Work Text:
It had been one year since the World Government fell.
One year since Mary Geoise had ceased to be the untouchable kingdom above the clouds.
One year since the Celestial Dragons had lost the protection that had made them gods in their own minds.
Some had been arrested.
Some had been dragged before newly formed courts to answer for their crimes.
Others had disappeared entirely.
Those who still had wealth bought false names and hid behind locked doors. Those who had loyal servants escaped aboard private ships. A few vanished into distant kingdoms where no one cared enough to ask questions.
And then there were those who had lost everything.
Shamrock Figarland was one of them.
Once, the mere sight of him had caused soldiers to straighten their backs.
Commander of the Holy Knights.
Son of Saint Garling Figarland.
A Celestial Dragon born into one of the most powerful families in Mary Geoise.
He had possessed servants, fine clothing, weapons forged by master craftsmen, rooms larger than entire houses, and authority that could make lesser nobles tremble.
Now he possessed a torn cloak.
A battered pair of boots.
And half a loaf of bread.
He held that bread against his chest as if it were treasure.
“Give it here.”
Shamrock backed against the wall of the narrow alley.
Three men stood between him and the street.
The largest of them cracked his knuckles.
“You deaf?”
Shamrock’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Then hand it over.”
Shamrock looked down at the loaf.
He had spent nearly everything he had earned unloading fishing boats that morning on it.
It was supposed to last two days.
Maybe three if he was careful.
His stomach twisted painfully.
He hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.
“No.”
The men laughed.
The sound made something hot and humiliating crawl up Shamrock’s throat.
There had been a time when refusing him would have meant death.
Now he was the one being cornered.
The large man stepped closer.
“You people really don’t learn, do you?”
Shamrock’s eyes narrowed.
“You people?”
“Celestial Dragons.”
The title sounded different now.
Once it had carried reverence.
Fear.
Now it carried hatred.
Shamrock said nothing.
The man sneered.
“You think growing your hair out and wearing garbage makes people forget that face?”
Shamrock instinctively lowered his head.
His red hair, once perfectly groomed and maintained, hung unevenly around his shoulders. Dirt clung to several strands.
His clothes were little better.
A shirt with patches sewn over patches.
Trousers worn thin at the knees.
A cloak he had found abandoned near the docks months ago.
He hated mirrors now.
He hated reflections in windows.
He hated seeing what he had become.
The man reached for the bread.
Shamrock jerked it away.
“I said no.”
“You don’t get to say no anymore.”
A fist slammed into Shamrock’s stomach.
He folded forward with a gasp.
Someone grabbed his shoulder and shoved him against the wall.
The bread nearly fell from his hands.
“No!”
Shamrock clutched it tighter.
The men laughed again.
“Look at him!”
“Former commander of the Holy Knights fighting over a loaf of bread.”
Shamrock’s face burned.
He wished they would hit him harder.
Anything was better than their laughter.
Another hand grabbed the bread.
Shamrock pulled back desperately.
“Please.”
The word escaped before he could stop it.
He froze.
So did the men.
Then their laughter became louder.
“Did Saint Figarland just say please?”
“Maybe we should make him beg.”
Shamrock closed his eyes.
He wanted to disappear.
He wanted the ground to open and swallow him.
Then a calm voice came from the entrance of the alley.
“I think you’ve had enough fun.”
Everyone turned.
A tall man stood there.
Dark hair.
Long coat.
Rifle resting casually across one shoulder.
A cigarette between his lips.
Shamrock’s heart stopped.
Benn Beckman.
Of all the people in the world.
Of all the pirates who could have been standing there.
It had to be him.
The first mate of the Red Hair Pirates.
The right hand of Shamrock’s estranged twin brother.
Benn’s eyes moved over the scene once.
The three men.
Shamrock against the wall.
The bruises beginning to form across his face.
The bread clutched protectively against his chest.
Benn’s expression hardened.
“Walk away.”
One of the men scoffed.
“This isn’t your business.”
Benn lowered his rifle from his shoulder.
“It became my business when I decided it was.”
Recognition spread across the man’s face.
His confidence disappeared instantly.
“Wait.”
Benn raised an eyebrow.
“Problem?”
“N-No.”
The men backed away.
One pointed toward Shamrock.
“He’s a Celestial Dragon.”
Benn’s gaze flicked toward Shamrock.
“I know who he is.”
That somehow made the humiliation worse.
Shamrock lowered his head.
The men hesitated only another second before hurrying out of the alley.
Silence followed.
Shamrock remained against the wall.
He wished Benn would leave.
He wished Benn would laugh.
He almost wished Benn would insult him.
Anything would be easier than the quiet concern on the pirate’s face.
Benn slung his rifle over his shoulder again.
“You hurt?”
Shamrock stared at the ground.
“No.”
“That looked like it hurt.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Benn stepped closer.
Shamrock immediately stiffened.
“Easy.”
Benn stopped several feet away.
“I’m not going to touch you.”
Shamrock swallowed.
His fingers tightened around the bread.
Benn noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Benn Beckman had always been said to be frighteningly observant.
Shamrock hated that quality at that moment.
Benn’s eyes went from the bread to Shamrock’s torn clothes.
Then to the faded bruises on his wrists.
Then to the thinness of his face.
Something clicked behind Benn’s eyes.
“How long?”
Shamrock’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“How long have you been living like this?”
Shamrock’s face went pale.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Shamrock.”
Hearing his name spoken gently made something inside him crack.
He looked away.
Benn sighed softly.
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You’re holding half a loaf of bread like somebody just tried stealing your life savings.”
Shamrock flinched.
Benn immediately regretted the wording.
“That came out harsher than I meant.”
“Leave me alone.”
Shamrock pushed himself away from the wall.
His knees nearly buckled.
Benn caught his arm.
Shamrock ripped himself away.
“Don’t!”
Benn raised both hands.
“All right.”
Shamrock breathed hard.
His pride screamed at him.
Commander.
Celestial Dragon.
Figarland.
Those words used to mean something.
Now Benn Beckman was looking at him like a wounded animal.
Shamrock hated it.
Most of all, he hated that some small part of him wanted Benn to help.
Benn glanced toward the street.
“The Red Force is docked nearby.”
Shamrock froze.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
Benn watched him.
Shamrock shook his head.
“No.”
“Come back with me.”
“I said no.”
“Let me talk to Shanks.”
Shamrock laughed bitterly.
“My brother hates me.”
Benn didn’t deny it.
That hurt more than Shamrock expected.
“He has reasons to be angry,” Benn said.
“There.”
Shamrock gestured toward him.
“You admit it.”
“I also know Shanks.”
Shamrock looked away.
“He doesn’t want me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You haven’t spoken to him.”
“I don’t need to.”
Benn studied him for several seconds.
Then he looked at the bread again.
“Where are you sleeping?”
Shamrock said nothing.
“An inn?”
Silence.
“Somewhere outside town?”
Nothing.
Benn exhaled through his nose.
“The street.”
Shamrock’s eyes burned.
He hated him for figuring it out.
“Yes.”
Benn said nothing for a moment.
That was somehow worse.
Shamrock suddenly snapped.
“Go ahead.”
Benn frowned.
“What?”
“Laugh.”
“I’m not going to laugh.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
Shamrock gestured at himself.
“Look at me.”
Benn did.
Really looked.
And somehow there was no disgust in his face.
Only sadness.
Shamrock’s voice cracked.
“I commanded the Holy Knights.”
“I know.”
“I lived above the world.”
“I know.”
“People bowed when I entered a room.”
Benn remained silent.
Shamrock looked down at the bread.
“And now I fight strangers over food.”
His throat tightened.
He turned away quickly.
Benn’s voice softened.
“There’s nothing funny about being hungry.”
Shamrock squeezed his eyes shut.
“Please go.”
“No.”
Shamrock turned sharply.
“What?”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“You’re right.”
Benn stepped closer.
“So I’m asking.”
He extended his hand.
“Come with me.”
Shamrock stared at it.
Benn continued.
“Come to the Red Force. Let me talk to Shanks.”
“He’ll refuse.”
“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens.”
“He’ll humiliate me.”
“I won’t let him.”
Shamrock actually laughed.
“You’re going to stop your captain?”
“If he gets unreasonable? Absolutely.”
Despite himself, Shamrock almost smiled.
Almost.
Benn kept his hand extended.
“Let’s try first.”
Shamrock stared at that hand for what felt like an eternity.
Then, slowly, trembling slightly, he reached out.
His fingers closed around Benn’s.
Benn’s grip was warm.
Steady.
Strong without being controlling.
For the first time in a year, Shamrock allowed someone to lead him somewhere.
---
The laughter aboard the Red Force died almost instantly when Benn returned.
Shamrock noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Pirates who had been drinking and shouting only moments earlier fell silent.
Lucky Rou stopped eating.
Yasopp lowered his mug.
Hongo blinked twice.
Shamrock wanted to disappear.
Benn remained beside him.
Not touching.
But close.
Close enough that Shamrock knew he wasn’t alone.
Then a familiar voice called from the upper deck.
“Benn! Where’d you wander—”
Shanks stopped.
Shamrock looked up.
For the first time in years, the twins stared directly at one another.
They had the same red hair.
The same sharpness around their eyes.
But there the similarities ended.
Shanks wore an open shirt and sandals, his cloak hanging casually from his shoulders.
Freedom seemed built into the way he stood.
Shamrock looked like something freedom had beaten nearly to death.
Shanks’s expression went cold.
“What is he doing here?”
Shamrock flinched.
Benn glanced at him before looking toward Shanks.
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“Shanks.”
“I said no.”
Shamrock pulled his hand away from Benn.
“I told you.”
Benn turned.
“Don’t.”
Shamrock’s eyes filled with humiliation.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
He turned toward the gangplank.
Benn caught his shoulder gently.
“Stay.”
Shanks came down the stairs.
“I don’t want him on my ship.”
Benn’s expression hardened.
“And I don’t want to find your brother starving in an alley.”
Shanks stopped.
The crew went completely silent.
Shamrock closed his eyes.
He wished Benn hadn’t said it.
Shanks looked at him more carefully now.
At the clothes.
The bruises.
The loaf of bread still held against his chest.
Something flickered across Shanks’s face.
Shock.
Then anger.
Then something more complicated.
Shanks looked at Benn.
“Explain.”
“I heard a fight.”
Benn crossed his arms.
“Found three men trying to take his food.”
Shanks glanced at the bread.
Shamrock lowered it self-consciously.
Benn continued.
“He’s been sleeping on the street.”
Shamrock’s face turned red.
“Beckman.”
Benn ignored him.
“For how long, I don’t know.”
“A year,” Shamrock muttered.
Shanks stared at him.
“What?”
Shamrock swallowed.
“A year.”
The answer seemed to strike Shanks harder than a punch.
“You’ve been homeless for a year?”
Shamrock’s shame shifted into anger.
“What did you expect?”
“I expected—”
“What?”
Shamrock snapped.
“That I had hidden treasure somewhere? Loyal servants waiting to rescue me? Perhaps Father tucked away a fortune for his disappointing son?”
Shanks’s jaw tightened at the mention of Garling.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
Shamrock looked away.
“He disappeared months ago.”
“And left you?”
Shamrock gave him a bitter look.
“You sound surprised.”
That silenced Shanks.
Benn stepped between them before the conversation became worse.
“Here’s what I’m suggesting.”
Shanks rubbed his face.
“I already know what you’re suggesting.”
“Good. Saves time.”
“Benn.”
“He needs somewhere to stay.”
Shanks looked at Shamrock.
“He was commander of the Holy Knights.”
“Was.”
“He served the people we spent half our lives fighting.”
“True.”
“He would have arrested every person standing on this deck two years ago.”
Shamrock whispered, “Also true.”
Benn looked toward him.
Shamrock stared at the floorboards.
“I won’t pretend otherwise.”
His voice shook.
“I did things I’m not proud of.”
Shanks folded his arms.
“Not proud of now that you lost?”
Shamrock looked up sharply.
The accusation hurt because part of him had asked himself the same question.
“Maybe.”
Everyone seemed surprised by the answer.
Even Shanks.
Shamrock continued quietly.
“I don’t know what kind of man I would have become if the world had stayed the same.”
He swallowed.
“I was raised to believe cruelty was order. That obedience was virtue. That people beneath us existed to serve.”
His hand tightened around the loaf.
“I was wrong.”
Shanks stared at him.
Shamrock looked away.
“I learned that rather quickly when I became one of the people everyone considered beneath them.”
Benn stepped closer to Shanks.
“You believe people can change.”
“Don’t use my own philosophy against me.”
“I’m absolutely going to use your philosophy against you.”
Yasopp snorted.
Lucky Rou whispered, “He walked into that one.”
Shanks glared at them.
They immediately looked elsewhere.
Benn continued.
“I’m not saying hand him a weapon and make him an officer.”
“Good.”
“I’m saying give him a bunk and food.”
Shanks sighed.
“Benn…”
“He’ll work.”
Shamrock looked toward Benn.
Benn met his eyes.
“Right?”
Shamrock straightened.
“Yes.”
Shanks raised an eyebrow.
“You?”
Shamrock bristled.
“Yes, me.”
“Doing actual work?”
“I am capable of learning.”
“Are you?”
Shamrock’s eyes narrowed.
Benn sighed.
“Children.”
Both twins turned toward him.
“What?”
Benn rubbed his forehead.
“You even argue the same way.”
“I do not argue like him,” both brothers said simultaneously.
Silence.
Lucky Rou burst out laughing.
Soon half the crew joined him.
Shamrock stared at Shanks.
Shanks stared at Shamrock.
Then Shanks’s mouth twitched.
Shamrock tried desperately not to smile.
Benn noticed.
That was the first crack.
Small.
But enough.
Shanks sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
Shamrock blinked.
“Fine?”
“You can stay.”
The deck erupted in murmurs.
Shanks lifted one finger.
“Under conditions.”
Shamrock nodded quickly.
“You work.”
“Yes.”
“You eat what everyone else eats.”
“Yes.”
“No titles.”
Shamrock hesitated.
Then nodded.
“No servants.”
“I haven’t had one in a year.”
Shanks winced almost imperceptibly.
“And if you start acting like some Celestial Dragon prince—”
“You can throw me overboard.”
Shanks stared at him.
“I was going to say you scrub the deck.”
“Oh.”
Benn hid a smile.
Shanks pointed at Benn.
“You brought him here.”
“Yes.”
“You’re responsible for him.”
Benn shrugged.
“Fine.”
“And he needs a job.”
Benn looked toward Shamrock.
“You know mathematics?”
Shamrock almost looked offended.
“Of course.”
“Charts?”
“I have studied maps.”
“Stars?”
“Yes.”
“Weather patterns?”
“Some.”
Benn nodded.
“I’ll teach him navigation.”
Shanks stared at him.
“You’re adopting my brother.”
“I’m training your brother.”
“You say that now.”
Benn ignored him.
Shanks looked back at Shamrock.
“You understand this isn’t Mary Geoise?”
“Yes.”
“No one bows to you.”
“I know.”
“You’re not better than anyone here.”
Shamrock’s expression changed.
A year ago, that statement might have enraged him.
Now he looked exhausted.
“I know that too.”
Something in Shanks softened.
“Then welcome aboard.”
Shamrock looked down quickly.
His eyes were burning.
“Thank you.”
---
Benn gave Shamrock his cabin.
At least temporarily.
When Shamrock realized what he was doing, he immediately protested.
“No.”
Benn placed folded blankets on the bed.
“Yes.”
“This is your room.”
“It is.”
“So where are you sleeping?”
“Hammock.”
“No.”
Benn looked over his shoulder.
Shamrock stood in the doorway, freshly washed after Hongo had practically ordered him into the bath.
His hair was still damp.
Someone had found clean clothes for him.
They were simple.
A white shirt.
Dark trousers.
A spare pair of boots.
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing embroidered.
Shamrock had stared at them for several minutes when Benn gave them to him.
They were the finest things he had owned in months.
Benn raised an eyebrow.
“You planning to order me out of my own room?”
“No.”
“Then why are we arguing?”
“I can sleep in the hammock.”
“You need the bed.”
“So do you.”
“I haven’t spent the last year sleeping in alleys.”
Shamrock looked away.
Benn immediately regretted mentioning it.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”
Shamrock laughed humorlessly.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Benn sat on the edge of the bed.
“Probably.”
Shamrock remained near the door.
Quietly, he said, “I never imagined my life would become this.”
Benn studied him.
“What did you imagine?”
“That I would serve Imu until I died.”
The answer was so simple that Benn almost didn’t know what to say.
Shamrock looked around the cabin.
“I had no dreams.”
Benn frowned.
“None?”
“I had responsibilities.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I know that now.”
Benn leaned back.
“So make some.”
Shamrock looked confused.
“Some what?”
“Dreams.”
Shamrock actually stared.
“You say that as if one simply decides to have dreams.”
“Pretty much.”
“That sounds ridiculous.”
“You’re on a pirate ship.”
Benn smirked.
“Ridiculous is part of the job.”
A reluctant smile appeared.
Small.
Beautiful.
Benn found himself staring a second too long.
He looked away.
“Get some sleep.”
Shamrock sat carefully on the bed.
His fingers brushed the blanket.
Soft.
Clean.
Warm.
His throat tightened.
“Benn?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Benn paused at the doorway.
“For what?”
Shamrock looked down.
“For seeing me.”
Benn’s expression softened.
“I think most people would notice a six-foot-something redhead fighting three idiots over bread.”
Shamrock laughed.
An actual laugh.
Quiet and rusty from disuse.
Benn smiled.
“Goodnight, Shamrock.”
“Goodnight, Benn.”
---
The first week was a disaster.
Shamrock had never washed dishes.
He had never mopped a deck.
He had never repaired rope.
He had never cooked anything.
The first time Lucky Rou handed him an onion and asked him to chop it, Shamrock stared at it like it was an enemy commander.
“How?”
Rou blinked.
“How what?”
“How do I…?”
Shamrock gestured vaguely.
“Do whatever you expect me to do with this.”
“You’ve never cut an onion?”
“No.”
The galley went silent.
Shamrock’s face reddened.
Rou immediately recovered.
“All right.”
He moved beside him.
“Knife like this.”
Shamrock watched carefully.
Within minutes, he was slicing.
Too slowly.
And with terrifying concentration.
But he was learning.
The deck was worse.
Shanks found him one afternoon aggressively scrubbing the same spot.
“You trying to erase the wood?”
Shamrock glared up.
“It is dirty.”
“It stopped being dirty twenty minutes ago.”
“You told me to clean.”
“I didn’t tell you to sand through the deck.”
Shamrock threw the brush into the bucket.
Shanks laughed.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are visibly laughing.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Shamrock glared harder.
Shanks crouched.
“Move.”
“I can do it.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
“I’m showing you something.”
Shamrock reluctantly shifted aside.
Shanks demonstrated.
“Long strokes. You don’t have to murder the deck.”
Shamrock watched.
Then copied him.
Shanks nodded.
“Better.”
They worked beside one another quietly.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Shamrock asked, “Did Roger teach you this?”
Shanks stopped.
“Some of it.”
Shamrock kept scrubbing.
“What was he like?”
Shanks stared at his brother.
It was the first time Shamrock had ever asked.
“Loud.”
Shamrock smiled faintly.
“Everyone says that.”
“He was reckless.”
“That too.”
“Annoying.”
“You admired him.”
Shanks looked toward the sea.
“Yeah.”
Shamrock hesitated.
“I’m glad.”
Shanks looked at him.
Shamrock kept his eyes on the deck.
“I used to resent him.”
“Roger?”
“He got you.”
The brush slowed in Shamrock’s hand.
“And I got Father.”
Shanks said nothing.
Shamrock swallowed.
“I used to think you were the lucky one.”
Shanks gave a humorless laugh.
“I used to think the same about you.”
That made Shamrock stop.
They looked at one another.
Then, strangely, both laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was absurd.
Two brothers.
Each spending decades envying the other.
Neither understanding what the other had survived.
That afternoon marked the beginning of something neither brother knew how to name yet.
---
Benn taught Shamrock navigation every evening.
At first, Shamrock approached it like military training.
He sat perfectly straight.
Took obsessive notes.
Asked precise questions.
Corrected his handwriting if a letter looked imperfect.
Benn tolerated this for three days.
On the fourth, he pulled Shamrock’s notebook away.
Shamrock stared.
“I was using that.”
“I know.”
“Give it back.”
“No.”
“Benn.”
“You’re trying too hard.”
Shamrock looked offended.
“That makes no sense.”
“You’re terrified of making a mistake.”
“A navigator who makes mistakes kills people.”
“Sometimes.”
Shamrock stared.
Benn shrugged.
“Sometimes a navigator makes a mistake, realizes it, corrects course, and learns.”
“That seems irresponsible.”
“That seems human.”
Shamrock went quiet.
Benn pushed the notebook back.
“You don’t have to be perfect.”
Shamrock looked at the pages.
His voice was quieter when he answered.
“I used to.”
Benn’s expression softened.
“In Mary Geoise?”
Shamrock nodded.
“Mistakes embarrassed Father.”
Benn leaned against the table.
“And embarrassing Garling was dangerous?”
Shamrock didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Benn changed the subject.
“Come outside.”
“Why?”
“Stars.”
They climbed onto the deck.
Night had settled over the sea.
The sky was perfectly clear.
Benn pointed upward.
“Start there.”
Shamrock followed his hand.
Benn explained the constellations sailors used.
How to find direction without a compass.
How the stars shifted depending on season and latitude.
Shamrock listened.
Not because he feared punishment.
Not because he had orders.
Because he wanted to learn.
That realization struck him halfway through Benn’s explanation.
“I like this.”
Benn glanced at him.
“Navigation?”
Shamrock looked at the sky.
“Yes.”
Benn smiled.
“Good.”
Shamrock looked toward him.
Something warm settled in his chest.
He didn’t understand it yet.
Or perhaps he did and refused to acknowledge it.
---
Months passed.
Shamrock changed.
The transformation wasn’t dramatic.
It happened slowly.
He began waking before Benn instead of waiting to be told what to do.
He started helping Rou in the kitchen.
He learned to mend sails.
He stood watch.
He studied maps.
He became good at navigation.
Very good.
One morning, Benn walked into the chart room to find Shamrock studying a storm system.
“We should adjust course south.”
Benn looked at the map.
“Why?”
“Pressure is dropping.”
“So?”
“The wind changed during my watch.”
Benn raised an eyebrow.
Shamrock pointed.
“If we maintain this course, we’ll enter the storm by evening.”
Benn studied the chart.
Then the instruments.
Then Shamrock.
“You’re right.”
Shamrock blinked.
“I am?”
Benn laughed.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Shamrock tried not to smile.
Benn clapped his shoulder.
“Go tell Shanks.”
The smile disappeared.
“Why me?”
“You found it.”
“He’ll question me.”
“Then answer him.”
Shamrock sighed.
But he went.
An hour later the Red Force changed course.
That night a massive storm rolled across the horizon exactly where Shamrock predicted.
Shanks stood beside him at the railing.
“You saved us a miserable night.”
Shamrock shrugged awkwardly.
“I only noticed the signs.”
“That’s what navigators do.”
Shamrock looked at him.
Shanks smiled.
“You’re getting good.”
The praise hit Shamrock with unexpected force.
“Thank you.”
Shanks bumped his shoulder lightly.
“Don’t get emotional.”
“I am not emotional.”
“You look emotional.”
“I despise you.”
“There’s my brother.”
Shamrock laughed.
---
The crew eventually stopped treating him like Shanks’s dangerous former enemy.
He simply became Shamrock.
Rou discovered he liked sweet bread.
Yasopp discovered Shamrock was terrible at cards.
Hongo discovered Shamrock avoided medical examinations whenever possible.
Limejuice discovered Shamrock could drink far more than anyone expected.
And Shanks discovered his brother was unbearably competitive.
Their first arm-wrestling match nearly broke a table.
Their second actually did.
“You cheated,” Shamrock accused.
“I have one arm!”
“That means nothing!”
“It means everything!”
“You leaned your body weight into it!”
“That’s called technique!”
“That’s called cheating!”
Benn walked into the room.
Looked at the destroyed table.
Looked at the twins.
“No.”
Shanks pointed at Shamrock.
“He started it.”
Shamrock looked scandalized.
“I did not!”
Benn turned around and walked out.
“I’m not parenting two forty-year-old men.”
From the hallway, Lucky Rou shouted, “Too late!”
---
Shamrock’s feelings for Benn developed almost without permission.
Perhaps they had begun that first day.
With an outstretched hand in an alley.
Maybe it was the cabin.
The navigation lessons.
The quiet patience.
The way Benn never treated him like a prince.
Or a monster.
Or something fragile.
Benn simply treated him like Shamrock.
That was new.
And terrifying.
Shamrock noticed everything.
The way Benn rolled his sleeves while working.
The way his voice softened when someone was hurt.
The slight crease between his brows when studying charts.
The way he always seemed to know when Shamrock needed company and when he needed space.
It became unbearable.
Especially because Benn seemed completely unaware.
One evening they sat together at the bow.
Shamrock held a navigation journal across his knees.
Benn smoked beside him.
“You’re quiet.”
Shamrock looked at the sea.
“I am often quiet.”
“Not like this.”
Shamrock frowned.
“You are annoyingly perceptive.”
“I’ve been told.”
Silence.
Benn glanced at him.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“Shamrock.”
“No.”
“Shamrock.”
He sighed dramatically.
“I have developed a problem.”
Benn looked concerned.
“What kind?”
Shamrock stared straight ahead.
“A personal one.”
“That clears everything up.”
Shamrock glared at him.
Benn smiled.
“Sorry.”
Shamrock’s heart beat painfully hard.
He had commanded armies.
Faced pirates.
Stood before Imu.
And somehow this was more terrifying.
“I believe…”
He stopped.
Benn waited.
Shamrock tried again.
“I may have become attached to someone.”
Benn was quiet.
“Attached?”
“Romantically.”
Understanding slowly crossed Benn’s face.
“Oh.”
Shamrock immediately stood.
“This was stupid.”
Benn caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
Shamrock refused to look at him.
Benn released him immediately.
“Is it somebody on the crew?”
Shamrock gave him an incredulous look.
“Yes.”
Benn thought.
Shamrock watched him think.
Then realized with growing horror that Benn genuinely didn’t know.
“You cannot possibly be this dense.”
Benn blinked.
“What?”
Shamrock stared.
Then laughed.
He couldn’t help it.
Benn looked mildly offended.
“I’m glad my confusion is entertaining.”
Shamrock covered his face.
“Oh, this is humiliating.”
“Just tell me.”
“I am trying.”
Benn’s expression changed.
Very slowly.
His eyes widened just slightly.
“Me?”
Shamrock stopped breathing.
Benn stared at him.
Shamrock’s face turned crimson.
“That was not how I intended to tell you.”
A smile began forming on Benn’s face.
“Me.”
“Stop sounding surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“That isn’t helping.”
Benn stood.
Shamrock immediately looked away.
“If you don’t feel the same, please forget I said anything.”
Benn stepped closer.
“Shamrock.”
“I mean it.”
“Look at me.”
“I would rather jump overboard.”
Benn laughed softly.
Then his fingers gently touched Shamrock’s chin.
Shamrock froze.
Benn tilted his face upward.
“I feel the same.”
Shamrock stared.
“What?”
“I thought I was being obvious.”
“You were not.”
“I gave you my room.”
“You said I needed the bed.”
“I spent six months sleeping in a hammock.”
Shamrock blinked.
“Oh.”
Benn smiled.
“I spent every evening teaching you navigation.”
“That was my job.”
“I volunteered.”
“Oh.”
“I bring you coffee every morning.”
“You bring everyone coffee.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh.”
Benn’s smile widened.
Shamrock narrowed his eyes.
“Stop enjoying this.”
“I can’t.”
Shamrock tried to step away.
Benn gently took his hand.
The same way he had that first day.
“Can I kiss you?”
Shamrock’s breath caught.
“Yes.”
Benn leaned in.
The kiss was soft.
Brief.
Careful.
Shamrock’s hands trembled.
When Benn pulled away, Shamrock stared at him.
Then whispered, “Again.”
Benn laughed.
The second kiss lasted much longer.
---
Naturally, Shanks discovered them almost immediately.
“MY BROTHER?”
Benn closed his eyes.
Shamrock slowly pulled away from him.
Shanks stood across the deck pointing with his one arm.
“My first mate?”
Shamrock sighed.
“Lower your voice.”
“My brother and my first mate?”
“You have established our identities.”
Benn pinched the bridge of his nose.
Shanks looked personally betrayed.
“How long?”
“Approximately thirty seconds,” Shamrock said.
Shanks blinked.
“What?”
“We just kissed.”
“Oh.”
He lowered his voice slightly.
“Still.”
Benn crossed his arms.
“Problem?”
Shanks looked between them.
For once, Shamrock couldn’t read his expression.
Then Shanks sighed.
“No.”
Shamrock blinked.
“No?”
Shanks walked closer.
“I trust Benn.”
Benn’s expression softened.
Shanks looked at Shamrock.
“And…”
He hesitated.
“I want you to be happy.”
Shamrock stared at him.
Those six words nearly destroyed him.
His eyes immediately filled.
Shanks looked alarmed.
“Oh, don’t do that.”
Shamrock wiped his face angrily.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re crying.”
“I am aware.”
Shanks stepped closer.
Then awkwardly pulled Shamrock into a hug.
Shamrock froze.
They had not hugged since they were children.
Perhaps they had never truly hugged at all.
Slowly, Shamrock wrapped his arms around his brother.
Shanks squeezed him.
“You’re my brother.”
Shamrock buried his face against his shoulder.
“I know.”
“No.”
Shanks’s voice became quieter.
“I don’t think you did.”
Shamrock started crying harder.
Benn looked away to give them some dignity.
Shanks continued.
“I was angry.”
“I know.”
“I’m still angry about some things.”
“You should be.”
“But I don’t want you gone.”
Shamrock’s fingers tightened in Shanks’s cloak.
“You mean that?”
“Yeah.”
Shamrock laughed weakly through his tears.
“You are terrible at emotional conversations.”
“Runs in the family.”
Shamrock pulled back.
“You ruined it.”
“You were getting too sentimental.”
Shamrock punched his shoulder.
Shanks laughed.
Benn finally stepped closer.
Shanks pointed at him.
“And you.”
Benn raised an eyebrow.
“If you hurt him—”
“You’ll what?”
Shanks looked down at his missing arm.
Then back at Benn.
“I’ll figure something out.”
Shamrock laughed.
Benn wrapped an arm around his waist.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m your captain.”
“Unfortunately.”
---
One year after Benn found Shamrock in that alley, the Red Force returned to the same island.
Shamrock stood at the railing as they approached the harbor.
He wore clean clothes now.
A dark coat.
Strong boots.
An emerald necklace Benn had bought him several months earlier rested beneath his shirt.
His red hair moved freely in the wind.
Benn came to stand beside him.
“You all right?”
Shamrock nodded.
“I think so.”
They walked through town together later that afternoon.
Eventually, Shamrock stopped.
The alley was still there.
Of course it was.
To everyone else it was only an alley.
To Shamrock it was the place where one life ended.
And another began.
Benn stood beside him.
“You don’t have to go in.”
“I know.”
Shamrock entered anyway.
The wall was exactly where he remembered.
For a moment he could almost see himself.
Dirty.
Starving.
Terrified.
Clutching half a loaf of bread.
Ashamed to be alive.
Shamrock lowered his head.
Benn waited.
After a moment, Shamrock spoke.
“I thought my life was over.”
Benn said nothing.
“I thought losing Mary Geoise meant losing everything.”
He looked toward Benn.
“I didn’t understand that everything I had there was never really mine.”
Benn leaned against the wall.
Shamrock smiled faintly.
“I had rank.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Wealth.”
“Lots of it, apparently.”
“Servants.”
“Still think that one spoiled you.”
Shamrock rolled his eyes.
“Power.”
Benn’s expression softened.
“And now?”
Shamrock looked toward the street.
He could hear his crew outside.
Lucky Rou shouting about food.
Yasopp laughing.
Shanks arguing with someone.
His family.
His ridiculous, loud, impossible family.
Then Shamrock looked at Benn.
“Now I have things that are actually mine.”
“Like?”
“A job.”
Benn smiled.
“An excellent navigator.”
“My own clothes.”
“Very important.”
“Friends.”
“Definitely.”
“A brother.”
Benn nodded.
Shamrock stepped closer.
“And someone I love.”
Benn’s expression softened completely.
He reached for Shamrock’s hand.
Shamrock took it without hesitation.
A year ago, he had taken that hand because he had nowhere else to go.
Now he took it because he wanted to.
Benn kissed his forehead.
“Ready to head back?”
Shamrock nodded.
They stepped out of the alley together.
Shanks noticed them immediately.
“There you are!”
Shamrock groaned.
“What?”
“We’re leaving early.”
“Why?”
“Rou started a fight.”
“I DID NOT!” came a shout from across the street.
Shanks pointed.
“He started a fight.”
“Someone insulted my cooking!”
“That is not justification!”
“It absolutely is!”
Yasopp ran past them laughing.
“RUN!”
Several angry villagers appeared behind him.
Shamrock stared.
Benn sighed.
Shanks grinned.
“Time to go.”
Everyone began running toward the harbor.
Shamrock remained frozen for half a second.
Then Shanks grabbed one arm.
Benn grabbed the other.
“Move, brother!”
Shamrock stumbled forward.
“This is humiliating!”
Shanks laughed.
“You’re a pirate!”
“That does not require public disgrace!”
“It absolutely does!”
Benn laughed beside them.
Shamrock tried desperately to remain annoyed.
He failed.
By the time they reached the docks, he was laughing too.
They boarded the Red Force in chaos.
The sails were raised.
The ship pulled away from the island.
Shamrock climbed toward the helm.
Benn followed.
“Heading?”
Shanks shouted from below.
“Anywhere!”
Shamrock looked at Benn.
Benn shrugged.
“You’re the navigator.”
Shamrock turned toward the horizon.
A year ago, he had possessed nothing.
No home.
No purpose.
No future.
Now the deck beneath his boots felt more like home than Mary Geoise ever had.
His brother’s laughter carried on the wind.
His crew moved around him.
And Benn stood at his side.
Shamrock smiled.
“West.”
Benn looked toward the horizon.
“Why west?”
Shamrock took the wheel.
“Because I’ve never been there.”
Benn smiled.
“That’s as good a reason as any.”
Shamrock adjusted their course.
The Red Force turned toward the setting sun.
And for perhaps the first time in his entire life, Shamrock Figarland had no orders.
No master.
No predetermined path.
Only an open sea.
A family.
A man he loved.
And the freedom to decide where he wanted to go next.
Shamrock looked toward the horizon and smiled.
“West it is.”