AN: In which another ridiculous romantic parody by yours truly rears its ugly head, and Shanks has cold feet.

Chapter IV

The sun had long since risen above the treetops, although it provided little warmth this late in the year, and Makino tugged her patchwork scarf tighter around her neck, adjusting the warm coat slung about her shoulders as she made her way up the hillside. It was nearing winter, and frost clung to the branches of the trees and the blades of grass on the ground, crunching under her booted feet as she made her way towards the old oak at the top of the hill. In her mitten-clad hands she carried with her a heavy, leather-bound novel, hugging its stout and familiar frame to her chest as she trudged towards her sanctuary.

Her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming out in white puffs when she finally reached the top, and she inhaled deeply through her nose as she turned to look out across the village sprawled beneath it. It was a bit too early in the morning for people to be out and about, although with it being so cold, most chose to remain inside no matter the time of day.

She sighed happily as she settled down beneath the tree, the trunk familiar and sturdy behind her back as she rested her weight against it, allowing her shoulders to relax for what felt like the first time in weeks. And perhaps it was – it had been well over a month since her life had reached an abrupt bend in the road, and she'd been thrown head-first into an existence of responsibilities and work. And with the pirates' unexpected arrival on top of everything, after which it had taken a good week for the village to settle down (although some still kept an extra eye on the horizon these days, Makino knew) – she'd known little rest aside from the one she got at night.

Which was why she'd started rising earlier to get her work done, giving herself a few hours of freedom to do as she pleased before the hustle and bustle of the day really began. It was a good routine, as it gave her time to both do her job and lose herself in the books she hadn't had the chance to read in what felt like a small age.

Smiling to herself, Makino lifted the book into her lap, pulling off her mittens and running gentle hands across the leather-bound cover. Her very first novel, and the one that had gotten her interested in reading all those years ago. Mistress Emiko had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday, and had in later years lamented the decision, declaring that she should have given her a dress or a decorative comb – something that wouldn't have taken up Makino's every waking hour.

"You're reading that old thing again?"

Makino looked up from the novel resting in her lap, a smile on her face. Emiko regarded her with a curious yet fondly exasperated look as she rested her weight on the broom in her hands. The older woman blew a greying lock of hair away from her eyes. "How many times does that make it? Five?"

"Four, actually," Makino said, grinning shyly. Emiko shook her head.

"You sure it wasn't a magical book I gave you? Where the story changes with every reading?"

Makino giggled. "No, Mistress. It's the same story. I just never tire of it."

Emiko huffed. "Well, I certainly hope you'll feel the same way about the life you're living outside of that book, if you put it down long enough to actually live it. Come on, put it away - you know how it ends, anyway. I'll make us some tea."

Smile softening at the memory, she traced a fingertip along the faded gold lettering on the front. It was her most treasured book, and ironically – as her dislike of fictional novels was a well-known fact around Fuschia – the one thing among her possessions that reminded Makino the most of her late Mistress. The protagonist shared many of her old charge's traits – a fierce and strong-willed woman that no man could ever hope to win, and who wouldn't think twice about speaking her mind.

"Comparing me to a fool in a book, are you? Well, there's one important difference between us – I'm real. Now get your nose out of that thing and go do your chores, girl."

Flipping open the front cover, Makino allowed her gaze to rest on the tattered yet carefully preserved pages and the inked words staring up at her. Leafing through the first few chapters, she settled on her favourite part – the one where the hard-headed, hard-hearted protagonist met the man who would turn her life on its head...

...she spun around in a slow circle, her fierce eyes taking in the sight of the approaching men quickly closing in on her. Drunk off tavern-wine, some teetered slightly in their steps, but the light in their eyes were the same. Feral, hungry expressions twisted their faces, and she felt a twinge of fear mingle with the furious anger bubbling in her chest.

'Why do you run, sweet Nisura? All I wanted was a dance,' one spoke up, a man she recognized from the tavern earlier that night. A man she had turned down. One of many.

Nisura's hands tightened in her skirts. 'Any woman with a shred of sense in her would run at the sight of a face like yours,' she remarked with a growl, stepping back ever so slightly, painfully aware of the wall at her back. She refused to let them see her fear.

The man grinned slowly. 'Ah, yes. You said something like that back there as well, didn't you? Embarrassed me in front of my men, and I can't say I liked that.' He took a step forward, still grinning.

''Frigid Nisura' – that's what they call you. Refuses the advances of all men, and women. Intriguing, I thought. Because you see,' he said, the grin vanishing, freezing the blood in her veins.

'No woman refuses me.'

The men that had been slowly advancing on her picked up their pace, reaching for her as they came close. She hissed, thrashing to avoid their grasping hands, kicking her feet as she backed further into the wall. The man – she didn't even know his name! – remained where he stood, hands behind his back as he took in the spectacle before him. She felt hands on her arms, their grip painfully tight, and she clenched her teeth as she attempted to pry them off. There was no use screaming – everyone was at the tavern celebrating the harvest, and if anyone heard, odds were they would be too drunk to do anything about it.

Her hands were forced behind her back, and she was pushed to her knees, and only now did the man start walking towards her, a patronizing smile on his face. Kneeling in front of her, he tugged her chin up.

'Still sure you don't want that dance?' he asked, as though finding the situation amusing, and the anger in her reached its boiling point. Pulling back, she spat in his face, a surge of pleasure rising in her chest as he drew back with a curse. Wiping his face with his sleeve, his furious eyes found her, and he reached back as if to strike her.

Abruptly, the grip holding her down disappeared, and she fell forward at the sudden lack of stability, her arms shooting out to catch herself. The sound of a scuffle reached her ears, and she pushed herself up, only to see the men having held her back on the ground beside her, out cold. Spinning around on her knees, she found that the same fate had befallen her initial pursuer, and by his still form stood the tall shape of a man in a green velvet coat, fastening the sheath of his sword back at his waist. He turned towards her.

'Are you hurt?'

She could only manage a small nod, gathering her skirts as she rose to her feet. The man before her returned the gesture, before turning to walk away, leaving her amidst her fallen pursuers, stupefied. She blinked, shaking her head as she called after him,

"You know it's interesting how the only man who doesn't make a conscious effort in wooing her, is the one who wins her heart in the end."

The calm observation took her by surprise, pulling her roughly out of the moonlit and velvet-draped world of the book and back to the cold Fuschia morning, and Makino smacked her head against the trunk of the tree as she sat upright from her slouch, hissing at the pain shooting through the back of her skull. Her blurred gaze swivelled upwards, meeting the scarred and grinning face of Red-Haired Shanks, leaning casually against the tree above her, where he appeared to have been reading over her shoulder.

Eyes springing wide at the sight, Makino's mouth worked, but no words came out and so she clamped her lips shut to avoid looking like a gaping fish. At last, she managed to find her voice, only to end up speaking the first thing that came to mind–

"You've read this book?"

It was far from the question she probably should have asked, which was something along the lines of 'what the hell are you doing here?', but it was all she'd been able to dig up in her state of startled confusion.

Shanks shrugged. "Years ago. It's from West Blue – the author was from my hometown, actually."

She realized her heart was still racing after his sudden appearance, and she forced it to slow down, or at least make a little less noise, as she was sure they could hear her all the way down in the village. She sniffed then, her cheeks colouring ever so slightly with embarrassment at her state of mind and, surprisingly, her state of dress. And she was suddenly all too aware of the ratty old coat that had once upon a time belonged to Mistress Emiko, and the mismatched patchwork scarf she had knitted when she was young.

"Do you make a habit of sneaking up on unsuspecting girls, Captain?" she asked, a little miffed at his interruption, as he made to take a seat beside her at the base of the tree, uninvited but seeming to pay no mind to the fact.

Shanks grinned at that, and it was such a disarming gesture, she felt her irritation deflate almost as quickly as it had ignited within her seconds before. "Well, I was going to call out, but you looked pretty engrossed in that thing," he explained. "Do you know you mumble the words under your breath when you read? It's incredibly endearing, despite its lack of coherence – what?" he asked, no doubt at the look on her face.

Makino blinked, incredulous, and gave a great sweep of her hand to his slouching form beside hers. "I– you– what are you doing here?" she asked finally.

Cocking his head, he seemed entirely unperturbed by her reaction. "Right in this moment? Having a conversation. In general? Well, paying a visit, of course. Told you we'd stop by sometime, didn't I? Or, heh, maybe I didn't. Ah, well. We're here now. Just came in from North Blue. One of the guys went to warn you about the influx of customers tonight, but he came back telling us you weren't there. I had a woman in town tell me where you were, although I had to be extra charming in order to get it out of her. Not a particularly friendly village, is it? Everyone is so suspicious."

Her exasperation was a desperately fond thing. "What did you expect, Captain? I told you it's not every day pirates stop by. Things have barely settled after your last visit."

The smile he gave her was decidedly wry, and a twinge mischievous. "Really? Doesn't take much to excite these people."

She closed her eyes. "You're impossible."

"Impossib-ly charming? Well, I'm flattered you think so. Ben refuses to admit it, you see, so I need my daily dose of outside validation from elsewhere."

She snorted softly, surprising herself. Here she was, participating in friendly repartee with a pirate captain she'd met only once before, as though they were old friends. The thought almost made her laugh, and she shook her head.

"What?"

She gave him a look, gesturing between them. "You – I don't know you," she blurted then, before flushing in surprise and embarrassment as she realized what words had stumbled out of her mouth.

"Oh?" He grinned. "We could always remedy that, if it would make you more comfortable," he said with a wink. Makino's cheeks only reddened further, and she turned her eyes away.

"Hey now, Makino-san," he began, nudging her gently to make her look at him. There was a sheepish and slightly apologetic smile on his scarred face. "I apologize for my forwardness. My mother always said I lacked propriety, and I do tend to get a little ahead of myself sometimes."

She shook her head. "It's quite alright, Captain–"

"Shanks."

She frowned. "What?"

He shrugged. "If you want to get to know me, Makino-san, you could start by addressing me as something other than my title. And although 'charming' is entirely preferable, my name will suffice."

She blinked, before a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Captain."

"Shanks."

"Captain."

"...Captain Shanks?"

She grinned, and he snorted. "Stubborn girl. Alright, have it your way, although I promise you I'll have you calling me Shanks by the end of the week."

That caught her attention. "Wait – week?"

He nodded. "Damaged our ship on our way out of North Blue, so we're staying a few days." He smirked. "Or would that be too much for these people? I promise we'll play nice."

She shook her head, the smile on her face mirroring his. "No, it's quite alright. Maybe it will be good for them. Just watch out for the lady selling fabrics in town."

"She doesn't like pirates?"

"Oh no, she loves pirates. She's one of our old maids, and she's – well, let's just say she's a bit unpredictable, when there are new men about." Or 'fresh meat' as the woman herself called it, but Makino refused to utter those words to Shanks.

He laughed at that, and it was a warm and earnest sound that brought a smile to her face. A comfortable silence pooled between them in the wake of his mirth, as Makino absentmindedly fiddled with the upturned page of her book.

"So does it really work like that?"

She glanced up, finding his eyes on the book. "Does what work like what?"

He motioned to the open page. "Is it really the silent, uninterested ones that catch your attention?"

Bemused at the turn of the conversation, she knew her smile had to reflect some of her feelings. "I can't speak for all women, Captain, but there's something distinctly desirable about the things you can't have," she said, giving him a sidelong look. "As a pirate, you would know first-hand."

"Touché. Although I'll have you know I refrain from robbing people – it's just too much effort. We prefer a more...comfortable way of pirating," he explained.

"A 'comfortable way of pirating'? And what would constitute as comfortable, if I may ask?"

He grinned, and for a split second a distinctly childlike glee seemed to seep into his countenance. "Why camping, of course! Find a remote little island, a good parasol and enough alcohol to sustain a pirate crew of a few hundred men, and you've got my kind of past-time. Oh, and then there's swordplay – everyone needs a hobby." For emphasis, he gave a light tap to the hilt of the sword hanging at his waist.

She arched a brow. "And that isn't too much effort?"

He grinned. "Ah, but that's fun, see? I've got a sparring partner, too. He stops by once in a while for a match. He's not much in the way of conversation, but he can drink us all under the table. A good trait, that. Then again, I've build a lot of solid friendships on less."

"Sounds like an intriguing fellow. Meet a lot of those on the seas, then?"

"Eh, guys like him don't come a dime a dozen, but I've met my share of good souls." He shrugged. "Lots of strange folk on the seas nowadays though, looking for One Piece."

Makino gave him a look. "I can only imagine what kind of people those are, seeing as you're the one calling them strange."

"...was that an insult in there?" When she only smiled, his grin widened. "It was, wasn't it? My, my, Makino dear, you're not nearly as shy as you had us all thinking. You'd give Ben a run for his money with remarks like that."

She laughed. "Oh, I don't think anyone can top Ben-san," she said. "But I must admit, you do have them coming, Captain."

"Shanks."

"Captain."

He grinned. "I bet the little lady in town would call me Shanks."

Makino rolled her eyes. "She'd also never let you out of her sight once she'd laid eyes on you. Fuschia men aren't exactly what you would call adventurous. Only farmers and merchants as far as the eye can see."

His grin was positively feral. "Likes 'em wild, does she?"

She laughed at that. "Something like that. There's also an old rumour going around that she used to be a pirate, but no one has any proof," she said. "It's a good theory though. She's rather fierce."

He barked a laugh. "Sounds like my kind of woman."

Despite herself, Makino blushed. "Watch your words, Captain, or she'll hear you and come running," she warned playfully. Then, getting a good look at him for the first time since he'd taken a seat beside her, her eyes widened.

Shanks blinked. "What's wrong?"

"What – what are you wearing?"

His eyes dropped downwards, but his look remained uncomprehending. "What? This is what I always wear," he said, tugging at the fabric of his capris.

"Are you aware of the time of year, Captain?"

A wry smile tugged on his expressive mouth. "The frost tipped me off, but would you so kindly point it out to me regardless?"

She glared. "You mock."

"And you don't approve of my choice in apparel, evidently."

She slapped his bare leg. "Sandals! Who wears sandals in winter? And capris?"

He shrugged. "They're comfortable. Much more comfortable that stubby boots, I'll have you know, and I would know. I've visited quite a few winter islands in my time. I'm immune to the cold," he declared.

"...your toes are blue."

He looked down again, and blinked. "It looks worse than it feels." Then he tried wiggling them, and winced. "Yeah – I take that back."

She rolled her eyes. "Immune my left foot," she muttered, rising to her feet. "Come on," she said. He looked up at her, brows raised in surprise. With a huff, she reached for his hand, tugging at him.

"Where are we going?" he asked, yielding to her stubborn insistence, and allowing her to pull him to his feet.

She pushed him towards the slope leading down to the village. "To Party's to get you some socks, you senseless man."

"Socks? I can't have socks in my sandals, Makino, I'll look ridiculous."

She nudged him a bit more force. "Not as ridiculous as you'll look after they've amputated your feet from frostbite."

"...can they do that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Captain, are you sure you're not Luffy's long lost father? Because you act just like him sometimes."

They had reached the bar by now, making quite the pair, what with her bundled up in full winter apparel, and him in capris and sandals, and there were quite a few villagers not-so-covertly staring at them as they walked past, some peeking through the curtains in their kitchen windows. Makino ignored them all, knowing an outrageous rumour of some sort was going to be all over the village by the time the sun went down, and knowing with even more certainty that she could do nothing to stop it.

She pushed open the doors to the tavern, leading him inside. "Sit."

Shanks did as he was told without fuss, and she headed for the stairs, tugging off her coat and scarf as she went. There was a room at the very end of the hallway that contained all sorts of old clothes – some were Garp's, having been left at the tavern for mending years ago and long forgotten – and as she'd thought, she found a pair of large, woolly socks amongst the neatly folded shirts and pants. Lifting them up, she hesitated, her nose wrinkling, before tentatively bringing them close to her face. Breathing a sigh of relief when she caught nothing out of the ordinary, she turned to head back downstairs, only to freeze in her tracks at the top of the staircase. Her back went rigid as the events of the past few minutes crashed against her like a tidal wave of realization –

– and what the hell was she doing?

Glancing down at the socks in her hands, she resisted the urge to muffle a scream with them. Had she just treated the captain of a pirate crew like a petulant child?

What was that man doing to her?

She couldn't remember a time she'd been so open around another human being, save maybe Garp, but even towards the eccentric marine she held some of herself back. But with Shanks...

She chewed on her bottom lip, mind reeling. He was surprisingly patient for a pirate, and had let her boss him around without complaint. But what if he secretly did take offence? Oh, she was an absolute idiot – a careless, reckless fool of a girl. What have you gotten yourself into?

"Everything alright up there? Did the socks get you, perhaps?" There was amusement in his voice, clear and without a hint of anything else, not even sarcasm. Makino sighed, grip tightening around the socks as she began her hesitant descent of the staircase. When the common room came into view, he was still seated at the stool where she'd left him, a smile on his face and a curious look in his eyes. She felt a mortified blush rise in her cheeks, and his frown was an instantaneous thing. "Something the matter?"

She chuckled breathlessly. "I apologize, Captain. I don't know what's come over me. My behaviour–"

"Is nothing to apologize for," he cut her off, a surprisingly serious look on his face now. She closed her mouth, fingers twitching nervously around the socks.

Shanks smiled then, and it was softer than the others he'd given her – softer, and strangely knowing, as though he was somehow aware of her inner turmoil. "If anyone is apologizing, Makino, it should be me. Piracy is a normalcy where I come from, but here it's like we're heralding the end of the world."

She sighed a relieved laugh. "Something like that."

He was silent for a moment, regarding her closely from his perch, before saying, "I can go, if you want–"

Surprising herself as much as she probably surprised him, Makino stepped forward to protest. "Oh no, that's not what I want at all!" And the second the words were off her tongue, she resisted the urge to smack herself. "Ah – what I mean is that you can...stay...if you want. To stay. Here." Stifling a shriek, she expelled some of her anxiety with a breath. "I seem to be having a problem remembering my propriety around you, too," she murmured with a shake of her head.

Shanks grinned. "Don't worry about it. It's endearing."

It was the second time he'd used that word to describe her, and the casual utterance sent her heart skipping a full beat. Makino tried to ignore it, focusing her attention instead on gathering her thoughts enough to manage a coherent sentence.

"I found you socks," she announced then, almost shyly. They were closely knit, with thick stripes of white and a terrible, bawdy green that screamed Garp from a mile away. Shanks raised a brow at the offering, and there was a moment of silence where he seemed to contemplate whether or not he'd ever seen such a hideous colour, before he shrugged.

"Eh. I've worn worse," he declared, accepting them as he kicked off his sandals.

Makino huffed a laugh. "Somehow, I don't doubt that."

He shot her a look, before straightening in his chair, wiggling his toes in his new socks. She stifled a giggle – he did look a little ridiculous. Turning to the bar, she asked, "Would you care for a drink, Captain?"

"Shanks. And yes, if you'd please. Something with a strong enough kick to make these stripes fashionable."

"Planning to drink me dry, are you?"

"Is that a challenge?"

She grinned. "I don't think I'll take the risk. Here." She handed him a glass. "On the house, courtesy of yourself and that heinous amount you left on my counter when you left last."

He looked scandalized. "Heinous? I thought it was an appropriate amount, given the circumstances."

"I could have built a new bar with those coins, Captain."

He grinned. "And? It's a good thing, isn't it? You can't have that many customers coming through here on a daily basis, and a few extra coins can only come in handy."

She regarded him closely for a moment from across the counter, her brows furrowed in thought. "You're not going to let me give it back."

Shanks raised his glass in a toast. "Not a chance. And if I catch you trying to sneak them back into my pockets, I'll leave an even more heinous amount when we leave this time."

She rolled her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the way the word 'leave' seemed to glue itself to the forefront of her mind. "I don't think I'll take the chance, your private coffers taken into consideration. Something tells me you're liable to go a little overboard, and I won't take more of your money than you rightly owe."

"Not that kind of girl, hmm?" he asked, regarding her from behind the rim of his glass, dark gaze keen and searching. She smiled demurely in return, forcing down the blush she could feel climbing up her throat.

"No. You're just not my kind of man."

He arched a brow at that, putting his glass down on the counter with deliberate care. "Those are fighting words, Makino. Could give a man ideas of proving you wrong."

She smiled. "Ah, but you've read the book – 'I will be proven neither wrong nor right'," she quoted with a smile.

He grinned, and there was something distinctly challenging about it that sent her heart stuttering in her chest, and – was he leaning towards her? The thought sent her mind screeching to an abrupt halt, and she was sure she'd stopped breathing as she found herself subject to the scrutiny of those intense eyes; the full weight of his gaze rooting her to the spot. Her heart leapt against her ribcage as he angled his head, fingers uncurling from around his glass as he made to reach towards her, and she was half-afraid she was going to pass out from lack of air when–

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

The familiar baritone startled her so much she dropped the glass she was holding onto the counter, sending shards flying everywhere, and her eyes shot towards the doorway and to the tall man standing there. Flanked by the rest of the crew, Ben's smile was a bemused quirk of the lips as he took in the spectacle before him – the fierce blush in Makino's cheeks, the broken glass, and finally, his captain's current choice of footwear.

His brows arched at the sight of the striped socks, before he shook his head. "You know what? I'm not even going to ask."

AN: Oh you know you want to, Ben.