I am! It’s been so long since the last update that I thought I’d do two chapters, and hope that someone is still reading this fic. I’m aiming at posting them later tonight, but you’re so lovely for being excited, so have a sneak peek! (and yes, there will be pining and flirting and Shanks aggressively peacocking)

Makino frowned, observing the casual grace with which he’d claimed a seat, his long legs draped astride the bench, perfectly at ease.

Something had changed about him from the day before. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but something was different, a shift in his presence around her, which was a far cry from how he’d been when he’d first brought her aboard, when he’d barely been able to look at her, and the pain in his eyes had almost been too much for her to endure.

There was a new calm about him now, something that wanted to answer to determination, although she couldn’t for the life of her guess the reason; a resolute stillness in his being that showed in how he held himself, the straightness of his back and the cunning quality of his grey eyes.

She had no idea what had prompted the sudden change, or what it even meant, but didn’t want to prod at that thought too much, when his presence already caused her so much confusion.

“The deal you made with Boa Hancock,” Red-Hair began then, and she blinked, surprised by the topic, out of all the things he could have chosen to bring up.

He didn’t say anything else, just let the words hang in the air between them, suggestive, and she heard what went unspoken well enough.

“I have to defeat her,” Makino said, and couldn’t help the stab of hurt at the reminder, although it was never far from her mind. “If I want to return to my tribe, there’s no other way.”

The implication wasn’t subtle—that she intended to do just that, regardless of what he or anyone else had to say about it. She would go back, and she would win. She’d told Hancock as much, and wouldn’t waver in her conviction any more against this opponent.

She thought he would protest—to say that she couldn’t return, or that he wouldn’t let her go now that he’d found her, but he didn’t.

“You would have won that fight,” Red-Hair said instead, catching her off guard. “If it hadn’t been for her conqueror’s haki.”

She tried to shove down the swell of pride within her, but couldn’t, and wasn’t quick enough to stop her face from showing it, although Makino doubted she would have succeeded even if she had been.

And she might have accused him of lying to get into her good graces, to spin sweet untruths and offer false compliments just to get her to drop her guard, but there was no deception to be found when he spoke, just bare-faced honesty, and a quiet pride that sat deep in his eyes.

She didn’t know what to do with that, or the reaction it evoked in her, but then praise from one of the greatest swordsmen in the world would make anyone sit a little straighter. Makino didn’t think it would have been any different had it come from any of the other Emperors.

Or so she told herself, anyway.

“I’ll help you, if you want,” Red-Hair said then.

Her eyes flew up in surprise.

“If you’re going to beat her, you’ll need practice withstanding conqueror’s haki in battle,” he continued. His eyes held hers, that sharp steel unsheathed. The lamplight brought out the sprigs of green in them, bright against his hair, a darker red now, still damp from the rain.

His smile crooked a bit, and her gaze shot towards his mouth, before she had to remind herself to drag it back up to his eyes, but if he noticed, Red-Hair didn’t let on.

11. What do you like best about this fic?

Okay but you are a gem for asking about this one. You know the way to my heart, clearly.

The short answer to this is “retired father of three barkeep!Shanks in an apron”, which goes to say just how ridiculously self-indulgent this fic is, but this is also what I like best about it? Before first sitting down to write it I thought “but who else but you is going to want to read this?”, and at the time it had been years since I’d last written anything for One Piece, but I’d also just been through a really long period where I’d had no drive or inspiration to write, and this – this story was the first thing in months that I just really wanted to write.

And so I went for it, and writing the first two parts was what got me back into writing, and writing for OP, and then I just…kept adding more self-indulgent, disgustingly domestic scenes and now it’s probably the fic I like best out of everything I’ve written, ever? There’s just a lot of me in that fic, which makes it at once a very vulnerable thing, but it’s also something I’m really proud of, so…yeah. There’s a lot to it, and a lot of thought and heart behind it.

Ah, my grief baby. I was going to work on this fic tonight, so this came at a good time!

2. What scene did you first put down?

Other than the scene from Sea Songs with Shanks and Blackbeard, the first scene I wrote for this fic was this piece of conversation between Makino and Dragon after Fuschia is destroyed, because I’d had it in my head for weeks:

He was looking at her now, and she had the uncomfortable impression of being assessed – as though he was judging her merit, although she couldn’t for the life of her even guess what her use might be for someone like him.

“We are all pawns, Makino-san,” Dragon said then. “It’s been a slow game, and it’s time certain pieces stopped being idle.”

A good chunk of this fic was plotted out in my head long before I started putting it down on paper, but this scene was the one that finally had me thinking “you know what, I’ll try writing it out and then I’ll see if there’s any merit to this idea”. And I’m really happy I did, because I’ve loved writing this story so far.

3. What’s your favourite line of narration?

Oof, this was hard, but since this fic is heavy on the character exploration, and Makino’s especially, I think I’ll say this bit, because she’s been so strong throughout this whole mess, but just as I like exploring strength in adversity, I also like pushing my favourites to their breaking points:

She felt it then, within her – the slightest ripple, like a crack shooting through a polished glass, not breaking it, but leaving a mark. A single chip in the rim, to cut your lip. Even whole, she’d never used cracked glasses for serving, never knowing how little it might take, to shatter it.

It felt like that now, a hairline fracture forking through the surface of her conviction, the one she’d kept within herself, wrapped with steel and held together with all her strength, all her stubbornness, all the way across the sea and under it. It had survived the destruction of her home, and endured all those days of uncertainty aboard Dragon’s ship – had survived that crippling helplessness knowing she could do nothing to change her fate. It had borne the weight of all her fears, escaping the Revolutionaries, escaping Blackbeard, losing her son, but now she felt like she was losing herself, and for all that she’d tried to do, in the end, she’d still failed.

15. What did you learn from writing this fic?

I’ve been writing this fic for nearly a year, so there have been a lot of smaller lessons learned, but I think I can sum it up with three things:

1. I might be a little bit sadistic. Just a teensy bit.

2. I LOVE WRITING BLACKBEARD. Seriously, what a character. A villain after my own dramatic heart.

SOWING SMALL SEEDS // Shanks x Makino // daylily; coquetry, quince; temptation, sweet pea; delicate pleasures

It’seasy to believe he’s the most obvious flirt.

Oh,he’s obvious, make no mistake –affections honest to the point of shameless, and he makes no effort to temperhis appreciation. And he knows how to make her blush like he knows how to makeher laugh, and the combination of the two usually leaves him feeling like he’sknocked back a shot that’s gone straight to his head. But then she has that effect.

And she’snot shameless in any sense of the word, but that doesn’t mean she’s any lessobvious, her face too open to be convincingly coy, and her expression lettingslip just about everything. And if there was any doubt left about what she’sthinking, the roses spreading across her throat and cheeks is evidenceenough.

“Shewants me,” he tells Ben, with a dramatic sigh, lifting his glass to his lips. “It’sobvious.”

“She’syour wife,” Ben points out, and Shanks grins.

“Besidethe point.”

Benshakes his head. “You’re an embarrassment.”

“Hey, she’s the one givingme bedroom eyes! And not subtly, either.”

“You would know,” Ben says, cutting him a look. “Nothing about you is subtle.”

“Ihave been told I have something of a presence, yes.”

“Iwas referring to the hair, but sure,” Ben muses. “Let’s go with that.”

“Youwish you had my hair,” Shanks counters.

“Everyday,” Ben deadpans, not missing a beat.

Shankslifts his glass, salute punctuated by a cheeky grin. “Always knew it.”

Tippingit back, his eyes seek hers across the room – finds them dark and inviting, andthe warmth that drops into his gut has little to do with the drink.

He holds her gaze as she makes the rounds, weaving between tables with an easethat doesn’t require her full attention, land legs sure and steady; a captain in her own right, no ship under her feet but her authority a fact. And her attention she reserves for him, and the promise in hereyes makes the air in the room seem heavier, the muted babel pushed to the farcorners, leaving a vacuum where it’s difficult to remember that there’s morethan just the two of them present.

“Well,”Yasopp speaks up, after a lengthy pause, and the vacuum yields – like the roomitself heaves for breath. “I’m calling it a night, before Boss drops his pants.”

Hegets a crude gesture for that, but Shanks doesn’t drop his eyes from Makino,making her way over to the bar now. He tucks his grin behind the rim of his glass.“Don’t tempt me, Curly. I just might.”

“Whosepants are dropping?” Makino asks, stepping up to where they’re sitting. Shetakes one look at his shorts, gaze lingering a beat on the cheerful floralprint, before she’s lifted them back to his. “Is it too much to hope it’syours?”

Shankschokes on his drink, and Yasopp barks a laugh. “For all our sakes, Ma-chan, atleast wait until we’re out the door.”

“Nopromises,” Shanks coughs, the burn of the drink having cinched his throattight, but it’s a feat keeping his grin off, and when she passes him by hertouch remains longer than she does, fingertips sketching, light and meaningfulacross the back of his neck.

Hecatches Yasopp’s mutter about honeymoonought to be over by now, and sticks his tongue out. Ben hides his grin behind his glass.

Thehour creeps beyond Makino’s closing hours, and the room clears, little by little.Shanks retreats to check on the baby – finds him asleep, breaths heavy, andnone of his own worries to wear on that little heart. And it’s almost too easyto lose himself, watching him sleep; easy to forget, all his worries and burdens,under the spell of those soft breaths.

It’seasy – like it’s easy to forget when he’s home, that there’s a sea beyond theport. And it’s impossible to forget, when he’s gone, that he has made a homehere, with all that entails.

Re-enteringthe common room, it’s to find the others having taken their leave, and then it’sjust the two of them, a bottle of scotch on the counter between them, and herlaughter takes on a different quality – that soft, breathless thing that’saccompanied by the curl of her toes where she’s kicked off her shoes, and she’sdragged her stool so close there’s no part of them that’s not touching.

“Thoseglasses are still going to be dirty tomorrow at this rate,” Shanks muses. “Andyou used to be such a stickler for routines. I can remember a time you wouldn’teven kiss me before you’d mopped the floor.”

Thenudge of her leg offers a soft reprimand, and he catches it, running his thumbover the arch of her knee, seeking bare skin. A different creature now, twoglasses into the bottle and with privacy a fact, she doesn’t bat his hand awaywhen he pushes her skirt up, and the gleam in her eyes chases the years off hisback, off his heart.

“Ihaven’t seen you in three months,” she reminds him. “The glasses can wait.”

“Yousure? This place might go under if you do.”

Shepinches his thigh for that, and he catches her hand – traps her fingers betweenhis, to tug her knuckles close for a kiss, and nips at her fingers when shetugs at his beard in retaliation. “Although while we’re on the subject of the past threemonths, I’d like to remind you that Isuggested a quickie when I walked off the ship earlier,” he says, browslifting. “You’re the one who didn’t take me up on the offer. Regretting thatnow, are we?”

“You,” Makino laughs, and the word holdstoo many things to count – an endearment, a fond reproach, contentment and thatsoft disbelief, as though he can still surprise her. “Sometimes I find it hardto believe you’re almost forty,” she says. “Twelve years, and you haven’tchanged one bit.”

Before he can offer a comeback to that, preferably something glib, she tiltsher head an adds, flicking her eyes low, “Well. Your dress-sense used to be alittle more discreet.”

“Stillon me about the pants,” Shanks sighs. Then, brow raised in challenge, “You’re welcometo take them off, you know. No one’s stopping you.”

Hehears her hum, and catches the downwards direction of her gaze, openly boldnow, and in a way that makes his grin stretch, unabashedly pleased. Then –“Thatpattern is stopping me,” she quips, dark eyes bright with laughter when hechokes in outrage. “But if you remove them, I might change my tune.”

Heshakes his head, but his heart feels light with her presence, and when hetightens his grip on her thigh she shifts closer, small shape seeking his.

Andfor all her claims to the opposite, he has changed, Shanks thinks, watchingher. There’s little of his old restlessness left, and he wonders if she’s feltit – if it’s as obvious as the rest of him, that it’s not the sea his heartseeks now, for rest.

She’snever asked him to stay, and he doubts she ever will, although looking at hernow, fingertips tracing the pattern on his shorts, almost absently, he has the sudden thought that he wouldn’t mind if she did.

Becausehe wants this, he realises – the little things that are his. Their son sleeping, and abottle shared between them. Little, intimate pleasures; small hands that never strayfar from where he is, and her gentle humour, the one that can so easily be wicked as entirelyinnocent. And they might be married and entirely too obvious, but that she canstill catch him off guard with the latter is a marvel, and anything but a given.

Thenudge of her glass against his own yields a tender sound, and, “I’ve missedyou,” Makino says softly. And it’s the closest she’ll come, Shanks knows, totelling him that she wishes he’d stay longer – that he’d stay.

Heknows the answer he’d like to give her, but it’s in the scars that he feels theonly answer he can give, although he’s never been moretempted to be selfish and choose the former, Teach and the New World be damned. And she knows, which is why she won’t ask. The only thingshe’s ever asked of him is to come back, which is a terribly small thing, givenall the things he’s asked of her – for her patience, and to have her for wife,both of which she’d accepted, and without so much as a pause for breath, let alone for thought.

“Youhave, huh?” he asks, palm curved around her knee. He finds her pulse, the skin above it soft and yielding.

“Hmm.”She flicks her eyes to his, laughter in them, and something far more tender. “Enough that I’m willing toforget about the pants.”

Hishand gripping her knee tips her off the stool, startling a laugh when she fallsagainst him, before she’s stifled it in his shirt, along with the reprimand thatthey’ll wake the baby at this rate, and then it’ll have to be a quickie, and he’llonly have himself to blame if they can’t get him to go back to sleep, and–

This was absolutely wonderful! You know I've got such a soft spot for Garp and this family ♡ waah, Ben the business tycoon !!! I love it, you're the best!

Your stories are canon to me …so thank you for letting me know that I don’t have to suffer from heartbreak in the future ;)

I love the way you write Shanks! Absolutely love LOVE all your writings!! :)

Gosh you’re so nice!! Shanks is hands down my favourite character to write, so this was lovely to hear!

panpan3 replied to your post “FEATHERS IN THE BROAD WING OF TIME – Because let’s face it, Shanks is...”

This is wonderful ��

FRIEND, YOU ARE WONDERFUL ♡♡♡

rhdina replied to your post “FEATHERS IN THE BROAD WING OF TIME – Because let’s face it, Shanks is...”

Birthday buddies!!! :)) And you posted it on their birthday ...this is wonderful. Love it ;)

I get all giddy when I see another SaboKoala fic from you. This one is so adorable and Sol is such a beautiful name for their daughter. When Sol becomes a toddler and can walk, I bet she can turn the revo org upside down. :D Thanks again for another wonderful fic

rhdina replied to your post “TOURNESOL It takes a revolutionary army to raise a child. Or...”

So sweet *.* !!! Thank you, this was such a nice way to end the weekend.

kindervenom replied to your post “TOURNESOL It takes a revolutionary army to raise a child. Or...”

I DONT EVEN GO HERE AND I LOVE THIS!!! You write the sweetest, most darling kid fic. This is precious (but not as precious as you *squishes you*)

thesunwillkeeponshining replied to your post “TOURNESOL It takes a revolutionary army to raise a child. Or...”

That ending tho T^T I love love love how you tied in their back stories too! That's what shaped each of their lives and you connected that so well to how Sol is treated by each individual and WOW THIS IS AMAZING