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A week before Easter, Roger dropped a bomb in the family group chat.
"This weekend's family gathering, we're having an Easter egg hunt! Whoever finds the most chocolate eggs wins! The prize is a limited-edition cream cake made by Rouge!"
The chat exploded instantly.
Luffy replied almost immediately: "I'm in!!! The champion is mine!!!"
Ace: "You couldn't find your way out of a paper bag, let alone win."
Luffy: "Ace, you underestimate me!"
Sabo: "Count me in."
Marco: "...Are you all children?"
Roger: "You're a child too! Everyone participates!"
Rayleigh chimed in lazily: "Too old to run. I'll spectate."
Shakky: "I'll hide the eggs."
Rouge: "I'll make the eggs! Lots and lots, enough for everyone to search all day!"
Sengoku: "...Need a referee?"
Rosinante: "I want to join!"
Shamrock didn't reply, but Law knew he was reading every message.
Law leaned back on the sofa, scrolling through the avalanche of messages on his phone. Shanks sat beside him, head resting on his shoulder, also looking at his phone, his grin already stretched from ear to ear.
"Egg hunt!" Shanks was lit up like fireworks. "I'm great at this! Law, just wait, the champion is definitely me!"
Law glanced at him, amused. "You're great at finding things?"
"Of course!" Shanks sat up straight, his eyes blazing. "My sense of smell and observation are top-notch! Last time you lost your keys, wasn't I the one who fished them out from under the sofa cushion?"
"...I put them there."
"I found them anyway!" Shanks said righteously. "And I'm fast, quick-witted, and full of energy-aren't those the perfect talents for an egg hunt?"
Law watched him enthusiastically tick off his own merits on his fingers. He looked like a large dog waiting for its owner's command, ready to sprint off and fetch a frisbee. He'd even unconsciously straightened his back, lifted his chin, his short red hair like a flickering flame under the light. His entire being had switched from "home mode" to "ready for action."
An image suddenly popped into Law's head-Shanks racing across the grass, nose to the ground, ears up, tail wagging furiously, a chocolate egg clamped in his mouth as he ran back, proudly dropped it at Law's feet, then sat down, looking up, waiting for praise.
He couldn't help but laugh. Not just a little smile, but a laugh that burst from his chest, uncontrollable.
Shanks froze, tilting his head in confusion. "What's so funny?"
Law didn't answer, but he couldn't stop laughing, his shoulders shaking. His mind was full of the image of that big red-haired dog frolicking on the lawn.
Shanks leaned in closer, trying to read Law's expression. "Law? What are you thinking about? What's so funny? Tell me!"
Law pushed his face away. "Nothing."
"Liar! You're totally laughing! And you look so happy!" Shanks persisted, his nose almost touching Law's face. "Are you thinking about me winning the champion?"
Law finally looked up, the remnants of laughter still in his golden eyes. Seeing Shanks's earnest, expectant expression, he suddenly found him unbearably cute.
"No." Law's lips curved into a mischievous smile. "I was just thinking-"
He drew out the words, watching Shanks's ears perk up.
"-dogs can't eat chocolate."
Silence.
Shanks's expression went from expectant to confused, from confused to blank, from blank to indignant.
"...LAW!!!"
He pounced, pinning Law to the sofa, burying his face in Law's neck, his voice muffled with protest: "I'm not really a dog! I'm your boyfriend! I can eat chocolate! Have you ever seen a boyfriend who can't eat chocolate?!"
Law could barely breathe under his weight, but he kept laughing. He patted the back of Shanks's head, and those red locks rubbed against his palm like a wronged big dog seeking comfort.
"I just said 'dogs can't eat chocolate.' I didn't say you," Law said, feigning innocence.
"You were obviously talking about me!" Shanks lifted his head, his red eyes wet with accusation, his lips slightly pouting. "You were looking at me and laughing, and then you said 'dogs can't eat chocolate'-if you weren't talking about me, then who?!"
Law didn't deny it, just kept smiling at him.
Shanks's face grew redder, not from shyness, but from the embarrassment of being caught red-handed. He opened his mouth to argue, but ultimately just buried his face back in Law's neck. "...Anyway, I'm not a dog. I can eat chocolate. I'm going to win the champion. And you're not allowed to laugh at me."
Law suppressed his laughter, running his fingers through Shanks's red hair. "Okay, I won't laugh."
"...You're still laughing." Shanks's voice was muffled against his neck.
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Your shoulders are shaking."
Law took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wasn't laughing at him-it was that soft, helpless kind of laugh you get when you see your own big dog wagging its tail and tearing around the yard.
"Okay, I'm done." Law finally got himself under control, planting a soft kiss on the top of Shanks's head. "Go get 'em, champion."
Shanks's head shot up, his red eyes sparkling. "You think I can win?"
"You said you were great at it, didn't you?"
"I'm super great!"
"Then go win."
Shanks grinned, leaning in to give Law a firm kiss on the lips. "Wait for me to bring you the champion's trophy!"
He sprang off the sofa and ran toward the closet, muttering about finding his lightest pair of running shoes. Law watched his retreating back, the smile still lingering on his lips.
"What's with him?" Shamrock's voice came from the study. He walked out holding a coffee cup, his calm gaze sweeping over the direction Shanks had disappeared, then landing on Law.
"Family gathering this weekend. They're doing an Easter egg hunt," Law explained.
Shamrock's expression didn't change, but Law noticed his eyebrow twitch almost imperceptibly-his tell for interest.
"An egg hunt," Shamrock repeated, as if confirming the information.
"Yes."
"A search competition targeting chocolate eggs."
"Yes."
Shamrock was silent for a moment, then set down his coffee cup, pulled out his phone, and began checking the calendar and weather.
"Saturday will be sunny, temperature 18-23 degrees Celsius, suitable for outdoor activities. The backyard is approximately 400 square meters, with twelve shrubs, six trees, eight flower beds, one fountain, and one swing set. Based on Mother and Auntie Shakky's past hiding habits, they tend to place items in blind spots, high places, and locations requiring physical effort. Shanks's physical data-his last medical report shows his vertical leap is above average for his age, his upper body strength is sufficient for climbing any tree, his reaction speed-"
"You don't need to analyze his physical data," Law interrupted, a little helpless.
Shamrock glanced at him briefly and continued as if nothing had happened: "I'm simply assessing his chances of winning. If I formulate a search strategy based on the terrain features and difficulty coefficients of the hiding spots, his success rate could reach-"
"Sham." Law interrupted again.
Shamrock finally stopped.
"Just say you want to make him a tactical plan," Law said directly.
The tips of Shamrock's ears turned slightly pink. He looked away, took a sip of his coffee to hide his embarrassment, and his voice dropped a notch: "...He never watches where he's running. Last time he was chasing a thief, he ran into a lamppost. The time before that, he scratched his arm on a tree branch in the park. And the time before that-"
"I get it. You're worried about him." Law smiled.
"I'm not worried." Shamrock denied it immediately, his speech speeding up. "I'm simply using historical data to determine that he needs pre-competition guidance to reduce the probability of injury."
Law didn't call him out on it, just nodded. "Then wait for him to come out and tell him yourself."
Shamrock was silent for a moment, then turned toward the study. "I'll make a search route map."
Law noticed his pace was a little faster than usual.
Before long, Shamrock was back, holding several sheets of A4 paper. He spread them on the coffee table, and Law leaned in to look. It was a detailed map of Roger's backyard, scaled down to the centimeter, with different colored zones marking the difficulty levels of various areas, recommended search routes, and estimated times for each spot.
The red zones were high-difficulty areas, concentrated in the treetops and dense shrubs. Blue zones were medium-difficulty, including flower beds, fountain crevices, and the swing set crossbar. Green zones were low-difficulty, mostly the edges of the lawn and low bushes.
Each route was numbered, from 1 to 15, with estimated times written beside them. In the bottom right corner of the map was a small line of text: "Designed based on Shanks's physical data and exercise habits. Follow the routes in order to maximize efficiency and reduce the risk of injury."
Law stared at the map, stunned. "...When did you draw this?"
"Last night. Preliminary modeling based on satellite maps and historical photos. This morning I made corrections based on Mother's provided hiding spots."
"Rouge told you where they are?"
"No. I analyzed the location data of items she's hidden during family gatherings over the past three years and summarized her preference patterns. There's a 76.3% probability she hides things above 1.5 meters, and a 54.7% probability she hides them in obstructed locations."
Law didn't know what to say.
When Shanks emerged from the closet, holding a pair of running shoes and muttering, "Found them! The lightest pair! The ones I wore for the marathon last time-" He saw the map on the coffee table and froze.
"What's this?"
"A search route map," Shamrock explained calmly. "An optimal search strategy formulated based on the terrain features, difficulty coefficients of the hiding spots, and your physical data. Following this route increases your chance of winning by 23.7%."
Shanks leaned in, his eyes growing wider and wider. "This is a satellite image of the backyard?"
"Yes."
"What are these red, blue, and green squares?"
"Difficulty zones."
"And these numbers?"
"Recommended search order."
"And this small text?" Shanks pointed to the line at the bottom right.
Shamrock looked away. "...Designed based on your physical data and exercise habits."
Shanks stared at the line for a long moment, then looked up at Shamrock in surprise. Shamrock wasn't looking at him; he was focused on some detail on the map, tapping it lightly with his finger.
"Were you worried I'd get hurt?" Shanks asked tentatively.
"Not worried. A risk assessment based on historical data." Shamrock was stubborn.
"Last time you mentioned me hitting the lamppost-were you watching from behind? And that time in the park when I scratched my arm on a branch, were you-"
"The cross-section of that branch posed a safety hazard. I had already submitted a trimming request to the city's parks department." Shamrock's words came even faster. "It was taken care of last week."
Shanks suddenly smiled. He walked over, carefully folded the map, and put it in his pocket. He patted his brother's shoulder. "Thanks, Shammy."
Shamrock's composure had returned. "No need to thank me. Just a suggestion based on data. Whether you follow it is up to you."
"I will. I'll search exactly the way you mapped out." Shanks was unusually serious.
Shamrock gave a small nod, picked up his coffee cup, and turned toward the study. "...Suit yourself."
Law watched his retreating figure, then looked at the pocket where Shanks had tucked the map, and smiled.
Shamrock would never admit it, but he was more nervous about this competition than anyone. His way of showing it was drawing a map accurate to the centimeter, calculating the difficulty coefficient of every hiding spot, and starting the data modeling three days in advance. His care was never spoken, but it lived in every tiny detail.
Easter Sunday arrived, and the weather was impossibly beautiful. Roger's backyard was bathed in sunlight, the lawn freshly cut, the scent of grass mixing with the dampness of the earth.
Rouge and Shakky had been hiding eggs since morning. According to Shakky, she'd hidden a few so well even she couldn't find them.
Roger stood on the back steps, whistle in hand, like a PE teacher announcing the rules: "Everyone gets a basket! Put the eggs you find in your own basket! No stealing! No fighting! No damaging the garden! Time limit is one hour! Go-"
Before the whistle had even faded, Shanks was off. But instead of heading for the biggest oak tree like everyone expected, he pulled the folded map from his pocket, glanced at it, and veered toward the flower bed on the left side of the yard.
Shamrock stood on the terrace, tablet in hand, his gaze fixed on Shanks. His fingers moved quickly across the screen, as if recording data in real-time.
Ace and Sabo exchanged a look and split up, one left, one right. Marco ambled along behind them, his expression saying "I'm being forced into this," but his pace wasn't slow.
As for Lucci-
He stood at the starting point, hands in the pockets of his outer coat, his gray-blue eyes calmly sweeping the yard. He didn't rush. His gaze scanned the terrain, calculating the optimal spots, and then-he also headed toward the flower bed.
The two arrived almost simultaneously.
Shanks, following the map's markings, reached into the flower bed and pulled out an egg. Lucci pulled one from a crevice in the stones on the other side.
They exchanged a glance, then turned and sprinted toward the next target.
Law stood on the terrace, a cup of tea in his hand, his eyes tracking Shanks.
He had climbed onto a low branch of the oak tree, half his body buried in the leaves, his red hair mussed, the hem of his T-shirt pulled out of his waistband. He looked a mess and yet-unbearably endearing. He found an egg, held it up to the sunlight, then carefully placed it in his basket, his face radiant with joy.
Law's lips curved upwards involuntarily. He shifted his gaze to Lucci.
Lucci was bent over by a flower bed, reaching gracefully into the thorns of a rose bush to retrieve an egg. The hem of his coat brushed the petals, picking up a little dew, but he didn't seem to care. He put the egg in his basket and swiftly locked onto his next target.
Their styles were completely different, but their speeds were matched.
Law looked at the others.
Luffy was wriggling through the shrubs, leaves stuck in his hair, yelling "I found one! I found one!" only to pull out a pinecone. Ace and Sabo had abandoned their partnership and were competing individually, occasionally trading insults. Marco was somehow sitting on the swing, holding an egg, swinging lazily-no one knew when he'd found it. Rosinante was crouched by the fountain, carefully reaching into a crevice in the stonework for an egg, with Sengoku standing behind him, not helping directly but watching over him, occasionally offering a word of advice.
Shamrock was sitting at a small table on the terrace, his tablet and a cup of coffee in front of him. He held a stopwatch, his gaze sweeping the field like radar, recording every participant's movements. When Law walked over, his fingers were tapping rapidly on the screen.
"What's the score?" Law asked casually.
Shamrock didn't look up. "Currently, Shanks and Lucci are tied for first, with seven eggs each. Luffy has four, but two of them are misidentified pinecones. Ace has five, Sabo has five. Marco has three. Rosinante has two. No other participants have recorded any valid finds yet."
Law glanced at the dense data table on his screen and couldn't help asking, "...You're even recording the misidentified pinecones?"
"Data integrity is important." Shamrock's voice was calm. "The number of misidentifications reflects a participant's judgment accuracy and is a key indicator of overall performance."
Law was silent for a moment. "...Rosinante found two?"
"Yes. One was in a crevice in the fountain sculpture, a high-difficulty location. Mr. Sengoku provided verbal guidance but did not participate directly." Shamrock paused, then added, "His ability to analyze hiding locations is above average. It may be related to his professional background."
Law watched Rosinante carefully feeling around the fountain and smiled.
Just then, a triumphant shout came from across the yard: "Number ten! I found number ten!"
It was Shanks. He stood beneath a wisteria trellis, holding a gold chocolate egg high above his head, sunlight illuminating his face. His T-shirt was completely untucked, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, grass stains and dirt on his arms, a small leaf in his hair-but he looked like the happiest person in the world.
Law's heart gave a sudden, heavy thump.
Shanks spotted him on the terrace and waved, his voice carrying across the yard: "Law! Did you see?! Ten! I'm ahead!"
From somewhere nearby, Lucci's cool voice drifted over: "I also have ten."
Shanks's head whipped around. "When did you-"
"Five minutes ago." Lucci emerged from behind a holly bush, his basket containing ten neatly arranged eggs, not one more, not one less.
Shanks's eyes widened. He gritted his teeth. "I'm not losing to you!"
"Whatever." Lucci's response was flat, but his pace picked up noticeably.
Luffy yelled from behind, "Wait for me! I'm coming too!" But he couldn't catch up.
Law stood on the terrace, watching these two grown men compete like children for chocolate eggs, and found the whole situation absurd. One was the president of the Figarland Group, the other the student council president of his school-and here they were in Roger's backyard, fighting tooth and nail over chocolate eggs.
But he noticed that Shanks paused at each new area to check his map before acting. His movements were more methodical than usual, less reckless. Before climbing high, he tested the branches. Before diving into a shrub, he pushed aside the thorny stems.
Once, when he jumped down from a tree, he landed awkwardly and stumbled. Shamrock's fingers froze on the tablet, his body leaning forward slightly, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. Only when Shanks steadied himself and waved toward the terrace did Shamrock lean back in his chair, his expression returning to neutral.
Luffy emerged from a shrub with leaves in his hair, saw Shanks running like the wind, and jumped up and down in agitation. "Lucci, hurry up! Look how fast Shanks is! He's so fast! Does he have a map?!"
Lucci's step faltered. A very brief, almost undetectable pause.
"Learn from him?" Lucci's voice was cold as ice.
The next moment, he moved.
He didn't run. He flowed. Like a leopard that had finally locked onto its prey, his body lowered, muscles coiling like compressed springs-then he launched. The tails of his coat cut a sharp arc through the air. His feet barely seemed to touch the ground, but every step landed on the optimal trajectory, as if a precision instrument were executing a calculated program.
He wasn't running. He was hunting.
Luffy's jaw dropped. "Whoa! Lucci's so fast!"
Lucci didn't look back, but his chilly voice drifted over: "Shut up."
Meanwhile, Shanks had already jumped down from the oak tree, two eggs in hand, a smug grin on his face. He turned to head for his next target, only to see a dark figure streak past the corner of his eye-fast as the wind, silent, carrying a sharp pressure.
Shanks's eyes widened.
Lucci swept past him without a glance. His gray-blue eyes were fixed ahead, pupils slightly contracted, fully in hunting mode. His speed was increasing steadily, not an explosive sprint but a smooth acceleration, faster with each second, like a finely tuned engine.
Shanks stared for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. "Interesting!"
He took off after him.
They raced into the deeper part of the yard, one after the other. Shanks ran with fiery exuberance, red hair flying, his footsteps heavy and powerful, each step thudding into the grass like an excited large dog. Lucci ran with icy precision, almost silent, his coat hugging his body, each step landing in the spaces between Shanks's, like an elegant, deadly panther.
They stopped simultaneously in front of a shrub. Shanks reached for the left side, Lucci for the right. Their movements were almost synchronized, like mirror images.
Shanks pulled out an egg, holding it up triumphantly: "I got it first!"
Lucci pulled out an egg too, expressionless. "Simultaneous."
"It was clearly me!"
"The time difference was less than 0.3 seconds. Statistically, that's simultaneous."
"How are you calculating that?!"
"Not calculating. Sensing."
Shanks glared at him, then turned and sprinted toward the next target. He pulled out his map, glanced at it, then veered toward the swing set.
Lucci followed, his eyes flicking to the map in Shanks's hand. His gray-blue gaze narrowed. "You have a map?"
"I have a tactical plan!" Shanks said smugly, reaching up to grab an egg from the crossbar of the swing set. "My brother made it for me!"
Lucci was silent for half a second. Then his speed increased another notch.
On the terrace, Shamrock's fingers flew across his tablet. Law leaned over to look. The screen showed a real-time data sheet tracking Shanks's time in each zone, the number of eggs found, and-an estimated heart rate.
"You can estimate his heart rate?" Law asked.
"Calculated from his movement speed and impact force when landing." Shamrock didn't look up. "Currently around 120, within the safe range."
Law looked at the dense data on his screen and thought that this competition might be even more stressful for Shamrock than for Shanks.
They reached the wisteria trellis at the same time.
Shanks circled left, Lucci circled right. They met in the middle, both reaching for an egg hanging from the top of the trellis.
Their fingers touched the shell at the same moment.
They glared at each other. The air crackled.
"Mine!" Shanks tightened his grip.
"Mine," Lucci's voice was cold as ice.
They both pulled. The egg didn't budge.
"Let go."
"You let go."
"Why me?!"
"You touched it first. According to the principle of prior appropriation-"
"This is an Easter egg hunt, not a courtroom!"
"Basic legal principles apply to any competition."
Shanks's face was red with anger, but he didn't loosen his grip. Lucci's expression remained cold, but he was also pulling harder. The eggshell made a soft cracking sound. They both froze, loosening their grips slightly.
"...If this breaks, you're paying for it," Shanks grumbled.
"You have a higher probability of breaking it," Lucci retorted.
"How do you figure?!"
"Experience."
Luffy had appeared beside them, crouching and watching the two of them struggle over the egg. He simply reached out and took it.
"Found it!" Luffy cheered.
Shanks and Lucci both turned to stare at him.
Luffy blinked innocently. "What? You weren't taking it, so I helped."
"I was taking it!" Shanks yelled.
"I was taking it," Lucci echoed, his voice an icebox.
Luffy had already dropped the egg into his own basket and was grinning. "Finders keepers!"
Shanks and Lucci exchanged another look, then simultaneously let go, turned, and sprinted toward the tree behind Luffy-because there was another egg up there.
Luffy was left standing there, his hair blown back by the wind from the two passing bodies. "Huh? You're not fighting over it anymore?"
No one answered.
Shanks and Lucci were already at the base of the tree, looking up at the egg on the highest branch.
"I'll go up," they said in unison.
They glared at each other.
"I'm faster."
"I have better balance."
"I'm a quicker climber!"
"I'm more efficient."
"Want to bet?"
"Let's."
They started climbing simultaneously. Shanks scrambled up using both hands and feet, like an agile large dog, claws digging into the bark. Lucci's movements were more elegant, his fingers finding precise handholds, his body flowing up the trunk like a cat, every step stable.
On the terrace, Shamrock stood up.
He had been sitting calmly, fingers moving methodically across the tablet. But now he was on his feet, the tablet on the table, both hands gripping the edge, his eyes locked on Shanks in the tree.
Law noticed. Shamrock's shoulders were tense, his jaw set, his lips pressed into a thin line. His expression was still calm, but it was a fragile calm, one that could shatter at any moment.
Shanks was halfway up when his foot slipped, and he dropped half a meter.
"Sham-" Law started, but Shamrock had already stepped forward, leaning out, one hand on the table, the other raised as if to catch him.
Shanks managed to steady himself. He grabbed a thicker branch, caught his breath, and kept climbing.
Shamrock froze, his fingers white-knuckled on the table's edge. He didn't sit back down. He stood there, head tilted back, watching Shanks inch toward the highest branch.
"He's okay," Law said softly.
Shamrock didn't answer. But his breathing was a little faster than usual; Law could see his chest rising and falling.
They reached the branch almost simultaneously. It sagged under their combined weight, groaning. Shanks and Lucci both stopped, looking at each other.
"Don't move," they said together.
"You'll break it."
"Your movement is wider than mine."
"It is not!"
"It is. You weigh about five kilograms more than me, plus your center of gravity shift-"
"Can you not do the data analysis right now?!"
The branch groaned again. They both shut up, frozen.
Shanks looked down at the ground, then at the egg. He looked nervously at Lucci. "What now?"
Lucci considered for a moment. "I'll let go. You take it."
Shanks was taken aback. "You're letting me take it?"
"Your arm span is 2.3 centimeters longer than mine. Success probability is 11.7% higher. Besides..." He paused. "Your brother is watching. If you fall, he'll probably have to redraw the map."
Shanks glanced toward the terrace.
Shamrock was still standing there, gripping the table's edge, his eyes fixed on them. Even from this distance, his tension was palpable.
Shanks turned back. "Thanks, man."
He reached out carefully, his fingers touching the shell, and gently pulled. The egg came loose.
"Got it!" Shanks held it up, the sunlight dappling the shell through the leaves.
On the terrace, Shamrock's grip on the table finally relaxed. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly, and he slowly sat back down, calmly picking up his now-cold coffee and taking a sip.
But Law could see his hands were trembling slightly.
Lucci slid down the tree, landing silently. Shanks followed, stumbling on the landing, and Lucci grabbed the back of his collar to steady him.
"Stand up straight," Lucci said gruffly, then let go and headed for the next target.
Once he was steady, Shanks looked toward the terrace. Shamrock was sitting again, looking down at his computer, his expression hidden.
Shanks smiled and waved toward the terrace anyway, then went back to hunting.
When time was called, everyone gathered on the lawn. Shamrock stood on the steps, tablet in hand, announcing the results.
"First place: Shanks and Lucci, tied, with seventeen chocolate eggs each."
Shanks let out a whoop and started to lunge toward Law, but was stopped by a look from Shamrock.
"Second place: Ace and Sabo, tied, with eleven eggs each."
Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance, both snorting, but smiles played on their lips.
"Third place: Luffy, with seven eggs, including four misidentified pinecones, for a total of three valid finds."
Luffy's face fell. "Those four weren't pinecones! They were camouflaged!"
No one paid him any attention.
"Fourth place: Marco, with six eggs."
Marco leaned against the swing set, waving a lazy hand. "It's the taking part that counts."
"Fifth place: Rosinante, with five eggs."
Rosinante smiled and applauded, Sengoku standing behind him, his expression uncharacteristically warm.
"The remaining participants recorded no valid finds," Shamrock announced mercilessly.
Roger pretended to be offended. "What do you mean no valid finds?! I found one!"
"That one was hidden by me. And you trampled three of my tulips." Rouge's voice was gentle.
Roger shut up.
Shanks hadn't been listening to the other results. He bounded over to Law, his basket full of chocolate eggs, like a large dog bringing back its prey, his tail-if he had one-wagging furiously.
"Law! Look!" Shanks held the basket up to Law's face. Seventeen chocolate eggs were neatly arranged inside, their gold wrappers sparkling in the sun. "Seventeen! First place! I told you I could win!"
His face was flushed, sweat on his forehead, his red hair a bird's nest, grass stains on his shirt sleeves, a smear of mud on his pants, and a streak of dirt on his cheek. But his eyes shone like stars, his smile stretched from ear to ear, radiating pure, uncomplicated joy.
Law looked at his disheveled state, remembering the image from earlier-Shanks emerging from the bushes, leaves in his hair, holding up two eggs and shouting to Lucci, "I found another one!" At that moment, he wasn't a corporate president or a rich heir. He was just a happy, free-spirited man running wild on the grass.
Law couldn't help but smile.
Shanks waited for his praise, not getting it, and looked at him plaintively. "Why are you laughing? I got first place!"
Law's lips curved, his golden eyes soft. "Dogs can't eat chocolate," he said mischievously.
Silence.
Then-
Luffy burst out laughing first, rolling on the ground. "Hahahaha! Shanks is a dog! Dogs can't eat chocolate!"
Ace was slapping his thigh, Sabo was doubled over, Marco spat out his tea, Rayleigh nearly dropped his glass, Shakky was leaning on Rouge's shoulder laughing, Roger was slapping Rosinante's back, and even Sengoku turned his head away, his shoulders shaking.
Lucci's mouth twitched. He seemed to be trying to maintain his composure, but failed. He actually let out a brief laugh before returning to his stoic expression, but Luffy had heard it.
"Lucci, you laughed!" Luffy exclaimed.
"No, I didn't." Lucci's expression was blank, but his ears were pink.
"Yes, you did! I heard you!"
"You're hearing things."
Luffy tried to argue, but was drowned out by the laughter.
Shanks's face turned crimson. "I'm not a dog! I'm a person! I can eat chocolate!"
No one listened. The laughter grew louder.
Shanks turned to Law, his red eyes full of accusation and hurt, his lips pouting, like a large dog being publicly embarrassed, its ears and tail drooping.
"Law! You did that on purpose! You waited until just then to say it! You wanted to embarrass me!"
Law didn't deny it. He just smirked at him.
Shanks got even more upset, his voice turning nasal. "I got first place... and instead of praising me, you laugh at me... I followed Shamrock's route exactly, didn't miss a single one, checked the branches, was careful in the bushes, I didn't get hurt at all..."
His voice trailed off, like a big dog ignored by its owner, its tail slowly sagging.
Law's heart softened. He was about to say something when Shamrock's voice came from beside them.
"He ran the correct route," Shamrock said, putting away his tablet and walking over, his tone matter-of-fact. "Seventeen eggs, not a single miss. Time: 47 minutes, three minutes faster than estimated. No scratches from the bushes, center of gravity shift on landing within safe parameters..." He paused. "He did well."
Shanks stared at Shamrock, stunned. Then his eyes suddenly grew red-not from hurt, but from being acknowledged by the person whose opinion mattered most.
"Shammy... were you really watching me run?" Shanks's voice cracked with emotion.
Shamrock looked away, his ears turning pink. "I was recording everyone's scores. It's the referee's job."
"How do you know my center of gravity shifted when I landed?"
"...Observational skills are a basic referee competency."
"How do you know I didn't scratch myself in the bushes?"
Shamrock didn't answer. He turned toward the table. "I need to organize the data."
Shanks lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his brother from behind. Shamrock's body went rigid, like a cat suddenly attacked, every muscle tensing.
"Let go." Shamrock's voice was higher than usual.
"No!" Shanks refused, burying his face in Shamrock's shoulder. "Shamrock, you're the best! The best brother in the whole world! Thank you for making me the map! Thank you for watching over me! Thank you for-" His voice cracked again. "Thank you for always being worried about me."
Shamrock's ears were practically glowing red. He stood frozen, his hands at his sides, not knowing what to do.
Law walked over and patted Shanks's shoulder. "Okay, he's about to suffocate."
Shanks loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, still hanging on Shamrock like a stubborn large dog.
Shamrock took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "...Your chocolate eggs are going to melt."
"AH!" Shanks let go immediately and ran back to check his basket. "My eggs! My first-place eggs!"
Shamrock's clothes were rumpled. He straightened his collar and looked at Law.
Law could see the tiniest, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth.
"...He's so loud," Shamrock complained.
"Yeah," Law agreed, smiling.
"So clingy."
"I know."
"So childish."
"Definitely."
Shamrock was silent for a moment. "...But he ran well. He didn't get hurt."
Law's smile widened. "You did well too."
Shamrock turned quickly and walked back to the table, starting to organize his data. His movements were a little faster than usual, and the pink in his ears lingered.
Shanks came running back, his basket of eggs, and pulled out the biggest one, holding it out to Shamrock. "Here! A first-place trophy!"
Shamrock looked at the egg, not taking it. "I don't need it."
"Just take it! Thank you for making me the map." Shanks shoved it into his hand.
Shamrock looked down at the egg, was silent for a few seconds, then peeled off the wrapper and took a bite. "...Too sweet."
"Sweet is good!" Shanks winked at him, then ran back to Law, holding up the basket. "Law! Your turn!"
Law watched him, tail wagging (metaphorically) and waiting for praise, and his heart melted. He reached into the basket and picked up an egg, weighing it in his hand.
"Eating too much chocolate will make you fat," Law teased.
"I'm not afraid of getting fat!" Shanks said immediately.
"If you get fat, I won't want you anymore." Law smirked.
Shanks's smile vanished. His eyes widened in panic, his mouth opening and closing. The triumph in his red eyes turned to terror, like a large dog who'd just heard "I don't want you anymore," his whole world crumbling.
"No!" He lunged forward, grabbing Law tightly, chocolate eggs tumbling from the basket and scattering on the ground, but he didn't care. His arms were locked around Law's waist, his whole body trembling.
"You can't not want me!" Shanks buried his face in Law's neck, his voice panicked and pleading. "Once you adopt a pet, you can't abandon it! It's the rule! The law! The constitution! An international convention! Shamrock, you be the judge!"
Shamrock took another bite of his chocolate egg, expressionless. "No such clause in any international convention."
"Then add one!" Shanks wailed.
Law could barely breathe, but his heart was full. He patted the back of Shanks's head. "I'm not going to not want you."
"You said you would!" Shanks lifted his head, his red eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You said if I got fat, you wouldn't want me!"
"I said 'if you get fat, I might not want you.' It's a conditional clause."
"Conditional clauses don't count!" Shanks buried his face again. "You can't not want me anyway. You have to want me even if I get fat."
Law suppressed a laugh, running his fingers through Shanks's red hair. "You won't get fat."
"What if I do?"
"Then I'll still want you. Even if you're a beach ball." Law smiled.
Shanks's body stilled, then slowly relaxed. He lifted his head, his red eyes still wet, his nose a little pink, like a big dog who'd been scared by its owner and then comforted.
"Really?" he asked doubtfully.
"Yeah," Law assured him.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Shanks stared at his face for a long moment, checking for any sign of a lie, then crushed his mouth against Law's in a hard kiss. Then he buried his face in Law's neck again, rubbing against him like a cat, his metaphorical tail wagging furiously. "That's a relief. I thought you really didn't want me anymore."
Law's hand patted his back gently, like calming a startled large dog. His lips curved, his golden eyes full of tenderness and indulgence. "You got first place."
Shanks lifted his head, his eyes brightening. "You really watched?"
"I watched." Law smiled, reaching up to pick a small leaf from Shanks's hair. "You ran fast. The competition with Lucci was exciting."
Shanks grinned at him, then suddenly remembered something. He picked the biggest egg from the scattered pile on the ground and put it in his mouth-not holding it with his hand, but clamping it between his teeth. He ran back to the lawn with the egg in his mouth, then turned and ran back toward Law, his red hair flying in the wind, the tails of his shirt flapping like a flag. His steps were light and powerful, each one landing in a patch of sunlight.
Law stood frozen, watching him approach.
Shanks stopped in front of him, crouched down, and looked up, the gold egg held in his mouth, his tail-if he had one-wagging uncontrollably behind him. His eyes were impossibly bright, reflecting the sunlight, reflecting Law's figure, reflecting a pure, unadulterated joy.
He placed the egg at Law's feet, then sat back on his heels, hands on his knees, looking up.
Law stared at him. The image in his head was perfectly superimposed over reality-Shanks racing across the grass, nose to the ground, ears up, tail wagging furiously, a chocolate egg in his mouth, running back to proudly drop it at Law's feet, then sitting, waiting for praise.
And now he was really crouched there. Thirty-one years old, president of the Figarland Group, crouching in the sunlight, looking up, waiting for Law to say "Good boy."
Law was silent for a long time.
So long that Shanks's expression started to shift from expectant to confused, from confused to hurt. His ears-if he had them-slowly drooped.
"Law?" he called softly.
Law finally snapped out of it. He crouched down to Shanks's level. "Are you a dog?" he asked, exasperated.
Shanks blinked, his hurt expression slowly transforming into a smile, like the sun breaking through the clouds. "You tell me."
Law laughed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Shanks immediately closed his eyes, a contented rumble in his throat as he nuzzled into Law's palm.
"Good boy," Law said, smiling.
Shanks's metaphorical tail was probably spinning like a propeller. He leaned in, rubbing his face against Law's, his nose brushing Law's cheekbone, his lips grazing Law's ear. "What's my reward?" he whispered.
Law picked up the egg from the ground, peeled off the wrapper, and held it to Shanks's lips.
Shanks took a bite. The chocolate melted on his tongue, sweet and rich, and he thought it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. He rested his chin on Law's knee and looked up at him.
"Lucci said that from the start to the finish of the competition, 83% of your gaze was on me," Shanks mumbled around the chocolate.
Law's ears turned bright red.
Shanks's eyes sparkled. "Is it true?"
Law looked away. "...Don't listen to him."
"That means it's true." Shanks gave him another quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, grinning. "I was watching you the whole time too."
Law didn't answer, but a small smile lingered on his lips.
The gold wrappers of the chocolate eggs sparkled on the grass like scattered stars.
Luffy was still chasing Lucci, insisting "You laughed!" Lucci was denying it, but the tips of his ears were still pink.
Ace and Sabo were comparing their eggs, arguing over who had more.
Marco was lying on the grass, sunbathing, a few empty eggshells beside him.
Rosinante was sharing his eggs with Sengoku, who said he didn't want any but took them anyway.
Rayleigh and Shakky were on the swing, rocking gently, watching the lively scene with warm eyes.
Shamrock was still tapping on his tablet, but his gaze kept drifting over to Shanks. After confirming that he'd had a good day, he went back to his records. At the bottom of the data sheet, he typed a few words:
"Participant: Shanks. Result: First place. Note: No injuries. Execution efficiency: Excellent. Emotional state: Positive."
He saved the file and closed the screen. The small smile at the corner of his mouth lingered for a long time.
Shanks, like a large dog who'd finally tired itself out, buried his face in Law's lap, his ears still up, his tail still gently wagging. The sunlight fell on his back, on his messy red hair, on his skin, warm from exertion.
Law's hand rested on his head, his fingers slowly combing through his hair. Shanks's breathing gradually steadied, his whole body relaxing like butter melting in the sun.
Law looked down at the fuzzy red head in his lap.
He remembered the first time he'd met Shanks. The man had been wearing a perfectly tailored suit, dealing with a group of difficult businessmen at a gala, his voice steady, his logic clear, every word precise. Everyone called him "Mr. Figarland." No one dared meet his eyes.
And now this man was asleep in his lap, chocolate on his lips, his breathing slow and deep, like a large dog who'd run itself ragged.
Law didn't wake him. He took off his jacket and draped it over Shanks's shoulders, covering part of his face. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the gingko tree, falling on him like scattered gold.
Law bent and kissed the top of his head softly.
"Good boy," he whispered again, so quietly, as if afraid of waking a sleeping dog.
Shanks stirred in his sleep, nuzzling against Law's knee, a small smile on his lips, dreaming of something.
Maybe the next competition. Maybe the next chocolate egg. Maybe the next time he'd come running back with his prize, crouch in front of Law, look up, and wait for praise.
And what he'd always hear would be the same thing-
Good boy.