Somewhere, Somehow:::
A fierce wind strangled Fussha with upturned dust and dirty air. It was suffocating here, really. "Nothing like a fresh sea breeze" Shanks says under the roar of wind. He walks alone. It seems the market is closed due to the bad weather. His lengthy coat, black as night, sweeps low to the graveled ground as dust clouds around his sandal clad feet. He is off to his cove first, as if to mentally prepare himself to seeing her. His feet take him there so easily; he knows this place like the back of his hand, like the dutiful swift lightness of his sword, or maybe, ("should I still be thinking like this?") like the tips of seaweed green hair touching the taunt, perfect, paleness of Makino's bare back.
The sea breeze seemed best at this shoreline, even Shanks could atone to that. His sea met with Makino's sand. It touched her shores then tucked it's self away, which in another's eyes might seem sad, but in Shanks' the sentiment was nothing but lovely. He does not know why he is stalling to see her, but he is, and damn it that's that. Maybe he is slightly nervous. Funny, one of the four emperors of the New World is nervous? Ridiculous.
Shanks' eyes adjust from damp tree leaves and bark to their trusty secret seashore. White sands that even with stormy clouds above and rapid waves ahead, look inviting. However, a small figure appears to be in the sand. The shape is green and blue, his fabric of those colors. A black, big beanie hides his hair- though this aspect of attire goes completely unnoticed by Shanks.
The Pirate approaches the boy from behind.
"Mom?"
The boy says, turning to face him, but then his feet get caught in the sand they made a home in, and his face falls in that home.
Shanks' rambunctious laughter alerts the boy that this person is indeed not his mother. The boy is about to get up when he hears a deep thud next to his fallen form.
Shanks sits next to the boy who starts rubbing at his eyes.
"Damn it, old man! I've got sand in my eyes now!"
The boy does not see, but the pirate smiles, a special twinkle awakening in his eyes. The childish tone in this young boys voice reminds him of Luffy. The waves are louder now, and it seemed the trees are singing as their branches and leaves brushed each other behind the pair sitting on the sandy shore.
"Sorry kid, you shouldn't have fallen!"
"You scared me! It's your fault!"
Shanks was taken with the kid- a string tugged at his heart- this boy was a strange one. He sort of reminded him of Luffy, but something told him that this child was different than Luffy. He almost felt like he knew the boy, somehow, from somewhere (The feeling as something he could not quite place).
"Well sorry!"
Sniffles emerged through the silent, yet loud noise of the shore. Shanks looks on at the kid, baffled.
"Are you crying!?" Shanks exclaims, about to burst in to tears from silently laughing at the poor kid. The small form shuffles up out of the sand to sit upright again, next to this peculiar man. However, when the child opens his eyes, there is an intense stinging. Like needles prickling ever millimeter of his eye, he tears up and shuts his pretty eyes.
"No!" The boy yells loudly, "I'm just trying to get the sand outta' my eyes, you dumbass!"
The young boy attempts to clean his eyes as he says. Blinking, out in to the sea, Shanks does not see the eyes, vivid in purple chestnut coloring, blinking aside him. Shanks is looking straight ahead in to the sea too- realizes as the waves growl that he must leave the island soon. It took him a long time to get all the way here, and yet he had to leave so soon. A day or two was all he allowed himself here, with her. His ship, his crew, were waiting for him at the rarely occupied coast on the other side of town.
Shanks lets out a low whistle, "You've got a mouth on you, kid. Do all kids talk like you do?"
The boy freezes in his action of clear out his eyes with rubbing hands. Sand is getting everywhere- and with sand on his hands already, the attempt to get ride of it is pointless.
"I wouldn't know." The kid mumbles out, voice thick with a child-like sadness that seemed almost eternal. Oh, no. He'd heard this tone from a young pirate before, with a fiery will. Except the young pirate he thinks of was a teenager, sitting around a fire, drinking sake with him and sharing childhood stories. Shanks' lips shadow a smile- Ace.
"What's that mean? You go to school, don't you?"
The boy does not hesitate in answering- this attention; someone talking to him without babying him- this is new! He has always craved this.
"'Course I do! I just mean... Well-"
His smooth lips jut out in a familiar pout, but just as Shanks turns to see the boys face, the expression morphs to slight anger, his lips returning to it's normal state of a slanted line. The boy stops trying to blink the sand out of his eyes and now uses a new method of hold his eyes shut, moving his eyes under his lids rapidly to try to get the sand out that way. Shanks' lips quirk at the boy with closed eyes and allows the boy to continue, the waves and trees filling the silence for them before the child speaks again.
"They don't like me very much, is all."
Shanks adopts a neutral face, one he learned from the life of piracy. Or maybe he's always had it?
"Why's that?"
"Something to do with who my dad was- is, I guess."
"How old are you, kid?"
"Stop calling me that, old man! I'm five and a half, mind you!"
Shanks' scowls, and blatantly ignores the boy's yelp of indignation. The kid seemed quite wise for a five year old.
"You can't help who your old man is, though."
The five year old pauses in thought, adapting a similar neutral expression, and once again the melody of the storm calms their minds, coaxing the silence. Shanks' view shifts to the ocean, as does the boy's- his eyes purple and wide open. The young boy thinks of his mother right then, of how she always spoke so highly of his father. So highly, with a ghosting light in her eyes, even now the kid smiles a little thinking about it. He doesn't really mind who people think his old man is, he's heard too many amazing stories to think ill of him- whoever he is. His eyes sting once more, and he begins rubbing the sand out again with his smooth, now sand cleared palms.
"Yeah, that's true. And I can't change what those mean people think, even though I don't really get why they think it. "
The old man smiles and says, "That is true, too. Besides, being the bad guy is more fun."
And now the young boy's interest peaks out to play.
"Huh? I never heard that before!"
"Well it's true, kid." The man replies with a smirk, still watching the waves lap at Makino's shore.
"But why? - AH!"
The boy yells so loud that Shanks' head snaps in his direction in alarm. The young boy's eyes are wide and bright. "I CAN SEE!" He exclaims. The boy looks familiar, Shanks' thinks. But, where...? Looking at this kid is like having a hangover after an amazing night. He wants to, but he can't pinpoint where he's seen this kid before.
Shanks laughter rings despite his confusion, their ominous conversation slowly being forgotten. This kid placed his hands in front of his view, and then tugged his hat down in reflex of his glee; it's big size practically covering his eyes and ears.
"-Hey, don't laugh, old man!" The boy scowls at the old man, out of reflex as well. He hates it when people laugh at him. Absentmindedly, his fist also clenches in preparation- this guy seems pretty old, maybe he could take him-
"Sorry, sorry! You're just too funny, kid! You're just what I needed, too." Shanks breathes a sigh of relief, his tensions and nervousness leaving him through his exhale. The child's fist unclenches as the words repeat in his head: 'You're just what I needed.' His anger snaps like a rubber band right back though.
"What I say about calling me 'kid', old man?!"
"Yeah, I don't very well know your name though, do I? What else do I call you, brat?" Shanks' laughter only increases in volume as the child flings sand at him.
"I've got a name, you know!"
" Oh yeah, and what's tha-"
"AHHH!" Shanks' laughter stops as he watches the boy scramble to his feet, dodging a handful of sand that was kicked at him.
"Hey, brat what's the matter, now?"
" I forgot!" The kid exclaimed, grabbing his black hat in his frazzled state, "I forgot!" he repeats, standing up from the shore and running to a near by sand dune. He picks up his black and red knapsack from seemingly nowhere before turning back to the stranger.
Shanks stares at the young boy, noticing for the first time the cuts and bruises on the boy's legs and knuckles. His brow crinkles in suspicion, but he says nothing.
"My mom's got two rules: Don't talk to strangers and be home by four! I even forgot the mugs mom asked me to get from Mr. Lawson's shop for-! Ahh!" The boy grasps his head again in frustration at his own mistakes.
Shanks smiles, in a calm and reassuring way that he seems to be best at, the boy notices now.
"The cups will still be there, I'm sure. Besides, what your mom doesn't know won't hurt her." The boy's eyes narrow cautiously at the mans words.
"That sounded a little suspicious, old man." Shanks filches, "Not like that, kid!"
The young boy's nose crinkles, and once again Shanks feels like he knows him from somewhere, somehow.
"I'm still late!" He cries as he scrambles to turn and leave again.
"You need to work on your memory, kid!"
The boy slows in his sprint across the sand, pausing ten feet from the trees.
" My name isn't kid, old man!" He says, his pale green capris halting with his legs in movement. He turns around and smirks at Shanks' smile.
"Yeah, well what is it, then?"
The boy's face cracks into a big, shit eating grin.
"Spade! Spade Tsuki, old man, and you'd better remember it!" Spade's eyes twinkle, and Shanks' give up on trying to find this boy's face and explanation in his memory-muddled mind. It was probably just a hazy night, better worth forgetting. Except, in this sober memory on his beach, Shanks' vows to always remember this child's name. He feels the obligation too. Shanks got sand in the kid's eyes, after all.
"My name isn't old man either, it's Shanks!" He calls, however, the crash of a loud wave and the thundering of a fallen branch made the words lost on the young boy, who smiled unknowingly, clutching his knap sack straps, and turning to leave- running off into the forest. Shanks sighs, and his black, grey eyes drag back to the sea's frame, as they are always dragged back to his home.
The storm still rages on, and Shanks wonders if the sea is more beautiful when she is gentle, or when she is angry.
Getting up a few minutes after Spade left tumbling into the jungle, Shanks wonder if Makino will be the same sort of emotional puzzle as the sea, even after all these years.
A/N::: I am so sorry. I said i would update sooner and it has been months since the last update- ugh! I apologize, i will try to stop it ppfrom happening again. I know you prbably don't want my excuses, so i'' just part with a: thank you for reading, still :)