“So your dad is Garp?!” Shanks gawked, eyes wide at the aftermath from the chaos erupted before them, specifically, a brawl between Vice Admiral Garp and their captain, Gol D. Roger.

It wasn’t much of a fight. Fists flew, grunts echoed, and it ended rather abruptly when a small, furious voice rang louder than either of the two legends.

“ I don’t wanna go back yet !!”

There she stood, barely reaching anyone’s shoulder, arms crossed, cheeks puffed with defiance. Garp turned to his daughter, visibly flustered. He was caught off guard by his only daughter’s request. 

The Roger Pirates watched, utterly entertained, as the Marine Hero, the same man feared across the seas, crumbled at the hands of one little girl. His face twisted with frustration, muttering half-baked scoldings, while his eyes shimmered suspiciously.

And when Roger let out a booming laugh, the rest of the crew followed suit.

“ Oi, Garp! Looks like you’ve met your match !” Roger cackled.

“Yeah,” she muttered, propping her chin on her palm, elbow balanced on the edge of the ship’s rail. Her voice was calm, too calm, given what had just come out of her mouth.

Across from her, Buggy let out a shriek so loud it startled nearby seagulls into flight.

“SO IT’S TRUE?!” he howled, his body exploding apart in every direction like fireworks in a panic. His head spun midair, hovering with wild eyes and twitching lips. “No wonder you’re scary, Garp? The Garp that’s always on Captain’s tail?”

She blinked at him, unimpressed. “I guess so,” she said, brushing a stray hair behind her ear with a casual flick.

Buggy’s floating head nearly dropped from the sky.

“C-Crazy, you’re crazy!” he stammered, “That man’s a monster! A living legend! You’re saying that guy is your dad?! So what are you doing on this ship?!”

She leaned back against the rail, gazing out toward the endless stretch of sea. “Hm… Out of all the ships I saw, the red sails looked the most exciting!” 

Her gaze lifted to the sails above, bright red and billowing against the wind, a shimmering glint of admiration.

“It looked way cooler than the other ships.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “I didn’t even realize it belonged to the infamous Gol D. Roger. I just thought it looked like it could take me somewhere I hadn’t been before, super flashy!”

Buggy’s head bobbed midair, the wonder in her voice catching him off guard.

“R-Right, right!” he said, recovering fast and puffing out his chest, well, where his chest would’ve been. “Our captain’s the flashiest of them all! You’ve got good taste!”

“So, why aren’t you going back?” Shanks asked, inching a little closer to her on the deck, curiosity tugging at his features. Up close, he was reminded again just how tall she was, Garp’s blood ran strong, apparently.

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and keeping her eyes fixed on the horizon. “It’s fun being pirates.” Her lips curled into a small, teasing smirk. “Why? Want me gone that badly?”

“Yes!”

 “No!”

The two answers clashed in the air instantly.

She didn’t even need to look up, she already knew who said what. Her sharp glare zeroed in on Buggy, whose face had already contorted into an exaggerated grimace.

“But you’re basically a Marine! ” Buggy protests, flailing dramatically as he frantically turns to Shanks. “What if she rats us out?!”

“Oh, shut up, you’re just scared” she snapped, eyes narrowing.

Rayleigh’s voice cut through the tension, calm but pointed. “Did you know your father made it his life’s mission to capture our captain?”

He stepped into the conversation like he’d been listening the whole time, because he probably had. Rayleigh looked at her with just a small amount of curiosity, after he had checked in with his careless Captain who had just fought her father. 

“How do we know you’re not feeding him information behind our backs?” he added, expression unreadable.

“Come on , Rayleigh,” another crew member, Taro, she recalled, interjected with a huff. “If that were true, Garp would’ve been breathing down our necks a long time ago.” He ruffled the girl’s hair. 

“Exactly!” she threw up her hands. “As if I’d let him get information that easily. No way in hell I’d give him the satisfaction.”

Once things settled, the conversation drifted naturally back to the trio, to their familiar corner on the deck of the Oro Jackson. The wind had calmed, but the curiosity between them hadn’t. It wasn’t quite an interrogation, but she could feel the way their eyes lingered on her, wanting to ask more questions. 

Especially now, knowing who her father was, someone even Captain Roger spoke of with an odd mix of exasperation and respect.

“Why don't you wanna be a Marine?” Buggy asked, tilting his head with a finger pressed to his chin. “You’d probably get a high rank right off the bat! You’d be rich!”

She gave him a flat look, the kind only someone used to his antics could muster. “Buggy, that’s called nepotism.”

He shrugged unapologetically. “So?”

“I don’t know…” she sighed, toying with the loose threads on the hem of her shirt. Her voice softened. “I… got onto this ship just for fun, I thought one day I’d just leave and continue my way through my dad.” 

“But?” Buggy tilted his head, intrigued by her answer, her dad is a scary man with scary potential, he needs to know these things. 

“Sailing with you guys is so fun,” She mumbled, her voice had a slight tremble to it as she still didn’t want to look straight in the eyes at the other apprentices. 

“My older brother’s a Marine.” Her thoughts briefly flicked to Dragon, once a loving brother figure to her, now an increasingly distant one. She recalls her childhood where Dragon and her would scavenge through the forests in Dawn Island, waiting for Garp to finally show and do some training. 

“Rarely saw him after, and when I do, he looked like shit!”

“You mean that Dragon guy?” Shanks asked, blinking as if trying to remember something, “I think you mentioned him before.”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Never home. Even Dad visits more.”

“You sound like a brat throwing a tantrum,” Buggy chimed in again, grinning. “So you do act like a girl sometimes, I thought you’re just a brute.”

She gasped, scandalized. “Excuse you?! ”

“Now, now,” Shanks stepped in quickly, arms between them like a referee. “Let’s not start a war on deck, alright?”

“She started it,” Buggy mumbled under his breath.

“You provoked me!” she shot back, leaning forward with a glare.

“Alright, alright,” Shanks laughed, placing a hand on her head and ruffling her hair. “Let’s take it easy, marine spawn.”

“Hey!” She shot up, clearly offended, a frown scrunching up her face. “I’m a pirate through and through now, okay? I hate Marines.” Her arms crossed over her chest with the full drama of someone thoroughly committed to the bit.

Buggy blinked at her, unimpressed. “So you hate your family?”

“That’s different!” she huffed, turning her nose up. “They don’t count.”

-----

“How ya feeling?” Hongo asked, standing beside the bed with his arms loosely crossed, his expression gentle but observant. He had just finished checking her vitals, carefully, given how frantic Shanks had been when he all but shoved her into his care. It had taken a lot to calm the captain down.

The girl blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling before letting her gaze drift around the room. Clean. Nautical. Slightly chaotic. She didn’t recognize a single thing, except for the man watching her with quiet patience.

“Hongo,” she finally said, her voice dry but teasing, “I see you got your teeth back.”

“Hey,” he replied with a short laugh, clearly not offended. “We can trade barbs when you’re not halfway to the grave. Let’s not make my captain worry more than he already is.”

A pause, then a soft murmur: “I’m on the Red Force, huh?”

“Yeah.” Hongo nodded, but then narrowed his eyes slightly. “If you’re not gonna answer my questions, I’ll go get Shanks.”

“No!” she blurted, sitting up too fast before wincing at the effort. “No, I’ll answer. Just… please. I need to be away from Shanks for a bit. If that’s okay?”

Hongo eyed her, reading more between the lines than she realized. Then, with a small smile, he said, “Can’t reject a lady’s request.”

He pulled a chair closer to her bedside, his tone gentle but firm. “So… what happened?”

She stared down and then she told him. Everything. (or at least stuff that are relevant)

-----

“Hey, Capt.” Hongo greeted as he stepped out of the room, only for Shanks to immediately crowd him, hand still half on the doorframe.

“How is she? Is she okay?” Shanks asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant, he failed miserably. Everyone on the crew knew just how much the girl meant to him. He might’ve tried to act cool about it, but the fact he’d been standing outside the door the entire time, down to the second, said everything.

Hongo sighed, his hands on his waist. “She needs rest. Her health isn’t great. She told me a few things, but… I don’t think it’s the full story. I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle all of it.”

“She’s awake?” Shanks asked, eyes lighting up, completely ignoring the rest of Hongo’s words.

“Yes, she’s awake, but—”

Before Hongo could finish, Shanks had already turned to push the door open, only to be yanked back by Benn Beckman with one hand. It looked comical, like someone dragging back an overexcited cat.

“Whoa there. Listen to the doctor, she needs rest,” Beckman said, calm but firm.

“Ugh, fine,” Shanks groaned, deflating like a sulking kid.

“Never thought I’d live to see Pouting Shanks,” Yassop muttered to Lucky Roux with a smirk.

“We’re gonna be seeing a lot of that,” Roux whispered back, both of them shaking their heads with amusement.

“Hm, I think Limejuice is calling for me,” Shanks blurted out, already half-turning to flee down the front of the deck, clearly hoping no one would question why Limejuice, of all people, would ever need him urgently.

Behind him, several senior officers exchanged knowing smirks, low chuckles echoing through the corridor. Watching their proud captain all but retreat because of a woman? Now that was a sight.

“So,” Benn Beckman called out casually, arms crossed, “What did she actually say, Hongo?”

Yassop and Lucky Roux blinked, then leaned in like kids overhearing gossip for the first time.

Hongo, ever calm, adjusted the strap of his med kit and sighed. “She asked me to keep Shanks out of her room for a while.”

That made the air shift slightly.

“Not sure what happened between them back on that island,” he added, voice just low enough to make it sound important, “but whatever it was… it definitely something .”

The silence that followed was punctuated only by Shanks’ very unsubtle footsteps retreating down the Red Force, faster than any pirate captain should ever be walking.

----

“Now,” a voice called from the doorway, smooth, teasing, yet unmistakably firm. “Why did I hear from my doctor that Ms. Patient in here doesn’t want my presence?”

The air shifted.

She flinched before she could catch herself. That voice, low and careless, threaded with an old warmth that unsettled her more than she'd admit, dug into her chest like a dull blade. She didn’t turn toward him. She didn’t want to.

“Because Ms. Patient ,” she said tightly, her eyes fixed on the wooden planks, “ explicitly does not want your presence. Is that too hard to understand, Red-Hair ?”

Shanks stepped inside anyway, she had been cooped in the room for awhile, but guessing from the silence on deck and the night sky, it was around dawn, she finally saw that familiar smirk was already tugging at his lips, boyish and far too charming for someone so infuriating.

“Yeah,” he said with a mock sigh, “I guess it is. Y’see, I’ve never really had women reject me before.” His voice dipped with amusement, eyes scanning the room before locking onto her still form. “Kind of a new experience.”

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning her head to glance at him, just a little. “Glad I could be your first,” she muttered.

“I’d love for you to be my firsts,” He had jokingly said, but was met up with a glare from the bedridden patient so Shanks immediately deflected, “So,” he said, gaze drifting around before settling back on her. “How’ve you been?”

The silence between them stretched.

“Peachy,” she answered curtly, her voice clipped, eyes already drifting back toward the ceiling as if it could shield her.

Shanks inhaled, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Right. Should’ve expected that.”

There was a flicker in her gaze then. Still, her voice was softer this time. “Luffy missed you.”

Shanks’ face shifted, just slightly. His grin widened at the name being dropped, he thinks of the little guy who had dreams like his former captain, who’s now wearing his hat like a legacy. 

“Missed that little anchor too,” Shanks said with a smile. 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The name alone was enough to carve silence between them.

But Shanks pushed forward anyway, taking a cautious step closer, his eyes scanning her face like he was searching for something left unsaid.

“But I asked about you , sweetheart,” he said gently, his voice lower now. No grin. Just rawness.

“Never better,” she bit out, her voice thick with sarcasm as she shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the sting that laced through her ribcage. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Shanks didn’t flinch, but something tightened in his eyes. His arms were still crossed, his stance relaxed—but only on the surface. “I want to hear the truth, at least,” he replied, tone softer now, stripped of that usual teasing lilt.

She stared at him, and then, without warning, glared, sharp, unfiltered, exhausted.

“Well,” she said, dragging the word like a blade, “I feel like shit. My head’s pounding, I can’t feel half my fingers, and I think I might hurl in about two minutes. So if you’re done playing pirate therapist, could you please get me a bucket?”

Shanks blinked once. “Why a bucket,” he said, already walking over to the gaped door with a nonchalant tilt of his head, “when you’ve got a perfectly good sea right outside this room?”

Despite herself, a breathy laugh escaped her lips. 

“Yeah, right,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, “As if I’d dare tarnish your beloved sea.”

He turned back, just in time to catch the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t bitter. Just a flicker of something long buried between them, genuine, if fleeting.

Her words held no venom now, only the dry edge of someone too tired to pretend and too familiar with the person standing before her. It was the kind of banter only shared between people who had once known each other too well and maybe still did.

Shanks leaned against the wooden walls of the room, watching her with a quiet fondness. “My sea’s been through worse,” he said, “It can handle a little heartbreak.”

“How ‘bout you?” she asked suddenly, voice casual but eyes carefully trained on him, like she was daring him to be honest. It caught Shanks off guard, but he recovered with a tilt of his head and a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“How’s the big scary Yonko faring in his beloved sea?”

A laugh erupted from him, loud, familiar, and echoing with that signature Red-Haired charm. It rumbled from his chest, deep and full, and for a fleeting moment, she saw not the infamous Emperor of the Sea, but the boy who once dangled his legs off the Oro Jackson beside her, carefree and bright-eyed.

“This big and scary Yonko,” he said, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye, “was absolutely terrified for a certain patient’s life. Scariest I’ve ever felt, I fear.” His voice dipped with quiet sincerity toward the end, a tremble of truth hidden in the humor.

She held his gaze, her smile softening just slightly before her tone leveled into something more grounded.

“I’m fine, Shanks,” she said, but it was too clean, too rehearsed. Her posture had stiffened, the slight tremor in her fingers betraying the calm she tried to maintain.

He watched her closely, unconvinced. The image of her back on that bloodstained island, crumpled beneath the weight of everything she carried, played on repeat in his mind.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, his voice low and earnest, no longer laced with his usual levity.

“I’m not pretending,” she lied.

“Here’s some tangerine, your favorite,” Shanks suddenly said, setting down a small woven basket on the bedside table with a casual air that didn’t quite mask the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. “A bit sour since it’s not in season, but still sweet enough to eat. Don’t worry.”

She blinked at the offering, then at him, eyes narrowing slightly, not in annoyance, but in curiosity. Her fingers reached toward the fruit instinctively, brushing against the coarse skin of one of them. The scent was immediate, bright, citrusy, familiar.

“You have a tangerine tree on your ship now?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, as if trying to place the absurdity of it. Her voice was light, teasing, but her gaze stayed fixed on his face.

Shanks just hummed in response, a noncommittal sound paired with a shrug.

But you don’t like tangerines.

She didn’t say it out loud. It stayed trapped in the back of her throat like so many other things she didn’t allow herself to speak. Shanks never liked tangerines. Too acidic, he used to say. Always gave her some every time the three pirate apprentices scavange through a new island they just docked in. 

“Thanks…” She quietly said as she watched Shanks leave the room.

----

“Look who’s up!” Lucky Roux bellowed from the edge of the deck, waving one thick arm toward the figure emerging from the cabin. A broad grin stretched across his face, and several heads turned in her direction.

“I’m not that sick,” she called back with a small smile, the breeze catching strands of her hair as she stepped fully into view. Sunlight kissed her skin, and for the first time in a while, she didn’t feel like she was suffocating.

“For the lady,” Roux said, presenting her with a skewer of freshly grilled meat, steam still rising from it.

As a Monkey D., she knows better than to reject a peace offering. Especially if it’s meat. She takes the meat with little to know grace, munching on it immediately. 

The crew chuckled, a few raising their mugs in a lazy salute.

“Not pairing my meat with beer? That’s preposterous,” she added with a mock frown, biting into the meat again. It was warm, juicy, something she missed. 

“We’re gonna dock soon,” Lucky Roux said, shifting beside her. “Might take a couple of days.”

She arched her brow. “One of those usual remote islands you lot crash on for rest and reckless drinking? Or something different?”

“Nah, captain said we needed to restock,” Yassop chimed in, puffing lazily on a cigarette. “Supplies, medicine, the works.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she inhaled deeply. The scent of the sea filled her lungs, salt and wind and wood and freedom. The breeze danced over her skin, she closed her eyes briefly, letting it wrap around her.

Being on a pirate ship felt different. It was different.

Even as a Vice Admiral, she never got to experience this, the quiet laughter, the sun-warmed deck beneath her feet, the unspoken bond between people who’ve risked their lives together not for duty, but for choice.

This wasn’t obligation. It was freedom.

And god, how she missed it.

“Now look who’s finally out of their room!” Shanks shouted, his voice booming with playful exaggeration as he strode across the deck. Without hesitation, he slung a heavy arm over her shoulders.

The gesture, so familiar yet distant, made her shoulders tense instinctively. Her balance wavered, just for a moment. She wasn’t as steady on her feet as she thought she’d be, her recovery is growing less and less each day. 

“Shanks,” she murmured, her voice low but not cold. A soft smile ghosted across her lips before she could stop it, brief, fleeting, but real. The man beside her still carried the same spark in his eyes, the same lopsided grin that used to drive her mad. 

“Oh~?” Shanks leaned closer, his red hair brushing her cheek as he tilted his head with mock disbelief. “Was that a smile I just saw? Are you actually happy to see me now? Miracles do happen.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He laughed, loud, unrestrained, like a certain captain they sailed under from back then, Shanks nudged her gently with his elbow. “You wound me. After everything I’ve done for you.”

“Your everything ain’t much if I’m being honest,” She jabbed at red-haired.

“Hey!” 

Choruses of laughter from his crewmates erupted.

----

Roger’s execution wasn’t a celebration, no matter how the world painted it.

The crowds in Loguetown had gathered like it was a festival, eager to see the Pirate King die, their voices loud with awe and hunger for a new era. Some cheered. Some jeered. Some clung to hope for the treasures whispered in dying breaths. But for her, for them, it was mourning in the truest form.

Heavy rain fell like judgment. Cold, sharp, relentless.

She stood in the shadow of the gallows, soaked through, her coat clinging to her frame, fists clenched at her sides. Beside her, Shanks was silent, red hair plastered to his face, lips drawn tight. He had cried, she realized, but now that it was raining heavily, she couldn't quite decipher it as well.

Buggy had just run off, screaming something about Shanks being a fool, his figure vanishing into the storm.

“Buggy rejected you, huh?” she said at last, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the patter of rain. It wasn’t mockery, far from it. Her tone was flat, like she had already expected it.

A beat of silence passed between them, and then Shanks took a hesitant step closer.

“I was gonna wait to ask, but…” He extended his hand, trembling just barely. “The offer’s for you too. Come with me. Let’s be pirates together.”

She looked down at his hand. It was the same hand that had once pulled her up when she stumbled on the deck of the Oro Jackson. The same hand that offered her meat when she hadn’t eaten. The same hand she used to sneakily reach for during storms when she was scared.

Now it was shaking.

Her eyes flicked toward the empty scaffolding, the wooden beams stained with rain—and Roger’s blood.

“Shanks…” she whispered.

“Don’t say no,” he said quickly, almost desperately. “Not after everything.”

She exhaled, slow and shaky. “Sha–”

Shanks interrupted, not wanting her rejection and excuse to be verbalized, “You wanted to, you wan–”

“I’m going to be a Marine,” she cut in, her voice firm, though her lips quivered. “I’ve already decided.”

His hand faltered in the air.

It made sense to her. It was the rational thing to do.

She had just watched a man—no, the man who had changed her life—die at the hands of the system her family served. A system her father upheld. A system her brother once fought for.

A system she had no choice but to return to.

To her, becoming a Marine was the only way to keep what little stability she had left. Garp was a Marine. Dragon was a Marine. Her blood was steeped in justice, in duty, in structure. Her and the naive dream to be able to change it.

But for Shanks?

For Shanks, it was betrayal.

He had just witnessed the World Government and the Marines steal the life of the only man he ever called Captain. He had lost Buggy. He had lost Roger. And now, he was losing her too.

“Decide differently,” Shanks said, the words sharper than he meant them to be. His voice was tight, strained.

She blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in tone.

“You think this is easy for me?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it was cold. Steady.

“You think it’s easier for me?” he shot back.

“I have ties in the Marines,” she said, stepping back as if putting physical distance might temper the fire in his chest. “I’m not meant for your kind of freedom, Shanks.”

His hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, why it felt like her words were slicing open old wounds he hadn’t known he still carried.

“You don’t know a thing,” he muttered.

She frowned. “I know enough.”

She didn’t. She didn’t know that Shanks came from a past as stained and fractured as her own. That he wasn’t born free. That Roger saved him from a fate darker than most could imagine. That one day he had to step inside the place of his lineage, as much as he hated it. 

“You’re going to regret it,” Shanks said, not as a threat, not as spite. His voice was low, roughened by rain and grief. There was no smugness in his tone. He wasn’t warning her out of arrogance, he was mourning her before she even left.

She didn’t meet his eyes. If she did, she knew she’d shatter.

Shanks stepped forward, just once, but stopped himself from reaching out. They had touched so many times before, laughs shared under starlight, bruises exchanged during sparring, warmth passed during cold nights at sea.

But now?

Now his hands stayed at his sides. Anchored.

“I know you better than you think,” he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly, pained. “You’d hate yourself.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep it together. One second longer and she’d break.

“Goodbye, Shanks,” she said instead, turning and walking away from the comfort. “See you at sea.”

----

They met again for the first time in years.

----

The bitterness that had once wrapped around their hearts like iron had eroded, softened by time. With distance came clarity. With maturity came yearning, not the painful kind, but the quiet ache that settles in the chest when you realize the person you once pushed away is still part of your soul.

She hadn’t expected to hear her name that way, called out so openly, so joyfully. It echoed across the harbor, cutting through the noise of the port town.

And when she turned, blinking under the sun, there he was. A flash of crimson, a familiar grin, a mop of unmistakable red hair. Shanks.

“Shanks??” Her voice pitched up with disbelief and delight, her smile radiant, blooming like spring after a long winter.

Before she could say more, he was already there, arms around her, spinning her off the ground in a hug that pulled the breath out of her lungs and replaced it with laughter. She clung to him without hesitation, surprised by how natural it still felt.

“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, once her feet found the earth again.

Shanks, still holding her elbows, looked at her with stars in his eyes—his grin boyish, just slightly crooked. “Docked here for some supplies,” he said, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, “but rumor had it there was a very charming and dangerously competent captain in the area.”

She snorted. “Who would that be?”

“I wonder who?” he said with a lopsided grin as they stood there for a moment longer than they should’ve, in the middle of a bustling dock, hearts caught somewhere between nostalgia and something dangerously close to hope.

“Huh,” Yassop muttered, eyes narrowing as he watched the woman who had been lingering near their captain ever since they docked. His arms crossed over his chest, an unreadable expression painted across his face. “You don’t look like the Captain’s type.”

She turned toward him, a brow arching. “Your captain has a type ?”

“N—” Limejuice tried to interject, perhaps to soften the blow, but Yassop barreled right over him.

“Petite,” Yassop began, counting on his fingers with theatrical flair. “Cute. Small. Maybe even a little helpless. You know, that damsel in distress effect.”

Each word stabbed just a bit sharper than the last.

She blinked. Her lips parted slightly, caught between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh…” she exhaled, her mouth agape just enough to hide how that landed, deep and uncomfortable. Convenient , she thought. That’s… everything she wasn’t.

Too tall. Too harsh. Too stubborn. Just gr—

“What are you guys talking about?” Shanks asked, flashing his usual boyish grin as he approached the small gathering.

“Nothing!” Yassop and Limejuice chimed in unison, a little too quickly. The woman beside them merely smiled with quiet amusement, clearly enjoying their flustered state. For all his carefree charm, it was easy to forget how much Shanks was respected by his crew, despite his young age. But now that they’d reunited, she could see how much he’d grown. 

“Really?” Shanks tilted his head, raising a brow in suspicion.

Before the others could dig themselves into a deeper hole, she casually looped her arm around his and leaned into him with a playful bump of her shoulder. “Exactly that. Nothing.”

Shanks glanced down at her, teasing warmth in his voice. “You’re getting awfully chummy. How would the world react, seeing their beloved Marine Captain arm in arm with a pirate like me?”

“They’ll live,” she quipped, her tone light but steady. “Besides, it’s not like you’re pillaging this island, right? Normal people know you don’t do that. I think.”

Shanks let out a laugh, light and windblown, “You think, huh? You sure you’re not ruining that pristine Marine record of yours by hanging around me?”

“Oh come on, your being noisy," She rolled her eyes , "let’s go and eat something. There’s this nice place that sells lobster, you still like that, right?” she said casually, though her eyes flickered with something softer, nostalgic.

Shanks’s face lit up like the sun hitting open waters. “I could never reject a woman’s offer to eat lobster,” he grinned, already falling into step beside her.

The streets of the island were warm and busy, dotted with cheerful chatter and the occasional cry of seagulls. They didn’t talk much as they walked, comfortable silence now filled the space between them.

When they reached the restaurant, Shanks looked around in delight, already imagining a seat by the window, B ut she surprised him. “To-go, please,” she told the vendor instead, then turned to Shanks. “We’re having a picnic.”

“A picnic?” Shanks raised a brow but didn’t protest, already intrigued.

“There’s a spot nearby, by the cliffs. I sit there when I needed to clear my head.” Her voice lowered, just slightly.

He smiled, following without another word.

As they found the perfect place overlooking the ocean, she spread the food between them on the grass, the red of the lobster almost glowing under the sun.

“If this keeps going, my crew’s gonna start calling me a neglectful captain,” Shanks teased, taking a generous bite and groaning with exaggerated delight.

“It’s been years since we ate together like this,” she said, smiling as she picked at her lobster with delicate precision. “They’ll live.”

Shanks let out a hearty laugh, the same laugh she remembered from what felt like a lifetime ago. “You really look like a reliable captain now,” she teasingly said out of the blue, taking a big bite of his own.

"While you still eat like an animal,” He said back, watching her with a playful smirk.

For a moment, the world around them faded, no Yonko, no Marines, no war or duty or time. Just them, sitting cross-legged on a faded cloth under the shade of an old tree, salt on their lips and sea breeze in their hair.

They talked like no time had passed. Jokes about Buggy’s tantrums. Memories of Roger yelling at them to “hold on tighter” during storms. The nights spent huddled beneath the stars, whispering dreams and dumb ideas to each other.

Shanks was the same. Older, yes. Stronger, yes. But his spirit? Still that scrappy, sharp-eyed boy, S he caught herself watching him too long, too softly. The way the light hit his hair, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way he still made her laugh without trying.

And then she felt it, that tug in her chest, that familiar ache.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t do this. Not again. But sitting here, with him, the years peeled away like they never existed.

She can’t help but fall in love with him all over again. 

----

That’s why, after a few weeks of The Red-Haired Pirates docking in this quaint island, she had decided to do something quite reckless.

She had kissed him, and he could only look at her with widened eyes. She was hoping for warmth, a laugh, a grin, maybe even the rare sight of the infamous Red-Haired Captain flustered.

But what she got was silence. His fingers rose, gently brushing against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something already fading.

“I can’t,” Shanks murmured, barely above the sound of the sea between them.

Her heart dropped.

Her love was answered with an I can’t . With rejection.

She bit the inside of her cheek, tasting salt that wasn’t from the ocean.

She thought of the nights wrapped in the same blanket, their knees touching beneath a shared silence. The soft laughter. The reckless teasing. The vulnerable conversations under the stars, whether it was yesterday or ten years ago, it all remained etched in her, stubborn and beautiful.

She had believed that maybe, maybe, some part of him held onto it too.

But now, with a kiss she never meant to be a goodbye, she knew, this moment would shift everything.

And that was the last moment they had with each other.

She knew then, as his laughter from his ship faded into the night and the scent of salt clung to his cloak, that she had never stood a chance. Not truly. Not against the pull of the horizon, not against the freedom in his veins.

He belonged to the sea.

And the sea never shared.

----

“Men!” Shanks called out, voice cracking ever so slightly as he raised a half-filled mug toward the sky. His usual grin was replaced by something softer.

“Let’s drink!”

----

Years later, when they meet again, it will be beneath the sun that shines over hometown, and standing beside her will be a wide-eyed, grinning rascal, pestering Shanks with unrelenting energy, who will soon inherit the will that’s the Straw Hat.

----

“Shanks…” Hongo’s voice came out low, hesitant, as he stood just outside her door. He couldn’t meet his captain’s gaze—how could he, with the weight of the news sitting like lead on his tongue? “I’m sorry.”

Shanks turned to him, smiling out of habit, though something uneasy tugged at the edges of his chest. “What is it, Hongo?”

The ship doctor hesitated for just a moment longer before the words dropped, heavy and final.

“She only has a few months left to live.”

The smile on Shanks’ face faltered, no, shattered. One word slipped from his lips, barely audible over the crashing waves beyond the deck.

“…What?”

----

“You knew?” Shanks’ voice was low, but there was something sharp in it, something that cracked beneath the surface. His eyes, usually warm with mischief or mirth, had gone cold. Focused. Piercing.

She didn’t flinch.

“Yes, I knew.” Her voice cut back with equal weight, though not as steady. “And I knew the real reason you kept docking on islands with no real trade value.” Her hand dragged down her face, wearied more by the conversation than her illness. “You weren’t looking for food or supplies. You were looking for a cure.”

Shanks stared at her, the silence stretching between them like a taut rope. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hongo’s your senior officer,” she replied flatly. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to hear it from him?”

“You don’t believe that,” Shanks said. “Do you?” Shanks would much rather listen in on the person with said illness, the same person he had cared for as well. 

She didn’t respond, and in her silence, Shanks sighed, long and tired, the sound of a man who’s been fighting something he can’t punch away.

His voice dropped. “So… you knew from the beginning. That’s why you asked me, isn’t it?”

Her eyes flickered, the briefest trembling in her fingers before she folded them into her sleeves. “I said what I said and I’m not going to take it back,” she murmured, “because I trust you more than anyone in this world.”

She looked at him then, not fragile, not even afraid, but unguarded.

“I can’t rely on anyone else to do it right.”

“You’re a cruel lady,” Shanks said, and though his voice held a teasing lilt, it faltered at the edges. There was a bitter smile on his face, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, because deep down, he knew: he couldn’t win with her. Not in this. Not ever.

She let out a lifeless chuckle, dry and hollow, despite wanting to ease the tension. “If only you knew what they call me in the Marines.”

“I don’t need to know,” he replied, softer now, searching her face for something, anything, beneath the cracks. “cause I know what you are.”

“Oh?” she raised a brow, dragging her gaze up to meet his. “And what am I, Red Hair?”

Shanks hesitated. The truth itched at the back of his throat.

“You’re someone who carries the world on her back, smiles like it’s light, and dares anyone to notice the weight.” He exhaled slowly, his words sincere. “A reckless woman indeed.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. But it passed quickly.

“That’s funny,” she murmured. “Because when I look at you, I see a man who sailed the seas to outrun the things he couldn’t fix. We’re not so different, you and I.”

Shanks looked away for a moment, jaw clenched, tongue caught behind words he wanted to say. That’s not true, if you knew what I’ve been doing these past few years…

“But you still asked me,” he said quietly, unsaid words remain unsaid. 

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

“You know I love you, right?” Shanks whispered, as if the words themselves might crumble under their own weight. His voice was quiet, almost too quiet, like he was afraid of what the sentence might become once spoken. 

She didn’t answer at first.

Brows furrowed, she blinked slowly, as if trying to decipher whether she had truly heard him right. She thought she had misheard the man she had known since childhood. 

Then after a few pauses, she answers, her hands clenched onto the bedding, glaring at the man, not believing a word that had left his lips. 

“No,” she said, curt and steady. “I don’t.”

Shanks blinked, surprised by the bluntness of it. He wasn’t expecting that type of answer.

“You don’t get to say that to me,” she continued, her voice cold under the silver gleam of moonlight. “Don’t you dare ever say you love me.”

Her words hit like a blade, it started blunt, yet it got sharper the more she says and she didn’t stop.

“Love is unconditional. Love is warm,” she said, jabbing a finger into her own chest. “You want to talk about love?”

Her voice cracked, just slightly.

“I’m afraid to die, no because of the pain, or what hell or judgement I’d face, but because I want to see Luffy become Pirate King. I want to see Ace carve his name into the world leaving his own legacy. I want to see the day my brother and my father finally reunite.”

She got out of bed, stepping forward towards where Shanks is, and now her finger pressed hard into his chest.

“They left me. Over and over. And still, I wait. Like some loyal fucking dog.” She took a shaky breath. “That’s love.”

Her hand fell back to her side, clenched into a trembling fist.

“That’s fucking love, Red-Haired.”

Shanks stood there, silent. Taking it. Letting her speak, letting her bleed it out, because he knew he had no right to interrupt.

“And you?” she laughed bitterly. “You brought me nothing but confusion. Silence. Half-truths. Heartbreak.”

She shook her head slowly, her eyes wet but blazing.

“So don’t you dare tell me you love me now, when you couldn’t even give me the dignity of closure.”

She turned her back slightly, her voice growing smaller, but no less furious.

Shanks tried to reach for her arm, her name softly leaving his lips, but she continued.

“You’ve always loved the sea more than me. And that’s fine. I made peace with that a long time ago.” She laughed, 'cause what can she do? The man she had painfully pined over the years and in the end rejected her, says that he loves her, when she was running on limited time.

“What I can’t forgive,” A pause, “what I’ll never accept is you standing there with those sad fucking eyes, telling me you love me... like it makes things better between us.”

Shanks didn’t say anything for a long time.

The night wind moved around them through the open door. brushing past her like an apology, rustling the red hair that earned him his name, now shadowed by guilt.

He stepped forward once.

Then stopped.

His hands clenched at his sides, not out of anger, but restraint, because the part of him that wanted to reach out, to hold her, to pull her close and say I’m sorry , was still the same part that had left her all those years ago.

"I don’t expect you to forgive me," Shanks said at last, his voice low, honest in a way that felt almost cruel.

She didn’t turn to face him. Her shoulders remained rigid, like the tension alone was holding her together.

"And I won’t insult you by asking for it."

Silence. But her breathing wasn’t steady anymore.

“I meant what I said,” he continued, each word heavier than the last. “My love for you… it was consuming.”

She furrowed her brows, a bitter scoff caught in her throat. Another excuse. Another romanticized lie.

“What I wanted was to live a quiet pirate life, just the three of us,” Shanks started out, a smile etched on his face as he thought back the memories they had in the Oro Jackson, the happiest moments of his life. 

“But then there were times I imagined something else. A quiet life. You and me. A farm, maybe. A family.” He shook his head, bitter at the dream. “And that's what terrified me.”

Her silence stung. So he kept going, the only way he knew how, forward, even if the ground was falling apart beneath him.

“I’m a pirate. The sea calls for me. But you—” Shanks looked at her, really looked at her— “You were like my anchor. You pulled me in, even when I didn’t want to be caught.”

She turned her head slowly, just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye. “I was your anchor? So I was the weight? The thing that held you back from chasing your grand adventure?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

But she wasn’t convinced. Her fingers twitched at her sides, trembling from holding back too much for too long.

Shanks stepped forward, his voice quieter now. “You were my freedom too. I just didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

That’s when she turned fully. Her gaze met his, glassy but sharp.

“Do you think that makes it easier?” she asked, voice frayed at the edges. “Hearing that now?”

“No,” he whispered. “But you deserve the truth. Even if it’s a thousand years late.” Eyes yearning for a future they never get to live in.

The wind picked up slightly, pushing the salty air against her cheeks, but it did nothing to cool the fire inside her chest. She hadn’t meant to say any of it, not to Shanks, but the words came tumbling out before she could stop them. She didn’t want his pity, she never did, but it felt like the weight of everything was finally collapsing on her.

“I lived a life where everyone I love left me,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words made them more real. 

“My mom, my dad,” She pressed her hands to her forehead, shielding her eyes from Shanks, the tears falling freely now, “My brother.”

Shanks didn’t move. He didn’t speak, but his eyes never left her, his presence quiet and steady.

“I gave up my freedom for Garp and Luffy,” she choked out, her breath hitching. “I stuck with Luffy because... because I grew up alone, and I didn’t want that for him. His dad... my brother left to do something greater, something important.” Her voice broke on the last word, but she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop.

“I wanted to do the same,” she continued, her chest tightening, her grip on her hair becoming more desperate. “But I just can’t leave Luffy alone.” She shut her eyes, biting her lip so hard that it almost hurt, willing herself to stop the flood of emotions. She didn’t want him to see her this way. She didn’t want to break down in front of him.

But he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Then he found himself his own family,” she continued, her words bitter with the sting of truth. “And he’s leaving, too, to be a pirate. And in the end... I’m the idiot who’s left behind, waiting for everyone to come back. I’m the one who stays, Shanks. I’m the one who stays .”

Her breath was ragged now, tears still falling, though she no longer cared.

Shanks didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply moved closer, his large presence both grounding and comforting.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough, his words quiet, but firm. “You’re not waiting. You’re living. You’ve been living, fighting for those you love, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

Her head snapped up, surprise flickering in her eyes, but Shanks didn’t meet her gaze. 

“I never wanted to leave you behind,” he murmured, “I never wanted to make you feel like that. But the sea... the sea calls, and we have our paths. We all have our own journeys. But that doesn’t mean you’re not important. You’re more than just someone left waiting. You’ve taken a piece of my heart with you, whether you believe it or not.”

“I don’t,” she whispered softly, “I don’t believe it.”

For a moment, the two stood there, locked in the silence of everything they were and everything they could never be.

----

“Boss?” Lucky Roux called, stepping toward Shanks the moment the red-haired captain emerged from the room she’s staying in. The sea breeze tugged at his coat, but Shanks didn’t seem to feel it.

Shanks stood still for a beat, his eyes dark beneath the shadow of his hat. His jaw was clenched, his usual grin nowhere to be found.

“Find a remote island,” he said, voice low and cold— resigned. “We’re doing this.”

A beat of silence.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” his crew echoed, voices steady but weighed with unspoken understanding.

----

Her fingers trembled by her sides, but her eyes, her eyes were still. Steady. They gleamed under the soft light with a clarity Shanks hadn’t seen in her for a long time: resolve, and something heavier, something final. He hated that look. It meant her decision had already been made. She wasn’t waiting for him to change it, just to accept it. Still, Shanks looked at her as if the weight in his chest might lift if he could just say it, if he could finally admit what he’d never been brave enough to before.

“I love you,” he said, quieter this time. No grin, no teasing lilt, just the truth. Raw and bare, stripped of everything he usually used to protect himself. It was the only thing he had left to give her.

There was a pause. A silence so thin it could’ve split open if one of them so much as breathed wrong.

“Yeah,” she said, voice soft, a smile tugging at her lips like it had been stitched there with thread too weak to hold. “I love you, Shanks.”

But she didn’t say 'too.'

And that absence meant everything.

Not because the words weren’t true. They were more than anything else she’d ever said. But because acknowledging it, admitting it fully, would’ve broken her. Would’ve tied her down to something she could no longer afford to chase.

She believed he said it to make her feel better. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. It didn’t matter.

Because in the end, this was it for her. 

He felt it, every trembling breath she took, every flicker of pain she tried to bury beneath that ever-steady gaze. It took everything in her just to stand, to speak, to let him see her like this: fragile, fading, but still proud. She never begged. Never cowered. Even now, at the end of everything, she clung to the last remnants of who she was. That was her final act of defiance.

“I’m asking you to set me free,” she said, cutting through the silence, her voice steady, almost gentle. “Before it gets to me. Before I forget who I am.”

Shanks’s hand curled into a fist. His jaw tightened so hard it ached. “Change your mind,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Don’t ask me for this.”

But she only looked at him, unwavering. “I made up my mind, I trust you, Figarland Shanks.”

Tears shimmered in his eyes, refusing to fall, not yet. Not until she meets her peace. 

“Make it fast?” she asked, and this time her voice wavered.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice breaking around the edges, but still he meant it. With every aching bone in his body, he meant it.

She closed her eyes.

And then, with the quiet grace of a man who had carried the sea in his chest, Shanks drew his blade, not with anger, not with grief, but with reverence, as if he were not ending a life.

She waited for it, waited for the sharp, clean edge of mercy. But instead, he stepped forward. Gently, without a word, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

It shattered her.

The intimacy, so simple, so tender, caught her off guard. Especially after everything that had passed between them in their last encounter: the distance, the denial, the years filled with unspoken longing. The affection she had buried deep in her ribs, pined for in silence, was suddenly returned. But at what cost?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low, raw.

Her tears came in torrents, freely now, spilling down her cheeks as she managed a breathless, “I know.”

Then—

The blade slid through her heart like a whisper.

No sound. No resistance.

Only the wind remained.

And when it passed, she was gone.

Shanks stood there, unmoving, holding her close even as the warmth slipped from her limbs. For a long time, he said nothing. Did nothing. The sea was quiet, almost reverent, mourning with him in stillness.

And then, he wept.

Not loud. Not wild. Just a single tear, slipping down a face that had braved storms and gods.

Even the sea could not carry this loss.

----

“Men!” Shanks called out, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he raised a half-filled mug toward the sky. His usual grin, wide and reckless, was replaced by something more hollow, 

He could not hide his sorrow, not tonight. Despite the cheery lilt in his tone, his cheeks were stained with tears, carved by grief like rivers over weathered stone. 

“Let’s drink!” he declared, loud and bright, as if the sheer force of his voice could drown out the ache swelling in his chest.

“To her,” he said, quietly this time, to himself, voice nearly lost to the wind,

Foosha Village

12 years before canon

Luffy had said something that made her stop in her tracks, something loud and offhand, like most things he said, but this one stuck.

“Ace is the Pirate King’s son!”

She blinked. At first, she just stared at Luffy, deadpanned, assuming it was just another one of his dramatic exaggerations. But the more she thought about it… the more it made no sense. There was a purge of newborns after the Pirate King was executed, but somehow she realized that Ace did bear a faint resemblance to Roger, with a hint of feminine features. 

“You sure he’s Roger’s kid?” she asked, trying to keep her voice flat, feigning indifference. But her heart was already racing with a strange excitement. She hadn’t spoken much to Ace since he’d shown up; most of her time was still wrapped around her Marine duties. And when she came back, it felt like Luffy had already found his own family.

“Yeah!” Luffy nodded emphatically, mouth full, rice flying. “He hates it, though. But that’s just stupid!” he declared, banging his cup on the table. “His dad is COOL! ”

“But I’ll be cooler!” 

She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips as she set down a plate of meat in front of him.

And then, just like that, it was gone and Luffy scrambled.

“I’m gonna go!!!” Luffy shouted, shoving the last of his food into his mouth before bolting out the door with the speed only a boy like him could manage.

She looked down at the empty dishes he'd left behind.

Her chest twisted.

It was a strange ache, half-hurt, half-warmth. Luffy had found his brothers. (brother, she reminded herself of the loss, brother, she repeated) He didn’t wait for her to come back to give him a family. He’d found one on his own.

And even if it stung a little… It also made her proud.

She decides to try and talk to Ace if given the chance.

Dadan called out her name.

“I didn’t know you were back!” Dadan said, despite her fear of Garp, she had always liked his daughter, she might even say that she thinks of her as her own daughter.

“Been here a few days,” she replied, gently pulling away from the hug. “I just didn’t have time to drop by. Sorry.”

Dadan lit a cigarette, leaned against the rickety door frame of her house, and exhaled. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. You’re glowing as always.” She laughed dryly. 

“Hah! That’s the alcohol,” Dadan smirked. “So, are ya hanging for a while, or just passing through?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked out toward the trees where distant laughter echoed, Luffy’s, maybe Ace’s too. 

“Not sure, my transponder snail is a bit lethargic, so I left her alone” she said at last. “If I’m getting calls from work, I wouldn't know.”

A silence settled between them before she broke it again.

“So. Ace and Luffy.”

Dadan let out a small laugh, flicking ash into the dirt. “Thank you for taking care of them, I know it’s hard, It’s probably like holding back two hurricanes with a wet mop.”

“You’re not wrong.” Dadan smiled, her expression softening. “But they grew on me. Those boys… they’re gonna tear the world apart someday. In the best way.”

“It’s weird seeing you openly be affectionate of these boys,” She smirked at Dadan,  who widened her eyes, looking like she was caught red handed, “So you do care!” 

“I DON’T!” 

“AUNTIEEEEE!”

Luffy’s voice rang out across the clearing like a cannonball, full of mischief and raw enthusiasm. His rubber arms shot forward, grabbing at her shoulders as he launched himself toward her with a force that would’ve knocked any other adult straight off their feet.

She caught him, barely. Her boots scraped back against the dirt trail as she braced herself.

“Luffy—ow! That’s my shoulder, not a slingshot target,” she grumbled, but she didn’t push him away. If anything, she allowed herself to smile just a little at the boy now clinging to her with the kind of desperation only Luffy could muster.

“Come on, come on, pleaaaase train Ace and me!” he beamed up at her, eyes sparkling with that wide, reckless hope of his.

She raised a brow. “Isn’t Garp training you guys?”

“He’s not here! ” Luffy complained, flailing his arms with cartoonish dramatics. “And when he is, he’s scary! He punches too hard, and he threw me into a mountain last week!”

“That sounds tamer than when he trained me,” she said dryly, crossing her arms.

“But you’re better! You’re cool! And you don’t yell as much!”

He gave her that look. That stupid, effective look. Big round eyes, quivering lip, like the entire world would end if she said no.

She sighed and glanced past him to where Ace stood a few feet away, arms crossed and expression unreadable. But there was a flicker in his eyes, curiosity, maybe? Or a silent challenge.

“I don’t know…” she started, only for Luffy to up the ante by grabbing her hands with both of his and practically shaking her. “Pleeaase, Auntie! We’ll be so good!”

She stared down at him, then she turned toward Ace. “What about you? You okay with this?”

Ace shrugged, but there was a spark of something almost eager behind the casual tone.

“I don’t care, I just want to get stronger,” he said. “If you’re gonna teach us anything, I’ll take it seriously.”

She folded her arms, pretending to consider. “I’m not going easy on either of you.”

“YEAHHHH!” Luffy whooped, already running circles around her. “You’re the best!!”

Along the way, they had realized, maybe, just maybe, her training was slightly harsher than Garp. 

“You’re worse than Gramps!” Luffy cried through a mouthful of food, crumbs spilling onto his lap as he stuffed his face with roasted meat.

“You’re the one who kept slacking off,” she muttered, unfazed, casually tossing a fruit toward Ace, who caught it one-handed.

The three of them were seated around a small fire, the meat they’d hunted sizzling faintly on flat stones and as per usual, Luffy fell asleep after taking in almost all of their food, he was now sprawled out on the grass, his stomach round.

“So, Ace,” she started casually, “I hea—”

“Why’d ya become a Marine?” Ace interrupted, sharp and unexpected.

She blinked, the firelight casting flickers across her face as the question settled between them. It wasn’t an accusation, but it was laced with curiosity. A question he probably couldn’t ask Garp, especially not to Luffy.

“As much as Garp yells at us to be Marines, I don’t think he can force us,” Ace added, picking at the edge of the eaten watermelon, eyes not meeting hers. “You’re strong. You could’ve just said no. Become a pirate. Do whatever you want. Was being a Marine your dream? Who in their right mind dreams of being a Marine?”

She exhaled slowly, watching the embers dance in the pit. “You’re asking a lot of questions tonight.”

Ace shrugged but went quiet, waiting.

“…To answer you,” she said at last, her voice even but distant, “I couldn’t throw away everything Garp gave me. As much as I wanted freedom, I couldn’t walk away from the man who raised me.”

She thought of Garp’s face when Dragon left. The grief buried under fury. The quiet in the house that followed.

“I don’t agree with the system. I’ve seen its ugliness more than most. But Garp… he believed in the good parts. He wanted me to be safe. To be strong. I joined for him… and because I thought maybe I could do some good.”

Ace stayed still, his expression unreadable.

“But my best… it’s not something big or heroic,” she continued, a small, bitter smile tugging at her lips. “I realized I can’t change the world. I just try to keep the people I love safe.”

She hated being a Marine, but she loved her family more, even when it sometimes felt unreciprocated. 

“So you’re okay with me and Luffy becoming pirates?” Ace finally asked, quieter now. Less defiant. Seeking something, permission, maybe. Understanding.

She looked at him, really looked, and saw the way his jaw tensed, the flicker of worry in his eyes despite his tough exterior. He wanted her blessing.

“I want you both to be free,” she said softly. “No matter what path that is. If being a pirate gives you that freedom… then I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Ace turned to face the other way, but she can tell that he was flushing from the way the tip of his ears turned red. 

If Ace can ask questions, she can too. She was always curious if what Luffy had told her was ture or not. 

“Say,” she began gently, testing the waters, “I heard something from Luffy.”

Ace shifted where he sat, not looking at her. “Yeah?”

She hesitated for a moment, then continued, “That your father was Gol D. Roger… Is that true?”

The change in Ace was immediate. His shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened, and the flicker of peace in his eyes vanished. “Luffy told you that?” His voice was low, guarded.

“Yep,” she said, almost playfully, as if trying to soften the blow.

“That loudmouth…” Ace muttered, burying his face in his arms. Shame crept into his voice. “Of course he’d blab to someone else.”

She watched him carefully. The shift in his body language. The fear. The instinct to hide.

“Before you get angry,” she said calmly, standing up as she sat herself closer beside him, close enough that their knees almost touched. 

“he wasn’t trying to out you. He was just rambling. Bragging about wanting to be Pirate King, like always.”

Ace didn’t respond.

“Go on, then,” he muttered bitterly after a long pause, eyes still downcast. “Say it. Say you don’t believe it. Or that someone like Roger shouldn’t have had a kid in the first place. That I’ve got the devil’s blood or whatever crap people like to throw around.”

Her heart ached for him. This boy, so full of fire and will, still carried the weight of a name he never asked for. She ponders on what she should say next.

“I knew your father,” she said softly.

Ace’s head snapped toward her. “...What?”

“I was a stowaway on his ship when I was young and he took me in right then and there! An idiotic move seeing that my dad was Monkey D. Garp, not that he knew, anywaaays…” She rambled on.

Ace said nothing, but his gaze didn’t move from her face.

“I don’t know what you went through, Ace,” she continued, “truly. But you should know this, if your father had known you, if he’d had the chance… I think he would’ve loved you with everything he had.”

“A demon like that could never love his own child,” Ace muttered, his voice rough with a mix of anger and something quieter, something close to doubt.

But even as the words left his mouth, they didn’t settle like truth. They felt… empty. The kind of thing you say over and over until you start believing it. Except, for the first time, Ace wasn’t sure he did.

She didn’t speak right away. Just sat there, letting the silence work its way through the heaviness between them.

“You don’t sound convinced,” she finally said, quiet but firm.

Ace scoffed. “I have to.”

Her gaze flicked toward him, sharp yet gentle. “Why? Because it’s easier to hate him than to wonder what could’ve been?”

Ace clenched his fists in the dirt beneath them, jaw tightening. He looked like he wanted to yell, or run, or break something, but he didn’t. He just breathed. Shaky and uneven.

“You’re the first person,” he said slowly, “who’s ever talked about him like that. Like he was a person. Not a monster. Not a pirate king. Just... a man.”

“I didn’t know him long,” she admitted, “but I knew enough. He laughed too loud, ate too much, trusted people too easily, and risked his life for his crew. He wasn’t perfect. He was far from it. But he loved this world, and that’s why… he would’ve loved you, too.”

Ace blinked hard, head turned away as his voice cracked, “I don’t know if I could’ve loved him.”

She gently nudged his shoulder. “You don’t have to. But maybe, you can stop hating yourself because of him.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, he seemed so much younger than he usually let himself be.

“Thanks.” It was curt and mannerless, but she knew he meant well. 

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

Oro Jackson

30 years ago

“Say, Lass,” Roger called out, his voice booming warmly as he approached the girl seated cross-legged on a barrel near the ship’s edge. The salty breeze tousled her hair, but her gaze remained locked on the ocean. “Aren’t ya gonna tell me where you came from?”

She didn’t look back, only shrugged. “You never asked, old man.”

Roger barked out a hearty laugh. “Fair enough! So? Where’s home?”

“The East Blue,” she replied simply, her voice carried on the wind.

Roger whistled, his grin widening. “Well, I’ll be damned. What do you know, we’ve got more in common than I thought!”

“You’re from the East Blue?” She finally turned to face him, eyes wide with disbelief. The man on his way to becoming the best pirate this world has ever seen, hailed from what is considered as the weakest blue?

“Born and raised,” he said proudly, jabbing his thumb to his chest. “Loguetown. Polestar Islands.”

Her mouth parted slightly. “Foosha Village. Dawn Island.”

Roger chuckled. “Now that you’ve had a taste of the world, the East Blue must feel a little smaller, huh?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes wandered back to the sea, shimmering beneath the moonlight. But something in her expression had changed, a flicker of awe, of longing, of possibility.

“The sea feels alive,” she murmured. “Like it’s calling.”

Roger smiled at that, his expression softening beneath the shadow of his hat. “That’s the pull, Lass. The sea only calls the wild ones.”

“Wild, huh?” she echoed, her lips quirking upward.

“You wouldn’t be on this ship if you weren’t.”

“Guess that’s true,” she murmured, her voice lighter now, like the sea breeze itself.

Roger leaned against the railing beside her, arms crossed as he watched the same vast sea. “You wanna sail your own ship one day?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. It hadn’t crossed her mind, not really. Not seriously.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, her legs swinging off the barrel now. “I don’t think I’d make a good captain.”

Roger glanced sideways at her, but didn’t say anything. He just nodded, understanding in his silence.

“But I think about it sometimes,” she admitted, “A ship of my own. A crew. But where would I even go? What would I be looking for?”

“Freedom,” Roger said,  like it was the easiest answer in the world, his smile brighter than the moon in the sky.  “That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”

She smiled at that, soft and tired. “Then maybe I already found it.”

Roger laughed again, deep and genuine. “Don’t be so sure. The sea’s got a way of making you chase after more, even when you think you’ve got everything you need.”

She didn’t respond right away. But as the waves gently rocked the Oro Jackson beneath them, she glanced out at the world again and wondered.

Maybe one day, when she wasn’t just a stowaway or a tagalong, when she wasn’t behind closed doors surrounded by white uniforms, when she wasn’t faced and burdened with a father’s dream, maybe the sea would call her in a different way.

“Maybe,” she said quietly. “One day.”

“Ms. Marine-chan,” Makino’s voice called out gently through a knock on the wooden door. The teasing nickname lingered in the air, soft and familiar. “Ace is about to leave. Aren’t you going to come see him off?”

“That’s early,” she responded from within, though her voice came out raspier than intended. She held back a cough, stifling it with the back of her hand. The last thing she wanted was Makino’s worry. “Yeah, I’ll come. Is Dadan still pretending she doesn’t care?”

Makino gave a knowing smile just as the door creaked open, revealing the older woman with a faint sheen of sweat on her brow.

“She’s still in denial,” Makino laughed lightly, adjusting the basket in her hands. “I brought something. I peeled one of your tangerines earlier, by the way. It's sweet!”

She handed over the basket and watched as the older woman took it with a small, amused smile.

“That’s sweet of you. Thank you,” she said, plucking a slice and popping it into her mouth before turning to place the basket gently on her table. 

“Alright,” she said, exhaling softly as she reached for her coat, “Let’s go see Ace.”

They walked towards the outskirts of the forest, Ace ventured out not on the official harbor of the island, not when people don’t know who he is.

“Take care, Aceeeee!” she heard Luffy shout, his tiny arms flailing wildly as he waved with every ounce of energy he had.

“Yeah!” Ace called back, just as loud, grinning from ear to ear as his small dinghy drifted further down the river. “See you, Luffy! I’m heading out!”

“I’ll be a lot stronger when I leave in three years!” Luffy yelled with bright conviction, the kind only a child with a dream could have.

Ace’s gaze lingered, now not on Luffy, but on the woman standing quietly beside him. The woman who wasn’t his mother, but who had done more for his heart than most ever could. She had believed in him. Spoke kindly of the father he once despised. Showed him warmth, understanding.

Ace shouted her name.

“Thank you… for everything you’ve done!” Ace shouted suddenly, his voice cracking through the air. 

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She smiled, but it wavered.

“Dadan raised you more than I did, boy!” she shouted back, voice rough with unshed emotion. She tried to wave him off with a scoff, like this was just another casual goodbye, but the lump in her throat was impossible to swallow.

“Ya both did!” Ace yelled. “Thank you again!”

“Good luck, Ace!” she called, the words almost breaking in her chest.

“Bye, Ace!” Makino and a few others chimed in beside her.. “Don’t catch a cold!”

“You just wait!” Ace’s voice rang out once more. “I’ll make my name soon!”

And just like that, just like Shanks, just like Dragon, another person she loved disappeared into the horizon.

Another piece of her heart left to chase the sea.

“You’re leaving?”

Mayor Woop Slap stood at the doorway of her small home. It had always been quiet, always a little empty, but now it felt hollow, it was far emptier than usual.

“I’m a Marine,” she replied simply, folding a shirt into her half-packed bag. “I’m always leaving.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said, the weariness in his voice sharper than before. He stepped inside and slowly lowered himself into one of the rickety wooden chairs by her table, watching her methodically stuff the rest of her belongings into the bag. Essentials. 

He exhaled. “What happened, lass?”

She paused for a moment, hand still on the bag. Then, in a quieter voice:

“Luffy didn’t cry.”

Mayor Woop Slap blinked, confused.

“When Ace left,” she clarified, her voice strained but steady. “Luffy didn’t cry.”

She wanted to. She nearly did. If she had blinked, the tears might’ve slipped free. But Luffy? He was smiling.

Big, wide, bright-eyed.

Excited about the future, about setting out, about becoming stronger.

She remembered a time when he cried. When Shanks left, he’d cried. That memory was seared into her mind: the small boy with the straw hat too big for his head, screaming on the dock towards a man she had affections for.

But that wasn’t Luffy anymore.

That boy had grown.

Now, if she left, he wouldn’t cry. He’d see it as a challenge. As a step closer to the sea. He’d chase her, not to hold her back, but to find her out there. To cross paths, to brag about his crew, to laugh and share stories with Ace under the sun.

“He’s grown.” She whispered it to no one in particular, but her heart squeezed around the truth and for the first time, she realized—

He didn’t need her anymore.

“So now, ya leaving for good?” Mayor Woop Slap leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied the young woman before him, the one who used to run barefoot through the village, covered in dirt and mischief, now dressed in something neat, her pressed Marine coat not worn, it was folded and on her bed.

She paused.

“I wouldn’t say for good,” she said finally, her voice steady, but she couldn’t look him in the eyes. Because even she wasn’t sure she believed it.

“You’ve always said you’d settle down here someday,” he reminded her gently.

She smiled. “Plans change, Mayor.”

“Luffy woul—”

“Luffy wouldn’t mind,” she cut in quickly, almost too quickly. A soft smile bloomed across her face as she turned her gaze to the window, where the wind rustled the trees outside. “He’s got his dream now. A crew to find. Seas to conquer. Who am I in his grand adventure?”

Mayor Woop Slap studied her. “Does Garp know?”

Her breath hitched. “Huh?”

“Does he know?” he repeated, more quietly this time, his voice weighed down with understanding.

She gripped the edge of the table and swallowed hard.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered, her tone just a little too rehearsed.

The room was quiet, filled only by the creaking of the wooden beams above them. Woop Slap didn’t press further. He just nodded, slow and grim.

“Makino’s worried too, you know,” he added, softer now. “She said you haven’t been by in weeks, just coming in and going, just to buy a drink for yourself.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said with a half-hearted shrug. “Marine work.”

“She thinks you’ve been avoiding Luffy.”

Her mouth tightened. “Maybe I have.”

“You know,” Woop Slap said after a pause, “that boy’s not stupid.” He paused again, realizing he’s wrong, “Okay, he’s an idiot and loud, wild, even more, but something about that boy means well..”

She walked over to the door and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“That’s fine,” she said, turning the knob. “He’s gonna find me someday and he’s gonna introduce me to his beloved crew and I’d probably cry from being too proud of him or something, I thought of this, y’know.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she opened the door to the cool dawn air and stood in the doorway for a moment, as if trying to remember something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Take care of them, Mayor,” she said, not turning around. “Take care of my home.”

Mayor Woop Slap knew she didn’t mean her house.

Everything changed, just from one simple mistake.

Isolated, alone, just like she liked, but why is this man in front of her, at her stay?

“Dragon,” she breathed, as if tasting the name for the first time in years. It sat strangely on her tongue, familiar, yet distant. “Why are you here?”

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. Even breathing has become a chore these days.

“Luffy isn’t with me,” she added, her voice flat. “But he’s fine. Wants to be a pirate. Good for him.” She paused.

“I’m not here for Luffy,” Dragon replied, voice as steady as ever, but she could hear the undercurrent of something else. Concern. Guilt. Maybe both. His eyes, usually unreadable, watched her too closely for her liking.

“Then?” she asked coldly, unwilling to entertain hope.

“I’m here for you.”

She scoffed, sharp, bitter, disbelieving. “Don’t give me that crap,” she snapped. With a shaky exhale, she pushed off the bed, staggering slightly before finding her footing. Even now, she refused to appear weak in front of him. Especially in front of him.

He had been her first heartbreak—not as a lover, but as a brother.

He chose the Revolution over their family. Over her. 

She coughed harder, lurched forward in a way Dragon had never seen, he stilled as he stared.

“What?” she said, voice laced with venom and weariness. “Surprised the girl Garp trained like a damn warhound turned out like this?”

There was a pause. Then Dragon said, quietly but firmly, “Garp would’ve never let what they did to you happen.”

That struck something deep. Her jaw clenched, eyes burning—not with tears, but something colder.

“What do you know?” She clenched her hands that were on her side.

“You weren’t there,” She said, barely a whisper. “Neither of you were.”

She clenched her fists tighter and ushering Dragon to come into the humble abode, it was small, it wasn’t a proper house even, but it was enough for her to get by. She glanced at Dragon, who just stood there, looking at her as if she was some form of entertainment.

“How did you know I was here?”

“It took awhile, but I have eyes everywhere.” 

Silence filled the air once more, she hated this, hated that Dragon was calculating something in which she had no idea of, the air around started circling while the rain turned thunderous. 

“Stop that,” She glared at her older brother, even then, they could still be bickering like siblings, no matter how long time has passed, and contrary to what she thinks, Dragon had always had the best interest for her. 

“Also,” she snapped, finally lifting her gaze, eyes blazing, “stop staring at me. Tell me, why are you really here?”

Dragon didn’t flinch. Instead, his voice came steady, deceptively calm, “How was everyone at the village?”

Of all the questions, that was the last she expected.

He was still Dragon, still the stoic, calculated revolutionary. But for a moment, she could see through the cracks. He missed it—home. Their village. The peace they once thought would last.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

“They’re fine,” she replied, voice clipped, unwilling to give him more than he deserved. “They’re doing fine.”

But her brows furrowed. Why ask about the village now? Unless—

“A close confidant of mine died a while back,” Dragon said slowly, the shadows in his voice sharpening. “She was captured by the Celestial Dragons. Died from an experimentation’s side effect… She was someone’s… eighth wife. Before she passed, she left behind her child, she’s growing up with the same side effects.”

She didn’t respond at first. Only stared, a distant memory tugged at her, half-forgotten and buried deep.

“When she escaped and called,” Dragon continued, slower now. “Your name came up.”

That made her blink. Once. Twice. Then a bitter sigh escaped her lips.

“I’m not in cahoots with them,” she said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

But Dragon wasn’t satisfied. He moved suddenly, grabbing her hand, holding her with more desperation than force. His voice dropped to a growl, “You know exactly what I’m asking.”

“No,” she hissed, trying to pull back. “I wasn’t a wife. I wasn’t subjected to something that cruel.”

It was a lie. Or, at least, a half-truth.

She was the other thing.

And she would never say it—not to Dragon, not even to Garp. Especially not to them.

Dragon stared at her like he was trying to pull the truth from her soul.

“Are you like this because of what they did to you?” he finally asked, voice low.

“No!” Her voice cracked on impact. Raw. Furious. Desperate. “It’s entirely different.”

But even as she said it, her hands trembled. The kind of trembling that doesn’t come from weakness, but from the exhaustion of holding back too much for too long.

“When was the last time you went back to the village?” Dragon asked, his arms folded, voice calm but edged with something deeper. “You told me you didn’t want Luffy to be alone… so why are you here? Come with us. Join the Revolutionaries. We can change things, bring justice to places no one else dares to see.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she rose from the bed slowly, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. With trembling hands, she grabbed the front of Dragon’s worn green cloak, clutching it as if she could somehow shake the hypocrisy out of him.

“How dare you,” she said, voice thick with disbelief. “How dare you talk about Luffy being alone.”

Her fists clenched tighter around the fabric. She looked up at him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, not weak, never weak, but exhausted.

“You say that like you weren’t the one who left. You left everything. You don’t get to say that to me,” she spat. “ Me. ”

The last word echoed between them like a punch.

“You only ever cared about the Revolution,” she continued, her voice rising. “If Ginny—” her voice faltered at the name, and it tasted bitter on her tongue, “—if Ginny hadn’t said my name, would you even be standing here right now?”

Her nails dug into the fabric of his cloak. “After everything I went through, everything they did, you think I’d just come crawling back to your cause?” Her voice cracked.

She had once hoped that, just once, someone from her family would come for her .

But Garp had his unwavering loyalty to the Marines, a system that built itself on silence and suppression. Even if he didn’t participate in its cruelty, he never stopped it either.

And Dragon… Dragon had the Revolution. Justice on a grand scale. Justice for the world. Never just for her alone.

And Sh—

“I’m not the only one Luffy has,” she said suddenly, voice quiet, a shift in tone.

Her hands loosened, releasing his cloak. She stepped back.

“He found his own family,” she continued, almost fondly. “You didn’t ask, but… he has brothers. Two of them, I guess… One now.”

She smiled softly, sadly.

“I’m just his aunt. And no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I raised him, nothing will compare to the bond he has with those two boys.” Her voice trembled slightly. “He’s going to be a pirate. He’ll leave when he’s seventeen. I can’t stop him.”

She didn’t need to say it, but it hung there anyway.

Just like you. Just like all of you.

Another person she loved, destined to leave her behind.

She remembered all the little moments Luffy had chosen others over her. The times he chased after Sabo and Ace, leaving her behind in the trees. The nights he rambled on and on about Shanks, eyes glowing with hero worship, until she wondered if he even remembered how she used to sing him lullabies when he had nightmares.

And in those moments, the truth settled in like fog.

She wasn’t the person in his life.

But Luffy—oh, Luffy—he was everything in hers.

“I can’t stop him,” She reiterates, clutching own shirt, over her heart, a feeling of heaviness washing through her.  “And I won’t,” 

Oro Jackson

30 years ago

“Hey,” Shanks started, his voice light with curiosity as he stared up at the sky. “If you could do anything in the world… what would it be?”

They were lying on the deck of the Oro Jackson, the ship gently rocking beneath them as it sailed through calm waters. The stars above glittered like a sea of fireflies. Buggy snored a few feet away, limbs sprawled out in a mess of blankets and dramatic snoozing.

“Hm…” she hummed thoughtfully, brows furrowed in concentration. “Anything in the world?”

“Yeah. Anything,” Shanks grinned, rolling onto his side to look at her.

“Then I guess…” she trailed off, eyes locked on the stars above, “Anywhere.”

“‘Anywhere’ isn’t something you do, stupid,” Shanks chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her dark hair with affection.

She pouted and swatted at his hand, but not too hard.

“I don’t care,” she admitted, voice soft. “As long as I’m with you guys, it doesn’t really matter what I do. Anywhere would be enough.”

Her eyes sparkled beneath the starlight, and for a moment, Shanks forgot how to breathe.

“The sea sure is pretty,” she added.

“Yeah…” Shanks murmured, though he wasn’t looking at the sea, his gaze stayed fixed on her, his expression a little more serious now, a little softer.

“It’s pretty alright.”

Blood coated her hands. It dripped from her fingertips, splattered across her boots, and soaked through the once-pristine white shirt she was wearing. Crimson trailed along the cracked cobblestones beneath her feet. 

The air was thick, still, eerie in its silence. There were no screams, no sirens. No approaching Marine warships, no hurried footsteps of panicked bystanders.

Just bodies. Dozens of them. All fallen in grotesque stillness, twisted mid-motion. Among them, one stood out: a man slumped at the base of the desecrated fountain, clad in the unmistakable attire of a Celestial Dragon. His glass helmet was shattered, the remnants glinting like ice around his pale, lifeless face.

The sun hung low, casting long shadows across. It should have been beautiful, serene even, but the bloodied scene turned it into something else. Something wrong. The stench of iron and ozone lingered in the air.

“Boss?” Lucky Roux’s voice cracked through the silence, uncertain. Even he, always the cheerful, carefree one, looked disturbed, his eyes wide as he took in the carnage.

“You guys stand back,” Shanks said quietly, his tone hard in a way rarely heard. He stepped forward, slowly. Deliberately. His crew obeyed without hesitation. “I’ll handle this.” 

She stood at the center of it all, alone, shoulders tight, breath shallow, her face turned slightly toward the dying light of the sky. Her knuckles were scraped raw, arms trembling from restraint more than fatigue.

And yet, the moment she heard his voice—

“Look at this,” Shanks called her name gently, as if afraid he might break her with too much weight behind the word. “What happened here?”

She turned slowly.

Her face, once furrowed with fury or grief, or perhaps both, softened in recognition. That voice. That familiar drawl, steady as the sea and just as endless. It had been years since she'd last heard it, but time did little to dull its comfort.

She dropped the Celestial Dragon’s body like it was nothing more than trash.

Shanks didn’t flinch. He never had, not even when she got like this. But something about the way she looked now, standing ankle-deep in blood with her hands still faintly glowing with Haki, made his heart twist.

No Marines. No Cipher Pol. No Navy dogs on the horizon.

Not even an admiral.

And yet a Celestial Dragon was dead.

“Shanks.”

Her voice was quiet. Hoarse. Almost like it hurt to say it.

Only now did she seem to fully register the chaos surrounding her , the mangled bodies, the blood drying on her clothes. 

She was suddenly hyper aware of every breath she took. But still, her eyes didn’t waver from the red-haired man before her.

That hair.

It reminded her of them . It wasn’t recent that she found out about Shanks, she never knew Shanks came from there. Not until much later. He knew her kin, her pain, and still never told her. That betrayal sat bitter at the base of her throat, but this wasn’t the time.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was still clipped, tight.

“Can’t I greet my favorite Marine?” Shanks offered with a half-hearted grin. It was lighthearted on the surface, but not a single muscle in his body was relaxed. His stance was measured. Ready. Even his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Long time no see, Ms. Marine, how are you?”

He walked forward, and with each step, the air thickened with the pressure of Haki, his own Haoshoku clashing faintly against hers. It wasn’t hostile, but it was undeniable. The ground beneath them groaned as if to bear witness to what could happen if they didn’t tread carefully.

Shanks sensed that some of his newer crew members collapsed behind him on their ship, unable to bear the weight of it.

“You’re leaking too much,” she muttered, not looking back at the chaos behind him.

“Right back at you,” Shanks replied dryly. “Half my men are face-down and we haven’t even talked yet.”

Silence again. Not awkward, just... heavy.

“I didn’t think you were the type to kill a Celestial Dragon out in the open like this,” Shanks said eventually, his voice low, gesturing with a small nod toward the bloodied corpse slumped on the stone pavement.

She didn’t look away.

“Didn’t think I’d go this far, to be honest,” she muttered, her breath still unsteady, “Something snapped, I...”

Around them, the air still hung heavy with the iron scent of blood. It was eerily quiet now, but still she realized that this wasn’t a place to linger.

She finally glanced down at her hands, still faintly glowing with the remnants of her power, slick with crimson. Reality began to settle in. The Celestial Dragon lay still. Dead. The world government wouldn’t let this go unpunished.

“It’s not safe here,” she murmured, wiping her palm against her coat with a grimace. “I have to go.”

Shanks looked at her hands, still bloodstained, trembling with something deeper than exhaustion.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

She stared at him. “What?”

“Not forever,” he clarified. “Just for a while. You need to disappear. At least until the heat dies down.”

“I’m not afraid of this.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gentle. “You were never afraid of anything, were you?”

Shanks smiled sadly. “But you think I want to watch them erase you? You think I haven’t seen what happens to people who stand up to them ?”

She didn’t respond. Her jaw tightened. Her whole body was wound tight, like the wrong word could make her snap.

But Shanks didn’t move closer. He just let the weight of his words hang between them, steady as the sea.

The sea he had chosen over her. 

“Shanks,” She had whispered, loud enough for Shanks to hear, “I’m dying.”

Shanks’ smile faltered.

Just slightly.

Enough for her to notice.

The weight of her words settled like lead between them. The battlefield, the blood, the bodies, suddenly all of it dimmed beneath the gravity of what she had just confessed.

“I’m dying,” she said again, this time with a strange calm. Not a plea. Not even sorrow. Just… fact.

Shanks’ brows pulled together. “What are you talking about?” Shanks’ fists clenched at his sides. “Have you told anyone ?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Of course she hadn’t.

“That’s why you’re doing all this,” he said, looking at the carnage around them. “You think if you go out swinging, it’ll mean something.”

“No," She shook her head, but gave no explanation, "you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

Shanks stepped even closer now. Close enough to see the cracks in her mask, the tremble in her lips, he wasn’t sure if that was from adrenaline or some sort of weakness.

“You always felt too much,” he said softly. “Even back then. That’s what made you beautiful.”

“Don’t even start, Red-haired,” She spat out, not wanting for old feelings to resurface, but she knew why Shanks was saying nonsense, “Why are you even here, go back to your precious Red Force,” 

“I’m not letting you die here,” Shanks said with finality. “Not like this. Not alone. Not in blood.”

Her eyes met his. And for a brief moment, she looked like that girl again. The one who laughed too loud. Who dared to dream, even when dreaming was a crime for herself at that time. 

“Shanks, that’s not why I told you.” She closed her eyes, feeling too much.

Her voice was low, ragged, as her bloodied fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, dragging him closer. Her breath ghosted just shy of his lips, had the moment been different, it might’ve meant something else entirely.

“I’m not your captain,” she said through clenched teeth, each word laced with bitterness. Her grip on him tightened. “I will never be your captain.”

Shanks didn’t speak. He understood. This wasn’t a moment for argument, this was her flare, her fire still burning even as her strength faded. Letting her talk was the only right thing to do.

“Don’t you dare,” she rasped, drawing in a breath that trembled, “don’t you ever dare let my body fall into the hands of those World Government bastards. Do you hear me?”

Shanks’s expression darkened, but he remained silent, his eyes steady on hers.

“Shanks.” Her voice cracked, and something unfamiliar flashed across her eyes, grief, anger, betrayal. Something raw. “As much as you hurt me… as much as you humiliated me…The times where you forced me to even think about leaving Foosha for good, but even then…”

She faltered, her knees buckling. Shanks caught her before she could fall.

“I trust you more than anyone,” she breathed, almost like a confession. “More than Dragon. More than Garp.”

"So that's why I want you to—"

And that was the truth that broke her, Shanks widened his eyes at the revelation she had just spat out.

This woman, the Vice Admiral feared across seas, the sister of the world’s most wanted man, the grandchild of a Marine legend, was strong. She wielded all three forms of Haki. She had once sailed under the Pirate King (Though as a mere stowaway)

She was strong.

Until she wasn’t.

As the tears finally fell, they didn’t fall from weakness, but from the weight of everything she was never allowed to say. It cascaded to her bloodstained cheeks, she faltered.

All that strength, the kind that had carried nations on her back, that had stared down gods and monsters, trembled now in the space between her and Shanks.

“I have no idea how and why you’re here, but I trust you , Shanks,” she whispered again, as if saying it louder would make it too real, too dangerous. “So don’t… don’t let them get their hands on me, don’t you dare let them near me…”

Shanks swallowed hard. Her grip on him was iron, trembling but stubborn.

“I won’t,” he said at last. “Not a damn bone of you will be theirs.”

Her head dropped forward, resting against his shoulder now, the weight of her frame sinking into his. She wasn’t unconscious, but she was tired. Soul-tired.

“You always did talk too much,” he murmured into her hair, voice low, trying to steady her. His coat draped itself around her shoulders like instinct, like memory. “You could’ve just said you wanted me to stay.”

“Shut up,” she muttered weakly, and he almost smiled.

The air around them was heavy still, tainted with blood and silence, but it was no longer suffocating.

Behind him, Lucky Roux and Yasopp kept their distance. Not out of fear. But reverence. They knew better than to interrupt this kind of moment.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” Shanks whispered. “We’ve still got a ship to catch.”

She let out a broken chuckle.

“I just…” she rasped, a trail of blood leaving past her lips, trembling with every word she had forcefully spat out. “Wished I could see Luffy, just one last time.”

And just like that, Shanks’ composure cracked. Just for a second.

Because he knew he wouldn't be able to fulfill her wish.

And so, without another word, he held her tighter. As if that could stop the inevitable. As if memory and history and pain could hold her here.

And for the first time in a long, long while—

Contrary to popular belief, Garp was not a failure. Two of his grandsons might’ve been pirates, the (currently unknown) third grandson and his son were in a group that opposed the World Government directly—more so, his son happened to be the leader of said notorious group—but Garp was not a failure, this was a story far before three of his grandchildren venture the world, a story of Garp’s daughter who happened to be a Vice Admiral.

She was the only person who survived Garp’s harsh beatings and still went to become a Marine, rose up the ranks and became a Vice Admiral in a short amount of time, without the help of Garp’s notorious name. She had been raised under Garp’s strict yet strangely affectionate hand, harsh, but his fist of love, in her mind, was loving indeed. Unlike Garp, who happened to be the Hero of the Marines, a name that makes few pirates quiver in fear, she had a slightly different job description other than the normal Marine duty.

She was Luffy’s caretaker. (Aunty!)

Garp had left him in her care more often than not, dropping him off in Dawn Island with nothing but his usual booming laughter and a dismissive wave. It had been her arms that carried him when he scraped his knees, her scolding that rang in his ears when he got into trouble. She had been the one to ensure he ate proper meals, even when he whined about wanting meat and nothing else. She had been the one to sit by the shore, watching him grin at the horizon and dream of an adventure she could not give him.

The first time in years, she heard of Shanks through her own nephew, Luffy, she didn’t really get to see him.

Marines duties mean that she couldn’t be with Luffy every day, but when she got back to Foosha Village, Luffy excitedly told her of a Red-haired pirate named Shanks who was a super cool pirate and went on super cool adventures.

(She should teach him more vocabulary)

Luffy was still animatedly telling her about the pirate he had encountered, though her thoughts drifted, carried by the rhythm of the waves, back to a time when things had been simpler—not easier, but simpler. Before the weight of a uniform, before duty carved its place into her bones, before she had to choose what kind of person she would become.

A tune played in her mind, faint but familiar, and without thinking, she hummed along. The melody belonged to the sea. It was a song of open horizons, of laughter caught in the wind, of voices raised against the vast blue.

She was lost back then, stranded in a ship her father sought for, but somehow, for the first time, she felt like she belonged.

A beaming face flashed through her mind—grinning, untamed, golden like the sun. A voice, warm as sunlight on wood, reached across the years.

"You’re free to join me, kid!"

The memory struck like a wave, crashing over her before she could brace herself.

She could still hear the distant sound of boots against timber, the rustling of an old coat caught in the wind. She could still feel the way the ship had rocked beneath her feet—not just any ship. His ship.

Her fingers twitched, as if they still remembered the worn grooves of the railing she used to lean against, watching the horizon stretch endlessly before her.

She exhaled sharply, dragging herself back to the present.

"That was a lifetime ago."

And yet, no matter how much time passed, no matter how deep she buried it, the ocean never forgot. It carried whispers of the past in every crashing wave, every shifting tide.

“What was that, Aunty?” Luffy’s grin still wide, not a speck of annoyance or any negative emotions from being interrupted.

“No, nothing.” She dismissed, “What were you saying, Lu?”

–

The next time the Red-Haired Pirates docked in Foosha Village, she had been there, watching from a distance with suspicion. The village hadn’t changed much—still quiet, still warm, still untouched by the chaos of the wider world. But she had changed, and so had he.

She leaned against the thick trunk of a tree, arms crossed, her sharp gaze following the familiar ship as it bobbed gently in the harbor. The villagers greeted the pirates with ease, laughing as they carried barrels of supplies toward the shore. They trusted Shanks and his men. They always had.

But trust was a fragile thing.

She knew who they were. She knew their captain quite well—perhaps too well. Once upon a time, before either of them had carved out their own paths, she had sailed alongside him. Before they had their own crews, before his captain fell, before she understood the weight of what it meant to choose a side.

And she had chosen.

She knew what pirates stood for—what they embodied. Freedom, recklessness, defiance. Chaos incarnate. And yet, Shanks had never seemed bound by the ugliness of the title. He carried it differently, with an ease that was as frustrating as it was dangerous.

So when he turned and met her gaze across the clearing, when he grinned like the years between them hadn’t built walls of duty and ideology, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to scowl or sigh.

He approached with the same unhurried confidence he had always possessed, hands loose at his sides, his red coat draped over one shoulder. The years had deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes, but the amusement in them remained the same.

“You’re a Marine now, huh?” His voice was warm, teasing, laced with that infuriating sense of knowing. “Never thought I’d see the day where the snot-nosed brat turned into someone all high and mighty.”

She scoffed, shifting her weight, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a real reaction. “Never thought I’d see the short kid with a crew of his own.”

That made him laugh—a real, full-bodied laugh, the kind that rang through the air and made the villagers glance their way with knowing smiles. He hadn’t changed. Not really.

But she had.

And they both knew it.

Still, for a fleeting moment, standing there in the dappled sunlight with the sound of the waves in the distance, she almost let herself believe that things were still simple.

Almost.

–

She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms as she regarded the red-haired pirate. He didn’t understand. Not really. He saw Luffy’s freedom, his dream, and admired it—but he hadn’t been the one to watch over him, to worry constantly, to fear the day Luffy would sail away and never come back. the sea, the undeniable will that burned in his chest, the same fire she had tried so hard to protect him from.

"Heard you’ve been telling Luffy stuff," she muttered, voice lower, as if saying it too loudly would make it real. "He's just a kid."

Shanks only smiled, something knowing behind his eyes. "So was I. So were you."

She scowled at him, unimpressed. "That’s not the same."

He chuckled, easy and carefree, shifting the weight of his coat over his shoulders. "Maybe not. But you know as well as I do—you can’t control him. Not anymore."

She hated that he was right.

Luffy bounced between them, looking between their tense exchange with wide, curious eyes. "Wait, wait, wait—you two know each other?"

Shanks grinned down at him. "Something like that."

"Aunty, you know Shanks?!" Luffy gasped, as if the very thought was unbelievable.

Shanks barked out a laugh, slinging an arm around her shoulder in the same way he used to when they were kids—like it was nothing, like there weren’t years between them, like the world hadn’t drawn lines in the sand between them.

"Know me?" Shanks grinned wide, pulling her into his side despite her very pointed attempt to shove him off. "Kid, your aunty used to follow me around like a lost puppy."

Her fist collided with his stomach before he even finished his sentence.

"Ow—!"

Luffy laughed wildly, eyes shining. "Really?!!"

"No!" she snapped at the same time Shanks smugly drawled, "Maybe."

She groaned, stepping away before she lost any more of her sanity. It was infuriating how easily he weaved himself into her life again, as if the years apart didn’t matter, as if they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the law.

Shanks rubbed his stomach where she’d punched him, grinning despite himself. "Still got that right hook, huh?"

She shot him a glare that would have made lesser men tremble. "And I'll use it again with Haki if you keep talking."

His laughter followed her as she walked away, but she ignored it, ignored the warmth in her chest, and ignored the fact that Shanks had never really left her thoughts all these years.

And deep down, she knew he never would.

–

The next time the Red-Haired Pirates docked, she didn’t expect to see Shanks. At least, not really. She heard the usual buzz from the villagers—excited chatter, playful groans about the ruckus his crew always brought—but she’d learned to ignore it. She had work to do, and a certain red-haired pirate was the last thing she needed occupying her thoughts.

Yet, here he was.

Standing in front of her, grinning like a fool, struggling to balance—of all things—a fully grown tangerine tree in his arms.

The bush was far bigger than him, its leafy branches swaying as he adjusted his grip. She blinked, staring at him, a little exasperated, a little dumbfounded. What was he even doing?

Shanks tilted his head, peering around the tangle of branches just to get a better look at her, and when he called her name—just like that, so easy, so familiar—her heart did something funny.

A flutter. A hesitation. A warmth she refused to acknowledge.

Maybe she hadn’t let go of her feelings from back then.

"Look what I found," he said, his voice as bright as the sea breeze, thick with amusement. "A fully grown tangerine tree, your favorite!"

Her mouth opened—then closed. She stared at the tree, the vibrant, ripe fruit hanging lazily from its branches. Her favorite. A passing remark she’d made more than a decade ago, back when she was still young, still trying to figure out who she was in the grand scheme of things. And he remembered.

Of course, he did.

She crossed her arms, raising a brow. "Shanks, why—"

"Don’t worry, I stole it fair and square," he interrupted, far too pleased with himself.

She sighed, dragging a hand down her face. "That’s not—That’s not better."

He laughed, shifting the tree in his arms like some grand treasure, completely unbothered. Just like always.

And just like always, she felt herself slipping—falling into the space where Shanks wasn’t just a pirate, where the weight of their titles, their paths, didn’t matter.

Maybe, just for a second, she let herself forget.

“Aunty!” Luffy excitedly shouted, something he’d do when seeing the red haired pirate, “What’s that?” He circled around the tangerine tree in awe, Dawn Island wasn’t a suitable island for tangerine trees, they need well drained and a slightly acidic soil to thrive, she didn’t not have the privilege to play gardener in her free time.

“It’s a tangerine tree,” She offered Luffy her lap as she took a tangerine, peeling it off for him, “It’s my favorite,” Her gaze softened and she saw Luffy complained about the tangerine being sour.

Shanks looks at the duo with warmth, he didn’t realize there would be a day where the brute kid he once knew could be a soft mother figure to a rambunctious boy, but he realized that his heart did something funny.

Maybe it was just because the scene in front of him was endearing.

Nothing more.

–

The sun hung low over Foosha Village, casting golden light over the docks where the Red-Haired Pirates were loading up supplies onto the Red Force. The scent of salt and fresh fruit lingered in the air, mixing with the easy laughter of pirates enjoying their last moments on land.

Mayor Wood Slap stood with his arms crossed, watching the familiar sight of Shanks and his crew preparing to leave once again. He let out a huff, shaking his head.

"Shanks has been here for a while, hasn’t he?" the mayor muttered, eyeing the pirate captain, who was laughing at something Luffy had said.

Beside him, she stood with her hands tucked into her coat pockets, watching the scene unfold.

"Too long," she admitted, though her voice lacked any real bite.

Mayor Wood Slap glanced at her and sighed.n

“You’ve also been her a little too long, Ms. Vice Admiral,” The Mayor said with a slight edge, her title being used for teasing. “Might as well just get married and move in!”

She grimaced, but the thought itself didn’t disgust her, just the realization that, yes, she has been here quite a while, it seemed she couldn’t part away from Dawn Island, not when Shanks is here and willing to stay for more than a few weeks.

"Stop this Marine foolishness, your father is enough of a Marine for this whole village!"

She didn’t react at first, simply watching as Luffy clung to Shanks' arm, pouting about something. The pirate ruffled the boy’s hair with a lopsided grin, and for a moment, it almost looked… normal. Like a family.

She exhaled through her nose. "You know I can't do that." A small smile tugged at her lips, finding amusement at the Mayor’s statement.

Makino, wiping her hands on her apron, leaned against the wooden railing with a warm smile. "Don’t you ever want to settle down, Mrs. Marine-chan?" she teased, her tone lighthearted.

She snorted at the nickname but didn’t argue.

"Yeah," she admitted, her gaze softening as it drifted to Luffy, who was now sitting cross-legged on a barrel, animatedly telling Shanks something about travelling through the seas, wanting to become a pirate. His eyes sparkled with excitement, his hands moving wildly as he spoke.

"I’d want that, actually."

Makino tilted her head. "Then why don’t you?"

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Because people like me don’t get that kind of life."

Mayor Wood Slap huffed again, shaking his head. "You sound just like your father."

She didn’t respond. Instead, she just kept watching Luffy, the boy who would eventually chase after the sea just like Shanks.

Just like all the things she couldn’t hold onto.

–

Little did she know, Shanks heard everything

Shanks hadn’t meant to listen. Not really. He’d been overseeing his crew, hands resting easily on his belt, exchanging laughs with Benn and Yasopp while making sure the men loaded the last of their supplies onto the Red Force. But her voice—steady, thoughtful—cut through the casual chatter, anchoring his attention before he even realized it.

"Yeah. I’d want that, actually."

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t turn. Just stood there, gaze fixed ahead, as if the words hadn’t settled under his skin like a slow-burning ember. It wasn’t what she said—it was the way she said it. Soft, sure. Not a fleeting thought, not an empty remark. A truth she might not have meant for anyone to hear.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of her—not the Marine, not the soldier, but the girl who once ran barefoot through The Oro Jackson, who had always been just a little too stubborn, a little too untouchable. And yet, there she was, looking at the kid with an expression he couldn’t really decipher.

Shanks exhaled, a slow chuckle forming at the back of his throat before he swallowed it down. He didn’t tease. Didn’t joke. Didn’t let the thought linger longer than it should.

Instead, he turned back to his crew, grinning as if nothing had changed. Because maybe nothing had. Or maybe, years down the line, when their paths crossed again, he’d remember this moment—not because of what she’d said, but because of the way, for the first time, he’d wondered what it might mean if she really meant it.

–

And she meant it

-

“So,” His Firstmate drawled out, “You knew our captain since back then?” He nonchalantly offered her a cigarette which she happily took, rarely did she ever do so, but her stress has been piling up, with The Red-Haired pirates docking for a while, on top of Luffy’s claim of wanting to become Pirate King, and Marine duties.

She stared at the infamous Benn Beckman, she noted that she was attractive, an air of authority surrounding him.

“Was lost once, sailed for a while,” She breathed in the cigarette, blowing out the smoke, her tense body relaxed slightly, the nicotine taking effect.

Beckman grinned.

“How did that go?”

–

Gol D. Roger had a habit of picking up strays. Shanks and Buggy were proof of that. But this? This was something else entirely.

For months now, they’d had an extra pair of hands on the ship—small, quick, and strangely competent for a kid. No one really questioned where she came from. She pulled her weight, didn’t cause trouble (well, no more than Buggy and Shanks, which was already the bare minimum because of their pirate apprentice status), and had a sharp tongue that fit right in with the rest of the crew.

She didn’t even flinch at the chaos that was the Oro Jackson, which made Roger think she belonged here.

Shanks had unofficially adopted her as his tiny sparring partner. Buggy swore up and down that she was a cursed demon child because she always managed to mess with him without getting caught. Scopper Gaban taught her how to tie proper knots, Rayleigh made sure she didn’t get herself killed, and even Roger himself had taken a liking to the little menace.

She was a pirate alright.

–

Being one of the three kids in the infamous pirate ship, Oro Jackson, meant you had to fight for good sleeping spots. The older you get, the more you think that sleep is just sleep, but as someone with youth, anything could be made a competition, and that includes getting the best sleeping spot in the ship.

And somehow, the best spot had been claimed by Buggy.

"This is my bed," Buggy said, sprawled across the best hammock in the entire ship. "Go find your own."

She frowned and crossed her arms, annoyed at the clown’s behavior. "But you’re always sleeping there!"

"No." Buggy turned to her. "And especially not you. You're tiny. You'll kick me off in your sleep." He regretted saying that, despite being younger, she was actually a bit taller than Shanks and Buggy due to her lineage, the men in her family stood at least 8’ tall, it would be weird if she were any shorter. So at a young age, she was already much taller than the two boys.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "You literally fall off all the time by yourself."

Buggy scowled. "That is not the point."

Shanks smirked. "Guess we'll have to settle this like pirates."

Buggy paled. "Wait—"

It became a war.

Buggy used his Chop-Chop powers to keep them away. Shanks with both of his swords, and the little stowaway with her Haki coated hands.

Roger and Rayleigh watched in amusement from the other side of the deck.

"Should we stop them?" Rayleigh asked, ready to teach the kids a lesson.

"Nah," Roger chuckled, looking at the trio weirdly, yet slightly amused. "This is the most fun I've had all week.

“Though I am curious about how the girl is already using armament haki very well.” Roger questioned, her stance also very familiar, but he didn’t think too much about it, maybe it was just a fleeting thought, nothing of importance.

Eventually, nobody won.

By the time the sky was dead at night, Buggy, Shanks, and the girl were all tangled up in one blanket, snoring. Roger grinned and draped another blanket over them, not wanting to move them from above the ship as he made his way inside towards the most comfortable hammock Buggy had left.

Oro Jackson itself was filled with middle aged men, so snoring was always going to be an issue, but she grew up with the manliest of men, his snoring rivaled that of a lion’s roar, yet she was awake, unwilling to sleep due to said noises.

She saw Shanks and Buggy curled up on the blanket placed on top of them. She wriggled her way out as she saw the beautiful stars in the night sky. Her movement caused another person in the trio to move. Shanks has awakened.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

–

The sea was calm that night, the Oro Jackson rocking gently as the waves lapped against its hull. Most of the crew was asleep, save for a few night watchmen and the two smallest members of the ship—Shanks and her—perched up on the deck, legs dangling over the edge.

Shanks had dragged a blanket out and wrapped it around them both, the night air cool against their skin. The stars above stretched endlessly, shimmering like scattered treasure.

"Ever think about the future?" Shanks asked, breaking the quiet.

She blinked, turning to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Shanks leaned back on his arms, looking up at the sky. "Like… where we'll go. What we’ll do. Y’know, after all this."

She frowned. "You’re not leaving, are you?"

“Aren’t you?” Shanks laughed. "Nah, not yet. I just—" He hesitated, then sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I dunno. I like being here. I love the crew. But I also wonder… will I ever have my own ship? My own adventure?"

She was quiet for a moment. Then, she nudged him with her shoulder. "You’d be a good captain."

Shanks turned to her, eyes wide. "You think so?"

She nodded. "You’re annoying, but people like you. You’re good at making things fun. And… you care. That’s important."

Shanks felt his face heat up, but he grinned. "You’d be on my crew, right?"

She hesitated, and for the first time that night, Shanks noticed something different in her expression. A shadow of something unspoken.

"...Eh."

Shanks frowned. "Why not?"

She picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "I don’t belong here." It suddenly dawned at her that she left something big at home, despite loving the sea, loving the adventures, it is not the life she was meant to have, she wasn’t meant to have freedom, she was meant to follow rules, and maybe then, she can grant people who are treated unjust by the system freedom, a heavy thought in her young mind.

Shanks tilted his head. "Because of… where you came from?" He still didn’t know anything about her past, though he had his assumptions, he rather not voice it out loud to avoid saying something wrong.

She didn’t answer, but the way her fingers tightened around the fabric said enough.

Shanks stayed quiet for a moment, then scooted a little closer. "You know, even if you don’t stay, that doesn’t mean we stop being family."

She looked up at him. "You really think that?"

He grinned. "Duh. We’re Shanks, Buggy, and," He puffed out his chest dramatically, mentioning your name last "Unstoppable. The best trio on the Oro Jackson!"

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "That’s not even true. We’re not even the second best." She thought of the grinning captain with his right and left hand. Despite not ever seeing them fight, she could feel the potential that they oozed out.

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "...You’re really dumb, y’know that?"

"Doesn’t matter," Shanks said, smiling softer now. "We’re still us."

"Yeah, yeah." Shanks grinned, resting his head against hers. "But you’re stuck with me anyway."

She never did interact with kids her age, she was always training, a designated path of her’s is already forged, but she saw Shanks, he had this captivating pull, she saw him as the sun. Buggy, too.

“Forced to, actually,” She giggled, her eyes never leaving the older boy, “It was a coincidence that I’m even here in the first place,”

“Then it’s the best coincidence I had in a while,” Shanks gave her a thumbs up, a dumb grin on his face.

They were the first friends she ever had (and will have)

Her heart fluttered as she took one last look at the red hair, before laying her head on his shoulder, resting.

And under the endless stretch of stars, with the ocean rocking beneath them, Buggy’s snoring filling the air, she decided—maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing.

–

The truth came out in the stupidest way possible.

–

One day, while the Oro Jackson was docked at a quiet island, a Marine ship showed up on the horizon. Normally, this wasn’t an issue—Roger and his crew had ways of avoiding unnecessary fights. But the moment the girl spotted the Marine sails, she groaned, a slight fear in the edge of her voice.

"Ugh,” She started sweating again, she grabbed the back of Roger’s coat, seemingly trying to hide herself from the Marine ship.

Roger quirked a brow. "Afraid of some Marines, lass?” A boisterous laugh escaped his lips, his hand made its way to her back, an act to try and reassure her.

"No." She let go of the captain’s coat and hid behind a crate, taking a peek to get a better look, then muttered, "Just that ship in general.."

Rayleigh narrowed his eyes. "Who’s ship?"

"M-My old man—"

And then the Marine ship got close enough for them to see the massive dog-headed figure standing at the bow.

Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp.

Roger and his entire crew froze, a dumbfounded gaze as they all looked back and forth towards the Marine ship coming at them with steady acceleration and the stowaway who’s been here for months hiding behind a crate.

The girl casually chomped her apple.

"Roger."

"I see him."

"Roger, that’s—"

"I see him, Rayleigh."

Roger whipped around, eyes bulging at the girl who’s currently eating her apple, his apple. "YOUR OLD MAN IS GARP?!" He shouted out, followed by a hearty laugh, it made sense now, why she blended well with the crew, her talent in using armament, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had Conquerors Haki, he knew from the first day he laid eyes on her, she had potential.

"Yup."

"THE GARP?!"

"Uh-huh. . ."

Roger let out a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a yell. The entire crew was staring in awe and slight dumbfoundedness, Buggy had fainted, and Shanks looked like he was reconsidering his life choices.

And then, from the Marine ship, Garp’s unmistakable voice boomed over the waves—

"ROGER, YOU DAMN BASTARD! I HEARD YOU HAVE MY DAUGHTER?!"

The girl blinked. "Huh. Guess he is mad."

And that was how Gol D. Roger learned that he had accidentally kidnapped Monkey D. Garp’s daughter.

–

“If he has you as his scary aunt,” Her face grimaced as Shanks drawled out, “His grandpa must be. . .”

“Exactly,” She crossed her arms, unamused by Luffy’s previous exclamation. “I don’t need you telling Luffy nonsense, he’d kill me.”

Shanks laughed, deep and genuine. “He’s got a good heart. You can’t cage a spirit like his.”

She had wanted to argue, to tell him that it was her responsibility to keep Luffy safe, that she had spent years trying to drill sense into him. But deep down, she knew it was a losing battle. Shanks saw the same thing in Luffy that she did—the unstoppable pull of the sea, the inevitable chase for freedom.

And so, she had let it happen. She had watched as Luffy declared his dream to be Pirate King, as he stared up at Shanks with admiration in his eyes. And when Shanks left, she had seen the fire in Luffy’s gaze burn brighter than ever before. Being a Marine was out the window, he was forging his path towards piracy, a dangerous path indeed.

She thinks of his brother—of sharp eyes and a sharper mind, of words laced with both warning and disappointment.

"You’re a fool," he had told her once, standing in the dim glow of a tavern, his voice steady but not unkind. "A cog in a machine that will destroy us. You see it, don’t you? You know what the Marines truly are."

She had known.

She had known since she was old enough to understand what justice really meant—or rather, what it was made to mean. She had seen the way it bent under power, how it served those who wrote the rules, how it crushed those who dared to exist outside its grip. She had watched people dear to her die for the system, a certain kind hearted captain who knew too much for his own good flashed in her mind.

And still, she had stayed.

"Come with me," he had said, offering something she wasn’t sure she deserved. "Fight for something real. We could change this world."

But she had looked at the boy sleeping soundly in the next room, his tiny hands curled into fists even in sleep, and she had made her choice.

"Luffy would be lonely."

Dragon had exhaled then, slow and measured, studying her like he was trying to understand. And maybe, just maybe, for all his ideals and his iron resolve, he had never truly known what it meant to choose family over revolution.

"A child is their parents’ weak spot," he had murmured, almost to himself.

She had watched him turn away, just like he always did. Just like his father always did.

She hated that about Garp—the way he was a Marine first, a warrior of justice before he was ever a father. She hated that he had passed that burden onto his son, that he had shaped him into someone who believed he had to leave to protect them.

And yet, for all his warnings, she saw the way Dragon’s shoulders had eased, just slightly, when she refused his offer.

Maybe, despite everything, some small part of him was relieved that Luffy wouldn’t be left alone.

Her loving gaze on her nephew as she ruffled her hair, Luffy’s smile lighting up her melancholic heart. Her loving gaze on her nephew as she ruffled her hair, Luffy’s smile lighting up her melancholic heart. His hands went straight for the newly laid straw hat on his head.

–

The wind carried the scent of salt and distant storms, rustling through the palm trees lining the shore. The Red Force bobbed gently on the edge of the islands, its red sails catching the golden light of the setting sun. The village was quiet now, the festivities long over, leaving only the sound of waves lapping at the dock.

The Red haired pirates had left that morning, why was the ship still here? Caved away for nobody to see?

She stood at the edge of the wooden planks, hands buried in her coat pockets, watching the pirates load the last of their supplies. She should have left already—should have turned around and walked away before this moment could happen.

But she hadn’t.

Because this was it.

The end of something she couldn’t quite name.

She had always known, deep down, that Shanks was never hers. He was never anyone’s, not really. He belonged to the sea, to the vastness of adventure, to the never-ending horizon that called him away, again and again.

And she? She belonged to something far less free.

“Not even gonna say goodbye?”

She tensed at the voice, the lazy amusement in it, the familiarity that had settled into her bones over the years.

Shanks stood beside her now, close enough that the fabric of his coat brushed against her sleeve. He wasn’t wearing it properly, of course, just draped over one shoulder like he always did. His hair was tousled from the wind, and his lips curled in that lopsided, careless smile of his.

She exhaled slowly. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

He hummed. “That cold, huh?”

She didn’t answer.

For a moment, they just stood there, side by side, watching as the crew finished their preparations. The sun dipped lower, casting everything in warm orange hues, painting the water in gold and crimson.

“I heard what you told Luffy,” she said eventually, voice even, careful.

Shanks scratched the back of his head. “Ah. That.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You really didn’t think about it at all, did you?”

–

The sun was setting over Foosha Village, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. The Red-Haired Pirates were finishing their preparations to set sail permanently the next morning. They docked here for almost a year, enough to forge meaningful relationships as most of the village had already said their goodbyes, sad that they were finally leaving.

Luffy, however, was still trailing after Shanks, asking endless questions as they sat outside the bar.

"Shanks," Luffy started, legs swinging over the edge of the stool he was sitting on. "Are you and Aunty together?"

Shanks, in the middle of sipping his drink, choked. He coughed violently, thumping his chest as some of the crew nearby turned to look in amusement.

"The hell, Luffy? Where’d you get that idea?" Shanks wheezed, wiping his mouth.

Luffy tilted his head. "Well, Old Man Wood Slap is with the fruit lady. They're always together, so I thought maybe you and her were the same!"

Shanks stared. Then, his face twisted like he'd just bitten into the sourest lemon on the planet.

"NO. No way. Never." He waved his hands frantically. "I don't see her like that at all!"

Luffy blinked. "Huh. Why not?"

Shanks had a teasing grin, his eyes filled with mischief. "Because she’s… you know." He gestured vaguely. "Her. She’s all serious and scary and way too Marine-y." He listed reasons he knew weren’t actual reasons. “Don’t you agree?”

"She’s not that scary," Luffy argued. “Not compared to Gramps, at least!” Luffy had always been much more afraid of Grandpa Garp’s fist of love, despite his aunt saying that it wasn’t even that bad, but what does she know!

"She lectures me more than Beckmann does!" Shanks shot back. "I’d rather fight a Sea King than deal with that for the rest of my life." A teasing laugh escaped his lips, despite the claim he had just made, his eyes were betraying him, a sense of endearment, or maybe more? Luffy, despite being a child, had always had high emotional intelligence, he felt something was off, but he couldn’t decipher it, or didn’t care enough to try.

Luffy hummed, deep in thought, before nodding. "Okay." Then he hopped off the stool and ran off.

Shanks frowned. "...Why do I feel like I just got set up?"

Later that night, she was helping Makino close up the bar when Luffy wandered in.

"Hey," he greeted, climbing up onto a stool. Luffy was here, it was late at night, it seemed he smelled a bit of smoke and maybe booze, indicating he had been with the Red Haired Pirates again. She wasn’t against the idea, at this point, she knew he’d end up a pirate, but God forbid Luffy turning into a drunkard like Shanks.

She raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn’t you be in bed?"

"Nah." Luffy rested his chin on the counter. "Hey, I asked Shanks if you guys were like Old Man Wood Slap and the fruit lady."

She froze, nearly dropping the glass she was holding. Slowly, she turned to look at him. She knew what that meant, Mayor Wood Slap was married to Mary, the old lady selling fruits near the dock, she shuddered at Luffy’s implications. "...You did what?"

"Yeah," Luffy continued, completely unfazed. "He said 'NO WAY NEVER' and that you're too scary."

She blinked. Then, after a long pause, she sighed. She didn’t know why she even thought that there would be a different answer to that.

"...Ah," she murmured, placing the glass down carefully. "I knew it."

Luffy tilted his head. "You don’t care?" He thought something was off, he could’ve sworn he saw something in both her and Shanks! He could’ve had such a cool uncle if they got together! But Luffy was young, he wasn’t aware of romance, let alone the burden romance could bring.

She gave him a small, tired smile. "I never expected anything else."

Luffy watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Okay." He didn’t care a lot, as long as Shanks is still here!

Then, as if nothing had happened, he yawned and stretched. "I’m gonna go bug Shanks before bed!"

And just like that, he ran out the door, leaving her standing there, staring at the counter with an odd mix of relief and something she couldn't quite name.

–

His grin faltered—just a little.

She didn’t need an answer.

Instead, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I was always temporary to you, wasn’t I?”

Shanks looked at her then, really looked at her, his expression unreadable for once.

“You’re wrong,” he murmured, his finger lightly gracing her cheeks.

She turned to face him fully, arms crossed. “Am I?”

His gaze dropped slightly, almost thoughtful. “I don’t hold onto things, you know that.” He paused. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t matter.”

Her chest tightened, a dull ache settling beneath her ribs.

It wasn’t enough. It has never been enough, they will all leave her, sooner or later. She was never enough for the people she knew, she could never make them stay.

It was the truth.

She nodded, more to herself than to him. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence stretched between them. Neither of them moved. The wind picked up slightly, ruffling his hair, making the loose ends of his coat flutter.

Finally, he sighed, shaking his head with a small, rueful smile. “Next time we meet,” he said, voice light but firm, “it’ll be out there.” He tilted his head toward the horizon, where the sky met the sea in endless possibility. “No more villages. No more land.”

She held his gaze.

And for a brief, fleeting second, she let herself wonder.

If they had met differently, if they had been different people—if the world had allowed them something more than fleeting moments and unfinished goodbyes.

But that wasn’t their story. It never had been.

She took a slow step back, the space between them stretching, shifting.

“Goodbye, Shanks.”

His smile was small this time. Not careless, not teasing. Just there.

“See you at sea.”

And then, before she could say anything else, before she could second-guess herself, she turned and walked away.

She didn’t look back.

Because if she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep walking.

–

Maybe one day,

–

Shanks was a man of the sea—untamed, unmoored, a wandering tide that kissed the shore only to slip away with the next current. No harbor could hold him, no anchor could keep him still. He was the wind in full sails, the endless horizon, a fleeting echo of laughter carried away by the waves. To love him was to love the ocean itself—beautiful, boundless, and never truly yours to keep.

She learned that the hard way.

–

Maybe, in another life—on a different shore, under a different sky—things would have ended differently. Maybe if she had chosen a different path, if she had let go of duty, of loyalty to a system that never truly deserved her, she could have stood beside him on the deck of his ship instead of watching him disappear into the horizon. Maybe, just maybe, there was a version of their story where she wasn’t left behind. But the sea didn’t wait for those who hesitated, and neither did fate.

Years later, long after the tides had swept away her footprints.

The Thousand Sunny swayed gently with the waves, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The crew was gathered on the deck, laughter spilling into the open air, plates clattering as Sanji dished out dinner. It was a good night—warm, peaceful, the kind that made the world feel small and safe, if only for a while.

Luffy plopped down near the tangerine tree, balancing his plate on his knees. He grinned as he shoved an entire piece of meat into his mouth, cheeks puffing out like a squirrel. “Mmm! This is so good, Sanji!” he declared, voice muffled.

Sanji scoffed, flicking a cigarette between his fingers. “Of course it is, dumbass.”

Nami sighed, adjusting her seat against the mast. “At least swallow before you talk, Luffy. You’re a captain, not a wild animal.”

Luffy just laughed, smacking his hands against his thighs. “Hey, hey! Did I ever tell you guys about someone I knew who had a tree like this?” He gestured vaguely at Nami’s tangerines, his grin never wavering.

Zoro raised a brow. “What, another person you mooched food from?”

“Oi! That’s not the point!” Luffy huffed before breaking into another laugh. “She had a tree kinda like this..” He leaned back on his palms, gazing at the swaying leaves. “It was behind Mayor Wood Slap’s backyard! But it died because she couldn’t take care of it—” he snorted.

Usopp chuckled. “Sounds a lot like someone I know….”

“Yeah!” Luffy grinned wider, rocking on his heels. “She was real serious, too. Always scolding me, always looking all grumpy—but she was strong.” His eyes sparkled with something almost childlike as he spoke. “I bet if she saw me now, she’d be like, ‘Luffy, you’re such an idiot for making it this far.’”

Brook laughed, tapping his cane against the deck. “She sounds quite formidable! Where is she now?”

Luffy paused for just a fraction of a second. It was barely noticeable.

Then he shrugged, still grinning. “Dunno.”

The conversation moved on—Franky started talking about a new modification for the Sunny, Usopp began spinning a ridiculous story, and Chopper was giggling between bites of food. The laughter carried into the open air, warmth settling over them like a thick summer breeze.

Luffy stayed where he was, still looking at the tree, his smile never faltering.

Not once did he say her name.

Not once did he tell them she was gone.

Because if he did, then maybe it would make it real. And Luffy didn’t like thinking about things like that.