Chapter Text
Mihawk has a reputation amongst the parents at Kuraigana Daycare. He refuses to drop off or pick up his children in anything more informal than a three-piece suit. In the summer, he might lose the jacket, but he’ll strategically employ a wide-brimmed hat to add a certain flair to the event. He is the go-to resource for the best tutors, tennis coaches, and etiquette trainers in the city. He hosts a semi-annual gala at his home for the other families at Kuraigana Daycare, information about which is spread by word of mouth beginning with the parent of the child whom Mihawk deems the most exceptional of the bunch.
He does all of this for his own two children, who, without his intervention, would probably be kicked out of the most prestigious daycare in the region. One of his children is haughty and slightly unkind, though well-meaning. The other spends his free time stabbing erasers into tiny rubber bits with any sharp object he can find. Mihawk has made himself an integral member of the little community so that his children may also exist within it.
The other parents respect, maybe even fear him, and with this social currency, Mihawk sits comfortably at the top of the Kuraigana hierarchy.
“Mihawk.”
He nods at the woman approaching him outside the daycare. His mind spits out the following facts. Bell-mère. Two children. One of them Zoro’s age. Cheeky but clever, with a fine business acumen despite her young age. Should remain close acquaintances for Zoro’s sake.
“Bell-mère,” he nods.
“Surely you know,” she says breathlessly.
Mihawk blinks at her, disguising his confusion with a small cough.
“Don’t be coy,” she says, nudging him with her elbow, “The open spot? Garp told me it’s been filled.”
“Ah yes,” Mihawk says, “Well, even if I did know, I couldn’t possibly tell you.” He has no earthly idea what she is referring to, but he hopes his answer might make Bell-mère continue to assume that he does.
“I’m sure you’ll get the newest member of our merry band in line,” she says, punctuating her words with a hearty slap on his shoulder that nearly sends him flying. But before Mihawk can say anything further, the doors to the daycare opens and children of various shapes and sizes come pouring out. Mihawk steels him, looking among the masses of short limbs to find his two charges. He finds pink and knows that Perona will come to him. She is mostly reasonable.
He narrows his eyes when he cannot find green in the sea of normal hair color.
“Where’s your brother?” he sighs when Perona makes her way to him.
“Dunno,” she replies, “Probably in Mongolia by now.”
“What is the capital of Mongolia?”
“I’m 6,” is Perona’s response, “I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know the capital of Mongolia, how do you expect your classmates to respect you when you go to real school next year?” Mihawk will need to talk to Perona’s tutor.
Perona just rolls her eyes and plops down onto the ground to draw a ghost in her notebook. Mihawk will also need to consult her etiquette trainer.
He gives Zoro a few more minutes to appear before he gives up and heads into the daycare. The daycare classrooms are organized by animals, not military rank which would have been Mihawk’s preference. He knows Zoro is in the Lions classroom with the other 4-year-olds. He peers in the other rooms on his way, just in case, but is gratified to find his son sleeping on a desk in the jungle-themed room. (He has always hated the inaccuracy of jungle embellishments for panthera leo, but that is a fight he is still working on with the group of mafiosos known as the teachers of Kuraigana).
“Zoro,” he says quietly, and his son lifts his head up.
“Oh hi Mihawk,” he says.
“Do you wish to live forever in the daycare? That can be arranged,” Mihawk threatens.
“Nope,” Zoro replies. He grabs his lunchbox and his stick of the week and heads toward Mihawk.
“Bye Mr. Hawkie.”
Mihawk shoots a look toward the two other occupants of the classroom. He recognizes one of them. It is Garp’s grandson, who Mihawk is certain is allowed onto Kuraigana grounds only because his grandfather runs the daycare. The other… He frowns. He doesn’t recognize the other child. He should, given that she is Zoro’s classmate, and he keeps tabs on each of them.
She smiles pleasantly at him, giving him a delicate curtsy. Her hair is in an elaborate pigtail and curl structure, which shows care on the part of her parents. Half of it is red and half of it is white, which is unnecessarily flashy, but Mihawk supposes he shouldn’t throw stones in glass houses when he thinks about his own children’s preferred hair color.
“And who are you, miss?” he asks.
“My name is Uta, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she smiles, and Mihawk nearly takes a step back in shock at the manners on the child.
“Mihawk, at your service,” he replies, “May I inquire as to the whereabouts of your parents—”
“Uta~”
Mihawk turns at the sing-song bellow from behind him. A flash of red enters the classroom at great speed, and the man scoops up the girl in a hug, showering her with kisses. Mihawk purses his lip at the display of affection. Such acts will go to a child’s head. The man also picks up Luffy with one hand, twirling him around in a dangerous way as the lanky boy screams in joy.
“Oh, excuse me,” the man says, finally noticing Mihawk. He puts down the two children and approaches Mihawk with his hand extended. Mihawk shakes it gingerly. Up close, he sees stubble and a slash across the man’s eye, and the word “hooligan” immediately comes to his mind.
“Akagami Shanks,” he smiles.
“Dracule Mihawk,” Mihawk replies stiffly.
Shanks drops down and crouches by Zoro, who is staring at him with wide eyes.
“And you?”
“Zoro.”
“I like your sword,” Shanks says, pointing at the stick, and Mihawk groans internally, knowing that Shanks has acquired a follower for life.
Zoro holds out his stick and attempts a few stabbing motions. Shanks makes a show of clutching his heart and falling backwards, and Zoro laughs as Luffy and Uta leap onto Shanks, pummeling him with their fists, filling the room with giggles.
“Well, it has been a pleasure,” Mihawk says, grabbing Zoro by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him out of the classroom. He sees Shanks try to sit up and bid them goodbye, but hustles away before he can do so. So this is what Bell-mère had been referring to, Mihawk thinks viciously. This Shanks will have a lot of proving to do if he wishes to integrate properly into their “merry band.”
---
When Mihawk arrives at the daycare the next morning, there is already a gaggle of parents at the entrance. He dislikes this, priding himself in always being first. As he draws closer, he sees the tallest figure has red hair and immediately his day is ruined.
“Mihawk,” Banchina calls out to him. He puts on his most polite smile and walks toward them.
“Come meet Shanks,” she says.
“We’ve met,” Mihawk replies curtly.
“Oh, of course you have,” she nods, “He’s lovely, isn’t he?”
At this, Shanks turns toward them. Upon seeing Mihawk, his face breaks out into an even bigger smile, which Mihawk thinks he neither deserves nor wants.
“Sorry for rude introduction yesterday,” he says, joining them, “Was excited to see Uta after her big first day.”
“Understandable,” Mihawk nods.
“All these other lovely folks have been telling me I have to meet you. You seem to be a bit of a living legend. I’m a bit embarrassed I made such a strange first impression.”
He doesn’t look embarrassed at all, watching Mihawk with a slight smile on his face. He is making all the appropriate acknowledgments of Mihawk’s status, but there is something in the lazy confidence of the man’s bearing that puts Mihawk on his guard.
“Not at all,” Mihawk replies, “I hope you are adjusting well to your move to Kuraigana.” He nods his head and takes Zoro and Perona’s hands again to deliver them to their classrooms.
“I got a new stick,” Zoro announces, after they drop Perona off in the Monkeys classroom (which should be embellished with jungle décor but is simply banana themed).
“When did you pick that up?” Mihawk frowns. Zoro seems to spirit sticks out of the thin air.
“Outside,” Zoro shrugs, “Do you think Mr. Shanks will like it?”
A vein throbs in Mihawk’s forehead.
“Zoro,” he says evenly, “You are a bit young, but I’m willing to sign you up for kendo lessons if you’ll stop collecting woodland twigs.” Zoro’s face lights up at this offer. He drops the stick immediately and runs down the hallway, roaring at the top of his lungs before turning into the wrong classroom. Mihawk watches as the teacher picks Zoro up and carries him to the Lions and makes a quick escape.
---
As the days pass, Mihawk’s worst fears about Shanks are confirmed. The man has no respect for the proper order of things, committing multiple violation in the span of a week.
The first infraction is lunch. Mihawk prepares bentos for Zoro and Perona every morning, proper balanced meals of protein and vegetables, with a special treat on Fridays of fresh fruit if they’ve behaved themselves. Each of the bentos is packed neatly, arranged by color and texture.
Uta comes to school with a paper bag, filled to bursting. When Mihawk finally decides to ask Zoro what Uta had for lunch, he is met with a dizzying array of foods. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Pre-packaged apples and caramel. Gummy worms. Cheese crackers. It’s monstrous, and the look of jealousy on Zoro’s face makes Mihawk seethe.
“Early onset diabetes is not an affliction I wish to subject you to,” Mihawk tells Zoro.
“Uta says that she gets to decide her own lunches,” Zoro grumbles, pushing around a cherry tomato on his plate.
“Children should not be trusted to make their own nutrition decisions,” Mihawk replies. He thinks snidely to himself that Shanks is probably happy to give his daughter the entire Snacks aisle of a grocery store. It’s easier, catering to the whims of a child.
A few days later, Mihawk is surprised when Uta brings a bento box to school. When interrogated, Zoro tells him that the bento box has many things in it that didn’t look very nice, but Uta said was delicious. “She said she got jealous of my lunch and told her dad she wanted the same thing. Hey, Mihawk, I’m jealous of Uta’s old lunch. Can I have that instead?”
Mihawk ignores Zoro, still thinking about this sudden change in lunches.
The next morning, he sees Shanks during drop-off. His fingers are covered in bandages. Mihawk listens in as Shanks explains to another parent that he had been trying to cut carrots into flowers.
“Molds,” Mihawk says before he can stop himself, “Cut the carrots into strips. There are molds you can then use to press them into the desired shapes.”
He’s met with a grateful smile and finds himself imparting a few other nuggets of wisdom on bento preparation. It is for Uta’s sake, after all. The other parents take note, though Mihawk has never noticed any of them trying to replicate his proper lunches.
Mihawk decides that Shanks’ first infraction has been remedied, though there is plenty of room for improvement.
---
The second infraction is a late pickup. Mihawk prides himself in being the first to arrive for pick up and the last to leave after all the children have been collected. Today, after he has finally found his son, he hesitates before leaving, seeing Uta sitting on the curb by herself.
“Miss Uta,” he says quietly.
She looks up at him and smiles bravely.
“Hello sir,” she replies.
“Where is your father?”
“I’m not sure,” she says, looking back down. Mihawk sees her shoulders shaking. After a quick glance to ascertain that his children have not escaped, he sits down gingerly next to her.
“You don’t have to wait,” she says, “He’ll be here soon.”
“Well then, it is not an imposition for me to wait a little longer.”
“He’s never late,” Uta explains, “There is definitely a good reason.”
“Of course.”
“He always comes for me.”
“I understand.”
Uta’s bottom lip trembles, but she doesn’t cry. Exceptional. A model of composure rare for a 4-year-old.
“Maybe your mother… I can give her a call,” Mihawk says.
“I don’t have a mom,” Uta says, “I just have Pa.” Mihawk makes a quiet noise, one that he isn’t able to control.
“Then a family friend.”
“Pa will come,” Uta insists.
Mihawk looks forward, fairly certain that if he were ever late for pick-up, Perona would have walked to the nearest convenience store and bought everything in it out of pique. Zoro would… Zoro would probably end up in Mongolia.
After another few minutes, Mihawk is also beginning to worry. He has Child Protection Services on speed dial. Perhaps he should check with the daycare first as to Shanks’ contact information, but images of car accidents suddenly fill his mind.
Then, Uta perks up when the sound of an engine, a powerful one, approaches.
“He’s here,” she says, leaping up.
As Mihawk watches what he presumes to be Shank’s car approach, he prepares to explain in no uncertain terms that the daycare has rules for a reason, that being late in the first week is frowned upon, that— Mihawk freezes when he sees the look on Shanks’ face after the car comes to a screeching halt and he stumbles out. Frantic, scared, desperate. He runs toward Uta, wrapping her in his arms.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeats.
“It’s okay, Pa, it was just a little bit,” Uta responds, her voice muffled against his chest.
He picks her up and turns to Mihawk, who puts on his most reproving look. Mihawk is prepared for all manner of excuses. Traffic was bad. A meeting ran late.
Instead, Shanks bows his head, and looks up through his bangs at Mihawk. “Thank you for staying with her.”
“Of course,” Mihawk answers tightly, not sure what else to say.
“I keep showing you only my bad sides,” Shanks continues, voice full of self-reproach.
“Parenting… is difficult,” Mihawk says. He’s surprised at his own answer. He has chosen, over the past few years, never to acknowledge publicly that being a single parent has been the most difficult task he has ever put upon himself in his life. He prefers to assume a shroud of ease and flawlessness. And now, in front of this man who is late, he has given him an easy out.
“I’ll make this up to you somehow, darling,” Shanks says, carrying Uta away, the hand on her back large and comforting. Mihawk sees that, now that her father is here, Uta is crying. Not out of sadness or annoyance, but out of sheer relief and happiness.
“Why can’t you be more like that?” Perona asks, watching them walk away.
“Because that is not who I am,” Mihawk answers, with some frustration. He is fond of his children, but easy affection does not come easy for him. When he had decided to adopt children, it had been with a vague conception of legacy. He provides them with only the best, cares for them with the precision of a finely tuned watch. In turn, his children complain and throw tantrums, but they never… they never cry. Not in front of him. He wouldn’t know what to do if they did. Should he learn? When they grow older, they’ll deal with heartache and disappointment that he will not be able to prevent. What will he do when presented with tears and sorrow?
Perona doesn’t respond, simply takes his hand and walks toward his car. And Mihawk is grateful that she doesn’t press him, that she doesn’t turn the question of “why can’t you be more like that” onto him with more force.
---
The third infraction is a bit of a stretch, Mihawk can admit. But it is an infraction nonetheless. The issue is that Uta has a marvelous singing voice.
Mihawk hears it one day during pick-up. He enters the classroom and sees half the children and their parents crowded into the room, captivated by the little girl standing on one of the desks. Uta’s eyes are closed, full confidence in her pose as she sings with a range and a tone that would make Luciano Pavarotti weep. Mihawk sees Shanks, leaning against the teacher’s desk, a happy smile on his face as he watches his daughter.
When she finishes, she bows low, and Shanks helps her down from the desk. She is immediately surrounded by classmates, clamoring at her about the upcoming student showcase.
Mihawk makes a beeline for Shanks.
“Who was her previous voice coach?” he demands, “Is she currently working with anybody? I have a few recommendations in the area that I can provide if not.”
Shanks stares at him, then bursts into laughter.
“Uta has never had a voice coach,” he replies, “She just loves to sing.”
“With her talent, she could join the Vienna Operahouse at 15,” Mihawk says, “I know of a retired soprano who would teach her for free.”
Shanks shakes his head. “If that’s what Uta wants, she’ll get there eventually. But I don’t want to take away her joy by turning it into a job for her. She’s only 4.”
Mihawk grits his teeth, unable to understand Shank’s hesitation. Talent is a sharp weapon, but it needs to be directed, to be honed. He shudders at the thought of Uta’s going to waste. What if she picks up bad habits or turns to pop music.
It’s none of your business, he tells himself. What Shanks chooses to do or not to do with his child is no concern of yours. Just because the world is being deprived of a once in a millennium voice does not mean you should meddle. He turns away from Shanks to hide his disappointment. Uta is now leading the class in singing a nursery rhyme about tigers, harmonizing with the other students and elevating the simple song. Even Zoro is singing along, stumbling over the words. Mihawk has never heard him sing and is surprised to hear that he has a fine voice, clear and steady.
“They look happy,” Shanks says, interrupting Mihawk’s musing as to whether he could get his retired soprano acquaintance to teach Zoro for free.
Mihawk pauses, considering this. He looks at Zoro more closely and sees a bright smile on his face, a far cry from the surly looks Mihawk usually gets at home. He sways side to side, his tiny fingers clenching and unclenching at the hem of his shirt as he looks shyly at his classmates. He does look happy, Mihawk realizes. It’s not something that he often looks for. Contentment, certainly, he wants his children to be content. But joyful? Mihawk has always assumed that happiness is fleeting for a child and also cheap and can be bought by all manner of toys and food. But now, he sees his son, not swayed by the promise of a new sword-related shirt or rice for dinner, and yet basking completely in a moment of shared happiness.
“Huh,” is Mihawk’s less-than-eloquent response.
Shanks nudges him with an elbow. “Tell me about this retired singer. If Uta wants to learn in a few years, I’ll reach out to them.”
“I… I will tell you about them when she’s older,” Mihawk responds, still watching the group of children, who have now devolved into screams and playfighting.
---
“Uta wants me and Luff and curly and Sopp and the witch to come over to her house for a playdate,” Zoro explains to Mihawk one afternoon.
Mihawk squeezes the egg in his hand too hard, crushing it into mess of yolk and eggshells. His home is the preferred location for playdates amongst the Kuraigana Daycare community. If Shanks thinks he can usurp Mihawk’s role…
“Why don’t you invite them all here?” Mihawk asks.
“Uta says she has a huge jungle gym in her backyard,” Zoro replies, “Four different kinds of slides, and we can race down them on pool tubes.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Mihawk frowns.
“Shanks will be there,” Zoro shrugs.
“Mister Shanks. And that does not ease my worry. My answer is no.”
But Zoro persists, throwing a tantrum on the ground before, during, and after dinner. And so, Mihawk finds himself pulling up the directory of phone numbers from the daycare and calling Shanks.
His ears are immediately accosted by a loud whirring sound.
“Uta, please turn that off. Uta, Pa's on the phone. Uta!”
The noise quiets, and Mihawk hears a harried, “Hello, Akagami residence.”
“Akagami,” he says, “This is Mihawk.”
“Mihawk, hello. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“My son has told me he is invited to attend a playdate at your home.”
“Oh, he was? Uta probably said something without telling me. That’s fine with me though. What day? I’d be happy to host the kiddo.” Mihawk resists the urge to slam the phone down. He is not the one asking for the playdate. He settles with a glare at the wall.
“If you hadn’t intended to, my apologies. I was misinformed by my son—”
“No no, please, I would absolutely love to. I’ve just built a playset in the backyard.” Mihawk frowns at this. A home-made playset? Had it been built up to code? What sort of wood had Shanks used? Could he guarantee the structural integrity?
“I usually insist on attending my children’s playdates. I will make myself scarce nearby and won’t bother you at all,” Mihawk says, suddenly extremely paranoid about Zoro’s safety in an unsupervised space.
“Sure, come on over. How about tomorrow?” Shanks says, “I’ll get some beers and snacks.”
“That is not necessary,” Mihawk replies, “You won’t even know I’m there.”
“I insist. See you and Zoro tomorrow,” Shanks answers. The whirring noise starts again and Mihawk hangs up the phone.
---
Shanks’ home is small and chaotic. Mihawk, holding tightly to the leash attached to Zoro’s backpack, steps gingerly over toys strewn across the sidewalk leading to the front door. The front lawn looks like a particularly aggressive groundhog has taken up residence. Mihawk assumes that the bucket and shovel lying on the grass are the culprit.
He raps on the door, and it swings open immediately. Mihawk can already hear the sounds of multiple children somewhere, and Zoro is already tugging impatiently on his restraint. Shanks smiles at them, barefoot and dressed in a loose white shirt and black sweatpants.
“Do not be destructive,” Mihawk warns, helping Zoro take off his backpack. His son immediately sprints away toward the source of the noise like a bloodhound.
“Nothing much left that he can destroy,” Shanks says cheerfully. Mihawk looks around and notes that Shanks is correct. Every inch of white wall has been drawn on with crayon. Black skid marks, no doubt from riding a bicycle indoors, cover the cupboards in the kitchen. It’s a war zone.
“Drink?” Shanks asks, pulling out a few glasses.
“Just water would be fine, thank you,” Mihawk says, not wanting his reflexes and attention to stray from imbibing alcohol. He needs to be on his toes this afternoon.
He looks out and sees a huge backyard.
“Bought this place more for the property than the house,” Shanks says, noticing Mihawk’s attention. “Lots of woods for Uta to play in, have adventures.”
“There are both deer and dog ticks in this area,” Mihawk cautions, “I have had to uproot a poison oak tree near my home.”
“I check her for ticks when she gets back from her playing,” Shanks says, “The buggers aren’t too bad if you get them right away. And she’s learned what’s poison oak and ivy at this point. Once you pick up one of those nasty plants, you won’t do it again.” He laughs loudly.
How… laissez-faire.
Mihawk looks out the window again. By now, the children in the basement have escaped into the backyard, and Mihawk can see them clambering over the playset. It’s an impressive structure, though Mihawk will have to take a closer look later and check Zoro for splinters.
“It’s sanded down,” Shanks says, as if he can read Mihawk’s mind, “Don’t worry.”
“Are you a carpenter by trade?” Mihawk asks.
“Architect,” Shanks answers, “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to actually build something I’ve designed. Felt real nice. Wanna go see it?” Mihawk doesn’t particularly, but there is so much excitement in Shanks’ wide grin that Mihawk almost feels that it would be cruel to decline. He follows Shanks out the back door and down the porch steps.
“Pa,” Uta screams when he appears, “Watch me, watch me.”
“I’m watching,” Shanks calls back as she pumps her legs back and forth to gain momentum on a swing. She leaps off, flying high into the air, and Mihawk gasps. She lands lightly on her feet and raises her arms in the air like a gymnast.
“What are you doing, Mihawk?” Zoro asks skeptically. Mihawk realizes that his body stumbled forward in an attempt to catch Uta. He had been certain she was going to break her neck. He coughs and straightens himself up.
“Did you see?” Uta asks, running into Shanks’ arms.
“I did,” he smiles, holding her tight and winking at Mihawk.
“My turn,” Luffy says, but Mihawk grabs him by the collar. He is well-aware of Garp’s grandson’s abilities. The only thing the boy has going for him is the unbelievable ability to bounce back from injury, not to prevent it. Mihawk won’t be explaining to Garp why Luffy ended up with a broken arm under his care.
“Come check out the treehouse my dad made,” Uta says to him instead, and they all scamper away toward another, likely also unpermitted, structure.
“Let me show you a few fun things,” Shanks says, and Mihawk sees he is just as excited about the playset as the children are. Feeling like he’s de-aged several decades, Mihawk is dragged into tunnels and up spiral steps by Shanks, who points out various features with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever.
Mihawk, legs drawn up to his chest and feeling distinctly undignified as he sits in a small box, is forced to listen in on one end of a makeshift telephone system as Shanks talks into it from the other end of the playset.
“Uta and I pretend we’re pirates with this,” Shanks says.
“Pirates don’t use radios,” Mihawk responds, “Who would they be talking to? Marines? Enemy pirates?”
Shanks considers this, decides to brush it off, and moments later, Mihawk is being pulled to take a look at a small climbing wall.
By the time Shanks has finished introducing his creation to Mihawk, he feels like he has been at Shank’s home for an eternity. He checks his watch as discretely as he can and realizes it has been only 37 minutes.
His host is now sitting at the top of one of the slides, watching his daughter lead her classmates in a game of Red Light Green Light. He is still barefoot, toes curling up and wriggling in the sun. Mihawk stands formally next to him, feeling uncomfortably sweaty from all the unforeseen activity.
“Thanks for coming over,” Shanks says suddenly.
Mihawk blinks in surprise. “My… son can be a handful. I wouldn’t want him to have caused you any trouble.”
“He wouldn’t. Zoro is a good kid. Uta talks about him and her classmates all the time. I’m really glad she is getting along with them. I was worried, moving her so suddenly.”
“Was it for work?” Mihawk asks. He doesn’t usually inquire into the past of other families, mostly interested in occupation and job stability, but it feels polite to ask.
“Change of pace,” Shanks says, “I got tired of the types of houses I was designing. Everybody wanted the same cookie cutter homes, nothing fun or interesting. Hoped that coming out west would be better.”
“Is it?”
“Well, I haven’t gotten a gig yet, so hard to tell,” Shanks laughs. Mihawk is astounded by his comfort with being unemployed. He wonders how Shanks was able to secure a position at the prestigious Kuraigana Daycare.
“Garp’s an old friend,” Shanks says, and Mihawk again wonders if Shanks is able to read minds, “Very grateful to him for taking on Uta while I look for work.”
“If you would like, I can inquire amongst my contacts to see if any of them are interested in a redesign or expansion of any of their homes,” Mihawk offers. It wouldn’t do for a member of Kuraigana Daycare to not be gainfully employed.
“Would you?” Shanks asks, turning to him and giving him the full force of his thousand-watt smile. Mihawk looks away.
“I cannot guarantee anything.”
“That means a lot, really it does. I’m good at what I do, your friends won’t be disappointed.”
“You’ve practically built a fortified city in your own backyard,” Mihawk says dryly, pointing at the tower of the playset, “I can tell you are competent at structural design. I’m sure my son will be pestering me about this for the rest of his life.”
Shanks throws his head back and laughs. “Well, if you want me to build Zoro and Perona a playset too, I’ll do it for free.”
Mihawk is struck by the impracticality of a man without employment offering to work for free. He frowns, “If you do so, you should be compensated.”
“I’ll do it for cost of materials, how about that,” Shanks says.
“No… that’s not appropriate—”
“I don’t charge my friends,” Shanks says, a powerful finality to his tone. Mihawk glances at him out of the corner of his eye before quickly looking away. He had assumed Shanks was a pushover, both as a father and as a man. He thinks now about all the instances that have proved his first impression to be wrong. There is a quiet fortitude in the man that Mihawk did not expect.
“Barter then,” Mihawk says, “I can return the favor in lunches for Uta.”
“I’ll accept that,” Shanks laughs, “You know, Mihawk, I was cursing you for a week or so there when Uta told me that my bentos were ugly compared to Zoro’s. And then she showed me a picture, and now I’m just in awe.”
“It is the thought that counts,” Mihawk says primly. No one needs to know about the horrendous amount of time he spends cutting strips of seaweed for Perona’s tiny ghost shaped mini onigiri.
“Are you a chef?” Shanks asks.
Mihawk scrunches his nose. As much as he respects the profession and holds Chef Zeff in high regard, he could never spend his days slaving over a stove.
“Wealth manager,” he responds.
“Oh fancy,” Shanks says, his voice taking on a teasing tone.
“Indeed,” Mihawk replies, hoping that Shanks will drop the topic. He does not, continuing to press what a wealth manager actually does. Mihawk submits to the questioning, accompanied by unprompted stories of Shanks’ own work. It seems like the man has traveled all over the world, building fanciful homes for all types of people.
“Only settled down recently because of Uta,” Shanks says, “Dropped down by a stork on my front step.”
“You know that’s not how babies are born, Akagami,” Mihawk says, and Shanks guffaws.
“No, really, Mihawk, that’s what happened. Well, maybe not a stork. But I opened the door one morning and there was Uta, sitting in a treasure chest on my front step. Imagine my surprise when the bundle of blankets in it started crying.”
Mihawk stares at him. He had not expected this. Frankly, he doesn’t know what he had expected. He had tried for many weeks not to think much about Shanks at all.
“And you kept her.”
“Of course I kept her,” Shanks replies, “Tried to raise her right, but it was hard on the road. Lots of crying and stares. But we figured out a good rhythm eventually, me and that girl.”
Uta is doing cartwheels around Luffy, who is trying his best to copy her. Soon, all the children are trying to help Luffy do a handstand, and Mihawk can see his red face like a beacon from where he’s standing.
“It was… very good of you to take her in,” Mihawk says finally. It sounds flat and uncomfortable when he says it. Mihawk tries to avoid platitudes in the normal course, but he felt he needed to say something.
“Well, you did the same thing,” Shanks says, “Or at least, I’m assuming pinkie and greenie are not biologically yours.”
“They were the last remaining children in the first orphanage I visited. I should have known better,” Mihawk begins, but Shanks claps him on the back before he can continue.
“You look at those two with a lot of love. I’ve seen it. And I can tell that they know it too.”
“I am trying my best.”
Another platitude. What is happening to him today?
“That’s all we can do, at the end of the day,” Shanks says, slipping down the slide and landing in a mess of limbs at the bottom. The children see him and run over, sitting on various appendages as Shanks begs for help.
“I will stay out of this,” Mihawk says, then watches Shanks make a big show out of standing up, roaring as Luffy and Zoro cling onto his arms like leeches. He holds them up easily, muscles bulging, and Mihawk forces himself to look away.
---
After the playdate, Shanks appears to have decided that Mihawk is his new best friend. Over the next few weeks, he bounds up to him during pick up and drop off, asking after Zoro and Perona, showing him pictures of Uta that fill the camera roll on his phone. They have managed a casual rapport, one that Mihawk admits he is not not looking forward to every day.
“Took her to the doctor’s yesterday. She’s grown,” Shanks says gleefully.
“That’s what children do,” Mihawk answers.
“She’ll be taller than me soon.”
Mihawk looks at Shanks, who is very tall and broad. “Perhaps.”
Shanks waves for the final time at Uta as she disappears into the building, then gets slightly teary-eyed. Mihawk has the feeling that Shanks will never stop almost-crying whenever he says goodbye to his daughter.
“I have a potential client for you,” Mihawk says, hoping to nip the theatrics in the bud. At least that’s what he tells himself when Shanks whirls toward him. “I showed him some of your previous work, and he’s interested in speaking with you. He has eclectic taste.”
“Sounds like we’ll get along fine then.”
“I’ll send you his details via email when I return home,” Mihawk says, turning toward his car, “I suppose I will see you at pick-up. You can ask me any further questions then.”
“Let me treat you to breakfast,” Shanks says, “As a thank you.”
“That is unnecessary, I hardly did anything.”
“Please? Unless you’re busy, then maybe tomorrow?” Shanks asks.
Mihawk is not busy, and he can tell Shanks is persistent.
“Something quick, then,” he says. Shanks grins ear to ear and beckons toward the sidewalk.
“I know a good place nearby. The first few weeks, I would go there to job hunt and put in applications while Uta was in school. Worried that she would miss me and want me to pick her up. Turns out she never did.”
“Children are fickle in that way.”
Shanks brings Mihawk to a café called Partys Bar and slips toward the back, smiling at the woman at the counter. He starts an easy conversation with her, and Mihawk feels out of place in the homely establishment as he slides into the seat next to him.
“I’ll have the usual, Makino,” Shanks says, then shoves a menu toward Mihawk, which appears to cover every type of egg dish in the history of the world.
“Eggs Benedict for me, please, and a black coffee,” Mihawk says. Makino nods at him, smiles at Shanks, and then disappears to the back.
“Uta tells me that Zoro has started kendo lessons,” Shanks says, leaning against the bar and focusing all of his attention on Mihawk.
“I’ve also started him with fencing with a former Olympian,” Mihawk nods, “Though, the discipline from kendo might be good for him. We’ll see which he is more proficient at before we decide which to focus on.”
“Or which one he likes better,” Shanks winks.
“Zoro likes swords,” Mihawk says evenly, “The type has never seemed to concern him.”
“Tell me about Perona. I don’t get to hear enough about her since she’s older than Uta.”
“She is fussy, but bright. She appears to have an interest and proficiency for fashion design and has proved useful when it comes to choosing her brother’s clothes.” Shanks makes an approving sound. “Maybe she could tell me what to do for Uta. I feel insane when I look for clothes for her.”
“I will lend you Perona for a day, but she is very expensive and requires payment in advance in the form of ice cream.”
Shanks laughs, and Mihawk finds himself telling him more about his daughter. Despite his many flaws, Shanks is easy to talk to, the flow of the conversation proceeding naturally through breakfast and a few additional cups of coffee. By the time Mihawk checks his phone, he realizes they’ve been at Partys Bar for two hours.
“Thank you for the meal, and my apologies for having intruded on your hospitality for so long,” he says the next time Makino comes back with a carafe.
“Oh don’t worry, Shanks sometimes stays here the whole day. We’re never that busy. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mihawk,” she answers.
Mihawk frowns at this. “Have we… been acquainted previously? You know of me?”
Shanks makes a strange noise and flourishes his credit card in front of Makino, who giggles and takes it.
“Thank you for the meal as well, Akagami,” Mihawk says, “You truly did not have to.”
“Any time,” Shanks says, “Happy to do this any time.”
When Makino returns, Mihawk stacks his plate and cup neatly for her, and they depart the restaurant.
“See you at pick-up then,” Mihawk nods, pulling out his keys.
“Yup, see you,” Shanks waves, fiddling with his own keys awkwardly. Mihawk turns on his heel, but he is interrupted by Shanks clearing his throat.
“I— Uta was wondering if you’d all like to come over for dinner some time,” Shanks says, “I make a mean burger and onion rings.”
Mihawk considers this strange offer. He has done social calls with other parents at the daycare, but for the most part, he does not like to interrupt his peaceful evenings with dinner parties (except for his semi-annual gala). He opens his mouth, preparing to politely decline.
Shanks is biting his bottom lip, and Mihawk is struck by a sudden fit of insanity.
“Well, alright. I will note that Perona only eats A5 Wagyu, and Zoro appears to only want to eat most meat raw.” Shanks blinks, considering this, though his eyes are bright with excitement, and Mihawk continues to lose his mind when he says, “Why don’t you two just come to our home? I can better prepare a meal that will suit my children’s eccentric tastes.”
“I’ll… bring sides and drinks then?”
“If you insist,” Mihawk nods.
“What day works for you?” Shanks asks in an eager manner that makes Mihawk want to suggest today.
“I will need to find the appropriate beef cuts,” Mihawk says, “Let us plan for Wednesday.”
“Wednesday, great, on my calendar,” Shanks says, motioning writing on an imaginary notebook.
“You have a phone to use as a calendar,” Mihawk points out, though he feels the corner of his lips quirk up.
“See you at pick-up,” Shanks answer, giving him a goofy double thumbs up before bounding away.
Feeling like he might be slightly under the weather, Mihawk walks away, deciding he’ll visit Carne’s to see what cuts of meat he plans to have on Wednesday.
---
“You never invite my friends over for dinner,” Perona complains.
“Your friends are creepy,” Zoro says, looking up from swinging his training sword in the air.
“Uta is the only one of your friends that’s cool,” Perona glares back at him.
Zoro blows a raspberry at her, one that involves quite a lot of spittle. Perona storms away, throwing her hands in the air. As she stomps up to her room, Mihawk hears her yell, “I wish Uta were my sister, not you.”
“Well, I wish Uta was my sister, not you, too,” Zoro shouts back.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Mihawk whirls around to see Shanks standing at the open doorway with Uta in his arms.
“I’m sorry, the door was just open,” Shanks says. Mihawk sighs. Zoro had just come back from playing with Luffy and had a very loose sense of home security.
“Don’t worry Zoro, you can be my brother,” Uta announces.
“Perona,” Mihawk calls, and moments later, she comes stomping down the steps.
“Manners,” he cautions, and she greets Shanks with an exaggerated curtsy before grabbing Uta’s hand and pulling her into a hug, cooing about cute things.
“Anything I can do to help?” Shanks asks, holding out a cooler.
“I am finishing with the patties,” Mihawk answers, “We can transition to the backyard and the grill momentarily. Perona, show Mr. Shanks and Uta around. Zoro, you too, put the sword down.”
He listens to the sound of their guests moving through the house, accompanied by oohs and aahs from Uta as Perona no doubt gives them an excellent, slightly overembellished tour of Mihawk’s 19th century painting collection. He finishes the patties, placing them on a tray and heads to the backyard to get the charcoal grill started.
“This is where I keep my Venus Flytraps,” Mihawk hears Perona say, and then they all exit into the backyard.
Shanks joins Mihawk by the grill.
“Quite a home,” Shanks says. Perona begins instructing Uta how to play croquet, while Zoro stabs at the air next to Perona’s head with a mallet.
“It reminds me of the Rokko Housing out in Kobe,” Shanks continues, looking back at the exterior of the home with an appreciative look.
“It was designed by a disciple of Ando Tadao,” Mihawk acknowledges, surprised at Shanks’ eye for contemporary Japanese design.
“Ah, that makes sense then.” Shanks turns to him and smile, “Oh, thank you, by the way, I’m going to be designing your friend Crocodile’s summer home.”
“Not a friend, an acquaintance,” Mihawk says quickly.
“Seems like you and him go back a long ways.”
“That does not make us friends.”
“Are we friends?” Shanks laughs.
Mihawk starts the grill and gives him a look.
“Are we friends?” Shanks repeats, a slight hesitation in his voice.
“I have never had Crocodile over for dinner,” Mihawk says, by way of an answer, refusing to look at Shanks as he checks the temperature of the grill with his hand over the coals.
“That’s a start,” Shanks laughs, and Mihawk is glad to be distracted by the task of grilling, turning all of his attention to making sure each patty has the perfect lattice of grill marks. The sound of the oil from the high quality beef dripping onto the coals quickly draws the children to him. When the first patty is finished, he makes a burger, cuts it roughly into thirds, and hands it to Perona to share.
“Yours,” he says, handing the other to Shanks before starting the next two.
“I’ll wait for you,” Shanks says.
“No, you’ll eat,” Mihawk replies, brandishing his spatula at Shanks, “While it’s hot. That is the most expensive burger you will have in your life, and I will not have you waiting while it moves further and further away from peak condition.”
Shanks takes a huge bite, chewing thoughtfully, his mouth covered in oil and sauce. Mihawk waits.
“I guess it’s just as good as mine,” Shanks says finally, winking at Mihawk, who briefly contemplates throwing Shanks out of his house and would have if he weren’t certain Shanks had just had the best bite of his life. Shanks quickly polishes off the rest of the burger and watches eagerly as Mihawk continues grilling.
---
When they’ve finished all of the burgers and made a significant dent on Shanks’ sides (Mihawk admits that Shanks does make very good onion rings, as well as potato salad and creamed corn), they relax on Mihawk’s outdoor armchairs while the children resume playing on Mihawk’s neat grass.
“How do you do it?” Shanks sighs, “Your backyard looks like it came straight out of catalogue.”
“Hiring a gardening service helps,” Mihawk answers.
“Ah,” Shanks replies, lifting his beer bottle in the air as a toast to Mihawk’s gardeners.
Mihawk leans back, content and full, and looks up at the sky. It’s a beautiful mix of red, purple, gold as the sun sets. Uta has started singing, a lilting lullaby accompanied by the sound of cicadas in the trees. Mihawk closes his eyes, and for a very brief moment, the thought of “what if this were every night” flashes through his brain.
His eyes open quickly, and he feels a horrid heat rising on his face. He sneaks a glance at Shanks, whose eyes are gratefully closed, face set into a happy smile.
They sit in peace for a long time, interrupted occasionally by a question from Shanks about something he saw in Mihawk’s house or by one of the children asking for more dessert. Soon, it’s too dark for them to play outside, and Zoro looks like he’s about to fall asleep clutching his sword to his chest.
“We’ll get out of your hair now,” Shanks says, scooping a similarly sleepy looking Uta into his arms. “Thank you for having us over, Mihawk.”
Mihawk nods, as Perona takes Zoro’s hand to stand at attention next to him.
“Safe drive home,” he says, walking them to the front door.
“Bye Zoro and Perona,” Shanks says, his gaze lingering for a second longer on Mihawk than propriety would normally allow, then disappears into the night.
“I don’t want them to go,” Zoro pouts, “Can they stay with us?”
“They can’t, silly,” Perona answers, “Only family can stay overnight.”
“They can’t have a sleepover with us?”
“Just Uta can, because she’s a kid. But Mister Shanks can’t, because he’s a grown-up.”
Mihawk is happy that he raised her with good sense, but a strange disappointment settles over him.
“Go to bed,” he tells them, beginning to clean up the kitchen, “You have daycare tomorrow. Good night, sleep well.”
They drag themselves upstairs, and Mihawk does more dishes than he’s used to, wondering when the last time was that he had such an enjoyable evening.
---
When Mihawk arrives for pick-up a few days later, the entire daycare is full of Uta’s screams.
He stops, watching in shock as Uta pummels her father on the chest.
“What in the world is happening?” he asks a nearby parent.
“Uta says she has to go stay with her uncle for a week, and she doesn’t want to because then she can’t come to daycare.”
“Darling, please,” Shanks begs as Uta melts into a puddle on the floor. He looks up, eyes frightfully sad, and sees Mihawk.
“Another bad parenting moment,” Shanks says softly to him.
“Nonsense. I need to get to the bottom of this. What is the occasion for her going to her uncle’s?” Mihawk asks.
“The Crocodile job has a tight deadline,” Shanks replies, voice wracked with guilt, “I’ll be working long hours this week to finish the plans and the surveys and get the permitting ready, and… she usually doesn’t mind going to her uncle’s. Benn’s good to her.”
“I hate Uncle Benn. He’s smelly and scary,” Uta screams, “I want to stay here.”
“You love Uncle Benn,” Shanks says, shocked, “He would be so sad to hear that.”
“I love Uncle Benn, I’m sorry Uncle Benn,” Uta sobs, “But I don’t want to go.” She weeps into Shanks’ shoulder.
“The student showcase is on Friday,” Mihawk reminds Shanks.
“I know, I know, I feel horrible,” Shanks replies, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up. Mihawk can see rings of exhaustion around his eyes. He makes a decision, one that he feels will alter his very DNA.
“Uta,” Mihawk says, crouching down next to her, “Would you like to stay with Zoro and Perona for the week?”
She stops crying immediately, looking up at him with huge watery eyes.
“Mihawk—” Shanks begins.
Mihawk holds up a hand. “It is just as easy for me to take three children to daycare as it is to take two. The student showcase revolves around Uta’s singing. To pull her out of it so suddenly would be a travesty for the arts program of the daycare. What do you think, Uta?”
She nods, wiping her eyes and saluting. “I would be very grateful, Mister Mihawk.”
“That’s my line, kiddo,” Shanks sighs, plopping down on the ground. Uta, having forgiven her father, curls up into a ball on his lap. Shanks looks up at Mihawk, gratitude in his eyes.
“You’re saving me, Mihawk.”
“I will record the student showcase as well. I can share a copy of it with you, so that you will not miss her performance,” Mihawk says before Shanks can continue with needless thanks. “When will you be dropping her off?”
“Tonight, if that’s okay,” Shanks says, “I can show you her evening routine.”
Mihawk nods. Feeling unmoored, he marches out of the classroom, Zoro close behind. He’s growing soft in his old age, he decides. He will need to practice some discipline himself so as not to fall prey to other parents calling in favors as well.
---
Shanks arrives with two suitcases, packed full of clothing, toys, and snacks.
“You did not need to bring your entire home here,” Mihawk says.
“Uta can’t live without these things,” Shanks replies, slightly harried as he lugs them to Mihawk’s guest bedroom. He goes through each of the items, explaining one by one what Uta needs.
“I have taken care of children before,” Mihawk reminds him.
“Sorry, I just, I hate leaving her,” Shanks says, frustration written on his face.
“She will be in good hands here.”
“I know.” Shanks gives Mihawk a small smile. “Really, thank you very much. I’ll take Zoro and Perona off your hands any time you want, even if it’s just to have a quiet night for yourself. You can call me any time if anything comes up—”
“Nothing will come up,” Mihawk says. He pushes Shanks out of the room and realizes that Shanks runs hot, his back like a furnace on Mihawk’s cold fingers.
He averts his eyes when Shanks and Uta exchange a tearful goodbye (mostly tearful on Shank’s part). When he finally leaves, Mihawk gives Perona access to his video streaming services and retires to his office as the three of them begin watching an animated show about horses.
---
Uta turns out to be a perfect guest. She is neat and tidy, very gracious with her manners, and fills the entire house with song. Mihawk briefly contemplates asking Shanks for a trade of one of his own children. Either one would be fine.
Then, one evening, he is minding his own business in the living room, reading the latest on vineyard investing and up and coming stocks, and Uta wanders in.
She sees him and proceeds to climb onto his lap.
Mihawk freezes. This is an unknown situation for him.
“Can I… help you?”
“What are you reading, Mister Mihawk?” she asks, peering at his newspaper.
“Business Daily and the Tokyo Stock Exchange News,” he replies, still flabbergasted. She wriggles, settling into a more comfortable position, all bony elbows and knees. The weight is strangely comforting, so Mihawk does not eject her, trying to focus back on the stocks to watch column. A moment later, Zoro wanders in as well. He sees Uta and stares, gaze flickering between her and Mihawk. His beady little eyes narrow.
“Oof,” Mihawk coughs, when Zoro launches himself onto his lap as well, curling by his side now that Uta has broken the initial barricade. Mihawk glares at him. Zoro looks evenly back. He is smaller than Uta, but more compact. Mihawk decides to ignore what feels like his entering the twilight zone and turns to Panasonic/Matsushita’s recent woes.
After a while, both children fall asleep. Mihawk tries to adjust Zoro, who feels like a hot water bottle wedged against his side. Zoro grips onto his designer shirt tightly, wrinkling it, and Mihawk gives up.
“Oh my god.”
He looks up to see Perona standing at the doorway. She scampers away and returns with a camera.
“Put that away,” Mihawk warns, but he is too late. Perona takes a photo and runs away giggling.
Mihawk squeezes the bridge of his nose, puts down his newspaper, and gathers Uta and Zoro into his arms to tuck into bed.
---
By the time the student showcase comes around, the photo of Mihawk with Uta and Zoro has made its rounds at Kuraigana Daycare. Perona, despite being six years old and not knowing the capital of Mongolia, knows how to upload and print a photograph. She brought it to her classmates and gave it to her teacher, who shared it with others and eventually with parents.
“She looks so peaceful in your arms,” Olvia exclaims after sitting down in the front row next to him.
“I do not wish to discuss the photograph,” Mihawk replies, fiddling with his camera and checking to make sure the angle is right to capture the entire stage.
“It’s very good of you to take such wonderful care of Uta while Shanks is gone,” she continues, “I had no idea you offered your services as a babysitter.”
“I don’t,” Mihawk says curtly.
“Ah, but Shanks and Uta are the exception.” He turns to her, someone he greatly respects for her academic achievements, and finds he has no response. She gives him a knowing look. He snaps his mouth shut and glares at the stage, hoping they’ll start the blasted showcase on time for once.
It turns out to be one of the better showcases, primarily because of Uta, who holds the rest of her classmates together like glue. She is a natural onstage, and Mihawk again toys with the idea of introducing her as soon as possible to his retired soprano acquaintance, maybe behind Shanks’ back.
After the showcase, he goes backstage to find his wards.
“Mister Mihawk,” Uta yells when she sees him, “Were you watching me?”
“I was,” he nods. She smiles and begins running, and Mihawk knows by now that he will have to brace himself. She jumps up, and he catches her. Shanks has spoiled her, constantly carrying her around. Mihawk hefts her more comfortably into an arm and looks around for Zoro, suspecting that both children are close to falling asleep.
(Art that inspired this fic by the perfect Thi)
He finds Zoro already asleep behind the prop of a tree that he carried around all evening.
“Zoro,” Mihawk says, poking at him with a shoe, “Time to go home.”
His son yawns and pulls himself up by grabbing onto Mihawk’s pant leg. Mihawk frowns at this. Being around Uta has taught Zoro and Perona that they can be more touchy with him than they used to be. Zoro proceeds to wrap his arms around Mihawk’s legs and fall asleep standing, drooling on his black slacks.
Mihawk sighs, looking up at the ceiling for patience.
“Mihawk?”
He turns at the familiar voice and sees Shanks standing behind them. In a horrible cliché, his heart leaps into his throat. He swallows it back down, lecturing it to stay in place and stop beating so hard.
“I missed it,” Shanks says, “I tried so hard to make it.” His voice is haggard, a week-old beard on his face of fine red hair, but he smiles at Mihawk, charming and handsome as usual.
“I recorded it,” Mihawk answers, “I’ll share it with you once I’ve done some minimal editing.” He nods at Uta, now asleep on his shoulder, “Take her if you’re here.”
“She looks comfortable,” Shanks replies, making his way toward them. Instead of taking Uta, he bends down and picks Zoro up, tossing him onto his back.
“A trade, at least until we get to the cars,” Shanks says, dark brown eyes watching Mihawk and Uta with a tender fondness.
“How was the job?” Mihawk asks.
“Great, Crocodile seemed pleased with the finished design. We’ll start breaking ground as soon as the permits clear.”
“Congratulations.”
“I was able to do it because of you,” Shanks replies.
“An exaggeration.”
“I would have been too worried about Uta otherwise. But I knew you’d take the best care of her.”
Mihawk scoffs. “I’m afraid your confidence is misplaced. I’m not a replacement for you. I’m cold and strict and–”
“She looks happy,” Shanks says, “Children are clever. Uta wouldn’t throw herself at someone she doesn’t know would catch her. Ask my friend Monster. She runs away from him screaming.”
“His name is Monster,” Mihawk points out.
“She likes you a lot, Mihawk,” Shanks says quietly. He waits for Mihawk to unlock the car door and puts Zoro in his car seat in the back, tucking him in with incredible care. Mihawk holds Uta out to him, and Shanks finally takes her. For some reason, Mihawk decides to walk with them over to Shanks’ car. He stands there, watching Shanks depositing a yawning Uta into the backseat. She hasn’t quite realized that Shanks is back, falling asleep again in her car seat. Shanks closes the door and turns to him.
For some reason, Mihawk feels slightly breathless as he looks at Shanks.
“Thank you, Mihawk,” Shanks says, taking a miniscule step forward, watching Mihawk carefully. Mihawk doesn’t move, his eyes flicking to Shanks’ lips and then to his eyes. And then suddenly Shanks is leaning forward, face centimeters away from Mihawk’s.
Mihawk puts a hand between their faces, his hand landing on Shanks’ mouth. Shanks immediately backs away, horror on his face as he lifts his hands in mea culpa.
“I am hosting a gala in two weeks,” Mihawk says before Shanks can say anything, “I would like you to attend.”
“O-of course,” Shanks says, horror now replaced by confusion.
“And, if you would be interested, I would like to have breakfast with you tomorrow morning, so that you may fill me in on how your job went and so I can let you know the various skills your daughter learned while under my care.”
“Sure,” Shanks says, a tight sound, as if he’s too nervous to draw breath.
“And, if you would be further interested, I know of a few good babysitters we may call upon so that we can have an uninterrupted evening for dinner. Just the two of us,” Mihawk continues, barreling ahead to something he does not know how to plan for.
“I would like that,” Shanks nods.
“It is… on my calendar then,” Mihawk says stiffly. Embarrassment floods his body. He feels like a teenager again, with all the racing heart, tight chest nonsense.
“Hey,” Shanks says, a smile again on his face as he steps back into Mihawk’s space, “Just to be clear. You’re asking me on a date, right?”
“Perhaps.”
“No, Mihawk, not perhaps,” Shanks says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks, so I’d like to know if that’s what’s happening.”
“It is,” Mihawk replies.
“Good,” Shanks nods, and he swoops in to plant a chaste kiss on Mihawk’s cheek. He retreats, a flush on his own cheeks, and steps into his car.
“See you tomorrow for drop-off,” he says when he rolls down the car window.
“See you then,” Mihawk answers, rooted to the spot in shock. When Shanks drives away, he touches his cheek, chastising himself for acting like a blushing virgin. He shakily gets into his car, staring at the dash for a moment before starting it.
If he hums to himself while driving home, giddy with happiness, no one is there to bear witness, Zoro snoring up a storm in the back.
When Perona sees him walk through the front door, she asks, “What is going on with you?”
“You should be in bed,” Mihawk replies, “Or did you lock Kuma in a closet again?”
“You need to get a smarter babysitter,” Perona replies, skipping up the stairs to her room with such an unrepentant air that Mihawk is frankly impressed.
---
Half a year later
“Zoro,” Mihawk calls, “Zoro, you’re going to be late.”
“I got him, I got him.” Shanks comes around the hallway, wrestling a wriggling Zoro into his kendo uniform.
“Honestly, I told you to get him ready half an hour ago,” Mihawk glares.
“We were playing pirates. Lost track of time,” Shanks laughs, leaving a sloppy kiss on Mihawk’s cheek before stumbling toward the car. “I can take him today. I’m not busy. Uta wants you and Perona to watch her practice for the winter student showcase. For some reason, she cares more about your opinion than mine, little twerp.”
Mihawk watches them go, then walks through the living room, picking up toys and scattered socks as he goes. Since Shanks and Uta moved in, his house has become… more chaotic. But, after an initial adjustment period, Mihawk realizes that he doesn’t mind. Perhaps he even enjoys it.
“Look at me,” Uta calls when he exits onto the back porch. She is hanging upside-down on the monkey bars of the huge and sprawling playset that Shanks built. Perona is with her, combing the hair of a Corpse Bride doll that Shanks got her for her birthday.
“I’m watching, Uta,” Mihawk says, fighting back a smile. She plops down to the ground and scampers up a nearby stair until she stands at the top of the playset on a makeshift stage. Picking up a toy microphone, she raises her arm in the air, listening for the imaginary crowd. Then she begins.
We can choose the way of our future
Try a brand new path, we can change the world
We can change the world