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There was something different about the air of Kuraigana that morning.
For the first time in decades, the gloom that constantly covered the island seemed to have lifted.
The soft light of dawn permeated through the forest, slowly warming the fur of the humandrils as they finally slept. They had been up all night, just outside the outskirts of the castle, waiting.
Now, it had happened, and they could rest.
With the world government dissolved after the war, it was easy for the island’s previous resident to reclaim it. After a few years of repairing the damage done by the navy, it was finally a proper home again- maybe even more so than it had been prior.
All rooms of the castle were fully renovated now, an entire wing of guest rooms for the various visitors they would entertain. The garden was flourishing, bigger than ever before now that there was time to tend to it daily without interruption from their other duties. Now, living was the only duty they had. The first blossoms of summer squash had appeared days before, and a basket of tomatoes lay abandoned in a half-picked row.
Offshore, two ships were anchored, bobbing only slightly as the calm seemed to extend to even the sea. Soon, those aboard would be informed of what had occurred on the island and they would rock the boats and churn the waters in their celebrations, but for now they slept as well.
In the castle’s kitchen, the only four guests that had been allowed inside that night slumped against the counter, cups of coffee sat in front of them abandoned as the bitter drink no longer seemed to help stave off sleep now that the adrenaline had started to leave their bodies. What remained was relief- and an overwhelming joy.
Zoro and Perona- Mihawk’s former wards and quasi children (at least according to Shanks, the other three would argue differently)- leaned against each other for support, Zoro’s arm wrapped around Perona’s thin shoulders as she wiped away the last of the tears she had shed when the other two had joined them downstairs with the news.
One of them was at Zoro’s other side, letting the swordsman’s steady weight support him as his eyes fell shut, resting before he was needed again. The other doctor, the final guest in the castle, was putting together a plate of fruits to bring upstairs.
Once he had delivered the food he planned to slip back onto the Red Force, hopeful for a few hours of rest before the crew woke. His captain shouldn’t need him, and Law would remain in the castle with Zoro if anything did come up.
Hongo silently entered the master suite, careful not to disturb the others as he set the fruit down on the table just inside the entry without a word. He backed out of the room, a soft smile on his face as he took in the scene before him one more time before closing the door with a soft click.
Shanks looked up once again, smiling at how the morning light cast soft shadows over his husband’s pale skin and illuminated his sparkling eyes. Eyes that struck fear into so many; yet for Shanks, all he ever saw was love reflected back. But Mihawk wasn’t looking at him; not this time.
Instead, he was looking down at what Shanks held in his arm, tiny and nestled into the crook of his elbow.
Their son.
Exhausted from being brought into the world, along with the tests the two doctors did afterwards to confirm he was perfect and healthy, the baby now slept soundly. His nose scrunched and a soft whine echoed through the room as he squirmed slightly in the blanket he was swaddled in.
Shanks had seen that face many times before- on the man that was plastered against his back, arms wrapped around the both of them- and he knew that if the baby were to open his eyes they would be a mirror of Mihawk’s as well.
His hair however, soft and whispy, concentrated on the top of the round head, making him look very much like a baby bird, was all Shanks. He brushed a hand over the striking red tuft and felt his eyes well with tears once more, leaning back even further into his husband’s embrace.
After placing a soft kiss against Shank’s pulse Mihawk tucked his chin over his shoulder so he could peer down at their treasure.
“He’s so small,” Shanks whispered.
If he tried, he could easily fit the infant in the palm of his hand. Both men were rather large, so he had expected a large baby in turn. Instead, here was this tiny, tiny creature, the size of one of the melons that grew out in the garden, relying entirely on them.
If they hadn’t already done so, he would turn the entire world on its head to keep him safe.
“He’s perfect,” Mihawk whispered in response, reaching his own hand down to brush a thumb over one of his chubby cheeks, still in awe of how soft the skin was. The baby turned his head toward the touch, seeking it out, but didn’t wake.
Neither man had ever imagined that they could have something like this- not with who they were.
Shanks had poisoned blood in his veins. It was something he hated himself for for so long, and he never would have passed that on to a child of his own- doomed to be thought of as property of the celestial dragons, hunted down their entire life.
No matter how many times Mihawk told his husband that his family didn’t define him, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter entirely. The old world was too dangerous for them to have a family of their own, and they had accepted it years ago.
They had managed to make do, to find family in their crews, their friends, and each other. Shanks had found Luffy, and eventually Mihawk had Zoro and Perona.
And then, Shanks’ boy had changed everything.
The blood that ran through Shanks’ veins was now his alone, no one left to tie it to any evil. There was no one coming after them.
They had retired to Kuraigana, Shanks giving his crew time to return to their families, spend time on their own, or do whatever else they desired. They would still sail together a few times a year, and would always be a crew loyal to their captain, but a few years break was well deserved.
Mihawk didn’t leave the island much- would much rather entertain visitors there. He had enough of dealing with people he didn’t wish to during his time as a Warlord. And, as he had only admitted to himself and to Shanks, visitors helped make the halls of the castle feel a little less empty.
The garden was filled with crops he had planted with others in mind. Tomatoes for Crocodile, raspberry bushes to make jam for Perona, and had even started to learn how to grow and ferment rice to make his own saké for when Zoro visited.
Perona visited the most often, would spend months at a time with them. Sometimes, when Zoro was visiting at the same time, Mihawk was filled with an overwhelming nostalgia for the two years they both called the castle their home.
It was right after one of these visits, when Mihawk found himself missing the arguments and laughter, that he brought up the idea to Shanks.
Of having a child of their own.
Shanks was immediately mystified at the idea of a tiny mix of him and his beloved crawling through the halls. He wouldn’t say that his life no longer had a purpose after the war, but that purpose had started to lack definition. A baby though, he would devote everything he hadn’t already given to Mihawk to that child.
They hadn’t told anyone at first, wanting to have something for themselves for as long as they could. But then Luffy accompanied Zoro on one of his impromptu visits, and everyone quickly found out after that.
Their boy came into the world kicking and screaming, defiant just like his fathers. They both cried.
Shanks turned in the bed, letting Mihawk take hold of their son in his arm now as he curled into the man’s side, leaning his head against his shoulder. He was struggling to fight off sleep, but didn’t want to miss a second of time with his baby.
Mihawk held both of them, looking down at his son as he let his cheek rest against the top of his husband’s head. It had been a long night, but their boy was here, and he was more than Mihawk could have ever imagined.
A part of him had hoped that the baby would look exactly like Shanks, but when he looked at his own features mirrored back at him he was overwhelmed with feelings he had never felt before. This baby was his.
As if reading his thoughts, Shanks reached out again, brushing a finger against the tiny palm of one of the boy’s hands, breath catching as his hand wrapped around it and held tight.
“He’s so smart. So strong. I can’t believe we made that.”
“He certainly can’t take after you.”
He knew his husband wouldn’t take him seriously. He had told him how he truly felt in between sobs when they first welcomed the tiny boy. That he was so so proud of him, that Mihawk would never be able to pay him back for giving him this blessing. That he loved them both more than life itself.
Law had told them both to sleep while the baby did- that it was the only way they would be getting any rest for a while- but neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes. Not when they could watch their tiny boy sleep instead, his round belly expanding with every breath, eyes darting around beneath thin lids as he dreamed.
“What do you think he’s dreaming about?” Mihawk muttered, captivated by the sight.
“He’s your son,” Shanks replied as he moved his finger around, grinning as the baby continued to cling tightly, “he’s definitely dreaming about swords or something.”
Mihawk hummed. “Maybe gardening. I think he’ll enjoy playing in the dirt.”
Shanks couldn’t believe his husband would consider letting a child in his garden. Shanks wasn’t even allowed, not after that time he tripped on a vine and crushed one of Mihawk’s favorite pumpkins.
The man had pouted for days, and after Shanks found out that he had been growing that one to carve with Perona on her next visit, he made a call to Beck and had an almost identical gourd delivered a few days later. It had gotten Mihawk to smile again, but Shanks was still banned from doing anything but help pick beans- Mihawk’s least favorite task.
He bet their boy would take after Mihawk though, would be soft and gentle with his hands, letting life flourish in them.
Shanks knew that side of Mihawk’s touch better than anyone. He also knew the deadly side better than most as well.
His smile grew even wider when he realized that their boy would never need to learn that. He was still their son, and, as long as it was something he was interested in, they would certainly teach him the art of swordsmanship, but he would never need to wield it like them- would never need to use it to survive.
He was so excited to watch Mihawk be a father. He was so good with Zoro and Perona already, but they were grown. They didn’t need the soft understanding that a child would- at least most of the time- but he was gentle in his own way, and Shanks knew he was going to be so good with their boy.
Shanks knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by love, and he knew that his son would never want for anything. But he also knew what it was like to have the weight of the world on your shoulders. His boy was going to grow up to be anything he wanted to be, and just the idea brought more tears to his eyes.
Mihawk placed a kiss into his hair- the only thing he could do with his arms otherwise occupied- and adjusted his hold on the baby to bring him closer to Shanks. In this new position Shanks was able to wrap his arm around him as well, the boy nestled snuggly in between both of their chests.
They hadn’t come up with a name yet- one that fit him would come with time, and they weren’t in any sort of hurry. Somehow, Mihawk had a feeling that Luffy was going to be the one to suggest the name that stuck, and what an honor being named by the liberator of the world would be.
When he glanced back down, he saw that Shanks had finally lost the fight against sleep, his mouth parted slightly as he huffed soft breaths against the older man’s collar bone.
In his arms, their son began to stir. His eyes blinked open slightly, seeming to focus on his dad above him, even if Mihawk knew he wasn’t able to see that far yet. He hadn’t started crying at least, so there was hope he would fall asleep again and Shanks could continue to rest.
Even if he couldn’t see him, Hongo had said he would recognize his father’s voices. So Mihawk started to hum- the same tune that he had taken to humming every night over the past several months to soothe both his husband and baby.
It worked immediately, as it always did, and the tiny boy’s eyes fell shut once more.
Mihawk would remain awake.
Sleep would be an excellent excuse to escape the intense celebrations he knew would occur when the day officially began, and for now, he’d much rather watch his boys- sleeping safely in a world that once, not too long ago, was against their very existence.
But never again.
His boys would know love, happiness, and freedom- every day for as long as he remained.