Chapter Text
“Shanks! Is it getting dark?”
“Yes, Mama!” Shanks shouted back. The wind was picking up speed outside the window, and the sky above had darkened. Raindrops began pattering relentlessly on the glass as the storm brewed like a terrible divine concoction. It was looking to be one of the worst storms in recent times—Shanks did not envy anyone who was out sailing and too far from a dock to escape it.
The impending storm was probably the most exciting thing to happen in God Valley in years. Of course, Shanks had seen the violent and scary things going on across the world in the papers that the news coos dropped off every morning. He knew he was fortunate to live in a place so untouched as God Valley. The village was small, but he knew everybody there like family. He helped his mother keep the house neat—Shamrock would compete and clean the whole house twice over. She made them three meals a day, all of which were unfathomably delicious. There weren’t many kids Shanks’s age in town who weren’t his twin brother, but he got along with the other kids fine.
Life was simple. Nice, but too simple. It felt ungrateful to say he yearned for adventure. He knew his mother worked hard to give them a peaceful life—after their father left her, unwilling to bear the responsibility, she’d raised Shanks and Shamrock largely on her own. She had help from the townspeople, who adored her. Shanks understood—his mother was so sweet and loving. It was due to her sole effort that he and Shamrock grew up safely, away from crime and brutality. Still, now that he was almost nineteen, he yearned for a life outside of God Valley. He’d never been off the island—his mother’s only demand of her sons—and he wanted to experience what it was like, beyond words in a newspaper.
“Be a sweetheart and help me bring the clothes in, okay?” his mother requested.
Shanks made a noise in acknowledgement and put on a pair of rain boots and a raincoat before stepping outside. He walked to the back of the house, struggling against the strong wind. Finally, he reached where his mother had hung the clothes to dry. He collected the soaked clothes, lamenting that his favourite shirt would have to wait before being wearable again. When he grabbed one of his mother’s shirts, he baulked when he saw a red stain in the middle of the yellow fabric.
“Oh, my God,” Shanks whispered in horror as he pushed the shirt aside.
Hidden among the clothes was a bloodied boy who looked a similar age to Shanks, if only a little older. He was drenched in blood and had a huge sword perched on his back. Shanks stared at him in wide-eyed horror as his memory provided him the context he desperately needed.
This was Dracule Mihawk, the Marine Hunter. Hawk-Eyes. The boy who was currently worth over a billion Berry. The world’s strongest swordsman. The current owner of a legendary sword that Shanks had seen in a book once.
Mihawk looked at him, bleary and unfocused, and then collapsed.
“Hello?” Shanks called, leaning down tentatively. He prodded Mihawk’s shoulder, but he didn’t rouse. Afraid, Shanks stuck a finger under his nose and was relieved to feel airflow. He was alive, just unconscious.
Shanks glanced around. Nobody else was out, Mihawk must’ve snuck into the town under the storm’s cover. He seemed injured. Maybe he was seeking shelter from the storm. Shanks bit his lip in contemplation. A top-wanted pirate collapsing in his backyard was the most exciting thing to happen to Shanks ever. He couldn’t just leave him here and hope he’d be gone by morning. He knew it was illegal to help Mihawk—he’d be seen as an accomplice—but his mother raised him not to run away when someone needed help. He would feel ill if he left Mihawk out here. He needed help, Marine Hunter or not.
“Alright. You’re coming with me,” Shanks said, and he took a deep breath before he reached down to pull Mihawk up. A sharp breath escaped him—Mihawk was heavier than he looked; it must be muscle mass weight. Jeez . He adjusted himself, got used to the other man’s weight, and then huffed as he lifted Mihawk high enough so he could drape him on his back. He was a bit taller than Shanks, and his sword was taller than he was. This was Shanks’s best option to drag him back to his home. As he adjusted his grasp on Mihawk, he could feel his muscular biceps, and his face flushed.
Slowly, Shanks carried Mihawk back to the front door. He carefully opened the door without dropping Mihawk, and then stepped inside. As he wriggled his feet out of his boots, he shouted, “Mama! I found him collapsed in our clothes!”
“Who—” His mother, Sofia, started. She stepped out of the kitchen and cut herself off with a gasp when she saw the bloodied criminal on Shanks’s back. “Put him down on the couch. Sham, honey, help Mama grab the first aid kit!”
Shamrock came with the box within a minute, and Sofia hurriedly tended to Mihawk. Shanks and Shamrock stood at the side, watching in anticipation as she carefully removed his oversized sword. She gently set the bloodied blade aside and then pulled Mihawk’s rose-embroidered jacket off to reveal his bare torso. He was covered in blood, but Shanks was certain not all of it was his, if his reputation could tell him the story. In all the articles he’d read about him, Mihawk was a brutal and isolated pirate who hunted Marines. However, he’d never been said to be injured until now. Shanks wondered if the Navy knew they managed to wound him this time.
“Shanks, please help Mama take the disinfectant out of the kit. Sham, bring me some water in a bowl, please,” Sofia requested. Shanks liked that she’d always spoken to them so politely. It wasn’t like anyone ever did otherwise, but he’d read books before, and he knew not all children or teenagers were spoken to like respected and intelligent individuals. His mother respected and loved everyone, and it was something she taught her sons.
Both sons retrieved the items she requested, and she set the bowl of water down on the small table by the couch, then doused a cloth in some disinfectant. She warned Mihawk, “This will sting a bit. I’m sorry.” Tentatively, she dabbed at Mihawk’s open wounds with the cloth. Mihawk’s face twisted minutely in pain, but Shanks was impressed that the reaction was so minimal. He must be used to that sensation.
“All done,” Sofia said, giving Mihawk a calming smile. “I’ll clean you up now, alright? Do I have your permission?”
Mihawk stared at her, eyes just as bleary as earlier, and his half-lidded gaze dragged itself over to the twins. He blinked slowly, and then his head lolled back as if he couldn’t be bothered to say anything—or couldn’t muster the energy to. Shanks wasn’t sure if Mihawk even knew they were there; he looked a bit delirious. Sofia took it as a green light and went for it. She soaked a second cloth in the water Shamrock brought and began wiping blood off him. It didn’t take long before she was asking for a fresh bowl of water and a new cloth, and Mihawk’s pale skin began to show under the crimson.
When she lifted his arm to wipe blood off, she gasped. “You’re burning up! Oh dear, how long have you been fighting a fever off? Sham, could you—”
“Yes, Mama,” Shamrock said, and then ran off to retrieve fever syrup from the bathroom cabinet, along with its plastic spoon. She smiled in gratitude and poured a spoonful of the syrup.
She held it to Mihawk’s lips. “This is fever medication. Drink up, okay?”
She carefully tipped the syrup into his parted lips, and he cooperatively swallowed it down. Shanks didn’t think he was the type to accept consumables from people he had just met, but he also looked delirious enough to let it happen.
“Not much more I can do for now,” Sofia said as she stood up, looking down at Mihawk, who had just passed out. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask the doctor to come look at him—”
“No!” Shanks quickly said. He glanced around, found last week’s newspaper at the top of the stack by the door, and retrieved it for her. “Mama, we can’t tell anyone he’s here. He’s wanted. The Navy will come, and he looks too injured to fight.” He flipped it to around the middle pages, where Mihawk’s bounty poster took up a good quarter of the page. Wanted at one billion Berry, Dracule Mihawk’s photo was radiating intimidation. Danger. Excitement.
Shanks found it all so intense. Mihawk was exciting.
Sofia glanced between the photo and the real person lying on the couch. On the wanted poster, Mihawk looked almost psychotic, a minute smirk on a blood-splattered face, as if telling the cameraman that they were next. In reality, Mihawk looked like a peaceful young man crashing innocently on Shanks’s couch—if it weren’t for the huge, blood-stained sword beside him. Her eyes skated down the list of crimes he was wanted for, and then she decided, “Okay. I’ll wait until he’s awake and ask him what he wants to do.”
Mihawk didn’t wake up for the next couple of days. He looked feverish and occasionally murmured incoherently in his sleep, tossing and turning. Sofia tended to his wounds and regularly fed him medicine. At some point, a bullet wound on his shoulder started showing signs of an infection, and Sofia tended to it the best she could. She even asked Shanks to subtly ask the doctor how he’d tend to a bullet wound, under the guise of “writing a detective story”.
Shanks couldn’t help but wait at the edge of his seat for the moment Mihawk would wake up. He wanted to ask him for his story. He knew the one the papers printed, but he wanted to hear it straight from the guy who sailed the world alone. He must have so many interesting tales to tell; he was so exciting…
“Hey,” Shamrock said as he poked Shanks, who’d been peeking at Mihawk from the hallway. “What do you think about all this?”
“I think it’s a chance to get to know what life is like out there!” Shanks said. “When he wakes up, I’m gonna ask him all sorts of questions.”
“Do you really believe that’s a good idea?” Shamrock asked.
“Why? Don’t you wonder what the rest of the world is like?”
“I read the paper.”
“Yeah, but like, in reality! People can lie in the papers,” Shanks pointed out. “I want to hear stories from people who got to live in the world. This guy sailed alone on the most dangerous seas. He fights Marines and other pirates every other day! Aren’t you curious to know his stories, too?”
Shamrock glanced at Mihawk, then admitted, “A bit, yes.”
“Yeah! Exactly!” Shanks said. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll let me sail with him!”
Shamrock burst out laughing. “Do you seriously believe that?”
“Maybe I can be useful somehow.”
“You said it yourself, he sails dangerous seas alone and fights strong people every day. He doesn’t need another person to take care of,” Shamrock said. Shanks didn’t want to admit it, but it was true. It seemed like Mihawk didn’t need anyone.
“I’m gonna go find his boat. He sailed here; his boat must be somewhere, if the storm didn’t wash it away,” Shanks said, turning on his heel.
Shamrock argued, “Hey, it might not be safe. What if someone followed him?”
“Guess you’re gonna have to come with me if you want me to be safe!” Shanks teased, singsong, and he smirked when Shamrock grumbled under his breath as he followed close behind.
It didn’t take too long walking along the outskirts of God Valley before the twins found a boat. It’d luckily washed up ashore instead of being pushed out into the middle of nowhere—that, or Mihawk pulled it onto the shore before sneaking into the village. The boat looked as though he’d delidded a coffin and placed a throne, two candles, and a masthead inside it. The wooden floorboards were dry, since the storm subsided a few hours after Mihawk’s arrival. The boat looked well-maintained, but without a wheel and the sails tied up, Shanks was wildly impressed that he managed to sail it to God Valley in the middle of a storm—or anywhere, for that matter.
“So this is the boat of an infamous pirate,” Shanks said with an excited grin. “It looks kind of cool, don’t you think?”
“Meh…” Shamrock murmured, and Shanks rolled his eyes. He peered into the boat and observed, “Some supplies here, but they’re spoiled from the rain.” There was a bag of supplies, like food or first aid equipment. “Maybe he came to the village to get stuff. You said he was in our backyard, hiding in the clothes… He was probably planning to steal from us.”
“He’s a pirate, that’s to be expected,” Shanks conceded. He hardly imagined that an infamous pirate would be paying for his supplies. “Not like we’ve got anything for him to take, anyway.”
“Mama said our wine is really good,” Shamrock suggested.
“Does he look like an alcoholic?” Shanks questioned, pondering the question with a surprising amount of sincerity. Mihawk seemed like someone who would want to keep a clear head. If he drank, it’d probably be alone. “Maybe… He’s a pirate, so he probably drinks a lot.” Shamrock looked through Mihawk’s things, trying to find anything suspicious, and Shanks asked, “Do you really think we should be going through his stuff? What if he kills us?”
“I highly doubt he’s in the right physical state to kill us,” Shamrock said. Shanks couldn’t help but think his twin was highly underestimating Mihawk’s ability to kill when impaired. “Besides, I’m just checking if he has anything on him that could hurt us.”
Shanks tiptoed to look over Shamrock’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like it.”
Shamrock turned on his heel to begin walking back to the house. “We probably shouldn’t leave Mama alone with him for too long, too. Let’s go.”
Mihawk roused awake to see double. His vision was a bit blurry, and he could see two redheads hovering over him. The one with shorter hair looked wide-eyed, his red eyes and hair too vibrant for Mihawk’s level of consciousness.
“Mama, he’s awake!” he shouted.
Instantly, Mihawk grabbed Yoru and swung it at them—harmlessly, as a warning. They didn’t seem too dangerous and were unarmed, so Mihawk was reluctant to cut them down before ascertaining their threat level to him. The one with longer hair stepped protectively in front of the other—they were twins, the longer-haired one must be the elder, given his instant protectiveness. The one with shorter hair watched Mihawk without any fear in his eyes, only awe and curiosity.
A woman rushed in after them. She had long red hair with two braids along the sides that joined into a bun at the back of her head—similar to the twin with longer hair. She looked kind, in a way that Mihawk didn’t feel like he was in as much danger as he believed.
“You’re safe! You’re safe!” the woman assured, running to put herself between Mihawk’s blade and her sons. Their hands had no callouses, so they weren’t labourers or combatants. Neither was the mother. All three strangers were unarmed. No visible weapons in their reach. Four points of exit—front door, two windows, and a door to another room that likely had another window to exit from, if the light coming through the doorway was any indication. Slight possibility of raiding their supplies before escaping. “You collapsed in our backyard several days ago with a fever and infected injuries. We’ve been tending to you.”
Mihawk looked down and, for the first time, noticed the bandages all over his body. He was shirtless, but his pants were still on. His boots were sitting neatly by the couch, and oddly enough, they looked polished, cleaned of bloodstains. Yoru’s blade had dried blood, but Mihawk didn’t think that even in his feverish haze, he’d let a stranger touch Yoru.
As he tried to ascertain his next moves, the woman said, “My name is Sofia, these are my sons, Shanks and Shamrock.” The younger, curious twin was Shanks, and the wary elder was Shamrock. “I promise we don’t mean you harm.”
“I told Mama not to tell anyone you were here,” Shanks piped up, stepping out from behind his brother. “We saw your wanted poster. We knew the Navy would come for you.”
The Navy would’ve been here by now if the family had reported him. Mihawk could admit that he believed Shanks’s claim. He glanced around the room and then out the window—the town looked calm and unbothered. Mihawk wondered if the World Government even had any authority over this island.
“Where am I?” Mihawk asked.
“God Valley,” Shamrock answered. “West Blue.”
Mihawk had never been here before, but he recognised the name. The island wasn’t affiliated with the World Government, so he was likely safe here—from the Navy, at least. He put Yoru down and winced as he sat up.
Shanks instantly stepped forward to help, but Mihawk lifted a hand to stop him in his tracks. “Don’t touch me.”
“Okay. Sorry,” Shanks said, hurriedly taking another step back. Mihawk held his rib—it felt bruised, and the fact that it was bandaged proved it. He saw fever and pain medication on the small table by the couch.
“I’m hungry,” Mihawk murmured.
“You’ve been unconscious for a week, I’m not surprised,” Sofia said with a smile. “What would you like to eat? I’ll cook it for you.”
Mihawk hesitated—accepting food from paid chefs was one thing; food from a stranger who gained nothing from serving him was another. “Could I…”
“You can watch me cook,” Sofia offered. “Or you can come help me.”
Mihawk glanced between her and the twins, then slowly got up. His left foot shot pain up his leg, and he almost instantly sat back down. “Fuck.”
“You sprained your ankle. I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier. It’s mostly healed, but you probably need to get used to it,” Sofia apologised. “I’ll help you up, okay? Ready?”
One of her hands slipped into his, and the other tucked itself under his shoulder. With a small huff, she helped him stand. Slowly, she guided him to the dining table, and the twins followed close behind. There, she let him sit and said, “You’ll be able to watch me cook from here, if you’re cautious about that. So, what would you like to eat?”
“Can I have red wine?” Mihawk requested.
Her eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but she said, “No. Not until you’re better.”
Mihawk sighed in disappointment. “Alright. May I have something hot with soup?”
“Of course,” Sofia said with a smile. “I’ll make ramen for you, hm? I have some ingredients for it leftover from dinner yesterday.”
While she got cooking, Mihawk watched her intently. All the right ingredients were used. Eventually, he could feel the twins sitting at the table with him.
“What happened?” Shanks asked.
“Buster Call,” Mihawk muttered. He could remember his shock when his house caved in on itself while he was sleeping. He’d killed the fleet, wincing the whole time because of his injuries. It wasn’t every day that a hut collapsed on him. “I wasn’t expecting it. My home base is destroyed now, though.”
“Whoa,” Shanks whispered with awe. “I’m sorry that happened. Your boat’s okay, by the way. Sham and I found it. We hid it at the shore where nobody goes.” Mihawk glanced around the home, and Shanks added, “We didn’t take anything. I mean, most of your stuff is soaked and ruined, even if we wanted to.”
Mihawk huffed with slight amusement. “I see. Thank you.”
“Why’d you get a Buster Call?” Shamrock interrogated.
“I raided Punk Hazard because I heard some people were imprisoned there for experimentation,” Mihawk said. They had no reason to help the World Government, and it was likely a story that would be printed soon, if it hadn’t already. “As it turns out, they have some things there of great value to them that I happened to burn on my way out.”
Shanks looked amazed, which made Mihawk believe they’d never even been off God Valley before. “Like what?”
“Research on other races like Lunarians, information about genetic cloning…” Mihawk said, turning away from them to watch Sofia cook. It wasn’t very impressive to him, honestly, but Shanks seemed enamoured.
“You’re like… fighting for the people! Wow, you’re cooler than the papers make you sound,” Shanks said, and then Mihawk heard the sound of his brother smacking him upside his head. “Ow!”
“Not for the people… Just against the government,” Mihawk muttered. He wanted to take down the government, yes, though he wasn’t opposed if he ended up helping people in his quest.
“Yeah, but you’re helping people anyway! I want to be like that, I want to help free people, too,” Shanks said, a bit starry-eyed as he fantasised about a life where he could be some kind of Robin Hood.
“You’re a bit naive, aren’t you?” Mihawk asked, and then a steaming bowl of freshly cooked ramen landed on the table before him.
“Done!” Sofia said, beaming. “Enjoy.”
“I’m naive?” Shanks asked as Mihawk dug into the food. It was delicious, and he felt ravenous. He ignored Shanks while he practically vacuumed the bowl’s contents up. Shanks, Shamrock, and Sofia watched with wide eyes as he finished the ramen within a minute.
He turned to Sofia and gratefully said, “Thank you. That was delicious.”
“I… I think I have enough ingredients to make you more food,” Sofia said. She laughed lightly and commented, “I really underestimated how hungry you’d be! I’m happy you like my food.”
“I hope you value your mother,” Mihawk said, tipping the bowl up so he could finish off the last drops of soup.
“We do,” Shamrock agreed. That must be the first time Mihawk saw a smile from the older twin.
Now that he was done eating, Mihawk answered Shanks, “You are naive because the world doesn’t revolve around wanting to help people. It’s the sort of thing you get punished for. Case in point: my Buster Call.”
Shanks’s mouth pressed into a straight line as if he disapproved. “Hm.”
Mihawk ate an insane amount of food. Though with his muscles and how much strenuous activity he did regularly, Shanks couldn’t say he was surprised. Mihawk ate anything Sofia put in front of him. Each time, he’d compliment her cooking and thank her before politely requesting another bowl. Once she was out of ingredients to cook a complete meal for him, Mihawk even offered to pay for new ingredients—his spoils from previous raids of Marine bases.
Shanks admittedly liked Mihawk so far. He was nice to his mother, seemed relatively polite and kind—in reference to his actions on Punk Hazard—and was such a cool person. He knew so much about the world outside God Valley, but Shanks knew he shouldn’t bombard him with questions when he’d only just woken up from a week-long coma.
Shamrock didn’t understand Shanks’s fascination with the Marine Hunter. Shanks couldn’t quite explain it past the fact that Mihawk was interesting and new. Shamrock maintained that Mihawk was nothing more than another unruly pirate, one of many in the world.
Shanks thought no, you’d be hard-pressed to find another pirate like Mihawk. He’d read about countless ones in the papers, and none sounded like him.
Mihawk was allowed to stay in the guest room until he felt well enough to leave God Valley, and Shanks couldn’t be more excited about Sofia’s decision. That was a lot of time to get to know Mihawk before he left!
That night, Shanks knocked on Mihawk’s door before he poked his head in. Mihawk was cleaning blood off his sword, meticulous and careful. He looked up when he heard his visitor and asked, “Can I help you?”
“Just wanted to say I hope we made you feel welcome,” Shanks said, suddenly feeling a bit shy in front of the weathered pirate. “And good night.”
Mihawk raised an eyebrow, then returned his attention to his sword. “Good night, Shanks. Thank you and your family for your help.”
Shanks nodded and shut the door, then leaned against it with a wide smile. He looked even better in person… He went to his room and pulled out Mihawk’s wanted poster (he’d cut it out of the paper and kept it in his drawer). He looked a bit softer in person, a bit more “innocent”. Now that he’d been cleaned of blood and grime, Mihawk looked refined and gentle, nothing like the bloodthirsty criminal pirate the papers painted him as.