A slender fingertip traced the symbol, the featherlight caress leaving a pebbling of goosebumps in its wake despite the warm steam from the bath. Her head was resting on his chest, her small frame seated astride his hips, but then the bath barely fit him as it was.

He watched her tracing the tattoo, following the intersecting lines between the four outer points, and the circle enclosing them. And it wasn’t the first time she’d seen it―given how many times she’d seen him naked in the frankly horny week that had followed that first time behind the counter of her bar, Shanks would have been surprised if she’d missed it―but it was the first time she’d brought it up.

Those bottomless eyes lifted from the tattoo to his, the thick fan of her lashes swept upwards in a questioning look, and he realised belatedly that he hadn’t answered.

“Nothing specific,” he lied, his smile easing its path along his voice, not so much as a shiver in it to betray the blatant untruth for what it was. “Saw it in the tattoo parlor and thought it looked cool. Ben doesn't agree, but then it’s not like his tattoo is any cooler.”

The teasing purse of that soft mouth said she wasn’t fully convinced that’s all there was to it, but she didn’t pry, her lashes fanning down as she touched her fingertip to the centre point of the tattoo, and he felt a clenching in his gut, but then even if there was a lot he hadn’t told her about his life before coming here, omitting parts of the truth and lying to her face were two completely different things, and this was the first time Shanks had done the latter.

He was glad she was focused on the tattoo then, because the shame rising in his throat was so great that for a brief second, he'd lost control of his expression, before he reined it back in, his usual ease falling into place, like a second skin.

“How old were you when you got it?” Makino asked then. She was still tracing the tattoo, her touch lingering, and in a way that made him acutely aware of its presence.

He resisted the urge to shrug off the sensation, clenching his fingers until it passed, before spreading his palm over the top of her head where it lay on his chest, her short hair damp from the bath. The setting sun reaching into his cabin compelled the sea glass to the surface, glimpsed between the sable tresses slipping through his fingers where he played with it.

“Early twenties,” Shanks said, which was true, but then he added, “My memory of the event is a little blurry. There was a lot of sake involved.”

Another lie, and another truth, entwined like a sailor's knot until even he struggled to tell them apart. But he had gotten stupidly drunk that day, although it had been after getting the tattoo, not before, as though if he just poured enough sake down his throat, he could forget what he was doing. What he’d had to do.

Of course, he'd never forgotten, not that day, or any of the days that had followed, that time in his life remembered with excruciating clarity, but then he'd brought back more reminders than the one inked on his arm.

“One of my many youthful indiscretions,” he continued, although didn’t know if it was a lie or a truth this time, but then it might be years until he knew the answer, and whether or not he'd made the right decisions.

That little smile wanted to know the whole story. And he wished then that it could have been as simple as a foolish young captain in a tattoo parlor, sailing three sheets to the wind and with a whole crew cheering him on.

“The first time I saw it, I thought it might be a kind of compass,” Makino said, tracing the circular pattern.

Shanks didn’t answer, playing with her hair, although had to curl his fingers to keep them from shaking, and was glad she was focused on the tattoo.

And if only it had been a compass―a sailor's symbol of good luck, pointing the way home, but if his tattoo pointed to anything, it was a place that had never been home, and a time he'd much rather forget.

He was suddenly grateful that she didn’t understand its significance, but then outside the Holy Land, there were few who'd recognise it for what it was, and what it made him―or had made him, anyway, although he could run as far as he wanted, but it didn’t change what he was, at least in the eyes of his old man.

“Shanks?”

He felt her sit up a bit, the water sloshing against the sides of the bath, and watched the paths it took down her body, silver rivulets where it ran from the horizon of her collarbones, between the pert mounds of her breasts to the dip of her waist, cupped in his hands now, wrapped loosely around it, so tiny he could span it with his fingers.

Her eyes sought his, trapping his roving gaze, and in the direct trajectory of that look, he felt suddenly exposed, and not just because he was naked beneath her.

The knit of her brows made him wonder if he'd let something slip, watching as her eyes searched his face, and suddenly terrified of what she’d find on it, evidence more damning than the one written on his skin, “If you were to get a tattoo, what would you get?” Shanks asked her.

If she heard that he was trying to change the subject, her startled smile didn't mind. “I don’t know,” Makino mused. She was playing with the hair on his chest now, her eyes lowered under her lashes. “Something pretty. I like flowers.”

His grin had momentarily forgotten about his own tattoo, distracted by the thought of what she'd look like with one, and the bare canvas of her body where he held it. “A compass rose?”

She stuck her tongue out, but pulled it back when he tried to catch it in a kiss, the water sloshing wildly around them, and laughing, “I’m not a sailor,” Makino reminded him pertly. She had her hands pressed to his mouth, although it did little to contain his grin, stretching behind her fingers. “And I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon for a landlubber to get a sailor tattoo.”

Nipping at her fingers, “If that’s your worry, you could always become a pirate," Shanks rumbled. "Problem solved.”

Her laugh was soft, as her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs brushing the corners of his eyes. The last dregs of sunlight danced in hers, the look in them soft where she held his face. “Is piracy the solution to all your problems?”

His smile tilting, “You’d be surprised,” Shanks said, but held his tongue before he could say that piracy had solved one of his life’s biggest obstacles, which was directly related to the tattoo on his arm. Instead, what he told her was, “Piracy was freedom. That alone solves a number of problems.”

Makino hummed, brushing her thumb over the edges of his scars. “And what were you seeking freedom from, Captain? This isn’t where you tell me you have a wife somewhere, is it?”

His grin kept his secrets, but then he’d had years of practice guarding his expressions, the ones he’d spent in Mariejois a greater education than any other part of his life. “No wife,” he said honestly, although stopped himself before he could say not yet.

He blinked, but didn’t know what surprised him more―the sudden impulse to speak the words to her, or that it didn’t horrify him to realise that he meant them.

Makino was watching him, her eyes soft, and he wondered suddenly what she would have said if he had spoken them out loud. They’d barely known each other a few months, and more than that, he was leaving soon. He’d renounced the life that would have seen him settled with a wife, walled in from the rest of the world and miles from the sea he loved, and more than anything.

But watching her where she sat, the petite frame of her body cradled between his, the loveliest being the sea had made, he couldn’t shake the feeling within him; as though it had been imprinted, and in something more permanent than ink.

Even sea-longing didn't feel like this―a yearning so fierce that it left him short of breath, even now.

Cocking her head, her eyes searched his face, as though if she only looked hard enough, she might find the answers she sought there, about his past, and his life before her. But then her own life was an open map, hiding no more secrets than her face did. In comparison, Shanks had so many secrets, if he were to tell her, he didn’t even know where to begin.

No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly where he should begin; the only thing he didn’t know was how she’d react to learning the truth.

Her hands released his face to trace the width of his shoulders, her eyes following the paths of her fingers, charting his body as she’d come to know it, a curious boldness that was different from her usual shyness when it came to touching him.

Shanks watched her, transfixed, but then her face wore all her thoughts openly, not a single secret to be found in it, but while her helpless attraction usually made him feel stupidly gratified, this time all he felt was soft.

In his whole life, no one had ever touched him like that, or looked at him like that―not just with attraction or desire, but with a gentle sort of wonder that made him want to be the person she saw, and admired.

Her fingertips brushed the tattoo again, and he had to stop himself from tensing up, but before he could, the palm of her hand covered it. It was so tiny the full spread of her fingers didn't even span the width of his bicep, and wasn’t enough to hide the whole tattoo, but the significance of the gesture wasn’t lost on him. And he didn’t know how she’d deduced that it wasn’t just the drunken evidence of a questionable decision in his youth, but when her eyes met his, the look in them understood, even if she didn’t know half of it.

He felt exposed again, all of him stripped bare under that look, only this time, Shanks didn’t try to escape it, allowing her instead to see, his second skin shucked, and leaving him more vulnerable than he'd allowed himself to be around anyone, even his crew.

And he wanted to tell her then, about all of it. Held by that trusting look, Shanks thought he could have told her anything.

But it would mean bringing that world here, to her gentle shores, and into the peace that existed here, untouched by the concerns and the corruption of the greater world. The Holy Land might as well be a fairy story to the people here, but if he told her who he was, and the things he’d done, the things that tattoo was a living reminder of, it would make it real. And if he could spare her from that, he would, even if it meant withholding that part of himself from her.

Of course, if he was completely honest, it wasn't just for her sake that he wanted to keep his disguise; the shape he'd grown dangerously comfortable in here, with her. Her captain, who could inspire both wonder and exasperation; who could make her laugh and blush and moan, but more than anything, who had her trust.

But he was good at keeping secrets. Mariejois had taught him that, after all, changing his shape to be what his surroundings required him to be, a steel-faced noble or a rakish pirate captain, they were all just second skins, neither more true or false than the other.

She wasn’t touching the tattoo now, playing instead with the hair on his chest. And holding her, he wondered idly if he could find a tattoo artist to change it. It wouldn’t need much work to turn it into a compass rose; something that invoked fairer winds and following seas, and her, who embodied both. Even if it wouldn’t change what it had been, or what it had meant once, it didn’t mean it couldn’t become something new. A pirate’s symbol of freedom, to choose his own course, not a reminder of what he’d been, but who he wanted to be.

And if his course should one day lead him back to her…

He was drifting off to sleep, lulled by the tracing on his skin, when her voice rose into the quiet,

“Seriously.” Law groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before he snapped his book shut and got up from his couch.

Taking two steps forward, he came to stand above the drowning idiot. He gave him one last incredulous look before he raised one of his hands.

“Room,” he said curtly.

The water swirled under his palm for a moment before it shot out in all directions, forming a dome around the two of them, a column at the top leading all the way to the surface. Once air filled the space around them, Law flicked his fingers.

“Tact.”

A second later, the idiot lying at his feet started coughing as the water followed Law’s command, making its way out of his lungs and back out his mouth.

It didn't take long for Straw Hat to fully regain consciousness then. There were tears in his eyes when he rolled onto his stomach, shakily getting up to his knees as he heaved, spitting out the last few drops of water. Only then did he look up, turning his head every which way with eyes blown wide, staring in awe at the water dome around him.

And finally, his eyes fell on Law.

"You're the fish dude," he said, sounding…strangely excited.

Law stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what the hell he had just heard. He wasn’t surprised the idiot had noticed his existence after all the visits to the lake but…

"Fish dude," he repeated, voice void of any emotion.

"Yeah!" Straw Hat nodded proudly with a painfully bright smile on his lips. "I'm Luffy! Monkey D. Luffy."

Law rubbed at his temples, already feeling a headache coming. He didn't like any random person knowing his name but if the alternative was to be called 'fish dude'… "Trafalgar Law."

"Traf-Tura-Torao. Hey, did you save me?" Straw Hat asked, apparently satisfied with the completely butchered name.

Law didn't even care anymore.

"Yes," he sighed. "But just so you know…" Law trailed off, gesturing with his hand and releasing his power, causing the water to crash down around them and submerge the lake floor once more.

Straw Hat—Luffy—yelped, his arms flailing in panic; maybe thinking that if he tried hard enough, he could keep the water away from himself. Law simply watched in mild amusement as he struggled for a while longer until the realisation dawned on him.

"I can breathe," Straw Hat muttered quietly.

"Yes. A handy side-effect of my power touching you. As a matter of fact, it’s a sign that your soul is bound to me and if I actually cared, I could keep you down here for the rest of your life as a slave. But, luckily for you, I do not care. So, if you would kindly leave now…" Law gestured in a random direction, giving Straw Hat an impatient look.

"This is amazing!" Luffy laughed as he looked around, taking a deep breath as if to appreciate his new ability.

"He's totally ignoring you, Captain," Bepo noted.

"Did that catfish just talk?!" Straw Hat was gaping now, staring at Bepo with wide eyes.

Bepo's gaze dropped as he muttered, "Sorry."

"That's so cool! Do all fish talk now?!"

Law groaned. This was going to be a long day.

—————

If you asked Law how he liked to spend his days, he would say studying medicine, reading, chatting with Bepo, or hanging out with Penguin and Shachi by the lake. Maybe going to the village library if he was bored enough to actually bother turning his pointy ears, sharp teeth, and green skin human.

The answer certainly wouldn’t be sitting on his couch with some guy sprawled next to him, listening to said guy chatter away, and answering a hundred-plus-one questions about his life, his abilities, the lake, his damn coin collection. And yet, here he was.

And he hated to admit that he was actually having fun.

“How can you keep so many books here?” Straw Hat asked, pulling out a random one from the bookcase.

Law had to bite down a laugh when Luffy quickly put the book back as if it had burned him once he realised it was a Latin dictionary. “I can control the water here, in case you didn’t notice,” Law answered, careful not to let his amusement show.

“Oh, right. Do you have anything that’s not super boring though?” Luffy gave him a look as if he was judging him and Law puffed up.

“Like what?” he hissed.

“Some adventures! Something exciting! All you have here is just…studying. Don’t you want to have fun?” There was an inquisitive look in Luffy’s eyes while he questioned Law’s taste in books, one that completely froze Law in place.

Luffy’s eyes seemed…hungry. Like he was dying for something, a caged bird who ached for adventure. For freedom. Yet, there was determination behind the yearning, a fire burning just behind those large, expressive eyes—a fire just as warm, just as bright, just as enticing as the sun far above in the sky.

And just like the sun… Law wanted to bask in that gaze.

“Torao?”

Suddenly brought back to reality, Law shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts. What was that? He’d never felt the urge to just…follow someone into the unknown—much less a human person who had literally crashed into his life only hours earlier.

Ridiculous.

“Sounds like you’re the one who wants to go on an adventure, Straw Hat-ya,” Law noted, his words not betraying his confused thoughts.

Immediately, a wide, impossibly bright grin spread on Straw Hat’s lips. “Yeah! And you’re coming with!"

A beat passed while Law blinked, staring at Straw Hat as if he’d grown a second head. “Excuse me?”

"Yeah! I still don't have a ship but once I do, you’re sailing with me." His eyes seemingly looked past Law, somewhere far ahead—further than Law could imagine—, a quiet but powerful determination burning behind them.

Law gulped heavily, biting back the urge to agree on the spot. He would be lying if he said this tiny lake and little village weren't boring. Much too small for Law's taste. But this idiot couldn't just know how much Law wanted to get out.

There was simply no way.

"Why the hell would I?" Law asked after a long stretch of silence.

Straw Hat tilted his head to the side at the question, a small frown on his face as he gazed back at Law with confusion.

Adorable. 

Law startled at the thought before he quickly chased it away.

"Why?" Straw Hat repeated. "’Cause I like you and you're obviously bored. Of course I'm taking you out of here," he announced, a wide grin on his lips and Law…

Law hated the way his heart skipped a beat.

Those words, those eyes, that smile…this whole man was dangerous. 

Dangerous, because Law wanted to know more about him; to see more of his smiles, hear more of his laughter, witness how far that reckless determination could take him.

Even these thoughts were dangerous.

It didn’t matter how easy he was to talk to or how comfortable Law felt in his presence—and that he was cute, well…

That mattered the least of all.

“Yeah, no,” Law refused flatly.

Immediately, Straw Hat let out a drawn out whine. “Torao, come on!”

“No.” Law waved his hand dismissively, making the water swirl around Luffy’s head to indicate the conversation was over.

Straw Hat, however, didn’t seem to agree. He puffed up his cheeks before powering through the stream towards Law—who only smirked and strengthened the current before turning away.

A grave mistake, as he had learned a moment later when arms wrapped around his shoulders, Straw Hat draping himself over him. “To-ra-o! Don’t be mean. Go out with me!”

Law froze. Did he just— “Are you asking me on a date, Straw Hat-ya?”

Luffy snickered at Law’s completely flat tone. “Might as well, if it gets you out of this place for a day.”

Law sighed. This idiot really had no idea what he was saying at any given time, did he? Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Law realised that there really was no point arguing with him.

“Whatever. You’re going back to your brothers.”

“Why?!” Straw Hat cried, his arms tightening around Law’s shoulders.

“Because I’ve had enough of your shit for a lifetime,” Law hissed, shrugging the arms off. He only missed the warmth for a short moment before he turned around to glare at Straw Hat.

Luffy stared back for a moment but then he pointed an accusing finger at Law. “Torao, you’re embarrassed!”

“I’m most certainly not,” Law snapped, clicking his tongue and trying to ignore the way his breath caught in his throat at the bright smile he was given.

“I’m going to make you admit it.”

Law scowled. Why did he save this idiot’s ass again?

“Goodbye, Straw Hat-ya. Shambles.”

“Tora—”

Straw Hat’s protests were cut short, a piece of wood replacing his wide eyes, his open mouth, and his hand reaching out as if to grab for Law. The imp could hear water splashing and people shouting—no doubt Straw Hat’s brothers who had been yelling and running around the lake for a while now.

Finally, some peace.

—————

Relaxing on the couch the next day, Law closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the serene atmosphere of the bottom of the lake. It was as if the day before had never happened; there was no loud laughter now, no intrusive questions, no accidental date invitations.

Maybe he really had hallucinated all of yesterday.

“It’s so quiet,” Bepo muttered where he was swimming in circles above Law.

Law cracked one eye open to give the catfish an unimpressed look as he scoffed, “Don’t tell me you miss the noise.”

“I’m just saying!” Bepo cried defensively. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Law replied automatically but then he sighed. He couldn’t deny that his friend had a point. It was strange being in his house alone with just Bepo again.

No, it wasn’t lonely. Just weird.

Definitely just weird.

He should just read something. Did he have any fiction? Maybe he could take out his Sora, Warrior of the Sea comics…

Law groaned; what was he thinking? Did he actually take Straw Hat’s words from yesterday to heart? Ridiculous. But… It had been a while since he’d read the series…

The moment he stood up to go look for them, a loud splash came from above and Law froze, his head whipping up to stare at the large…object that was currently sinking to the bottom of the lake and straight on top of his goddamned bookcase. Law refused to acknowledge what he was seeing. Refused to see the flailing arms, the flowing black hair, the scar under his eye, the straw hat.

If he closed his eyes, it wasn’t happening.

“Straw Hat! You’ll mess up the books!!” Bepo cried in panic before he shot forward to push the not-drowning idiot out of the way.

Law heaved a deep sigh. Of course it was real.

“What the hell are you doing?” Law asked, voice full of exasperation.

“I thought I’d swim to your place but I couldn’t!” Straw Hat whined, sounding out of breath—probably from where Bepo had crashed into his stomach at full speed.

“Oh.” Law had totally forgotten about that. “Yeah, you can’t swim anymore. Total anchor now. Sorry.”

Straw Hat hummed, sitting up on the floor with a thoughtful expression on his face. But then, he snickered. “Eh, I couldn’t swim before either so it doesn’t really matter!”

Law’s eyebrows shot up at. That explained how he had managed to nearly drown in a shallow lake like this but…really? After coming to the lake almost every day for years? Unbelievable.

“I mean, what are you doing here?” Law asked instead of doing something ridiculous like laughing. “There’s nothing interesting for you here.”

The moment their eyes met, Straw Hat’s face split into the brightest grin Law had ever seen.  And somehow… Law knew what Straw Hat was going to say and he knew that this time—

“You’re here, Torao. And you owe me a date.”

—he wouldn’t be able to refuse.