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SHANKS

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[redforce]

( it's been a strange morning. he's felt simultaneously listless and ... in a strange way, relieved, to know that luffy is back where he belongs. or, at least, so they can only hope. but the lack of that warmth, the bright ray of sun in the back of his mind luffy usually occupies — it's a bit like sailing into a cold front and suddenly trembling under the chill.

shanks has spent years without that presence, of course, and would have continued to if something hadn't brought them here first; he imagines, more easily than the straw hats, that he'll grow accustomed to luffy's absence again. still, that doesn't mean that it doesn't ache, to not even be able to say goodbye this time.

he expects koby to reach out — both with words and without — so his usually well-hidden aura surges to meet the frenetic wave of koby's presence, the shadow of shanks' natural calm engulfing koby's rising panic, reassurances imparted through the steady beat of his heart and the heady weight of his own presence pushing back to say it's alright, i'm still here. )

It might be easier to swallow, coming from you.

( he's well aware how weird things have been, and they've only gotten weirder recently. )

Where are you now?

( as if he doesn't know. but it's less a question of where and more a question of why aren't you here. )

[kobes]

[There's a good effort to reel back in the fear, the panic -- Koby's gotten better and better at it over the past couple months, practicing almost constantly, to the point of exhaustion. But Shanks's aura, familiar, warm, steady, is nearly impossible to resist, prompting the anxiety to bleed out uncontrollably, throbbing like the too-quick beat of Koby's heart.

Still, he tries, he tries to focus, tries to shore up the barriers against the gutwrenching thought: the next time he sees Luffy, they'll be enemies again, they'll be on opposite sides of a war. If he ever sees him again.]

The gym. I need to
I'm halfway through a rep I'm all sweaty and gross I don't
I'll be a mess. I'm going to be a mess, when I let myself feel it.

[A warning: do you want that near you, are you sure, are you sure?]

[redforce]

( the next time shanks sees luffy ... well, it's hard to say when the next time will be. that much has been uncertain since the day shanks left the east blue. the luffy he's come to know now has only just begun his journey. one day, they'll see each other again at the end, a promise at last fulfilled. this much shanks knows.

but where luffy's path might cross with koby's ... shanks wouldn't be so cruel to whisper false hope into koby's ear, to tell him it will all work out in the end if he simply believes in luffy. because the truth is, the pieces are still being set, the players awaiting the time to make the first move.

so there isn't much comfort shanks can offer except what exists here, where the rules of their universe don't apply — where a pirate captain and a marine cadet can grieve together for something precious they've both lost: more time with someone neither one of them will see again as they are now.

too quickly, perhaps, dictating to his phone rather than wasting time typing it out: )

Koby, I don't care.
Come here.

( he doesn't have to say where. his aura is radiating through the manor like a beacon. )

[kobes]

[It's brief, to the point, a command that nullifies any negotiation or argument, and Koby's -- relieved to get it, so relieved it makes his head spin, nudges him firmly into the "following orders" reaction that doesn't require any actual energy or thought. He's been told to do something, he'll do it, he doesn't need to actually be present in his mind or body, he can drop what he's doing and obey -- walk right out of the gym, without responding, without saying anything.

The halls pass by in a dreamlike, fuzzy haze, like something on a screen, and though Koby knows logically he's walking, inhaling, exhaling, blinking, alive, he doesn't feel it. He feels very, very far away, and it's -- good, it's so good, it's safe and quiet and nowhere near the building panic and horror and fury at how unfair this is. How stupid he'd been, how stupid he still was, he should cut off everything, everything that makes him bleed and hurt and grieve, he should stay here where nothing can touch him, where he can't feel anything, because the second he looks Shanks in the eyes, it's all going to come rushing back like a tidal wave.

But still -- he goes. He doesn't knock, when he gets to Shanks's door -- he doesn't do anything, just stands there, vaguely aware of a distant ringing in his ears, aware that he's still wearing the sweaty, sleeveless shirt and snug-fitting pants he works out in, that his hair is loopy and curling with sweat, that he's out of breath. Why is he out of breath?

Ah. Because he's been holding it. Because it keeps bursting out of him in shaky, hitchy gasps, and that's dangerously close to feeling, so Koby just: shuts that right down. Turns it numb. Stands there staring at the closed door and waits.]