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It started with the cabbage seeds.
Hawkeyes brought out packets of them one day and told Ace, his brothers, as well as Sanji that they would be preparing a plot of land to grow this vegetable. The seed trays were brought out and each seed was segregated into a cell, buried into moist brown beds. The trays were watered daily and kept a close eye for any green sprouts.
The glazed earthenware jars came next, all five of them lined up in a row inside the wine cellar and covered with a flat lid. They are wide and stand about as tall as Ace’s hip, coloured in a brown so dark they look almost black. When Sanji asked Hawkeyes about their purpose, he was told that they would be used in making a dish called kimchi. The cabbages they had planted would first be harvested, then cleaned and coated with a spicy paste before being left to ferment in the jars for a few days.
The prospect of being able to try a new type of food had fired the boys up for work. Sanji in particular was most interested in the dish. He had never heard of kimchi during his time at the Baratie and expressed a desire to learn the recipe. Hawkeyes had taken his endless questions with grace, answering them with a knowing smile and a “You’ll find out more once we start making it.”
While waiting for the seeds to sprout, an area of land had to be tilled in preparation for the seedlings to be transplanted. Since cabbages do not enjoy being grown beside grapes, they had to be planted in a different location from the vineyard. But before the land could be tilled, the human occupants of Kuraigana had to challenge the Humandrills for more territory. The only ones they had occupied until then had been the castle and its grounds, as well as the vineyard.
With Hawkeyes participating, the fight ended anti-climatically. When the four boys showed up in their territory, the Humandrills were agitated and rearing for a brawl. But once they noticed the Warlord’s figure behind them, they immediately became subdued, timid. A hand reaching for Yoru’s hilt sent them scattering to the winds. Since the apes might come back to retake their territory, the four boys guarded their claimed land around the clock, chasing away any who dared to come close until all of them had learnt to stay away.
Once the seedlings had grown approximately seven centimetres tall, the next task was to transplant them onto the ground to mature. The boys carefully mimicked Hawkeye’s actions as he cautiously pulled the seedlings out of their cells and placed them into holes a quarter of an inch deep before covering their roots with soil. The seedlings were spaced out about thirty centimetres apart.
Besides taking care of the vineyard, there was now the additional chore of looking after the cabbages as well. Being the earliest to rise in the castle, Hawkeyes would always be the first to check on the vegetables. He would remove any weeds, prune the leaves of the plants and remove any pests that had been feeding on them. The boys all agreed that the Warlord was paying more attention to the cabbages than the grapes. It was strange but it was not the first time Hawkeyes had obsessed over something.
Eighty days later, rows of enormous green roses covered the once barren soil. When Mihawk reached over to squeeze the cabbage heads, he was satisfied that they were firm to the touch. It was time to harvest them.
One by one, the vegetables were pulled from the ground and placed into baskets before being hauled back to the castle. Mihawk split the boys into teams of two. Ace and Sanji were responsible for washing and cutting the cabbages into quarters while Sabo and Luffy were tasked with salting them, which was the first step of making kimchi.
As they waited for the cabbage leaves to soften, Hawkeyes started making the kimchi’s spicy paste in a small bowl. From the slip of paper the Warlord had shown him, Sanji learned that the paste is composed of red chilli pepper flakes, garlic, ginger, anchovy fish sauce, fermented salted shrimp, radish and scallions.
It took a few tries to get the taste right; the recipe listed vague measurements for the ingredients. As soon as Hawkeyes was satisfied with the flavour of the paste, the ratio of ingredients that make up the successful batch was scaled up. Sanji made sure to note down all of the details in case his captain wished to eat it once they had set off on their own journeys.
Once the paste was made, it came the time to apply it. Grabbing one of the quartered cabbage heads, Mihawk showed the boys how to spread the red substance on each leaf, ensuring that they were thoroughly coated before setting the cabbage aside in another tub. The four gathered around the large pile of cabbages, dipped a hand into the paste and got to work.
When the tub of completed cabbages was full, Mihawk took it down to the wine cellar and arranged the cabbages inside the earthenware jars. This is where the final ingredient in kimchi would be added: time. The cabbages were left to ferment in the jars for the next few days until they had acquired a sour taste. Coincidentally, when Mihawk declared the kimchi ready to eat nearly a week later, Shanks came to visit Kuraigana Island.
“Honey, I’m home!” A familiar voice echoed through the castle. Moments later, Shanks appeared in the kitchen carrying a crate under an arm. His face lit up and his smile broadened when he saw his husband. Walking up to him, he wound his free arm around Mihawk’s waist and gave him their customary greeting: a kiss so full of passion it made the boys—sans Luffy—look away awkwardly.
“Welcome home,” Mihawk replied with a warm smile when they parted for air. “And happy birthday, beloved.”
“Happy birthday to you too, my love.” Shanks set the crate down onto the kitchen counter, keeping his arm around his partner. “I brought your favourite wine, shall we open a bottle to drink later?
“Wait—it’s your birthdays today?” Luffy exclaimed, staring gobsmacked at the two adults.
“Yeah! Isn’t it funny that we’re born exactly four years apart?”
“Why didn’t you tell us about it earlier? I would have been able to bake a cake for you!” Sanji complained. Ace, Sabo and Luffy nodded in agreement.
“I’m sorry for not telling you about our birthdays, we didn’t want you boys to make a big fuss about it. Ever since Mihawk and I got into a relationship, March ninth became a day about us. It didn’t feel right to spend it with other people, so we chose to celebrate it only with each other.” Shanks pressed his lips briefly on his partner’s temple. His heart relished at the affectionate look he received in return.
“But we can still give you presents right?” Luffy asked tentatively.
Shanks reached over to ruffle his hair fondly. “As if I’m gonna say no to presents! So what’s for dinner?”
“It’s a surprise for you,” Mihawk replied as he stepped away from his spouse. He placed an apron over his head and tied the straps behind his back.
The mere mention of a surprise had intrigued Shanks. “Already looking forward to it!”
As Mihawk went about preparing his secret dish, Shanks kept a sharp eye on the ingredients he was using. Though he was able to identify a few, he wasn’t able to guess what his lover was making until he removed a long red item from a large earthenware jar beside the kitchen island. The pungent smell it gave off tickled at his memories. Then his eyes widened.
Wait. It can’t be.
Shanks stood up abruptly and slapped his palms on the dining table. The chair he was sitting on screeched and nearly toppled backwards. “No way! How did you...?”
“Lucky Roux was able to obtain the recipe for me. I apologise if the flavour of mine does not match the one you’ve tasted on that island. The recipe did not come with clear instructions on measurements,” Mihawk explained as he set about chopping the cabbage into bite-sized pieces. He repeated his action for the next one.
Shanks walked around the kitchen island to stand next to his husband. He took another look at the ingredients displayed on the counter: eggs, green onions, mushrooms, rice and last but not least, kimchi. It finally hit him what kind of dish Mihawk was making.
"Kimchi fried rice?" Shanks gasped, staring at him in shock.
His lover hummed in agreement, lips curling slightly at the corners. "Go sit down, it will be ready soon."
Head in a daze, the redhead did just that. From his seat, he watched as Mihawk clicked on the gas stove before placing a wok on it. After ensuring that it was appropriately hot, he coated the wok with oil and tossed the chopped kimchi in. There was a loud sizzle and a cloud of steam erupted from it. Shanks’ nostrils flared as he hungrily inhaled the unique sour tang of the fermented cabbages. His mouth watered.
After a quick stir with a spatula, bacon joined the party. As it cooked, its fatty meaty aroma intermingled and harmonised with the fragrance of the kimchi. Mushrooms, rice and green onions were subsequently added before the flavours were highlighted with a drizzle of sesame oil. To polish off the dish, a sunny side up egg—a sphere of golden yellow sitting on a bed of milky white—was laid atop the mountain of rice.
Shanks could only stare when the plate was finally set before him. An endless trail of steam wafted from the rice and its fragrance assaulted his nose. His stomach gave a small gurgle. With a slightly trembling hand, he grasped the spoon and cut it into the egg. A viscous golden liquid spewed from the yolk and coated the surrounding rice. The redhead swallowed his saliva and scooped up a portion of it.
Shanks could feel a set of eyes boring into him.
He brought the spoon towards his mouth and closed his lips around it.
Flavours exploded on his taste buds.
Right at once, the redhead could detect the distinct sour notes of the kimchi underneath the creamy yolk. It burst forth more prominently with every chew. Aside from that, there was the subtle sweetness from the rice, the crunch of the cabbages, the saltiness of the bacon, and the umami of the chewy mushrooms.
The taste was familiar, similar enough to the one he had eaten on that island. Yet they were new at the same time, a sign of Mihawk’s touch.
The kimchi fried rice was delicious.
It was perfect.
As Shanks continued to chew, he could see in his mind’s eye the furrow of Mihawk's eyebrow, the pensive twist of his lips and the frustrated set of his jaw as he tried again and again, past failure after failure, to recreate the taste of the dish Shanks once told him about in a letter written months ago.
Tears welled up in his eyes and overflowed down his cheeks. His mouthful of food moved down his tightened throat with great difficulty, igniting a sharp ache as they did.
“Shanks?” his husband; ever-devoted, loyal and loving, called his name in alarm. Mihawk hurried over to his side, worry prominent on his face. “I’m sorry, it must have tasted wrong somehow. I should have gone to the island to learn the recipe myself instead of relying on a piece of paper. Let me make you another meal—”
Shanks quickly grabbed his lover’s wrist before he could touch his plate. Another hand fisted his collar and dragged him down into a hard kiss that tasted of salt.
“I love you, Mihawk,” Shanks said when they broke apart. His voice shook and cracked under the overwhelming flood of affection he had for this man; his life’s mate, the keeper of his heart, the reflection of his soul. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Mihawk blinked at Shanks in stunned confusion. Slowly, he lifted his free hand and gently brushed away the tear tracks with his thumb. Golden irises studied his partner’s expression before turning to the plate of rice. “You...like it?”
“It’s perfect.” Shanks let go of his husband’s shirt and wrist to cup his face. He pressed another kiss onto his lips. “You’re perfect.”
“You cried.”
“I was touched. Wouldn’t you cry too when you found out your husband willingly went through so much just to replicate a dish his partner once mentioned it was his favourite?” Although Mihawk remained silent, Shanks could tell that he agreed with his question.
His lover stared into his eyes for a moment longer before sighing fondly. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Shanks’ forehead. “First you weep over the lobsters I made for you, now you’re shedding tears over a plate of fried rice. What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me, feed me, and never leave me?” came Shanks’ quick response. To make his offer more appealing, the redhead widened his eyes and pushed his bottom lip out in a pout.
Mihawk let out a huff of laughter and nipped the protruding lip. “If I must.”
Shanks beamed at his husband. Then he sniffed, nose runny.
Mihawk narrowed his eyes at the sound. He reached for a box of napkins on the dining table and handed them over to the redhead. “How do you expect to taste the rice now that your nose is clogged?”
Shanks gave him an unapologetic grin before blowing his nose. “Hey, where are the kids?” He looked around for any sign of the four boys. Even the table was devoid of their food.
“They must have left the moment you pulled me into a kiss. You know how they are with our displays of affection.” Mihawk replied as he returned to his seat, starting on his share of the kimchi fried rice.
There was a lull in the conversation as the couple consumed their meals, feet intertwined underneath the table. As they were washing up their dishes after dinner, Shanks remarked, “I still can’t believe you made kimchi from scratch just for the fried rice.”
“I grew the cabbages for it as well. There are four more jars of kimchi, take three with you when you leave.”
Shanks almost put a crick in his neck at the speed with which he turned his head. “You what?!”
After another round of tears and reassurances, the couple relocated to their bedroom. The boys were conspicuously absent from theirs. The two men ensconced themselves in a pillow fort they had built in front of the fireplace, trading tender touches and words of affection as they cuddled together.
“Please tell me when you’re going to do something like this again, okay? I want to better prepare myself the next time it happens,” Shanks joked, tracing his nose against a hickey he had left on his husband’s neck.
“I was thinking of planting cocoa trees next year—”
“By the seas, Mihawk!” Shanks basked in his partner’s laughter before connecting their lips. “At least let me help you to plant them. I feel bad letting you do all the work while I reap the rewards.”
“So long as you don’t complain about being worked to the bone.”
“I promise!”