Archive of Our Own

Shamrock can say with confidence that he does not understand his brother. The man has no interest in claiming his family name, no sense of his own inherent superiority, and a frankly alarming approach to problem-solving.

Father wants Shanks dead, and though Shamrock can appreciate the impulse, he's never agreed. Despite Shanks' many-- many-- flaws, he's still Shamrock's twin. Shamrock has collected every report, newspaper article, and bounty poster on his brother in an attempt to understand him, all with the vague and uncertain aim of bringing him back. An infant Shamrock was told that his brother was stolen by pirates, and resolved to steal him back. Despite everything, that goal hasn't changed.

He hasn't managed to figure out how to understand Shanks. But he's got bits and pieces of the puzzle. For example: he is quite confident in his ability to make Shanks angry.

He lands on the deck of the Red Force, much to the alarm of the crew. Shouts rise around him as he draws his blade and levels it at the chest of the first mate. "If I drive this through your heart," Shamrock asks curiously, "will that be enough to lure out your captain?"

In response, immediately, Shamrock can feel the blistering Haki of a furious Shanks rise around him. A piece of information that has remained consistent for years: Shanks will react to any true threat to his crew. Especially those in his inner circle, who have been there for a decade and more. Granted, there are very few people who can bring a true threat to bear against those crewmates, all of whom are independently as strong as a Marine admiral.

Shamrock can threaten them. Shamrock is as strong as his brother.

Shanks was belowdecks when Shamrock landed on the ship, but the sound of Gryphon leaving its sheath indicates that he's now just behind Shamrock. Politely, Shamrock removes his blade from where it had been resting on Beckman's collarbone and brings it around to deflect a blow.

The sound of Cerberus meeting Gryphon is a scream that splits the clouds above them.

Shamrock allows himself a smile.

"On your way to Wano, Shanks?" he asks. "I would have thought you'd be hell-bent for Marineford. Though I suppose your loyalty to your captain need not extend to his child."

He sees Shanks jolt.

"Oh, didn't you know?" That's a surprise. Not an unwelcome one, though. Before Shanks can recover, Shamrock pushes forward. "What a shame. A revelation come too late for you to do him any good."

Shanks' Haki flares out again. "What did you do?""

Shamrock pushes back. "After all that Roger did to our family, I should think a little revenge would be entirely within my rights. He took my brother." Shamrock watches horror dawn in Shanks' eyes. "So I took his son." One last twist of the knife. "Father will be delighted by his new pet."

Gryphon comes down like a wave, like lightning, like a natural disaster, throwing Shamrock backwards with Shanks in pursuit. One of the reasons Shamrock waited for them to dock before confronting his brother: this fight will need space.

Shanks is going to kill his brother.

He's never wanted to kill Shamrock before. Lightly maim, sure; the guy has all the ridiculous superiority of every damned Celestial Dragon with the added disadvantage of having the same face as Shanks. The few times they've clashed before, neither of their hearts were ever really in it. Despite everything, Shamrock has maintained that he wants Shanks to come back and rejoin them. He's never tried to kill Shanks, either.

He's sure as hell trying now.

This island is going to be glass and scorched earth by the time they're through with it. Shanks can feel a few glints of life on the opposite side of the island from their fight, and he's putting a nominal amount of effort into keeping his Haki away from that small town, but beyond that? He's not holding back. He can't afford to.

Shanks has never regretted letting the sea king eat his arm, not when it meant saving Luffy and severing the last vestiges of control the thing on the Empty Throne had over him. But sometimes he really wishes he'd been right-handed.

Shamrock is a master swordsman, and his ridiculous dog-sword-thing is a nightmare to fight, with the way it keeps splitting into three and trying to bite at him. Worse is Shamrock's Haki, which lashes out with a frenetic unpredictability, sparking off into fractals of malice and rage. Fighting against it is like trying to swim through oil: it feels wrong, and there's a vague worry at the back of Shank's mind that it might suddenly light on fire with him in the middle of it.

Alright, so it's not the best simile. But the point is, it's a hard fight. A brutal fight. And Shanks can't afford this fight: he has to stop Kaido, he has to get to Marineford, he has to--

Oh. Right. There's no point to any of that anymore.

But the way Shamrock had talked about Ace, it almost sounded like maybe he hasn't taken Ace all the way to Mariejois yet. Maybe there's a chance to get him back before he falls into Garling's hands.

Shanks would tear Mariejois open with his bare hands to save Ace. For Luffy's sake. For Roger's sake. Hell, for Ace's own sake. The kid doesn't deserve that. No one does.

But if he can save him before it's necessary--

A bite from Cerberus makes Shanks throw himself backwards, out of reach. "Focus!" Shamrock shouts at him. "Fight me!"

"Where is he?" Shanks shouts back. "What did you do with Ace?"

Shamrock just laughs. It . . . doesn't sound right. There's something ragged in it. "Nothing that Roger wouldn't have done to you!"

"Roger was my captain!" Their blades meet again, and Shanks meets Shamrock's eyes above them. "He saved me! You couldn't understand any of that! You don't even know me!"

"Oh, I understand." Shamrock's voice is unexpectedly quiet. "I understand everything I need to." With a sharp twist, Shamrock separates their blades and pushes Shanks away. And smiles. "I understand that you're a fool."

It's easy to let himself fall into the fight. He doesn't have to think. He can just let himself be the thousands of hours of practice and battles and blood and death.

Someone else has started watching this fight through his eyes. His aberrant behavior has finally been noticed, then. There is no quiet push behind his eyes for him to disengage-- yet. Only a remote curiosity.

Shamrock does not think about what that attention might entail. The fight is the only thing allowed his attention now. His thoughts are getting murky. An odd urgency rises in his chest. He does not try to find out where it comes from; all that matters is acting on it.

"You would claim that rat as a brother, wouldn't you?" Shamrock taunts. "You know nothing of family bonds. Nothing of names. You would throw away everything you are, and for what? For a ship? A crew of humans? A weak, foolish child playing at princehood?"

Shanks doesn't answer this time. But the light in his eyes ignites in his Haki, tearing outwards like a lightning storm in human shape. The sudden pressure change makes Shamrock's ears pop. He braces himself, and lunges forward.

Lunges into the attack, twisting to take it on his arm. He knows his ribs break, but he doesn't feel it past the sudden frothing darkness in his mind, a howling furor, from which he can suddenly rip himself away, like a flag torn off a ship in a hurricane. His mind is shattering anew, full of fractures and leaks, a house torn off its foundations. But he knows how to shore it up this time.

He stumbles backwards, then to his knees, and wheezes. Retches black bile onto the ground.

The pain, when it comes, is incandescent. This too, he expects. It is not easier, except in that it is not a surprise.

It's not quiet in his mind, not with the agony of broken bones and spilling blood. But it's his. His pain. His thoughts. His vague and insubstantial relief. He is not a tool. He is not a weapon. He will not be compelled to kill his brother a second time.

He might collapse, but there is suddenly an arm holding him up. Shamrock lets himself fall forward, head resting against his brother's collarbone.

"What . . ." Shanks' voice is suddenly quiet. Maybe worried. Shamrock is too busy trying to catch his breath to answer. He can feel Shanks look around, searching for answers. "You did that on purpose," Shanks says.

Shamrock doesn't answer. If his brother is clever enough to figure it out, so much the better.

"You made me try to kill you," Shanks continues. "Pissed me off enough to come at you with Haki. All so that I'd cut off your arm. And the seal." He pulls back, still holding Shamrock up, so he can look him in the eyes. "Why didn't you just ask me for help?"

Shamrock coughs, clearing his throat. "You think they'd let me?"

Shanks is quiet for a long moment. He sheaths Gryphon, then hauls Shamrock up, pulling him over his shoulder. It makes Shamrock's ribs scream, but he doesn't complain. He certainly wouldn't be able to walk back to the ship. "How'd you get away with this, then?"

"Didn't know what I was doing until I did it." Shamrock closes his eyes as Shanks stands up.

"Fuck," Shanks says. "Fucking hell. I can't believe you. You absolute, damnable fool."

He continues on with a litany of half-hearted, exhausted insults until Shamrock pats his back twice to get his attention. "Brought you a present."

Shanks trails off. ". . . What?"

"Wasn't lying. About getting Roger's child. Figured it would be a good . . ." He fishes for words. "Show of something."

"Sincerity?"

"Or something akin to it."

"Fucking hell," Shanks repeats. He laughs, disbelieving, shaking his head. "You know, I'm just waiting for the trap to close on me now."

"Good," Shamrock tells him. "You have some sense left."

"You're not encouraging, you know."

Shamrock huffs a laugh. "The boy is on my boat. Other side of the island. You can find him."

"Sure can." Shanks leaps, and then lands on the ship. "Hongo! You remember how to handle an amputation, right?"

There's an alarmed noise from one of Shanks' crew. "What did you-- Why is he here?"

"I'm keeping him!" Shanks says brightly. Maybe slightly manic with relief. "Also I need to go get Ace now. Beck, take over for me?"

Shamrock feels himself being transferred into a new set of arms. The movement jars his ribs, which hits the limit of his tolerance, and he blacks out.

It's probably easier that Shamrock loses consciousness before Hongo sets to work on him. Shanks'll explain everything to Beck-- he will, don't give him that look, Beck!-- but first he has to find Ace.
It's easy once he's focused and listening. He'd be irritated at himself for not realizing but . . . well, Shamrock made a pretty good show of distracting him.

He's not entirely sure whether or not to trust Shamrock yet. But the way Shamrock had slumped bonelessly against him, not even protesting about the indignity when Shanks had picked him up and thrown him over his shoulder, it doesn't seem fake.

And there was that horrible moment after Gryphon went through Shamrock's arm where the world went dark and cold, like an eclipse but with everything, the whole world gone behind a moon, a dark disc of rage and hate bearing down on him. It was in Shamrock's eyes, turned suddenly wrong, and in his Haki, and working its way towards Shanks, and when it touched him it would have revenge--

Then it was gone. Ripped away, as if it had never been there at all.

Shamrock's injuries stopped healing after that. And his Haki's different, suddenly. It's like . . . Shanks blinks, stopping in his tracks. It's like Shamrock's Haki was doubled before. Like two people overlapping. And now there's only one left.

Shanks needs to get back to the ship and ask Shamrock exactly what's going on. But first, Ace.

Shanks sprints across the island. It's faster than getting the boat all the way around, and Shanks is still riding the high of his adrenaline. He's focused on a tiny, familiar light he can feel just offshore. He detours slightly to go around the town, rather than through it, but before long he's at the docks, hunting down the right berth.

He expects to find a proper Noble's ship, but his Observation leads him to a small, unadorned wooden boat, meant to be crewed by one person alone. There's a cabin in the back with a few tiny rooms. One of them has a locked door.

Shanks breaks the handle getting it open. Inside is Ace.

When he sees him, Ace fixes him with a belligerent scowl. Then it slips into a frown, and his eyes widen. "Shanks?"

"Hey, kid." Miraculously, Shanks manages to keep his voice steady as he steps forward and crouches in front of him. The kid is cuffed with seastone. He looks bruised, pale, and tired, but relatively unharmed. "Did he hurt you?" If Shamrock did anything to Ace, even if his sudden change in loyalties is genuine, Shanks isn't opposed to murdering him in his sleep.

"N-no." The quaver in Ace's voice isn't convincing, but Ace adds, "He said-- he wanted revenge on Roger. So he needed me alive and," his voice twists into fearful mockery, "unspoilt."

Shanks is going to throttle Shamrock. Just a little bit. Maybe this had all been necessary-- a smokescreen to keep the monster in his head from realizing what he was planning-- but seeing bold, bright Ace
cowed is infuriating.

"Alright, he's an asshole," Shanks decides. He reaches out to tear apart Ace's cuffs. He has to tell Ace something, though, or it'll be a nasty surprise to find Shamrock on the Red Force. "But . . ." He sighs. Where the hell does he even start?

"He's your brother," Ace says.

Well. Suppose that is the best place to start. "Yeah."

"He's a Celestial Dragon."

"Yup."

"You were raised by Gold Roger?"

Not as relevant, but suppose it's worth confirming. "Sure was. He picked me up when I was a baby." Shanks reaches out to help Ace up. "I was an apprentice on his crew until he disbanded us."

Ace is quiet for several long moments. "What's going on, Shanks?"

"Not sure yet," Shanks admits. "But I think my asshole brother might be trying to switch sides. Doing it in the worst way possible, but . . . " He sighs again, stands up, and glances out the door, checking to see if anyone's out there before beckoning Ace to come out. "He might have done what he had to."

"You're asking me to trust him?"

"Absolutely not." Shanks turns to Ace. "You let me handle my brother. I'll get you back to your crew."

You will be the one to end this insult to your family name. What an honour . . .

The world slips through Shamrock's fingers. He's a passive observer only. The battlefield runs red with blood, ankle-deep, and Shamrock walks through it, uninjured.

There is a red sun at the heart of the battle, and it must be brought down. It fights amidst the corpses of its crew and allies and friends, but it will not die except by Shamrock's hand. A shame, then, that Shamrock is not the one raising his own hand.

The god in Shamrock's skin draws his blade and strikes down the elder sun. To crush the spirits of a sun even brighter, comes a cold promise, and to bring about the end of--

The sun strikes back. A dying blow, but it hits true.

Suddenly Shamrock is himself again. Suddenly, Shamrock is standing over the dying body of his brother. A severed arm on the ground still holds his bloodied sword.

He collapses. Dropping to his knees, a puppet with the strings cut. All he can do is reach out to his brother, finding his hand to hold.

And scream.

The awful keening sound from Shamrocks throat when he wakes is what pulls Shanks out of his own sleep, reaching out before he really knows what's happening. Shamrock is up, making to get out of bed, long hair wild and untamed around his face.

Shanks reaches out to catch his hand. "Easy-- easy, Shamrock. You're fine."

Shamrock whimpers faintly when Shanks' fingers close around his hand. He shakes his head, trying to pull away, then gasps in sudden pain. Probably those ribs; Hongo said they were nearly shattered on one side.

But this seems to be what grounds him. His breaths go from ragged, painful gasps to shallow panting, then more intentional slow exhales. He swallows.

"Shanks?"

"Just me."

Shamrock finally looks at him, searching his face. "I didn't expect you here."

"Well, I didn't expect you in general," Shanks says. "But I'm not about to put anyone else up to guard you."

Something that might be a smirk passes across Shamrock's face.

"Don't be smug," Shanks tells him. "You've terrified my poor rookies, and all the old hands want you dead." He shakes his head. "You're gonna have a lot of convincing to do before anyone believe you're not out to kill us all."

"That's fine." Shamrock tries to lay back down slowly, but forgets he's down an arm and drops onto the bed hard enough to make Shanks wince-- especially with the choked whine through gritted teeth that escapes him. Shanks reaches out, not sure what comfort he can offer. He squeezes Shamrock's hand again, and this time it seems to make Shamrock relax.

"How'd you know it would work?" he asks suddenly. "You Knights are supposed to be stronger than that, even when Conqueror's is brought in to the game. How did you know that me cutting off your arm would work?"

For almost an entire minute, Shamrock doesn't answer. Shanks wonders if he's falling back asleep again. He settles into his own chair with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling as if it might have answers, and then--

"Would you believe me if I told you I knew because it had happened already?"

Shanks looks over. Shamrock's eyes are cold, even in the candlelight. Cold with the sort of determination that would drive a man to walk into a fight with every intention of maiming himself. Cold with a bitter, terrible knowledge of something that Shanks isn't sure he wants to know.

He leans forward anyway. "Tell me."