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cheswirls · 5 years ago

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tether notes 2/3

pt. 3

i mentioned this in the last part, but i used muroran as basis for veilstone, not abashiri. actually, if you want my opinion, i think shari, hokkaido, is a better depiction of veilstone than abashiri. mostly, i used muroran bc i could find pictures there that were more than just boat-icebreaker-drift ice-boat. abashiri is cold. and full of drift ice. if you need context, it’s level with toronto, canada. a pretty cold place to live. muroran is further south, and it’s also a port city, so i jus used that.

shari looks nicer, but it’s more into the hook of hokkaido (that piece on sinnoh map that jutts out right below battle zone) and not nestled into the mountains, so. mostly it was out.

makino’s cafe/bar is based on the diner in veilstone. so, walk in, counter bar to your left, tables to your right, possibly a happiny underfoot carrying trays of food.

but, compared to the more rustic and colored veilstone, i wanted to depict more of hokkaido city here. so, more rundown, rusted due to sea breeze, older things without much repair. passable, sure, for daily life. but new and extravagant? no. far from.

if makino is so close with luffy, how come she doesn’t know sabo?

simple. she’s not close with luffy. makino has a fulltime job running a diner in veilstone, sinnoh. luffy grew up on the sevii islands, kanto. when he was in sinnoh, he was training with shanks. yeah, sure, they would come by for food, and makino is good friends with shanks, so of course she and luffy have a relationship. but, also at this point where shanks began to bring luffy around, instead of teaching him out in nowhere, sevii islands, they began to keep things secret. luffy was here “just visiting” to anyone who asks, but they wouldn’t seen him much around, not in the isolation shanks trained him in. also also at this point, because i derailed that sentence completely, ace and sabo were already out traveling. it just never came up. makino is friendly with luffy, she knows luffy, but she doesn’t know him, not really.

pokemon hunters is another anime concept i wanted to use, again to make the story more gritty. no evil teams here with world-domination plots, just poachers. pretty standard. still awful, especially if they’re poaching people, now, but nothing as wide-scale as team galactic.

i had so much fun writing ship captain jinbe. i wished i got more of a chance to write his crew, too. at this point i think i had just caught up reading blackbird by milo, and i was hooked on the idea of biker fishman gang and leader jinbe, so i adapted it into ship crew here. praline is there, yes. she’s badass. i said so, you heard it here.

i talked a lot with my big bang partner, and we eventually decided jinbe’s a mix of hoenn and sinnoh descent. so, darker skin, almost polynesian, from hoenn’s more pacific island vibe. dark, curly hair. i drew a picture once? oh, here it is. jus a little sketch. he probably actually comes from hoenn, but he does cargo runs throughout sinnoh now. [i should probably say around, since there arent rly canals thru sinnoh?]

regarding law’s map error, i really jus wanted to reference flower paradise. of course the map he got was a tourist version, so of course it’s gonna include the magical pathway connecting the sinnoh league to an island of flowers. but it doesn’t actually exist, or if it does, it’s not always there, since they sail through the space with ease. just another fun easter egg.

the marsh scene was another i’ve known i wanted since the beginning. i had so much fun drawing the map for it. i actually based the scenes entirely off the map, so while i knew the general direction i wanted it to go in, and that they would run into sabo, the part about wandering into the rain and encountering volcarona spawned while marking the map. crazy how things work, huh?

i think i made the chase move a little too fast, so most of the time out of their 12 hr limit is spent after departing from the marsh, wandering thru route 212. don get me wrong, the marsh scene spans over the course of hours, but its still less time from leaving the ship to leaving sabo than it is to get back to the ship.

the aegislash scene is the first one i conceptualized, of the marsh scene series. introducing law’s team was strategic, especially once i revealed luffy only had four pokemon. it was always meant to be a readers gamble how many law had. at the end of part 3, it’s pretty easy to gauge how many, but still, the surprise of the sixth pokemon in pt 4 is something im still proud of c:

anyway, yes, the first sense of real danger. poachers have no qualms in using their pokemon to harm other people. they’re there for the money, which they get from capturing and caging rare pokemon. who cares if they hurt a few people along the way? who cares if they brutalize them to take a particular pokemon, a-la mr. cleffa sir? law reacts to this very quickly, in part because he’s used to it, as explained in tragic backstory number 2, right behind one-brother-dies-and-the-other-runs-away from protag #2.

actually, i guess the first danger was the wild kadabra, but this is the one in which someone gets hurt! . . . or, worse-hurt, because law’s scratch doesn’t count. luffy’s gash in his shoulder? that’s a big injury. especially when they can’t just stop to treat it, especially when law still has blood on his face from it, especially when they have to go right back to running around the marsh.

and then sabo appears!! i lied, this was the first marsh scene. i drabble-wrote it in my series-of-drabbles-to-add-to-the-outline before i made pt 3′s outline, and then wrote it for real. the aegislash-being-badass-therefore-law-also-by-proxy was the second. one of the first sentences i ever wrote for tether was law realizing the face from luffy’s picture was right before his eyes.

so why do the hunters ignore luffy calling for sabo while running away?

yes, why the no consequences? i realized at this point they were too far away to hear and law too out of it (its law’s pov, still) to figure what they were saying, to i had to play it off. it’s another scene where i almost wrote a few paragraphs from a different perspective [the other two were the tsuru-caesar confrontation and the mr. cleffa dude ft. sabo scene, both of which i had to expand upon by talking, instead of a flashback to show it. i rly went full soul-eater approach here, huh? explaining everything through present means. well. save for law’s backstory, but that’s about the only thing.] but decided not to in the end.

here’s how the scene plays out, full disclosure. law and luffy spot the two hunters. a third person, sabo comes into view. the hunters tell sabo the situation, that they were being chased. law recognizes sabo, luffy does too, and calls out to him, loudly. this causes the hunters to panic, and they tell sabo, there, there’s the people chasing after us. law figures sabo has some secret reason for posing as a hunter and pulls luffy again out of view, not wanting to give him away. all three hunters take off running in the opposite direction. luffy calls out for sabo again, and sabo turns to question the other two, asking which pokemon they stole that was named ‘sabo’. he has a fake name, obviously. they don’t know he’s sabo. before they can figure it out, he derails the topic. but then he slips crossed fingers behind his back at the same time, signaling silently to luffy, who stops calling out.

so, tldr, sabo’s not using his real name while with the hunters and is smart enough to cover his ass from luffy’s mistake.

i wanted law carrying luffy, on their way down the route, to the stormclouds, and i’m pretty sure the one reason i didnt go thru with it is because law’s backpack. and, y’know, luffy being caked in mud.

okay, do. panic attack time. ptsd time. a mix of both, ig. whatever you wanna call it. originally, this scene was going to be a bit different, and happen way earlier in the story. it didnt bc of sinnoh’s lack of fire types [there are only 2 i think, 2 lines i mean, so like 5] and the fact that ace’s team featured none of them. and then i thought, oh, i’ll jus make the same thing happen w sabo, except none of sabo’s team were one of them as well.

originally, it was going to be that law/lu encounter a clan of a specific type of wild fire pokemon. i think for the longest time it was talonflame, not sure anymore. anyway, so it was gonna go that luffy recognizes ace’s former pokemon outta the bunch, and they recognize lu as well, and the two reunite and all that jazz, and meanwhile law has his attack bc the group they encounter are one of the pokemon that tormented him in alola.

and, nope, now i remember why it didnt happen. as much as i hate dof, i had to craft a team for him for plot purposes, and that ended up being a bug team to go w the whole string motif. the problem was i had this scene planned for a looooong time, and it needed to be w a fire type, one of ace’s pokemon. except there are like no fire/bug pokemon, except for volcarona, who wasn’t on ace’s already-planned team at this point. i debated for foreeeeever and finally decided to screw it, and i made it sabo’s unova pokemon. so, instead of getting a unova dragon, in the land of dragons unova, sabo gets a volcarona and ace a darmanitan. all for plot purposes. no sense here. none at all.

[not that it matters, since sabo morphs into a fire trainer anyway after ace dies]

so, after i decided it would be sabos pokemon, the point came back to how they would encounter it. no hordes of wild volcarona in sinnoh. i sadly had to scrap the idea. this is what i came up with instead: volcarona coming to luffy to deliver a letter, and scarring law in the process.

Law has a chocolate bar, because he’s ten and anxious and chocolate seemed good at the time.

-aka my favorite line of the whole entire story!!!

and then law’s backstory time. so!!! for the longest time i was torn between setting the story in sinnoh or alola. this was my big compromise. i wrote a draft-outline for law’s alola backstory before i wrote a real outline for tether as a whole. this was the first part of the story i really wrote. i was done with it before i started pt 1, because i wanted to outline before i started writing.

the thing abt law is that his life is so much of a tragedy. oda writes it so well, to the point where you’re thinking this can’t get any worse and then it gets worse, every time. i wanted to mimic that here. i didn’t do it justice, but i at least tried.

law’s life is filled with mistrust. his whole village dies, he nearly does as well, and so he packs up and runs away, and hides his one pokemon abra because he’s not a registered trainer and he refuses to abandon abra so theres mistrust towards everyone who can turn him in, and everyone who didnt care enough to help with the water crisis. he’s done with sinnoh. so he spends a bit holed up in a library, and once he reads about alola, he’s sold. he’s so mistrustful it’s not a matter of ‘anywhere is better than sinnoh’, its a matter of ‘i can’t end up in another place just like this’. alola is the solution.

except, he’s still mistrustful. so he hides abra, and he hides his money, and he doesn’t speak with anyone, and he leaves the city as soon as he can. he doesn’t know the rules of this place, but abra is all he has. he can’t lose abra. and then things go wrong.

because he’s out of sinnoh, but alola is different. he’s ten, and he’s never had a real pokemon battle, and all the wild pokemon of alola are too eager. he’s ten, and a pangoro attacks and he loses all his supplies on his very first day, because abra’s too exhausted to teleport them away this time. [in hindsight, i did a really bad continuity error here, throughout the entire flashback. it’s thru law’s eyes, so i describe the pokemon he doesn’t know about, and yet sometimes i name the pokemon he really shouldn’t know about. my bad.]

he’s ten, and the only food he finds is being guarded by a giant sumo crab, so he crawls to the other side of the beach and falls asleep on the sand, hungry. he’s ten, and he’s living off berries because money is only so good when you can exchange it, and he’s far away from civilization. he’s ten, and he spends the very last of his money on money for abra, for his only pokemon and his only ally, because going to a pokemon center would mean being seen and asking for a license to verify and its too risky, he can’t risk it.

he’s ten, and he’s hungry, and he has nothing but the abra clutched in his arms and his ripped clothes clinging to his body, and he witnesses a murder. and they catch him in the act, and then he’s stuck, because he shouldn’t have a pokemon so young, and he’s a witness to a crime, and too quickly he’s in a very bad position.

he’s ten, and to keep abra alive, he joins a gang in alola.

he’s ten, and he’s blackmailed into working or risking abra being taken away. he’s ten, and he has morals, and there’s some tasks he won’t do, but the family boss punishes him for it, harshly. he stops having morals. it wouldn’t do him good here.

law turns eleven, and suddenly gang tasks involve pokemon battles. law’s eleven, and doflamingo trains law himself, beating the weakness out of him, burning him, scarring him, terrorizing him because he can, and because law can’t refuse.

law’s eleven when he realizes his picture-perfect alola was nothing but an illusion, because the lack of monopolies and corporations and factories actually had nothing to do with how much the natives cared about their own, or cared at all, about anything. just because alola didn’t have a pokemon league didn’t mean it wasn’t a bad place to be.

he’s eleven when he meets corazon, and finally, finally, gets a breath of fresh air, gets a taste of a person who isn’t there to ridicule him or abuse him. he’s eleven when he meets his first real friend since his sister died, meets someone that finally treats him like a human being. and it doesnt matter that he’s doflamingo’s brother, because he’s kind to law.

law’s eleven and corazon works to repair the damage done by the gang, little by little. he gets law out on an island challenge, and he wanders through melemele and akala and meets kind people and has fun and experiences the real alola. and he realizes, somewhere along the way, that he never wants to go back to the family ever again.

law’s eleven when he realizes he has no choice. because he belongs to doflamingo, because he has to skip out on ula’ula to accomplish a task for the family, because corazon sits there and lets it happen.

law’s eleven when he’s given a pokemon egg, and when he’s given hope.

corazon was going to take care of everything. he was going to get them out, safely. they were going to rescue a captive pokemon. law was going to be free. law was never going to be hurt by the family again.

except, that’s not how it goes. corazon dies. corazon’s pokemon are tortured in order to lure law out. corazon’s pokemon all die for him and law has no option left but to run with all his might, all the way from one tip of ula’ula to the other. and then, because he can’t trust anyone, anyone, law runs away into a desert with no supplies to speak of.

law’s eleven when he comes face to face with the most temperamental tapu in the alola region, and even with all he’s been through, it’s the most scared he’s even been in his entire life. and then, when he comes to, he finds himself stranded in the kalos region. he’s eleven. he goes through all of this and he’s not even a teenager yet.

so, backing up just a bit, you can see how seeing a volcarona is going to invoke some rather strong emotions in law. he panics. he passes out. luffy puts volcarona away, because me might be oblivious on a lot of things, but he can understand the pure terror in law’s eyes.

alright, what else. the letter. of course luffy disavows the letter, he’s luffy, he can’t follow a plan to save his life.

#tether #pt 4 notes whenever i get around to formatting pt 4 #ill link the maps there too #and ill probably throw together a quick timeline too ive been thinkin abt it

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missmungoe · 3 years ago

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Can we get more pirate Makino

Of course! I’m actually writing a thing about exactly that, so here’s a glimpse from the first chapter of a three-part fic I’ve been working on, titled On the Water (alternatively: How to Become a Pirate in Your Thirties).

Follows Long Live, rated M for, well, Shanks. The full story will be up on AO3 when it’s finished, but I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!

For her birthday he gave her the horizon, but adapting to life at sea was a work in progress.

The ropes scuffed her palms, gentle hands that had always known hard work, just not this particular kind. She’d have blisters tomorrow, Makino suspected, although hoped that was all she’d have, and not a broken back and fractured skull to boot.

“Need a hand?”

His voice reached down towards her, as a big hand was offered, the broad palm roughened with harder calluses than hers. The metal of his wedding ring caught the sunlight; unlike his fingers, it didn’t bear the evidence of his way of life, but then he hadn’t been wearing it on his hand for very long.

Her own ring was dulled and scratched from wear; the curious symmetry of their lives, at least before her recent about-face in terms of careers, her apron and serving tray exchanged with canvas, rope, and questionable safety measures.

She looked at the hand held out to her, following the sinewy forearm to Shanks, perched on the ratlines above her with an effortlessness she couldn’t decide if made her want to gawk or shriek in frustration. The fact that he could even offer his hand was hard to believe, given that he only had one, but he looked utterly unhindered by the fact, his bare feet steady where he balanced on the ropes, in a way that made it seem like having two hands would have just been overkill.

For her own part, Makino was trying her best not to cling with every appendage she had.

“Are you being cheeky?” she called up, just a little shrilly, gripping the ropes when an impish gust of wind sent the ratlines swaying.

“You tell me,�� came the quick reply, her disbelief parried with the flash of a roguish grin. “You’re the one with the view.”

Poised on the ropes directly beneath him, Makino demurely refused to acknowledge the cheeks in question, hugged rather snugly by the fabric of his pants where he leaned his weight against the ropes. Today’s pattern was cheerful palm tree leaves against a bright red backdrop. The fact that it might be the last thing she saw before falling to her death was a sobering thought.

“Eyes aloft, sailor,” Shanks said, a note of command that sent a shiver jumping up her spine, and that had her gaze darting from his rear to his face, and the delighted grin stretched across it. “I know I’m distracting, but try to be professional?”

Had she been a better liar, she might have attempted a glib retort. As it was, the sight of him on the ropes was distracting, a captain in his natural element, his feet bare and his signature cloak discarded; the ruggedness of a man who’d spent his life at sea, all rough stubble and sun-darkened skin swept with dark hair, his half-buttoned shirt straining over his wide shoulders in a way that really ought to be against the law, or at the very least prohibited during certain circumstances, like, say, when she was trying to keep her concentration so she didn’t fall and break every bone in her body.

The toned arm extended towards her, the right sleeve cinched around his bicep, flexing when he caught her eyes darting to it.

Her attempt at an unfazed expression faltered, and his chuckle chased her gaze when she averted it, although her blush was arguably more incriminating, but then it was hard not to be impressed, and she still wasn’t used to seeing him like this.

Curling her toes, she tested her balance. She’d rolled her breeches up past her knees, and her bare feet helped with her grip on the lines. The only thing she’d kept of the clothes she’d brought aboard with her was her loose-sleeved blouse, and even her kerchief had been exchanged for a longer scarf to better hold back her hair; red with white embroideries, he’d gifted it to her shortly after they’d set out from Fuschia, weaved into her long braid now, brushing her spine where it hung between her shoulder blades. She wore no further embellishments, although had wondered how she might look, with gold in her ears and on her fingers, or pearls from the bottom of the sea. Trappings for a different pirate, or at least a bolder one.

She missed her skirts, her silk bodices and embroidered aprons, but this was more practical, and better suited her new chores. Maybe one day she’d be a barmaid again, but for now she was a pirate, and if an enemy showed up, they wouldn’t be asking for a drink.

Shanks offered his hand again, and this time Makino took it, sea-roughened fingers wrapping around her smaller ones tightly, and her breath seized when he lifted her up, and so fast she had to stifle the startled yelp that escaped her, and heard his laughter, a softer thing now as she scrambled to hold on to her new perch on the ratlines beside him.

Her feet curled around the ropes as she tried to reclaim her balance, her breath hitching when the rigging swayed.

She watched as Shanks moved, his leg sliding behind hers as he put himself behind her. A big hand settled over one of hers, gripping it reassuringly.

“Breathe,” came the gentle order, as her back met the sturdy width of his chest, the support allowing her to relax enough to slacken her death grip on the lines, the breath she’d been holding easing out as she did. His feet caged hers, tiny in comparison, his body keeping her secure on the lines. The top of her head was barely level with his sternum; she could feel the warmth of his skin bared by his shirt where it pressed against her back. “Attagirl.”

Shifting his weight, his hips brushed against her backside, and her breath shivered with her laugh, feeling him.

“This is hardly what I’d call professional,” Makino said, even as she yielded some of her weight to him, glad of the support offered by his bigger frame.

“What are you talking about? I’m the essence of professionalism. I just have a very hands-on approach to teaching.” His grin brushed the tender spot on her neck beneath her ear as he rumbled, “This is the first time I hear you complaining about that.”

“I’m not complaining,” Makino said, the shiver in her voice betraying her reaction, but sensing an opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine, added demurely, “I like having you behind me.”

She felt his surprise in the startled grip of his fingers, and could picture his grin from the winded laugh that reached through her back.

“Say things like that and you’ll make me lose my grip.” The way he pressed against her felt retaliatory, her breath hitching at the grind of his hips, and the hardness beneath her rear. “I’m trying to show you the ropes here.” His lips skimmed the back of her neck, the fleeting kiss followed by a rumble, “Although if we move this to our cabin I can show you some different ones.”

Her heart skipped, although not so much for the suggestion as for the casual use of our that had found its way into his vocabulary lately.

Her laugh was soft, and she felt him squeeze her hand. “Such a thorough education you’re giving me.”

“Well, I want you to be prepared,” Shanks said, as a grinning kiss marked the spot above her pulse. “There are some real scoundrels on this sea.”

“Oh, I know.” Her eyes flicked up to catch his, tempered steel in the sunlight. “If I’m not careful, one might steal me away on his ship.”

His look softened, a gentler kind of heat, before he bent to kiss the crown of her head.

But even teasingly said, it touched upon something she hadn’t broached with him yet; an underlying fear that had followed her from East Blue like a shadow in the water, and that was a large part of why she wanted to learn how to sail.

She didn’t want him to regret taking her with him―that there should come a day when her inexperience would cease being endearing, if she became a burden he couldn’t afford to have on his ship.

“Hey,” Shanks said then; the shift in his tone made her blink, before she realised that her thoughts had wandered. “Everything okay?”

Makino nodded, and hoped the slight quaver in her voice helped make her lie convincing. “Just made the mistake of looking down.”

There was a beat where she wondered if he’d seen through her deceit, but then, “As much as I’m enjoying teaching you,” Shanks said, and she was surprised there was no teasing in his voice now, “you know you don’t have to learn this, right? I captain a pretty big crew. We’ve got plenty of hands on deck, and that’s not an amputee quip.”

Murmurs of agreement backed him, from the crew gathered below, all of them having come out on deck to observe. She’d ask them to mind their own business if she’d thought it would work, but recognised a lost battle. They hadn’t minded their own business since the day they’d met.

Although catching the wary looks on their faces, she wondered if the real reason they’d gathered to watch was so they could catch her if she slipped.

Ben was holding the baby, wide-eyed and sucking on his fingers where he watched them both aloft, and she had the sudden thought that he probably wouldn’t forget it if she fell to her death.

It almost made her hesitate, wondering if she really was pushing it, and that her focus was better spent on something a little less hazardous, like charting stars or assisting Marsh in the galley, and not on building a career as a sailor when she was long past the age most swabbies got their first posting. She wasn’t even a proper swabbie, but couldn’t exactly claim a higher rank when she had no skills or credentials to back it up.

But there was a part of her that wouldn’t back down, even against her own misgivings. She couldn’t choose this life, his life, and keep living the way she had. This sea wouldn’t allow it, and she’d be naive if she believed otherwise.

It was never going to be easy, and she was painfully aware that she’d chosen the worst possible time to abandon her law-abiding job to become a pirate. Granted, most fledgling pirates didn’t achieve overnight fame and a back-bending kiss on the cover of the WENP. If she’d hoped for a subtle change of careers, that ship had thoroughly sailed.

But whatever kind of pirate she turned out to be, she didn’t want to be useless. At the very least, she wanted to know her way around his ship.

“It’s not like I’m going to put you on watch duty,” Shanks said, when a lull had passed where she hadn’t spoken. “That’s why we have Fen, although between you and me, if Whiskey could sound the alarm, he’d be out of a job.”

“No offence, Boss, but that cat was shat out of satan’s arsehole,” spoke the freckled young man seated on the yard above them, with the ease of someone who spent a lot of time aloft, and who didn’t have thirty-two years of deeply burrowed roots holding him back. “But yeah, you’re probably right.”

“If our ship’s cat can do it, then I should be able to,” Makino retorted pertly, although didn’t say that she’d rather not spend a whole night in the crow’s nest by herself. Not that Shanks would ask her, and if he did, he’d have something rather different in mind than keeping watch, but even that would be moot if she couldn’t get up there by herself.

If they hadn’t had an audience, she might have told him. Instead what she said was, “I can’t be a pirate without any sailing skills, Shanks.”

“Hey, there are plenty of pirates who have no sailing skills,” Shanks countered. “Don’t underestimate how much you can get away with by riding someone’s coattails. It’s done wonders for Buggy’s career.”

“At this rate, he’ll be an Emperor soon,” Fen said.

“Who will?” Yasopp asked, appearing on the yard beside Fen, causing Makino to start, and she was glad to have Shanks behind her, as she didn’t lose her grip. She hadn’t even seen him climb up, but, “Hey, Ma-chan,” he chirped, swinging his legs over the yard as he took a seat. “How’s it hanging?”

“Oh, just swimmingly,” Makino sighed, and tried not to squirm, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on her. Unlike Shanks, she’d never loved the spotlight, particularly when doing something she wasn’t good at, and it was a little intimidating to have a whole crew of experienced pirates observing her stumbling attempts into learning their craft.

For all its delight, Yasopp’s grin was understanding, and her gratitude was silent when that sharp-eyed gaze left her to look at Fen, his arms crossed over his chest in a casual repose as he repeated his earlier question, “So who’ll be an Emperor soon?”

“Buggy,” Fen said.

Yasopp snorted, but after a beat, conceded, “You know, I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s got a way of falling upwards.” Then with a grin, “Roster’s getting pretty packed now, though, with Luffy and this one,” he said, nodding to Makino. “You’ll have to watch out for challengers now that you’ve announced yourself, Ma-chan. It’s eat or be eaten on this sea.”

“Don’t,” Makino said primly, before Shanks could open his mouth, and she couldn’t see his grin but she could imagine it well enough. Then to Yasopp, “And please don’t include me in this power-grabbing contest.”

“I hate to break it to you, my heart, but it’s a little late for that,” Shanks said.

“You did give an interview,” Yasopp pointed out.

“The photograph was also hard to misinterpret,” Fen agreed.

“I don’t mind what they call me,” Makino said, and already knew what it was, the endearment that had been given to her by the man she’d married long before she’d asked him to take her with him, but Empress was symbolic, not declarative, and the title itself wasn’t the issue. “It’s about what they expect. I’m not going to challenge anyone, I just want to be a normal pirate. No politics, just plain and simple swashbuckling. Whatever happened to parrots and peg legs?”

“Do you want a parrot?” Shanks asked.

“What I want is for my merits to speak for themselves,” she said, gently firm as she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Small and unimportant as they might be.”

His look held a thought he didn’t share, but before he could say anything, “So I’m not riding your coattails,” she told him, and was quick to add, “And don’t,”―he pinched his lips shut, although the boyish grin stayed―“make that into something lewd. It’s too easy, even for you.”

“She’s got a point, Cap,” Yasopp said. Fen made a noise of agreement.

“I feel like you’re all underestimating my creativity, but whatever,” Shanks said. “Also, ‘even for you’, wife? The level of disrespect. You’re on my ship now, and last I checked, I was still the captain.”

Doubtful murmurs from the deck below, which he answered by sticking his tongue out.

Her smile was sweetly mutinous. “Let me rephrase, then: I’m not riding your coattails, Captain.”

She knew from his grin that she was going to be paying for that later, but, “Have I told you that I find your premature midlife crisis adorable?” Shanks said instead. “Most people just change their hair. Or buy a really big boat.”

“Or marry a younger woman,” Ben supplied from around his toothpick. The baby on his arm was falling asleep, his head tucked under his chin.

Shanks turned his head to call down, “Et tu, you ass?”

Laughing agreement from the rest of their crew set off a debate of who’d had the biggest midlife crisis to date―a tie between Yasopp’s dreads and their captain’s choice of wife, who demurely elected to have no opinion on the matter―and Makino felt the momentary reprieve of their attentions, Shanks’ in particular, who for all his easygoing attitude had been watching her closely since they’d begun climbing the rigging.

It wasn’t that he minded her learning, but she wondered sometimes if he’d expected her to take the safer route, or at least one that didn’t include the risk of breaking her neck. His desire to protect her was endearing, if a little hypocritical from a man who was entirely too casual about danger. Their departure from East Blue was only the most recent example.

It had been a few weeks since her birthday, when she’d left the only home she’d ever known, chased from her safe shores by a fleet of navy warships. That last part had thankfully not needed repeating, but then the navy didn’t have the same foothold on this sea, or the presence to enforce their authority, in her husband’s territory.

Hers now, too, or at least symbolically, although even then it was a lot to accept for someone whose only claim before this had been to a little bar on the seaside. She still hadn’t fully grasped the finer points of the New World’s politics, aside from the precarious balance of powers that always felt one nudge away from toppling, and even saying that she wanted no part in it, she wondered sometimes if she would even have a choice.

Warm fingers squeezed hers. “Ready?” Shanks asked, and with a fortifying breath, Makino nodded.

She felt him shift his weight, yielding room for her as she made to climb further up the ratlines, and following close behind her until they reached the footrope beneath the course yard, where the bottom sails were stowed.

Reaching past her, she watched him swing himself up onto the yard, nimble in a way that never ceased to amaze her. She’d used to observe him working aloft, that first year they’d been docked in Fuschia, but watching him still stole her breath, his amputation no more a hindrance than the wind, and sure-footed in a way that made her wonder if he’d ever feared anything.

She wished for a bit of that confidence now, as she focused on making it look like she wasn’t clinging to the ratlines now that he was no longer behind her.

Her gaze fleeted down to the deck. She’d never been particularly afraid of heights, but then she’d made a point of keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground. The only other occasions she’d stepped out of her comfort zone had been at his direction, except this was a bit higher up than atop a table.

Shanks extended his hand to her, and this time she was prepared when he pulled her up, her weight not even a minor burden as he lifted her onto the course yard in a single, fluid movement.

His hand cupped her elbow, steadying her as she found her footing. It was the lowest yard on the mast, but the distance to the deck still felt considerable.

The sea spray was gentle against her cheeks, touched pink by the sun that had darkened her freckles, the weeks they’d been at sea. The salt wind kept trying to stubbornly coax her hair out of her scarf, a few rogue strands freed to brush her cheekbones.

Looking up at Shanks found him watching her, so tall she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, a thought behind them she wasn’t privy to, but at her questioning look he just said, “It suits you.”

Bemusement wrinkled her brow as she laughed, winded from the climb, “What, sweat and your old capris?”

The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, a fey smile that made her wonder if she’d guessed correctly, before his hand lifted to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing the arch of her cheekbone before tucking an errant lock of salt-swept hair back into her scarf, as Shanks said simply, “The sea.”

Her grin wavered, and she had no comeback to that, but he only curled his fingers under hers, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, before gesturing to the mast. “After you.”

He let her grip his hand until she’d found a foothold, and kept one step behind her as she climbed the ratlines towards the top of the mast, until they’d reached the topgallant yard, and balancing on the footrope, he waited until she’d hoisted herself up before climbing up beside her.

The sea spooled out beneath them, the blue silk sky above the horizon the most perfect she’d ever seen. This high up, the wind sang louder between the masts, laughing where it tugged and teased the rigging, the shrouds stretched taut and the ratlines creaking as the ship swayed.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Makino eased her legs down on either side of the wooden yard. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing the world from this perspective, and couldn’t say if the thrill she felt leaned more towards fear or excitement. 60/40, probably.

She looked down.

…or maybe 70/30.

Searching for a distraction, she lifted her eyes to Shanks, his long legs draped astride the yard, like he might sit on one of the benches in the galley. “How does it feel?”

Breathing in deeply, “Like I want to throw up,” Makino said, and saw his grin where it split his face.

Her smile softened, and keeping her eyes on him, she said, “And like I never want to go back down.”

His grin held understanding, and a feeling that made her heart ache, it was so fierce, and that wasn’t the view’s doing, although it was an undeniably spectacular sight, the sea and the sky ever-bending, the world stretched as far as it would go from horizon to horizon; an otherworldliness about this ocean that was humbling, faced with her own mortality against those terrifying powers, which had nothing to do with the pirates who sailed it.

Before coming to the New World, she hadn’t known what to expect. Between Shanks’ camping stories and the navy’s propaganda, all she’d known was that it wouldn’t be anything like East Blue, which meant she couldn’t keep being the same person she’d been. Not if she wanted to be in an Emperor’s crew, even just as his wife. There was no room for the ordinary in this realm, where only the extraordinary survived.

Lowering her gaze, she braved a glance at the deck far below. Hopefully she wouldn’t fall and break her neck. Given the countless ways to die on this sea, it seemed a somewhat anticlimactic way to go.

Lifting her eyes to Shanks found him considering her, outlined by the sun behind him, his eyes hooded under his scars, a curiously vulnerable look in them now, as though he couldn’t quite make himself believe she was really there.

She wondered if that look would fade, if he ever came to regret bringing her with him.

The intrusive thought slipped past her defences, before she blinked it away.

“So, my barmaid,” Shanks said, the tender note in his voice rendering it too sincere for teasing. “How are you finding the pirate’s life so far?”

She hoped her smile didn’t betray her earlier thoughts. “It’s actually been pretty uneventful,” Makino said, with a lightness that attempted to conceal the slight shiver in her voice. “I’m almost beginning to wonder if you really were exaggerating about all your dangerous escapades. I’ve seen no bears, either.”

His smile indulged her teasing, but his silence was telling.

She wondered what he was shielding her from, and if she even wanted to know. But even if she couldn’t hide from it forever, she was grateful for the uneventfulness of their voyage thus far. It wasn’t the same as Fuschia, with its gentle monotony, and where change had always been welcome. On this sea, change could easily be synonymous with war.

Her stomach twisted at the reminder, but looking out over the sea found it calm, although she did wonder what would happen the day it inevitably caught up with them. Shanks had enemies, and one in particular had featured in her nightmares since long before she’d asked to come with him.

Blinking her eyes, she dispelled the thought of Blackbeard, anchoring her focus in the present, and Shanks on the yard beside her, in his shirtsleeves and with his pants rolled up past his knees, the deceptive trappings of a simple sailor, and not the pirate lord the world knew. The wind had dragged its fingers through his hair, and his scars looked gentler under the look of contentment on his face, his staggering features eased with a smile, and the note of tension that was usually there gone from his brow.

Looking at him, it was almost easy to forget the authority he held on this sea; the kind of power he commanded, and the territories under his flag. To believe for a few seconds that she might be a simple sea captain’s wife, and nothing more.

But lifting her eyes to the top of the mast, and the jolly roger dancing on the breeze, there was no denying what he was, and what she was now, and had been since the day she’d married him. That the pirate who’d stolen her away from her quiet shores was not the same who’d first dropped anchor in her port twelve years ago; the one she knew as her husband.

She didn’t know him like that―as Emperor. She wondered idly if that was what he was shielding her from, more than anything else.

“You know,” Shanks said then, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re handling this a lot better than most do, their first time aloft. Buggy only made it halfway up―I bet him that I could climb higher, so of course he had to prove me wrong. You should have seen him. Captain had to climb up to get him down.”

“What about you?” Makino asked, smiling. She could picture it easily, for all that she’d never actually met Buggy.

His grin belonged to the eight-year-old up to no good, all boyish pride. “I made it to the top.”

“He had to get you down too, didn’t he?”

“Yup. I think I even cried a little on the way down.”

Her laugh tumbled out, the sound softening his eyes, and she saw his gaze where it drifted a bit, as though remembering.

Watching him, Makino tried to picture their son at that age, if he would be similarly brave, and foolish, and if he might have a little brother or sister egging him on. Maybe even more than one.

It wasn’t the first time the thought found her, imagining more children. She hadn’t brought it up since the birth of their son, and didn’t know how to broach the subject now, when their lives had changed so much. She hadn’t been able to make herself ask him what he felt about it, afraid of what the answer would be. It was already a risk having her on board, and a baby who wasn’t even a year old. A pregnancy wouldn’t exactly make things easier.

Would he think it would be too dangerous for her to stay? She couldn’t say he would be wrong, but just thinking about going back to her life before, and that aching loneliness, to wait, scared and alone on some island, filled her with a fear that made all her other worries pale in comparison.

She knew his old captain had accepted the risk, allowing the wife and children of one of his men to sail with them, but it had been a different time, and from what Shanks had told her, she could hold her own against the best in their crew. Makino couldn’t say the same for herself.

“It proves my point, though,” Shanks said, drawing her back from where her thoughts had gone, and her hand slipped from where it had been worrying her stomach. The admiration in his voice was genuine, but then for all his teasing, he’d never been the type to indulge her just to make her feel better. “You’re a natural. At this rate you’ll be dancing on the yards in no time.”

The impulse seized her, not an unusual feeling where he was concerned, wanting his eyes on her, and his admiration. It was what gave her the courage now, overtaking her fear, and spurred by the sight of his eyes widening, Makino put the future out of her mind, focusing instead on Shanks as she made to push to her feet.

Shifting her weight, she rose to her full height. She wasn’t looking at him now, but felt his focus, the near-physical grip of his eyes, fastened on her where she balanced on the yard. The wind tugged her blouse from where she’d tucked it into the waistline of her breeches, filling her lungs, until she felt light as air. Aside from being terrifying, there was something exhilarating about being aloft, so high up it felt like you could see to the very ends of the world.

The yard creaked beneath her bare feet, but her balance held as she walked the length of the yardarm, her arms lifted, but she didn’t waver, a balletic grace that cheerfully defied her hesitance climbing up, and reaching the end of the yard, she turned to find his mouth hanging open, and couldn’t keep her smile demure where it split her face, her secret revealed.

She wished she could commemorate the look on his face somehow, as Shanks told her, “I don’t know what I’m more proud of, your acting skills or the fact that you’ve been practicing without me noticing.”

Smiling, she didn’t mention that the last one had been a bigger challenge than learning to work aloft, but the nights he’d been busy with their son, going to sleep early, she’d sneak out to practice. Fen and Yasopp had been teaching her, and she saw Shanks single out both culprits now in the crow’s nest, wearing near-identical grins.

His eyes found hers again, a new look in them now, as though he was seeing her differently. And it was a look she knew but that never failed to catch her off guard, something that was at once tender and fierce, and that filled her with a thrill that knew no equal, even against the adrenaline rush of being aloft where she stood atop the sea, dressed in the warm spray and the salt wind and with blisters on her hands and feet that it would take some time yet to become proper callouses.

She wondered what he saw now when he looked at her, if it was a barmaid or a pirate; wasn’t sure which she felt like, but the look on his face rendered the distinction unimportant.

Glancing down, the drop still made her stomach turn in on itself, but it was a different feeling being up here now than it had been the first time. It might also have something to do with his reaction, and the grin that was so proud it looked like it couldn’t go any wider.

Her own pride made her bold, and made her forget the distance to the deck, and holding his eyes, she didn’t pay enough attention to her feet, or the loose bit of rope where it peeked out from where the sails were stowed.

It caught her foot.

She saw Shanks’ eyes widening, his grin falling as he scrambled to reach for her, but it was too late.

Terror seized her limbs, and even the formerly playful wind couldn’t cushion her fall as she plummeted through the air. For all that it had seemed so far, the drop to the deck below was quick, and she had less than a second to think as she twisted mid-air, grabbing for the rope as Fen tossed it down, and her heart lurched into her mouth as her downward descent changed course, the momentum provided by her fall allowing her to swing around the main mast.

The wind rushed by, dragging tears from her eyes and a terrified laugh from her chest as she soared through the air, towards the deck and the crew who’d gathered to watch, wearing horrified expressions and looking like they’d been prepared to catch her, but they were forced to step aside as Makino released her grip on the line.

Her landing wasn’t as smooth as she’d wanted, as releasing the rope saw her stumbling forward as her feet touched the deck, multiple pairs of hands reaching out to grab her, but she didn’t fall, catching herself against Lucky, who was the closest.

A full second of stunned silence followed where no one made a sound, before Yasopp let out a whooping cheer, but the rest looked so shocked, they didn’t immediately respond.

She saw the first wavering grin, before more rippled through the crowd, followed by their voices, their salt-hewn timbres raised in a roar under the open sky. It filled her chest, leaving her lightheaded as rough hands ruffled her hair and gripped her shoulders.

Still reeling, Makino didn’t tell them she was glad for the support, because it felt like her knees were about to give out.

Her heart was pounding against the roof of her mouth, adrenaline and childlike exhilaration pulling a winded laugh from her chest, bright and airy as she lifted her eyes to the main mast, only to find Shanks calling down towards her.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she didn’t even attempt a demure smile this time, or pretend her knees weren’t trembling as badly as her voice, even as she called up, “Were you worried, Captain?”

His breath left him in a gust she couldn’t decide whether or not was a laugh.

She watched as he lifted to his feet, her eyes widening as he reached for one of the lines, before diving off the topgallant yard, using the propulsion from his jump to swing around the mast like she had, although with far more control.

But where she’d expected him to step onto the deck, he only shifted his weight, allowing his momentum to carry him towards where she was standing, and she’d just realised what he meant to do when he swept her off her feet, the arm extended to hold the line wrapping around her tightly.

Her hands scrambled for purchase, clinging to his broad shoulders, a shrieking laugh pulling from her lips, chased by his deeper cadence as they soared through the air, once more around the mast. The wind carried them forward, and glancing down saw the drop to the water below, but it wasn’t fear that filled her this time, her nose buried in his neck with her laughter, like when he’d spin her, dancing in her bar as the fiddle played until she was dizzy and gasping for breath, only this time they danced on the squalls to the singing of the ship.

He put them down on the deck, his arm around her keeping her legs from giving out as he stepped off, holding her to him as he gently eased her down on her feet. Her whole body shook, adrenaline and laughter in equal measure as she steadied herself against his body.

His arm curled around her loosely, his palm spanning her back, but he didn’t let her go, which Makino appreciated, as she didn’t trust her legs just yet.

“That’s payback for nearly giving me a heart attack,” Shanks said, playfully chiding, although there was a slight waver in his voice that couldn’t be smoothed over with humour.

Looking up at him where he held her, her beaming smile didn’t know how to contain itself. “I wanted to surprise you.”

His look softened, somehow both achingly proud and mildly exasperated, as he told her wryly, “You succeeded.” Touching his chest, he let out a wheezing sigh. “Well, at least I know my ticker is working. Always good to know at my age.”

“I try to keep you on your toes,” Makino said, and gently glib, “That’s what a younger wife is for, or so I’ve heard.”

The chuckle that left him was winded, and pulling her close, “I love you,” he sighed. “You’ll send me to an early grave, but at least I’ll be really excited about it.”

Her grin hurt. “Any comments on my form?”

“Exquisite. Dainty and petite. Perfect, tiny breas―”

She clapped her hands over his mouth, her laughter loud and startled. “Shanks!”

“What?” he asked, his voice muffled behind her hands. “Oh, was that not what you were referring to?” His grin peeked out from behind her splayed fingers, her palms catching on his beard as he chuckled, “My bad.”

Kissing her fingers, he wrapped his own around them, his big hand dwarfing hers as he squeezed it. Makino almost thought it felt like his fingers were shaking.

His grin had eased a bit, although his voice was rough with pride as he kissed her small fist and said, “Quick reaction time, and damn impressive manoeuvres. A bit shaky on the landing, but you get extra points for theatrics.”

Beaming, she didn’t mention that she’d fallen on her ass the first eight attempts; she was just delighted she’d stuck the landing when it counted. “I still need more practice going down,” Makino said.

His whole face brightened, his grin fairly wolfish, and she recognised her mistake a second too late.

“Oh my god,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a gusting laugh.

“I’m torn between vehemently disagreeing with that statement and graciously offering myself up for you to practice on,” Shanks said, his arm wrapping around her as she bent her head towards his chest, her laughter helpless as he lowered his voice to murmur, “You know my feelings about that particular skill of yours. Look; it’s already got a standing ovation.”

She pinched his side, and demurely ignored said standing ovation where it pressed against her stomach, her arms wrapped around his waist as she leaned into his chest, his laughter soft as he pulled her close, a trembling kiss pressed to the parting of her hair.

The others were there, their voices raised with delight, “Seriously, Makino!”

Nervous laughter. “You really had us going there for a moment!”

“Yeah, no shit. I thought my heart was about to fall through my ass!”

“Lovely image,” Shanks said, his arm sliding around her back as she leaned into his side.

Ben was holding Ace, awakened from his brief nap by the commotion. For once, his untouchable expression yielded a surprising amount of feeling, although Makino didn’t know whether to call it relief or like he desperately needed a smoke.

“You’re supposed to be the one with sense,” he told her, handing the baby over to Shanks when he reached his arms towards his father.

Shanks just grinned, and settling their son on his arm, “Just wait until this little guy begins climbing the rigging. It’s a good thing you can’t get any greyer, Ben, but then it’s my turn now, I guess.”

Ben looked at them both, then at his godson. Makino wondered if it was the first time the thought had occurred to him.

Smiling, and ignoring the thought of how she would handle an overactive toddler on a ship, “Wish you hadn’t quit smoking?” Makino asked him.

Ben looked at the baby, making excited babbling noises as Shanks pointed at a seagull grooming on the yard where they’d been sitting.

But for all his long-suffering, and the worry she still felt that they’d be too much trouble to have aboard, it wasn’t regret that made a startled grin break across his face, catching even her off guard as Ben said, and with a look that made her wonder if he knew what she was hiding, “A small sacrifice.”

57 notes · View notes

missmungoe · 7 years ago

Note

Shanks and family ;) - Camellia and Xeranthemum

LAY THE SEA AT YOUR FEET // shanks x makino // camellia; my destinyis in your hands, xeranthemum; eternity, immortality

Apirate’s freedom of choice has always sat at the bow of his heart – the freedomto choose the sea, and how to sail it; to choose your own life, and how to liveit. And he’d chosen the sea, and a life on it – like he’d later chosen aland-bound life, when the sea let him go.

Andit’s always been important that his children have that same freedom – that theworld they fought so hard for would allow them their choices, whatever theyturned out to be.

Hisson has little interest in the sea, at least not beyond the one found betweenthe pages of his books. There’s a different kind of adventure in that heart,Shanks knows – a curiosity that seeks truth, and knowledge, if not necessarilythe adventure to find it. And it’s his choice to make – his life to live, andShanks had never imagined his whole brood would grow up to be pirates.

But�� “Pirate King,” his daughter, fiveyears old, announces loudly, little chin lifted and her mother’s eyes fixed on Shanks,as though a deal has been struck in the speaking, and he’s now a witness,should the need for one ever arise.

“Thisis your doing,” Shanks tells Luffy, who only grins, seeming wholly pleased withhimself. “And you do realise you’re encouraging her to pursue a title that you’re currently holding, right?”

“Youonly hold a throne until someone usurps it,” his son says, without looking upfrom the book in his lap. At the stunned silence that follows that statement,he lifts his gaze, and adds, carefully, “That’s what uncle Ben says.”

Shankslooks to Ben, aghast. “What are you teachingmy kids?”

Benonly smiles, dry expression tellingly innocent, and, “Pirate King,” his daughterdeclares again, with a sharp, decisive nod of her head, as though thetwice-invocation has sealed her fate – and with it, Shanks’.

Andrecognising the stubborn lift of that chin, Shanks is, reluctantly, inclined toagree.

—

Thedream of swashbuckling grandeur doesn’t lessen with the years – on the contrary,it only grows, swells and crests with a boundless enthusiasm Shanks recognisesas his own, if only tempered ever so slightly by her mother’s calmpracticality. And it’s hard not to delight in it, recognising that smile, and the restless,always-anticipating heart, searching the horizon for ships, and dreaming of theseas beyond it.

Shegrows up, their swallow, half in the water, half on land, climbing the riggingon Luffy’s ship with her eyes closed, to scare the gulls perching on the mast,small hands steady on the ropes and her legs rooted to the planks, like she wasborn to live with sea under her feet. She can tie all the sailor’s knots Shankscan teach her by the time she’s six – and all of them again one-handed beforeshe turns seven. She’s the best swimmer out of all her siblings, and can shoota bottle at twenty paces without pausing for breath before she’s ten (Yasopp’sdoing, to which he’d only looked at Shanks, brows raised, as though to say ‘oh this you have a problem with?’)

Shebraids her hair with flowers and seashells and her mother’s old kerchiefs –learns to cook, to navigate, to chart stars (“in case I can’t find a goodnavigator like Nami-nee right away, or a cook like Sanji-nii,” she says,matter-of-fact; so fiercely, wonderfully practicalShanks doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but “she’s yours,” he tellsMakino, fondly, desperately, “they all say she’s mine but she’s yours”).

Shehas no patience for her brother’s books, but delight brightens her eyes at anold compass tucked into her palm, one birthday among many. But Luffy catches onearly, and her small treasure hoard fills up, odd trinkets brought from acrossthe five seas – a looking glass from Roger’s time, and a map drawn by Luffy’s navigator,showing all the corners of the world, sea and sky alike. A seashell thatrecords, voices and songs, and she knows every sea shanty that’s ever beensung, in every tavern and on every deck across the Four Blues, the Grand Line; grows up hummingthem into the sea breeze, into the spray, into her mother’s garden, as thoughin the hopes that the soil will sprout shells and seaweed, not flowers.

She’sa pirate before she’s twelve, small legs land-bound even as her heart travelsbeyond the port, but it’s not with impatience that she declares herself so(“the sea isn’t going anywhere,” she tells them, when asked, and, “the horizonwill still be there when I’m old enough,” she adds, and Shanks doesn’t stoplaughing for years).

Andshe’s right. The sea doesn’t go anywhere, doesn’t change, but she does – grows up, beautiful and bold,the years passing him by too fast for him to catch, to hold, seeming to slipthrough his fingers before he’s had the chance to try. It’s inevitable, Shanksknows. Their years aren’t numberless, even if his daughter treats them likethey are – as though she’s got all the time in the world, all the weeks andmonths and years, and all of the sea in the world on which to spend it.

Butpart of him is glad of it, that she thinks that way, and that sea she desiresis what it is; a kingdom under a king who values freedom above all otherworldly treasures. It should be like that, for the young. And for the old,there’s freedom in the choice to kick back your feet, and watch the youngconquer.

Ofcourse, it’s easier said than done, and he might be old, but he’s still a father, and he knows the sea well enough thatit’s not with an easy, complacent heart he’ll hand over the one he hasn’tforgotten the shape of, when it was still small enough to fit into the crook ofhis arm.

—

“It’llbe fine, dad.”

“There’sa storm brewing.”

“Thereisn’t a cloud in the sky,” his daughter says, patiently, her smile small; hermother’s, too-clever thing.

“Ican feel it in my bones,” Shanks tells her.

“Aren’tthey a little old for that?” Makino asks, entirely unhelpful, and Shanks shootsher a look, as though to say traitor.But all he gets for his troubles is the same smile staring back at him fromtheir daughter’s face.

Shankslooks at the water – like his wife, traitorously calm under the aforementioned,uncluttered sky. “The weather might still change,” he says, and doesn’t carethat he sounds hopeful. “You might want to wait it out – you don’t want tospend your first voyage retching your guts out. I’ve been there – it’s notpretty.”

“Idon’t get seasick,” she tells him pertly. “I’m not Ace.”

“Hey,”her brother says, gently affronted, glancing up from his book, seeming pluckedout of thin air. Where he’d kept it hidden on his person, Shanks has no idea; hestopped asking years ago.

Recognisinga battle lost, Shanks looks to Luffy, observing their farewells with an unusualquietude. “Keep her safe, Anchor.”

Asigh from his right, fond and long-suffering. “Dad.”

“Andkeep her fed.”

“Dad.”

“Anddon’t let her call the shots – you know she’ll try.”

“Dad.”

“Andif she does try, you could always put her in a barrel and send her back home–”

“Shanks,” Makino laughs, a hand on hisarm. He doesn’t have to feign his pout.

Forhis part, Luffy only grins, and, “I will,” he says, to all of his demands inone fell swoop, as though it’s that easy, and with enough of that familiar,no-holds-barred determination that it allows Shanks to feel a little better.

Theirgirl rolls her eyes, but allows him his dramatics. And she is her mother’sdaughter in that, Shanks thinks, as well as so many other things.

“Emmy,”her brother says then, drawing her attention. His book tucked back into its hidingplace, Ace looks at her – considers her where she stands, well over a headshorter but towering like a captain, even if she’s far from that, yet.

Shankswatches her right her shoulders a bit under the quiet scrutiny. For all herquick-claimed authority, a captain of their home since before she learned towalk, she’s always respected her brother, even with his calm, bookish nature,so different from her own. But she’s never been one for telling others how tochoose their dreams – or how to live them.

Then,reaching up, Shanks watches his son pluck the straw hat from his head, to placeit on hers, and the expression alighting across her face chases that small,patient smile away, leaving something so earnestly startled, it looks suddenly vulnerable. More than she’d otherwise allow herself to be.

Andshe’s not eighteen then, in that moment. No, standing there, dark eyes too widefor her face and wonder brightening her features, she’s four, small hand tuckedinto his, watching a ship pull into port and asking, da, where does the big ship go, when it leaves?

“There’smore chance of adventure where you’re going,” Ace tells her, repeating words that are older than he is. “Give it some goodones.” And when her lip trembles it yields a sob – a soft, laughingthing, because she’s always laughing; has been, ever since the day she learnedhow.

Freeof the hat, their son’s hair glows, burnished copper under the sun, and the hatalmost tips off her head when she throws her arms around him.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Ace tells her, wrapping her up, with too-long arms and hands thathave always been more comfortable tracing book spines and pages than sword-handles and ship’s rope.“Mom will worry.”

Shecasts a glance behind them, meets Shanks’ eyes, and when her mouth purses withher smile, she doesn’t bother trying to hide how it trembles. “I don’t think momis the one you need to worry about,” she tells him, thickly.

“Hey,”Shanks says, laughing, but can’t find it in himself to sound convincinglyput-off. Makino says nothing, but then the hand shaking on his arm says enough.“Have some sympathy for your old man’s heart. It’s not getting any younger.”

Theyshare a knowing smile – the way of siblings, mischief and unwavering loyalty allwrapped up, a sailor’s knot it will take more than a little distance to loosen.

Theirbaby sister lingers, quiet between Shanks and Makino until the opportunitypresents itself, never one for claiming space, or attention, but her embrace isharder than Ace’s, small arms wound around her sister with conviction – withpalpable reluctance.

“Sureyou don’t want to come with me?” her sister asks, stroking her hand over herhair; a bright, unapologetic red. “You could use an adventure.”

Thatsmall back heaves, but it’s not a laugh that leaves her. Just a little over ayear between them, but their differences are bright and vivid. Their youngestgrew up with her feet planted firmly on land, wary of the water, and with no thirstfor it.

There’sa part of him that’s relieved – a father’s small secret, the gladness that hewon’t be losing both of them at once.

“I’mgood,” their youngest says, tears coating the words. Then, and with enoughglibness that his heart aches – “AndI don’t think dad would survive both of us leaving at once,” she adds, quietly.

Laughing, Shanks doesn’t have the voice left to protest, or even agree.

It’stime to set sail – Luffy’s navigator makes the announcement, voice ringingclear across the wharf, and Shanks feels the truth of it toll in his chest, histoo-old bones.

Shemakes for her mother first, and he knows that embrace. It’s the one that’s seenhim off, time and time again, and to darker seas than the one their daughter issetting sail. And even if Makino is quicker to accept, he finds her reluctance inthe shaking press of her palm against their daughter’s back, and the breaththat’s dragged a little too deep to pretend that this comes easy.

Itnever has, he knows. But she’ll endure it now like she endured it once before,and no doubt with far more grace than he’ll manage in comparison.

“You’llbe careful,” Makino murmurs. A quiet order, and she’s given few in her life, but it falls without apology now.

“That’sa given,” their girl says – not with bombast and foolhardy determination, but asimple, matter-of-fact conviction; the same that she’d once used to announcethat she wasn’t just going to be a pirate, she’d be the king of them all.

Makinopulls back – tucks her hair behind her ears, into the confines of the strawhat. Looks at her, delicate features and apple-round cheeks touched withfreckles from the sun; the small testaments of a heart that’s always beenliving, half in the sea, half on land.

Releasingher mother, she turns to Ben, observing quietly. Shanks watches a smile liftthe corner of his mouth. “Don’t start smoking,” he tells her, predictably deadpan.

Shelifts her chin – tilts her head. “Quit while I’m away,” she counters, calmly defiant.

Benlaughs – a short, soft sound, but if anyone’s ever managed to drag it out ofhim, it’s been her. “We’ll see,” he says simply, but the grin overtaking herface tells Shanks plainly what results she expects from that challenge. Shenever was one for admitting defeat with ease.

Sheturns to Shanks then, her open face imploring and her mother’s eyes shaded bythe hat that ties his whole life together, a red string like the ribbon aroundthe brim.

Hehugs her – tucks her under his arm, those small, restless wings and the heartthat was always too big for their island. “Swallows always come home,” Shankstells her, and feels her laughing, that bright, too-loud sound that puts even histo shame.

“Yeah,”she says, a quaver in her voice, and presses her nose to his chest. Her backcaves under his hand. “Every year.”

Then– “I’ll learn some really dirty sea shanties,” she tells him, and he laughs – it pulls from deep in his chest,to fall against her hair, and the hat. “So obscene they’ll make you flinch,”she promises.

Shankssmiles. “I was singing you lewd songs while you were still in the womb, mygirl,” he says. “There’s a challenge I’ll gladly meet.”

Drawingback, he lifts her hand – punctuates the promise with a kiss to her knuckles, and,“Do your worst,” he tells her – dares her.

She’scrying now, and she always cries like she laughs, loudly and earnestly, but for once her tears are silent, gathering at the cornersof her mouth when she flashes him a grin. “If you think your heart can handleit.”

His own grin having stretched, so wide it almost hurts, Shanksnudges the straw hat back into place – a little too big for her head, slippinginto her brow, over her hair, her mother’s bottle-green bleeding almost blackin the shade of the hat’s wide brim.

Andfor a moment she just looks at him, and in her face he sees all their years –that grey morning when she’d caught them all by surprise, coming into the world. Her first,stumbling steps between the tables of her mother’s bar. The moment she fell in lovewith the sea, sitting on his arm, her small feet kicking at the cold water andher laughter a bubbling shriek of delight under his chin.

Akiss to her brow, and he lets her go – watches her wipe at her eyes, butthere’s a skip in her step that she can’t hide as she approaches the ship,idling in the calm waters of the only port she’s ever known, beyond the storieshe’s told her.

Inher wake, Shanks watches the wharf – the preparations being made, for adeparture he feels in his whole body, like a wire strung too tight, begging forrelease. He hasn’t felt this restless in years, and it’s not even on his ownbehalf.

“Youalways say that she’s mine more than anyone else’s,” comes Makino’s voice,stepping up beside him. Her hand reaches for his, her callouses soft, familiar,and the tuck of her head against his shoulder allows some of the tension inthem to bleed out, of his muscles, of his bones. “But she’s always been yours,”she says, lifting her eyes to look at him. “And you know what that means.”

Hissigh is as old as he feels, and his smile crooks in a wry, rueful twist. “Thatshe’ll have a predilection for scotch, and a habit of picking fights when she’sdrunk?”

Hehears her laugh – that lovely, loving thing. Her fingers wrap around his,squeezing tight, and when she speaks her words are old, knowing–

“Itmeans that she’ll always come back.”

—

Theyears pass. She calls, and writes – sends her brother books (with notesattached, ‘you’ll never find someone ifyou keep your nose stuck in these things all the time, but if you insist,here’s one I think you’ll like’), and her mother (‘don’t show the covers to dad, you know he’ll just take it as achallenge, and he’s too old to be walking around without a shirt. Dad, ifyou’re reading this, I love you, but c’mon, let’s be real’), and her sistershe’ll send odd trinkets that make no sense to the rest of them, but that’lllight up her face with a smile that lasts for days.

“I’mafraid to ask,” Shanks tells Makino, who only laughs, and allows them theirprivate things, their small brood that grew out of the seabed, half on land,half in the water.

Theyears pass, until one day when she comes home with the tide – wholly unannounced,flitting back into their midst with the same ease she’s always had, theirtoo-quick girl with her swallow’s wings.

It’sthe middle of the night, and their island sleeps, but he hears the doorcreaking downstairs – recognises the presence, and the footsteps that have neverquite managed to be quiet.

Akiss to his cheek, rousing him out of sleep, and, “Dad,” comes the whisper, witha touch to his shoulder.

“Thefridge is empty,” his daughter declares, loudly, and he’s tempted to toss thepillow at her head.

ButMakino is already moving, wiping sleep from her eyes, before her arms are fullof laughter, and their daughter (although they’ve always been one and the same,those words).

Ittakes longer for Shanks to follow, grumbling half-heartedly, but there’sanother kiss to his cheek waiting when he does, and then their daughter is talking (and that’s his, too, the mouththat can never quite stay shut), the sound filling up their bedroom, their home,their whole island, until there’s no space left for the quiet at all.

There’sa whole crew in their kitchen when they arrive downstairs, and it’s so loud thenight has no choice but to retreat, dragging the quiet with it, and Shanks forgetsabout lamenting Luffy’s influence, in this as surely as everything else.

Becausethere’s a feeling of things coming full circle, found in the old straw hat ontheir daughter’s head, and all the little things they’ve imparted on theirchildren – their son, sleeping half-sprawled across the table, no more an earlybird than Shanks ever was, and their youngest, compelling her sister’s blusterto ease into something bearable, smoothing the too-sharp edges of her laughter,her voice.

Andit’s not a king returned, not yet, but it’s never mattered to them what shemade of herself, sailor or pirate or king or queen, because she’s always been theirs, even with all the freedom in theworld, and the whole sea at her feet, to be whatever she liked.

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