Silk and Sails (Shanks x OC)

The First Thread

The soft hum of the bar's low chatter and clinking glasses wrapped around me like a familiar lullaby. But tonight, even this haven of calm couldn't quiet the electric tension crackling through Gartel Island. The scent of charred wood and lingering smoke clung to the air, a reminder of today's audacious rebellion—Bartolomeo's handiwork. The burning of the Red Hair Pirates' flag and its brazen replacement with the Straw Hats' emblem was the talk of every corner.

Chaos was inevitable, and everyone knew it. The Red Force would come, and with them, a storm no one could outrun.

I drummed my fingers against the counter, waiting for Orian to slide my drink over. He moved with the sluggish grace of someone too tired to care about the world falling apart outside his door. His red bandana was askew, his beard wilder than usual, but his gruff voice carried the same weary edge.

"Rough night?" he asked, his eyes scanning me as if the weight of the island's unease might be written on my face.

I snorted, shaking my head. "You could say that. Nothing like a town on edge to make the day drag. It's been stiff shoulders and fake smiles since morning." I paused as he slid my drink to me, lifting it in a mock toast. "Here's to the calm before the inevitable storm, right?"

He grunted in agreement, disappearing to tend to another customer. I let the warmth of the drink spread through me, grounding me. For a moment, I let the bar's serenity soothe me, ignoring the turmoil outside.

But my thoughts didn't stray far. The shop had been quiet today, too quiet. Even Mina, my bright, ambitious apprentice, had lost her spark. Normally, she'd be sketching designs in a frenzy or teasing me for my chain-smoking habits. Today, though, she'd barely spoken, her eyes fixed on the shop door as if expecting trouble to walk in at any moment.

And trouble did come—but not the kind we'd feared.

The next morning, my routine blurred together in the quiet confines of my small apartment just above the shop. I moved to the door, already ajar, and found Mina standing there, tripping over her words in a frantic string of apologies. Before her stood a woman-a difficult client with an air of superiority-who seemed hell-bent on perfecting an illusion of youth long gone. Each time Mina announced her measurements, the woman's scowl deepened as if by sheer will she could convince herself her waistline hadn't budged in over fifty years.

I pulled a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it and letting its bitter smoke drift between us. Neither Mina nor the woman noticed me at first, but the ridiculousness of the scene was too much. I let out a loud, amused chuckle, drawing the woman's gaze like a hook. Her vanity, her fear of time's touch-why was everyone so afraid of aging? To me, every line, every curve was a map of one's life, a testament to all we've faced and endured.

"You should just leave," I said, a smirk playing on my lips, words falling out between chuckles. "No amount of re-measuring is going to shrink you into that dress."

She flushed crimson, her mouth twisting into a series of furious insults, all sharp but empty.

"Listen," I replied, not missing a beat, "this is my shop. If you don't like the way we do things, then go somewhere else. It's not this young girl's fault, and it's certainly not mine, that you want to squeeze yourself into a dress two sizes too small. Maybe consider a jog or two if you're so dead-set on it, yeah?"

She glared daggers at me, muttering curses as she pushed past, deliberately bumping my shoulder on her way out. Just before she disappeared, I called after her, loud enough for a few passing strangers to take notice.

"Be sure to let everyone know just how 'disrespectful' we are to rude customers like yourself!"

As the door swung shut, I turned back to Mina, only to have her fling herself into my arms, her eyes welling up with tears. "Thank you, Reina! You really saved me. You're like an angel... but maybe, um, tone it down a bit?"

I let out a quiet chuckle at her comment, offering a comforting squeeze to her shoulders before slipping behind the counter. It was time to focus.

Mina trailed behind me, her steps slow and hesitant as she fidgeted with a crumpled list of supplies. The usual spark in her movements was missing, replaced by a distracted air that immediately caught my attention.

I leaned over the cluttered desk, shuffling through a sea of half-finished sketches and discarded drabbles, each one a fragment of an idea I'd either forgotten or abandoned. Without looking up, I asked casually, "Any trouble brewing around town?"

The question hung in the air like a loaded pistol.

Mina froze mid-step, her fingers tightening around the paper. That pause—the kind that signaled she was deciding whether or not to share something—made me lift my gaze. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she fiddled with the edge of the list as if buying time.

"Well..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not trouble exactly. But I heard that the Yonko—you know, the one protecting this island—got wind of what happened yesterday."

I straightened in my chair, my curiosity piqued. "Go on."

She hesitated, glancing toward the shop door as if someone might burst in at any second. "Word is, he's on his way. To deal with Bartolomeo and his crew."

A slow, deliberate smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned back, the chair creaking under me. "Now that's interesting," I said, my tone dripping with amusement. "This island's been far too quiet for my liking." 

Mina's eyes widened, her worry written across every line of her face. "Reina! Don't say that! People's lives could be in danger!"

Her voice wavered, and for a moment, the weight of her concern threatened to dampen the electric thrill humming in my chest. But I wasn't about to let her fear smother the excitement of the storm brewing on Gartel Island.

I leaned back in my chair, tipping it just enough to flirt with gravity, and waved a dismissive hand. "Danger? From those clowns? Please. Yesterday's pirates were nothing but a pack of fanboys. If they're a threat, then I'm the Queen of the Grand Line."

Her brows knitted together, her fidgeting more frantic now. "But Reina, this isn't a joke! If the Yonko gets involved—"

I cut her off with a sharp laugh, leaning forward suddenly and letting my chair slam back onto all four legs. The sound echoed in the quiet shop, making her flinch. "If the Yonko gets involved, Mina, it'll be over before it begins. They're not coming for us—they're coming for the fools who picked the wrong flag to burn. So relax."

Mina opened her mouth to protest but stopped, her gaze drifting as if she were grappling with some unspoken fear.

I let the silence linger for a beat before snapping my fingers, breaking her trance. "Enough doom and gloom! Tick-tock, Mina. The customers will be storming in soon, and we've got a shop to run."

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a tight line, before thrusting the crumpled list toward me with a pointed glare. "You're the one who asked!"

I snatched the list with a dramatic flourish, grinning as I met her glare with a playful spark in my eyes. "And you're the one who's going to get to work, aren't you?"

Her expression softened, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Damn right," I said, tossing the list onto the desk without a second glance. "Now let's get moving. The world doesn't stop turning just because some amateurs decided to play pirate."

As Mina turned to gather supplies, her footsteps a little lighter now, I couldn't shake the thrill of what was coming. This island wasn't just on the verge of chaos—it was on the edge of something extraordinary.

And I was ready for it.