Author's Note: First off, One Piece is the creation and property of Eiichiro Oda, and I in no way own or profit from this work.
Second, the real title is below. FF.net decided it was too long so I had to come up with a short title for the site. Finally, this is a fic about how Ben first met Shanks, several years before either met a certain Monkey D. Luffy. Hopefully it's somewhat in keeping with the world Oda and characterizations that Oda created. Oh, and for the record, he's stated that Ben is the smartest character in the One Piece universe, and I tried to reflect that.
Ancient Parshem Script?! A Forgotten Tongue Leads to Buried Treasure!
Chapter 1: A Brief History and Courtly Love?
Scholarship and learning had filled the first nineteen years of his life. It figured that with two parents as well-respected professors at the University, he'd inherit some of their intelligence. Ben had received all of it and more. By the age of thirteen he'd received his first degree, in general biology. A second followed in two years, this time in the dead language of Parshem. Two more years passed, and he earned a third, this time in astronomy. The year he turned seventeen was spent at the docks of the University's island and on the waters surrounding it. The sailors became accustomed to his questions, and he proved a quick study of all things nautical. At eighteen, the University offered him a job, helping his old professor translate a series of newly discovered Parshem scrolls. The work had gone far faster than expected, and he turned next to starting a degree in history, focusing his attention on the Grand Line. But it turned out there was little available information. Realizing that the only way to learn more was to go there himself, he sought various options to reach the fabled track.
He had enlisted in the navy for two years, trying to determine whether the life of a marine would be for him. A crack shot, wisdom, and having an imposing physical presence should have put him squarely on the command track. But, it turned out the mentality of the navy was too rigid, too inflexible for his own broad way of thinking. Plus, they had wanted him to cut his hair, and the uniform he had to wear made him feel like a walking target. He'd drifted next to a merchant fleet, spending a year navigating West Blue for a man who dealt in liquor and wool. It was steady work and kept him upon the sea, but it was also tedious and boring. Ben learned the hard way that he had little patience for dealing with slow-speaking farmers and dull-witted wine traders. He'd returned home, re-enrolling at the University with plans to finish the degree he'd started three years ago.
But the cloistered world of the school soon became small and stifling; even all the books in the greater library failed to soothe his wanderlust. He wrote two treatises in his spare time: a discussion of the liquor network and the effects of bootlegging on the West Blue marketplace, and a psychological study of regimental mentality on marines at sea for more than six months. He went to his classes fitfully, showing up to dazzle his professors for tests and avoiding the lecture halls like the plague four days out of five. His parents were driven to distraction by his moodiness, his itchy feet, his need to conduct experiments at two in the morning when insomnia and strange ideas had gripped his brain.
In desperation, his mother, a brilliant biologist in her own right and long a fellow at the University, contacted an old friend and colleague. The man lived on the Red Line coast and was infamous for his unconventional studies and wild adventures encountered while conducting research. He wrote back, saying he was forming an expedition to study weather phenomena and whatever else he ran across on the Grand Line. He extended an invitation to Ben directly, asking him if he wanted to serve as the ship's naturalist and conduct his own research. His mother wasn't urging the position on him, given the danger of traveling on the Grand Line, but she managed to let him know the offer was something of an honor.
Ben was sitting slumped in the back corner of Magellan's, a favorite hangout of the local students. It was a great place to party, but the bar was also specially sound-proofed, making it a good place for studying in the weeks before final exams. The letter from his mother's friend was held loosely in one hand, his fifth pint of the evening in the other. The offer was tempting, very tempting. He desperately needed to be back at sea. His parents may have been content, comfortably anchored to their friends and their work at the University, but Ben was not. He sometimes wondered if it was his father's fault, if a childhood filled with myths and histories hadn't led to his adult need to see these lands from the tales for himself. To go to the Grand Line, it was a dream it seemed he'd always had. And now that dream was within his grasp. All he had to do was accept the naturalist position and he'd be set to go. He'd even be a fellow, a scholar in his own right, not a mere research assistant. His mouth quirked up at the thought of all the papers he could write, the possible discoveries just waiting to be made. But…and there was a but, even to this seemingly perfect opportunity.
Did he really want to be stuck on a ship with men twice his age and more for who knew how many years? Sure there would be sailors, a hired crew to man the research vessel. But, would those men accept him? He would be on board as a scholar, an employer, not as a fellow mate. Even though he was fully capable to handle a ship, would the crew allow him to help? Or would they resent his presence and his skills? Ben already knew he couldn't spend all his time with the other researchers. The next youngest scholar aboard would be his mother's friend and was around her age of fifty-two. The oldest was some mathematician and cartographer who was in his early seventies. Ben was all too familiar with the hidebound attitudes of his elders. While many at the University were liberal in their thinking, Ben had long ago noticed that around sixty or so, the thought processes of most of the professors seemed to become fixed, not allowing new ideas to mesh with the one's they'd held dear for years. Trapped on a ship for an unknown span of time with a group of white-haired, stodgy conservatives was NOT appealing. He'd spent too much time already isolated from people his own age.
He'd been between the ages of most of his fellow marine recruits; several years older than the idealistic, naïve fishermen's sons and farmers' children and younger than the sailors who'd grown weary of the routines and risks of the merchant world, enlisting for excitement, safety, or a steady paycheck. The merchant fleet was filled with men and a few women in their mid-thirties. They hadn't treated him like a child, but they weren't very welcoming either. Home at the University, his own reputation and that of his parents kept the majority of the students away. The few who approached him were almost always looking to curry favor with one or both of his parents. What he really wanted was to find some friends around his own age, people who were reasonably intelligent and didn't know too much about his own education, people who wanted to have adventures on the sea, who wanted to go to the Grand Line because it was there just waiting to be explored.
It was annoying to admit it to himself, but he was lonely. Books and learning had filled his early years, his parents and his professors had filled in the role of playmate through his childhood. But now he had been out in the world, had held several different jobs for himself, had seen what life was like on islands not steeped in scrolls and theories like the University. He'd missed out on the age for imaginary friends and hide n' seek, the time for playing navy and pirates. He'd also missed out on stolen drinks and peeking on girls, of being one of a group of friends who did everything together. He'd be damned if he'd spend more time with his parents' friends. It was time to go and find some of his own. His mind made up, he knew there was no way he could accept the offer from his mother's colleague. He eased up from his seat in the quiet booth. It would be best to inform the man right away that he was not interested. He didn't quite know what he would do instead, but it might be for the best if he left the University again. He paid his tab with a nod to the barkeep and pushed through the heavy doors, leaving the quiet of the bar behind.
Outside, the air was unusually full of sound, a small crowd of rough-looking men gathered around the entrance to Nelson's Pub. That bar generally catered to sailors and visitors to the island and had a reputation of being somewhat dangerous. Unfortunately, and somewhat oddly as he'd always thought, the bar was farther inland than the one he'd just exited. There was only one road on the swampy island and it led directly to the University. If he wanted to get back home he'd have to make his way through the group of rowdies or else risk snake bite and mud-filled shoes by tramping around the back way. He stood there, poised in indecision before he shook his head at his own thoughts. 'When did I get so suspicious? It's more than likely that I can pass by undisturbed. Besides, how would I explain a snake bite to Mother at this hour?' Mind made up, he strode up the slight incline of the road, hugging the walls of the shops on the side farthest from Nelson's. The din fell ominously silent just as he drew even with the entrance to the bar. It seemed to happen in slow motion, the way the crowd parted before him as the doors flew open from the impact of a body. He had time to notice a ratty straw hat tumbling to the dusty street before he was nearly knocked off his feet. He reacted without thinking, arms catching the body that had hurtled towards him even as he dropped to one knee under the shock of sudden weight. He found himself looking down into a pair of warm brown eyes, framed by the reddest hair he'd ever seen.
"Mmm, my hero," the man drawled, amusement at being held like a swooning damsel evident in his tone.
Something like shock shook through his body, and he dropped the stranger abruptly, as if he had been burned. The crowd around them was laughing now and pointing at him. It was uncomfortable, feeling all these eyes on him. A fat man in a bandana had picked up the fallen hat and was dusting it off awkwardly with his knuckles, his fingers involved in clutching an enormous turkey leg. Ben rose to his feet, backing away slowly as the large stranger approached the fallen one currently laughing in the dust.
"Here Captain. You lost this when you left in such a hurry."
"Thanks." The hat was taken, and the red-haired man placed it firmly over his face. "I think I'll just take a short nap. After all, if it hadn't been for my savior here, my lights would have been out anyway."
The crowd laughed again, and Ben flushed, angry at being embarrassed and annoyed at the man for having chosen just that moment to get kicked out of the bar. He turned to leave, tired of the unexpected attention and the odd teasing.
"Going so soon? My knight, My hero, do not forget your fair Rosalinda. I shall remember you always, My Gareth!"
He broke into a trot as the crowd roared with mirth. He was sure that most of them had no idea what that man was saying. It was an old poem, an ode to courtly love. Having it said to him by that weird guy was uncomfortable, and he was positive he was being mocked.
"What the hell?" he grumbled in annoyance. "I prevent him from concussing, and instead of being grateful, all he can manage is to spout forgotten poetry to harass me. Who the hell was that guy anyway?"
He picked up his pace, running up the road towards the sprawling bulk of the University and the safety of its ancient walls. Back at Nelson's, a certain red-haired pirate captain finally decided he'd milked the moment for every last drop of humor. He sat up, moving his hat to sit comfortably on his head. The hand he'd thrown out to support himself felt unexpected smoothness, not the coarse grit of the road. He looked at the letter in mild confusion, before tucking it into the sash around his waist.
"It must be my hero's." He grinned a little at the name. The poor guy was obviously embarrassed by the name, but Shanks had already decided that he liked the flush of color his teasing put on the other man. "I'll hunt him down tomorrow and return it."
That decided, he clambered to his feet and squared his shoulders before walking easily back into the wild party in full swing in Nelson's Pub.