The Pirate And The Ghost (Part 2)

Hongo's breath hitched as he suddenly became the subject of everyone's attention. "I swear she was dead," he said, desperation creeping into his voice as he looked at the disbelieving faces. "For the love of god! The kid was stiff when we moved her."

Looks were exchanged before a sly grin formed on Yassop's face. "Holy shit! Hongo, we nearly buried her alive. You looked so professional back then. For once, I thought you were the real deal." Aah, his crew was quick to smell the blood in the water.

Lucky Roux snorted. "Couldn't fool me."

"Wait, he's not a real doctor?" asked a newer crewmate.

"Who knows. He stumbled onto the ship one day, drunk as a skunk, and refused to leave," Beck responded, his voice rusty from years of smoking. "By the time he sobered up, we had crossed into the Grand Line, and he's been stuck with us ever since." His words were met with snickers from the rest of the crew.

Hongo frowned. The method of his recruitment had always been a sore spot. "You bunch of ungrateful cretins. That's not exactly what happened."

Shank tuned out the banter and leaped into the grave, landing right by her side. The child immediately recoiled to the other end of the grave.

"Hey, sorry."

His smile faltered.

The kid's thin limbs trembled violently, little hands clenched tightly into the soil. But her eyes, oh, they were staring defiantly at him. The first time they met, Luffy had that look too. Shank's heart softened. Whatever words he wanted to say were lost in the moment. Slowly backing away, he hummed a sea shanty, hoping the melody would fill the narrow earthy space and bring calm. His crew was quick to catch up, dispersing back into the camp without a word. 

The sun was at its zenith when she finally blinked. Her breath fell into the same rhythm as his. 

"Wh–,aat. So–ng," her voice cracked, as if she had long forgotten how to use it.

"It's called Bink Sake. Do you like it?" he asked. She nodded sluggishly, looking so weak he was afraid she was going to fall flat on her face. His stomach twisted. Better to get her to Hongo, fast.

"It's my late captain's favorite song," he said, and life before Roger's execution returned in memories of laughter, clumsy dances, and gathering around bonfires. Shank sighed, rose to his full height, and held up his hand.

"Place is kinda cramped. Wanna get out of here?"

Everything felt okay and weird at the same time.

Okay, because she had been rescued.

Weird because—

For a start, the red-haired stranger was a weirdo who wore a black, high-collared cape. A cape! On a tropical island, no less. And black, that's just asking for heatstroke. But, hey, at least he wasn't ugly. His abs were ripped enough to make Toji cry in jealousy. As he lifted her off the ground, she noticed he only had one arm, and suddenly, the cape made sense. The camp and the people lounging idly within it, however, were a different story. It felt like she had stepped straight into the Pirates of the Caribbean movie set, minus the camera crew.

Ann refolded the wet rag to find a cooler spot, then held it against her swollen forehead. Her eyes darted wildly as she took in her surroundings. They even had a ship. Not just a prop, but a proper three-mast ship anchored nearby. The sheer attention to detail seemed like overkill for a cosplay club. Or was it a historical battle reenactment? She'd seen something like that on TikTok. Some people had weird hobbies to escape from their soul-sucking jobs.

Speaking of weird hobbies, it was about time someone called an ambulance, police, or maybe even the coast guard.

"Come on, kid, let me have a look. You could have a concussion," the 'doctor' said, almost pleadingly. She scooted away and shook her head, her gaze lingering over the jagged scar slashing across his left forehead.

Wow, even the scar looked real.

"Those fools were just messing around. I'm a certified doctor, graduated top of my class from one of the finest medical schools in the world."

Laughter erupted from the men clustered beneath what remained of the charred rainbow-colored parasol. The doctor's jaw tightened before he snapped, "Shut it! or I won't be treating rashes in weird places anymore." Instantly, the men fell silent.

He tossed the stethoscope carelessly and breathed out, "At least answer my questions. Do you feel pain anywhere? Any headache or nausea? You haven't said a single word. Are you mute?" He looked concerned and made some movements with his hands, "Deaf?"

"Stop harassing the kid."

An obese man stepped in, using his massive frame to effortlessly knock the doctor from his perch on the wooden crate and claim the seat for himself.

"Name's Lucky Roux. I'm the cook," he announced, his voice booming with warmth. "And the grumpy one here is Hongo. Don't mind him, he's serious all the time," he added. A tray of food was placed on her lap. "You must be starving. Eat, eat. You need all the energy to get better," he urged with a guilty look.

Why did he look guilty? They'd only just met.

The question left her mind when her eyes landed on the tray. The bowl was filled with chunks of blue meat floating in thick gray, lumpy fluid. She suppressed a gag, suddenly more wary of their food than the people.

Shank straightened up from his beach chair as he saw Hongo heading towards them. "Well?" he blurted.

"No thanks to you guys, Ann thinks I'm a quack," Hongo muttered. The soft snickers from the group immediately died under the weight of his stare. "But the kid is eating, so maybe she's in good health. And—"

"And what?" asked Shank sharply.

"She wants us to contact the police."

"That ain't happening. The next town is one week away. How did she get here?" Beck inquired.

"Kid was on vacation with her friends and teacher. Their boat got caught up in a whirlpool. She washed up on the beach and crawled up into the cave."

"Vacation?" Beck took the final drag from his cigarette, releasing his thoughts into the tendrils of smoke that danced before him. While the cluster of islands was certainly a paradise, nobody was insane enough to even sail their ship close to this part of the sea. It's too rough, even for seasoned New World crews. His eyes drifted to Shank.

Well, except for a certain fool. He wanted a party island. And so, they had established a few islands within their territory for precisely that purpose – places to drink until they were pissed drunk, and to unwind without interruption from overeager rookies. He snuffed out his cigarette. "What do you think?"

Shank remained silent, his gaze fixed on something far away. Sometimes Beck wondered how far into the future Shank could really see.

"She's okay," he finally replied. 

His words got Yassop to stop fiddling with his gun, "No offense, but let's not forget about the vengeful intent. I nearly peed my pants! And I don't ever feel like peeing in my pants when you use Haki, Shank. Kid is cute, but she could have devil fruit power."

"That's the sign your age is catching up," Lucky Roux suddenly interjected, startling everyone. "If someone tried to bury me alive, I'd probably walk out of my grave like that too. She's not a Devil Fruit user. I gave her friendship bracelets. Nothing happened."

All eyes underneath the parasol were drawn to her wrists, where thick, oversized, dark gray cuffs rested. Leave it to Lucky Roux to cut a seastone handcuff into two separate pieces and call it a friendship bracelet.

"Good thinking, it saved us from dunking the kid into the sea," praised Beck, and Lucky Roux preened.

Shank popped open his third bottle of wine. Beck raised his eyebrows, exchanging a knowing look with Yassop. He's really planning to get wasted. Which meant one of them had to remain sober and make sure he didn't do anything stupid. Again.

"The little girl is alive, and we don't have to hold a funeral. This calls for a celebration!" Shank raised a toast to Ann's unexpected survival.

"To Ann! Everyone, drink up!"