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The calls comes as Shanks is sleeping off another dose of painkillers.
“Gold’s in trouble,” Rayleigh says before Shanks can greet him, and hell, that’s one way to wake Shanks up.
He’s upright in a moment, his mind sharp as ever. “What’s going on?”
Shanks hasn’t seen Rosi in years, not since their disastrous parting. They haven’t spoken either. The only updates Shanks gets are during his occasional calls to Rayleigh or Shakky. It’s enough to know Rosi’s alive, if nothing else.
“He’s planning to double-cross his brother and steal a Devil Fruit from underneath the Marines.”
“Why the hell would he do that?”
Rosi already has a Devil Fruit, and he’s never been particularly interested in the wealth he could get from selling one.
Rayleigh sighs. “There’s a kid,” and oh. Shanks glances at his missing left arm. He suspects he has some idea where this is going. “Gold picked him up from Doflamingo’s crew. He’s probably the only survivor of Flevance. Gold’s been trying to find a treatment for his Amber Lead but they’re out of time. The fruit is the only chance he has.”
Of course Rosi would steal a presumably highly sought-after Devil Fruit to save a kid. Shanks stole one for fun, so he really can’t judge—never mind that it was eaten by a seven-year-old. A seven-year-old Shanks also lost his arm for.
Hell, he and Rosi really are similar, aren’t they?
“I assume you want backup on hand?” Shanks asks.
“You’re the best chance we’ve got. Neither Gaban or I can cross the Calm Belt alone in time, and I don’t trust anybody else to get Gold and the kid out alive if things go badly,” Rayleigh says.
Shanks knows that he’s thinking: with Rosi’s luck, it will almost certainly go badly.
“How long do we have?”
“Three weeks,” Rayleigh says. “They’re supposed to meet on an island called Swallow.”
They almost don’t make it. Shanks knows it as soon as he sees the threads of light falling from the sky, encasing the island in the distance. It isn’t Swallow, but Shanks orders them to adjust their course. His instinct is proven right when he sees Doflamingo’s damn ship. It’s gaudy, and just like that pretentious fuck.
“Sail us around, I want to avoid a confrontation if we can,” Shanks calls, despite wishing otherwise. They can’t afford to waste time.
Sometimes, he really hates being right.
Hold on, Rosi, we’re almost there. Just hold on.
He doesn’t bring many of his crew onto the island. Shanks won’t risk it, not with Marines sniffing around. He sits in the row boat with only Beckman, Yassop, and Hongo, useless with one arm and a stump that aches from the cold too, straining his Observation to search the island for the familiar feeling of Rosinante. He doesn’t find it, but that isn’t a cause for panic just yet. Rosi’s Voice has always been quiet; if he’s using his Devil Fruit, Shanks won’t sense him until they’re closer. At least the damn strings are easy to take care of. It only takes one Conqueror’s-coated strike to cut through them, no matter how deadly they would be otherwise.
The snow crunches loudly beneath their feet. Their breaths freeze in the frigid air. The cold is oppressive, sinking through their clothes and into their bones, muffling the world around them. Shanks grits his teeth against the ache in his arm and lets his Haki roll over the hills and cliffs. There is a cluster of people on the other half of the island. Beyond that, the sea, and the Marine vessels closing in.
He strains it further, searching, until finally, there. A whisper Shanks would recognize anywhere. Rosinante. It’s weak, flickering, fading.
Shanks runs.
He finds blood splattered across the snow, red on white, spilling from the body of a man Shanks only half recognizes. Rosinante doesn’t look like himself, not with that makeup, those clothes. Rosi always preferred blending into the background.
Shanks wraps his own Will around Rosi’s guttering Voice as Hongo drops to Rosi’s side, forcing a struggling heart to continue beating, bleeding lungs to expand. It won’t hold forever, even Shanks’ Haki isn’t strong enough for that, but it’s a reinforcement of what is already there. Rosi is still fighting.
Even half dead, Rosi must sense Shanks’ presence, because his eyes flutter open. He’s smiling even as he bleeds out, and for one moment, Shanks is fifteen again, standing in Loguetown and watching the only father he’s ever known die. Then Shanks is back in this frozen wasteland, looking at a man whose body hasn’t realized it’s already dead.
When Rosinante speaks, his voice is so quiet that it’s barely a breath. Shanks hears it anyway.
“Shanks,” Rosi says.
Shanks kneels beside him, reaching for Rosinante’s limp hand. It’s ice cold, and Shanks wishes he had two to wrap around it. “I’m here.”
Hongo is pulling gauze from his medical bag while Yassop starts cutting away Rosinante’s shirt. Rosinante lets out a strangled sound when they start packing the wounds, his body arching, tense with pain.
“Rosi,” Shanks says, trying to ground him, to keep him here. He doesn’t have to see Hongo’s face to know it’s bad. He doesn’t even have to look at the bullet wounds spread across Rosi’s chest—seas, how many are there? Shanks can sense it in Rosi’s Voice, and he fights to hold onto his brother for just a little bit longer. He tells himself his eyes don’t burn.
There are a lot of things Shanks wishes he could say in what might well be Rosi’s last moments; I’m sorry, please hold on, I love you, but he chokes them back in favour of the only thing he knows Rosi cares about. “Rosi, the kid; where’s the kid?” he asks.
Rosinante grits his teeth and opens his eyes. His lips are bloody. They barely move when he speaks.
“Hid him… in a chest, to escape,” he whispers.
Which means Doflamingo must have taken it. It’s a good plan, especially since there’s no way Rosi could have known Shanks was close.
“I’ll find him,” Shanks promises.
Rosinante blinks several times. Hongo curses, and Shanks lets more Haki wrap around him.
“Law,” Rosinante says, before his eyes slip shut.
Shanks squeezes his brother’s hand one more time and then stands. He ignores the blood covering his clothes, firmly telling himself not now.
“Stay here, do what you can for him,” he orders his crew. “I’ll find the kid.”
“Chief-” Beck starts, because it’s always Beck when Shanks is about to do something stupid.
Shanks, down one arm and his clothes stained in Rosi’s blood, shoots Beckman a characteristic smile. Beckman scowls.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry so much! I’ll be right back,” he says.
“Don’t fight Doflamingo if you don’t have to,” Beckman warns, and damn, he really does know Shanks, doesn’t he?
Shanks tightens his grip on Gryphon.
“The kid, Shanks,” Beckman reminds him. He doesn’t have to say, Rosi will never forgive you if you lose him; Shanks already knows.
Shanks closes his eyes and breathes. The air is so sharp it hurts his lungs.
“The kid,” he agrees.
He leaves before he has to watch Rosi die, his feet crunching in the snow. The boots feel uncomfortable, but Beckman insisted, as if Shanks’ Haki couldn’t ward off frostbite better than leather and wool.
He wants to fight Doflamingo. He cut through whatever the hell that devil fruit ability was, after all, but it seems that Doflamingo doesn’t want to figure out who did it, the coward. Shanks tops a ridge and sees them piling onto their ship, already firing on the Marine warships in the distance.
The kid is easy to find, even with his Voice suppressed by Rosi’s Devil Fruit. He’s a bruise on the white snow, wrapped in a blanket as he trudges across the landscape, his sobs impossibly silent.
He’s too hysterical to notice Shanks approaching, which isn’t a good sign. Shanks scoops him up with one arm and can feel the fever radiating off his skin. Fuck, really not a good sign. Rayleigh wasn’t wrong about how progress the Amber Lead is.
He struggles, as Shanks expects. He debates on using his Haki to knock the kid out, a rest Law could almost certainly use, but he knows Rosi, and he has faith in Rosi’s skills. He’s almost certain that Law has the Ope Ope Fruit.
Shanks doesn’t pause until they’re out of sight of the beach. He can hear the cannon fire exchanged by Doflamingo and the Marines. They don’t have long until the island is flooded by uniforms. He puts the boy down, his hand staying clamped over the boy’s shoulder. “Kid, listen to me,” he says, to little effect. Law keeps trying to pull away from him, still sobbing big, ugly tears that can’t be good for his fever. It makes Shanks’ chest twist. He tightens his grip. “Kid. Law. For fucks sake, be still.” He infuses the words with just enough Haki to make the boy freeze, and Shanks takes a deep breath.
“My name is Shanks,” he says. “I’m a friend of Rosi’s—Rosinante’s. We grew up together. I’m here to help.”
Law freezes for real this time, watching Shanks with wide eyes, some mix of hopeful and terrified. It’s so hard not to see Luffy in them, and it makes Shanks want to burn the world.
“Some of our friends are with him now, trying their best to save him, but-” he makes himself breathe, forcing his voice not to shake. “-he’s not doing well. He fed you the Ope Ope Fruit, didn’t he?”
Law flinches and looks down, biting his lip. He’s afraid to answer, that much is clear, but there’s nothing Shanks can do to convince him of safety. If Law decides Shanks is lying, that’s it.
A long moment passes. Shanks still feels Rosi on the edge of his awareness. Then Law nods, looking up at Shanks with a determined expression.
It’s good enough for Shanks. He picks up Law again, mutters a quiet hold on, and sprints.
Things aren’t looking good when they arrive. Rosi is still alive, but he won’t be for long, even with Hongo’s skills and Shanks’ Haki. He’s just lost too much blood.
“Kid has the fruit,” Shanks says, dropping Law beside Hongo. To Law, he says, “Do you know how to use it?”
Law hesitates and then shakes his head.
He remembers what Ray told him. “It can create a room where you have control over everything. You need to know what you’re doing, but you can do amazing things with it.” He squeezes the boy’s shoulder again. “Hongo is a doctor. He’ll help you. We’ll save Rosi and then get that Amber Lead out of you. Sounds good?”
Law nods. He’s still crying, but his face is set in an expression of determination. It’ll do.
“Okay, focus on building a room,” Shanks says with more confidence than he feels. Half of what a person can accomplish in life is Will. He hopes this lands within that half.
A bubble of blue light appears over Law’s hand. Law stares at it, disbelieving.
“Good. Hongo?” Shanks says.
He watches them work and tries not to feel sick. Beckman lingers at his side, and it once again feels like being fifteen, watching Rosi bleed out from a bullet he took for Shanks. Seas, there’s so much blood.
The bullets land on the snow beside them as if dropped there by some unseen force. Hongo’s voice is low, guiding Law through the motions and pressing down on the wounds. They’re only trying to stabilize Rosi enough to move him. Once they reach the ship, Hongo can do more.
The bleeding has only just stopped when Law wavers. Shanks catches him before he lands in the snow. His fever is even higher now, his breathing crackling and unsteady.
“Let’s move,” Hongo says.
Hongo carries the kid. Yassop and Beckman carry Rosi. Shanks follows and ignores the blood freezing on his skin.