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The Red Force cut through the waves, her crew enjoying one of those mornings that asked for nothing but sunshine, sake and good company.
"Why would anyone sail to that tiny little island?" Yasopp asked, leaning against the railing as he watched the distant coastline emerge from the morning mist.
"What island?" Shanks barely looked up from the bottle in his hand. The morning had been warm and blissfully uneventful so far, and he saw no reason to change that.
"Were you even listening, Captain?"Yasopp blinked at the other man.
"Probably not." Lucky Roux didn't even bother looking up from his breakfast.
Yasopp sighed dramatically before pointing toward the horizon. "That one."
Shanks followed his finger. A small island sat quietly in the sea, unremarkable enough that most ships would have sailed past without a second glance.
Except one.
A ship cut through the calm water on a direct course toward the island. Shanks narrowed his eyes. The figurehead looked oddly familiar.
"Is that...?"
"Yeah." Beckman didn't even bother looking. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though he already knew exactly where this conversation was headed. "It's Buggy's ship."
For just a heartbeat, Shanks couldn't help but smile. "What's that idiot doing all the way out here?"
Yasopp kept watching the ship. "If they're really heading for that island..."
Beckman finished it for him. "It's probably because of the myth."
"What myth, Becks?" Shanks frowned.
"People say the island takes something from you." Beckman shrugged, taking another slow drag from his cigarette as though they were discussing tomorrows weather.
"Something?"
"A memory."
Silence settled over the deck as Shanks kept staring at the distant ship. A memory. His fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle.
"Which one?"
Beckman shrugged. "No one knows."
"The worst memory?"
"Could be."
"The happiest one?"
"Maybe."
"The most painful?"
"Possibly."
Yasopp scratched the back of his head. "I've also heard it takes the one you're most willing to lose."
Beckman shot Yasopp a flat look. "I've heard the exact opposite."
"So... none of you actually knows?"Shanks looked from one to the other.
Yasopp grinned apologetically. "Not really."
"It's a myth. Stories have a habit of changing." The smoke of Beckmans cigarette curled upward.
Shanks looked back toward the ship and he asked himself why Buggy would come here?
Maybe he was an a treasure hunt again? But what treasure could a little island like that hold? Maybe they needed supplies, but there was no sight of a harbour or even a settlement. The nearest port was half a day away. Why would they be interested in a speck of dirt in the big ocean? Suddenly the morning didn't feel warm anymore.
What if he wants to forget me?
Shanks was already halfway to the helm before he realised he'd started moving.
"We're docking."
"Shanks?"
"Now."
The island was unnaturally quiet. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant salt of the sea. Leaves rustled softly beneath Shanks' boots as he followed the narrow trail deeper into the forest.
Yet something felt wrong. There were no birds greeting the morning. No insects humming lazily through the undergrowth. Even after several minutes, he had yet to spot a single animal. For an island surrounded by life, it felt strangely empty. The silence settled beneath his skin. Shanks decided he didn't like this place. Still, he marched on. He was here for Buggy.
His pace quickened.
If Buggy had truly come here because of the legend... No! Shanks refused to let the thought finish itself. There had to be another explanation. Treasure. Buggy loved treasure almost as much as he loved maps that promised impossible riches. A faint smile threatened to appear before fading just as quickly.
More than once, Shanks had taken shameless advantage of that weakness. Fake maps. False clues. Countless pranks that had always ended with Buggy chasing him across an island while threatening increasingly creative forms of murder. At the time, it had all been hilarious.
Now he couldn't help but wonder if he had pushed too far.
A familiar laugh echoed through his mind. It was a memory from years ago. Two boys racing across the deck of the Oro Jackson while an exasperated Rayleigh shouted after them for stealing food from the galley. Buggy laughing so hard he nearly tripped over the rigging. Shanks caught him before he could fall.
The memory ached. Not because it was painful, but because once they had bin so effortlessly happy in each others company. Somewhere between those carefree days and the execution platform in Loguetown, everything had fallen apart. Roger was gone and the crew that was their family was scattered all over the world.
Shanks squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat. He could still see the look on Buggy's face that day. He doubted he would ever forget it. The hurt in his face as they parted, anger mixed with disbelief. And neither of them had found the courage to say what mattered most.
Come with me.
Whether the words had belonged to Buggy or to himself, Shanks no longer knew. He had watched Buggy run away. And he had let him.
It had been years till Shanks saw him again. By then, the boy Shanks had adored was gone. In his place stood a pirate with louder laughter, sharper edges and a painted smile that hid far more than it revealed. And an old sorrow lingering in his eyes. It wasn't until later that Shanks realised he'd been carrying the very same look.
Shanks let out a slow breath. He had never said any of it aloud, not to Buggy, not to anyone else, but now the words refused to stay buried.
He broke into a run, branches catching on his coat until he nearly stumbled into a small clearing. For one terrifying heartbeat, he thought he was too late.
Buggy stood in the middle of a ring of tiny blue flowers, an old, weathered map spread between his hands as he studied markings that had probably stopped making sense centuries ago.
"BUGGY!"
The blue-haired pirate jerked violently. The map slipped from his fingers, drifting lazily to the forest floor.
"What the -?!"
He spun around, one hand already reaching for one of his daggers.
"...Red Hair?" Recognition replaced alarm almost instantly. "What the hell are YOU doing here?"
Shanks barely heard him over the pounding of his own heartbeat.
"Don't do it!"
Buggy blinked. "...What?"
"Please." The single word came out rougher than Shanks intended. "Don't let the island take your memories."
For several long seconds, Buggy simply stared at him. Then he looked down at the map lying among the leaves. Then back at Shanks. "Have you finally drowned you last brain cell in rum?"
"I mean it!" The desperation in Shanks' voice made even him wince
"So do I!" Buggy threw both hands into the air. "What are you even talking about?"
"I know why you're here."
"You do?" For the first time since Shanks had burst into the clearing, genuine confusion crossed Buggy's face.
"Yes!"
"Then, please." Buggy gestured toward the forest around them. "I'd love to hear it."
Shanks took another step forward.
"I know you hate me." Buggy's expression froze. "I know I should have followed you back then." Another step. "I know I hurt you." His voice softened. "I know I can't undo any of it." Shanks swallowed hard. "And I know you'll probably never forgive me."
Buggy opened his mouth but nothing came out. Shanks mistook the silence for confirmation.
"But..." His voice nearly broke. "Please don't erase me." The words disappeared into the stillness of the forest.
Buggy didn't answer, simply stared.
"I can live with you hating me. "Shanks laughed once, bitterly, shaking his head. "I can live with you punching me." A tiny smile flickered across Buggy's face and Shanks felt a spike of relief . "I'd probably deserve it."
"It wouldn't be the first time," Buggy muttered automatically. A quiet laugh slipped from Shanks before fading just as quickly.
"I could even live with never hearing you call me your friend again." His gaze lingered on Buggy's face. For just a moment, he saw the apprentice who had once stood beside him aboard the Oro Jackson.
"I just..." Shanks looked away for a second before meeting Buggy's eyes again. "I can't bear the thought of becoming a memory you chose to throw away."
Buggy stared at him for several long seconds as the words hung between them. Then his eyebrows slowly drew together. "You're an idiot."
"...Buggy..."
"I came here because I borrowed a map." He pointed accusingly toward the paper lying forgotten on the ground. "A treasure map!"
"A treasure map?" Shanks blinked.
"YES!" Buggy threw his arms into the air in exasperation. "What else would I come here for?!"
Silence settled over the clearing once more. Buggy looked at Shanks. Shanks looked at the map. Neither of them spoke.
Very, very slowly the truth caught up with them both.
"You really thought I'd come all the way out here just to forget you?" Buggy folded his arms across his chest.
Shanks suddenly found the forest floor incredibly interesting. "Yes."
Buggy let out a long, theatrical sigh. "You are unbelievably stupid."
"I've been told."
"Repeatedly, I'd imagine."
Despite everything, a quiet laugh escaped Shanks. The sound seemed to catch Buggy off guard. For a brief moment, he simply stared at him. Shanks waited for the ridicule, to be laughed at, to have another insult thrown at him.
Instead, Buggy clicked his tongue and looked away. "I never hated you." A beat passed. "Not really."
Shanks blinked. "You've called me every insult under the sun."
"I still stand by most of them."
A smile tugged at Shanks' lips before he could stop it. Somehow, that answer felt strangely reassuring.
"I was angry." Buggy nudged a loose stone with the tip of his boot. Shanks didn't interrupt. "I was furious."
The stone bounced across the clearing. Buggy rubbed the back of his neck, clearly annoyed that the conversation had become this honest.
"But people don't spend their life yelling at someone they don't care about."
Shanks slowly looked up. Hope was a dangerous thing. He knew that. Yet it still stirred somewhere deep inside his chest.
Buggy noticed immediately.
"Oh, don't look so happy." He pointed a finger at Shanks as though trying to push that expression right back off his face. "This changes absolutely nothing."
The warmth in Shanks' chest faded almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Then Buggy rolled his eyes dramatically. "It changes almost nothing."
A laugh escaped Shanks. "I'll take 'almost.'"
Buggy crouched to retrieve the old treasure map, carefully brushing the dirt from its worn edges before rolling it up with far more care than the weathered parchment probably deserved.
"I don't know what happens after this."
"I don't either."
"And I'm not jumping straight into..." He gestured vaguely between them. "...whatever this is."
Shanks followed the motion.
"Whatever this is."
"Exactly."
Another pause. Long enough for Shanks to wonder if he'd already pushed too far. Then Buggy spoke again.
"I'll come find you."
Shanks looked up, unable to hide his surprise. "You will?"
"When I've decided whether you're worth another chance." The words should have stung. Instead, they felt like the greatest kindness Buggy had offered him in years.
"I'll wait."
"I know you will."
"And I'll probably suffer the entire time."
A crooked grin tugged at Buggy's lips. "Good."
He turned away, pretending to inspect the map again before Shanks could make sense of the fleeting softness that had crossed his face.
Shanks smiled to himself. For the first time since setting foot on the island, the weight pressing against Shanks' chest eased.
The forest no longer felt quite as cold. Somehow, even the silence had softened.
"I guess this is where we go our separate ways." Shanks smiled.
"For now," Buggy corrected. A surprisingly comfortable silence settled between them.
Finally, Buggy turned around with a dramatic sigh. "Alright. I'm going back to ..." He stopped.
"Buggy?"Shanks tilted his head.
"...my..." Buggy gestured vaguely behind himself. "...ship."
"Yes?"
"What was it called again?"
Shanks blinked. "What?"
"My ship." Another pause. "The one I arrived on. What's its name?"
For one glorious second, Shanks was absolutely convinced Buggy was joking. Then he noticed the genuine confusion on Buggy's face. "You're actually serious."
"I AM!" Buggy threw his arms into the air. "I know it's MY ship! And I know i named it. I even painted the damn thing! So why can't I remember the name?!"
Shanks bit the inside of his cheek. Don't laugh. Don't. Anything but that. His shoulders trembled. Buggy narrowed his eyes.
"Don't." Buggy hissed.
A snort escaped.
"Shanks!"
He tried. He really did. It lasted exactly three seconds. Then he burst into laughter. Loud and unrestrained. The kind of laughter that doubled him over and stole the air from his lungs.
Buggy stared at him in complete outrage. Shanks pointed helplessly toward the invisible coastline, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"I thought you were going to forget me," Another wheeze. "and instead you forgot the name of your own ship!"
"THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" Buggy marched over, grabbed Shanks by the front of his shirt and gave him an indignant shove. "Then tell me!"
"No." Shanks grinned.
"SHANKS!"
"It'll come back."
Buggy's eye twitched. "I hate you."
Shanks smiled. "No you don't." Not this time.
Buggy opened his mouth and Closed it again. Buggy shoved him one last time before turning toward the trees with an exaggerated groan. "YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD!"