Chapter 9: Second Savor: Shanks
Second Savor ~ Shanks
The weather report today wasn't kidding when it predicted heavy showers. It was raining cats and dogs tonight, and Hell, I couldn't see that clearly.
As the rain grew stronger, I decided to switch on the windshield wiper. Two mechanical arms folded from left to right, providing better clarity. It wasn't really a good idea, though. It helped, yeah—but not as much, since it wasn't as clear as I hoped. Second-hand cars are that cheap.
Giving up on straining my eyes further, I glanced at Luffy from the side before eyeing the road and sighing. "Oi, Luffy, don't tell me you fell asleep again!" Yup, the narcoleptic kid fell asleep. He's been dozing off a lot more often these days—or maybe it was just the exhaustion from moving into a new home. Perhaps the weather was that relaxing? It could be just me, really, with not much clue—not that it matters. He needed the rest.
I always felt that a certain exigency ran this house. The owner was quite an enforcer. Unfortunately, he was gone, and the liveliness of this home was crumbling, to fade away eventually. For the time being, that feeling—or whatever remained of it—could only cling to the only occupant left in this house.
What was up with the afternoon that day? It was sluggish and time enjoyed a nice hiatus. The air was pretty dead for a supposedly beautiful spring. If you asked me for anything striking about the place, I wouldn't have much to say. Other than a few pieces of furniture that originally came with the residence, there was nothing left. Old Man Garp's valuables had been shipped, either to the new apartment or for temporary detainment. Luffy, his only heir, was still a minor, and because Garp's death was untimely, his last will wasn't fully specific.
As stated in the will, though, Luffy had to be placed under my custody. I was kind of the obvious choice in the matter, me being the closest to him. With that settled, I moved in with Luffy while addressing certain property issues that needed resolution. When I made that decision to move in, I took his emotional condition to consideration. This feeling was definitely new to him. He probably didn't want to leave his home—at least, not yet. I knew how hard it was to let go.
When I checked my watch, it was half past four. Bloody late, I remarked while resting my hands on the table. There were some lease papers that needed signing, and the buyer of the house, along with his broker, wasn't an early bird. I was, however, entertained by a kid devouring an extra large bucket of chicken wings while we sat around the small kitchen table. I was amused, yet a little sad, at watching this display. It was sad to say that it was going to be his last meal before leaving this house—and all of its memories—forever. It meant a lot.
Luffy looked at me, satisfied with his meal. "Bhenks, Bankshu!" Thanks, Shanks. Chicken bits were still in between his teeth, and while he said this, he bore a smile. That trademark smile of his was complemented by a bright shine in his eyes. Seeing him smile made me produce my own.
For the many years I knew Luffy, he always had a simple mind and an optimistic view. It never faltered, even with the news of that old man's death—reminding me of someone I knew all too well. He went through the funeral processions with a smile and a farewell to his grandfather before the burial. Later on, when the eulogies were said and done, I caught the kid binging on the small feast prepared for the funeral guests. A lot of us guessed he was doing so out of depression—until we all found out that the funeral preparations Luffy pitched in to fix charged him a light breakfast. Luffy, intending to make up for a half-filling meal, made an effort to satisfy himself.
Looking back at it, I'd say I underestimated him and his ability to walk forward. He knew Garp passed away and he accepted it. I expected breakdowns, failing grades and isolation, but none of those came. I knew Luffy was still a kid, currently thirteen years old, but he handled the situation like a man. He continued to smile, and at one point, I recalled myself asking if he cared for Garp's soul—just for curiosity's sake.
"Of course, I do! It's just that Grandpa Garp would kill me if he sees me crying over him!" Luffy had laughed while watching TV. "He raised me to be strong." I had this feeling that Garp would have been proud.
"Luffy, do you have all your stuff packed?" I asked, "Nothing else important?"
"You keep nagging me!" He seemed to be whining, picking on the next chicken wing. "I have everything packed!"
"Just making sure." I laughed, slamming my hand on the table continuously. "Knowing you, you've forgotten something!" He couldn't fire any comeback, though, not when he fell asleep.
I heaved a sigh. Blimey, narcolepsy was inconvenient. The only thing that actually changed about Luffy, since Garp's death, was his sleeping patterns. Narcolepsy struck him much more frequently that I wondered if Garp's spirit rested inside Luffy.
Wait, scratch that. That sounds like an early Hell coming.
Luffy continued to snore beside me, unaware that we were already there. With a cheeky grin, I pinched his nose, depriving him from precious oxygen. In a matter of seconds, he jumped up, awake and apparently pissed.
I chortled, finding it cute. Dahahaha, but anyway—"How's your beauty sleep?" Luffy just continued to pout. He groaned and looked out the window, still carrying the same face.
"I was dreaming of a thousand pieces of meat and I was eating all of it," he mumbled while clutching his stomach. I couldn't help but chuckle. Luffy dreaming of meat was just typical of him.
"Good that you're hungry. We're here and this place, I heard, is pretty good." I smiled. As expected, that brought a shine in Luffy's eyes.
After finding some parking space—and barely making it—we headed inside the restaurant, amazed at the Baratie's glamour. I noticed Luffy's eyes scouting for food, and while he did so, I was peering at the bar from the reception area. Those drinks needed some sampling.
"Welcome to ze Baratie. Table for 'ow many, sir?" The receptionist was idly tapping on the screen of his touch computer while speaking in a French accent.
Time to practice my French—"Table pour deux, sous le nom de Sengoku? J'ai moi-même une réserve." Table for two, under the name of Sengoku? I've got myself a reservation. I smiled at the receptionist who seemed delighted to hear fluent French while checking under the reservation list. It looked like I still got my skill.
"Ah, cette ta çon, monsieur." Ah, this way sir. He seemed impressed while gladly summoning a waiter to escort us towards our table. Luckily, we were brought by the bar. Sengoku knew exactly where to place me.
We were both seated and I leaned back, enjoying the soft cushions. Luffy immediately jumped on the bread basket that the waiter laid out for us, wolfing those bread loaves and causing the said waiter to fear for life with all of its knowledge on table manners. So far, so good—the night turned out to be the usual. Pretty funny, actually.
I laughed at his reaction while reading through the menu that he handed out shakily. "Alors quoi de special ce soir?" So, what's tonight's special? The waiter looked at me with interest. I was guessing that he had never seen an Irish speak French before.
In his native language, he brought up the menu of a rich Bouillabaisse stew, made by the assistant head chef, which sounded mean and deadly. The waiter also mentioned the other specials such as Risotto aux asperges and St. Jasques—diver sea scallops and shrimp with asparagus risotto—as well as Raie Aux Capres—sautéed skate fish with spinach, julienne vegetables and boiled potatoes in caper sauce. Those, along with a couple of drinks on the side, actually beat Heaven, in my opinion. He also added that if I didn't feel for seafood, then I could try an excellent Duck Confit with an extra siding of French Onion Soup, finely baked in the oven to a cheesy perfection. Well, we had a winner.
I nodded, beaming, "Nous avons tout cela. Ah, et certains Steak Frites, Foié Gras et les escargots?" Luffy probably just caught the names of the food I mentioned. I noticed his eyes sparkling brighter than the stars when I ordered for all the specials, along with the Steak Frites, Foié Gras and some escargots. I thought he was close to tears.
"Oui, oui, monsieur." The waiter carried the now empty bread basket. "Voulez-sir de soins pour certaines boissons?" I didn't need to check the wine list. How could you go wrong with French wine? I asked for their strongest while the waiter took everything down on paper.
"Hey, Shanks, can I have some champagne?" Luffy's hand was raised up and I jabbed his shoulder, smirking. He seemed to know we were ordering the drinks already. I was guessing that the waiter handing out the beverage list was a dead giveaway. Then again, Luffy had a surprising knack for a lot of things.
"You're ten years too young to drink," I pointed.
"I am? No, I'm not!" He pouted.
I enjoyed a nice tease. "Hey, how's about some orange juice?" I offered up. He nodded eagerly and the waiter took this down. I burst out in a fit of laughter, slapping the table.
"Dahahaha—You really are a kid—Dahahaha!" I was gasping in between my snickers. His face flushed angrily which made me want to continue taunting him. It was probably my hobby to get on Luffy's nerves. I got some kicks out of it.
The waiter took down the last note before collecting the menus with a bow. "Vos commandes teront ici bientôt, monsieur." Your orders will be here shortly, sir—and make it snappy. I was just as starved as Luffy—if that was even possible. He left the both of us on our own, and for a while, I watched Luffy daze at others eating. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.
I leaned closer, occupied in conversation. "So, Luffy, how was your first day of school?"
Luffy blinked when I asked and then he answered happily, "It's fun! I like my new school. There are a lot of funny people." He seemed pleased, drinking his orange juice when it came. I took a sip from my drink.
It was good to hear that he wasn't homesick. Then again, what, in Mugiwara High, couldn't please Luffy? I personally double-checked their lunch menus before enrolling him, to be sure that the food was decent.
Going back to the typical checklist of new student issues, it was time to play guidance counselor. "So, you're friends with Usopp and that Nami girl? How do you like them?" Sounding good, I gave myself a nice pat in the back.
He nodded fervently, giggling really. "They're the funniest. They're also nice because they treated me for lunch!"—And, I thought he was the funniest. Yup, he was definitely happy with his new friends. Then again, giving Luffy food was a no-fail method to earning his trust—not always a good thing.
"They're really good friends, Luffy." I smiled. "Usopp's a good kid. I knew him as long as I knew you, since his father, Yasopp, and I—we've gone way back. That Nami over there? She's got a lot ahead of her. I met her parents a couple of times before. Before, they used to serve the government, but now, her father's a fine business man and her mom's a fashion icon. Plus, they're geniuses. No surprise if Nami's one too."
"Shanks, how do you know so many people?" He was treating me like I was a great war hero of some terrible struggle mankind has brought upon itself, carrying many stories that were ready to be told—compliment taken.
"I've got my sources, Luffy." I winked, making myself all the more awesome. As always, Luffy was hooked.
The appetizers came first. There were the escargots—made with butter, olive oil and garlic. The Foié Gras—smoked to add a little flavor—came with it. We both paused from the small talk when these treasures came. Like I said, I knew Luffy for a long time—enough for me to master the art of protecting my share of food. The food was already wiped out as soon as it was served. How? Don't ask me. I could just see the waiter from the side, most likely asking the same question—not a first time thing at all.
"Your order of all tonight's specials with the extra siding of French Onion Soup and an extra order of the Steak Frites." A blonde waiter arrived, pushing a tray of succulent courses that were even designed meticulously for extra appeal. I looked up, pausing from my drink to stare at the surprise guest star. What was this—a party?
He had golden blonde hair with extra locks concealing his left eye. Above his right eye was an oddly curled eyebrow, shaped like a dart board, which was probably part of some new fashion I haven't picked up yet. He was a lean and tall figure, perhaps a little womanly from afar—not that I swing that way. I was able to recognize him despite the change from a high school uniform to a white chef's uniform.
"Sanji, is that you? Blimey, are you hard up on the money already?" I waved at him.
The newspapers weren't kidding about some high school blonde, pretty boy dethroning all the iron chefs of Grand Line City. There's been some talk of a genius chef, Blackleg Sanji, who worked under the world famous chef and owner of the Baratie, Blackleg Zeff. Who knew the assistant head chef of the Baratie was really the same student I was to teach this year?
"Shanks?" He blinked. Good to know that he's gotten the idea of just calling me "Shanks". "Mr. Shanks" didn't cut it. I didn't want to feel old yet—and don't think I dyed my hair red just because I wanted to hide some white strands. It was just naturally red.
"I've been working in the kitchen since I was a boy. I just became the assistant head chef this year," Sanji said while setting the dishes on the table. I happened to notice that Luffy wasn't really paying attention to our conversation. He was just eyeing the food and wondering which dish should be eaten first. Oh, well.
"Let's try your Bouil—Oi! Luffy! Hands off the Bouillabaisse!" I literally threw the steak knife towards his outstretched arm. Luckily, Luffy pulled back just in time—what a relief.
Sanji shifted awkwardly while watching this. "You're new in Grand Line City, right, Shanks?"
I grinned at his direction while taking a few spoonfuls of the Bouillabaisse. "As new as freshly baked French bread. Dahahaha—right, chef? Huh, huh?" I was nudging Sanji's shoulder in a teasing manner. What? Luffy shouldn't be the only guy I can tease. I have two entire batches to rag on for the rest of the school year.
This would be one of those do-or-die situations portrayed in those action movies on the big screen. I felt like I was part of a Mexican standoff—where three guys would point guns at each other and the next move was the key to survival. The only differences—one, it was an entire class and a front door, pointing invisible guns at me, and two, I wasn't really going to die. Still, out of all the different jobs I handled before, teaching was definitely not under my job description. Staring at the classroom door wasn't helping.
A little while ago, I reviewed the profile of this year's Junior Batch. One of the advisers from their previous year was a man named Kaidou, whose profile, as I checked, fit the bill of a convent priest. That wasn't too good of an image. I could only imagine the torture the batch went through last year.
Again, it was do-or-die. Plus, standing mindlessly in front of a door was not cool. Time to suck it up. With that in mind, I entered the room. Suddenly, I realized that the "convent priest" look that I tried to imitate was highly abused now.
What happened to students and teachers over the past few years? Back in my high school days, classrooms weren't that quiet—so quiet that even temple monks would be disturbed. Numerous sets of eyes were glued towards me as I silently walked behind the teacher's desk. I didn't remember students being this quiet to a teacher. Then again, I didn't even remember a quiet moment between me and my teachers.
I set my books on the teacher's desk and watched them. In unison, they all stood up and greeted with a monotone "Ohayo gozaimasu"—a standard greeting if they receive a new teacher without knowing which nationality he or she came from. God, the moment was dull. I opened my mouth, thinking of saying something to lighten the mood.
I thought I spoke—well, I really did. The only problem was my voice. It wasn't words that came out but a shrill, alarm sound, echoing inside the classroom walls. The silence was suddenly replaced by that sound, and students were shrieking while jumping from their seats.
Oh, crap—we must have been under some siege. My heart must have skipped a beat or two as I jumped from my spot, yelping. "Bloody Hell, I can't die yet! I haven't even completed my list of liquor to try—and I'm still a virgin!"
So many things I haven't done yet, so many things waiting for me—and those included the unfinished bottle of sake in the pantry. My knees were definitely shaking. Oh, shit.
"Sensei," a voice interfered. "Sensei, you aren't going to die." Wait, I wasn't?
This must be the voice of my guardian angel. My head moved towards the direction of that voice, only to meet eyes with what I thought was a talking moss ball of a student—whose sharp eyes expressed how dead bored he was. Well, Heaven wasn't always Heaven. The point was I wasn't going to die. The said student pointed at one of his male classmates, who was clenching his phone and looking at me nervously.
"Isn't that the latest model?" I approached him and he stared.
"Sensei, you aren't going to confiscate it?" He was in shock.
"Nah! Sony Ericsson over Nokia!" I laughed while heading to the blackboard. Certain students from the back were cheering at my choice of phones. Well, life was restored in this class.
I wrote my name, both in English and in Japanese hiragana, before sitting on top of my desk and facing the class.
"The name's Shanks, children." I imitated the voice of a professional middle-aged teacher—of course, that doesn't mean I wasn't one myself (minus the middle-aged part).
"I'll be your class adviser and English teacher for this year. Now, to tell you a little bit about myself, I'm Irish, and you're all ten years too young to out-drink me." I laughed. "Well, anyway, it's my first time teaching, so I don't have much to say about myself. If you want to know anything about me, though, feel free to ask."
A few hands rose up. I leaned back, grinning, and then pointed at one hand.
"Just Shanks, sensei?" One student asked.
"It's Shanks! Not sensei, dumb ass! You're making me feel old! Next!" I grumbled while pointing at another hand.
"Shanks, are you really a virgin?" Damn it, did I really say that? Time to pull an act.
"The question is—are you?" Laughter erupted. "Dahahaha—you all fell for it anyway, suckers—dahahaha! Next!" I chuckled, doing my best to hide any hint of insincerity. I pointed at another hand. It was a girl this time. I hoped that this question would make sense.
"Shanks, how old are you?" All the girls were looking at me expectantly. Ah, well, so much for sense.
"You know what? That question is so interesting—I'm not going to answer it!" I winked. A bunch of girls sighed, caught in their own dreams. I still had my charm.
"That's enough questions! Time for a role call!" I've forgotten where I placed my copy of the class list. Time to be creative, then. I looked at the green-haired kid from awhile ago and pointed at him first. "Oi, Moss Ball! What's your name?" Moss Ball seemed to have snapped his pencil in half. Well, I hoped he had a spare.
This went on for about five minutes. I had to think of every creative name and description I could come up with. It went from that moss-head kid named Roronoa Zoro, to that Dart Brow, Blackleg Sanji, until I was beginning to reach some of the more unbelievably normal featured ones—like the fraternal twins of the class, Caimie and Conis, who were poles apart, even for twins.
My eyes found an empty seat but I ignored this. Nico Robin was still in Spain with her sister, no questions needed. Now, I moved to the person seated right next to her desk. A black-haired boy whose sleeping face was pressed against the wooden desk—he was the most interesting.
"Oh, Shanks, Ace is narcoleptic," Sanji said while raising his hand, but I brushed this aside with a shrug.
"Portgas D. Ace, present. Of course, I know he's narcoleptic. Poor sap had to deal with it for a long time now, huh?" I commented. The other students were sending me bewildered stares.
"Shanks, it's like you know Ace," one student pointed.
"I watch the news, fool! Everyone knows that old man of Whitebeard Corporations and his son! Now, what's your name, fancy pants?"
Looking back at the first day of role call, I should have just asked Zoro to help name everyone for me. Too late, I guess.
I was left with Luffy now. Sanji had to rush back to the kitchen to attend to other orders he needed to prepare. While he did that, Luffy and I were both engaged in an epic battle of tug-and-war with the Duck Confit and potatoes. I would have won—if it hadn't been for my cellphone going off and startling me, out of the blue.
"Ah, shit," I cursed to myself while letting Luffy gobble on that nice slice of duck victoriously. I dug through my pocket, pulling out my Sony Ericsson Z780 and noticing the name "Ben Beckman" flashing behind the LED screen.
"Oh, the reception's pretty bad around this area." I pushed my chair back and stood up. "Give me a moment, Luffy—and don't touch that—" Bloody Hell, he just swallowed that entire skate fish. I was guessing that seconds weren't that bad. The bill was charged to Sengoku's wallet, after all—the poor bloke. Luffy was happy, at least.
I headed outside, just by the entrance. The night was chilly, all of a sudden, with no stars in the sky. It was like a bad omen rising. I flipped my phone upwards and pressed it firmly against my ear, hoping that Beckman's voice wouldn't be completely drowned by the tapping noises the weather was creating. Beckman always had a reason to call on nights like these.
"Hey, Ben." This had to be good. That Duck Confit and skate fish inside Luffy's stomach was haunting me.
"Shanks, it happened again. We found another dead body, apparently shot and burnt." Beckman's voice was grave. He meant business. "I'm already here in the Impel Down district, and Lucky's assisting the investigation team. Yasopp's on the way too."
I looked around for any eavesdroppers before responding, "Yeah, I'll be there in a while. Let me just settle the bill to that geezer, Sengoku, then I'll drop Luffy home."
"Is this really the work of the Newgate Family? Hard to believe Edward Newgate still leads mafia to do his work in this place and period—especially when he's considered one of the most powerful men in the world already." He sounded skeptical.
"Ben, we wouldn't even be in this business if the mob didn't exist. Besides, with absolute power, you can rule absolutely. Later, Beckman." I hung up and shut my phone closed. Suddenly, the wind blew harder. Seeing the rain pour heavily on a starless night confirmed what this night meant—it's party time.
~End of the Second Savor
~*~ Omake ~*~
Shanks: . . . –redialing Beckman's number- Do I really have to be there?
Beckman: Yes, Shanks. This is the fifth time you tried to get out of a job this month.
Shanks: B-But... free food—from the BARATIE! The Bara—fucking—tie! Do you even know what tonight's specials are? I have a student in there who can cook anything I damn please or else I'd fail him—and the drinks! THE drinks! FREE DRINKS!
Beckman: See you later, Shanks. –hangs up-
Shanks: ... -deep breath- . . . !
Random chef (who is not Sanji): -inside the kitchen, peeling potatoes- Seigneur, je crois que je viens de sentir le ciel déchirer. (Dear Lord, I think I just felt the sky rip apart.) –shrugs and just continues to peel-
~*~ Omake ~*~