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Shanks comes to with a jerk and a loud cough. Stomach acid mixed with salt water splatters on the warm sand beneath him as someone manhandles him onto his side, leaving his throat feeling like shards of glass had made their way up instead.
He remembers the wind throwing his small sloop about as he crashed over Reverse Mountain, he remembers banging his bruised fists against the door to Crocus’s lighthouse only to be met with silence. He remembers sailing into a storm and the tear of the sails and the loud crack of the only mast snapping.
“There you go,” a gentle voice hums beside him as he rolls onto his stomach and struggles to get his arms under him.
The waves had overtaken the hull and the whole sloop had capsized, taking him under with it. And now he’s here, wheezing with a sharp pain in his chest.
A hand pats his back in reassurance. Pulling him up into a sitting position, someone holds out a yellow object. As his hands brush against it, he grabs tightly, vision finally clearing enough to see it. His straw hat.
“Alright now?” The voice from before asks, a new face entering his line of sight.
Blond hair going white with age, crows feet and laughter lines ageing his face and distorting the black lines under his right eye. The same mark, or tattoo Shanks figures, is also underneath his lower lip, faded grey with time.
Shanks can’t really speak, just nodding and the stranger gives him a reassuring grin. The stranger then stands and holds out a hand, helping Shanks struggle to his feet. Shanks dusts himself off with one shaky hand, the other placing his hat firmly on his head. With all that done, he looks out at his new surroundings.
Bits and pieces of driftwood litter the ground around him, the wreckage of his boat, Shanks realizes. It’s useless now, just soaked wood too wet to even keep a fire going. The sand is golden and the blue waves glimmer in the sunlight. A summer island?
“Where am I?” Shanks asks, testing the waters with his new saviour.
“Welber Island,” the man replies, perfectly calm. “Near the start of the Grand Line.”
Shanks gives a forlorn look at his ruined sloop before turning back to the man with a soft sigh.
“Is there a way off?”
The man just chuckles, gesturing for Shanks to follow him.
“Our port doesn’t see a lot of traffic, but there’s the occasional merchant ship that docks and drops off commodities,” he points further off to where a tiny ship yard sits. “Not a lot of sailors on the island, only some fishermen and they don’t go too far.”
There’s a sadness in his voice that Shanks doesn’t know what to do with. So he keeps his mouth shut.
“Where were you heading anyway?” The man asks, curious.
Shanks doesn’t have an answer for him. Instead, he lets silence fill the air and they keep walking. They make it to the docks where only four boats linger, barely bigger than his own was. There’s people milling about as fishermen unload small hauls from their morning trips and the beginnings of a small market come into view.
“Old man!” Someone calls out and the man beside him chuckles good-naturedly, waving over at them. He leads Shanks up to one of the locals, an older woman with her silver hair in a braid. She raises an eyebrow at the unfamiliar face.
“And who do we have here?” She questions.
“Found him washed up on the beach,” the man beside him says. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Shanks,” he gets out. Surely such a small town wouldn’t recognise his name. Right?
“Cute,” the old woman replies. “Well, I’m guessing you’ll be wanting off our humble island, no?”
Shanks ducks his head. “Sure.”
“I’m sure Old Man Yorki here has explained that we don’t get a lot of visitors, but there should be another merchant ship in a week or two, if you’re truly determined to leave. They usually head to Drum Kingdom. And there’s a lot more ships that cross that port.”
Shanks nods, thankful for the information.
“Yorki,” she prompts. From beside him, Yorki huffs, giving her a broad smile.
“Of course,” he replies. “I can put you up in my spare room until one of those ships comes into port, kid.”
Shanks blinks.
“You’d… do that?”
“Sure,” Yorki says with a laugh. “I know what it’s like, washing up ashore.” He waves Shanks towards the hills, where smaller cottages dot the grassy inclines. “Could use a bit of help getting things up and down the hill, anyhow. With your young bones, it’d make hauling my wears to the market much easier.”
Shanks considers it.
“Okay.”
Yorki, for all his ragged looks and carefree nature, has a fairly decent house close to the base of the hill. It’s not a flat walk by any means, but it’s a lot better than he was dreading. The cottage itself is quaint and small, painted white and yellow, with wildflowers overflowing the gardens. Entering, he has to dodge canvases of paintings. But, when he reaches the kitchen, he’s grateful to find it clean.
“Sorry for the mess,” Yorki apologizes casually. As he says this, he places his few products on the counter, nothing in desperate need of refrigeration, so Shanks doesn’t touch it either.
“It’s fine,” he chooses his words carefully.
“How old are you?” Yorki picks up the conversation when Shanks seems hesitant to push.
“Fifteen,” Shanks answers.
“And out at sea by yourself?” Yorki asks with a laugh. “Wow, I didn’t hit the seas until I was twenty-three.”
As he says that, he gazes out the window where a perfect view of the deep blue is visible.
“Yeah…” Shanks trails off.
“Your parents?” Yorki hums with a raised eyebrow.
“Dad…” Shanks looks away. “He died.”
He can’t get the sight of Roger’s head rolling out of his mind.
“And mom…” He hasn’t seen Rayleigh in months. “Mom had a breakdown,” he goes with. “I… I had a fight with my brother and we split up.”
“So where are you going?”
Yorki has a serious look on his face.
“I…”
Home? Where is that? The Oro Jackson, retired away at Water 7? In Sabaody with Rayleigh?
Where could he even go? Would Oden take him in Wano? If he could even make it that far. Gaban? Where is he anyway?
Should he have stayed there, in Loguetown, looked harder for Buggy? Tried to reason with him?
“I don’t know.”
Yorki hums. “Yeah, I get that.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Neither does Shanks.
Yorki sells his paintings, Shanks finds. But not all of them. Some remain, half-finished or framed, tucked away further down the hall, past the room Shanks sleeps in. He doesn’t explore the house too much, just the bare necessities. It’s not particularly big, but he’s still not rude enough to set foot in Yorki’s room or his locked-up storeroom.
There isn’t a lot to do, though. Yorki, despite Shanks’s protests, gives him some pocket change for the work he does, and with it Shanks purchases a new sword and some new clothes. Boots come next, those he has to save for, but they’re good quality so it’s worth it.
It’s as Yorki is sitting outside, painting at an easel that Shanks wanders over.
“Want to have a try?” Yorki asks without looking up. The painting depicts the sea, as most of his do, but with a figure standing there, waving about a violin bow cheerfully. The details are still forming but Shanks can make out curly hair and a vaguely painted suit waiting to be highlighted, alongside the beginnings of a wide grin. There’s a pinch in Yorki’s brow. Frustration.
“I’ve never painted before,” Shanks admits. Not a lot of time when you’re sailing on the open seas.
Yorki laughs. “I hadn’t either before I came here. But someone gave me an old kit of supplies and I must’ve looked pretty pathetic back then.”
Sliding off the stool he’d dragged outside, Yorki tugs the incomplete painting off the easel and carries it inside. Returning, he places a completely blank one on there and ushers Shanks into the seat.
“Go on, whatever you want to paint. Whether it be the sea or just some lines. Try it.”
He does.
He’s awful, really, and the oil paints get all over his fingers, staining them different colors. But he thinks of Roger seeing his pitiful work and laughing and patting him on the back and he keeps going. The shapes are all the wrong sizes, and he has no idea how to blend let alone highlight, but the painting turns out more than just stick figures so he considers it a win in his book.
Buggy’s face is wonky and wrong, but Shanks likes to think that Buggy would treasure it all the same. Even if he would be yelling at Shanks all the while.
Yorki stores it with all the others like it belongs with the masterpieces that Yorki himself creates, and it’s touching, really. It’s also the first time he ever sets foot in Yorki’s storage room.
Most of the paintings that are clearly collecting dust feature that man, some with the canvas half empty. One depicts a whale and the man lying on its head as if it’s rescuing him. It’s close to the back corner, where there’s a small display of things that decidedly aren’t paintings.
An old, faded and worn jolly roger stares back at him, horns on the head of the skull, eyes holes triangle shaped, and the upper skull reaching a flat stop before the teeth and jaw are depicted, more narrow and boxy.
Beside it are a collection of aged papers. He steps over, like he’s possessed, and picks one up. It depicts the man in Yorki’s paintings. A top hat balanced on dark, thick curls, small sunglasses barely covering eyes under a prominent scar on the man’s head. The man is reaching for something off-camera and is either laughing or shouting, mouth open wide.
The name written is simply ‘Brook’ and is wanted for 33 million berri. Shanks thinks of Roger’s terrifying 5.6 billion berri bounty and pushes it to the back of his mind. Instead, he places it down carefully.
Behind him, Yorki has stopped and Shanks feels his gaze as Shanks picks up the second one. The picture is a side profile, blond hair half hidden by a white cowboy hat, a green captain’s coat barely visible from the angle.
The tattoos are stark in contrast to those now, darker and more pronounced. There’s a half-smirk half grin on his face, eyes narrowing in on something unseen.
And below, in bold letters, is…
‘Calico’ Yorki
57 million berri
Shanks feels Yorki’s hand cover his own and he lets the paper go, it fluttering back down onto the small desk propped up in the corner where all the others sit. One hand shifts to be placed firmly on Shanks’s shoulder while the other fixes up the papers and then reaches over, placing an old and dirty cowboy hat on top of them.
“You don’t hate pirates, do you?”
Yorki’s voice is quiet, careful.
Shanks turns his head to make eye contact with Yorki, the man’s eyebrows raised.
“No.”
As they eat dinner, Shanks pries some stories out of Yorki and the man relents, telling him of the great adventures of the Rumbar Pirates, starting from over thirty years ago. He talks about their sailing of the west blue, of his first mate, Brook, and how wonderful his music was. He talks about singing and dancing and his love of the sea.
“Brook’s first love was music, mine was the sea, and we were each other’s second loves so we compromised,” Yorki says with a wistful laugh. “Even made it to the grandline, huh?” His expression shifts.
“What happened?” Shanks tries. He knows not all pirate crews split up like the Roger Pirates did. Often they’ll get wiped out.
“We made it, but we had to leave one of our crew behind at the Twin Capes. He wasn’t even supposed to follow us that far, too young and small, but we managed to leave him there. For his safety. We promised to return to him in three years. But that…”
Taking a sip of his whiskey, he hums. “I got sick,” Yorki starts. “Couldn’t stay with the crew, it was contagious and deadly. So I left with a small boat and ended up in the Drum Kingdom. Got helped out by an old witch of a doctor, who cured me right up. But… by then news of the Rumbar Pirates was practically non-existent. I left Brook in charge.”
Wincing, Shanks sips from his own cup of juice, despite being fully capable of downing liquor.
“I went out looking for them, I really did, and that’s how I ended up here.”
“And you never left?” Shanks probes, thinking of his longing to get back on the sea.
Yorki sighs. “I wanted to… I really did. But I couldn’t set sail again. Not without my crew. And I had no idea where to start.”
Shanks frowns but doesn’t comment further.
They’re down, sitting at the tiny dock one afternoon, watching uselessly for a ship. It’d be nice, Shanks thinks, but he hasn’t had any luck with that the whole month he’s spent on Welber Island.
That’s when Shanks tells him.
“My dad…” he starts. “He was a pirate.”
Yorki lets him speak.
“He gave me this hat. It belonged to him. Found me in a treasure chest, he said,” Shanks continues, huffing out an awkward laugh. “He was the greatest and freest pirate out there. And they executed him for it. Right there… I saw it happen.”
He finds himself leaning into Yorki a little and the man tucks an arm around Shanks’s shoulder in comfort.
“The whole crew fell apart. I was just a cabin boy,” Shanks mumbles. “I had nowhere to go. Ray… he was like a mom… he just… broke I think. He was Captain’s… dad’s oldest friend. His first mate. But then everything was…” He curls his knees up to his chest. “And Buggy, my brother, just a fellow cabin boy but we really were… we fought. And he said he’d make his own crew. And I said the same. And then I sailed over Reverse Mountain by myself. I…”
Gazing down at the water below, Shanks tries to gather his words.
“I wanted to go home. But I didn’t know where that was anymore.”
Yorki hums softly. “It’s the sea. But she’s not always so straightforward. You need someone to keep you afloat.”
“Don’t you mean ‘something’,” Shanks attempts.
Yorki laughs.
“Not quite.”
Frowning, Shanks huffs and stands. “...Calico Yorki, formerly of the Rumbar Pirates, will you accept my offer to become a member of my crew?” He reaches down and Yorki takes his hand with a laugh.
“Shanks,” Yorki speaks, a lazy grin pulling his lips. “You come back with a ship and a crew behind you, and I’ll set foot on a boat again.”
He takes Shanks’s hand and shakes it firmly.
“It’s a promise.”
“It is.”
A week later, a trading ship pulls into port and Shanks packs up his meagre belongings he’s amassed. Yorki glances at the few paintings Shanks did, but he shakes his head.
“Look after them for me, for when I come back,” Shanks says, confident.
Yorki just laughs.
Shanks travels from merchant boat to marine, stowing away when he can. And eventually, he makes it back to the east blue. Buying a small caravel from Syrup Village, he meets another young man whose heart calls to the sea, with the other part of his heart belonging to a woman with feet firmly planted on land. Shanks tells him he’ll come back.
He meets Benn, who becomes his rock, and then Lucky Roo, and then he reunites with Yassop. They get a bigger ship, more crew mates, and cross reverse mountain. He wants to pick up Yorki. But something in him tells him it’s not time yet.
So he sails down the grandline a little, gaining a bounty even higher than Yorki’s. And as he does, he wonders if news will have gotten to Yorki about his bounty, about the new scars on his face and the jolly roger proudly showcasing them.
They cross back into the east and he sets up at Dawn Island. Meet a young boy who Benn suspects is an orphan. And Shanks sees what Yorki had seen in him. Someone to care for. Someone to guide.
So Shanks looks after the boy when he’s there, tries not to rub off too many bad habits, and forbids Anchor from going with them. He steals a legendary fruit on one of trips away and it finds its way into sticky fingers, the disgusting taste not putting its eater off one bit.
He berates Luffy all the same, despite knowing that zoan fruits pick their holders and there was nothing getting between the Nika fruit and little anchor's greedy appetite.
One time, leaning against the mast of his ship, he wonders what Buggy is up to. What Rayleigh is doing, retired as he is. Did he settle down with that woman from Amazon Lily? The one that Roger couldn't stop laughing about when he found out that Shakky was the former empress, fallen sick with love for the hopeless Dark King Rayleigh.
Did that make her his step-mom, Shanks wonders.
And Buggy, the posters in Shells Town show off a Clown with a 15 million berri bounty and Shanks feels a little wistful. Buggy is a big fish in a small pond and he wonders if his brother truly is satisfied with that. Could he have changed something if he'd looked for Buggy instead of stupidly crashing over the grandline?
Not that it really matters anymore. He can't change anything.
Luffy picks a fight with bandits, those that spoke poorly of the Red-Haired Pirates. Shanks’s bounty and power exceed the bandits so much that he never considered them a source of danger, but Luffy is a child. And not like Shanks, raised in the middle of wars and battles and the sea.
So they use Luffy to get to him and Shanks seethes at every mark and cut maring Luffy's skin. He might be rubber but he's not invincible. With Nika still slumbering, the effect may as well be that of a low-level paramecia.
Lucky Roo takes out the one pointing a gun directly at Shanks’s head and Benn picks up the fight, beating the men with the butt of his rifle without hesitation. They'd let the men go before, but they ain't saints and they're not about to excuse this.
In the chaos, the leader scampers off, with Luffy still in his grasp. That eventually leads to the Sea King and a missing arm, Luffy screaming in distress and Nika whining through his voice about that that is his getting hurt. He brushes it off.
It's something Roger would have done. It's something Yorki would do. So Shanks thinks it's the right choice.
He leaves Luffy with his hat, a promise, and that tricky sun God sleeping deep in Anchor's heart. And he tries not to feel guilty about the target he paints on Luffy's back. Although if he aims to follow in Roger’s footsteps, Shanks’s additions might not make much of a difference.
He sails over Reverse Mountain, pays little attention to Crocus and a fair amount to the whale still bashing its head against the Red Line itself. Laboon, Yorki has named it and Shanks riles up his men to sing Bink’s Sake just like Crocus and then Yorki taught him.
Huh, so that's where he got it. Crocus stands there, staring at him with wide eyes and Shanks remembers when he told Roger that he'd only join for one reason. To find an old pirate crew who he cared deeply for.
If Yorki wants to come back, Shanks will happily oblige. He remembers everything Crocus did for him and that night when he banged on the lighthouse door for hours and got no response didn't change things.
Even so, he continues on, sailing with his crew at his back and a ship under his feet and they navigate their way to Welber Island. It’s been a good twelve years since he’s seen the old man, and Shanks hopes that Yorki’s still up for it. When they dock, it’s to the shock and horror of the island’s occupants, with the black flag scaring locals off the small docks. So Shanks himself disembarks first, waving for his men to stay back.
Miss Jane, only twenty when he stayed with Yorki, who used to sneak him extra sweet bread when she helped out her family business, recognises him first. Then Old Mrs Mary and Mr Jack, the old couple who ran the butchery, who call his name with delight. He gives them a wide grin, looking to see John, who’d been a little six-year-old, now eighteen and looking every bit like his father, staring perplexed at his face from where he’s fallen in his small fishing boat.
Miss Jane rushes over, smiling. “You came back!”
Shanks nods idly. “Just stopping by. Is old man Yorki about, by any chance?”
Miss Jane laughs but shakes her head.
“He’s home, although he’s probably seen the jolly roger. He always did tell us that pirates would come one day. Didn’t say it’d be you, though.”
Shanks snorts. “Well, we made a promise.”
She lets him go and he takes Benn and Yasopp up the hill to see Yorki, but hesitates at the white fence.
“Old friend?” Benn prods. Shanks hadn’t exactly told them why they had docked.
“Sure,” Shanks replies idly. “I’ll explain later.”
Used to their captain’s whims, the pair agree to stay there and let Shanks go through the gate with no fuss. Shanks almost tries to knock with his left hand before grimacing and raising his right. Three solid knocks get the attention of whoever’s still inside and the door swings open.
Yorki still looks as spry as he did when he was sixty-five, with a few extra wrinkles and lines adding character to his face, tattoos further faded than last time. All Shanks wants to do is sink into an embrace with his old mentor.
“Yorki,” Shanks greets with a breath. Yorki blinks, eyes wide, before he leans back in a full, guttural laugh.
“Shanks! I knew that pirate ship I saw must’ve been yours,” Yorki says. “I guess you want me to make good on my promise?”
“I bought you a ship and a crew,” Shanks points out and Yorki laughs again.
“Of course. So, how about you help me pack my things, huh?”
Yorki’s expression then falls. He’d seen the scars but scars are a pirate’s pride.
“Where’s your hat?”
“I gave it to someone important,” Shanks responds.
Yorki’s eyes then trail down to his arm. Or, more specifically, where his arm should be.
“Shanks.”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your arm?”
Yorki asks if they could haul several of his paintings to the ship, if only to sell them at the next island they hit. And Shanks isn’t adverse to that, because more money and the chance for Yorki’s work to see somewhere further than the tiny island they’ve been restricted to. Yorki brings out the first of Shanks’s paintings, the one he did so many years ago, and Benn, who’d come in to see what he was up to, laughs while Shanks’s face goes crimson.
“So we’ve got a new crewmate, Shanks?” Yasopp asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yep,” Shanks responds cheerfully, pretending he hasn’t had an earful from Yorki about not losing arms and such. “Yorki looked after me when I was young. And he was a pirate long before that. Lost his old crew, wanted to find out what happened. And we made a promise.”
“If he came back with a ship and a crew, I’d join him,” Yorki finishes, packing up his art supplies with ease. “So here I am, joining him.”
Shanks reaches a painting as he sorts through them and freezes. It’s another one of the ocean, but blocking out the view is a figure facing the sea. Bright red and dark tones contrast with the yellow and gold. A white and loose long sleeve and black shorts clothe the figure and Shanks laughs. Because it’s him. Yorki painted him, whether when he was living there or after, and kept it, kept it safe all these years.
The old bounty posters of the Rumbar Pirates are tucked away behind the glass frame of another painting, and inside also goes the old flag. Finally, the cowboy hat, which Yorki picks up with a wistful smile and then places it on his head.
“Calico Yorki is officially rejoining the pirate world,” Yorki says with a laugh. And Shanks quickly joins him.
The open seas suit Yorki, for all that little cottage did as well. He was a captain, but he has no qualms about following Shanks’s orders and for his age, he seems to struggle very little with those simple tasks. They sing every night and drink and party across Paradise and Yorki tells him, quietly, that he’d never gotten this far.
Water 7 has them with a new ship, the Red Force, and he thanks Tom and the man laughs cheerfully, remembering him from his Roger days. The Oro Jackson is gone, and Shanks mourns her just a little, but the Red Force drives him forward.
Docking at Sabaody is surreal, because he finally sees Rayleigh again and the old man looks better, married to his darling sweetheart Shakky who ruffles his hair as he enters his bar. The red-haired pirates spread across the bar cheerfully, sharing drinks and chatting in booths while Shanks and Yorki sit up at the counter with Rayleigh.
Shanks tells Rayleigh he saw Crocus. Rayleigh laughs. Shanks tells Rayleigh that Yorki was the one Crocus was looking for. Rayleigh doesn’t laugh then.
“He talked a lot about you guys,” Rayleigh admits to Yorki, sipping his drink. “Real firm on his conviction, he wouldn’t come unless we looked for the Rumbar Pirates. Roger saw it as a challenge to be overcome. And, trust me, he tried,” Rayleigh sighs. “But we’d looked far further into Paradise, and even into the New World. Didn’t even consider that you’d be so close.”
Yorki laughs. “Well, I guess I could have gone to see him myself, but it doesn’t feel right to do that when I don’t know what happened to my former crew. Once I know, I’ll see Crocus again. And Laboon.”
Rayleigh, the old man, laughs again and they drink into the night. They depart Sabaody with a new painting hanging on Shakky’s wall, one of the sea and what Shanks thinks might be Yorki’s old ship. Shanks wonders if it’s supposed to be a message to any Rumbar Pirates still sailing in the world.
They cross the New World as the years tick by and Whitebeard laughs alongside them as both old-timers share stories of days long past, of the pirate world before Roger, before Laugh Tale and the One Piece. And Shanks listens, because he’s heard them all before but he likes listening to Yorki talk. As he talks about his crew and Laboon and Welber Island and meeting Shanks. Shanks’s crew laugh and jeer but Benn just pats him on the shoulder and that soothes his bruised pride and embarrassment.
And then they set off. Shanks becomes a Yonko and all his top commanders get giant bounty increases. And Yorki’s bounty is unfrozen for the world to see. Shanks wonders if Crocus gets the newspaper. If he’ll see Yorki’s grinning new bounty photo and laugh.
The voicemail from Rayleigh consisting of a solid three minutes of laughter is appreciated.
Vaguely, he wonders about Buggy, about Luffy, about Gaban who’s still missing and about Bullet in Impel down. And he hopes they’re okay. He hopes Buggy is living out his dreams searching for treasure with a good crew behind him. He hopes Luffy is getting stronger and has friends to keep him company and love him. Hopes that Gaban is off living and enjoying retirement. And he hopes that Bullet hasn’t given up, even being all the way in level six of Impel Down that he is.
He hopes that one of the Rumbar Pirates is out there, and has seen Yorki’s face. Has seen where he is and might come find him.
He hopes.
“Thirty million for his first bounty!” Shanks cheers proudly as those who were with him on Dawn laugh and drink merrily with pride. Shanks remembers that day that Luffy told him he was practising for his bounty poster. He made such a terrible face, angry and what was intended to be intimidating but just came off as adorable.
The expression on Luffy’s bounty poster is nothing of the sort. He’s grinning, wide and delighted, waving at the camera with his straw hat on display. The Straw Hat Pirates, his crew are called, and Shanks decides he’s not going to accept that hat when he meets Luffy again.
Yorki likes him despite never meeting him. He points out that Luffy seems like a delight, although reiterates that ‘pirates are just too young these days’ and that makes Shanks laugh again, unrestrained while Mihawk gives them an eye roll and goes back to sipping his beer with simply a final glimpse at the wanted poster.
“That crew is special,” Mihawk comments idly. “Perhaps that boy will be the one to find the One Piece.”
Shanks raises an eyebrow.
“That’s high praise.”
Mihawk shrugs him off.
The new bounties for the Straw Hats leave him speechless. 500 million berries for that tiny kid he remembers. A new picture greets him, Luffy still grinning his D smile with that ever-present crescent scar under his eye, reaching out to grab the camera. Roronoa Zoro, with a scar over one eye, looks disgruntled with 320 million, while Sanji’s only alive status leaves Shanks suspicious. Yasopp’s son Usopp has a particularly concerning photo, looking half-dead and sporting a solid 200 million berri bounty which has Yasopp dancing around with joy.
The final poster he gets to he almost drops. It looks like a repurposed concert poster, unique even for a Straw Hat, just skull and bones. Shanks remembers Roger once speaking of the Yomi Yomi no Mi, that could bring someone back to life, but he didn’t think he’d ever see the result.
The Soul King. Brook.
It has Yorki in tears.
It has Shanks in tears, honestly. He remembers the paintings and the old bounty photo and it’s something special, he thinks. Fate brought Shanks to Yorki, then Shanks to Luffy. Then Luffy to Ace, Shanks’s former captain’s son. Then Luffy to Usopp, Shanks’s sniper’s son. And finally, brought Luffy to Brook, to Yorki’s former first mate and closest partner.
Buggy’s bounty hasn’t gone up, Shanks finds. It hasn’t gone up because it had been frozen. Because Buggy had been given the same title as the infamous Boa Hancock and the world’s greatest swordsman Dracule Mihawk. After years of Buggy swimming around as a big fish in a small pond, he’s finally left and become bigger.
He calls Rayleigh the night after and they talk about Luffy and Buggy and he reveals that he met Brook in Sabaody two years ago. That Brook had cried when he saw the painting. That he’d been overjoyed to hear about Yorki. Shanks just says that when he meets again with Luffy, he’ll be happy to see Yorki and Brook reunite as well.
He’s glad, really, to see his little Anchor all grown up. And he’s glad that the Rumbar Pirates still have another member kicking.
They’ll wait until the Straw Hats reach them. Until Luffy really does bring the Dawn.