"Beckman."
Benn turned around, nodding in acknowledgment, "Mihawk."
"Where is Shanks?" Mihawk asked, sharp eyes scanning the empty boat, he couldn't sense him on board.
Benn shrugged, "Left this morning, haven't seen him since."
This answer elicited a raised eyebrow. They were in the middle of the sea, a few days away from any islands.
But before he could further question him, shock waves made the boat tremble. He narrowed his eyes, searching for their origin. "Who is he fighting?"
Very few people could make Shanks move and fight, and fewer still could do that without eliciting a newspaper's coverage. Considering the lack of reaction from his crew members, that meant it was a private fight, a friend of his. That narrowed the range to only a handful. And he had a good idea which one it was.
The end of the war might have been a few months ago, but he could still recognize that presence even from far away.
"You should wait for them to finish." Benn commented, walking away from the swordsman, "We've got tea if you'd like." If he saw the way Mihawk's hand twitched to grab his sword, he chose to ignore it. Mihawk wasn't one to interrupt another's fight.
And just as he predicted, Mihawk silently followed him.
A few hours later, a boisterous laugh accompanied the red head's arrival on board. He was drenched in water, his hair slicked back, clothes stuck to his body.
Following him closely behind was Konan, perfectly dry, a few injuries seeming fresh on her skin but overall appearing fine. "You went easy on me."
Shanks simply laughed, "You're getting better at controlling your Haki." He grabbed a towel put conveniently on the edge to dry himself, "You're a fast learner, you'll get the hang of it sooner or later."
Konan nodded. She knew she shouldn't be impatient as it would just slow down her progress but it was frustrating. The enemies she would have to face wouldn't wait for her to grow stronger.
She held her hand in front of her, observing the bandages covering her burnt skin.
Emission and internal destruction using Haki, she knew the theory—projecting her attack using Haki or destroying from the inside. But using them with the broken vessels that were her arms proved a more difficult task than she would have liked.
She didn't mind the roughness of her skin, nor the bumps she could still feel underneath her bandages. She didn't mind the brownish shade her arms had forever taken as their own. The scars were fine, the pain she could endure. What she hated however was how much it weakened her. That, she couldn't accept.
"Paper Angel," a gruff voice said.
She looked up, stiffening when she recognized the person in front of her. "Dracule Mihawk."
"It's good to finally meet you."
"Not sure I feel the same," she raised an eyebrow, Ko's teasing habits resurfacing along with her memories of him visiting her cell once upon a time. Because truthfully, she didn't feel anything negative toward him, only a vague respect toward someone who had risen to the higher spheres of power without abusing his powers.
There was a tense silence which Shanks promptly broke by putting a hand on both of their shoulders, "Now, no fighting, both of you."
Konan shrugged his concern off to raise both of her hands, "I'm injured, I can't fight."
Mihawk stared her up and down before nodding reluctantly, "Another day?"
That earned a laugh from Shanks and a wince from Konan. Should have known he wouldn't give up that easily.
With that out of the way, Shanks and Mihawk started catching up with Konan silently listening in. Mostly catching the name of Luffy's crewmate. Mihawk had taken him in it seemed. It would help him grow before reuniting with Luffy.
By now she had located all of his crewmates, all separated and thrown in different parts of the world, all determined to grow stronger before coming back. To confront the monsters waiting for them in the New World.
She left the two best friends alone to catch up.
Two years seemed like such a long time and yet one year went by in the blink of an eye.
During that time, the pirate known as Konan or Nanko the traitor was deemed dead. Buried six feet underneath. Her bounty disappeared from circulation, and rumors died down.
No one grieved her death, people moved on. Some doubted the news at first but over time, with a lack of movement, it was forgotten.
Only a few sharp ones, a few doubtful and hopeful ones continued thinking the opposite.
On a peacefully sailing boat where chatters and laughter filled the walls, a bit further down, deeper down the corridors, away from sight, in that dark and silent cabin, one woman opened her eyes. She stretched calmly, rolling back her shoulders amidst the piles of papers stretched around her.
A knock cut through the silence. Before she even opened her mouth the door opened. "Food is ready."
"Thanks Shanks." She nodded before getting up, clenching her hand, making all the papers merge with the floor.
They made their ways up the stairs, as he filled her up on what their future plans were. "With Sengoku planning to step down, things are about to get heated, we'll probably be on the down for the time being-" he paused when he saw her frown. "Everything alright?"
She groaned as she felt her hair brush against her neck and back with each step. "I should probably cut them."
He hummed, "Your hair?"
She nodded, they would nearly reach her lower back if left alone. It was starting to bother her.
He glanced at them before shrugging, "They're pretty, it would be a shame... but if you really want to, I can cut them for you."
"... Akainu will probably be the next Fleet Admiral," she commented with a deeper frown. "That won't be pretty."
Shanks simply chuckled, "It won't." He paused, glancing at her bandaged arms. She had regained an impressive amount of control over her arms. But he could never forget the blind rage he had felt when he first saw her bloodied state, her lone figure dripping with blood and standing still. As much as he itched to cut that asshole's arms, he respected her wishes. She would do it herself.
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here's to another year yay 2024 :D
thank you for continuing to read this story :)