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The Oro Jackson creaked under the weight of stolen treasure, celestial dragon junk and the lingering smell of victory. Smoke still curled from the horizon behind them with God Valley reduced to ash and rubble. The crew lounged across the deck like overfed lions, bruised, laughing and half-drunk on adrenaline after the battle they’d endured.
Gaban staggered up from the hold, dragging one of the last treasure chests they’d yet to open. Roger, already seated cross-legged atop a pile of looted gold, perked up.
“Another? Give it here. I call dibs.”
Rayleigh rolled his eyes where he leaned against the railing beside Shakky.
“Didn’t you call dibs on the last one?”
Ignoring him, Roger leapt down, boots thudding against the deck. The crew gathered, forming a loose circle around the chest like kids around a birthday cake. It was absurdly ornate. It had velvet lining, golden trim and a lock shaped like a dragon.
“Stand back,” Roger said, cracking his knuckles.
He kicked the chest open with theatrical flair and the deck immediately went silent.
Inside nestled in velvet and surrounded by pearls and gold was a baby. Red-haired, round-cheeked and blinking up at them with serene confusion.
The crew stared in bewilderment.
“...is it cursed?” Gaban whispered.
“It’s blinking. Cursed things don’t blink,” Taro suggested.
“What kind of logic is that,” Mugren shot back.
Roger crouched, eyes wide.
“Is it... treasure?”
“Captain, that’s a baby,” said Rayleigh slowly as Shakky chuckled.
“A baby treasure?!” Roger gasped.
The baby blinked again then smiled a gummy, radiant beam of pure innocence. Roger clutched his chest like he’d been shot.
“He smiled at me. That’s it, he’s mine.”
“What?! Roger, you can’t just—” Rayleigh barked.
Roger scooped the baby into his arms, spinning in a circle much to the infant’s delight if his peels of laughter were any indication.
“I’ve found the greatest treasure in the world!”
“You said that about the last bottle of rum,” Gaban deadpanned.
“This is better than rum! Look at him! Look at this face!”
Roger shoved the baby toward Rayleigh, who recoiled like it was a bomb.
“Dare refuse this cute face!” Roger bellowed.
The baby giggled with wild abandon. Rayleigh felt a small crack form in his chest and blinked at how quickly his resolve gave.
“...we’re doomed.”
The baby giggled again as Roger cradled him to his chest like a sacred artifact, swaying gently with the movement of the ship.
“He’s so small. Like a nugget of joy, a joy nugget,” Roger whispered, awestruck.
Rayleigh pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Roger, it’s a baby. Not a snack.”
Gaban leaned in to observe the kid.
“He’s got red hair. That’s rare, right?”
“Rare and dangerous,” came Shakky’s voice.
She walked over with grace, the hardship she’d face over the last year not showing in the wake of her confident walk. Her eyes locked onto the baby, her expression full of caution and distrust.
“That’s no ordinary baby, that’s Figarland Garling’s son.”
Roger blinked in reply.
“Fingerham Garlic? Who’s that?”
“Figarland Garling. He’s a Celestial Dragon, one of the founding families of the World Government. He’s one of the top Knights of God. He was on the island fighting against the likes of Rocks and Whitebeard. He was the one who had me taken so I’d be forced to be his wife.”
“You’re sure,” Rayleigh asked, voice tight.
“Same eyes, same hair, same smug little mouth. I believe this one is Shanks. He was wearing the orange onesie when I got a glimpse of him. Look at him. He’s already judging us,” she pointed out.
The baby hiccuped.
“He’s dangerous. If the World Government finds out we took him…”
Roger looked down at baby Shanks then back at Shakky.
“He smiled at me,” he declared.
“What?”
The captain held the baby aloft like a trophy as he continued.
“He smiled at me, so he’s mine now. Who cares about this Garlic guy?”
Rayleigh stepped forward, hands raised.
“Roger, you can’t just claim a Celestial Dragon’s baby like he’s a pet parrot.”
“Why not? He’s clearly chosen me.”
“He’s a baby, he smiles at wind.”
Roger ignored him and turned to the crew, eyes gleaming.
“Look at him. Isn’t he so cute? Say no to this face, I dare ya!”
He shoved the baby toward Gaban, who immediately melted. The same seemed to happen to every member who Roger shoved Shanks at. Rayleigh felt his hope dwindling more and more by the second. Shakky crossed her arms over her chest. By now, her lips were tilted in amusement at Roger’s actions.
“You’re serious about this?” She asked.
Roger nodded solemnly.
“I’ve faced gods, monsters and bureaucracy. But this… this is the perfect adventure.”
The baby burped. Rayleigh stared at the sky.
“We’re all going to die.”
~*~*~
The mess hall was unusually quiet. Not because anyone was dead, though Rayleigh privately wished someone would throw him overboard, but because the Roger Pirates were gathered around a baby like cultists around a shrine.
Roger had placed Shanks in the center of the table, nestled in a pile of velvet and gold coins (which couldn’t be comfortable but the baby’s eyes had shimmered with want at the sight of the shiny coins). The baby blinked, yawned, then smiled.
“He’s got my nose,” Gaban claimed with a wide grin.
“Day three. The crew has begun to hallucinate shared features,” Rayleigh muttered, scribbling in the Rogers’ logbook.
Shanks giggled.
“That’s a healthy laugh, strong lungs. He’s got pirate potential,” Erio declared.
“He’s one year old,” Rayleigh snapped.
Shanks stuffed his fingers in his mouth, drool dropping down the side of his mouth in the process. Rayleigh cringed at the sight while the rest of the crew cooed like it was the cutest thing in the world.
Rayleigh watched them pass Shanks around, taking turns holding him and swiftly falling under whatever spell (or curse) the infant seemed to possess. One by one, hardened pirates melted like butter over a drooling, giggling hazard.
“Look at his grip! He’s already got a swordsman’s instinct,” Millet Pine said.
“He blinked at me twice. The rest of you only got one blink,” Rowing gloated.
“He burped in my face. I bet he’ll have a strong appetite. I can’t wait to cook for him,” Marx beamed.
“It seems you’ve lost the ship, Ray dearest,” Shakky teased as he stared up at the ceiling, contemplating his life choices.
Roger was now carving a tiny Oro Jackson into a teething ring.
“We’ll need matching outfits so everyone knows he’s ours. Something bold. Red, like his hair. With suns, moons and stars like his onesie. Maybe with sparkles too.”
“Sparkles?” Rayleigh echoed, horrified.
“For visibility. He’s a precious treasure, after all. We need to show him off.”
Shanks sneezed. Half the crew cooed and some even clapped.
Rayleigh stood with a giggling Shakky on his arm.
“You’re all insane,” he concluded, shaking his head.
Rayleigh turned to leave, muttering under his breath as he scribbled more in the logbook.
“What are you writing now?” Roger called after him.
“My resignation letter. Or a suicide note. Haven’t decided.”
~*~*~
The night was calm, unnervingly so. The sea stretched out like a sheet of black silk and the Roger Pirates’ ship rocked gently in the cradle of the waves. Rayleigh sat in the crow’s nest, legs dangling over the edge, journal open on his lap. He’d written the same sentence three times: this is unsustainable.
Behind him, soft footsteps tapped towards him.
“You’re brooding,” Shakky said, settling beside him with a cigarette already lit.
“I’m documenting, for posterity. So future generations know I tried to stop this madness.”
Shakky exhaled smoke into the wind.
“He’s still dressing the baby in gold?”
“Today it was a cape made from a Celestial Dragon’s curtain. He called it ‘symbolic,’. Roger’s always been out there, but this a lot even for him,” Rayleigh muttered.
“Fatherhood changes a man,” Shakky chuckled.
Rayleigh finally looked at her.
“You’re not worried?”
“I was, but then I realized something.”
“What?”
“He hasn’t looked at me once since that baby smiled at him. No swooning. No heartfelt declarations. No trying to win me over. He only has eyes for Shanks.”
Rayleigh blinked.
“You’re serious?”
Shakky nodded, tapping ash off the edge.
“I could set the galley on fire and his only concern would be if Shanks was too warm.”
“This is madness,” Rayleigh groaned.
“It’s Roger. Madness is part of the package.”
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sound of Roger singing a lullaby that suspiciously resembled a sea shanty about punching gods.
“He’s going to get us all killed,” Rayleigh said.
“Probably, but he’ll die smiling and that baby will be dressed like a king.”
Rayleigh closed his journal.
“I’m not giving up.”
Shakky smiled, tired and fond.
“You will. Eventually. We all do.”
Below, Roger’s voice rose in a triumphant crescendo:
“~And the baby laughed. And the heavens cried. And the pirates danced with pride!”
Rayleigh stared into the stars.
“I miss when our biggest problem was Garp or Rocks showing up.”
Shakky patted his shoulder quietly in commiseration.
~*~*~
The sea was calm, too calm. Rayleigh knew that meant trouble.
“Ship on the horizon! A big one shaped like a whale!” came the call from the crow’s nest.
Roger’s eyes lit up.
“Newgate!”
Rayleigh gave a long-suffering groan. Within minutes, the Moby Dick loomed beside them like a floating fortress. Newgate, newly dubbed Whitebeard, stood at the bow with his arms crossed and a grin wide enough to split the sky.
“Roger! You thieving bastard!”
“Hey Beardy!” Roger waved cheerfully.
“I heard you managed to get even more loot from that hell hole than anyone in my old crew,” he bellowed.
“I won it fair and square! Enough about that. I found something better than treasure!”
Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. Roger held up baby Shanks like a trophy.
“Behold! My son!”
There was a beat of silence and then Whitebeard leapt across the gap between ships like a man possessed. Rayleigh barely had time to shout a warning before Whitebeard landed on deck, cracking a barrel beneath his feet. He marched straight to Roger, eyes locked on the baby.
“He’s perfect.”
Roger puffed out his chest with pride. Whitebeard leaned in closer.
“I want him.”
Roger blinked in surprise at that.
“What?”
“I’ll raise him as my own,” Whitebeard declared, already reaching for Shanks.
“He’ll be the strongest pirate in the world.”
Roger recoiled, clutching Shanks like a sacred relic.
“Back off, Beardy! He’s mine!”
“He’s got the aura of a conqueror. Of course he should be with me,” Whitebeard insisted.
Shanks giggled as Roger waved him around in frustration.
“He laughed! That’s a sign!” Whitebeard gasped.
“He’s laughing because of me!” Roger growled.
Rayleigh watched as two of the most powerful men in the world devolved into toddlers fighting over a plush toy. Whitebeard lunged and Roger dodged, causing Shanks to laugh again. The crew scattered as the two captains brawled across the deck.
“He laughed at me first!”
“You can’t even change a diaper!”
Eventually, Shanks sneezed and both men froze. Roger cradled him protectively to his chest.
“Shanksy is delicate,” the captain pouted.
Whitebeard sighed, defeated.
“Fine. But if you ever die, I’m adopting him.”
Roger narrowed his eyes.
“Over my dead body.”
“Exactly,” Whitebeard grinned.
Rayleigh scribbled in his journal: Day 15. Roger fought Whitebeard over the baby. No one won. Except, maybe, the baby.
~*~*~
Amazon Lily was as beautiful as it was dangerous. It was a jungle of flowers, serpents and women who could kill with a glance. The Roger Pirates docked with caution, wary to have come to the island at all but Roger had insisted while Shakky had wanted to check in with old friends. When they arrived, Roger disembarked like he was arriving for a coronation.
“Ladies!” he called, arms wide as he approached the glaring women on the shore.
“I bring you the greatest treasure in the world!”
Roger held up baby Shanks, who blinked at the crowd of warriors.
“The child?” Tritoma asked, stepping forward, her expression unreadable.
“My son,” Roger beamed.
Gloriosa, who was standing beside Tritoma, narrowed her eyes.
“Your what?!”
“My son,” Roger repeated, bouncing Shanks gently.
Gloriosa’s face darkened.
“You had a baby with someone else?! You disappear for weeks, then show up with a red-haired baby and call him your treasure?!”
Tritoma placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Glori, I don’t think that’s—”
“Don’t defend him! He’s flaunting his infidelity!” Gloriosa barked.
Roger looked genuinely confused.
“Wait, are we—were we—?”
Shanks giggled at a passing snake.
“He’s mocking me!” Gloriosa gasped.
“He’s just happy,” Roger defended, clutching Shanks protectively.
“He’s smug, just like his cheating father,” the former empress hissed.
Rayleigh leaned against a palm tree, watching the chaos unfold.
“Day 26. Roger has accidentally broken up with someone he wasn’t even dating.”
Tritoma tried to salvage the situation.
“Captain Roger, perhaps you could clarify—”
Roger was already kneeling, showing Shanks to a group of young curious Kuja warriors.
“Look at his little fingers! So cute!”
Gloriosa stormed off, muttering about betrayal.
“We’re going to be banned from this island,” Rayleigh sighed.
Shakky hummed with agreement as she lit a cigarette.
~*~*~
The Roger Pirates had barely dropped anchor near a sleepy naval outpost when the deck trembled under a familiar, furious voice.
“ROGER!”
Rayleigh didn’t even flinch.
“Day 48. Garp’s here. Nothing good can come from this.”
Roger, already halfway through tying a miniature bandana around Shanks’ head, perked up like a child caught mid-prank.
“Garp! You’re just in time to meet my greatest discovery!”
Garp launched himself aboard with the subtlety of a cannonball, landing in a splintered crouch and rising with a glare that could curdle seawater.
“You lunatic! What did you steal this time,” he barked.
Roger turned with a beaming grin and held up Shanks.
“I didn’t steal him. He chose me.”
“You’re holding a baby.”
“Exactly. My son.”
“You had a kid?”
“Found him in a treasure chest. He smiled at me. Instant bond.”
Garp stared at Shanks, who blinked back and then let out a soft burp.
“He’s got potential,” Garp muttered.
“Of course he does.”
“He should be raised as a Marine,” Garp concluded, crossing his arms over his chest.
Roger recoiled in disgust.
“He’s a pirate!”
“He needs structure. Discipline. Honor.”
“He needs naps, mashed banana and pirate stories. And then, when he gets older, he can raid all the treasure he wants.”
Garp pointed at Shanks.
“He’s got the eyes of a future admiral.”
Roger clutched the baby tighter.
“He’s got the laugh of a true pirate.”
Roger and Garp’s foreheads knocked against one another’s as they growled in the other’s face. Suddenly, Shanks’ small hands shoved between the two before he patted both on the cheek. Rayleigh could see the exact moment both men melted.
Garp stepped back, solemn.
“He’s sensitive. That’s good. Marines need empathy.”
Roger wrapped Shanks up in his coat.
“A good captain needs conflict resolution skills.”
Rayleigh snorted at that. Roger must’ve missed that memo.
~*~*~
Rayleigh squinted at the horizon.
“Day 79. The ocean’s gone quiet. That means something loud is coming.”
A ripple of unnatural laughter echoed across the waves. Moments later, a massive candy-colored ship emerged from the mist, its sails stitched with grinning faces and its figurehead singing.
“Linlin! Just who I wanted to see!”
Rayleigh muttered, “Of course it is.”
Big Mom’s ship pulled alongside theirs with the grace of a leviathan. She stood at the bow, towering and radiant, flanked by Zeus and Prometheus.
“Gol D. Roger, I hear you’ve been a busy boy,” she purred.
“I’ve found the greatest treasure in the world!”
He held up baby Shanks, who blinked once and then sneezed.
“He’s precious,” Big Mom gasped, her eyes wide.
“I know,” Roger replied confidently.
“I’ll just take him off your hands then, shall I?”
“Don’t you have enough brats running around,” Rayleigh muttered.
“I’ll take a bit of his soul and make him a homie,” Linlin clarified, her eyes gleaming.
“He’ll live forever with me, my sweetest creation.”
The Roger Pirates stirred angrily at that.
“He’s not going to be one of your creepy little slaves!”
“This is somehow worse than the Marines,” Rayleigh groaned.
Roger stepped forward, shielding Shanks with one arm.
“He’s not for sale. Not for trade. Not for soul-binding either.”
“You’re being selfish.”
“I’m a pirate and he’s my treasure. I don’t share,” Roger snapped.
Shanks burbled and cooed, kicking his feet obliviously from where Roger had him strapped to his chest.
Big Mom leaned in across the rail.
“He’s got a strong soul. I can feel it from here.”
“Back off, Linlin. Or I’ll punch your ship into the sea.”
The homies gasped and immediately started throwing around threats but Big Mom waved them off.
“You’re lucky he’s cute so I won’t destroy you today, but mark my words, I’ll be back for him.”
Roger glared while they floated away. He clutched Shanks tighter as he pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Don’t worry, my boy. No one’s turning you into a singing spoon.”
~*~*~
Rayleigh’s Journal — Year One, Entry 47
Shanks took his first step today. Roger cried so hard he flooded the galley. Gaban tried to mop it up with a Jolly Roger. I suggested we use a towel. Roger said, “Only our flag is worthy of this moment.”
Entry 48
Shanks’ second step was toward Roger. Roger passed out from joy. We thought he was dead. Turns out he was just overwhelmed and whispering “my boy” into the floorboards.
Entry 52
Shanks said his first word today: “Dada,” directed at Roger. Roger screamed and fell overboard. He tried to rename the ship “The Dada.”
Entry 63
Shanks’ second word : “Rara,” directed at me. I pretended not to hear it. Then pretended it was a coincidence. Then pretended I didn’t tear up when he said it again. Damn it, I’m losing my grip.
Entry 70
Roger built a throne out of barrels and declared Shanks the “Prince of the Sea.” He tried to teach him to laugh like a pirate. Shanks quacked like a duck. Roger said it was “a revolutionary interpretation.”
Entry 87
Shanks bit Garp’s finger during a visit. Garp saluted him and congratulated him on a fight well fought. Roger threw a celebratory feast.
Entry 90
Shanks has learned to throw things. Roger gave him a tiny cannonball. We now have three holes in the deck and a new rule: no artillery for the baby.
Entry 101
Shanks started mimicking Roger’s laugh. It’s eerily similar. I don’t think I’ve slept well in weeks.
Entry 109
Roger tried to teach Shanks to read maps. Shanks ate one instead. I took the baby after that and spent the day with him… not that I wanted to or anything.
Entry 200
Shanks turned two today. Roger threw a party with fireworks, cake and a puppet show where every puppet was Roger. Shanks clapped once and Roger cried again.
Entry 251
I caught Shanks trying to climb the mast. He looked at me and said, “Rara up.” I lifted him. I’m doomed.
EPILOUGE
The Roger Pirates were mid-celebration, again.
Shanks had just learned to say “boom,” and Roger had declared it a national holiday. The deck was strewn with confetti, stolen banners and a cake shaped like a cannon. Shanks wore a tiny cape. Rayleigh had a migraine.
“Day 430, the child speaks in sound effects. Roger calls it poetry,” Rayleigh muttered, scribbling in his journal.
Suddenly, the lookout shouted down at them.
“There’s a ship approaching! It’s big and fancy, looks like trouble.”
The ship that pulled alongside was pristine, gilded and radiating entitlement. At its helm stood Figarland Garling, cape billowing, uniform garishly colored, his yellow hair sticking out obnoxiously and his expression carved from marble. Beside him there was a toddler who looked identical to Shanks, but with a more judgmental stare.
Roger gasped upon seeing him.
“There’s two of them!”
Garling hopped aboard alongside the toddler without asking.
“I’ve come for my son,” he said imperiously, his gaze locked on Shanks who was licking frosting off his fingers.
Roger clutched Shanks instinctively.
“He’s not yours, he’s mine!”
Garling gestured to the second child.
“This is Shamrock, his twin. They both belong to the Figarland line.”
“You named him Shamrock?”
Garling frowned in reply.
“It’s a noble name.”
Roger looked at Shanks and then at Shamrock and then back again, his eyes worryingly wide.
“Double the cuteness,” he murmured.
“Roger, no!” Rayleigh groaned.
Roger ignored him in favor of dropping to his knees.
“I’ve been chosen twice,” he declared dramatically.
Garling stepped forward threateningly.
“Return him. Now.”
Roger stood, eyes wild.
“You abandoned him in a treasure chest!”
“He was stolen from me and I’ve come to claim him back. Figarlands are born into legacy and he will fulfill his duty.”
“His only duty is to laugh and be free!”
Shanks giggled almost as if to prove Roger’s point, causing Roger to grin and swoon. Shamrock blinked at the sound.
Garling rolled his eyes and reached for Shamrock, who slapped his hand away.
Roger gasped at the action. Garling tried again.
Shamrock turned to Shanks and tilted his head curiously before he opened his mouth.
“Boom,” the toddler said simply.
Shanks glanced at him and shot him a wide grin, icing lining his lips.
“Boom!” He exclaimed in return.
Roger collapsed, tears welling in his eyes.
“They’re communicating and bonding. That’s it, they’re both mine! You can’t have them. They’re pirates now.”
Garling narrowed his eyes.
“You’ll regret this.”
“I doubt it. Every day will be glorious!”
Roger snapped his fingers and the crew immediately set on to driving Garling’s ship away as Roger snatched up Shamrock. The boy looked disgruntled by the action but didn’t push him away as he continued to babble with Shanks.
Rayleigh didn’t even flinch.
“Roger committed arson in order to win a custody battle. Now there’s two brats to give me a headache though Roger’s still the biggest thorn in my side of all,” Rayleigh wrote in the logbook.
As the Roger Pirates fled into the horizon, Roger held both twins aloft.
“My beautiful boys!” he cried.
Shanks giggled and Shamrock rolled his eyes in annoyance. Rayleigh wept into his journal.
~*~*~
Shamrock did not laugh. He blinked, he frowned, he occasionally sighed in exasperation, which was impressive for a toddler, but he did not laugh. Not like Shanks, who giggled at cannon fire and laughed in rhythm with sea shanties. Shamrock observed and judged.
“Day 445,” he wrote.
“Shamrock has been aboard for ten days. He has not smiled. He has, however, reorganized the spice rack and corrected Roger’s grammar.”
Roger, of course, was undeterred. He treated Shamrock exactly like Shanks: with overwhelming affection, dramatic declarations and a complete disregard for personal space.
“My beautiful boy! You’re glowing with pirate potential!” he cried, scooping Shamrock into the air.
“I’m sticky.”
Roger kissed his forehead anyway.
“Sticky with destiny!”
Shamrock did not protest. He didn’t lean in, but he didn’t pull away either. Rayleigh watched this with quiet dread.
“Shamrock tolerates Roger’s affection like a diplomat tolerates a parade. I suspect he finds it absurd. I also suspect he needs it,” he wrote.
Unlike Shanks, who demanded attention with joyful chaos, Shamrock moved quietly. He sat beside Shanks during meals, corrected Roger’s maps with tiny fingers and once handed Rayleigh a tissue when he sneezed. He never asked for hugs, but he never refused them. Roger didn’t notice the difference or maybe he did and refused to acknowledge it.
He dressed them in matching capes, called them the twin treasures, taught them to laugh like pirates. Shanks cackled and Shamrock snorted once before dismissing it as inefficient. Roger cried anyway.
On day 460, Rayleigh wrote,
“Shamrock said ‘Dada’ today. Roger fainted and fell overboard... again.”
Later, when the crew was asleep and the stars were out, Shamrock sat beside Roger on the deck while Shanks was sprawled out across his lap, asleep. The toddler didn’t speak, just leaned against his shoulder, quiet and still. Roger didn’t say a word. He wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered.
Shamrock didn’t reply, but he didn’t move away either. Rayleigh watched from the shadows, journal in hand and quietly admitted defeat.
This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when Roger said they’d turn the world upside down, but for better or worse, he’d stand beside his captain, even if he’d clearly gone insane.