safe space | One Piece

Shanks

The sixth day aboard the Red Force was bathed in lethargic hues of orange and pink, as the sun began to rise above the visible horizon and drape the once frosty air in humidity. Shanks did not relish in it like he typically would, as his forehead throbbed with a routine ache and his throat was parched. Flinching at the glimpse of light that skimmed his skin, he ducked his head. Beckman chuckled to his right.

"Shut up," he slurred, shifting away from the entrance to the Captain's room, to stumble his way across the deck and avoid loose barrels strewn across the area with little care. Mindlessly, he noted to schedule for a cleaning day soon. His hand dragged across his face, the stubble along his jawline scratching his palm. "Luffy's crew?" Shanks muttered, eyeing his first mate.

Beckman fixed his hair into a low ponytail with a hum, finding energy that Shanks envied, in the damp morning. He had drunk considerably less than Shanks and made sure to lord it over his head at every given chance, since waking up. "Back on their ship. Their navigator—Nami? Has started plotting their course." Shanks nodded, disregarding the dull ache of his heart as it resounded throughout his body. Melancholy was the feeling that echoed in his chest like an echo; he was not prepared to say goodbye to Luffy for a second time.

"Luffy's brother?" Shanks wandered towards the railing, inspecting the lurching of water. The sea was eerily erratic but that was standard for the New World.

"Stayed aboard, he fell asleep with Luffy." Shanks made a noncommittal sound, as he judged the waves with his head tilted to the left.

"Does he remind you of anybody?" Beckman snorted, joining him and leaning against the railing; the position was familiar, as it was their typical morning routine. The life of a pirate was rarely peaceful, so they opted to revel in the moments when they came. Today, it came in the form of docile winds and wisps of cirrus clouds, wading along the vast ocean of sky. With the backdrop of baby blue, Shanks found tranquillity in its presence.

"Ace," Beckman said, sombre. "They're both spitfires," he laughed, the sound hearty and thrumming with life. "And with a flair for the dramatic."

Shanks guffawed, "Roger would've loved them. All of them." His words were hardly mournful, more so, reminiscing of the man who had shaped his childhood and future—the future of the world, too. He, too, always had a flair for the dramatic. Shanks could recall the buzz of laughter as the news coo flew in and delivered their newest bounties and report of the Roger pirates' latest escapades; he could remember it, like yesterday, Roger's broad grin and pride gleaming in his wide eyes as he boasted about the wanted posters of his crew—his family.

"Two more days, right?" Beckman muttered, leaning away from the railing. "How can we be so sure the information Nico Robin collected was... accurate?"

Shanks' lips canted down. They were dry. "There's no way to verify; I think it's safe to say the Devil Fruit user is dead, however. If Luffy—our Luffy—is not back by the week's end, we'll employ our efforts elsewhere. Look into locating the Devil Fruit, or other fruits that may return Luffy to his crew." Beckman nodded, his eyebrows drawn together in complex emotion.

"Right... should I inform the crew?"

Shanks glowered at the rocketing water below, "No, let's keep it under wraps, for now. No need to cause anxiety." His hair, slick with oil, fell in waves across his vision as he ducked his head. "Let's hope Lucky Roux has started breakfast by now."

Beckman chuckled, with a crooked smirk, "Pretty sure he's just as hungover as you." Shanks groaned in answer.

-

Luffy burst from the door with vigour, pouring into the kitchen with a grin and a tall, blonde man at his heel. "Sabo, c'mon," he called out with a giggle, as he directed Sabo to sit at Shanks' table with little care for the concept of etiquette. No one commented on it. "I'm hungry!" He cried, sparing a hand to steal from Shanks' plate and eat his food. He disregarded Shanks' futile protest and Sabo's swatting hand, his brilliant laughter ringing boldly in the ship's galley.