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He should look away.
He knows it. And yet he can't.
The body is staring back at him like he's still very much alive, smiling still and he can't set his gaze elswhere.
Oh how he wished he could.
It was raining now, heavy drops of water falling from the straw hat on his head to his white shirt. Red strands of hair sticking to his face, water dripping from them, falling down on his back. He was cold. He thought about how cold the dead man up there was and about the fact he didn't have a hat to protect him. He wished he could give it back, if only just for a moment, a moment long enough for the sky to stop crying.
Most had left to take shelter away from the pouring rain. He stayed, limp and motionless just like the corpse up on the scafolding. His captain looked sick and dirty, weakened body left on display by the marines as a warning. A warning to what, the teen wasn't sure. After all the very last words of the king sent countless pirates at sea. This was the day of a new era, a new begining for pirates. He didn't want to begin anything, he didnt want to move fearing that if he looked away the man that raised him would disapear forever. He couldn't bear to be left alone like this.
After the crew disbanded things went downhill so fast he couldn't even remember how he got to Loguetown in the first place. Most of the adults had gone their seperate ways, like they knew exactly what they had to do. The red head was left with his brother to figure things out for themselves and now even he was gone. The other teen had screamed at him, looking back like he was something awful, worst even than what they had just witnessed. But the straw hat wearing teen just wanted support... he wanted a friend.
He stayed there, watching, remembering what his captain had said about where he came from and who he could go to if he wished made him sick. How could he go anyways? He had nowhere and no one left. Everything he knew just suddnely shifted. His brother had refused to follow him, his other crew members hadn't even came to see their friend, their captain's final moments. Where was the first mate? Did the old man really left him and his brother all alone? He needed a plan, something to latch on.
Did he want that? He wasn't sure anymore.
The rain had stopped now. He was cold.
How long had he been standing there? The corpse of the man who raised him hadn't moved, still sickly looking, still smiling like everything was going great, like his world hadn't fallen apart the moment the crew disbanded. The straw hat wearing teen wondered why his capatin had delivered himself to the enemy as if it was the most logical thing to do. Why had he laughed in the face of death, proclaiming that his greatest treasure was up for grabbs? The first mate would probably tell him that he'd understand once he'd get older like he did many times before. But he wanted to understand now. He needed to. How else was he supposed to carry on? He wanted to cry, to scream his agony to the world, to go back in time and beg his family to stay at his side, that he needed them, to beg his brother to please wait and understand. But he had no tears left in him, no voice to cry suffering.
He was still watching the platform like a hawk when two marines came to retrieve the body. His fists clenched on their own, nails digging into his skin to stop himself from screaming at them, then get recognised and killed. That's not how he wanted to go. No he'd never let himself get caught, not like this, nevre ever ever like this. Not when his captain already made that mistake. He watched helplessly as they dragged the body away, still not moving from where he was. He supposed the soldiers didn't want to get caught under another downpoor and decided to get things done sooner rather than later. The blood of the man he had called father would stain the wood for a while, even with the rain. He was getting sicker by the minute, thinking about that.
At some point he had started to walk he wasn't sure when or where. He roamed throuht the streets without thinking much until he arrived near the sea. When lost, even as a little kid, he always ended up going back to her. He didn't know how or why. Maybe it was because he had spent all his life sailing, discovering the world with her at his side. Or was she calling him back to her, to guide him, to show him where to go next. He didn't really want to go anywhere right now. The waves were big and scary, she was mad, the wind pushing her violently towards the coast. If he tried leaving now he'd probably end up feeding the fishes at the bottom of her depth, tangeled in her weeds.
He went back towards the island. In the streets people were celebrating like it was new years eve. He wanted to hurt them, make them suffer as much as he was. He went to the nearest bar instead, asking for the strongest thing they had like the adults used to do when they were docked at a new place. The bartender didn't bat an eye at his age or appearance, serving him like any other client.
The liquor smelled bad, like rotten fruit. It reminded him of the parties they used to have after a battle. Cheep booze flowing in every chop, getting thrown carelessly everywhere, staining clothes and dripping down faces. He never was allowed any but he knew it taste bad and burned. The adults were so cool, drinking it like it was nothing.
The glass in front of him looked big in his hands. He took a sip, it burned in his mouth and his throat. Was that really what they were drinking all the time? He took another sip, wanting it to hurt. He needed to feel something, anyrhing. He coughed, his body trying to make him stop. A stranger looked at him and laughed. "First time?" The teen didn't reply. "You'll get used to it as you go. It'll feel better if you drink it straight down." The teen glared, taking another sip, burning his throat again. The man frowned and left. Good. He didn't want to be bothered.
After the fifth glass he felt lightheaded. The liquor wasn't burning anymore, shame. It was dark outside, the wind had picked up. The barman told him they were closing for the night. He stood up, falling on his ass and didn't bother getting back up. They threw him outside at some point, mud staining his clothes and his skin. He didn't care, he couldn't even feel the cold. He got up, in search of another bar.
Two more bars and six more glasses of liquor later and he was thrown outside for the third time tonight. He tried another one, sitting as best he could on a stool and asking for more alcohol. Two drunk guys came bothering him. "Hey kid! Why the sad face? It's a celebration!" the other chimened in. "I.. I bet it's your first time drinking real hard hahaha! Got- g-gotta drink lots and party! To the death of that pathetic excuse of a pirate!" Red eyes narrowed in on their target, his body throwing itself at the happy drunk. He wanted him dead.
What did he knew about his captain?! How dare he call the man he looked up to pathetic?! He strangeled him, pining him down easily, rage written across his face. The other guy caught him under the arms and made him loose his grip on the drunk's neck. "You little shit! What do you think you're doing?!" He was thrown on the floor, his head throbbed. They kicked him hard in the ribs, punching his face multiple times before getting stopped by the barmaid who threw all three of them out.
The man he had strangled grabbed him by the colar of his shirt and started punching again, blackening his face and busting his lip and eybrow open. The other guy stopped him when he saw that the red haired teen wasn't even covering himself anymore. "Come on man, you've done enough. He's learned his lesson" He let go, the kid falling on the floor, unable to stand up. He spat on him before turning away to go to another bar probably.
He stayed on the floor, breathing ragged due to the kicks he had recieved in the chest. He was trembling, not from fear but from exhaustion, his muscles screaming in agony. His back was pressed uncomfortably againts the wet stone of the pavement, legs folded, one of his arms over his chest. He was looking up at the sky hoping to see the moon and starts but being greeted instead by menacing dark clouds. The wind was still howling. He sat up to look for the straw hat that had been knocked off of him when he was getting beat up, finding it laying in a puddle of mud a couple feet away. He got to his feet and picked it up, not even bothering to try and clean it a bit.
He wandered around aimelessly, tripping and falling at every rock or uneven pavement on his path, blood running down his knees and face from the cuts, his sword and other belongings lost somewhere in this awful island. Once again he found his way back to the beach, kneeling over in the sand to empty the contents of his stomach, his body trying to get rid of the alcohol poisoning him.
He looked back at the roaring sea.
He remembered a tale he had once heard, about the sea becoming alluring to sailors at night, drawing them in by the sheer force and beauty she had, lurring them overboard to hug them and never let them go. A story his captain had told him and his brother to scare them into staying away from the railing when it was dark outside. It had worked after his brother fell once and never got back up. The teen, still a child at the time, had to run get an adult to save his friend. He never approached the railing alone at night again.
Tonight however, there wasn't anyone he could call for help if he fell.
The straw hat on his head felt heavy with memories. Memories of his crew, his family. Memories of his childhood and of his capatain, smiling and laughing with them. He hated it. He hated the first mate for abandonning him, he hated his brother for not listening, he hated his captain for letting himself get killed and having the audacity to laugh in the face of death, something the teen was certain he'd never be able to do. He hated that stupid straw hat on his head, making him remember all those stupid memories.
He grabbed the cord of said hat, getting it off his head. He looked at it with disdain, arms going back to throw it as far as he could in the giant waves to be eaten by the sea, never to be seen again. His arms picked up speed, fingers digging into the straw, breaking some of it with the sheer force of his hold. He was ready to let go and seperate himself from this stupid hat forever.
But he couldn't.
And he hated himself for it.
Instead of throwing the precious gift of his capatain in the sea he screamed all his agony to her, clutching the hat close to his chest in fear of it beeing blow away by the strong winds. No, this was too precious to be thrown away. If that stupid straw hat was gonna end up in the sea then he'd go down with it.
He put the hat back on his head, cord going back around his neck and advanced towards the water. She licked his cuts, the wounds burning because of the salt. He kept going forward, furter and further up untill the waves could swallow him whole if they so wished and when the sea came to hug him he let her. Feet no longer touching the ground, floating under the surface.
This is what he wanted.
Right?
He held his breath out of instinct until he couldn't.
When the first wave of water hit his throat was when he realised he was going to die, right here and right now.
It hurt. It hurt so much more than he could have ever imagined. He could feel the water burn in his lunghs, filling the space the air was previously in.
He started fighting back, looking for the surface, looking for air. Desperatly, he reached the top. He coughed the water out of his lungs trying to take in a breath, thinking this was over when another wave came crashing into him, sending him back down at the bottom. Suddenly the sea didn't look as appealing as she had been earlier, strong currents throwing the teen around like a ragdoll.
He couldn't breathe, franticly moving in one direction, hoping it would be the rigt one. He couldn't see and couldn't hear either, the water around him an eternal maze. His straw hat was still attatched around his neck, strangling him. He guessed this was it's revenge for trying to throw it away earlier. Or it was just his bad luck. The red head found the surface again, screaming instinctivly, knowing deep down that no one would hear him amongst the violent waves. Still, he hoped to be saved.
The sea threw him back under.
He had no strenght left in him. Too tired to reach the surface and in lack of oxygen, he started to drift. It was still burning.
So this was it then?
That was how he was gonna go.
Alone and hurt.
Before loosing grasp on conciousness he felt something warm on his shoulder. And then nothing.
The tall man with raven hair had jumped in as soon as he heard the screams. The water was cold and his body locked up for a second but he pushed it past the soreness and kept swimming, trying to reach the person he saw just moments ago. When he looked back up to spot him the kid had disapeard, swallowed by the gigantic waves. He swore under his breath and dived down, miraculously reaching one of the arms of the teen. He pulled him back up, adjusting his hold on him before swimming back towards the shore.
He dragged the kid in the sand, away from the water and knelt besides him. "Hey kid. You hear me? Come on snap out of it." Pressing his ear to his chest to check if the child was breathing had been a good reflex since the kid was in fact not breathing. He strated CPR, knowing that wouldn't work if he was just a second too late.
"Come on! Get breathing! You don't wanna die here, do you? You're too young for that." Soon enough, thanks the seas, the kid started coughing. The raven head rolled him on his side so he could get the water out easier. He cougned it all up, shivering like a leaf. They both needed to catch their breath.
"You hear me now?" A weak nod. "Good.." The adult could tell the teen was still in shock but he didn't care.
"What the hell were you thinking?! Going for a midnight bath in a storm? You thought this was gonna be fun? Like come on dude, are you really this stupid? You could have died! Scratch that, you did die. You were drowning out there for seas sake!"
The red head stayed silent. He had sat up, looking at the ground, not crossing the other's eyes.
"Don't ignore me. Say something! What, did you wanna die?"
The kid grabbed the other's arm before responding.
"I.. I don't... No.."
He looked up, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Now that he could see the kid a bit better the adult realised how miserable he looked. One of his eyes was black and blue, eyebrow cut open, lip busted. He was pale and dirty, snot running down his nose.
"I don't want to die. Not- not yet. There's s-still.. still things I wanna do. I don't wanna die!"
He was clutching his savior's shirt, crying in his arms like a toddler. The raven head awkwardly gathered him in his arms to comfort him, understanding what the child had really tried to do.
"Hey.. It's okay. You're safe now. You won't die. Not if I have a say. You're okay, it's over."
The adult didn't really know what to say to comfort the crying child so he just held him as he cried in his black shirt, gently patting soothing circles on his back. He waited until the cries died down to back away, standing on his feet.
"Can you walk?" A nod. "Do you have a place to go?" the red head shook his head. "Alright, get up."
He did as asked, following the adult away from the beach and towards the port. He didn't ask questions or spoke, only looking up enough to see the other's legs in front of him.
The raven head stopped at a small looking house between two shops and opened the door, leeding the tired teen inside. By habit the older one took off his boots to not dirty his floor, the younger followed suit, not that it mattered too much since both of them had sand all over their legs. He led the teen to what looked like a bathroom. The room had a sink but no actual shower or bath, only a big barrel full of water with buckets around.
"You're lucky all the water's clean tonight. Wash yourself, I'll get a bed ready for you."
He left the kid to himself so he could wash off in peace. The red head took off his clothes, gently placing the straw hat on top of the pile before looking at himself in the mirror. He almost didn't recognise his reflection. His face was beaten up pretty badly and so was his chest, he hoped nothing was broken and started washing himself to the best of his capacities.
Once he was done he peeked outside the room. He was grateful to see a pile of clothes on the floor, seemingly for him. The white shirt was too big and so were the blue pants but at least he wasn't going around in his dirty clothes or completly naked.
He wasn't used to being in houses, always on a ship since he could remember. He saw light at the end of the corridor and followed it. In what looked to be a kitchen was his savior, sat at the table reading a book, a candle his only source of light. The adult looked up and motioned for the teen to approach. On the table was a box of what looked like medicine. The older strated patching him up, grey eyes focused on their task.
The way he did it reminded the red head of how their navigator would help him and his brother late at night when they got hurt, too ashamed of their stupid fight to go seek the help of the capatin or medic. He didn't know how to feel about that.
When he was done the raven head got up and leeded him in another room with some kind of mat on the floor, a pillow and a large piece of fur, then left.
The fur was probably for him to use as a blanket even if it stunk like fresh leather often did. The adult came back with a bucket and placed it besides the makeshift bed. The teen looked back questioningly.
"That's for tomorrow, when you wake up."
"Why? I know my way to the bathroom."
"It's not for that."
"What's it for then?"
"You reeked of cheep alcohol, you're drunk."
He still didn't get it but the other was already halfway out the door. "Sleep. You'll need it."
And he did just that, too tired to even think about anything, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
When he woke up he wasn't sure if he wasn't gonna throw himself in the sea again. The nausea hit him like a brick and he understood the use of the bucket. Once he felt steady enough he actually looked around for the first time.
The sunlight made the room look much bigger than it actually was but that was not what impressed the teen, no, the room was covered with books. From the floor up to the ceilign, piles and piles of books were scattered around the room having no space left to be nicely organised in the shelves on the walls, all already full. And yet, even the piles were nicely organised. It was the first time he saw this many books, even on the Oro Jackson, their bookshelves weren't so full.
He ventured away, coming back in the kitchen which was also the room they had entered from. Everything in this house was narrow and yet it looked lively. The man who had saved him was at the table still, this time cleaning a big riffle.
"Slept well?"
"Hu uh.. How do you have so many books?"
"They came from my mother. A very educated woman. She taught me everything. And you, what do you plan to do now?"
"Eat breakfast."
That tore out a laugh from the older. "Cheeky brat. Eggs are on the counter, there's bread somewhere and coffe's brewing. You know how to cook?"
"I know my way around eggs..."
"Good enough for me"
Not once had he set his gaze away from his weapon, still cleaning it with care. The straw hat wearing teen made himself breakfast and ate through his nausea.
"I'm guessing you don't have a place to go."
The younger stayed silent for a bit. "I might. But I need a boat."
"I could help you get one if you lend me a hand with work."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Steeli'n a boat ain't that hard."
The younger smiled, red eyes bright. "Deal! When do we start?"
The older chuckled. "Let's start by getting your name. I'm Beckman, Benn Beckman."
"I'm Shanks! Thank you for saving me Benn Beckman."
"As if I'd let a kid drown."
"I'm not a kid! I'm fifteen!"
"Damn you're young. Alright, here is what I need you to do..."
Shanks listened, his mind somehow more at peace than it had ever been since the disband of his old crew.
Outside the sun shined on the begining of a new era.