, but not approaching. If they wanted to attack, they would have had the chance more times than Shanks wanted to admit.
With a yawn he stood from where he had made himself comfortable on the crow’s nest. Despite the long night and the worry inside him, it had felt good to spend a night back home. If only his mind could stop picturing the hollow silhouette that had been Benn. Maybe in daylight it would look less worse? He hoped so. He definitely needed to talk with Benn before he got back to Mary Geoise… he looked down on himself. He still wore his God’s knight uniform. He hated that thing.
“Fuck this,” he murmured to no one but himself, and maybe their Klabautermann, and jumped from the crow’s nest. Breakfast, a talk with Benn, and then he probably needed to head back anyway. His heart clenched at the thought.
He walked the familiar way inside and through the halls until he reached the galley. When he opened the door, he was greeted with a waft of freshly brewed coffee, and a shocked “Captain?”
“Hi,” Shanks grinned at Roo who stared at him for quite longer than Shanks was comfortable with, before he was crushed in a desperate hug.
“You’re back,” Roo said disbelievingly and almost hopeful. It made Shanks’ heart drop. His good mood vanished instantly, and it must have shown on his face because Roo’s smile slipped.
“Sorry…” Shanks’ voice was meek. “But I will be here for breakfast.”
Roo blinked, and there was something dark in his expression, before he laughed. “Well, then I better make pancakes. They are still your favourites, aren’t they?” And despite the cheery nature in Roo’s tone it hurt to know the afterquestion was loaded with doubt.
“Of course they are. Your pancakes especially.”
“Well, pancakes it is then,” Roo grinned, and at this exact moment the door to the galley opened. Shanks turned his head.
“Did you say pancakes?” Yasopp’s voice was full of gleeful anticipation. At least, however, until his eyes fell on Shanks. Something in his demeanor changed, and Shanks shuddered when he realized his sniper was eyeing his uniform… and him from head to toe. He was almost snarling, but didn’t say a word. He simply turned, and walked back from where he came from.
“What…?” Shanks couldn’t stop himself from saying. What was happening? Roo, however, just looked at him almost apologetically.
“Don’t hold it against him. We’re all a little on edge these days, and he’s gotten bad news from home last week.”
“What kind of bad news?” Shanks asked, and he dreaded the answer. It wasn’t Roo however who answered him but Benn, who had just appeared in the galley, too. He stood in the doorframe, and if Shanks had thought Benn would look better in daylight he had been sorely mistaken. He looked worse.
“We should talk.”
Roo had promised him he would place some of the pancakes aside, but Shanks had lost all his hunger. Benn looked like a ghost. His first mate always was pale, but now he was a mere hollow of himself. Shanks could see his cheekbones.
“Have you even slept?” he asked, when they had reached the captain’s quarter. Shanks closed the door, and stopped himself from coughing. The room was dusty, like it hadn’t been occupied in a long time. It dawned on him it hadn’t. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the window open. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. Why was everything so wrong?
“A little,” Benn replied, and only now did Shanks realize he hadn’t sat down in his usual spot in front of Shanks’ desk. Instead he stood in the middle of the room, lost.
“Sit down,” Shanks ordered, his voice on edge. All of this made him feel on edge. Since he had stepped on board of his own home he felt on edge, and if that wasn’t the worst feeling he didn’t know what was. Benn sat. “What is going on?”
Benn’s lips became a thin line, and Shanks wanted to smack that distant look out of his face. It looked wrong.
“The crew’s twitchy, restless. No one knows when you’re coming back. If you’re even coming back.”
“I will!” Shanks injected, and balled his fists. He would. He needed to know that he had a place to go back to, to not lose himself up in this godforsaken castle, with people that were so stuck in their ways and beliefs.
“Shanks,” Benn said flatly. There was something in his eyes, but it was hidden behind emptiness. “If you don’t come back soon, there is nothing to come back to.”
He stared at Benn. Simply stared at him without knowing what to say. “What?”
Benn only snorted. It didn’t sound happy. It sounded sad. “This is not what the men have become pirates for. To sail in the same waters for months, seeing the same five islands again and again. Having the constant threat of marines in their back without the means to go anywhere else.”
“You could go somewhere else,” Shanks snapped. But Benn only shook his head.
“No. I asked them. They won’t. I won’t.”
“But…” Shanks didn’t know what to say. On the one hand he felt deeply grateful for the trust he was given, on the other hand he knew what it meant that in a few hours he would leave again. It was so hard not to stay.
“They either leave here with you, Shanks, or they leave to return to their old lives…”
Benn’s voice sounded somber, and it hurt deep in Shanks’ soul. He sat simply because he wasn’t sure if his legs would still hold him. His bed squeaked under his weight. He had forgotten it did that. Thoughts rushed through his head… he didn’t know how long it would take to find the Nika Nika no Mi. By now Shanks was aware it could take even more months, maybe years. Could he really be this selfish?
“What is it Yasopp had heard from home?” Shanks asked, because the other thoughts in his head scared him. This was easier to say… or so he thought until he saw Benn’s face who looked at the floor.
“Banchina’s dead.”
“What? But? I thought?” Shanks had known the woman would die one day. Yasopp had known his wife would die, and he had left with him, Shanks, anyway, because Banchina was one of the strongest people he knew. She was kind and had realized her husband would be unhappy trapped on an island, when his dream was to see the world. But he wasn’t, was he? Yasopp was here with the rest of Shanks’ crew, in the same spot for months now. He had just lost his wife, and he knew he had a son at home. A home he could return to, if Shanks was man enough to face he had a choice to make. It didn’t matter that Banchina wasn’t supposed to die so soon. Shanks hadn’t been here, hadn’t been the captain Yasopp needed in the face of his grief. Benn had been.
He looked at his first mate. Looked at him, and tried to not picture himself besides that strong man. It ripped his heart in two. Not only because Shanks was suddenly aware that he was undeniably in love with Benn, but because it would mean to give up on his best friend, his family, his crew - himself. But…
“If I resign being a captain, would you take my place?” Shanks asked, and he dreaded the answer. He didn’t know if he rather heard a yes or a no. Benn looked at him, looking pained, and then looked away.
“If they accept me, I’d serve the crew as long as I can,” he finally said but Shanks noted that Benn had not looked at him while he spoke. He wanted to cry.
“And if you can’t anymore?” Shanks asked because he needed to know. He needed to know!
“Then I make sure they have the means to go back to any life they desire. None of them have a bounty high enough to hinder them from living peacefully.” Benn’s voice was flat but honest. Shanks knew that it was the truth. Benn would do everything in his might to care for the crew, Shanks saw it in the hollowness of his face. But it also suddenly dawned on him that the words didn’t hold the same weight for his first mate, because Benn had a high enough bounty that the marines would still want him. And Benn didn’t have a place to go back to… or… no. He wouldn’t, would he?
“What about you?” Shanks asked, and he knew he sounded scared. He knew he sounded angry because it was the only means to mask his fear at the moment. He didn’t dare to think Benn would even consider going back to his parents, who had only ever mistreated him.
“Me?” Benn looked so fucking tired. He laughed. It wasn’t an amused sound. “I don’t think that’s relevant here.”
When Shanks left the Red Force that morning, he knew that it would be the last time. He either had to stay away for good and set his men free, or he had to step back into his role as a captain. The problem was he didn’t know what to decide on.
He still was as far away from the Nika Nika no Mi than he had been when he had started all this.
“Didn’t you say that you hated it down at the sea?”
Shanks hadn’t really listened to his brother talk, but the question got his attention. He hated lying through his teeth, but it was needed to not blow his cover.
“Yeah, why?” he said, and his voice was finely tuned to sound both bored and disgusted. Shanks hated even more that he had perfected that sound over the months.
“Because your old crew is quite tenacious. Especially that Beckman fellow.” Shanks stiffened. He couldn’t help himself. He forced himself to not stare at Shamrock, to not reach for his lapel and shake him, demanding to explain what he meant. Thankfully his twin just kept on speaking, and his voice sounded snooty. They looked exactly the same, with the difference of the length of their hair and Shanks’ scars over his eyes, yet they were so different. “Visited their ship some weeks ago, told them to get lost, you wouldn’t come back. He said he needed to hear it from you, or he wouldn’t believe me. I told him I would send the marines to sink their ship, if he wasn’t gone in a month, but that’s tomorrow, and he’s still there. One should wonder if they’re retarded.”
His blood boiled. This fucking bastard had threatened Benn. Now it made sense why Benn had needed to see his scars, to lower the rifle the other day. Now it made sense why so many marine vessels watched the Red Force. Shanks wanted to burn Mary Geoise down to its fucking ground.
“I’d serve the crew as long as I can.”
Fucking moron! Was that Benn’s plan? To get the crew away, and get himself killed?
“But I have to admit he’s quite nice on the eyes. Sad he’s so set on you. Are you willing to share when I make him a slave? I already told Admiral Sengoku to not kill him if he can.”
Blood rushed in his ears. His fists shook with the force he needed to not punch Shamrock in his fucking face. Could the bastard stop speaking? Shanks needed to get back to the Red Force and … kill his first mate for being such a self-sacrificing bastard.
“I guess I’ll find out about it when I get back from Goa.”
Shanks stared at his brother. “What are you doing in Goa?” he asked, and he wondered how he managed to contain himself. Restraint wasn’t his strong suit, but it seemed he was better than he’d ever thought in containing his anger. He was learning a lot of new things about himself.
“Escort of a devil’s fruit. Father didn’t clue me in on more, but it must be quite important. It’s going to be sold.”
The Nika Nika no Mi. Shanks simply knew it would be this explicit devil’s fruit. His grin became devilish, and he finally gave in to the urge. “Thanks for telling me, brother!” he said before he hit Shamrock square in the face. A loud squelch told him he had broken his brother’s nose. His hand shot out and pulled the other close to him. “Never ever touch or threaten my crew or my first mate, again. Do you hear me, never!” he snarled. Something akin to glee burst through his veins when he saw Shamrock pale under him. He knew there would be repercussions, but by the seas he didn’t care. He reached for his coat, ripped it off his shoulders, and threw it on the floor. Once he was back on the Red Force he would burn every last piece of fabric he wore.
A burst of haki rippled through the ship, and even his main mast vibrated from the force of it. But the Red Force was strong enough to withstand it, and it had the desired effect. Slowly the whole deck filled with his men. They stared at him, as if he was a ghost. Maybe he was. When Shanks was sure that most of them heard him, he spoke.
“I’m back. I’m back, and I will stay,” he said as he slowly turned around himself to look at every single member of his crew. His men. His family. “I know you probably have questions, and I will answer them. Later. For now we need to get out of here.”
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Benn. The man looked… worse than even those few days ago. Shanks promised himself he would talk with him later. For now he needed to get them away before Shamrock would really turn the marines on him. Shanks would rather not fight ten or more marine vessels, if he didn’t need to. He was strong but by the sea he probably wasn’t that strong.
“Snake,” he called, and the man simply answered with an “Aye.” “Get me a course to Goa Kingdom.” He heard the affirmation from his crew-mate which was enough for Shanks. “The rest, set sail. I have no intention to stay longer than we need to.” Which sent the rest of the crew into a frenzy of happy shouts and thundering footsteps. Only when the chaos turned to coordinated work did Shanks realize Benn had vanished from the deck. He bit his lips. Fuck.
“Benn,” Shanks said when he found his first mate in his room. The man sat on his desk, head over a chart, but when Shanks entered, he turned his head towards him.
“Captain,” Benn answered, but his tone was still too flat for Shanks’ liking. “Welcome back.”
“You don’t sound happy.” Shanks didn’t know why he said it. He didn’t want to accuse Benn, who had carried the crew the last months. It had been almost a year. But he couldn’t help himself, he was still confused why Benn hadn’t said anything about Shamrock threatening him.
Benn ignored his words, and when he turned back to his chart, did Shanks realize it was rather a map. “Goa Kingdom. Nice place. Probably quaint. East Blue, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” was all Shanks managed to say, because he couldn’t even begin to understand what went through Benn’s head.
“Does it per chance contain a certain devil’s fruit?” Benn asked, and slowly Shanks became furious again.
“And if it does?” he almost snarled.
“I don’t know Shanks. You tell me? What will happen when you get your hands on that fucking devil’s fruit? Will you eat it, become the Sun God like the legend says, and what? Free the world? Drag us all into it?” Benn finally looked at Shanks, and his gaze cut deep. It was sharp. “Does the crew have a choice in it? They love you enough to follow you, do you know that? I love you enough to follow you.” And now Benn’s voice had become desperate. For a moment Shanks had forgotten how to breathe. What? “But these men are my family, and I will not let you lead them into a war. If this is what you think you need to do, then let them go! I will be at your back because I don’t know what else to do with my fucking miserable life, but they deserve a chance to say no to all this madness.”
“Benn…”
There wasn’t time to tell Benn he had not dared to think about the consequences of eating the fruit. There wasn’t time to elaborate on his fears, and concerns, and the promise he made to Roger to give this world a chance. There also wasn’t time to tell Benn he’d rather throw himself into the sea and drown, than ever endanger him or the crew. Canons sounded, and shouts could be heard. He wanted to tell Benn he loved him, too. Loved him more than he could ever find words for, and that Benn was a lot but never that small he just made himself into. If Benn’s life was fucking miserable, than Shanks’ life was as well, because Benn was his life. Instead of saying anything of all those things, Shanks rushed behind his first mate into the chaos that was being surrounded by the marines. He still wore his fucking God’s knight uniform.
Shanks was a mere step behind Benn, but it was enough to watch Benn transform in front of his eyes. In an instant he scanned the Red Force and shouted orders. He told the crew - Shanks’ crew - where to go, and what to do. Everyone followed Benn’s words without a single complaint or even a thought. Benn ordered, and the men went. He had forgotten Shanks.
As if Benn was the captain. As if Shanks wasn’t even there.
It was a simple yet painful reminder that Shanks had abandoned the crew for months, and in a pinch it was now Benn they turned to. Which was all right and good - Benn was first mate, and he deserved all the trust and all the glory - didn’t Shanks know it burned Benn out. The man had never wanted to be captain. He had always been best at being First Mate, and the signs of stress were visible on his face, in the sunken in eyes, in the way he looked haunted even.
This had to stop. It had to stop!
A wave of haki made a bunch of marines fall on the ground, knocked-out, almost lifeless. Many of his men looked at him in surprise and relief, and Shanks grimaced. They shouldn’t need to fear for their lives, and they shouldn’t forget he would always protect them.
“Cut the grappling hook ropes. The moment there’s an opening I want to get away from here,” Shanks shouted, and his order was met with an “Aye Capt’n.” One marine vessel had gotten so close that the marines had been able to enter the Red Force, and Shanks wanted to avoid the same fate with the other ships.
“Captain, they are readying the cannons,” someone shouted from the crow’s nest, and Shanks cursed under his breath. “Starside.”
“Fuck-” Shanks tried to think it through, but before he could form the semblance of a plan, Benn was next to him.
“I’ll take care of that. Get that fucking opening,” his first mate said, and a moment later he was gone again. Something flashed before his eyes, and he gulped. A vision. His haki was flaring. Benn with a head-wound, barely alive.
“Yasopp!” he screamed into the chaos. He prayed that the sniper was still part of his crew, and hadn’t decided sometime in the last two days that it was better to head home. A moment later a voice answered.
“Here!”
Oh thank the sea. “Cover Benn. Bullets from above.” His sword flashed, he blocked an incoming attack, and pushed the marine back.
“Roger that,” Yasopp called from afar, and Shanks didn’t have the time to look after him. Instead he turned towards another ship. It was smaller than the other Marine vessels. Probably faster but not as equipped for a fight. When he saw red hair gleam in the sunlight, he bristled.
His haki flared again. He saw himself holding a devil’s fruit. He saw his brother looking at him disbelievingly. The Nika Nika no Mi was on that ship. They had put the escort a day ahead. Fuck it. Shanks ran towards it. It was a future he didn’t mind. Having gone through all of this, it was a fair reward to get his hands on the fucking fruit that had nearly ruined his crew.
He jumped, and when he looked ahead he saw his brother staring at him disbelievingly.
“So you rather chose these low-lifes than your family.”
Shanks spat at him, and their blades clashed. He was close to his brother’s face, and could see the mirror of his own in his. Yet, Shamrock would never understand. “They are my family. You are a reminder of why there shouldn’t be nobles in this world.”
He pushed Shamrock away. Blocked, swung again. Blades clashed.
“You can still come back, call this off,” Shamrock tried to convince him, but Shanks could only laugh. He parried, attacked, blocked.
“Tell father I quit.”
“I’m sorry for you, Shanks. But this will have repercussions. You’ll regret that choice.” This time Shamrock attacked him, and there was strength behind his attack. But not enough. Shanks had sailed the sea, had been trained by Roger, and he had a crew he needed to protect. Shamrock would never be able to counter that.
“It may have repercussions but believe me when I say, I will never regret choosing my crew.”
Then he darted around his brother, dashed into a door, and let his gut lead him. One door, another. Another. Fucking… where? There! He grabbed the small box that contained the devil’s fruit, stormed back onto deck, and when he dashed for the Red Force, he put all his might into the next attack.
“Benn,” he shouted, and even though it shouldn’t work it somehow did. His first mate had heard him. He was mid-jump when he saw Benn turn towards him. “Get us out.”
Then he slashed the ship his brother was on in half. His feet landed on the planks of the Red Force, and he let the box fall on the ground, heaving. His men, led by his trusted first mate, took the opening and steered their ship away from the fight. Away from that dreadful place that was Mary Geoise.
It was orders and getting away from the fight for quite a while, until Shanks found them far away enough to finally relax at least a little. He hadn’t thought, he had mostly acted, and despite everything Benn had been beside him, acting as his counterpart like it used to be. Only when things slowed down did Shanks realize it wasn’t like it used to be. Benn heaved, and his whole body was shaking. Seeing his trusted first mate so wrecked pained him, and again Shanks realized how small Benn looked. He had lost way too much weight.
“Doc,” Shanks shouted for Hongo, and the doctor appeared a moment later. “Anyone injured?”
His doctor shook his head. It didn’t escape Shanks how Hongo eyed Benn, but his doctor didn’t say anything. Instead he chewed on his lower lip. Before Shanks could ask, though, Benn nodded to the chest Shanks had all but forgotten. It was plain, dark wood, brass hinges, nothing fancy. “Shouldn’t you take care of your loot?”
The coldness of Benn’s voice made Shanks shudder. There was still such a massive rift between them. A rift formed by a year of absence Shanks could only blame himself for. “I’m more concerned for you,” Shanks said quietly. Benn snorted.
“I’m fine!”
He clearly wasn’t, but Shanks had no intention discussing it out with the other in front of the whole crew. He would take care of the devil’s fruit - store it until he decided… whatever - finally get rid of these ridiculous clothes, and then! Then, he would confront Benn, and if needed force him to rest. He was still the captain, and he knew Benn would follow an order. It was only that Shanks dreaded using that method. He had a feeling it would further the distance between them. But Benn’s health was more important, even if it meant losing the man he loved.
“Get me that chest,” Shanks almost growled because he was tired, and things still felt wrong. He wanted the ease back that was being with his crew, but there were too many worried eyes on him. Roo pushed himself out of the mass of people that had formed around them, and brought the box to them. When he gave it over, he didn’t say anything but his gaze sprung from Shanks to Benn and back to Shanks, and it was enough for him to know that his crew felt the rift between Benn and him, too. Fuck.
When he opened the box, Shanks couldn’t stop himself from shaking. He wasn’t sure why. But his hands shook, and Benn’s eyes were hard as steel. The arms of his first mate were crossed as if to distance himself from everything. As if to distance himself from Shanks.
Was it worth losing his crew and losing Benn to save the world? He pushed the clasp of the box open, and when he lifted the lid, it revealed a purple devil’s fruit with a swirl pattern. Definitely the Nika Nika no Mi. Shanks’ heart raced. He felt more than saw Benn turn away from him, and it broke something in him. He reached for the fruit. His haki flared…
His red hair had turned white, his eyes were red, and the three scars over his eyes seemed to almost pop out of his skin. Blood was smeared on his clothes, in his hair, and on his hands. Fire was flaring around him, burning down houses, burning down trees, burning down a ship with a Jolly Roger that showed a skull with two swords and three scars over the left eye. Bodies were littered on the ground, some alive, many more dead. In front of him lay a figure, he knew he once cared about, black hair with silver streaks, eyes open but empty, heart pumping out blood through various wounds. His heart was beating slowly, beating slowly, beating slowly until it stopped. The rifle in the man’s hand rolled away as fingers lost the strength to grip, the last words a whisper that he couldn’t bother to listen to. Instead he laughed, maniacly. He laughed and laughed, not caring a bit for the state of the world. He simply laughed in a stupid fashion that betrayed his usual cheery nature. He laughed, couldn’t stop, while the man he once loved had died in front of him. He couldn’t care.
The devil’s fruit fell out of Shanks’ hand while the vision played before his inner eye. He couldn’t move, had to endure a future he despised with all his might. This was what would happen if he ate the fruit? Him laughing at Benn’s death, so consumed by the fruit’s power that he didn’t care anymore about his best friend?
No!
He heaved, sucked in breath after breath, and slowly turned to look at Benn, who had not left. In his anger and worry and rage, in his despair and in frustration, Benn was still by his side, still next to him, and Shanks could not - would not - kick that devotion with his feet. Benn’s eyes sparkled worriedly, taking him in, and suddenly all Shanks wanted to do was cry, fall to Benn’s feet and apologize. Apologize for what had happened, but also for a future that wouldn’t come because Shanks wouldn’t let it.
“Take that thing away from me,” he said with so much disgust in his voice it made some of his men look at him shocked. “Take that thing, put it away in storage, and if even one of you dares to get too close or dare might eat it, I promise you!” He took a deep breath. “I promise you, I don’t care who it is, I will throw you overboard, and let you drown!” No one moved. He snapped. “Get that thing away from me, now!”
Finally someone stepped forward, closed the box, and put it away. Shanks closed his eyes in relief but the moment he did, the vision flashed before his eyes again. Benn lifeless, his body littered with wounds, and he, Shanks, laughing. By the seas, no! When he opened his eyes he met Benn’s gaze, and the sight of his first mate hit him again. Sunken in eyes, mouth a thin worried line, body too thin, and hands balled into fists. Fuck this! Fuck everything!
“Hongo,” Shanks said with a sharp voice. His doctor shuddered because Shanks only used his name instead of his epithet when something was really wrong. “Take Benn with you. When I join you in fifteen minutes I want to know every single diagnosis that Benn didn’t allow you to say while I was away.”
His eyes locked with Benn’s but it was his first mate who looked away first, defeated. So Shanks had hit the nail on its head. This stupid, self-sacrificing man. Shanks had been gone for too long, and he needed to make things right again.
“The rest get the ship in order,” Shanks said between gritted teeth. “I need to get out of this fucking clothes.”
He almost ripped the clothes from his body. Those stupid, ridiculous clothes that had marked him as a god’s knight. As if anyone should ever see themselves as a god. Every single person was worth the same at birth, and only their actions defined them. Not their blood. No birthright. Definitely not a name like Firgarland. Shanks ripped the clothes from his body, and then he ripped every single piece into shreds until all that was left were many colorful pieces of fabric Roo could use as kitchen towels if he liked. Or they could burn them for all Shanks cared. Maybe he preferred the latter option. Then he stepped under the shower, and let the warm water wash away the remaining anger and grief. He couldn’t stop thinking about the vision he had. Couldn’t stop thinking about Benn’s empty eyes, and the way he looked so burned out. Droplets ran down his body, his hair and arms. His hand gripped where the tattoo was, that marked him as a god’s knight, if only a low one, and he screamed in frustration. His fingernails pierced into his skin, and blood droplets joined the water that vanished through the drain, but Shanks knew it would heal too quickly and leave no mark. He would find a way to get rid of that damned thing, one way or another. But it was a concern for another day. He needed a clear head, to talk with Benn. He wasn’t sure if he had one.
He felt quite a lot more like himself when he dressed in his normal clothes, and sighed a breath of relief when he finally put back on his straw-hat. He hadn’t worn it in too long, and he had missed the familiar feeling on his head. When he looked into the mirror he finally saw himself again, and not his brother.
The way to the sick bay wasn’t long. Just a few hallways from his quarters to where he could feel Benn and Doc, when he let his haki reach out. But there was someone else, and before he could face his first mate, he saw Yasopp stand in front of the door. His arms were crossed, his expression cold, and Shanks gulped down any words that wanted to escape his lips to ease the tension he could feel from his sniper. Whatever would come, he probably deserved all of it.
The man had lost his wife, and Shanks hadn’t been there to comfort him in his grief. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Yasopp stood before him, a finger pressed into his chest.
“I don’t fucking care if you’re the captain or not,” he spat, and Shanks let him. “If you hurt him again, I will make your life miserable. He’s the only reason I’m still here and haven’t gone back to Syrup Island, to my son. If I have any last shred of loyalty left in me, then it’s because Benn held this crew together with his own two bloody hands. Hurt him again, and I will hurt you!”
The rage was almost tangible in Yasopp’s words. It wafted around him, but Shanks saw the immense hurt underneath. He hoped he would one day regain back the trust he had so easily thrown to the wind. Shanks didn’t know. If worst came to worst, he would personally command the Red Force to sail to Syrup Island, and let Yasopp go. Even if it would mean he had lost not only the best sniper in the world, but a good friend. He sighed.
“Can I count on that?”
“What?” Yasopp said irritated, and his stance lost the anger. His crossed arms fell, and his stoic expression made way for confusion. Shanks would have loved to laugh at that, but the situation didn’t allow it.
“Don’t you think I don’t know how much I hurt Benn? How much I hurt all of you? I’m fully aware, and I take all the blame. But I can’t undo it. All I can do is try to make up for it, and make sure to never do it again. If that means having people like you holding me accountable, then it’s all for the better. Because the last thing I want is to hurt you even more. All of you, the men, you, Benn. I can’t even say I was a shit captain last year because I’m aware I wasn’t much of a captain at all.”
Yasopp opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out of it. Then he turned around, and all Shanks could see was his back. When he spoke his voice was wavering.
“We never followed only you. We always followed both of you, Benn and you. You may be the captain, and Benn may be first mate, but none of us ever cared quite much for titles anyway. I don’t know if you realize how much you two need each other, but I do. It was madness to see you two wither away, separated from each other.” Suddenly he whirled around, and there were tears in Yasopp’s eyes. He was shaking. “Fix that, Shanks. I don’t know how, and I don’t care, quite frankly, but if you don’t, I promise you, there won’t be anymore Redhair Pirates.”
Shanks knew Yasopp was right. Every decision, every plan, every action, and every course he had ever taken had been done with Benn by his side. Until Shanks had decided to go to Mary Geoise. They had created this crew together, and they needed to lead it together, or they would sink. Shanks rather wanted them to float. To soar. To live, to see many more places, and have many more parties, and be alive. He stepped forward and slung his arms around Yasopp’s frame. The other didn’t return the hug, but he also didn’t push Shanks away, which he counted as a win.
“I promise, I will fix it, Yasopp. Thank you.”
Then he finally stepped into the medical bay, to face the man he loved, and had abandoned for too long.
Shanks honestly hated that place. Not that Doc or any medical bay were responsible for his hatred, it was just that coming to the infirmary always reminded him that life was fleeting. If he stepped into Doc’s area, someone was either hurt or sick. It didn’t make it better that in this case it was Benn who was hurt.
Eyes fell on him when he closed the door, and Shanks pushed his straw-hat off his head, so it fell on his back. Somehow it didn’t feel appropriate to wear it here. He didn’t have any say in medical treatments. He was neither a trained doctor nor would he undermine Doc’s expertise with ill-advised orders.
The aforementioned doctor sat at his desk, but stood when he saw Shanks. Benn had his back turned to him, but he must have heard Shanks come in because he stiffened slightly. It hurt to see that apparently Benn didn’t trust him with his back anymore. Time… what they both needed was time. At least Shanks hoped that whatever was between them could be fixed with time.
“Captain,” Doc murmured, and only then did Benn turn in his seat. Shanks didn’t sit. Instead he leaned against the door.
“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asked, and saw how his doctor changed a look with Benn, who snorted, and then shrugged. Ah, doctor’s oath. They hadn’t talked if it was okay for him to hear Benn’s condition but it seemed he was still trusted enough to be told that information, at least.
“Moderate malnutrition, which caused several vitamin and micronutrient deficiencies, paired with a severe lack of sleep,” Doc said, and Shanks suppressed a sigh. He had thought it would be something like that, but to hear it still made him worry.
“What do you suggest?” Shanks asked, and then, as an afterthought, added: “Will it have long-term damages?”
Thankfully Doc shook his head. “No, no long-term damages. What I suggest is, quite frankly, rest -” The look he gave Benn said everything, mainly that Doc had told Benn so more than once, and Benn had neither listened nor cared enough to heed their doctor’s words. “And he will need a special balanced diet that won’t strain his dietary and cardiac system.”
Shanks looked at Benn, who deliberately didn’t look at Shanks, but rather found something quite interesting in Doc’s medical tools that stood a little aside. It made Shanks want to give him a good shake, but he knew that at the moment that would not help. “Anything else I” - or Benn, which went unsaid - “need to know?”
“No training until I declare it’s okay. No fighting - which should go without saying but apparently does not.” Benn growled at the words, and turned to stare at Doc. Doc stared back, unafraid in face of Benn’s ire because he knew he was right. “And best would be consistent check-ups.”
Before Benn could growl again, Shanks spoke. “Which will happen.” This time the angry expression was directed at Shanks, but he only raised his eyebrow, and after a moment of staring Benn looked back at the medical tools. It didn’t feel like a victory. “Thank you, Doc. Would you do me a favor and talk with Roo about how he can implement this special diet into his routine without too much effort?”
Doc nodded, and walked around his desk. Shanks stepped aside to make space for him to open the door. Instead of stepping outside, however, Doc pulled Shanks into a short hug, and whispered “I’m glad you’re back” into his ear. Then he left Shanks and Benn alone.
The door clicked shut behind Doc. No one moved for three long seconds, and Shanks watched Benn’s streaky hair in the light of the lamp. It had lost some of its shine, which was another reminder that Benn had cared for everyone on this ship other than himself. With long steps Shanks crossed the distance between them, and pulled the chair Doc had been sitting on around the desk. When he was on the same side as Benn, he sat. Benn still wasn’t looking at him.
“I can say what I need to say to your back, Beckman, but I would prefer you look at me.” Benn didn’t turn. Instead Shanks heard him snort, and saw how his shoulders shook slightly.
“What do you need to say, anyway?”
Shanks rubbed his eyes, and let out some air through his nose. Then he inhaled and said, “I’m sorry!”
Benn’s torso shot around, and somehow Shanks got the feeling that the movement must have hurt, because Benn gritted his teeth slightly. But it did accomplish that Benn was looking at him. Still with sunken in eyes, still quite too thin but at least he was here, present.
“Is that it? You’re sorry,” Benn asked, voice humorless, almost bordering on sarcastic. It made Shanks sigh. He knew he deserved this, but it didn’t make it easier.
“Of course not. I know simply saying sorry will never encompass how much I fucked up. I left you alone with the burden of both being captain and first mate at the same time. That was too much, and I am sorry, Benn.”
For quite too long Benn simply looked at him. The words lingered between them until Benn closed his eyes and let his head hang low. “That’s not it.”
“What?” Shanks’ mouth spoke faster than his brain could think. He had accepted Benn’s anger and frustration. He even had anticipated Benn flinging curses at him, or telling him quite plainly that he would refuse to continue being his first mate, even if that would destroy Shanks. He had anticipated fighting with and for Benn. What he had not anticipated was Benn looking outright defeated.
“I’m your first mate. That is what a first mate does, taking over the position of captain when the captain can’t.” He laughed but it was humorless. “You went through all the trouble to get your hands on that fucking fruit, and now you put it in storage? Why even go? Why leave the crew, leave me, if in the end you don’t eat it? Wasn’t that what you tried to accomplish?”
The vision Shanks had seen flashed before his inner eye again. The world was burning to ashes. Benn was dying in front of him and he was laughing. How could he even begin to explain that? Would Benn even believe he had seen a vision so far into the future? How should he even start answering that question?
Benn didn’t seem to care about that because he kept on speaking.
“I tried to leave, you know? I spoke with the men, but they refused. I still considered it, and the more time passed, the more I knew they would follow me. I tried.” Benn took a deep breath, and shuddered. It was so visible it worried Shanks. “But every time I considered it, really considered it, my observation haki flared, and I saw you die. Or become a puppet because of that thing on your arm. And I couldn’t do a damn to stop it.” Tears had sprung into Benn’s eyes, but Shanks almost didn’t register it because the words reverberated in his head. He had seen it…as well? “I couldn’t save you, Shanks!”
He sprung up, and his chair clattered on the ground with the force of the impact. With two big steps Shanks was in Benn’s proximity, kneeling on the floor in front of him, and taking his hands in his. Brown eyes stared into grey ones. They were big and round, and Shanks wanted to kiss every last tear away. He knew that right now was the worst time for such feelings, but he couldn’t help himself. “I didn’t know you had visions, too,” he whispered under his breath, and Benn’s already big eyes became impossibly wider.
“When you told me not to go,” Shanks said with bated breath, “I really didn’t want to. I wanted to say fuck it and stay here.” He finally inhaled, remembering to breathe. “But I had a vision of how Shamrock had eaten the devil’s fruit instead of me, and he killed you. I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Benn asked after a while of them becoming familiar again of being in each other’s presence. Shanks shuddered at the question. He could have, but…
“Would it have changed anything?” Shanks asked, and Benn growled at him.
“I would have known. I could have acted accordingly.” His voice was sharp, but Shanks didn’t flinch back. He simply wanted to draw closer. He didn’t. But he fixated Benn with his eyes.
“Act accordingly how? You couldn’t have followed me into the Holy Land, Benn. It would have played out completely the same as it did.”
Benn grimaced, and then pulled his hands out of Shanks’. It felt like a loss. It felt like pain. It felt like someone had cut his lifeline. “Your brother made quite clear the way I would have been able to follow you.”
The words Shamrock had said to him, about making Benn a slave, and the disgusting notion of sharing - because what that implied was inhuman and gut wrenching - rang in Shanks’ ear. He looked at Benn incredulously, and simply tried to phrase what he had just heard. It didn’t reach him. That was madness.
“Are you insane?” Shanks managed to ask, and tried to gulp the lump in his throat down. It didn’t work. “Why would you ever consider such a thing?”
“Because I love you, you idiot!” Benn said sharply, and Shanks couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t … couldn’t comprehend.
“What about the men? Would you have left them alone?” Because that was what his mind focused on, when all he wanted to tell Benn was that he loved him, too. It was a fucking shit timing to confess their feelings to each other. That was not how Shanks had always wanted to do it. He had considered sunshine, a party, maybe some drunken confession, or in a moment of romantic indulgence a heart to heart during sundown. Not this sharp heartbreak.
“What is left for the men, if you hadn’t come back or eaten the fruit? Nothing! I won’t lead them to war. I wouldn’t let them face you controlled by either a fruit or a person that thinks itself to be a divine being. They would have died,” Benn almost shouted, and there was so much pain laced in his voice.
“You didn’t think I’d come back,” Shanks whispered because what else could he think, hearing Benn’s words? He wanted to cry, but instead it was Benn who had tears in his eyes.
“I saw you die, Shanks. I saw you die, or lose control, or both. I tried to stop you, and I couldn’t. What else was I to think if that is the future I saw every single day?”
His mind reeled. Every day? All the time? “Since when?” he asked, but Benn didn’t meet his eyes.
“Since you left.”
Not days. Not weeks. Months. Benn had had these visions for months. Fucking… of course he hadn’t slept. Of course he hadn’t eaten. He had been confronted with disaster for almost a year.
“And you would still have followed me into slavery?” Shanks almost didn’t dare to ask but he needed to know. It would break his heart, but did that really matter when he was faced with so much misery?
“I would never allow the men to be dragged down with us.” Benn’s eyes were bright and earnest and shimmering with tears. Shanks took his hands again and squeezed. “But I would follow you into hell.”
He needed to breathe. He needed to breathe, and needed to remind himself that this was not the end of their story. His eyes found Benn’s, and in this moment Shanks knew he had never loved anyone as he loved his loyal first mate.
“I don’t deserve you, Benn,” Shanks said with a wavering voice. “But I’m a fucking miserable pirate who’s selfish enough to want you anyway. I don’t care about the world, if doing otherwise would mean you’ll die under my hand. I will always want to protect you, and when I took that fruit and saw you die, I couldn’t… I can’t lose you. Never. I love you.” He laughed a wet, almost sobbing laugh. “I know that’s the most fucked up timing, and if you can wait for me, please, let me make things right again.”
Benn just looked at him. Looked at him - still with sunken in eyes, and way too thin. He needed to heal, and he needed rest. What he didn’t need was a relationship on top of shaky trust, and too many unspoken words over the last several months. Shanks knew all that, and yet, he was greedy. When Benn loosened a hand out of his, to wipe away some tears Shanks hadn’t realized he was crying, he was also hopeful.
“If anyone can defy the future, it’s you.”
He let his head hang over the backrest of the chair he was sitting on. His straw-hat balanced precariously on his hair, wobbling a little but not yet falling down. He sighed into the silence that was his cabin, and wished all of this would be easier. Usually if he was in such a state of uncertainty Shanks would get up, demand Benn’s attention, and ask him what he should do. But Benn was still healing, and the cliff that was between them was still there. Smaller than two weeks ago, but very noticeable. He yawned, and closed his eyes. Snake was waiting for his decision where to sail next, so he could calculate the course, but Shanks simply had no idea what the best direction was. He knew he wanted to get them somewhere relatively calm, to avoid any fights. He wouldn’t risk fights, not until he was sure Benn was back to his health. He also had the faint feeling it should be somewhere away from the Marine’s eyes. If that was even possible on the five seas… if he only had territory for himself. But he was no Big Mom, Kaidou or Whitebeard. He was simply Shanks… he didn’t even have that much of a bounty.
His train of thoughts was disrupted by a knock on the door. He blinked at the ceiling, and let his observation haki reach out. When he felt the familiar presence, he instinctively sat back straight, and called “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Benn. Shanks took in the features of his first mate. He looked leagues better than he had two weeks ago. The rings under his eyes were gone, meaning Benn was finally sleeping again, and with the help of Roo’s good cooking, and Doc’s check-ups he had gained back some of his weight. Not enough, two weeks wasn’t quite enough for months of neglect, but enough that Shanks couldn’t see Benn’s cheekbones protrude anymore. Which was a win in his book.
He was the most handsome man Shanks knew, as well. At least in his eyes. But two weeks was also not enough to go back to this certain part of revelation they both had had. Even when Shanks noted how Benn’s gaze flickered over his own face, stopped at his lips, and then looked away. By the sea, that was the worst torture. He bit his lips, and tried to calm his heart that had sped up a notch. Patience, Shanks. Patience!
“Post came in,” Benn said after quite too long a silence, and only then did Shanks realize Benn held some papers in his hand.
“Oh, something interesting?” Shanks asked. Benn stepped further in, and closed the door. The click sounded louder than it should. Probably because usually they both weren’t so quiet when in each other’s presence. Shanks sighed, and nodded towards the empty stool next to him. “Come, sit!”
He was glad when Benn did just that. Sat down. Then he slid the papers he had carried over to Shanks on his desk. He could have simply given them over, but Shanks didn’t let that bother him. Small steps were still steps.
“Your bounty’s gone up,” Benn said. There was something nervous in his expression which stopped Shanks from immediately reaching for the wanted posters that the papers surely must be. His hand hovered mid air until he decided to retreat it, empty handed. At least for now.
“Usually that calls for a party,” he tried to joke, but Benn just grimaced.
“Not sure if that warrants one,” he answered, and a sense of dread filled Shanks. This time he didn’t stop, when he reached for the wanted posters. Turning them, his own face looked at him; a new photo this time, sporting the three scars over his left eye that the previous wanted poster hadn’t had. Underneath his face he made out Benn’s on another paper, which meant not only his own bounty had gone up. Scanning the wanted poster he took in the amount of money that would now be worth his head. A snort left him.
“They’re joking,” he exclaimed. One billion belly. That was… more than triple of what he previously had. So were these the repercussions Shamrock had talked about? Then he saw what stood underneath, and he couldn’t even laugh about it. “Only dead. Why, I’m flattered,” he said sarcastically, and then put his own wanted poster aside to look at Benn’s.
It took a moment to scan it, but when the content had reached Shanks’ mind, he sprung up, and heaved a breath. “That bastard, I’m gonna kill him,” Shanks said through gritted teeth. Rage had filled his body, and he had nowhere to direct it to. A thump sounded, like it did when something fell on the floor.
“Shanks, your haki,” Benn admonished, and Shanks forcefully suppressed his conqueror’s haki that had exploded into his emotions. He took a deep breath, and slowly sat back down.
“Sorry, did I…?” Shanks asked but Benn shook his head. It relaxed him instantly that he had not seemed to have attacked Benn with it. He looked around, and realized some of the books he had on a shelf had fallen down. He didn’t care too much about them. What he cared about was the bounty on Benn’s head. Half of his own bounty, but other than him, underneath the 500 million was written ‘Only alive’. Because Shanks knew that Shamrock still wanted Benn as a slave. Which Shanks would never allow. Not as long as he was alive. He took the paper, and crumpled it into a ball.
“I don’t care about that,” Benn said quietly, which made Shanks look at him. There was defiance in Benn’s expression. “I have no intention to ever give myself over to your brother. Not alive.”
Shanks gulped the simmering rage that bubbled inside of him down, and slowly reached for Benn’s face. Tenderly he took it between his hands, and something inside of him was relieved Benn let him. His thumbs stroked Benn’s cheeks softly. Some of the black hair that had fallen out of Benn’s ponytail brushed his palm. “He was quite right to put only dead on my wanted poster, because I won’t let anything ever happen to you. Not before someone killed me, and if I find a way, not even then.”
When Benn placed his forehead on Shanks’, Shanks let him. They breathed each other’s air, the clock ticking away the seconds. None of them cared. This was another brick in the bridge that was slowly built to connect them again, and Shanks cherished every small single moment of it.
“I believe you,” Benn whispered. Then he pulled away, and left. But some of his presence stayed, and somehow, when Shanks turned back to the map that lay before him, it wasn’t hard anymore to pick out a destination.
“Snake said we’re staying in West Blue,” Benn said even before he had sat down next to Shanks, who had lifted his coffee mug to take a sip, but instead lowered it back down. His eyes looked at his first mate, irritated. So much for a quiet breakfast.
“Why does that sound awfully accusatory,” Shanks asked, and then grinned. “Don’t you like the West Blue? It has the best sake, in my humble opinion.”
With a huff, Benn rounded the table, and sat in front of Shanks, on the other side. “Don’t act dumb. I know you’re doing that because of me, and you don’t have to.”
Benn was right. Hongo had told him yesterday that Benn would need at least another month before he could resume his training, and if he was lucky, another three to find back to a resemblance of his former strength. Shanks wouldn’t enter the Grandline before Hongo gave his go. He needed his first mate to be alright, and the Grandline could wait. It was just that Benn was stubborn and impatient, and thought the crew minded. No one had said anything, yet, so West Blue it was.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here specifically because I’m on the lookout for a certain kind of sake. Great flavor, can only be found in West Blue, is what I heard. Damn that I forgot the name of the island, but I’m pretty certain-”
Benn interrupted him. “It’s been three months, Shanks. You don’t have to be considerate of my state. I wrecked my body, and I can take full responsibility for it.”
Shanks wanted to say a very few choice words very loudly. But he would not start a fight in the middle of the galley, surrounded by the crew, who were already listening in. He could see how more than a few expressions had darkened, hearing Benn’s words. He wanted to shout but he wouldn’t. Which was probably why Benn had chosen breakfast to start the conversation. Sometimes Shanks hated that Benn was too smart for his own good. He sighed, and placed the coffee mug back down. Was it too early for alcohol? Somehow he had a feeling he needed it. “Listen, …” Shanks started, but was cut off when Yasopp appeared behind Benn, and placed a hand on his shoulder. With interest Shanks noted that Yasopp squeezed, hard.
“Oy, Beckman, cut out the crap. Capt’n says he wants his sake, let him have his sake. S’ not like we had any good party, lately.”
For a moment Shanks could only blink at Yasopp. He remembered too well the confrontation they had, and out of all the men, he was the one Shanks felt he had lost the most. To have the man defend him was like a small miracle. Then he snapped out of his shock and grinned.
“I think that’s a real problem we have to remedy, and I thank you, Yasopp, for making me aware of it,” he said, and lifted his cup of coffee high above his head. With a loud voice he asked. “Who wants a party tonight?” The whole room cheered back, but what really warmed him was Yasopp winking at him above Benn’s head.
The day had passed in a blur, everyone eager to get to evening and a good drink, better music, laughter and conversation. For the first time in months the mood was light and airy. Shanks drifted from starboard to portside, clinking glasses, listening to jokes, dancing with whoever was bold enough to dance with him. But he assessed, too, listening, looking, being aware. Which was why he saw Yasopp lean at the railing, looking at the dark water wistfully. He gulped the lump in his throat down, and put the bottle of sake he held aside. Then he stepped next to his sniper, and tried to see what he saw. But there was just the reflection of the moon on the water.
“Good party, chief,” Yasopp said after a while, and it didn’t even sound mocking. It sounded sincere, but there was a hint… a hint of something heavy.
“Thanks for reminding me,” Shanks answered very truthfully. Somehow it hadn’t felt appropriate to call for a party, even though living it, Shanks now realized it had been a very crucial part missing to normalcy.
The night was warm. There was barely a cloud in the sky, and Yasopp had given him an opening, so Shanks intended to take it. With his forearms he leaned on top of the railing and said, “I’m sorry for not being here when you needed me.”
Next to him Yasopp snorted, and then with a swift movement turned and sat on the railing. It made him quite a bit taller than Shanks, but he didn’t mind. “I was fuck-ton angry with you. Thought every day: ‘this is the day I leave’, and then the letter came and I wondered what I was even doing here. Should care for Usopp, instead of playing pirate. But Banchina always was a smart woman.” Which was the moment Shanks saw tears in Yasopp’s eyes. They fell silently, while he kept on speaking, voice clear and without wavering. He was so strong. Stronger than a lot of people assumed. “She’d written me a letter, you know. Told me to not even think of coming back, Usopp was taken care of. Told me to only ever face him when I’d fulfilled my dream, and would never run out of stories to tell him. And there we were, waiting for you to come back, not knowing if you even did, and Benn was running himself ragged. I thought, how should I ever explain that to my son? This a shit story to tell.”
That made Shanks chuckle quietly. “It is, isn’t it? Nothing much adventurous about it.”
With a swift movement Yasopp kicked him into the side, but it wasn’t hard, and Shanks didn’t try to prevent it. Instead he rubbed the spot, and looked at his sniper, who still sat on the railing. His tears had dried, but Shanks could make out the wet streaks that remained.
“You fucker!” Yasopp said with emphasis. “Benn told me about the visions.” That made Shanks stiffen. “I asked him how he could forgive you so readily, when he had given up so much. Told me you did it for us, for the men. Told me he hasn’t forgiven you, but he tries. Which is stupid Benn-speak for ‘I care for everyone other than myself.’ Everyone with eyes can see how madly in love you two are.” Which was a whole other reason for Shanks to stiffen. What the fuck? He knew there were no secrets on board of a ship. Too many men in too little space, especially his gossip-loving bunch, usually let a secret be a secret for maybe an hour. Rarely more, often less time than that. But this? Him and Benn hadn’t even figured themselves out, how had the men already done it? “Oh, come on.” Shanks turned to watch Yasopp slip back down from the railing. He landed on soft feet, and turned, so he was leaning next to Shanks. “Everyone knows that, how come you two didn’t realize it?”
Shanks huffed, and flicked at one of Yasopp’s dreads. “Force of habit, I presume. We are always in each other’s pants so much, it never crossed my mind he could feel the same. Also, every textbook would say it’s a bad idea for a captain and first mate to start a relationship. The crew has to come first.” He looked at the sea in front of him, at the waves that swapped against the hull of the Red Force and the faint lights of an island in the distance. “We need to heal before we can get that vulnerable.”
“Yeah,” Yasopp said quietly. “Which is why staying here is a good idea. Benn thinks we mind, but what we all want is for him to get better.” Then he turned around, and leaned with his back against the railing. “But, captain, once you do, don’t think you’d have to follow any stupid textbook. You and Benn never were classic textbook captain and first mate. Who cares about that, anyway? You showed quite perfectly that you’d let the crew come first, always.”
Shanks tilted his head, and looked up into the sky, to the moon that was a big yellow ball above him. “Thank you, Yasopp.” Which was the last they spoke for a long time. The crew had started to sing drunken chanties, Bonk accompanying them with his fiddle. It made Shanks smile, but there was something else he needed to ask Yasopp. He should have asked way earlier, but now was still better than tomorrow.
“Do you want to visit?” Shanks spoke into the silence, and immediately Yasopp shook his head.
“If we visit, I won’t be able to leave. And I promised Banchina…,” he said, and Shanks thought he understood. Strong. Stronger than Yasopp himself probably realized. His trusted, loyal sniper.
“Is there anything else I can do?” he asked. Next to him Yasopp shrugged. His voice became heavy.
“I send money whenever I can. It’s not much, but-”
“How much?” Shanks interrupted him. His tone had grown serious. Yasopp didn’t look at him, which wouldn’t do.
“Whatever I can spare from my allowance.” Which was not the answer Shanks wanted to hear. He placed a hand on Yasopp’s shoulder, and pulled him around. The man looked at him with a somber expression.
“Yasopp, that is not what I’m asking,” Shanks said. “How much does it need to be?”
Which made Yasopp open his mouth and close it several times, without words coming out of it. It made Shanks realize that he may have always thought to be a good captain, but he still had a long way to go. One day he wanted his crewmates to come with such matters to him, without them wondering if he would say yes. He never wanted them to doubt that their well-being extended beyond the planks of this ship.
“We’ll set up a monthly sum with Benn tomorrow.”
The words left Yasopp stare at him in disbelief, before Shanks found himself drawn into a hug and realized tears were soaked up by his shirt. He softly placed his arms around Yasopp’s back, and let the man cry. He had a feeling it was about more than simply the money.
Shanks stepped back on the Red Force, overseeing his men loading the provisions they had bought. The supply run had been dreadfully needed after weeks on sea. It may just be West Blue, but without food and water even West Blue could be dangerous. At least the weather here was steady and predictable. As of now, the sun was shining bright in the sky, and nary a cloud was seen.
“Do you need something else?” Shanks asked Roo, who had stepped towards him. Usually it was Benn who would oversee the loading of crates, boxes and sacks of food but Shanks would do a damn and give his first mate an unnecessary task, when his only task should be to get better. Even when it meant lots of arguing and grumbling from said first mate. The chef shook his head, and stretched his arms over his head.
“No, that should be all,” Roo said with a yawn. They had sat together quite late into the night, to make the list of needed purchases, and because Roo had needed to prepare dinner, too, they had only been able to start it after everyone had eaten. Hence the tiredness of his chef.
“Good. If you want to take a nap, I’m not keeping you from it,” mused Shanks. He himself was a little tired, too, but he had no intention to show it. “We’ll not sail before tomorrow so the crew can eat outside.”
A hand met his shoulder, and Roo nodded. “Sounds good. See you later, capt’n.”
Shanks watched Roo walk under Deck and then, when the other had vanished behind a door, leaned at the railing, to look at the bustle of the harbor. It was late afternoon, not yet evening but that would come soon. He took a deep breath, and let the smell of salt and smoke from the chimneys of the houses fill his nostrils. Then another kind of smoke could be smelled. Shanks turned to see Benn walk towards him. He had a strange look on his face, and immediately Shanks was on alert.
“Are you alright?” Shanks asked when Benn was in earshot. The man didn’t answer immediately, instead he looked at Shanks as if he was searching for something. Shanks shuddered under the scrutiny, and instinctively stood a little straighter. “Benn?”
“Can we talk? In private?” Benn asked, and Shanks nodded, now even a little scared. He nodded towards the door that would lead to his cabin, and Benn simply started walking. Shanks hurried behind him. Somewhere along the way Benn let the cigarette he had been smoking fall to the ground, forgotten. What had happened?
They walked to his cabin in silence, and Shanks felt as if he was vibrating out of his skin without knowing what was going on. He almost jumped when the door clicked shut behind him, and he watched Benn sit on the chair in front of Shanks’ desk. His usual chair. Somehow the simple gesture of familiarity made Shanks instantly feel more at ease. He walked up to Benn, and sat in the other chair.
“What is going on?” he asked, and Benn sighed.
“I had a vision.” Which led to Shanks instantly tensing. But apparently Benn wasn’t done because he kept on talking. “Which felt odd, because I hadn't had any vision since you came back.” Oh? Shanks had so many questions but waited for Benn to finish. “But what is even more odd, is, that the moment you stepped back on board from the supply run the vision simply… stopped.”
“What?” Shanks said, mouth faster than his brain, as usual. “How is that possible?”
Benn rubbed with his hand over his face. He looked more tired than he had in a long while, which Shanks absolutely hated. The visions had worn Benn out, and that he had another one couldn’t be good for his health. “I hoped you could answer me that, since it seems you’re somehow the reason for my future observation haki to… I don’t know… be suppressed, I guess?”
A conversation from long back when he had been cabin boy on the Oro Jackson came back to his mind, and he tried to remember every detail. Using haki had always come quite easily to him, which was insofar a problem that Shanks hadn’t always been the most keen on the details when Master Rayleigh had explained them to him. He scratched the back of his neck, leaving his straw-hat a little crooked on his hair.
“I know that conqueror’s haki - very strong conqueror's haki - can kill observation haki,” Shanks said slowly, more to get the facts straight in his head, rather than because he thought Benn couldn’t follow him. If anything Benn would probably find more sense in them than Shanks ever could. The man was that smart. “But two things seem off. First, I know that you have to use conqueror’s haki quite deliberately to kill observation haki, and I haven’t done that earlier. Second, which I would find even more important, is, I haven’t ever heard of killing only a part of observation haki and not the entire thing. I taught you how to use your haki, and you have been one of the most adept in observation haki I have ever met. I have seen you use your observation haki while I have used conqueror’s haki in battle. If it was me, how haven’t I killed it back then?”
Benn didn’t answer him immediately. Instead he closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. Shanks wanted to reach for him, hug him, take his hands in his and spend comfort but he didn’t. Even if it hurt his heart. One day he would do all of that and more, without fearing it would be too much, but not today. Today was about Benn’s visions and his well-being.
“Are you aware,” Benn finally spoke after a long stretch of silence, “that you always emit a certain kind of presence?”
Shanks blinked, and shook his head. “I do?”
“Yes, it can be quite intimidating, especially if you don’t like someone or are angry,” Benn said but smiled, almost to soften the blow. The words were still quite overwhelming. He didn’t have the intention to be intimidating. Well, not true. If it was an enemy or someone who threatened the crew, then yes, Shanks had no intention to ever let that stand. He grimaced, but Benn reached for him, and Shanks willingly gave his hand. Benn entangled their fingers, and it sent a shockwave through Shanks. His pupils widened a little but thankfully Benn didn’t comment on it. Only a small grin showed he recognized Shanks’ reaction.
“What I wanted to say is, that I believe you always use your conqueror’s haki. I doubt you recognize it, it’s probably subconscious.”
Shanks’ mouth opened and closed. His thoughts whirled, and he tried to sort them into something coherent. Meanwhile Benn reached for his straw-hat and straightened it. “So you think that I subconsciously kill your observation haki since we met? But wouldn’t that mean that I constantly attack the crew? And shouldn’t none of you then be able to use observation haki?”
Benn shook his head. “I could be wrong…” Shanks snorted, and Benn rose an eyebrow at him.
“You’re the smartest man I know. You are hardly ever wrong,” Shanks stated. Benn simply sighed.
“Yeah, but when I’m wrong, then unfortunately I am very wrong,” he said, and squeezed Shanks’ hand. Shanks squeezed back.
“That’s what I’m here for,” he grinned. Benn smiled, and then chose to talk over it.
“I could be wrong, but if I’m not, which in this case I think I’m not, it’s because you only attack people with your conqueror's haki you think are a threat. We, the crew, may feel it, but we are both very used to it, and simply don’t wish you harm. Which doesn’t explain why only my visions are blocked, but it would explain how we’re able to use observation haki without you constantly killing it with your conqueror’s.”
It made sense. Listening to Benn’s explanation sounded very straightforward and logical. But Benn’s explanations usually did. Then something almost popped into Shanks’ brain, and he took in a breath.
“It’s not only that. I may see a stranger, and decide they aren’t a threat, so I won’t attack them, but you - you and the crew - you are people I want to protect!” Shanks’ eyes had focused on Benn’s, and he saw the grey swirl in the blue of his irises. “I may have not realized them to be a threat, but the visions do wear you out. They are a danger to you, and if killing them protects you, I’m certain I would be doing it, if only subconsciously.”
“But, if they can predict attacks,” Benn whispered. His expression hardened, but when he tried to remove his hand out of Shanks’ grip, he couldn’t. Shanks held him, not hurting, but secure enough that he couldn’t leave.
“Don’t even think about it, Benn!” Shanks said with a sharp voice. “I saw what the constant onslaught of these visions did to you. I can still see it! I know you always think of the crew first, but in this case your health is more important.”
“But,” Benn wanted to protest. Shanks interrupted him.
“No!” Then he reached forward, and let soft fingers glide over Benn’s face, his cheeks, his lips. The man shuddered under the touch. Shanks’ voice became soft, where it had been hard just a moment ago. “When you are back to your health we will train together, I promise. I will keep my conqueror’s haki in check, and you will learn to control those visions as you learned to control your observation haki. But until then what I want you to do is to heal.”
His haki flared, and suddenly images flashed in front of his inner eyes. Water that flowed upwards. Grey skies in the distance. Red hair that wasn’t his. A sword that slashed at him. Benn screamed, and a devil’s fruit was revealed. He pressed his teeth together in anger. As fast as the images had come, they were gone again. His hand that still lay on Benn’s cheek shook. Another, steady hand, was put on it. Benn had reached for him to cover it.
“You saw it, too,” Benn whispered, but Shanks only growled.
“Let my brother come. I will never allow him to ever lay a finger on you.”
Days ticked by, and Shanks could see Benn become better. Under Hongo’s careful watch he was allowed to train again, and while he was still a little thin, nothing reminded of the sheer hollow Benn had been only a few months ago. Therefore it didn’t surprise Shanks when their doctor declared one bright morning that he would not keep the crew from sailing back towards the Grandline.
Shanks was leaning against the railing, elbows on the wood, as he watched his first mate go through a round of stretches and exercises. Doc had watched him with hawk eyes, but now he was nodding, and Shanks knew what would come before Doc even said it.
“I think we can set sail towards Reverse Mountain.”
Shanks’ gaze drew away from Benn, who visibly enjoyed the exercise after so much time not being allowed to use his full strength. Shanks saw the weak spots, the slight tremble, but it had become less and less, and with time it would vanish. His eyes found those of his doctor.
“You sure?” he asked, and Doc shrugged his shoulders, but nodded.
“Yes. What is left to do for Benn is train and be patient with himself, but the effects of malnutrition are gone, and my work as his doctor is done, so to speak. I would not recommend him going all out in a fight, but it’s not that we’re getting attacked first thing on the Grandline.”
Shanks would have loved to agree, but instead his expression became dark, as he remembered the vision he had had. With a raised eyebrow Doc looked at him.
“We aren’t, are we not?” he asked, and when Shanks didn’t answer, added: “Capt’n?”
Shanks' fingers balled into fists, but he forcefully relaxed them when he saw the worried look of his doctor. Then he sighed, and spoke, “I’m afraid there is a very high likelihood that my brother is waiting for us at Reverse Mountain.” He looked back at Benn, at his loyal first mate, at the man he loved so much, and who his brother wanted to destroy only to hurt him. “Doc?”
His doctor nodded, to indicate he had heard Shanks. The man was a little pale but looked at him with a grim determination that Shanks appreciated. He knew it was mostly for Benn. Which, fair. Shanks felt the same. Benn had suffered enough. He had given enough for this crew. It was time to pay that dedication back tenfold.
“Please gather the crew for me. I need to tell them something.”
“You’re telling the crew?” Benn asked, who had stopped with his exercises the moment he had recognized the serious look on Shanks’ face. It would take a while for the men to assemble on deck. Enough time for the captain and first mate to speak in relative private beforehand.
“I need them to know what dangers lie ahead,” Shanks answered. “But I also want them to understand why I did what I did.” They knew the gist of why he had gone to Mary Geoise. They knew about his brother, they knew he had done it to gather information, but the grand picture, and especially the visions were details only a few people knew of. Benn. Yasopp. Probably Roo, because Shanks was aware that whatever Yasopp knew Roo knew, too.
He had watched Benn heal, but the time had also served to bring Shanks back to his crew, his men. The bridge of trust he had built back up, brick by slow painful brick, was almost done. The last bit to completion was honesty. But Shanks could only tell his part of the story. Which was why he looked at Benn with a serious expression. “If you don’t want them to know about your visions, I won’t say a thing.” Benn however simply shook his head.
“Let them know.”
The breeze tousled up their hair, mixed black with red. Steps could be heard, more and more, as the crew gathered around them. They formed a circle around him and Benn, curious gazes watching them. Some men sat down, some stood. A few pulled up crates or boxes, to use as makeshift chairs. All Shanks saw was Benn’s eyes.
“If worst comes to worst at Reverse Mountain…,” Shanks whispered, but Benn shook his head.
“If worst comes to worst, I will be right next to you, where I belong.”
Shanks shuddered at the words. He would not let Benn die. He would not give his first mate over to Shamrock. He would protect those he loved, - he turned towards his crew, his loyal men, who watched him expectantly - all of them. Because he was their captain and it was his duty to keep his crew safe.
“In my time as your captain,” he started his speech, “I did a lot of things wrong. I know I have quite a lot to learn. But what will never change, is that I want to protect all of you. Because you are my family and I love you. Which stands in quite a contradiction to the months I was at the Holy Land, and I know what it had cost all of you to wait for me. But most of all Benn…”
The man in question stepped forward, and was now back at his side - where he belonged. Shanks took Benn’s hand, squeezed, and continued to tell his tale. He knew he had every single pair of his men’s eyes on him. He could hear the gasps and silent curses, when he told about the visions, about Shamrock’s threat, about how his twin brother wanted to enslave Benn. He could see his men ball their hands to fists or put them on their weapons, when he talked about the vision he had had about the upcoming fight at Reverse Mountain. But he could also feel their trust, and when he had ended his tale, and had answered every last question to the best of his ability, he could feel the readiness of his crew to fight, to protect what was theirs. This bond between them. The bands that formed their family. The blood, sweat and tears Benn had given to keep the Redhair Pirates intact, while Shanks couldn’t. All of it, every single string that kept them together, they were willing to die for.
Reverse Mountain could be seen for quite a while now, with how high the entrance to the Grandline was. But it took a few more hours until a loud and almost angry “Sails ahead” could be heard from the crow’s nest. Their man didn’t have to specify what kind of sails. Everyone on the Red Force knew they were white.
“I know I can’t keep you away from the fight,” Shanks said quietly, while he walked side by side with Benn towards the deck. “But please, be careful!”
Before Benn opened the door, he turned back to Shanks, and to his surprise drew him into a swift and tight hug. “I will be, I promise.” It was enough for Shanks. It had to be enough. Then Benn pushed the door open, and Shanks was only a step behind. He could see the men who had already gathered on the main deck, weapons ready. When they realized their captain and first mate had joined them, they turned towards them. But nothing could have prepared Shanks for seeing them almost share a collective look, and then surround Benn in an almost impenetrable, protective circle. Shanks could only stare, while Benn first gasped, and then protested.
"Absolutely not. Don’t you dare,” he admonished, but the men only stepped even closer. Yasopp walked out from the circle, and Shanks watched him first put a hand on Benn’s shoulder, and then draw him close to whisper something in his ear. He wasn’t close enough to understand the words, but they seemed to have an impact because Benn almost slumped into himself. Something that looked traitorly like tears shimmered in his eyes.
“Captain,” his lookout shouted down from the crow’s nest. “I count ten marine ships, fully manned, and a single smaller one. They’re drawing closer.” Shanks grimaced, and drew his sword. Then he stepped around the circle that was his crew protecting Benn. If the men looked out for his first mate, he would look out for them.
“Let them come,” he growled, and then turned around to his crew. “No Redhair Pirate dies today, do you hear me? The Grandline waits for us, and the only ones who define our future are ourselves.”
A deafening roar sounded through his men, and then the first canon was shot.
He activated his conqueror’s haki, and it was almost satisfactory to hear several bodies hit the ground. Every canon shot rang in his ears, but Shanks trusted his own gunners to take care of that. He had long before he had gone to Mary Geoise realized that the best people to keep their ship safe from cannonballs were the very people who wielded them on the Red Force. Several people were shouting, mostly the marine officers on the ships that tried to surround them. Snake had very clear orders to keep that from happening, though. Shanks wanted to always have an escape route open, in the hopes they wouldn’t need it.
His eyes scanned the crowd of marines that waited for their ships to get close enough to board the Red Force. His crew wasn’t enough people to take out all ten ships at the same time, but thankfully, Snake was doing a good job in maneuvering the Red Force so not more than two marine ships seemed to get close simultaneously.
His haki flared, and he stepped aside to dodge a bullet that flew his way. “Gab, Lime,” he shouted, and his officers answered with an “Aye, capt’n”.
“Take out the two closest ships. I don’t care how, but sink them!” Shanks ordered, and another “Aye, capt’n!” told him the two understood. “Yasopp, Roo,” he kept on shouting, and again a short “Boss!” sounded over the deck of the Red Force, telling him he was heard. He grimaced when his observation haki told him how the marines would try to sneak a ship, that at the moment still lay some miles away, at their backs, to sink the Red Force. Not on his watch. “We’ll get attacked from behind in a short while. Position Derek and Mark at the back, they’ll need to deal with another marine vessel shortly. Then cover from the upper deck. We’ll likely have two or three marine ships that will be able to board. Take out as many people as you can.”
“Count on it,” Roo shouted, and he heard their feet on the planks, as they rushed to fulfill his orders. He wouldn’t be able to stop all the marines from entering the Red Force. There were just too many of them. But he could give them as much hell as possible before that happened.
His gaze wandered over the crew that waited with bated breath, and in anticipation, of the first collision of ships. There was still a loosely formed circle around Benn, whose eyes were narrowed, watching, calculating. Canons roared in an irregular rhythm, but none had managed to scratch the Red Force yet, because his men knew what they were doing. Then he looked to the smaller vessel, and saw red hair shimmering in the light. He gripped his sword a little tighter, and pushed towards his first mate.
“Benn,” Shanks said, when he was close enough for his first mate to hear. Grey eyes met his own. Benn didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t need to. “If worst comes to worst-” Benn’s eyes narrowed but Shanks didn’t let himself be interrupted. “-before you will be at my side. Throw that fucking devil’s fruit to the depth of the ocean, yeah?”
A snort was his answer, and with a fluid motion Benn loosened his rifle and leaned it on his shoulder. Then he reached for Shanks, and pressed his forehead on Shanks’ one. “Don’t you dare die. You still owe me a fucking kiss.”
Shanks grinned, nodded - and then something exploded. Debris flew into the air, but it was too far away to reach them. Smoke was in Shanks’ nose, and shouts reached his ear. It seemed like Gab and Lime had just sunk the first ship. He let go of Benn, turned and saw how the first grapple hooks were linked with the Red Force. Shots sounded from above. Yasopp and Roo covered his men, who started to take out the marines that tried to enter the Red Force. Another explosion could be heard. Another marine vessel broke into two, slowly sinking into the sea. Shanks first walked, then he picked up speed, and soon he was running. With a big jump he was over the railing, landing on soft feet on the smallest enemy vessel. Eyes, just like his own, looked at him.
“Hello, brother,” he said, voice low and mad. Then Gryphon’s blade turned black, and Shanks attacked.
Their swords clashed, and Shanks couldn’t spare any of his concentration towards his men, because Shamrock needed every last shred of his mind. He knew his brother was trained well but it seemed, just like Shanks had, Shamrock had held back his true strength until now. His haki warned him, and he dodged, the blade of his brother’s sword going down just millimeters from his face. When did the other become this good?
“Do you finally realize what you left behind?” Shamrock asked with a haughty voice. “I was blessed with the Abyssal Covenant, a priced gift from the Great One.”
For a moment Shanks’ eyes widened, then he sprung back, heaving a breath. He lifted his sword, and he was ready to attack at any moment. Yet, his mind reeled when he realized what his brother just told him. He spat, “So you rather give yourself over to a self-proclaimed god, than live your own life?”
“There is no greater joy than serving Imu-sama,” Shamrock answered, and didn’t allow Shanks any answer himself, because he needed to breathe, and he needed to use every single bit of his strength to keep Shamrock at bay. Their blades clashed again, he pressed the other back, pushed him, and used the single second that was given him to slash. Shamrock turned away, but Shanks still managed to hit his brother’s arm. Blood soaked the uniform that marked Shamrock as a God’s knight, but it stopped almost instantly. Fuck.
“Your little attacks won’t work against me,” Shamrock laughed, and it sounded wrong in Shanks’ ears. His haki flared, his anger transformed into conqueror’s haki, and for a moment he saw Shamrock’s knees give in. Oh!
“We’ll see about that,” Shanks said, and then focused all his anger and all his haki into his sword. He fainted left, swung right, and hit again. Shamrock reached for his arm, growled, and when he retreated his hand, Shanks saw blood. Blood that didn’t immediately stop. He grinned. “Did that hurt, brother-dearest?”
Shamrock’s expression became dark, and his attacks became even harder. For a while all Shanks could do was try not to get hit, try to survive, try to parry and riposte, and find an opening that just wasn’t there. He needed to get better, stronger, because if he wanted to protect his crew, he needed to be able to never let his brother get near them. He may be able to hurt him with conqueror’s haki, but to do so he needed to get closer.
He was panting, when another of Shamrock’s strikes pushed him against the railing of the small vessel he was on. He pulled to the side, and only seconds later a blade got stuck in the wood. Shanks attacked back but Shamrock blocked him. Their faces were close.
“Where is the devil’s fruit?” Shamrock wanted to know. Shanks grinned despite the strain he was feeling on his body.
“Gone,” he simply said, and pushed Shamrock back. Anger flared in his brother’s eyes, but before the other could say something, an explosion roared next to them. The marine vessel on the left creaked, burst, and Shanks had to cover his head to not get hit by flying debris. He opened his eyes again to see his brother jumping over the railing, and landing on the Red Force. He growled. “Don’t you dare.” Then he followed the man with several swift, big steps.
Shanks landed on the deck of the Red Force, and immediately ran. “Watch out,” he shouted in fear when he saw how Shamrock aimed for Bonk, who was occupied by fighting back three marines at the same time. The man turned, eyes wide, but it was a shot that hit Shamrock’s shoulder that stopped disaster from happening.
Bonk roared, knocked the marines out, but it was Benn who Shanks was looking at. His first mate had shot Shamrock, looking at the man with a grim expression.
“Beckman,” Shamrock said evenly, letting go at his shoulder, which he had reached for instinctively. “Still as tenacious as ever, I see. My offer still stands.”
The words needed a moment to register, but paired with the sly smirk on his brother’s face it made Shanks see red. “Fuck you,” he spat, and blew all his sword’s fighting knowledge to the wind. Instead he bodily tackled Shamrock, who apparently hadn’t seen that coming because he went under. Gryphon clanked, when it landed on the ground, and Shanks focused all his conqueror’s haki into his balled fist, and then punched. Something squelched, and he punched again and again and again. Hands gripped his shirt, and he was shoved back. The air was forcefully pushed out of his lungs, when it was him who hit the planks hard with his back. His own sword was pressed against his throat, and Shamrock’s eyes gleamed madly. But his brother’s nose was crooked, and his face was smeared with blood. It gave Shanks a mad sense of satisfaction, even if he was in no position to do so.
“Where is the fruit?” Shamrock asked, voice sharp. “Tell me, and I might let you live, because you’re my brother.”
But all Shanks could do was laugh. “I’d rather die,” he said. When Shamrock lifted his arm to give Shanks the final blow, all Shanks could think about was how he hoped Benn would take the crew, get the fuck out, and hopefully fullfill his last order to throw the Nika Nika no Mi into the ocean. He also wished he would have given Benn that kiss.
Then another shot sounded, and a moment later the body on top of Shanks was gone. His eyes grew wide when he saw Benn, who had shot Shamrock again square in the back and then had pulled him away from Shanks. Something pressed against Shanks’ mind, flaring, pulsing, stroking him like a feather when it realized he was friend instead of foe. Something dangerous gleamed in Benn’s eyes, while he with one hand held his rifle to Shamrock’s head, and with the other pressed the man down at his throat.
“Keep your filthy hands away from my captain,” Benn growled, and around them several marines fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth. Conqueror’s haki, Shanks realized almost with awe. Not his conqueror’s haki but Benn’s! That was new.
He pushed himself up, reached for his sword, and then squatted down next to his brother’s head. When he spoke, his voice was icy cold. “I told you to never threaten my first mate or my men, ever again. Now! Get your marines and fuck off! You’ve done enough damage.” His own conqueror’s haki flared, mixed with Benn’s like it recognized and amplified it. Shamrock’s eyes became huge, and he shook. When Benn lifted the rifle Shamrock grimaced, his eyes jumping from Shanks to Benn and back. If there was understanding in them, Shanks couldn’t care less.
Shamrock almost fled, and when he did, he took the remaining marine soldiers, who were still standing, with him. Shanks stood, too, and watched the person that looked so much like him, but was so different, retreat, his back becoming smaller and smaller. Then he turned to Benn, who looked at him with fire in his eyes.
“Fuck it,” Shanks said, “I should have done that years ago.” For the second time this day his sword clattered on the floor but Shanks didn’t care. He needed both of his hands to pull Benn towards him, and kiss him with all the longing and desire that he had kept inside for years. He kissed like he was drowning, and Benn kissed back, as if it was the only thing that kept them both afloat.
They needed to repair the Red Force where it had been damaged by the fight. Doc needed to care for whoever was injured. Shanks let his haki flare out, and sighed in relief, when he realized all his men were still alive. There were still unconscious marines on deck but his men had already started to throw them over to the last marine vessel, which thankfully was still close by to gather the last remaining soldiers. His men didn’t throw them nicely but Shanks couldn’t care about that. He would probably need to stay a few more days here in front of Reverse Mountain, to let his brother and the marines get away. He really didn’t want to see them again when he entered the Grandline. It would also give his men time to recover. He would need to say Hi to Crocous once they were at the bottom of Reverse Mountain. Should he have sent a letter? Should he let Crocous look over his injured men to give Doc a hand? Should Crocous look over Benn? Benn - who had fought, when he shouldn’t have… Benn, who he had kissed. Who had kissed him back!
“Shanks,” Benn interrupted his thoughts, and he looked at the man with wide eyes. His mind was still reeling with too much adrenaline. “You’re spiraling.”
Was he? That couldn’t be, could it? The fight was over. Shamrock was gone, the Nika Nika no Mi was still in their possession, and Benn was fine. Benn was fine, and they had kissed, and -
“I guess,” he murmured, because okay, yes, maybe he was spiraling a little bit. He took a deep breath, but it didn’t feel like it helped.
“Look at me,” Benn murmured, and Shanks did. He looked, and looked, and got lost in the grey of Benn’s eyes. “Breathe with me.” He inhaled, and exhaled, and his eyes zoomed in on Benn’s mouth. His heart leaped. “Wow. That did not work.” Benn’s voice was a soft laugh, and he was softly pulled against Benn’s chest, and this time it was Benn who kissed him. Shanks’ thoughts immediately stopped, and all he could focus on was the warmth of Benn’s body, the arm that had snuck around his torso, and the lips on his. He softly moaned involuntarily, and Benn swallowed the sound with his mouth. When they let go, Shanks’ heartbeat was still quite too fast, but his thoughts had focused, at least.
“Are you back with me?” Benn asked. Shanks grinned slowly, and with an almost dazed expression.
“I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else.”
Benn shook his head but his eyes were fond. Then he turned, and Shanks followed his gaze to see Yasopp walk towards them, grinning shamelessly. Oh god.
"Finally," Yasopp said with a grin, and then even slapped Shanks on the back, who had reached for his sword, and put it back into his sheath where it belonged. He sputtered a little, and realized his cheeks had turned red. He really hoped that kind of embarrassment would vanish soon. When he saw Benn roll his eyes, something in him settled. It would. Benn was still his best friend. Now he simply was just a little bit more than that, too. “As much as I like to see that you two have finally figured yourself out,” Yasopp continued, “we still just happened to have been fighting a few minutes ago. Would any of you mind giving the crew orders?”
Benn laughed, and Shanks sighed. He was pushed a little into the direction of the crew, having Benn’s teasing voice in his ear. But not before Benn pressed the straw-hat back on his red hair fondly. “Go, be captain. We’ll talk later.”
“Fine,” he muttered, and turned to look around. The marine vessel had finally started to follow the others, which had just reached the base of Reverse Mountain. The ships got sucked in by the current, and were almost flying upwards, only to land on the Grandline. Something the Red Force would do as well, but not today and probably also not tomorrow, considering the state of disarray, and the exhausted faces of his men. “Come on, Yasopp.” He slung an arm around his sniper and turned. Then he raised his voice, so his men could hear him. “Whoever’s injured, go see Doc, and don’t you dare think it’s just a scratch, so you don’t have to bother. I bother, so go see Doc! The rest, help clean up the mess. Whoever notices damages, report it to Lime or Snake. They will tell it to the carpenters, who clearly don’t need to get listed all the damages thousand times from everyone in chaos. Broken weapons get reported to Yasopp, and missing supplies to Benn. Roo, you might fire up the kitchen. I’m pretty sure everyone’s looking forward to a good meal later. Everyone got that?”
He looked around into gleaming eyes and smiling faces. Suddenly all Shanks could feel was warmth, deep inside him like a banking fire. This was good. It felt right. It felt like home… a feeling that he had been missing so desperately for quite too long.
“Aye, captain,” the crew called back, before everyone went to help get the Red Force back in order. He grinned. The cliff between them was gone, the bridge built. He was Redhair Shanks, these men were his crew, and he was finally home.
It was dark outside when they had finally managed to put the last rope back in its intended place, and Shanks had sent the last men into the galley to eat. He was quite hungry himself but something kept him outside on deck. Maybe it was the silence after a day full of noise. Maybe it was the stars above. It was probably the man who stepped out of the shadow, and looked at him with curious, grey eyes.
“Benn,” Shanks said. It was almost a whisper, and his heart sped up. One day it wouldn’t do that anymore when he saw his first mate. One day he would have gotten used to the anticipation of being allowed to be with Benn, to touch him, to kiss him. But not today. Today his body seemed to shake in need for the man’s touch.
“Shanks,” Benn replied, and his voice was dark and clear, and made him shudder. Before Shanks could say something though, or even better, get back to kissing Benn, a finger was placed on his mouth. The other hand reached for his wrist, and when had Benn managed to press him against the main mast? “Rules!”
“What?” he gasped against Benn’s finger, because his brain was too slow to follow. Now Benn chuckled, and it was almost diabolical.
“Rules,” Benn repeated, and something in his eyes gleamed. “Because I know you, and I want this to work. Us to work. So Rules, okay?”
Shanks could only nod, his eyes never leaving Benn’s. He would agree to everything if it meant he was allowed to call Benn his.
“First, the crew comes first. Always,” Benn said, finally pulling away his finger so Shanks could speak. But there was nothing else to say to it, other than: “Of course, always!” Because Shanks knew they were first and foremost captain and first mate, and the men were their family. They could have a relationship, and Yasopp had made clear the men would approve of it, but not if it stood in the way of protecting these bunch of idiots. Well, their idiots.
“Second, no public display of affection.” At which Shanks could only raise an eyebrow, because hadn’t Benn said he knew him? Even though Benn crowded Shanks, it was now Benn who shuddered, and a moment later gave in under the stare. “Oh, by the five seas, okay, fine. No public display of affection during a fight.” Which made Shanks grin… very widely. Benn groaned. “I hate you!” he muttered, and his head fell on Shanks’ shoulder who simply clasped him on the back and laughed softly.
“Will it help, if I promise to not attempt to kiss you when someone of the crew is in real danger?” he asked, and Benn grumbled something that Shanks interpreted as a yes. He chortled quietly. “And third?”
Benn pulled his head back, and looked at Shanks. His eyes became narrow and his expression a little colder. It made Shanks instantly alert.
“Third,” Benn said, and his voice was quiet but firm. “If you ever leave me or the crew again, I will find you, and I will make your life miserable. Don’t you ever do anything like that ever again.”
Shanks shook while the words seemed to rush through his body, into his bones and carve their way inside him. He slowly reached for Benn’s face, placed his hands on his cheek, and simply nodded. “Never again. I promise.”
“Good,” Benn murmured, and his breath brushed Shanks’ lips as he leant forward. His hand slipped into Shanks’ hair, pushed the straw-hat that was enthroned on his head onto his back, and kissed him. Shanks let himself fall into it, let the presence that was Benn engulf him, let his thoughts stop, his body feel and - his haki flared.
A bar in East Blue and a woman with a soft smile. A small boy on their ship, with a knife in his hand. The same boy eating the devil’s fruit they had given so much to protect. Bandits. Smoke and a sea monster. Pain, but laced with pride. A lost arm setting him free. A promise. The same boy, now older, with a bounty on his head. Laughing, laughing, with white hair and red eyes, but never consumed. Because laughing was what he did. A strawhat given back. Benn, next to him, smiling, while he spoke: ‘My king’.
His eyes flew open, and he looked at Benn whose face had the same shock written on it as Shanks knew was on his own. Shaking fingers touched his left arm, which was indicator enough for Shanks to know that Benn had seen the same vision as him. For a moment time seemed to stop, but then Shanks slowly placed his own hand on Benn’s and smiled.
“Seems like we have to go to Goa Kingdom, after all,” he said, and Benn looked at him almost incredulously. He took in a shuddering breath, and all the tension left Benn. He leaned towards Shanks, and a soft kiss was placed on his lips.
“Yeah, seems so.” He entangled his fingers with Shanks’, and pulled him close. A chin landed on Shanks’ red hair. “But not today and not tomorrow. Let me have you like this for another year or so, please.”
Under him, embraced by strong arms, Shanks shuddered. “Okay,” he whispered. He would have another year to find a way to take the worry and blame Benn had already made his own, and replace it with love. Because that was what he wanted to show his first mate, always. That he was loved, and that he was the only thing Shanks needed. Because Benn had been next to him, Benn had been with him! Who needed both arms, when he could have a future in which the man he loved was next to him?
And if it should come differently, Shanks had every intention to defy the future again. As long as he had his crew and Benn by his side. Where they belonged. Where he belonged. Here, on board of the Red Force, in Benn’s arms, with the laughter of his crew wafting towards them from afar.