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Chapter Text

SHANKS

Coruscant was beautiful at this time of night—airspeeders crossing in perfect harmony overhead, the consistent stream of upbeat electronic music from the lower levels, and the gorgeous neon lighting that Shanks loved to bask in.

The lower levels had their downsides, of course. Crime was rampant this low on the metropolitan planet even before the Galactic Empire took over but it wasn’t anything Shanks couldn’t handle whenever he visited. He didn’t pass through often, anyway. He only came to pick up items or supplies for his next missions, knowing Coruscant was diverse enough for one to get most of whatever they needed.

Before the Empire rose to power just the week before, Shanks had built up quite the career as a pirate. He’d become rather famous in the underworld, even getting popular enough to be offered jobs by the likes of the Hutt Cartel or the Pyke Syndicate, the more formidable criminal empires. He didn’t want to take any of them up on their offers but money was money. With the Republic falling, so did the Republic credit, which meant most of the money Shanks had accumulated until one week ago was now completely worthless in most Empire-controlled planets. At least in the Outer Rim, it still had some value, but not much more than the Mid and Inner Rims and Core Worlds. Shanks needed the credits to take care of his crew, so he was now on Coruscant picking up supplies before the Red Hair Pirates went on a spice pickup for the Hutts. They’d pay a hefty amount of Imperial credits which would be enough for some new weaponry.

Regular piracy had Shanks’s heart. He liked the thrill of capturing a political starship and robbing them blind, knowing he’d leave that star system with at least another 5,000 credits on his head.

The last time he’d checked all his active bounties, his highest was on Coruscant—a whopping 30,000 credits. Pirates didn’t use to have such high bounties when the Republic still ruled over the galaxy—they had bigger problems like fighting the Separatists, funding clone troopers, and discriminating against droids. Now that the Empire was here, Shanks wasn’t sure how much higher they’d push his bounty, or if they’d scrap it altogether to focus on the Jedi.

The Jedi—just a week ago, the same day the Empire was established, the Jedi were announced as traitors to the Republic and a massive bounty was out for any rogue Jedi one could turn in. They had bounties starting at 30,000 credits for established Jedi like the young or non-famous ones. The popular ones—the ones that were the frontrunners in the Republic versus Separatist war—went for twice or more if they were still alive.

Shanks wondered what the Jedi did. They fought the fascists and beat them, so why did it seem like the fascists still won?

Shanks pushed the thoughts away and ran over the list of items to pick up once more on the datapad Beckman handed him. The other pirates in his crew had assembled most of what he’d sent them out to obtain—compensation from a politician who owed them credits; several crates of meiloorun to negotiate with someone on Lothal; an assortment of Coruscant’s finest drinks; new artillery from a partnering arms dealer; and some more medical supplies.

“We’re good to go, Shanks,” Beckman said from behind him. “Everyone reported their tasks as complete.”

“Good. Let me double-check.” Shanks looked over the various crates containing the items he’d tasked his men with collecting, all assembled in front of their ship—a beautiful YT-2400 Freighter painted red, gold, and black. They were restocked on medical supplies, artillery, food, and drink now, they finally got back the money they were owed, but there was something missing—

“Why’s there missing meiloorun?” Shanks questioned, staring at the crate where some fruit had obviously been taken off the top. “That vendor on Lothal wants a certain amount. We need it to negotiate with him for that ‘Holocron’ he said he had.”

“Lucky Roux said he got the right number, and I saw him set the crate down,” Beckman said, equally unsure why the crate was empty. “I’ll go check with him.”

“Wait.” Shanks held up a finger, listening intently. Distantly, he could hear blaster shots and the sounds of trooper boots marching in perfect unison. Airspeeders zooming overhead, starships landing or departing in the distance. Music. Laughter. Someone chewing very loudly. “Someone stole the fruit.”

Beckman glanced around, not hearing what Shanks was. “I think that’s apparent, but...”

Shanks whirled towards the sound, the gangway of his ship, and saw a small silhouette hiding under it. Squinting at the dark ground, he could now see small droplets that would be left by someone ravenously eating the meiloorun. Shanks approached slowly, careful not to scare off whatever was hiding there.

Closer now, Shanks could see a small girl in large robes, munching on the meiloorun like she was starving. Sensing Shanks there, the kid looked up with wide, startled eyes. She looked like a human-Theelin hybrid with little horns along her temples and speckles over her skin. Her skin was light, and the horns, speckles and hair were different colours based on which side of her body they were on—on the left, white, and on the right, red. Her eyes were a vibrant purple.

Shanks held out his hand placatingly, trying to keep the girl around long enough to figure out who she was. “Wait. I won’t hurt you. Settle down.”

The girl looked a little scrawny and couldn’t be older than fifteen. The large robes hid most of her body, but Shanks could see her wrists and pale skin—skin that was probably not supposed to be so pale, which meant she might be sick.

Shanks slowly knelt beside the gangway, putting himself on equal footing with the child. “What’s your name?”

The girl swallowed a mouthful of fruit before mumbling, “Uta.”

“Uta. Alright.” Shanks nodded. “Why did you steal our fruit? We really needed that.”

“I was hungry.”

Shanks gestured to the meiloorun juice trickling down Uta’s hands, smiling slightly to comfort her. “I can tell. The thing is, we needed that for something important. Don’t you have parents to feed you? An adult?”

“My master got killed,” Uta answered.

Master, Shanks pondered. “Are you a slave? Did you run away from your owner?”

“No.”

“Alright, then what do you mean by master?”

Uta folded in on herself. “I can’t tell you. It’s not safe.”

Talking to kids... Shanks had almost forgotten how carefully one had to navigate conversations with them to get the information they wanted. He had a feeling he knew what she meant if she was so reluctant to give him a straight answer, but he wanted verbal confirmation before deciding how to proceed. “Fine, then. New question. Who killed your master?”

“The clones.”

The clone troopers. Shanks put two and two together—well, now it was obvious. The robes, her ‘master’... Uta was a Jedi Padawan. He nodded and held his hand out to her. “Uta, come with me.”

She shrunk back. “Where are you taking me?”

“Well, you’re wanted by the Empire. That's 25,000 credits at least,” Shanks told her patiently. “I think you’re safer away from where the Empire is stationed, right?”

Uta nodded slightly, hesitantly taking Shanks’s hand. He guided her out from under his ship, careful to keep her shrouded under her cloak, and brought her over to Beckman. “Beck, get the girl on board.”

Beckman stared at her, frowning. “Who’s this?”

“A Padawan,” Shanks whispered. “We’re taking her off Coruscant. Maybe we’ll find another surviving Jedi to take her—”

“Captain, we’re leaving Coruscant’s borders with newly-illegal weaponry,” Beckman reminded. “I’m not saying I don’t want to help her, but how do you plan on smuggling her out with all that?”

“We’ll figure it out! I can’t leave her to die here,” Shanks insisted, lightly urging Uta towards Beckman. “Find a compartment or something on board for her to hide in until we leave the sector. Don’t argue with me again, she’s coming with us.”

Beckman didn’t continue pushing the matter, just taking Uta’s hand to lead her up the Red Force’s gangway. Shanks considered the compromised box of meiloorun and figured he could get the remainder elsewhere.

He shouted at Yasopp, “We’re leaving! Move all this onboard and tell Building Snake to prepare for takeoff.”

“Got it, Captain,” Yasopp replied, parroting the orders to the other crew members. They started moving the supplies onto the ship as Shanks kept watch, feeling tense. He couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was going to happen.

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MIHAWK

Mihawk watched the top levels of Coruscant go dark as the sun descended, and the lower levels began coming to life. If he strained his ears, he could almost hear the music thrumming below even from how high up he was. He could feel the vibrations through his boots, just barely, if he paid close enough attention.

A week ago, Mihawk had been captured by the Empire—not by mistake. He never let anyone get the upper hand on him, but he was curious about what the Empire wanted from him.

Mihawk had been cornered by his clone platoon while fighting on Felucia, but his clone captain had orders to take him alive. As he sat in the Star Destroyer on the way back to Coruscant, Mihawk knew he was right never to trust those damn clone troopers from the start. He was especially sure of his choice when one of them messed up and killed another Jedi months ago while muttering nonsense about how “good soldiers follow orders”. No, Mihawk trusted the clones about as far as a Jedi youngling could Force-throw a rock, which was not an impressive estimation. He fought alongside them in the Clone Wars but that was the extent of his relationship with his platoon. He knew other Jedi kept good camaraderie with their platoons, but he didn’t care for it. He’d protect them in battle, as per his obligation and to defend his side of the war, but that was it. He didn’t owe them more.

Mihawk hated the Clone Wars. He hated that he spent so much time fighting these boring droids. He hated how the Jedi Council kept trying to stick him with a Padawan. Mihawk repeatedly rejected the notion of accepting an apprentice. He had enough problems with the war and wasn’t eager to babysit on top of that. Still, they kept insisting, and Mihawk continued pretending not to receive their transmissions. Mihawk made them stay with the ship if they sent a kid out. It was for their safety. Why must a child fight in the war? Never mind the baffling number of kids around fifteen years of age participating in the war—Mihawk wouldn't add one more.

His isolationist nature didn’t make Mihawk very likeable among the Jedi, his only redeeming quality being how he was the best of them. His lightsaber skills surpassed even those on the Council and extraordinary lightsaber wielders back from the High Republic era. No one in the galaxy could best him in lightsaber combat, and it made everyone in the Republic tolerate his manners (or lack thereof) out of respect or fear. The only reason he wasn’t on the Council was that he didn’t want the responsibility of the title.

Perhaps the reason why Mihawk found it so difficult to get along with the Jedi was his heritage as a Mandalorian. Their people have had a long-lasting enmity beaten into a “friendly” rivalry after the Jedi defeated his people many years ago. Mihawk had been brought into the fold as a Jedi learner later in life than most other apprentices—too strong in the Force for the Jedi to risk him falling onto the wrong path, but too old to mould into their ideologies. Like the rest of the Mandalorian people, he was stubborn, had a knack for any combat style, and butted heads with Jedi.

It wasn’t so difficult to accept the offer to join the Empire and hunt Jedi when the Grand Inquisitor Sengoku presented it to him. Mihawk wasn’t that interested in hunting them down but his high rank as an Inquisitor meant he would not only be left alone, but he could help protect the people he truly cared about—other Mandalorians.

In the last months of the Clone Wars, the Mandalorian system had been through a lot. He tried to help where he could but ultimately the planet, while successfully pushing out the terrorist organisation Death Watch, had quickly been usurped under Imperial watch. At least with his rank, he would know if they have plans to take action against the Mandalorians and could step in. The Jedi unfortunately lacked in being his priority. It was only a matter of timing—had there been a branch in the Republic to hunt Imperials, Mihawk would’ve been the first to jump at the opportunity.

His datapad beeped and Mihawk looked down at his latest assignment to hunt a Jedi. Luckily for him, the target was last spotted at the landing zone on Coruscant for visiting ships. If he left now, he could catch the Jedi.

He slipped his helmet on—black with red and white detailing like the rest of his Imperial-issue Inquisitor armour and with a red glowing visor—and secured his new lightsaber to his back clasp, leaving his quarters.

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SHANKS

“Ready?” Shanks called out.

“Ready, Captain,” Limejuice told him. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“It’s night and we’re carrying illegal cargo. There’s no better time than now to slip past tired customs officers,” Shanks reasoned. “Go, get on board, we’re—”

Shanks cut himself off, shoving Lime Juice towards the ship as he whirled around.

“Observant.”

Shanks watched as a dark figure descended from a roof—using the Force to levitate—and gently landed on the floor, his boots not making even the slightest sound. Shanks recognised that visor pattern—this man was a Mandalorian, complete with a sleek black helmet and a red glowing visor. His whole armour set and uniform were various black and red tones, with some minor white detailing here and there.

He’d heard of people like this. An Inquisitor—Imperial-appointed Force-sensitive agents who hunted down Jedi for the Empire. He’d never seen one in person before, especially not one who was a Mandalorian. They were known for being master combatants, able to counter Jedi even without Force abilities.

“If the Jedi comes with me, there won’t be any problems,” the Inquisitor drawled as though bored.

“The girl is in my charge,” Shanks refuted, reaching for his sword—forged from beskar that he’d stolen from some Mandalorians several years ago, Shanks had it made in case he crossed paths with a lightsaber wielder. “If you hunt her, you quarrel with me.”

“Fine.” The Inquisitor reached for the circular lightsaber hilt attached to his back armour, igniting it to reveal two red blades of light, one extending from each side. “Have it your way.”

Shanks revealed his sword and nodded at Beckman on the gangway. Beck would know what to do—keep the kid safe. He turned back to the Inquisitor who lunged at him, slamming his lightsaber against his sword. Shanks shrunk back slightly from the sheer force of the hit, not having expected his fighting style to be so aggressive. He should’ve expected it—a Mandalorian and a Jedi make for a dangerous combination, especially in one person.

Shanks kept up with the Inquisitor, clashing blades together as he tried to keep him away from the ship. He just needed to hold his opponent off until Building Snake prepared the ship for takeoff, and then he could hop onboard and leave. He wasn’t prepared for such intense combat today and with Uta’s life at risk, he didn’t want to push his luck.

“Just surrender,” the Inquisitor said, his voice filtered through his helmet. “This doesn’t have to be difficult.”

“No,” Shanks replied, pulling everything Roger taught him back to the forefront of his mind. He deployed every swordplay tactic he remembered but the Inquisitor matched him on every turn. It was frustrating how good he was at combat. Surely, not every Inquisitor had this much prowess? Just his luck to get one of, if not the best one, after him.

“You’re really hunting a child?” Shanks asked, trying to implore the Inquisitor’s gentle side—if he had one. “She has so much to live for!”

“I’m hunting a Jedi,” The Inquisitor replied, drawing back his lightsaber before unleashing a barrage of slashes at Shanks. He stepped back, eyes wide with shock as he tried to defend himself against the hits. He narrowly succeeded and knew he had to get off Coruscant as soon as possible. The Inquisitor didn’t seem to have brought a ship along, so as long as they get out of the Coruscanti system, they’ll have time to think of a plan to evade him.

The Inquisitor reached a hand out towards the Red Force, dragging it down back to the ground as it began lifting off. The Red Force struggled, its engines fighting for liberation from the Inquisitor’s Force hold. Shanks charged at the Inquisitor, slashing at his helmet.

Distracted, the Inquisitor released the ship to defend his helmet from Shanks. One of the things Shanks can count on a Mandalorian for is their protectiveness over their precious beskar armour.

With the Inquisitor no longer holding back the ship, it resumed taking off. Shanks landed more hits to the Inquisitor, though they didn’t do much damage against the beskar, and then quickly ran to the Red Force. Howling Gab and Bonk Punch stood at the end of the still-open gangway, arms extended to catch Shanks. He leapt at it, able to latch onto the gangway’s edge. Punch and Gab helped him get up and when Shanks checked the ground, the Inquisitor was no longer in sight.

“Go, get to the atmosphere!” Shanks shouted as he ran towards the cockpit where Building Snake was steering the ship. “Set coordinates for Corellia!”

“Setting coordinates!” Snake affirmed, keying them in from the navicomputer.

“Where’s the girl?” Shanks questioned loudly.

“Hiding in a storage room,” Beckman answered. “Hongo’s with her.”

Everyone jolted in place as something suddenly landed on the front window of the freighter. Shanks stared in horror as the Inquisitor appeared there, looking him in the eye—at least, his helmet was pointed directly at Shanks. The Inquisitor reached a hand out towards the steering wheel and controlled it with the Force, making the Red Force spin out of control.

“Snake, get it under control!” Shanks ordered, concerned about innocent civilians getting hit by their ship. Building Snake did his best to wrestle for control of the wheel from the Inquisitor who kept his creepy gaze fixed on Shanks. He could see sharp eyes hidden behind the red visor if he tried hard enough.

Suddenly, the freighter course-corrected, turning towards a clear path straight to the atmosphere, and the Inquisitor got knocked off. No, pretended to get knocked off. Shanks was sure there wasn’t nearly enough velocity to combat his Force abilities.

That was the least of his problems right now. Shanks slammed a hand down on the pilot’s seat and commanded, “Go, get up there and jump into hyperspace! Dank farrik, go already!”

Once they reached Coruscant’s atmosphere, Shanks pulled on the hyperdrive and the Red Force shot into hyperspace, disappearing into thin air.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks felt at ease when they landed on Corellia—his homeworld. Like most other people from this planet, he had an insatiable wanderlust for the galaxy. It was vast, full of thousands of worlds, some like Corellia and others, the polar opposite. In his 39 years of living, Shanks had barely scratched the surface of all those worlds. He hoped one day, no matter how daunting the task, he could see them all.

The crew disembarked from the Red Force once it descended upon its designated landing pad at Galley-La’s hangar. Shanks was long-time friends with the owner of the Galley-La Company, a human named Iceburg. He inherited the company from his adoptive father Tom who died years ago, and now runs it with his adoptive brother Franky and a few other employees in his charge.

Iceburg approached them as the gangway lowered, greeting, “Welcome back. Did your trip to Coruscant go well?”

“Depends. Can I get a quick routine check for my ship?” Shanks requested.

“Paulie! Routine check for the Red Force!” Iceburg called. The blonde man ran to them, strapping a utility belt around his waist. Paulie politely welcomed them back to Corellia before he started looking around, under, and inside the ship, muttering about the landing skids, power core, hyperdrive engines, turrets, and more.

While he ran the check, Iceburg said, “It’s unlike you to do a check for your ship after an errand run.”

“We have a problem,” Shanks said. He glanced around to ensure no prying ears before quietly saying, “An Inquisitor is after us. We found a Padawan.”

Iceburg’s eyes widened slightly and he too looked around. “Where are they?”

“Padawan’s on the ship,” Shanks said. “I don’t know where the Inquisitor is, but I guess it won’t be long until he finds us again. Even worse is he’s also a Mandalorian.”

Iceburg made a face like he understood why that was a big problem. Not only were they excellent killers, but they were also known for being great hunters. “Well, if you were thinking of asking me if I know where you can drop the Padawan off, I don’t know anyone like that on Corellia.”

“What about in other systems?” Shanks tried. “Maybe you know someone from the Mos Eisley spaceport or I could go back to Coruscant—”

“I’m sorry, Shanks. I haven’t heard of any suspicious ships or cargo since the Jedi were outlawed,” Iceburg said apologetically. “You might have better luck asking Big Mom.”

“Her?” Shanks baulked. “No way.”

Iceburg sighed, looking pointedly at the Red Force where Paulie was about halfway done with running his checkup while the Red Hair Pirates stood at the side watching. Uta and Beckman weren’t there, still inside the ship. Iceburg said, “Look, Shanks, it’s not as though you have many options. If anyone knows anything about finding people who should be dead, it’s her.”

Big Mom, Charlotte Linlin, was a big-time pirate and crime syndicate leader based on Corellia. She ran a huge gang that consisted either of hired henchmen or her children, both adoptive or biological. She sent her people out to rob or scrounge anything of value on Corellia, amassing a fortune from anything she could sell or repurpose. Of course, Corellia wasn’t exactly a luxury planet so she wasn’t unimaginably rich, but her real power lay in how she knew everyone. Iceburg was right—if anyone on Corellia would know where to take a surviving Padawan, it was her.

“I don’t want to, though,” Shanks complained.

Iceburg raised an eyebrow. “Do you owe her anything?”

“Maybe a crate of coaxium,” Shanks admitted, fidgeting with his belt buckle. Iceburg sighed again and Shanks quickly added, “Hey, come on. What if she tries to get one up over me and sells the Padawan to a slaver? I’m being careful.”

“I understand the caution,” Iceburg assured. “Do you have other options to find a Jedi, then?”

Before Shanks could answer, Paulie returned to their side with a bright grin as he reported, “I ran your routine check. No issues with the system or infrastructure, but I recommend getting your hull platings reinforced at some point. You’ve been in many dogfights, huh?”

“Quite a few,” Shanks replied. “You know a pirate’s life.”

“Well, other than that, nothing to worry about. We can have some guys clean the windows and polish her up for you,” Paulie offered. Now that business was done, Paulie eagerly turned to Iceburg and said, “Hey, Ice. Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?”

Iceburg obliviously replied, “Sure, I’m free. We can go to Coronet City and find something to eat.” With that, Iceburg walked away from them to sort out a quick cleaning for the ship and hull reinforcements.

Once he was gone, Shanks started laughing. “You haven’t asked him out yet?”

“You just saw me ask him out!” Paulie said defensively. “He’s kind of oblivious.”

“You could always just tell him directly, you know.”

“No, thanks,” Paulie said, face flushed as he retreated towards Franky.

Shanks laughed at him and returned to his first mate, nodding to the side to talk privately. Beckman followed his lead, leaving Uta with Hongo. Once they were alone, Shanks said, “Iceburg doesn’t know anyone who could help us. He suggested Big Mom, though.”

“Bad idea,” Beckman instantly disapproved.

“I know! It’s too risky to bring up Uta, but maybe we can pretend we’re getting into Jedi hunting. It’s not too crazy—the number of people hunting Force-sensitives and Jedi have risen since the Empire put out those bounties, and the bounties are no joke,” Shanks reasoned. “She knows everyone’s struggling to adjust to the new currency. Especially criminals—we can’t exactly just show up at Imperial centres and exchange our credits. Us wanting to pick up Jedi hunting jobs to stock up on credits probably isn’t too crazy for her to believe.”

Beckman couldn’t find it in him to argue Shanks’s plan. “That makes sense, but Big Mom isn’t trustworthy.”

“Yeah. That, and the fact that we still owe her that—”

“That coaxium,” Beckman sighed, running a hand over his face. “I remember.”

“So what do you think we should do?” Shanks asked. “I’m still hesitant to ask Big Mom even if we don’t think about the coaxium.”

Beckman frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he considered aloud, “I’m sure we could buy a crate of coaxium off someone here. We’re in the Outer Rim, some are less strict on the type of currency we use. It’s a planet that specialises in starships, someone has to have coaxium... But I agree the risk of dealing with Big Mom is too big. Every minute we stay on Corellia while we owe her something is already riskier than we can allow.”

Shanks groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. “Damn. Okay, our current plan: While waiting for Paulie’s guys to reinforce the hull plating, Hongo will watch Uta, Roux will find someone to sell the missing meiloorun we need to top off the crate, and you and I will try to find someone who knows anything about any Jedi.”

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MIHAWK

Mihawk took off his helmet and rested in the cockpit of his ship, a Lancer-class pursuit craft named the Coffin. He had an Imperial-issue starfighter—a Phi-class shuttle he named Yoru—but preferred using his Mandalorian ship. Despite its size, it required only a minimum of one pilot to operate which suited Mihawk just fine. Besides, he preferred the Coffin's armament more than his shuttle's.

The blue waves of hyperspace glided past him and if he looked hard enough, he could faintly see purrgil in the distance.

Mihawk set his helmet down, staring at it. Since becoming an Inquisitor, he hadn’t heard about the Mandalorians beyond the Empire expressing interest in their beskar, the coveted steel that could only be mined in the Mandalore sector that forged their iconic armour sets. It was not only blaster-proof but resistant to lightsaber blades too, making the Mandalorians formidable (former) enemies of the Jedi. It was no surprise that the Empire wanted it, but Mihawk would find any opportunity to sabotage any excursions to steal their beskar.

After many years of civil wars among the combat-loving Mandalorians, Mandalore had turned barren, leaving only one city capable of sustaining human life. Sundari was beautiful with its brutalist architecture. Mihawk hated the idea of seeing what the Empire would do to it.

He leaned forward to check the coordinates on his navicomputer once again. He’d set them for the Corellian sector, certain it would be a good lead to find the Jedi after the crew escaped him.

No, not escaped. Mihawk let them run. He wanted to see how exactly that red-haired captain planned to evade him. He didn’t get to deal with pirates often when the Jedi Order was still active but they were known for being incredibly notorious. Now that he was up against some, he wanted to know what they were capable of.

Shanks especially was interesting. Mihawk had heard a little about him, but much of his history was shrouded in mystery. He was curious to know more about this criminal...

He would reach Corellia any minute now. If he was right, then perhaps he could continue hunting the Jedi.

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SHANKS

After about two hours, Shanks was disappointed not to be able to learn anything more than a lead that was barely worth checking out, if not for it being his only lead. A Jedi resided on another planet and helped other Jedi and Force-sensitive people escape Imperial capture. The reason why Shanks didn’t think this lead was worth anything was because there was no actual proof that he was Force-sensitive.

Options were minimal, so Shanks reluctantly agreed with Beckman to go find the “Jedi”. His name was Galdino, and he had an apprentice named Marianne who would guide desperate Force-sensitive people to him. They were located on Daiyu, so Shanks wanted to check it out as soon as possible, confirm that the lead was worthless, and move on.

“Why are you so sure this guy isn’t the real deal, anyway?” Beckman questioned as they “borrowed” some speeder bikes to ride back to Galley-La’s hangar. “You’re not a pessimistic person.”

“I just don’t think someone on Corellia would know about him if he’s actually a Jedi. The Jedi are supposed to be covert right now,” Shanks replied, making a sharp turn with Beckman following him.

“I get that,” Beckman conceded. “But it’s better than no lead, right?”

“Maybe.”

Beckman countered, “If not this, what lead were you hoping to find?”

“I don’t know,” Shanks said, a little frustrated. It was true that he wasn’t sure what other lead would have been useful to follow, and he had no idea where to start looking for a safe place for Uta. He suddenly recalled, “Hey, what about the Lothalite who said he had a Holocron? Maybe it’ll be useful.”

They pulled their speeder bikes to a stop by Galley-La’s entrance and walked through the doorway. Beckman nodded and said, “That might be useful. Would you want to head to Lothal after Daiyu, then? We can check if Galdino is legit. If he’s not, we’ll go to Lothal and bargain for the Holocron with the meiloorun.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shanks said with a smile. Even if both leads didn’t feel very promising, it was better to have a path than none.

Once Paulie spotted them, he approached them and read off his datapad, “We polished the windows, cleaned some carbon scoring off, and reinforced the hull platings. Also, the guys all think of you as their favourite, so they threw in some free repairs for your fuel tank. A couple more hits to it and you’d have a fuel leak!”

“Thanks, Paulie,” Shanks said, grinning. “How much for it?”

“Ah, most of it was just cleaning. 15,000 credits will do the trick,” Paulie said. “Republic’s fine, Iceburg and I will exchange them at the Imperial Centre.”

“Beck, transfer the credits,” Shanks ordered, walking towards his ship where Uta and Hongo were sitting on the gangway chatting with Franky. Franky was showing her his various mods like weapons that could emerge from his arms.

“Hey, kid,” Shanks greeted Uta. “Sorry, I was away all day. How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Uta assured. “Franky was showing me his mods.”

“She likes them!” Franky said with a grin, flexing as the mods retreated back into his arm and the plating folded back in place to make it look like an ordinary if shiny arm.

“The Inquisitor’s here!” Shanks shouted, pulling Uta to her feet and urging her into the Red Force. “Snake, prepare for takeoff! Limejuice, set coordinates for Daiyu!”

“You don’t want to fight?” Lucky Roux questioned. “Our ship’s at peak performance now.”

“I’m not destroying Iceburg’s hangar, we’re leaving!” Shanks pointed out. Beckman finished transferring the credits to Paulie and ran towards the Red Force’s rising gangway. The wind from takeoff whipped through Shanks’s hair, waving it wildly across his face as he looked up at the pursuit craft. He could faintly see the Inquisitor inside, once again staring directly at him.

“Hey, hurry up!” Shanks shouted.

“Exiting the hangar!” Building Snake replied from the cockpit.

Shanks squinted at the starfighter, trying to figure out if he could shake him off somehow.

“Captain!” Bonk Punch shouted. “Incoming transmission from ‘The Coffin’!”

The Coffin. That had to be the Inquisitor’s ship. Shanks made a beeline for the cockpit and ordered, “Put him through.”

A few seconds later, a hologram of the Inquisitor appeared in front of them. He was wearing his helmet like before. Without waiting for Shanks or his crew mates to say something, the Inquisitor said, “Red Hair Pirates, this doesn’t have to be so difficult. If you surrender the Jedi, I will leave the rest of you be. If you don’t, however... Feel free to choose the option. I’ll still catch you, it only depends on how long it takes me, and I can be very patient.”

Even with the helmet, Shanks swore he could practically see the Inquisitor smile. He continued, “Captain Shanks... running can only take you so far when the galaxy is so vast and stamina is so finite. Do you know why they made me their first Inquisitor?”

Fine, Shanks will bite. “Why?”

“Because before I was a Jedi, I was a Mandalorian. When we walk into a room, all hunters turn into our prey,” the Inquisitor said. His next words were directed at the whole crew. “It doesn’t matter how skilled you are. Your Jedi will come with me. The Jedi are dead, and I am a coffin that hunts dead men.”

The hologram cut out as the Inquisitor ended the transmission, and Shanks shouted, “Get to the atmosphere and jump, go!” Building Snake did so, shooting the Red Force into hyperspace.

Once the blue light filled the cockpit, Shanks collapsed in one of the seats. His crew turned to him and Yasopp asked, “What do we do?”

“We’ll do what we decided. Check Daiyu first—if the ‘Jedi’ checks out, we let Uta go with him,” Shanks said. “If he doesn’t, we check the Holocron from Lothal. If it doesn’t, we may have to take Uta in and protect her ourselves.”

“We’re wanted criminals! She can’t be any safer with us than with someone else!” Bonk Punch pointed out. Monster, his Kowakian monkey lizard pet, crawled over his shoulder as he squawked his agreement.

“We don’t have a choice, I’m not leaving that girl with someone I don’t trust can take care of her! She’s just a kid. I don’t want that Inquisitor to get to her. If nobody else can keep her safe except us, then it’s our responsibility,” Shanks insisted. “Look, Daiyu first, Lothal next, and then we debate our options.”

“And if the Inquisitor catches up with us?” Beckman asked.

Shanks replied, “Leave him to me, alright? I have the beskar sword. If he finds us again, the priority is to take off.”

“You can’t keep running from him!” Building Snake insisted. “He’ll just keep following us. We should kill him before he kills us!”

“We’re not prepared to! Look, a Jedi is a formidable opponent as is. A Mandalorian is equally dangerous. Someone who’s both? We need better equipment than we currently have,” Shanks reasoned. “Most of the armament we bought are for dogfights—useless against him unless we’re fighting in our ships—or just blasters, which are useless as long as he has his armour on. We need to find beskar or some other metal that can put us on par with him in close combat. Lightsaber-resistant materials, and weapons that can target the parts of him that aren’t protected by armour.”

“I’ll start looking for anything of that kind,” Yasopp said, leaving the cockpit to research on his datapad. He was in charge of obtaining weaponry, so Shanks hoped he could find something to counter the master combat skills of a Mandalorian Jedi.

He turned to the remaining crew members in the cockpit and said, “Someone run back the transmission recording. See if you can work through his voice modulator and find a match in any voice databases. There has to be a match for cadence; accent; or something. Anything. I want to know who that Inquisitor is. It’s our only way of finding out how to defeat him.”

Chapter Text

UTA

Uta breathed slowly, consciously drawing air in and out as she meditated. She levitated in the main lounging area, some small trinkets floating around her as she focussed. She felt Shanks approach her, even without opening her eyes to check.

“Uta,” Shanks said. “Can I talk to you?”

Uta opened her eyes and slowly descended to the floor, setting the trinkets down gently. Shanks waited for her to settle before saying, “I wanted to check how you’re holding up. Did Hongo give you a checkup yet?”

“He gave me some medicine, and a bacta patch for this scratch,” Uta affirmed. She showed him her right elbow which now had the white patch stuck there, healing her wound. “I scraped my elbow when I was running from the... the clones.” She said the last bit more desolately.

Shanks sat across from her on the floor, crossing his legs. “Is it okay if I ask about it?” She nodded, and he added some questions, “Who was your master? How did you escape?”

“Master Gordon,” Uta said forlornly. “He died protecting me when we were fighting the Separatists on Christophsis. I lay next to his body, pretending to be dead. I waited for the clones to be gone, then I snuck onto a starship and stole their escape pod to go back to Coruscant.”

She could still remember how afraid she was, huddled next to Gordon’s corpse and praying to the Force that she wouldn’t get caught. The clones that Uta had come to view as her brothers were unrecognisable, coldly shooting her Master down. She was just lucky she had a fairly small frame and didn’t get shot, just scraping her elbow when she pretended to be.

“I hoped to find other Jedi at the temple, but there were so many clones so I ran away,” Uta told him. She revealed her lightsaber hilt under her cloak attached to her belt—red and white plating adorned it along with some cute stickers that had worn down over the years of wielding it. “I’m not bad at lightsaber combat. I’m very good! But up against so many clones, I can’t do it.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Shanks said understandingly. Uta felt so safe in his presence like he could impose calmness upon others just by regarding them so kindly. “Then how did you end up at my ship?”

“For a week, I hid in the lower levels of Coruscant. Clones patrolled trying to find surviving Jedi who escaped there,” Uta told him. “Some people still supported the Jedi and agreed to hide me for a while, but after a week it was too risky so I left. I ran to the spaceport, hoping to find a ship I could sneak onto, but I was sick and hungry and I saw the crate of meiloorun near your ship.”

Shanks nodded, sighing he reached a hand over to pat her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Uta. That, and the war, is so much for a little girl to go through. The galaxy is so infinite and full of beautiful things, but it also has an endless capacity for unfairness. I’m really sorry about your master and any other friends you lost.”

Uta smiled slightly at his sympathy. “Thank you, Shanks. And thank you for saving me.”

“Of course. I can’t imagine being in your position, it’s horrifying. The fact that you were even fighting a war when you’re only, what, 15?” Shanks said in disbelief, shaking his head. “The Jedi may have been fighting on the side of good, but conscripting child soldiers was...”

Uta shrugged. She felt like she could do her part for a safer galaxy but now that the war was over and she was being punished, she partly wished she got to spend her childhood just playing with her other Jedi friends. She hoped they were all okay somewhere. When she was a Padawan before the war started two years ago, they were just peacekeepers. The war forced them all to become soldiers for the Republic.

“At least we won,” Uta settled for saying.

“At what cost? An ungrateful galaxy,” Shanks said, standing up. “Are you hungry? I’ll ask Roux to prepare food for you. Anything you like.”

“Can I have some buttersweet puffs?” Uta requested, standing up too.

“He’ll need some time to make it, but sure,” Shanks replied.

Uta followed him through the Red Force’s halls to the pantry, taking in the echoes reverberating throughout the ship. She had a fairly rare Force ability that she was still quite weak in, but it was enough to get something out of it. She had psychometry, allowing her to learn the past of an object or location by touching it.

Her abilities weren’t well-trained because she didn’t know any Jedi Masters who had it, so she had to rely on herself to hone it. Here, though, she could sense the faint echoes of a younger Shanks. She could hear a sound coming from him, but it was too distorted to tell if he was crying or laughing.

“Shanks?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to you when you were younger?” Uta asked. “Were you laughing or crying?”

Shanks paused, lingering in the hallway momentarily before he asked, “Why are you asking that?”

She answered, “I sensed something... An echo from the past.”

Shanks’s silence was growing uncomfortable. Perhaps Uta accidentally struck a nerve with her question. “Shanks?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shanks finally said, continuing to walk towards the pantry. “Come on.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk tossed Uta’s file onto the small stack of files, each one of a Red Hair Pirates member. There was also one on pirate culture. He wasn’t new to what the pirates of the galaxy were like, but it was interesting to read more in-depth about their beliefs. He actually quite admired how they strived to do whatever they wanted. They went wherever they pleased and took anything they desired. He thought that perhaps he would’ve made a fine pirate too in another life.

While pirate crews were more openly active during the Clone Wars, they’d since become more covert in the Empire’s reign. They were harder for Imperial officials to follow and catch. Admittedly, Mihawk was rooting for them. He didn’t like being part of the Jedi, but the Empire was even worse, so anyone who could get a leg up on them deserved his support.

Speaking of pirates becoming more covert, Mihawk wasn’t entirely sure where the Red Hair Pirates had shot off to. There were other options he could consider; One, they had a crate of meiloorun which was a popular import on Lothal so that was an option, and Lothal had a Jedi Temple there; Two, there was a pirate port called Port Borgo located in the Outer Rim that was popular for pirates to visit; Three, they may be looking for steel strong enough to resist blasters and lightsabers, so Dinzo, Mokivj, Gromas, and Tatooine were four more options, for cortosis and phrik.

Six options were five too many. Mihawk closed his eyes and leaned into his pilot seat, trying to guess which was Shanks’s most likely choice.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to calm his mind. When Mihawk joined the Jedi Order, he was already nine years old, much older than they usually take in. Older kids were more difficult to mould into their ways—they already had their attachments and beliefs. To make matters worse for his master, Mihawk was a Mandalorian and they were known for being difficult people for Jedi to deal with.

Mihawk was passed through several Jedi Masters who insisted he was too uncooperative of a student. He ended up with one named Silvers Rayleigh. He matched Mihawk’s wit at every turn and actually found a way to get through to his Padawan. When Mihawk got his lightsaber, he claimed the Mandalorians’ Darksaber. Rayleigh realised Mihawk was fascinated with lightsaber combat and leaned into that to get him interested in the Jedi arts.

Once Mihawk got in the groove of things, his progress was astronomical. Rayleigh was praised for being able to teach the impossible student, and the other Jedi’s opinions of Mihawk began to change—until he graduated and became a Jedi Master. They once again viewed him as a stubborn, brutally honest Mandalorian isolationist.

Even as an Inquisitor, he refused a partner like the others and worked alone. He didn’t even bother with getting to know the other Inquisitors other than the First Sister Boa Hancock (a Human-Nightsister from Dathomir) and Second Brother Crocodile (a human from Cantonica). It didn’t matter to him—once the Mandalorians pulled it together, Mihawk would defect and leave the Empire—

His head pulsed and Mihawk lurched forward, flinching in pain. His vision was blurred as he reoriented to the new view before him.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

Shanks sat alone in the Red Force’s cockpit. He offered to watch for when they dropped out of hyperspace so Building Snake could get a snack. Everyone else was preparing for when they landed on Daiyu.

Suddenly, he felt a strange feeling strike deep in his chest and he breathed consciously, unsure why he felt this way.

“Shanks.”

Shanks froze at the voice. It was clear of any voice filters, but its cadence was undoubtedly the Inquisitor’s. He looked up to see him standing behind him in the window's reflection. He whirled around in his chair, stunned to see the Inquisitor there.

He brandished his sword, got up, and pointed the blade at the Inquisitor. “How did you get on my ship?”

The Inquisitor replied, “I’m not actually here.”

He had black hair, slightly messy from being stuck under a helmet, and had some black eyeliner smudged under his eyes. His skin was pale, making the black makeup stand out, and his eyes were yellow and ringed. Other than the absence of his helmet, he was still wearing his black and red Mandalorian armour, his cape hanging behind him with a light sway to it.

Shanks took a step back. “Then why am I looking at you?”

The Inquisitor glanced around the cockpit thoughtfully as he paced around. He was fairly off-putting when Shanks couldn’t tell what he was capable of at that moment. Could he hurt Uta or him in this form, if he wasn’t there physically? Was he as harmless as the wind? “This is new to me too, but it reminds me of something I read about many years ago.”

Shanks remained wary, the tip of his sword always pointed in his enemy’s direction. “What?”

As though suddenly uninterested in the topic, the Inquisitor didn’t answer, simply saying, “I read up about you. You’ve piqued my interest, Shanks. I’d like to know more about you... but I’m not so sure where you’re headed. I have a few guesses.”

Shanks huffed, unsure what to make of their conversation. If the Inquisitor wasn’t physically here, perhaps he could let his guard down. He couldn’t possibly attack Uta in this state, right? He kept his sword up anyway, saying, “Let’s hear them.”

“Lothal,” the Inquisitor said, and Shanks’s heart dropped. That was their next stop after Daiyu. “Port Borgo, Tatooine, Dinzo, Mokivj, and Gromas. Was I close?”

“Why would I tell you if you were or not?” Shanks replied. It was terrifying how accurate his guesses were. Was he really that predictable? The crew agreed on Daiyu then Lothal, and Shanks was secretly planning to visit Port Borgo to look for some pirate contacts and ask about any Jedi who may have asked the outlaws for help. Yasopp even suggested some cortosis and phrik dealers to get armour sets. Every guess of the Inquisitor’s had some merit but he couldn’t let him know that.

The Inquisitor stepped towards him, and Shanks stepped back until his back hit a control panel. He stayed there, holding his breath as the Inquisitor came closer like he was trying to remember every detail on Shanks’s face. Quietly, he asked, “Did I get them all?”

Shanks stared at the Inquisitor, unwilling to tear his eyes away. A Mandalorian helmet was a scary sight, but this man’s eyes may be even more paralysing. They drew one in like a creepervine dragging its prey with its vines into its jaws. As much as Shanks’s mind told him to look away and find an opportunity to get one over his enemy, he found it equally difficult to be the first to break eye contact. Perhaps there was the concern that the Inquisitor would do something the moment Shanks lifted his eyes from his person.

Without waiting for an answer, the Inquisitor asked barely above a whisper to the point Shanks felt his breath featherlight on his skin, “Where are you, Shanks?”

“I’m not telling you,” Shanks said. It felt like he was being suffocated, this close to the Inquisitor, but he wasn’t being Force-choked. He wasn’t even sure the Inquisitor had the power to do it over such a great distance. “I’m going to keep that girl safe from you.”

“I’m sure you will,” the Inquisitor replied. Right then, the Red Force dropped out of hyperspace at the coordinates Snake set it to. Shanks’s eyes widened as the Inquisitor turned towards the planet, and then a small smirk grew on his face.

“Oh,” the Inquisitor recognised the planet. “I found you.”

Shanks shoved the Inquisitor away and leapt into the pilot’s seat, trying to figure out how to set up another jump to hyperspace. He shot a quick glance behind him, stunned to see the Inquisitor was gone. All the better, anyway. Shanks beckoned, “Beck, Snake! Get over here!”

Within a minute, both men ran into the cockpit and Shanks said, “The Inquisitor knows we’re here. We need to skip it and go to Lothal.”

“The Red Force can’t handle two light-speed jumps this close,” Beckman reminded him.

“Dank farrik, fine!” Shanks said, tense. “New plan. Beck, you and I will take Uta to find Galdino. Two volunteers will ask around and find any information about any surviving Jedi. The rest will stay with the Red Force in case the Inquisitor tries to sneak onboard. One person stays in the cockpit to prepare for immediate takeoff.”

Building Snake left to distribute the orders as Shanks put the ship in the landing sequence. Now alone with Shanks, Beckman asked, “How does he know we’re here?”

“He...” Shanks trailed off. How could he even explain that without sounding crazy? “It’s like he was here, but he wasn’t. I don’t know, but I saw his face. And he saw the whole cockpit, including the window. He recognised Daiyu.”

Beckman looked bewildered but rolled with his captain’s explanation. “How do we stop him from doing that?”

“I don’t know. If anyone else in the crew sees him, let me know first,” Shanks ordered as the Red Force lowered to the ground. He left the cockpit, shouting, “Uta, put your cloak on! Let’s go!”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

As Shanks walked with Uta and Beckman to where Galdino supposedly was, he still felt disoriented by the Inquisitor’s visit earlier. How did he do that? He wondered if he would’ve actually been able to fight him in that form. Was he corporeal or not? Damn it, he should have checked.

“Shanks,” Beckman said, guiding Uta down an alleyway. “Are you okay?”

“You feel nervous,” Uta said, looking up at him.

“I’m fine,” Shanks lied. “Just wondering how long it’ll be before the Inquisitor finds us.”

“Hopefully, Galdino will be helpful, then we won’t have to worry about that,” Beckman said.

They finally reached the area where Galdino was said to be, and Uta instantly spotted a girl with a pink hat on—Marianne, Galdino’s partner in this “business.”

Shanks hurried over to her and asked, “Are you Marianne?”

She stared at him, looking over the whole group. Once she saw Uta’s Jedi robes, she said, “I know what you’re here for. Follow me.”

The three followed the young girl down some alleys into a poorly-lit building. Shanks wasn’t so surprised—the darkness probably helped hide from the patrolling stormtroopers. She led them up an old elevator with flickering lights to a warehouse-like room with one table in the centre where a man sat, disguised in a cloak.

The man lowered his hood, revealing an odd haircut and a pair of glasses. “You’re Jedi looking for a way out?”

“She is,” Shanks said, nodding down at Uta. He felt wary about this man, and then muttered, “You’re not actually a Jedi, are you?”

The man baulked slightly. “Of course, I am! Why would you say that?”

Shanks frowned. “You’re not very... Jedi-like.”

Uta suddenly cried out, “You’re not even Force-sensitive! Shanks, he’s lying!”

Galdino stood up in shock. “I am! Hold on, I’ll prove it!” He waved his hand, pulling a steel cup closer to him across the table.

Shanks gritted his teeth. Normally, he would’ve found this amusing, but with the Inquisitor hot on their tail, his patience was low. If Galdino struck out, he had to get back to the Red Force and hopefully outrun the Inquisitor. Without proper ammunition, he couldn’t keep up with him. Shanks pointed out, “You literally have magnets taped to your hand.”

Galdino stuck his hands behind his back. “You don’t have proof!”

Marianne sighed. “They caught you.”

Galdino sagged in disappointment, sinking into his chair again. “Look... Okay. I’m not a Jedi. Fine, but! But!” He cowered back when Beckman took a step forward. “I’m not lying about knowing where to take Force-sensitive people! I just thought people would believe me more if I was a Jedi.”

“What is it? Where?” Shanks asked, desperate for an answer. He wasn’t sure how reliable Galdino was, but he seemed earnest.

Before Galdino could answer, Beck shouted, “Shanks! The Inquisitor!”

“Dank farrik, not now!” Shanks turned back to Galdino. “Tell me!”

“Map—“

The window shattered and a bright red lightsaber ignited. Its light reflected off the Inquisitor’s pristine black armour as he straightened up, looking like a sleek killing machine. Shanks urged Uta towards Beckman and ordered his first mate, “Get her and these two to the ship. Get the intel from them. Prepare for takeoff.”

“To where?”

“You decide. I’ll rely on you,” Shanks said, turning back to the Inquisitor and brandishing his beskar sword. “I’ll hold him off. Go!”

The others hurried back to the elevator and once they were gone, the Inquisitor said, “Finally, all alone.” It felt strange to hear his filtered voice now that Shanks knew what it sounded like without any modulation.

“How did you do that on my ship?” Shanks asked, slowly circling the Inquisitor as he did the same to him.

The Inquisitor shrugged. “I didn’t do it consciously.”

“But you can do it. Surely you can do it again,” Shanks said. His heart was racing every minute he was in the same place as the Inquisitor, the wary unfamiliarity similar to when he visited a planet for the first time. “Are you actually here right now?”

“Everyone else saw me,” the Inquisitor pointed out.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks barely caught his breath as he stumbled towards the lounge of his ship, seeing his crew and Uta assembled there. It seemed like she and some of the men were in a heated disagreement, so Shanks tabled his tension about Mihawk to deal with this first.

“What’s wrong?” Shanks asked.

“Uta ran off from Beck to invade the Inquisitor’s ship!” Gab reported.

Uta baulked at him. “Snitch!”

“Snitch?” Howling Gab echoed, bewildered. “Anyone can tell you it’s a stupid move to trespass onto Imperial starships!”

Shanks’s eyes widened and he asked, “Are you crazy? Why would you do that!”

“You were fighting the Inquisitor!” Uta argued. “I wanted to help!”

“Helping me would be obediently going back to our ship with Beck,” Shanks insisted.

“No, helping you would be finding this!” Uta pulled out a small data cylinder from her belt. “When I snuck onto his ship, I downloaded any information related to him onto this data stick.”

Shanks stared at it, then her, and wordlessly took the data stick from her little hand. He brought it to the holotable and stuck it in as the others crowded around. The system read the data stick, and then a 3D rotating headshot of Mihawk was projected. He looked slightly younger here than in real life, the image must have been from a few years ago. He still had the same hairstyle and facial hair, but Shanks could see the collar of Jedi robes that barely got cut out of the hologram.

His information was projected in Galactic Basic in a list beside his image, an assortment of more images, and a box of other notes on him. Shanks’s eyes flickered over the text, and everyone else silently read up on Mihawk.

Name: Dracule Mihawk
Alias: First Brother
Species: Human
Age: 43
Birth: 25105, Mandalore
Affiliation(s): Jedi Order (Master), Mandalorians — Clan Dracule, Galactic Empire - Inquisitorius
Apprentice(s): None/Unknown
Family: Unknown
Acquaintance(s): None/Unknown

Expectedly, even the Empire’s data log of him offered virtually nothing about the private man. The only new information was that Mihawk was born forty-three years ago on Mandalore. The rest were either easily guessable or Shanks already knew that. This wasn’t even information Shanks could use to get one up on his new enemy.

“I hope there’s more than this,” Shanks said, clicking through the data stick’s contents.

“I got everything his system had on him,” Uta told him. “I did these kinds of missions during the war.”

“Seems like something your Master should’ve been doing himself,” Shanks murmured. A child like her should’ve been stuck on the ship while her Master ran dangerous missions, not infiltrating enemy ships to steal confidential intel. Finally, he found a folder about his past in the Jedi Order. He opened it and a new slew of information was projected in midair.

Mihawk was taken in by the Jedi when he was nine—far older than most children. Shanks knew they preferred them much younger since they were easier to mould into perfect Jedi. By nine, they had attachments and opinions and weren’t as willing to comply without questions. Especially since Mihawk was a Mandalorian, Shanks wasn’t surprised to read that he was a difficult student. He was only wrangled by a Jedi Master named Silvers Rayleigh who died several years before the Clone Wars began during an off-world mission. Mihawk had long been granted the rank of Master (impressively, he gained the rank within five years from beginning his training) and didn’t accompany Rayleigh to that mission. After being promoted to Master, Mihawk never applied for a Padawan and remained without an apprentice during the Clone Wars. He was unpopular in the Jedi Order and only well-regarded for his strength in the Jedi arts. His connection to the Force was impressive, granting him stronger abilities like accurate clairvoyance, Force barriers, and mind probing. It seemed like Mihawk could be capable of more, but the profile on him offered nothing more on that end.

Shanks hummed in thought, trying to find more images. There were some of Mihawk at the Jedi Temple before the Galactic Empire took power—he wore brown and black robes like most other Jedi, but he wore black and wine-red Mandalorian armour on it. There was also an image of his Darksaber—a unique black Mandalorian beskar hilt, shaped like a sword. There was another lightsaber’s image in the log that Shanks assumed may have been his lightsaber before he was permitted to claim the ancestral Darksaber—a beautiful golden hilt with blue and green buttons and intricate detailing that looked like flowers crawling up its length. It had a yellow blade.

“This is pretty useful,” Shanks admitted. “Good job, Uta... but next time, leave this kind of thing to the adults.”

“But I’ve done it before!” Uta protested. “I did well, didn’t I?”

“You did, but I’d rather kids just be kids,” Shanks replied. “If you think something may be valuable, tell Beck or another adult and we’ll handle it.”

Uta pouted and folded her arms. “I’m not a little kid.”

“You fought in a war, but you’re still a little kid,” Shanks replied, ruffling her hair. She huffed and Shanks figured he would talk to her later after she had time to cool off.

Beckman asked, “It's useful to know more about him, but can we use any of this?”

“He never bought into the Jedi Way, so we can’t exactly use that to guilt him about his actions. We should avoid the Jedi entirely,” Shanks thought aloud, staring at Mihawk’s information. “His old Master from the Jedi Order is dead, so there’s nothing there. No known family... We could look up Clan Dracule and see if there’s anything there...”

“Don’t bother.”

“What?” Shanks yelped, stumbling backwards into Mihawk’s armoured chest. At the feeling of cold beskar against his back, Shanks lurched forward to put some distance between himself and the Inquisitor and turned to face him. Mihawk was wearing his helmet this time.

His men stared at him, confused, and Hongo asked, “Shanks, are you okay?”

“You guys really don’t see him?” Shanks cried out, pointing at Mihawk.

“See who?” Yasopp frowned.

“The Inquisitor! He...” Shanks remembered his crew couldn’t see Mihawk but couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to him now that he was here again. “What do you mean ‘don’t bother’?”

“Everyone in my clan died during the Siege of Mandalore,” Mihawk said nonchalantly. Shanks wondered if he was really this unbothered about that, or just pretending for his enemy. “You can go to the Mandalore sector and search all you want. You’ll find nothing.”

Shanks had a feeling Mihawk wasn’t just throwing him off; he may have already gone looking himself and found nothing but armoured corpses. He wanted to ask—perhaps Mihawk would feel more obliged to answer if nobody else could hear him. “You looked?”

Mihawk stared at him, cocking his head slightly. Shanks could faintly see his eyes flicker to the floor through his visor. “How else would I have known?”

Shanks had the human instinct to show some sympathy and say he was sorry but also knew Mihawk had no right to ask for that sympathy when he was hunting children. Mihawk didn’t seem like someone who cared to be shown empathy anyway. Shanks fought the urge to sympathise and said, “Fine. We won’t go.”

Mihawk looked at the projected data behind Shanks. His crew mates all stared at Shanks, unsure what to say to their captain talking to an invisible person. Mihawk pondered the information, then turned away. “This is quite useless if your goal is to find something to hurt me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me yourself?” Shanks replied brazenly. Mihawk would probably like the frankness. “What hurts you?”

Mihawk’s shoulders sagged slightly as though he was sighing in consideration. “What hurts me, hm? I suppose that after chasing you down three times, I owe you a level playing field. Let’s see...” He paced the room and Shanks watched him warily, despite knowing he couldn’t do anything. Could he? What if he could, and Shanks just wasn’t aware? He still hadn’t tested if Mihawk was able to touch anything in this form. He quickly moved to Uta, protectively pulling her a little closer to him.

Mihawk made no move towards her, simply circling the table and Shanks’s men. He said, “Perhaps someone stronger than me.”

“Liar,” Shanks said, slightly impatient when unsure of what Mihawk could do. Mihawk didn’t seem like the type of man to fear someone stronger—he’d probably run straight into a fight with them in excitement. “You’ll probably lie again, but I’ll ask one more time. What hurts you deep down?”

“Fine, I’ll be honest for you. I pity how you’ve lost all our encounters so far,” Mihawk said, purposely trying to provoke Shanks. “Well, I can’t give you an answer anyway. I don’t know it. But I’m sure someone so finely attuned to the galaxy around him such as yourself can figure it out. Impress me.”

“Impress you?” Shanks baulked. Mihawk was definitely trying to piss him off. What kind of Inquisitor was he? Do they all play with their targets this much? Surely not, this was painfully inefficient. Was Mihawk really dragging the hunt out just for his own pleasure? He put a hand around Uta’s shoulder, his other reaching for his sword. “Do you do this with all your chases?”

“No,” Mihawk said, shrugging once. “Just the one.”

“Why?”

“I told you already. I think you’re interesting,” Mihawk said. He waved a finger in his direction. “I want to know how your mind works.”

Shanks’s grip on Uta’s shoulder tightened slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I want to know why you’re suppressing that part of yourself so much,” Mihawk clarified. “You know what I mean.”

“I'm not suppressing anything. I'm a pirate, I live freely,” Shanks said through gritted teeth. “Say what you mean. Don’t play these mind games.”

“Am I playing the game or are you? I’ve been honest from the beginning about what I’m after and have behaved accordingly. You are the one fooling around. Playing stupid, feigning weakness...”

Shanks worked his jaw, unwilling to let Mihawk get under his skin. He wanted him to leave him alone and before he realised it, Mihawk disappeared from view. He blinked, readjusting to his surroundings now that the Inquisitor wasn’t around. He’d practically forgotten everyone else was still here since they were all dead silent as Shanks spoke to Mihawk.

“Captain,” Limejuice said quietly. “What was that?”

Shanks pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from the men and the holotable. “I told Beckman before, but somehow Mihawk can... I don’t know how he does it. He visits me through the Force, I think. I see him in front of me, so detailed that it’s like he’s physically here. I don’t know if he’s capable of actually touching people or things when he does this. I don’t know if I can do it to him.”

Uta stared at him with an unreadable expression. Perhaps the more time Shanks spent with her, the kid would be easier to perceive. She asked, “When else did he do it?”

“The first time was when we were in hyperspace to Daiyu,” Shanks answered. “I was alone in the cockpit and he showed up. He said he read about something like this before but didn’t tell me more. Then he asked me where I was going. I said I wouldn’t tell him and I’d keep you safe from him. He said he was sure I would, and then we dropped out of hyperspace and he recognised Daiyu.”

“That’s how he found us,” Yasopp said, enlightened.

“If he can just drop in anytime and find out where we’re going, isn’t it useless hiding from him?” Hongo questioned.

“Yeah, but...” Shanks trailed off. He’d never had an opponent who could visit him and leisurely look around his ship. He didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t sure what to do. He was supposed to be the captain who knew what he was doing! His crew looked to him for their next moves! He was supposed to be one of the best pirates in the galaxy, yet he was having this much difficulty trying to shake off an Inquisitor. It certainly didn’t help if said Inquisitor’s people were renowned hunters. Shanks sighed heavily and tried to recollect his thoughts. “We still need to find a safe place for Uta to go. It’s not like Mihawk drops in all the time. I think he doesn’t even know how to do it, it might just happen unconsciously. If that’s the case, then it’s a matter of how quickly we can get shit done before Mihawk pops in again.”

“If we don’t know when he’ll drop in, maybe we should keep you in rooms where there’s nothing important to find,” Roux suggested.

“I get the thought process but come on, you guys are not exiling me to a store room! How can I lead the crew like that?” Shanks baulked. “Look, if Mihawk appears again and I’m in the cockpit or something, I’ll leave. I’ll get out to the hallway where he won’t see anything. We can get ahead of him. Dismissed.”

Shanks left the room and Uta followed, tugging his sash. “Shanks.”

“Yes, Uta?”

She began, “About the Inquisitor connecting with you through the Force...”

“Listen,” Shanks cut over. “It’s okay. I got it under control.”

“I know you do!” Uta agreed. “But I wanted to tell you that it’s not a common ability. It’s unique to only two people across the galaxy... and all time.”

Shanks stared down at her, unsure what to make of it. A part of him wanted to ask her to explain more if she knew as such, and the other part wanted to leave the conversation.

Uta asked, “Shanks, what hurts you deep down?” When Shanks didn’t answer, she gently pressed on, “I can sense so much pain in you—”

The ship suddenly jolted and both of them lurched to the wall with the movement. Shanks instantly grabbed Uta, pulling her protectively towards him and placing a hand over her head to protect her from any sharp edges along the wall.

Shanks shouted, “Someone figure out what that was!”

Building Snake answered loudly from the cockpit, “Captain, mercenaries!”

“Dank farrik, now?” Shanks groaned, making his way towards the cockpit as Uta ran off to her quarters. “Put us through. Let’s figure out what they want.”

Shanks, Beckman, and Snake went to the cockpit while everyone else prepared for potential combat. The Red Force boasted dual laser cannons and all thirteen weapon emplacement points had been filled with powerful armament hand-selected by Yasopp. Shanks had no doubt that, whoever was attacking them, his crew and ship were fully equipped to deal with them accordingly.

Beckman pressed a few buttons on the control panel and reported, “Beast Mercs’ general on the line.”

“Beast Mercs? Shit!” Shanks muttered, pulling himself together before Kaido’s face appeared on the control panel’s hologram projector. Kaido was the leader of the Beast Mercs, a team of incredible and highly wanted mercenaries he formed across the galaxy. Shanks didn’t know each individual member too well, but he knew all of them thought of Kaido like family, and the lowest bounty on the team was at least 50,000 credits—no small feat. Shanks was 5,000 credits shy of it, though admittedly it was because he didn’t tend to bother people. Kaido’s bounty was 250,000 credits because he was often hired to go after big-name targets like politicians, celebrities, rich people, and the like. The only member Shanks knew by name was the member with the second highest bounty—Kaido’s right-hand man Alber, whose bounty was 150,000 credits. Shanks didn’t know what species Alber was exactly. Apart from the black wings, red eyes, and white hair, he looked like a human, albeit a very tall one. Kaido was of impressive stature, similar to a Gen’Dai's, but also looked more or less human.

“Red-Haired Shanks,” Kaido greeted with a grin. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah?” Shanks asked. “Listen, I’d love to chat, but we’re in a hurry. Can I help you with anything?”

“We hear you’re chasing a Holocron,” Kaido said, “and harbouring a Jedi. I want them, and any other valuable cargo you’re carrying.”

Shanks frowned. “What do you even plan to do with the Jedi?”

Kaido shrugged. “Recruit them. Why not? It doesn’t matter if they completed their training. I can train them in what matters, and... honestly, you’d be doing them a favour, handing them over to me. I can protect them in my crew.”

“I think they’re fine with me,” Shanks replied. “It’s nice talking to you, Kaido—”

“Shanks,” a man’s voice cut over. His voice was low, smooth, but unsettling. A man in black and white Mandalorian armour stepped into view in the hologram. His pauldrons had black curved horns, and his cuirass featured silver square clips with white Mythosaur skulls. Like his pauldrons, his helmet had horns and was painted in various black shades. His visor was black like most Mandalorian helmets. This was Alber—an infamous near-human Mandalorian mercenary. “You either give us the Jedi and cargo of your free will, or we take them of our own.”

“Try it,” Shanks replied, prepared to fight for Uta’s safety.

“Last chance,” Kaido offered. “We’ve made many upgrades to our armament in the past few months. That first shot we took at you earlier? Our weakest punch.”

“Yasopp, now!” Shanks shouted out of the cockpit.

Ahead of him, he could see Yasopp firing the laser turrets at the Beast Mercs’ ship, a stolen Arquitens-class light cruiser. While he could see it have some impact, it wasn’t enough to severely impair the larger ship. Shanks made a mental note to start looking for a ship more easily modifiable for armament and hung up on Kaido. Now that he and Alber had disappeared from the control panel, Shanks commanded, “Snake! Set course for—”

The ship lurched again as the Beast Mercs fired at them. An alarm sounded in the cockpit and Snake notified, “Shields are down!”

“What can we do?” Shanks asked.

Beckman offered, “I’ll get Limejuice to get them back up.”

“Go! And tell Yasopp and the others to lock in, we’re in a dogfight,” Shanks ordered. Beckman nodded and ran out of the cockpit, shouting Shanks’s orders down the hall. He turned back to the control panel and front window, seeing the Deity firing at them. Kaido wasn’t bluffing about his newly advanced armament, and if Shanks knew his weapons well enough, most of them were illegal and difficult or insanely expensive to obtain.

“Snake, jump to hyperspace as soon as you find an opening,” Shanks said.

“Where to?”

“Your choice. We’ll go from there,” Shanks said. He could try to head to Lothal as planned, but he didn’t want to risk Mihawk waiting there for them after the ship got damaged by Kaido. If Snake picked somewhere else, they might be able to get ahead of him.

“Turrets down, Captain!” Yasopp reported through the com-link.

“What?” Shanks baulked. “Dank farrik. Come on, Snake.”

“Setting course for Savareen,” Snake decided, keying in the coordinates. He placed his hand on the lever and counted down, “Jumping into hyperspace in three, two...”

He pulled on it and the ship shot into hyperspace. Shanks wanted to sigh in relief but paled when he realised Kaido followed them.

“No way, he followed us?” Shanks shouted. “When did he...” He trailed off, then answered his own question, “Must’ve sent a shuttle while we were at the holotable and put a tracking device on the Red Force then.”

The Deity continued firing at the Red Force. Snake tried his best to dodge, but inevitably couldn’t miss some hits due to limited movement in hyperspace. A particularly hard hit made Shanks almost fall over, and he asked, “What’d he hit?”

“The hyperdrive!” Building Snake warned. “Dropping out of hyperspace!”

“Where?” Shanks asked, panicked.

“I don’t know! Somewhere in the Morlani system!” Building Snake answered, pressing buttons in a hurry. The bright blue environment of hyperspace abruptly dissolved as they hurtled down towards an unidentified planet.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks coughed as he struggled up onto his elbows. Light smoke wafted through the cockpit, and Shanks belatedly processed that they had crash-landed. He saw Building Snake unconscious in the pilot’s seat while looking around and got up to check on him. He was still breathing and looked outwardly fine, but Shanks decided he should get Hongo to evaluate him.

“Uta,” Shanks remembered. He quickly ran down the hallway towards Uta’s quarters. “Uta! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Over here!”

He peered through her doorway and sighed in relief to see that the girl was fine. Uta had buried herself under the blanket when turbulence hit and remained protected by cushions when the ship crashed. He looked over her just to ensure there were no prominent injuries and nodded when he was satisfied. Shanks said, “Uta, please help me look for Hongo and get him to take a look at Building Snake in the cockpit. I’m going out to check out if Kaido landed too.”

Uta hurriedly grabbed her lightsaber hilt, clipping it to her belt. “I should go with you!”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “If I see them coming, I’ll get back here, alright? You’re a peacekeeper, right? So help me take care of Building Snake here, and I’ll go check things out.”

Uta reluctantly agreed, letting her hilt fall back to her side as she ran off to find Hongo. Once she was gone, Shanks put his hat on and disembarked the ship.

Turning back to look over the exterior damage, he winced. His beautiful YT-2400... The laser turrets had indeed been blown to hell, and there were multiple points of carbon scoring all over the hull. The Red Force had been used as his base of operations since Shanks was in his twenties. Now that he was almost forty, he wondered if it may be time for an upgrade to a ship better suited for defence... Once they were off this planet and handled things with Uta, Shanks could ask Iceburg for his advice.

Speaking of “this planet”... Shanks looked around and tried to see if he recognised the terrain. All Building Snake said about it before it crashed was that it was one in the Morlani system. The crash affected the control panel so going back inside to find out what planet it was would prove a fruitless venture.

What Shanks knew about it was that it was located in the Free Trade sector. At the very least, he knew this was the Outer Rim, and the planet was likely under the control of the Empire. The Morlani system was under the control of the Preox-Morlana corporation—law enforcement. Shanks had never encountered any Pre-Mor members, but what he heard of them wasn’t good.

This definitely wasn’t Morlana One (made up of coastal industrial cities and oceans) or Ferrix (barren and rocky). No other planet in the system seemed to match this one, and Shanks began wondering if Kaido had shot them out of hyperspace before Snake could figure out properly where they would actually land. If this wasn’t any planet in the Morlani system...

Shanks looked around, hoping it was one of the planets Roger showed him back in the day. The planet was actually quite beautiful, with large hills rolling across the land, tall mountains, and water bodies like rivers. It had a light fog over the grassy terrain and cloudy skies.

Shanks looked up at the sky and then he remembered seeing this before. When Roger brought him here, it was to witness a cosmic event called the Eye—referred to by locals as the Mak-ani bray Dhani. The planet Aldhani would pass through a belt of crystals every three years. The result was a mind-blowing gorgeous blanket of meteor showers cast over the sky.

At least Shanks knew where they were now. The only problem was figuring out what to do with a damaged ship and a mercenary crew hot on their tail. He looked around the area, trying to see if Kaido’s ship landed anywhere. There wasn’t anything for many clicks, so Shanks figured they hadn’t dropped out of hyperspace yet. He wasn’t sure what the hold-up would be, but he wasn’t one to take his blessings for granted.

With the extra time given from Kaido’s unknown setback, Shanks started pondering what to do. Aldhani was a beautiful planet, but there was no way the locals’ technology was even remotely suited to repair the ship. The last time Shanks came here was when the Galactic Republic was still in power, so he didn’t know if there were any Imperial outposts being constructed here. It was best to leave as soon as possible. He just needed Limejuice to check if the Red Force could fly. If she couldn’t, their next move was to try contacting his other pirate friends to pick them up or pray that a shipyard had been built here.

Squinting against the midday sky, Shanks suddenly saw two ships drop out of hyperspace. One was Kaido’s recognisable gargantuan ship, and the other one was...

“Mihawk,” Shanks recognised. No wonder Kaido took a while to arrive. He had no idea how Mihawk knew Shanks was in the system, but he’d arrived only to get intercepted by the Beast Mercs. Shanks could see Mihawk’s Phi-class shuttle getting fired at mercilessly. Mihawk expertly navigated the starfighter to dodge as many shots as possible but with so many mercenaries firing such accurate shots from multiple points of Kaido’s modified light cruiser, even a skilled assassin like Mihawk could do little to fend himself from the onslaught.

A shot collided with the engine and Mihawk’s shuttle began spinning out of control. Kaido’s ship fired a smaller missile at the shuttle, blasting off one wing. Mihawk’s ship plummeted straight to the ground as Kaido’s ship circled around to find a flat area to land. They definitely spotted Shanks’s damaged ship but given the rocky terrain of Aldhani, it would take them a while to find somewhere to land such a huge ship and then make their way towards both Shanks’s crew and Mihawk.

That left Shanks with two options: 1) take advantage of Kaido’s new setback and get his crew to safety, or 2) help Mihawk escape Kaido and pray it would be good leverage to make him drop his chase after Uta. If Mihawk agreed with him, then he could kill two birds with one stone and get both Mihawk and Kaido out of the way.

He glanced back at his ship where Beckman came down the entry ramp. Beckman asked, “Did you find anything?”

“Kaido’s finding a place to land. He shot down Mihawk’s ship, he landed a few clicks away. If I take the speeder bike, I’ll get to him before Kaido does,” Shanks told him.

Beckman stared at him, then asked, “Are you planning on killing him?”

“I think saving him from Kaido could help convince him to drop his Uta mission,” Shanks pondered. “I don’t know. Mandalorians treasure children. I think if I help him escape Kaido and appeal to the Mandalorians’ generosity for children, he might let her go.”

Beckman checked warily, “Are you sure he won’t just kill you? He did chase us here.”

“I don’t even know how he did that!” Shanks replied. He flapped a hand at the ship and said, “Please help me do some things. Bring me the 22-B Nightfalcon, make sure Hongo is okay, and can check on everyone else. Get Limejuice to check if the Red Force can fly or make hyperspace jumps. When I get back, I want a list of everything she needs fixed or replaced. If she’s too damaged to fly, try contacting Linaria and ask her to help. If she can’t, check with Bonney.”

“Got it,” Beckman said. He soon handed the speeder bike off to Shanks and he revved the engine, firing across the grassy land towards Mihawk’s crash site.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk groaned, shaking his head lightly as he tried orienting himself. Thankfully, he was wearing his helmet, or he might’ve suffered even worse head injuries. He tried to get up but baulked when he realised he landed upside down, trapped between his seat and the control panel with his helmet slipping off.

“Dank farrik,” Mihawk cursed. He used the Force to unclip his seat belt and tried to carefully slide out. He grunted when he realised he hurt his right leg in the crash, but couldn’t tell if it was broken or just badly sprained.

Mihawk had managed to slice into a tracking device planted on the Red Force but he wasn’t counting on the ones who put it there to have such strong firepower. The Beast Mercs were infamous across the galaxy—so powerful that the Empire decided it was better to come to an agreement with them and leave them alone. Some other crime syndicates like the Hutt Cartel had similar deals with the Empire.

Despite the agreement for the Beast Mercs and the Empire to leave each other alone, Kaido mistakenly assumed Mihawk was there for them and began unleashing an endless barrage of blaster fire upon Mihawk’s ship, shooting him down to Aldhani. The only thing Mihawk could be grateful for was that he didn’t use his personal starfighter today.

“Shit,” Mihawk muttered. He couldn’t quite figure a way out of the position he was trapped in, but he knew he couldn’t just wait around for Kaido to find him. Mihawk could put up a fight, but his odds when he was injured and outnumbered by many capable fighters were less than optimal.

“Hey.”

Mihawk’s gaze snapped towards the reflection in the cracked window, seeing a familiar redhead. He frowned, saying, “You must be happy to see me like this.”

“Only because I can help you out,” Shanks replied, carefully getting into the ship. “Okay, come on. Slowly.”

“Leave me alone,” Mihawk snapped, not in the mood to tease Shanks when he was this uncomfortably stuck. “I can get out myself.”

Shanks reasoned, “Look, you clearly aren’t in top form to fight the Beast Mercs. Kaido would love to get some Imperial kills on his ledger. I can help get you out of this wreckage before Kaido gets here to finish the job.”

When Mihawk didn’t respond, Shanks took it as a go-ahead to continue helping him. Shanks added, “On one condition. If I help you now, you leave Uta alone from now on.”

“Sure,” Mihawk answered easily.

Shanks asked, wary, “Really?”

“I gave you the answer you wanted to hear and yet you’re wary,” Mihawk said flatly. He let Shanks gently help him out of where he was stuck. He picked up his helmet and lightsaber on the way.

“Can’t be too careful in a galaxy like this,” Shanks said lightly. He successfully extracted Mihawk from his position and helped him out of the ship. He gently set him down on the grass, then told him, “My bike can carry a passenger so I can take you back to our ship. My doctor can help you.”

“No,” Mihawk instantly denied. “Get lost.”

Shanks raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You’ve been chasing us endlessly for a week, and now you’re telling me to get lost?”

“Do you want me to go after Uta or not?” Mihawk snapped. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with people after plummeting straight into the ground. He dusted his helmet off and slipped it back on, not wanting Shanks to read any expressions off his face. If they really had the kind of Force connection Mihawk thought they had, he wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. “I’m not going to play with you right now. Enjoy your peace, you glob of Mantellian Savrip vomit.”

“Glob of—” Shanks echoed, appalled. “I just helped you, you mudscuffer!”

“And now you insist on annoying me. I told you I’d leave the child alone, didn’t I?” Mihawk grumbled, shoving Shanks off of him as he tried to check on his leg. He hissed when he turned it a certain way. He hadn’t broken it, but it was sprained. “Bother me some other time, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Shanks sighed, pointing in the direction of his ship. “My doctor can help you. We can drop you off at the closest Imperial sector if my ship is fine.”

“And if it’s not?” Mihawk shot back, feeling particularly agitated. “You like pretending everything is perfect, don’t you? You live in a reality you made up.”

Shanks stared at him and Mihawk could sense his own temper rising. The redhead said, “I’m living in reality. I don’t get why you keep talking like you know me. Have we met?”

“No. But you and I both know why I know who you are,” Mihawk said, trying to get up on his feet. “Why you’re pretending you don’t is the interesting part.”

Shanks instinctively tried to help him, only to get Mihawk’s attitude again in the form of a sharp glare through his visor. Patience wearing thin the longer they dragged out their vulnerability in the open area, Shanks argued back, “I’m not pretending! I’m a pirate! I live freely!”

“So you say,” Mihawk muttered.

“And yet it keeps going in one ear and out the other!” Shanks said, annoyed. “Listen, if we stay here, we’ll both be gunned down by Kaido’s people. We should go right now, and then we can bicker all we want. Come on.”

“You don’t need to help me,” Mihawk said. “Go run away if you want. I don’t run from my problems unlike you.”

“Excuse me?” Mihawk knew Shanks was in utter disbelief of his attitude. Still, he could sense a shred of empathy from the other man. Perhaps he knew Mihawk just wasn’t in the mood to mess with him after being shot out of the sky, and neither was himself. Shanks recollected himself and said, “Alright. New agreement. If you won’t go after Uta anymore, then I can take you back to my ship to get your leg checked out. Once everything’s okay, we’ll fly you to the nearest Imperial-controlled planet, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Mihawk shrugged Shanks’s hand off his shoulder, less aggressively than earlier. “No.”

Shanks blinked at him, confounded. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I told you I’m hunting a Jedi,” Mihawk replied, staring at Shanks through his helmet.

Shanks said, confused, “And you said you’d stop going after Uta!”

Mihawk gave him a pointed look and he knew Shanks could feel the gravity of his stare through his red visor. “See? Running again.”

“Dank farrik, you’re so confusing!” Shanks cried. “Can you just say what you mean instead of all these riddles?”

“If you stopped faking stupidity, you’ll realise I’ve told you none,” Mihawk replied, cavalier to rile Shanks up. He was such a peculiar man. To bury such a big part of him so deep within himself that he couldn’t even think of it when it was staring him right in the face...

Before Shanks could argue, both men were suddenly hit by stun shots and passed out on the grass. Mihawk blearily looked up through his helmet, seeing a large winged person approaching them before his vision went black.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks was getting a little sick of this new routine. Ever since the Empire rose to power and the Red Hair Pirates suddenly had an Inquisitor hunting their new companion Uta, he’d been getting too used to waking up in undesirable situations or making a run from a fight he was heavily outgunned in.

He groaned and sat up against the wall, coming to grips with where he was. Across him in what looked to be a cell was Mihawk. His lightsaber, helmet, and armour were missing, leaving just his plain Inquisitor uniform. It looked so empty without the armour, and his frame looked only slightly narrower without the pauldrons beefing it up. Mihawk looked like he’d been awake for a while, glaring at Shanks.

“Good morning,” Shanks said sarcastically. “Where are we?”

“The Deity’s prisoner holding cell,” Mihawk answered, turning his gaze towards the red laser gates keeping them locked in. Anything that touched it would be burnt to a crisp, so unless they found something Mihawk could pull over with the Force, they were stuck here.

“Damn. Who shot us with those stuns?”

“The first mate,” Mihawk replied coolly. “King.”

King was the more well-known alias of the human-S’kytri hybrid mercenary Alber. Before joining Kaido’s crew, he was already infamous. He was more than two metres tall, fit, intimidating, was a Mandalorian, and could fly—all good prospects for a mercenary. His bounty was even a whopping 100,000 credits right before he joined Kaido. A true combative legend like other Mandalorians, Alber was an expert in many forms of close combat, hunting, shooting, and killing. He’d certainly earned his 150,000-credit bounty. If he captained the Beast Mercs instead of Kaido, Shanks wouldn't be surprised if his bounty was even higher.

“So what do they even plan to do with us?” Shanks asked.

“They’ll probably sell you off to a Hutt on some backwater planet and hold me hostage to cheat the Empire out of more credits,” Mihawk replied, still snippy from his earlier defeat. “Ask them when they come by.”

“Did they—”

“One of them called 'Queen' came to taunt us. That was about thirty standard minutes ago,” Mihawk answered, visibly annoyed by Shanks’s endless questions. “Do you have any more unhelpful questions to bombard me with before I begin ignoring you?”

Shanks bit back the urge to bicker with him and settled for saying, “That deal we made before King stunned us—did you really mean it?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t hunt Uta.”

“Of course not,” Mihawk replied, frustratingly level. “I told you, I’m hunting a Jedi.”

“You keep saying that! Yes, Uta is a Jedi, but she’s a kid. You don’t have to hunt her down, she’s a kid,” Shanks reiterated. He probably wasn’t going to find another opportunity to get Mihawk this open-minded than them being trapped in the same place with the same goal of escaping. “She has so much to live for, still. Just tell the Five Elders, Darth Akainu, or whoever your boss is that you dropped her off a cliff so you can’t present a body. Lie.”

Mihawk stared at him, confounded yet intrigued. “You’re still deflecting so much.”

Shanks asked, annoyed, “Deflecting what?”

“I’ve been telling you the same thing repeatedly, but you won’t process my words. I told you I’m hunting a Jedi. Uta may be one, but have I ever referred to her as such?” Mihawk pointed out, decidedly abandoning his earlier irritation in favour of chasing this thread. “Whenever I tracked you all down, did I once go after her?”

Shanks was silent, watching the small smirk creep onto Mihawk’s face the way a spider at the back of your neck sent shivers up your spine.

“I’m not hunting her,” Mihawk finally said. “They don’t send me for little kids, they send the weaker Inquisitors. Padawans haven’t completed their training, they don’t need their strongest to go after them. Besides, Uta isn’t logged into the Empire’s system as an active target, she faked her death at the Jedi Temple. Her ‘corpse’ was reported found beside her Master’s. She’s registered as dead already.”

Shanks recalled Uta saying she pretended to be dead among the Jedi corpses, and then running off once the coast was clear. Somehow, it never occurred to him that the clones would report her as dead. He’d assumed she was discovered anyway and that an Inquisitor was promptly sent after her. Shanks frowned, confused. “Other than her, nobody in my crew is a Jedi. Then why are you still...”

“Two decades ago,” Mihawk started, “A Jedi master was killed in a complicated skirmish with a formidable crime syndicate on Cantonica. His Padawan went missing and was presumed killed as well. In fact, because no body was found, authorities presumed it was a particularly gruesome death.” Shanks stared at him, feeling an uncomfortably hot tension spread throughout his body. Mihawk continued, “This was untrue. An informant reported seeing him on Tatooine several years later, building a new life there as a podracer, even participating in the Boonta Eve Podrace under an alias, Shamrock. He sensed the spy and relocated before the Jedi Order could retrieve him. This podracer later made a name for himself by driving dangerous circuits all over Kor Vella, stealing from rich civilians, and vandalising political property. Corellian criminal records show one registered thief who escaped prison captivity.”

Shanks’s heart thumped in his chest louder the longer Mihawk spoke, his nerves prickling under his skin. Mihawk turned away from Shanks as he went on talking. “The Jedi Order didn’t learn about the Padawan’s new hobbies. The spy’s lead went nowhere because the Padawan smartly moved to a different sector, so they thought he lied about his lead for easy credits. As a result, the Jedi Order didn’t find him, and he was confirmed dead in the datalog. Instead, an underworld bounty was raised for him—a criminal who was gradually rising in infamy across the galaxy. He was reported by an escort to be seen on Port Borgo, where he started venturing into piracy after interacting with all the pirates there. He hopped around the galaxy and purchased a YT-2400 light freighter directly from the Corellian Engineering Corporation’s headquarters. So excited to start his new life.”

“The Padawan travelled all over the galaxy, finding people to join his crew, to rope into his adventures—a first mate from Tatooine, a doctor from Carosi XII, a cook from Uki, and so on. I won’t bore you with the details,” Mihawk said. Shanks felt his skin crawl, Mihawk’s conclusion breathing down his neck. “Slowly, he made his way up the infamy ladder. He raided some Separatist cargo; he held a corrupted politician hostage; he brokered a deal with the Separatists for weaponry that he sold to the Republic. He made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs. Known as the ever-diplomatic leader of his tight-knit pirate crew. He was the type of pirate that holoshows liked to romanticise. Supposedly, had the looks for it, too.”

Mihawk huffed quietly, amusement in the sound, and shook his head. His eyes connected with Shanks’s and he could feel the rings in Mihawk’s irises burning into his own. “Did you know? The thief-turned-pirate had very distinctive features that matched those of the missing Padawan, and he had the same combat style as the famous Jedi Master Gold Roger. Did you know, too, that Roger died two decades ago ‘in a skirmish with a formidable crime syndicate on Cantonica’? His Padawan... sits before me.”

Shanks exhaled, feeling out of breath.

“As I told you from the start, Shanks,” Mihawk said with a wry smile, “I am a coffin that hunts dead men.”

Chapter Text

MIHAWK

Shanks looked horrified, like a youngling caught in a lightsaber’s glow. He left the Jedi Order long before Order 66 happened, so he likely never got to know the feeling of Darth Akainu hunting Padawans and Jedi throughout the Jedi Temple with countless clones following him.

“Okay,” Shanks said quietly, glancing around the cell. “I’m... I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“You were one,” Mihawk said.

“Not anymore. I quit.”

“It doesn’t matter. You received formal training at the Temple. From what I could glean from your files, you were already knighted long before you disappeared. Was it just because of Roger?” Mihawk asked.

Shanks pressed his lips together, uncomfortable with being questioned about his past. “Is this why you’ve been following me? You’re just curious about me?”

“Because I want to know why you want to pretend you’re some powerless weakling,” Mihawk said, adjusting the electrical binders around his waist.

“So, what, if I tell you all about my life, you’ll leave me alone?” Shanks asked, bewildered. “What is this? Are you just like... really into psychology or something?”

“A little,” Mihawk said, shrugging nonchalantly. “And no, I’ll still go after you—more ruthlessly this time. I let you get away until now because I wanted to know more about you. That’s all... unless you manage to change my mind.”

Shanks frowned at him, trying to figure him out. Mihawk could feel him prodding at his mind through the Force—unintentionally, but prodding still—and Mihawk glared at him hard enough to pin Shanks’s wrists to the wall above him. Shanks’s eyes widened in surprise and Mihawk said warningly, “Stay out of my head.”

Shanks lowered his bound wrists as Mihawk let up on the Force, and asked, “If I tell you a bit more about me, will you tell me what is this... connection we have? Uta said she heard about it before, that only two people across time and space can have this bond.”

Mihawk nodded once. “This is a fair agreement.”

“Alright.” Shanks swallowed, remembering his past that he’d suppressed. “I was born... well, I was so young, I don’t really remember, but it was in the Inner Rim or Core Worlds. Maybe Chandrila, Naboo, I don’t know. I think Naboo, I kind of feel a pull to it... Anyway, I was taken really early by the Jedi. Not Roger, some other one I don’t remember anymore who already had a Padawan. I think I had a brother and a dad, and our mom died giving birth to us. I just vaguely remember them, you know, the feeling of my dad carrying me around the house; my brother’s red hair.”

Mihawk asked, “But you were strong in the Force even then, right?”

“I guess so. Roger told me I was the strongest youngling the Order has seen in decades,” Shanks confirmed. “I feel like my brother was also strong, but I don’t really know... Maybe my dad wouldn’t give up both of us and decided he liked my brother more than me. I think of it that way to remind myself nobody in my old life would miss me. I haven’t been to Naboo even once. Who knows if I’m really from there?”

Shanks did wonder about his life before the Jedi Order from time to time... He continued, “Once I was old enough to start training, I met another Padawan in the Jedi Order and we became quick friends. I was assigned to be Roger’s Padawan, and that other one, Buggy—they made an exception to the one Padawan rule because we both showed great progress under his training and they thought we’d reach our greatest potential under Roger. He was like a dad to us, since we never got to know our birth parents.”

“Roger meant a lot to me,” Shanks said. “He showed me the galaxy! A lot of Jedi Masters kept their training at the Temple or small scouting missions to other systems, but Roger took Buggy and me everywhere. He took us to as many planets as he could, teaching us everything he knew. He taught us the ways of the Force and lightsaber combat, but he also thought the greatest thing he could teach us was how to find our way around the galaxy.”

“I think the same,” Mihawk agreed. “It’s part of Mandalorian training to learn our way around new systems and knowing others’ culture. Until I was nine, I learned about that with my clan.”

Shanks nodded, happy to find some kind of common ground with his enemy—likely diplomatic tactics Roger could have imparted to him in his youth. The redhead continued, “Roger was everything to me. I felt invincible when he was around. At some point, Buggy’s training wasn’t really improving much and he started gravitating to another Master, some Karkarodon guy called Arlong? Anyway, that left me and Roger alone in our training, though I hung out with Buggy a lot off-training.”

Mihawk cut over, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we have no idea when Kaido will come in and try to beat our lights out, so will you skip to the part where you decided to quit, and then I can tell you about our ‘bond’?”

“Yes, right. Sorry,” Shanks agreed, trying to speed up his story. “I wanted to protect Roger. I figured, if I was so worthless that my dad gave me up—even if I’m happy with my life now—then I wanted to prove I was worth the Jedi keeping. I trained really hard and got strong. I was knighted when I was sixteen, but I still hung out with Roger and Buggy a lot. I was too young for a Padawan anyway. Roger and I were really like father and son by then. We even talked about how maybe one day we could leave the Order and just have a life somewhere and live peacefully. I could actually experience the world without the restrictions of the Jedi Order. I could go see more places and fall in love...”

He sighed, muttering, “I accompanied Roger to a mission on Cantonica. He was fighting some crime syndicate—Crimson Dawn? Anyway... They were on Cantonica for recreational purposes, but Roger wanted to get the drop on them while their guard was down. I helped, but there turned out to be a lot more members present than we were expecting. They... I was stupid. I messed up and got taken hostage. Roger surrendered for my sake and got killed. I was devastated.”

“How did you escape?” Mihawk asked, trying to get Shanks to admit what he’d suppressed. “You killed them all, didn’t you?”

Shanks chewed his lower lip. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did.”

“I just felt so much grief and anger, I...” Shanks squeezed his eyes shut. An uncontrollable surge of the Force—the Dark Side—and a twenty-one-year-old Shanks had unintentionally snapped the necks of every Crimson Dawn member in the room. He made his escape then, trying to forget what he’d done. They were bad people, sure, but Shanks didn’t like being a violent person.

Mihawk nodded, feeling more understanding of Shanks’s character. “So you cut yourself off from the Force after that?”

“I tried my best to,” Shanks said, nodding in shame. “I made a conscious effort not to use it as I flew off into the galaxy. I ripped out the transmitter on Roger’s ship and left it with him, sending out his coordinates so the Jedi Order could find his body and take him back to Coruscant. I tore off a piece of my robe and left it there so they’d think I was dead and leave me be.” He paused, composing himself, and then continued. “Maybe to others, that might not have felt like anything. If I were a Mandalorian like you, I’d probably have been proud of killing a room full of people at once. I just felt so guilty. I was supposed to be a peacekeeper. And even if I wasn’t, I could do that and I couldn’t even save Roger?”

“I jumped all over the galaxy, trying to build a new life for myself. I got rid of my robes and avoided any Jedi I saw in my travels,” Shanks said, trying to summarise his story and keep his elaborations to just things Mihawk may not have known. “Roger taught me some pro pilot tricks which I used to become a podracer. I went by the name Shamrock—I don’t know, I kind of felt a connection with the name somehow. The Clone Wars happened a few years after I moved to Corellia. I met a ship mechanic named Iceburg there and made some credits helping out at his company from time to time. Corellia was more or less untouched by the Clone Wars but I hated not doing anything, so I helped from a distance. Steal from the rich, give to the poor, whatever.”

Shanks shrugged. “That’s pretty much it. Sorry if it wasn’t as exciting as you were hoping.”

Mihawk felt satisfied. At least he now knew why Shanks had cut himself off from the Force. “You really haven’t accessed the Force since Roger’s death?”

“I’ve had slip-ups, but yeah,” Shanks said. “Alright, I told you, so it’s your turn.”

“We—”

Someone else’s voice interrupted them. “You.”

Mihawk and Shanks looked over to see Alber standing at the other side of the laser gate, staring at them through his helmet. Up close, Mihawk could see many chips in the paint of his beskar armour from countless fights. If he identified the clan signet correctly, Alber was from Clan Lunarian—a relatively new clan formed after a human Mandalorian had a child with a S’kytri.

Alber was regarding him, so Mihawk responded. “Yes?”

“Are you really a Mandalorian, or did you steal that off one?” Alber questioned, nodding at him to reference his armour.

“It’s my own set, handed down from my father. I am from Clan Dracule,” Mihawk answered.

Alber cocked his head, his helmet tilting in a way that felt inquisitive. Judgemental. “Your clan was part of the Death Watch.”

“My clan barely had anything to do with it,” Mihawk instantly defended.

Shanks piped up hesitantly, “What’s Death Watch?”

“A terrorist organisation on Mandalore,” Alber replied, his gaze still on Mihawk as he folded his arms. His gauntlets clinked as the steel tapped against each other. “Near the end of the Clone Wars, they collaborated with a criminal syndicate to push the pacifist senator out of power.”

Mihawk glared at him and said, “Again, my clan didn’t do anything. They were there because they supported the return of Mandalorian’s combative history and that’s it. They never terrorised anyone with the others, and they especially had no part to play in the senator's demise. I may not be someone who starts a fight over every little thing just because I can, but Mandalore has gotten weak with a pacifist in power.” Alber stayed silent, allowing Mihawk to continue making his point. He proceeded, “I don’t agree with killing the senator. She could have been negotiated with. She may not have kept to our warrior heritage but she kept Mandalore more or less safe for most of the Clone Wars without having to side with the Republic or the Separatists. Death shouldn’t have been on the table.”

Alber nodded once. “I agree.”

“The Death Watch should never have invited the Shadow Collective to Mandalore.”

“Agreed.”

“So what is your issue with me?” Mihawk finally asked.

Alber glanced at Shanks momentarily, then asked, “This is the Jedi you are hunting?”

Mihawk nodded, turning his stare towards his target. “Yes.”

“And the girl Jack scouted by Shanks’s ship?”

Mihawk explained, “She is not my target but yes, she is also a Jedi.”

Alber hummed in thought, staring at both of them. He pointed at Shanks and said sternly, “Stay where you are or I’ll shoot you.” He pressed a button, the laser gate deactivated, and Alber cocked his head to tell Mihawk to get out.

The moment Mihawk stepped out of the cell, the gate was reactivated. With the electro-binders still around his wrists, Mihawk couldn’t do too much unarmed. There wasn’t anything to pull towards him with the Force to use against Alber. Shanks stared at them in question as Alber guided him out of Shanks’s earshot.

Now alone, Alber asked, “Why did you join the Empire?”

“I wanted to use my position to keep the Empire from other Mandalorians,” Mihawk replied without hesitation. “I was a skilled Jedi Master so they recruited me. I’m not interested in hunting Jedi, but I wanted to protect the Mandalorians.”

Alber removed his helmet, revealing his wavy white hair, red eyes, and clan face tattoo. He tucked the helmet under his arm and asked, “If you’re not interested, why even bother chasing this Jedi pirate?”

“He’s an interesting person. I want to know how he works,” Mihawk replied. “I’m bored.”

“You’re bored, you’re bored,” Alber echoed, his scoff melting into a chuckle. He shook his head, then said, “Us Mandalorians feel restless unless we’re hunting something, eh?”

“Perhaps.”

Alber nodded, then said, “I like helping my fellow Mandalorians too. When I deactivate the gate to return you to your cell, steal your lightsaber from my belt and get out with the Jedi.”

Mihawk stared at him, confounded. “Seriously?”

“My people come first, even before Kaido. After so much infighting destroyed our planet, I don’t think we need to destroy our solidarity. Not in times like this with the Empire trying to dig its claws into our world,” Alber replied, slipping his helmet on again. “When you leave the holding cells area, make two rights, a left, and go straight. You’ll find the escape pods. Once you’re there, you’ll have roughly five minutes to return to your ship.”

Mihawk frowned, unsure if he could trust Alber’s intentions. “And what will Kaido do to you when we escape? How do I know you’re tricking us into digging a deeper grave?”

Alber shrugged. “I don’t care if you believe me. You have one chance to take me up on my offer. If you choose not to jump at the opportunity to escape, I won’t let you out of that cell again until Kaido decides where to take you.”

He led Mihawk back to the cell and Shanks stood up from his place on the floor, wondering what they were discussing. Mihawk could see his circular lightsaber hanging from a buckle on Alber’s belt. Alber shoved him closer to the gate and he could feel him drop a com-link into his collar.

Mihawk used the Force to reclaim his lightsaber when Alber deactivated the gate, swinging one ignited blade aggressively at Alber. Protected by his Beskar, Alber simply blocked the hits with his gauntlets as Mihawk commanded, “Shanks, get out. We’re leaving.”

Shanks didn’t bother saying anything, obediently stepping out of the gate as Mihawk shoved Alber into the cell, reactivating the gate. As the red laser formed over the gap between them, Alber nodded subtly, once. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Mihawk replied, patting Shanks’s arm once to tell him to follow him.

They didn’t say anything as Mihawk followed Alber’s directions towards the escape pods. There was no point risking audibly catching someone’s attention. Shanks remained silent as well, following Mihawk’s lead.

Soon, they found the escape pods and Mihawk shoved Shanks in, hissing, “Figure out the controls. You’re flying us to your ship. Get in touch with your crew, they better have an escape plan by the time we reach them.”

Shanks whispered, pressing buttons on the control panel, “You don’t want to fight?”

“We are heavily outnumbered which is normally fine, but I am still injured and we have no known route off the planet,” Mihawk explained, keeping watch as Shanks figured out the controls. An alarm suddenly sounded throughout the ship, red lights flashing in warning.

“Get in, get in,” Shanks said, waving at Mihawk to enter the escape pod. Mihawk got in and the door slid shut just as Queen’s fists slammed it.

“Do you think it’s that easy?” Queen shouted, pressing a few buttons to override the controls of the escape pod. The door opened and Mihawk instinctively shoved Shanks behind him, knowing he was the one between them with a more effective weapon. Shanks hadn’t even brought his weapon, likely thinking being unarmed would’ve helped in his negotiations with Mihawk.

Mihawk activated his lightsaber, slamming it against Queen’s gauntlet. He frowned when his lightsaber cut out and had to dodge as Queen tried to punch him. With how corroded the steel looked, it had to be made of cortosis. It had the ability to short out lightsabers, but it was a very brittle metal. It seemed to have been used for years without any repairs or reinforcement, so it was only a matter of shattering the gauntlet.

“Shanks, the controls!” Mihawk grunted, trying to wrestle Queen out of the escape pod. His lightsaber would be useless against cortosis, so he had to use hand-to-hand combat. His Mandalorian training, no matter how short, was a great help. Even after he left Mandalore to train with the Jedi, Mihawk secretly corresponded with his clan to continue his Mandalorian combat training. Rayleigh probably knew, but he never said anything.

He roughly shoved Queen against the wall in the hallway, ramming his face into a panel of buttons. Something in another part of the ship was probably going to start malfunctioning but as long as it wasn’t the escape pod, it was the least of Mihawk’s concerns—

Unless it was the holding cells because a Mandalorian was there! Damn it! Mihawk pulled Queen off the wall and straddled him on the ground, landing hard punches to his face before slamming his beskar gauntlets against the Tiss-shar’s head to try to disorient him.

Suddenly, Queen yelped as his blaster flew out of his grip. Mihawk glanced back to see Shanks’s hand extended towards them from the control panel, eyes wide. Shanks stared at his hand, amazed at the Force, and Mihawk got up and kicked Queen in the head as hard as he could. Queen grabbed his ankle and pulled with enough force to make Mihawk fall. He grimaced as he hit the floor and tried to shake Queen’s hand off.

When it didn’t work, Mihawk took advantage of their position on the floor to reclaim his lightsaber from where it’d rolled away from him with the Force, activating it to slice Queen’s hand off above the gauntlet.

Queen wailed in pain as his wound got instantly cauterised, and Mihawk shook the limp hand off his ankle.

“Hey,” Shanks called. “Flight path’s ready.”

“Hold on.” Mihawk raised his lightsaber, slashing Queen’s head clean off his shoulders. He could see Jack running his way and Mihawk threw his deactivated lightsaber towards him. Its circular hilt spun in midair before Mihawk used the Force to activate it just as the emitter pointed at Jack. The blade went right through Jack’s durasteel chest plate and he collapsed to his knees.

Mihawk held a hand out in the direction of Jack’s body, letting his lightsaber fly back into his grasp. He sliced the panel outside of the escape pod so nobody else could override it again and slid under the closing door just in time. He straightened up and ordered, “Go.”

Shanks pressed a button and the door slid shut, the pod ejecting itself off the side of the Deity as it shot off in the direction of Shanks’s ship.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

Once the Red Force was in sight, Mihawk commanded, “Get close.”

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” Shanks asked, still wary.

Mihawk was silent for a second, likely rolling his eyes under his helmet, and said, “I’m going to put us in a Force shield. I don’t know if I can take another crash, and I promised the girl’s safety. She needs you to protect her, no?”

“Right, right,” Shanks said, stepping slightly closer to Mihawk. With a wave of his hand, he could practically feel a protective bubble forming over both of them. He asked, waiting for the inevitable rough tumble when the escape pod hit the ground, “Did Master Rayleigh teach you that?”

“No,” Mihawk answered.

“You haven’t told me about our—”

The crash interrupted Shanks, who instinctively grabbed onto the closest thing to him for stability—Mihawk himself. Mihawk gritted his teeth but allowed it, trying to maintain the Force shield and his balance. One hand planted itself around Shanks’s waist to keep himself upright until the pod came to a stop next to the Red Force.

“Go,” Mihawk said, dispelling the shield and gently pushing Shanks towards the opened pod door.

Shanks hurried out, shouting towards his first mate, “Beck! Is the ship good?”

“It’s fine, we have coordinates set for—”

“I know you’re sick of running, but we seriously need to go. Our ship isn’t ready to fight Kaido,” Shanks said. “Prepare the ship to jump into hyperspace.”

Beckman looked alarmed. “Captain, but the Inquisitor—”

“—Is coming with us,” Shanks said, his tone making it clear he didn’t want any questions right now, and letting Mihawk follow him up the ramp.

Uta stared at them from the top of the gangway, curious and wary. Mihawk didn’t glance at her once as he followed Shanks further into the ship—in hindsight, it should’ve been more obvious that Mihawk wasn’t after her.

Suddenly, Mihawk joked from behind him, “Is this what Roger taught you? Is running all you know? Running from every confrontation, from your past...”

“Shut up,” Shanks said, teeth gritted, as he approached the cockpit where Hongo and Building Snake were. “Take off and jump once we hit the atmosphere.”

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Beckman told Shanks that Limejuice had scraped Kaido’s tracking device off of the Red Force, so they at least had a head start on getting away from Kaido. Building Snake and Beckman agreed to head to Corellia for repairs, but Shanks had already decided to try and wrangle a good deal for a brand new ship and focus on armament. There was no point trying to repair this first ship anymore—being so easily overpowered by Kaido’s monster of a starship was a wake-up call—and Shanks would much prefer spending the credits on upgrading a more combat-capable ship. If he wanted to protect his crew and Uta from the increasingly dangerous galaxy, he needed to be prepared for opponents like Kaido.

As they travelled through hyperspace, Mihawk was a relatively tame guest on the ship. He stayed within Shanks’s range of sight or earshot without being asked. Though he confirmed he had never hunted Uta, he kept his distance from the girl. Mihawk even removed his helmet so Shanks could see if he intended to do anything.

Uta, however, was still curious about him and kept coming close. She sat beside him in the lounge where Shanks looked over starship models on his datapad and asked the Inquisitor, “Were you at the Jedi Temple the whole time?”

“I’ve been Master Rayleigh’s Padawan since I was nine. I was knighted by fifteen and given the rank of Master a few years after. I was off-world when the Jedi Purge happened,” Mihawk answered, predicting Uta’s upcoming questions to save both of them time. He clearly wasn’t someone who enjoyed holding conversations.

Uta nodded, eyes wide. “You weren’t hunting me?”

Mihawk’s eyes slid over to Shanks, who averted his gaze. None of his crew knew he was Force-sensitive, let alone a former Jedi. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal that part of his history to them yet. Like he’d read his mind, Mihawk coolly lied, “Yes. But I struck a temporary deal with your guardian over there. You are not my priority right now.”

“Oh, okay,” Uta said, narrowing her eyes at Shanks in wariness. Shanks could faintly feel her suspicion of him growing and stared at his hand again. He was still reeling from accessing the Force earlier. He hadn’t used it in years, the last time being when he was street racing on Corellia and used the Force to pick up an important mod he attached to his airspeeder (in which its prolonged absence would result in his prompt and painful demise). He hadn’t used it since then, and he’d convinced himself that he’d finally lost the ability to hurt people that easily.

His fingers tingled. Something about being around Mihawk for such a long period was strengthening his connection to the Force...

Shanks turned back to Mihawk and said, “Here’s the plan. Once I meet with Iceburg at Galley-La, the First Brother can contact his other Inquisitors for a pick-up, but only after we get a new ship and leave. He won’t bother us again after that. We’re done.”

Mihawk frowned like he knew why Shanks was saying that. Uta tilted her head in surprise, asking, “But if you leave him, won’t that undo the deal you made? I don’t really know the terms—”

“It doesn’t matter, Uta. I’ll protect you,” Shanks promised.

Uta glanced between them and asked, frustrated, “What are you keeping from me? I’m not strong enough to do mind tricks yet! I can’t read you guys, but I can tell you have a secret! I felt it before, didn’t I, Shanks? I felt that you were crying in the hallway—”

“Uta, please,” Shanks pleaded. “I don’t want to think about it. Please leave it for now.”

Uta frowned, folding her arms. “How can I trust you if I don’t know what you’re hiding? Tell me now or I’ll leave with the Inquisitor.”

Mihawk’s eyebrows rose slightly, curious to know what Shanks would do. Shanks had to admit that after what Uta went through, she was right to be so wary of him. He may have helped her evade Mihawk’s capture several times, but he’d otherwise not shown her he was trustworthy. Now that Mihawk had revealed he wasn’t hunting her, Shanks was even less necessary to her survival.

“Okay. Fine.” Shanks pressed a button on the wall and the doors to the lounge closed. Now alone with Mihawk and Uta, Shanks confessed, “I used to be a Jedi. I ran away from the Order when I was twenty-one after my former Master died and cut myself off from the Force.”

“No wonder I couldn’t sense you!” Uta said, everything making sense. “And when you described what you and the Inquisitor had, I thought you might be Force dyads, but if you weren’t Force-sensitive then it wouldn’t make sense—”

“Wait. Force dyad?” Shanks stopped her, frowning in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Our ‘bond’,” Mihawk explained, keeping his gaze level and unreadable. “Two Force-sensitive people who share a unique connection in the Force. We are attuned to one another in every way. One of our unique combined abilities is what we’ve been doing— ‘visiting’ each other by accessing what the other sees, feels, or hears.”

Uta nodded excitedly, corroborating his story. Shanks felt dizzy as she said, “Yeah! This is a longtime prophecy! The dyad would be equals of the light and dark sides of the Force!”

Shanks leaned against the wall as he processed it. Mihawk was his equal in the Dark Side? His “other half” in the Force? That couldn’t be right at all. It wasn’t just who they were at their core being so juxtapositional, but the other factor was that Mihawk was an incredibly powerful Force user which meant Shanks’s strength was still there. Locked away, but there. His potential to hurt his friends was still there, and the more time he spent around Mihawk, the higher the risk...

“Captain!” Beckman called, knocking on the lounge’s door. “Dropped out of hyperspace! Entering Corellia airspace in five standard minutes. Galley-La in seven.”

“Got it,” Shanks said absently. He heard Beckman walk away down the hall.

“Shanks?” Uta asked, concerned.

“You need to leave,” Shanks finally said, staring at Mihawk. “You don’t have to wait for us to get a new ship. You can have one of your Imperial doctors look at you instead of Hongo once you’re back at Coruscant or wherever you’re based. Steal someone’s speeder and go to the other side of Kor Vella and call your colleagues there. Just get away from me, I don’t care how.”

Shanks opened all the doors and retreated down the hall, desperate to get away from Mihawk as quickly as possible.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

UTA

The revelation that Shanks was actually a Jedi wasn’t too surprising. The suppression of his connection to the Force was more obvious now that she knew that. His entire crew was full of people who weren’t Force-sensitive and who wouldn’t be able to detect him! It was increasingly evident he didn’t want to be sensed by anyone so he could bury his past deep underground.

She turned to the Inquisitor and said, “You didn’t have to be an Inquisitor.”

“I want to do my part for my people,” Mihawk replied, standing up.

“The Dark Side users? Mandalorians?” Uta questioned.

“Take a guess.” Mihawk slipped his helmet back on and dropped a com-link in her hand. “Pass this to your captain and tell him I’m leaving. The com-link will connect him to that Mandalorian, Alber. Goodbye, Padawan.”

Uta watched as Mihawk descended the Red Force’s lowered gangway before hopping on someone’s speeder bike nearby and driving off. She was surprised Mihawk actually listened to Shanks’s request for him to leave, but supposed he didn’t have any reason to fight to stay.

Waiting by the ramp, she soon saw Shanks approaching it and reported, “The First Brother left.”

“Oh. Already?” Shanks asked, also surprised, but quickly shoved the matter aside in favour of his priorities. “Right. Well, on to important things... Uta, you stick with me, okay? Yasopp and Limejuice, check with Franky about a new ship from our shortlist. He knows ships better than us and will know what they have on hand. I’ll talk to Iceburg about accommodations if we can’t get a new ship today. Hongo, ask Paulie about stripping the ship for parts. We’ll have back the armaments and custom parts we can reuse but the rest, we’ll sell to them. We can use the credits to take some of the financial strain off the new ship. The rest of you, get our supplies off the ship and ready for relocation. Go.”

The men instantly split off with their orders, ready to fulfil them to the best of their ability. It was amazing to see Shanks be secure in his leadership skills, leading his crew in moments like these. Uta knew leadership didn’t come too naturally to some—while Master Gordon did fine as the general of his clone platoon, he wasn’t as skilled in combat as other Jedi and admittedly fell short. In his defence, he didn’t specialise in offence since he was used to being a peacekeeper and not a soldier. Shanks was so good at directing his crew, that Uta was certain he would’ve made a fine general during the Clone Wars.

She followed Shanks as he approached Iceburg, one hand scrolling on a datapad while the other flirted with the stem of a Malreux rose. Shanks called out, “Ice! Sorry to bother you again so soon!”

Iceburg’s eyes flitted from Shanks to the wreck of a starship behind him and winced, tucking his datapad under an arm. “What happened now? We just repaired that!”

“Kaido,” Shanks said. Without any more elaboration, Iceburg understood and sighed.

“Okay. Well, if you approach Franky—”

“He can advise us on a new model. And Paulie will help strip reusable parts and pay us for the scraps,” Shanks said with a charming smile. He was so good at pretending nothing was the matter... She wouldn’t have known he was having a bad day had she not seen him upset about his connection to Mihawk earlier.

Iceburg gave him a flat look, then lifted his datapad again. “Then what would you like to discuss with me?”

“Accommodations, safely out of reach of any Big Moms, Kaidos, and Imperials,” Shanks answered. “Just until Franky sorts out our new ship. We can pay—if not in credits, we can help you run some errands in return.”

Iceburg hummed in consideration, tapping the datapad screen a few times. “I think I can manage that. If we have the model right now, you won’t need to stay at all. If we need to import it, you probably only have to stay for two to three standard days. I’m sure we can host you until then.”

“Ice, you’re the best!” Shanks said, grinning as he hooked an arm around Iceburg’s shoulder. “By the way, been a long time since we chatted. How are things with Paulie?”

Iceburg raised an eyebrow. “Things with Paulie?”

“Yeah, I thought you two went on your... date?” Shanks asked. “Dinner at Coronet City?”

Iceburg blinked, confused, and then asked, “That was a date?”

Shanks awkwardly pulled his arm back. “Oh, maybe I said too much... I’ll talk to Franky now. Bye-bye.”

He quickly guided Uta away with a grin. Once out of Iceburg’s earshot, he explained, “Paulie has been pining after him for ages but Ice is so oblivious. I just wanted to push them in the right direction, help them out a little.”

“Oh! Then why don’t you just tell Iceburg that Paulie likes him?” Uta asked.

“I think they’d rather sort things out more personally than have someone else do the confessing for them,” Shanks said lightly.

As they walked through Galley-La’s shipyard to find Franky, Uta piped up, “Mihawk wanted me to give you this, by the way.”

Shanks took the com-link from Uta, surprised. “He gave us a way to contact him?”

“To contact 'the Mandalorian Alber', not him,” Uta clarified. “He didn’t leave you anything to talk to him.”

“Oh,” Shanks said. Uta could sense something within him—an emotion she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t know Shanks too well yet, so perhaps that was why. Perhaps it was relief with a touch of... something she just couldn't figure out. Disappointment? It felt incorrect, but Uta couldn't think of a more fitting label. Incomplete?

She reminded him, “You’re a Force dyad. You can contact him any time you want, remember?”

“Right, that’s true,” Shanks muttered, distracted. “Uta, can I ask you something?”

“Sure!”

SHANKS

“Is there a way to sever whatever a dyad is?” Shanks asked in a hushed voice as if Mihawk could hear from the other end of the city. “I don’t want this connection. I don’t want to be strong in the Force again. I just want to leave that part of my life behind and be a normal pirate.”

Uta gave him an apologetic look. “You can’t really break the connection. And the Force flows through everything, so you’ll never really cut yourself off from it.”

Shanks winced, disappointed by the answer. From his old teachings, he knew the Force was in everything, but he really hoped he could just forget everything Roger taught him and move on with his life as a harmless pirate—at least, in terms of the Force.

“Shanks,” Uta continued. “It’s not healthy to turn away from it.”

“I don’t see why I have to face it now,” Shanks replied. “Up until the Inquisitor showed up, I had no problem living without it.”

“He’s your equal,” Uta pointed out. “He’ll push you towards your potential.”

Maybe I don’t want to know what I’m capable of, Shanks thought. Outwardly, he only said, “I guess.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

The Second Sister—Nightsister Boa Hancock—came to pick Mihawk up from Corellia. As he’d promised, he drove a stolen speeder bike to the far edges of Kor Vella before contacting other Inquisitors. The Second Brother Crocodile was a few systems too far, but Hancock was close enough.

Hancock stood at the top of her Phi-class shuttle’s entry ramp with one cocked eyebrow. “How did you end up here?”

“Kaido attacked me,” Mihawk muttered, entering her shuttle before the ramp closed behind them.

Hancock took her place in the pilot seat and asked, “Why was he after you? He’s not supposed to go after the Empire in exchange for immunity.”

“I was chasing another pirate crew, but he mistakenly believed I was hunting his mercenaries,” Mihawk said, taking off his helmet to nurse a growing headache by rubbing circles into his temples. “He shot me down over Aldhani, but I managed to get a ride off the planet from some locals.”

Hancock nodded, sighing. “You’ll need to report that. It’s a violation of Kaido’s treaty with us.”

“I know.” Mihawk rolled his eyes. “That’s why I have a headache.”

Hancock huffed, pressing a few buttons to prepare to jump back to Nur where the Inquisitors’ base was. “Crocodile thinks you’re slipping.”

“Why?”

“You’re taking too long to find that pirate Jedi.”

Mihawk scoffed at her, crossing one leg over the other before wincing. It still hurt after his crash on Aldhani and had only gotten aggravated when he fought Queen and Jack. He said, “When have I failed my other missions? I’ll find Shanks eventually. Just let me have some fun.”

“Darth Akainu won’t be happy.”

“Darth Akainu lets his daughter run around playing house with that Imperial cadet,” Mihawk said condescendingly. “He may be our boss, but he’s not intimidating. Neither is the Grand Inquisitor Sengoku.”

“Well, what about the five Emperors?” Hancock questioned. “Jumping into hyperspace in three.”

Bright blue waves surrounded the shuttle as it jumped, and Mihawk answered, “I could take them.”

She laughed, partially in amusement and partially in disbelief. “They’re very powerful in the Force! I know you’re supposed to be a prodigy, but do you really think you could take all five of them at once?”

Mihawk shrugged. “I’m a Mandalorian. Those odds are ideal.”

With Shanks now aware he was Mihawk’s target, and of their “bond”, Mihawk was a little interested in seeing how far his Force abilities could be pushed when he was close to his equal. Near him, he could feel the Force flowing through him twice as fervently. How strong could he get, if he chased Shanks more? Surely, if he could convince Shanks to face his fears and past, he could get him to fight alongside him against the Five Elders. Together, they stood a good chance...

“Yeah, yeah. I forgot how cocky your kind is,” Hancock said sarcastically. “All you Mandos know how to do is fight.”

“And look who is First Brother,” Mihawk said snidely as the shuttle dropped out of hyperspace in front of Nur. “Also, tell Crocodile he still can’t even find that Padawan Nefeltari Vivi after so long. He can’t say anything about me hunting a full-grown expert criminal.”

Hancock laughed again, this time fully humorous, and began the descent upon the base’s landing pad.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Iceburg set Shanks’s crew up in some rundown part of the city near Galley-La. Like most of Corellia, everything looked weathered and rusty, but it wasn’t the worst living space Shanks had ever had to stay in. He’d stayed in worse with Roger on off-world Jedi missions like having to set up camp in the raging sandstorms of Jedha, or Tatooine which was prone to attacks from krayt dragons burrowing in the sand beneath them—

Maybe Shanks just didn’t like desert planets very much. Ironically, he loved a good shore.

Uta had been settling fine with the crew so far, her only known issue being Shanks’s conflict with the Force. She kept trying to talk him into meditating with her, and Shanks often humoured her for a few minutes before making up a reason to stop. He really didn’t want to reconnect with the Force and would rather put the whole Jedi thing behind him. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to the girl anyway.

While waiting for their new ship to be imported, Shanks put his men to work with errands. Roux was in charge of obtaining food and drinks to stock up; Yasopp worked with Franky to order new armament mods ahead of time so they could be added to the new ship quickly; Hongo went looking for medical supplies like bacta patches and medication; Beckman delegated any other less urgent tasks to the rest of the crew such as moving all their belongings out of the old ship to prepare it for the new one while working on arranging their next move according to what Shanks wanted.

He hadn’t heard from Mihawk which should’ve been a relief, but he found he was only more concerned about what he was doing now that he was out of Shanks’s sight. Knowing he wasn’t after Uta was a huge relief and he no longer thought him to be as evil as he initially did, but he did say he was hunting Shanks.

The Inquisitors were led by the Grand Inquisitor (who he heard was a man named Sengoku) and another man named Darth Akainu who often wore a helmet so his real identity was unknown to Shanks. Akainu was the right-hand man to the Five Emperors, so he knew he wouldn't be easy to defeat—or someone people were eager to disappoint. Whenever Darth Akainu showed up somewhere, everyone knew someone would die before he left. Practically every criminal Shanks knew did their best to avoid Akainu. He wasn’t one to show mercy. Even higher than the Five Emperors was one person Shanks knew nothing about.

Shanks looked around his temporary quarters, distantly thinking about every time in the past he and Roger camped out in a small inn—sometimes with Buggy—and he’d be bouncing off the walls, so excited to wake up the next day and explore the terrain.

He then thought about Uta. She was young enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t get many chances to leave the Jedi Temple and see the galaxy. Besides, most of her off-world missions seemed to be to aid the Clone Wars, so it wasn’t like she’d be able to enjoy the sights while trying to fight droids and Dark Side users.

He felt bad suddenly. She wasn’t so different from him, after all. Shanks still explored the galaxy to feel close to Roger, the closest thing he had to a father. Uta probably wanted Shanks to reconnect with the Force because she missed her Master, or just wanted to have another Force user around her again. A sense of normalcy.

He went to her room—she’d been put with Hongo because Shanks thought it was best to keep her close to a doctor since he would know how to care for her—and called, “Uta?”

He heard her boots pattering on the floor before the door slid open. She looked up at him so innocently, it was hard to remind himself she fought in the Clone Wars. It was even harder to picture her having to hide amongst the corpses of her friends and Master... “Yeah, Shanks?”

“Would you like to take a walk around Coronet City with me?” Shanks asked.

Uta blinked up at him, reaching for her lightsaber. “Do you have a mission to go on?”

“No, no,” Shanks assured. “I just thought you might want to go sightseeing with me. We have nothing to do until the new ship comes, so we can relax and check the town out. Corellia isn’t the most gorgeous planet out there, but since it didn’t play a big part in the Clone Wars, I’d imagine you didn’t get many chances to come here.”

“I’ve never been here other than with you,” Uta admitted. She clipped her lightsaber on her belt and then pulled on a pink poncho Hongo bought for her to hide her Jedi robes. “I’ll go with you, Shanks.”

“Great,” Shanks said, smiling. He thought about holding out his hand to walk with her later, knowing how crowded the streets of Corellia’s most popular city could get, but felt a little awkward about it and kept his hand to himself. He felt such a strong need to protect this girl as Roger did him. He briefly considered taking her on as an apprentice so she could continue her training... “Just let me grab my sword and com-link first and then we’ll go.”

“Okay.”

Uta waited outside his room as Shanks went in to claim his weapon and com-link. On the desk, the com-link Mihawk left crackled to life and Shanks jolted back in surprise, quickly activating it. “Hello?”

“What? Who is this?” The other end’s voice said. It was still King. Shanks wasn’t sure why he thought it could’ve been Mihawk. Why would he care to keep in touch with him like this when he could drop into his consciousness any moment he wanted? “Where’s the Mandalorian? I need to speak with him.”

“He left the com-link with me and returned to wherever it is Inquisitors go,” Shanks explained. “It’s Shanks, by the way.”

“I don’t care,” King replied. Shanks couldn’t say he was surprised. “Why did he give it to you? I specifically gave it to him.”

Shanks threw a hand up, frustrated. “How should I know? Mihawk does whatever he wants and doesn’t really think about telling anyone else why.” Changing the subject from his confusion about Mihawk’s behaviour, Shanks asked, “What do you need his help with? Maybe I could pass on the message.”

King was silent on the line for a while, long enough that Shanks contemplated the likelihood that he’d chucked the com-link into the ship’s airlock once he realised he lost contact with the other Mandalorian.

“I was found out by Kaido,” King told him. “I retreated to Naboo so let Dracule know, should he wish to rendezvous with other Mandalorians in the future.”

“Naboo?” Shanks echoed, his heart skipping a beat. The planet he always suspected was his homeworld... “How is it there?”

Shanks could almost imagine the frown of confusion on King’s face. “What?”

“Um, nothing,” Shanks quickly disregarded. “Why did you end up there?”

“I suspected Kaido was catching onto my releasing of you and Dracule, so I reached out to my other bounty hunter contacts to find somewhere to retreat. I am not easy to kill, but Kaido is something else,” King told him. “Someone hooked me up with being a hired bodyguard for the current senator of Naboo. I left for Naboo in time, I was told by Kaido’s son Yamato that he was going to skin me alive for losing such important hostages.”

Shanks questioned, “I don’t think being the bodyguard of someone so high profile will help you lay low, would it?”

“No, but protecting the senator means I am one of the most important people of Naboo right now. I can use Naboo’s resources for protection, and the Empire does help protect its politicians,” King explained. “Just let Dracule know when you are able. I am indirectly working for the Empire as a guard for someone in the Imperial senate, unfortunately... But that means if he needs the help of another Mandalorian, I will not be difficult to find.”

“I’ll tell him when I can,” Shanks promised. He wondered if he should ask about Naboo again but opted against it, saying, “Stay safe. Thank you again for letting us go.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Alber muttered, “but you’re welcome.”

The com-link crackled again to signal that Alber had turned his off, and Shanks tucked it into his pocket in case Mihawk somehow came back. He could try to return the com-link and ask why the hell he’d give it to him when he wanted to protect other Mandalorians.

He stepped out of his quarters and locked the door, beaming at Uta. “Let’s go! I used to live on Corellia for a while, I can show you all the things I used to do.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk stalked through Port Borgo, feeling every pirate’s eyes on him as he made his way around. Port Borgo was a spaceport at the ass end of the galaxy where pirates congregated. It was so far out that the Empire didn’t care much about it, and it wasn’t even well-known outside of pirate circles. Mihawk only knew about it as part of his Mandalorian training to learn as many little nooks and crannies in the galaxy as he could possibly cram into his brain.

The handful of times he’d come here with Rayleigh as a Jedi Padawan, Port Borgo was bustling and noisy, with people ranging from ugly towering brutes spilling ruby bliel on themselves to pretty women offering company just to trick you out of a hefty sum of credits. The crowd seemed the same even now, but the noisiness was kept to a minimum as everyone wondered what an Inquisitor—and a Mandalorian one, at that—was doing there.

Mihawk settled at the bar, waving the proprietor over to order. He asked, “Do you have Mandalorian wine?”

“No, sorry.”

“Blossom wine?”

“We have some imported straight from Naboo,” the proprietor said, eager to have something the Inquisitor wanted—serving Mihawk meant a smaller chance of suffering consequences, after all. Mihawk nodded and waved at him to handle his order and the bartender got to work pouring him a glass.

Mihawk glanced around at the pirates standing around him. Two sat at the bar, too nervous to move away, and he asked, “Has anyone heard of Red-Haired Shanks?”

“The pirate captain,” one of the two at the bar muttered. He had wild red hair and a modded left arm, while his friend had long blond hair and wore a blue and white mask. “Heard he’s looking for a Holocron.”

“A Holocron, hm?” Mihawk echoed. “What else do you know?”

“A Jedi Holocron,” the redhead persisted on his intel, leaning in conspiringly.

The masked one added, “We heard it might have locations of all the Force-sensitive kids.”

“Oh?” Mihawk turned to them, feigning interest. Honestly, hunting children wasn’t something Mihawk liked doing, and he’d only been faking it as an Inquisitor. The only good thing was that he was so strong that Sengoku and Akainu thought he shouldn’t be subjected to hunting Padawans who hadn’t even completed their training. They’d at least send Mihawk after two powerful Jedi—one of whom butted heads with Mihawk a lot before the Great Jedi Purge, but Mihawk had convinced Sengoku to recruit him as an Inquisitor instead; the other was Shanks.

After learning from Shanks that Buggy was his brother figure in the Jedi Order, Mihawk was relieved he spared Buggy. Shanks might be a little more open to reconnecting with the Force with Mihawk’s guidance...

Still, to uphold the image of Inquisitors among the pirates, Mihawk continued to act intrigued by the Holocron. The actual best part was that it’d lead Mihawk back to Shanks. He asked, “Where is it?”

“Somewhere in the Lothal system. They say there’s a Jedi Temple there,” the redhead said.

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at them, sipping his now-served blossom wine. “If you know where it is, why didn’t you try hunting it and giving it to the Empire? They would’ve paid you handsomely for it.”

The masked one muttered, “We can’t beat Shanks.”

“He wins every fight somehow,” The redhead complained. “I lost an arm.”

“He did that to you?” Mihawk asked, now genuinely interested.

“Might’ve been the first mate,” the masked one said, glancing at his friend’s modded arm.

The redhead hissed at him, “He uses a kriffing blaster! Shanks is the only one on there with a sword!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mihawk muttered, impatient. “The Holocron is on Lothal?”

The masked blonde shrugged. “It should be in the system, at least.”

“Okay.” Mihawk finished his blossom wine and dropped some Imperial credits on the bar—half for the bartender, half for the two pirates. “Thank you for the wine and the information. Your rewards.”

The two young pirates eagerly took their share and began arguing with the bartender for his share as Mihawk took his leave. The prospect that Shanks might’ve been the one to cut off this young pirate’s arm was quite interesting. He wondered how long ago this happened. He likely didn’t use the Force in this confrontation, which meant Shanks was still very strong as a combatant. That was to be expected—he had to find a way to protect himself without the Force as a pirate.

Mihawk began making his way back to where he’d left his starfighter to get refuelled. He waved off the Anzellan scraping off its carbon scoring, giving him a few credits as payment. The Anzellan scurried off, eager to make more credits tending to a new client, and Mihawk got into his ship—once again using the Coffin, his Lancer-class pursuit craft. He set coordinates for Lothal and took off from Port Borgo.

While waiting in hyperspace, he closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings on his connection with Shanks. The past two times they’d dropped in on each other, it’d been by accident. Mihawk wanted to figure out how to do it consciously.

Shrouded in the darkness behind his eyelids and hearing only his breathing within the confines of his helmet, Mihawk kept his heart steady and slow, reaching out across the galaxy to find Shanks’s specific life force. He felt like holding a dancing flame within your palms, crackling with potential and an unseen power. He could feel how strong Shanks was in the Force...

He felt an inkling of a familiar life force and latched on to it, furrowing his eyebrows as he focussed harder on chasing it. He followed it until he reached what looked like Corellia’s Coronet City. He could see the streets and industrial buildings and looked down to see Uta wearing a pink poncho.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

“Shanks.”

Shanks jolted, his eyes widening as he turned around to see Mihawk standing behind him, helmet on. “You’re here again.”

“Shanks?” Uta asked, glancing around.

Shanks looked at his surroundings, confused. He could see the interior of a starfighter in the midst of hyperspace. “Where did you take me? Where’s Uta?”

“Still with you,” Mihawk assured. “Your consciousness is here with me, though.”

“Send me back!” Shanks demanded.

Mihawk replied, “You can go back any time. You’re not my prisoner.”

Shanks exhaled through his nose, nervous to be within Mihawk’s ship. It felt odd to vaguely feel what Mihawk was, and even stranger to both be aware he was still in his starfighter and seeing Coronet City around him. Uta had pushed Shanks into an alley since he was no longer conscious in person.

“Why did you give this to me?” Shanks asked, pulling out Alber’s com-link.

“What? Was he not heading to Naboo?” Mihawk asked, turning away nonchalantly. “I thought you were interested in that.”

Shanks’s eyes widened. “How did you know about...”

“I work for the Empire. I’d know if another Mandalorian was hired to protect an Imperial politician. I thought it wouldn’t be long until Kaido found Alber out, and I knew Naboo’s senator was looking for a new bodyguard. I pulled some strings. This way, I can watch Alber and he’ll be more effectively protected from Kaido,” Mihawk replied. “As for you... You told me you believed you were from there. I can contact Alber through our Imperial connections, but as for your connection with Naboo, I believe Alber is more useful to you than me.”

Shanks stared at the com-link, confused. “Why did you help me?”

“I want you to reconnect with the Force.”

“No,” Shanks instantly denied, pacing around the small cockpit. “I told you! I don’t want to! Bad things happen to the people I care about, I can’t control it.”

“You can, you just need to remember your training,” Mihawk insisted. “In fact, I can teach you.”

“I don’t want you to teach me! I want to live normally!” Shanks argued.

“Don’t you want the Empire gone?” Mihawk pointed out.

“I do!” Shanks snapped. “But is this really necessary? I’m willing to work with you but I don’t want to use the Force—”

“The Five Emperors are all strong in the Force. So is Supreme Chancellor Imu,” Mihawk angrily said, trying to get his point across to Shanks. “When I realised we were Force dyads, I wanted to take advantage of our connection to boost our strengths in the Force. Together, we stand a chance against all six of them. Akainu and Sengoku will not be as difficult to beat on my own, but unfortunately, I need you for the six people above them.”

Shanks chewed his bottom lip in hesitation, contemplating what Mihawk told him. “There has gotta be other Jedi out there stronger than me.”

“It’s about our connection!” Mihawk insisted. “It doesn’t matter how weak you may be now. Don’t you feel even slightly stronger now that we have met?”

Shanks admittedly did. He could feel the Force tingling in his fingers even now. The last time he and Mihawk were physically together, Shanks even used the Force to save Mihawk from getting shot by Queen. “Yes.”

“I can teach you to control the Force better,” Mihawk offered. “You just need to be open to it.”

Shanks stared at his hands, feeling fear spreading through his person again. He could feel Mihawk attempting to project his own calmness upon him but Shanks rejected, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to work with someone who uses the Dark Side. That’s the part I don’t want to engage with.”

“Everyone can use the Dark Side!” Mihawk reasoned, clearly getting a bit frustrated. “It’s what Master Rayleigh taught me. Didn’t Master Roger teach you the same? The Light cannot exist without the Dark, and vice versa.”

Roger did tell him that. Any Master could tell their Padawan that. The Dark Side was seductive and powerful, so any Light Side user could be prone to falling for it if they weren’t careful. Shanks wasn’t careful and killed so many people in his emotional outrage. It made him stronger, but Shanks didn’t know if he wanted to be capable of such a thing, knowing he couldn’t control it. He felt scared.

“So I just won’t use either,” Shanks declared. “I can team up with you to kill the Five Emperors and Imu, but I’m not—”

“If you won’t use the Force, then this alliance will fail,” Mihawk said through gritted teeth. He shoved Shanks hard enough that he felt his back hit the wall of an alley in Coronet City.

He blinked and Mihawk disappeared, as well as the interior of his starfighter. Shanks was back in the alley with Uta who asked, concerned, “Are you okay?”

“Uta, I’m sorry I zoned out,” Shanks apologised sincerely. “Mihawk wanted to talk to me.”

“What did he say?”

“We shouldn’t talk about it in public,” Shanks said, grabbing her hand. “Come, let’s get back to Beck and the others.”

Chapter Text

MIHAWK

Mihawk felt deeply frustrated at the red-haired pirate. He couldn’t understand why Shanks was so afraid of the Dark Side. It was true the Jedi believed they should stay away from it. It was too easy to get sucked in by promises of more power, the ability to defy nature and take what you most desire. Yet, in a galaxy so harsh as this, Mihawk didn’t understand why Shanks wouldn’t want that power. Did he not have people to protect like Uta and his crew? The power would help him, no? Why couldn’t he accept that the Dark Side was more useful than the Light, and as long as he controlled himself, it would be beneficial and not detrimental. He could be like Mihawk.

After the talk with the two pirates at Port Borgo, Mihawk went to Lothal to see what Holocron Shanks seemingly wanted.

Lothal was a bit of an enigma. When the Empire came into power, it was one of the few planets that welcomed them. Due to the planet being largely ignored during the Clone Wars, their attempts to fight off plagues among their livestock and a crippling drought had gone unanswered by the Galactic Republic (far more interested in fighting the Clone Wars.) Their economy was crumbling and they hoped the Empire would bring prosperity. However, even in such a short time, it seemed like it’d backfired.

From what Mihawk found from Imperial files on Lothal, the planet seemed to be nothing special at first until scouts discovered starship-building materials and a source of Kyber crystals—known to be powerful enough to fuel lightsabers. Mining facilities, an Imperial garrison, and droid factories were unleashed on Lothal barely a week after the resources were found, and the planet was rapidly colonised.

Mihawk stepped out of the Coffin, glancing around the garrison’s landing pad where he’d been permitted to land. An officer came over with a polite smile and greeted, “Good afternoon, Inquisitor First Brother. I am Admiral Issho, the new commander of this sector. I overlook all Imperial activity on Lothal.”

“New?”

“The previous was released from his position for... fraternising with the locals,” Issho explained.

Mihawk huffed and rolled his eyes. Imperial officials assumed they owned everything they wanted. He looked over his newly-arrived company. The admiral was blind with a large X-shaped scar stretching across his face that sealed his eyes shut, and was guided around by a droid and accompanied by two stormtroopers. They stiffened slightly when Mihawk scoffed, making him wonder how intimidating his voice sounded when filtered through his helmet’s voice modulator. 

“May I ask why you are here?” Issho inquired. “Did the Five Emperors have a problem with how things are being run?”

“No,” Mihawk responded. He lied, “I was sent here to run a check for potential Force-sensitives, given the recent rise in protests you seem to be fielding.”

“We’ve been doing our best to keep peace with the people,” Issho told him. “The rowdier ones get arrested. They’re more calm with me in charge than the last officer.”

Mihawk nodded once. “Sounds good.”

“Doonium and Kyber crystal extractions have been going smoothly—”

“I’m not interested in that, save it for Grand Moff Borsalino or someone else,” Mihawk interrupted, turning on his heel to leave. “Refuel my ship while I’m gone.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

After Shanks told Beckman and Uta about what Mihawk and he discussed, he was left with one question: Was he more important than the galaxy? Could he pick his resolution to be Force-less over the galaxy’s safety? If he knew picking up the Force again and helping Mihawk would lead to the galaxy being freed, could he turn his back on everyone?

The obvious answer, of course, was no. In his brain, Shanks knew this was best for everybody–his crew and Uta. His heart, however, thought about his Master that he failed to save, and then killed so many people so pointlessly.

If he let Mihawk train him back to his full Force capabilities, what if his heart took over and he went out of control again? Would he do more harm than good if he stepped into the fight?

He pushed the moral dilemma to the back of his mind as far as he could, focusing instead on his new ship. Franky and Iceburg had secured them a Gozanti-class cruiser—huge with a length of almost sixty-four metres.

Franky led the Red Hair Pirates around the ship proudly, listing excitedly, “Do I have a treat for you! This ship’s got a class three hyperdrive, the backup’s class twelve; three engines—and the good kind, the Girodyne ion ones; an extra starfighter docked so you can use it for recon; and the armament’s pretty good. I’ll even do some free mods for you to amp up the armament on her! Then you guys will come back less for repairs.”

Shanks chuckled in amazement, looking over the Red Force II. “Looks amazing, Franky. I can’t believe you found this so quickly.”

“Not too hard. I asked some other pirate buddies and they helped raid this from a Black Sun base,” Franky said dismissively. “Robin’s crew mates are pretty young, but they’re a force.”

“Young pirates, eh?” Shanks said thoughtfully, running a hand over the ship's lower hull to admire it. “They’ll give us a run for our credits, that’s for sure.”

“The captain’s not too much older than your girl,” Franky said with a grin, nodding down at Uta. “Maybe you’ll run into Luffy out there in the stars.”

“Hope so! If a teenager managed to steal this? That’s wizard,” Shanks said, wondering about the kind of teen pirate who could rob an entire ship from a crime syndicate like Black Sun. “How much for this?”

“The model costs 200,000 credits, but it was stolen by Black Sun, so let’s say 100,000 to pay for mods and Luffy’s work,” Franky replied, patting dust off his hands.

“You got a deal!” Shanks agreed. “How long will you need for mods?”

“Your guy Yasopp and I already preordered the new armament ahead of time so I can finish them off today with Paulie and the others,” Franky estimated. “You should be able to fly off by tonight.”

“Great, thank you and your brother so much, man,” Shanks said sincerely. “I’ll have Beck wire the credits to Iceburg.”

“Oh, and if you want to go inside and get to know the ship, go ahead. We’re gonna work on the exterior. You can also start stocking up the interior,” Franky offered before turning away to call the other mechanics like Paulie to come help him mod the Red Force II.

After Shanks distributed orders—Beckman to wire the 100,000 credits to Galley-La, and the rest of the men to move belongings to the Red Force II—he took Uta up to see the inside of the ship.

Unlike the previous freighter they had, this new cruiser used a passenger elevator instead of a lowered gangway. Shanks and Uta were brought up to a room—one end had a little tech workshopping table, and the other led to the airlock and another room. The other room was identified on the floor plan as a droid stable, but given how they had no droids on the team, Shanks debated just turning that into a storage room.

“This ship is so big!” Uta exclaimed, following Shanks around the first deck. The main hall led to the escape pods, cargo hatch, a command room, and starfighter fuel and equipment storage. “It reminds me of the Star Destroyers we had!”

Shanks smiled down at her, leading her up to the second deck. “Did you enjoy it on those ships?”

“Yeah, they were so big. Master Gordon and I would spend a lot of time exploring ours!”

“What was yours called?”

“Elegia,” Uta answered, looking around the second deck. There, they found the cockpit, refresher, a briefing room, sick bay, armoury, more storage rooms, cargo bay, and captain’s quarters.

Uta ran around Shanks’s new room, amazed. “It’s like my room on the Elegia!”

“Ah. Do you want this room, then?” Shanks offered.

Uta flushed and shook her head. “No, the captain should have the captain’s quarters. I just thought the layout looked like how mine did. To be honest, I’d like to sleep with other people around, so I don’t mind sleeping in the cabins.”

“It's your choice,” Shanks complied, leaving the quarters alongside her. “If you change your mind, I’d happily give you my room.”

“You’re so nice, Shanks,” Uta said, beaming up at him.

“Hey, you’re with us now!” Shanks pointed out with a smile. “I need to take care of all my friends and that includes you.” Uta smiled, and Shanks thought she felt more relaxed now.

At the third and final deck were just the galley, lounge, laundry room, another refresher, and cabins for other crew. Though each cabin held two bunks, there were enough that nobody had to share with anyone. At the very least, Beck and Uta shouldn’t have to, and Shanks wanted Hongo’s cabin near Uta’s.

“Pick one and it’s yours,” Shanks said, gently tapping Uta’s back to urge her forward.

“I don’t have to share?” Uta asked, amazed.

“There are enough rooms to go around!” Shanks reasoned, nodding. Uta excitedly ran through the cabins, taking a careful look at each one, though they all looked exactly the same.

“I’ll take this one,” Uta finally decided, stopping before the one closest to the stairs. She explained, “In case anything happens, I can get to you really fast!”

Shanks grinned, patting her head. “Okay, kid. Why don’t you go down and grab your stuff from the first ship and start moving them in, then?”

“Yippee!” Uta cheered, running off to exit the ship. Shanks returned to the second deck to sit in his quarters, picturing where he’d put what.

He laid down in the bed. It was rather soft—just how he liked it, though he’d probably get a hammock hung up in the room. He closed his eyes, trying to relax and organise his thoughts.

His thoughts inevitably drifted to Dracule Mihawk. He wondered if it was too late to accept his offer to retrain him in the Force. An image of Mihawk formed in his mind, a hazy picture of black hair and piercing yellow eyes. He wondered if Mihawk was fully human, he’d never seen eyes like that before. Sith eyes? Perhaps it was simply a rare eye colour... What of the rings? A simple aesthetic mutation? He pictured Mihawk’s unique angular facial hair, and his features slowly getting covered up by his helmet. His bright red visor and black-painted beskar. His sleek Mandalorian armour and circular lightsaber hilt. The way the beskar glinted in the sunlight.

Shanks opened his eyes and found himself standing behind Mihawk in the middle of a semi-barren land. He didn’t have his helmet on.

He held his breath, hoping Mihawk couldn’t feel him there. He glanced around, unsure what to do. He hadn’t fully decided if he wanted to be retrained.

Mihawk suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Shanks. “Hello, Red Hair.”

Shanks straightened up. No fear. “Hello, Hawk Eyes.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of Mihawk’s mouth. “‘Hawk Eyes’, hm? I haven’t heard that one before.”

“They remind me of the Drayberian hawks,” Shanks explained.

Mihawk huffed, glancing at the ground momentarily. “We have hawks on Mandalore. Shriek-hawks. The eyes are black or red, though.” After a second passed, Mihawk muttered with a frown, “What do you want, Shanks?”

“I don’t know,” Shanks answered honestly. “I was resting in my bunk... and then I started thinking about you.”

Mihawk turned away, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and continued walking ahead. Shanks followed him instinctively. Mihawk called out, “This has been nice. Now get lost.”

“I’ve been thinking about your offer,” Shanks pushed on.

That gave Mihawk some pause. “Well?”

“You promise you can help me control it?” Shanks asked.

“I can,” Mihawk said, turning to once again fully face Shanks.

“If I...” Shanks hesitated, wondering if he should ask someone else instead. However, if he and Mihawk were equals in the Force, then Mihawk was probably the only one who could effectively carry out his request. “If I lose control of my powers and hurt my crew on accident, will you kill me?”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “I’m really curious.”

“About?”

“Why does it bother you so much that you killed those criminals? They killed your Master,” Mihawk pointed out. “I didn’t feel anything when I killed Master Rayleigh’s murderers.”

Shanks looked surprised. “You... hunted them?”

He shrugged, continuing to walk forwards. “Why shouldn’t I? I may not have been Rayleigh’s student by then, but he was still the one who guided me in my youth.”

“You think Master Rayleigh would’ve wanted you to do that?”

“I don’t think it matters. He’s dead. Sparing them doesn’t bring him back,” Mihawk muttered. “It does, however, ease your own conscience. Perhaps it was too late, but we did something.”

Shanks contemplated Mihawk’s words and said, “I don’t agree.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, we both studied the Force. I think deep down, we both know death isn’t the end,” Shanks reasoned. “Even in his death, I want to continue being a Padawan Master Roger would be proud of. He wouldn’t have wanted me to kill all those people—if not for their sake, then for mine.”

“So what’s your problem? Your conscience cannot handle it?” Mihawk questioned. “You prefer sparing others, give them a second chance to destroy your life?”

“I’m not letting them destroy my life!” Shanks protested.

“Let’s say you let them go that day, after Roger died,” Mihawk said. “Let’s say they kicked you around, left worse injuries on you than these scars. Maybe they cut your arm off; sell you to the Hutts. Who knows?”

Shanks squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop.”

“Maybe they kill you after Roger gave his life to protect you from them,” Mihawk persisted. “Or maybe they decide one life is enough and toss you out on the streets of Cantonica, heartbroken and grieving. You return to the Jedi Temple to report your Master’s death. You watch them ignore it because Crimson Dawn is an intimidatingly big crime syndicate and it’s easier to let them go than avenge Roger. What then? What will you do?”

“Okay, dank farrik, I get it!” Shanks snapped. “I get it, alright? I’m just... I’m not that guy! Maybe for you, you like it. Killing people is second nature to you. That’s great. I’m not like that. It weighs on me. I don’t like hurting people.”

“A true Jedi,” Mihawk scoffed. “We really are opposites.”

“The Light Side versus the Dark,” Shanks murmured. He could see Mihawk’s point about how there were really no good options in that situation. Roger gave his life for Shanks to make it out safely, and he got what he wanted.

The two men stood in the silence for a few minutes, both debating what to say next.

“Where are you?” Shanks finally asked.

“Am I going to train you or not?” Mihawk asked impatiently. Shanks chewed his lip, trying to come to a decision. As he did so, Mihawk added, “I also wonder why you’re so fixated on losing control. Do you think your grasp on the Force is so weak?”

“I haven’t used it in years. I lost control when I was, well, the most in control of my abilities I ever was,” Shanks explained. “I don’t know if I still remember how to do it.”

Mihawk nodded once. “I’ll teach you. Just cooperate with me. You’ll be able to protect your crew better, too.”

Shanks held his breath and slowly nodded. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

“I’m on Lothal,” Mihawk told him, walking ahead with his cape billowing in the wind, “hunting that Holocron you want so badly. I’ll be here until the end of a standard day. See you later.”

“The Holocron?” Shanks echoed absently. He blinked and found himself back in his bed when he reopened his eyes.

He hurriedly got up and disembarked the ship, wanting to find Beckman. He spotted him directing other crew mates to move cargo and waved him over. Beckman gave a few last orders before he walked over, giving him a curious look. “Yes, Chief?”

“As soon as the mods are done and everything’s loaded onto the Red Force II, we’re leaving for Lothal,” Shanks told him. “Tell everyone to pick up the pace, moving the cargo. Oh, and tell Hongo to take one of the cabins next to the ones nearest to the stairs. I need to go do something.”

“Got it,” Beckman said, nodding. “What are you busy with in the meantime?”

“I’ll take the starfighter, I have to pick up something a city over before we leave,” Shanks said, patting Beckman’s shoulder to thank him for taking charge in his absence as he headed towards the starfighter attached.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk soon approached what looked like an abandoned Jedi Temple in the snowy region of Lothal. It was tall and shaped like a cone, constructed of ageing stone.

If a Holocron were somewhere on Lothal, it would be here.

“Hey!” A man called out. Mihawk narrowed his eyes and turned his helmeted head towards him. The man looked like a local shopkeeper or trader. “Are you the buyer?”

“The buyer?”

“Of the Holocron,” the man clarified, holding a small bag. With the Force, Mihawk could feel that there was indeed a cubic Holocron inside—it was a Jedi one.

Mihawk came closer, taking the bag from the man to get a proper look at the Holocron. Looking at it, he wondered if Shanks even knew what was in it, or if he was just chasing it to make sure the Empire didn’t get their hands on more Jedi resources than they already had—that was, the entirety of the Jedi Temple’s database.

“Where’s my crate of meiloorun?” The trader asked, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

“How did you find this?” Mihawk inquired.

“I found it in there,” the trader explained, pointing at the Jedi Temple. “Not sure who left it there, but I thought someone out there would want it.”

Mihawk nodded, putting the Holocron back into the bag and claiming it. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Wait, my meiloorun?” The trader asked again, nervous.

Mihawk frowned at him, though the man couldn’t see it through his helmet anyway. “Are you an idiot? I have the Empire’s symbol on my shoulders. What makes you think I’m the buyer you were waiting for? You’re lucky I’m not reporting you to the admiral. Go home.”

The trader swallowed in fear, and Mihawk could feel him fretting about losing the Holocron to the wrong “buyer”. He started running off, desperate for Mihawk not to kill him.

Once he was gone, Mihawk tried using the Force to unlock the Holocron—they were programmed with a security mechanism that made them openable only by Force users. He baulked when he realised he couldn’t open it.

“What the hell?” Mihawk tried again, focusing harder. He couldn’t figure it out. He used to be able to open them when he was still studying under Master Rayleigh. What changed?

The Dark Side? Maybe he couldn’t open Light Side Jedi Holocrons anymore...

He gritted his teeth and settled on a rock formation to wait for Shanks. Only he or Uta could open it, so he’d have to wait for their arrival.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

Shanks treaded carefully through the alleyway, watching his pockets and pouch carefully as kids ran past him. Under Big Mom’s crime syndicate, her children had sticky fingers and robbed any naive person who dared walk the streets of Corellia. He wasn’t carrying anything Big Mom would be interested in, but these kids probably wouldn’t mind pocketing his credits.

He made it to the building he was looking for and snuck in, looking for the exact apartment.

Back when Master Roger was still alive, he’d taken him to Corellia a few times. Roger had an apartment here that he wanted to live in permanently once he retired from being a Jedi. Shanks even envisioned a life where he left the Jedi Order with Roger, and he could have him as his father and live out the rest of the days as family. Maybe Buggy would come too.

After Roger died, Shanks didn’t move into it—it didn’t feel right. Instead, he’d moved to Tatooine for several years until he got caught, then he felt ready to move into Roger’s Corellian apartment. He’d quietly been paying rent for it even when he’d put together the Red Hair Pirates, unable to let go of this physical manifestation of the life Roger wanted for him.

He left something here for safekeeping, knowing Big Mom has no idea he owned this apartment as it was still under Roger’s name and left it alone.

The door slid open and Shanks stepped in. All the furniture was still the same as before, but the air was stale now. Shanks made a beeline for what would’ve been his room, opening the desk drawer to pull out what he’d come here for.

“It’s time,” Shanks muttered, pressing the button on the dark green hilt. A bright white blade shot out of his lightsaber’s emitter, illuminating the once-dark room.

Here are Mihawk and Shanks's designs for this fic (feat. Uta)! I'll have more stuff like their lightsabers and maybe other characters in the future :)

Chapter Text

SHANKS

When the Red Hair Pirates reached Lothal’s atmosphere, it looked different from the last time they were here. There was an eyesore of an Imperial garrison set up near the city. Shanks could see citizens scurrying around in fear, trying to stay out of the eyeshot of patrolling stormtroopers.

Shanks commanded Building Snake, “Don’t register with the Imps. Fly out to the plains and land there, hide the ship. We’ll look for Mihawk on foot.”

Building Snake followed his instructions, landing the Red Force somewhere out of range of the Empire. It was already typical for pirates to land their ships in spots easily hidden from Republic officials, so it was nothing new with a different authority in power.

Once Shanks was satisfied with the Red Force’s hiding spot, he distributed several orders—some men would go into town in disguises to pick up any supplies needed, some would stay with the ship like Beckman, and Uta would come with him to see Mihawk at the Jedi Temple. Since Mihawk had claimed the Holocron he was looking for, Shanks supposed he was at their meeting place, the temple.

Beckman asked, “Are you sure you want to go with Uta only? I can leave Yasopp in charge and go with you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Shanks assured. He had his lightsaber hidden under his sash—if things with Mihawk didn’t pan out, then there was no need to open a door he couldn’t close. His Force-sensitivity and Jedi history weren’t necessary to know yet unless Mihawk and he fully committed to training. “Just hold the fort down. I’ll go see Mihawk.”

Beckman didn’t argue, only nodding and telling Uta to be careful. Shanks took the speeder bike and told Uta to hang on tightly to him as he drove in the direction of the Jedi Temple, somewhere in the North.

Lothal had a Jedi Temple that he’d seen in person once, long ago when he’d come here with Roger. It was constructed from a tall stone spire where a vergence was found. The temple was usually used to test one’s preparedness to become a Jedi.

Uta asked, “Have you been to that temple before?”

“Once, when I was younger,” Shanks replied. Buggy had gone off with Master Arlong by then. “Master Roger brought me here as part of our training. Of course, he took me to the city, but the temple was our main destination. I was feeling conflicted about my Force abilities back then because I was getting quite strong in the more combative areas, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Roger wanted me to meditate and get some clarity on that here.”

Uta nodded as the temple slowly came into view. Shanks could feel Mihawk’s presence ahead. She asked, “Did you learn anything?”

“Being stronger in the Force means I get stronger in combat, yes, but...” Shanks trailed off as his lesson got pulled back to the forefront of his memory. “It also means I can protect my friends better.”

The speeder bike slowed to a stop in front of the temple where Mihawk, once again dressed in his full Inquisitor uniform, including his helmet, sat on a rock formation near the entrance. Shanks and Uta disembarked the bike and approached Mihawk, who stood up to greet them. The Holocron was still in his hands.

“Can we talk alone for a bit?” Mihawk started.

Shanks answered by turning to Uta and requesting, “Stay by the bike for a few minutes, okay? I’ll talk to Mihawk in private. If anything happens, call out to me.”

“You know I can take care of myself, right?” Uta checked, patting her lightsaber hilt.

“Well, I worry,” Shanks said with a smile, patting her head before he walked off to get closer to Mihawk.

They walked a few paces further to get out of her earshot before Mihawk said, “I want to know how serious you are about what you said. If it was an impulsive decision, make your final one be known now.”

“I’m serious,” Shanks said. “On the way here, I reflected a bit more. You’re right. If I was stronger, I could protect my crew better. And if you can really help me control it, then maybe I won’t screw up.”

Mihawk nodded, then held the Holocron towards him. “Open it.”

Shanks stared at it. “You can’t?”

“No,” Mihawk muttered. Shanks imagined he had a wry smile under the helmet. “It seems I’ve strayed too far to the Dark Side to open this.”

“Should we get Uta to open it?” Shanks asked, unsure if he could open it with how detached he was from the Force now.

“No,” Mihawk repeated. “I want you to do it. We will ask her if you really can't, but I want you to try. Sit on this rock, meditate, and focus on opening the Holocron.”

Shanks nodded and sat cross-legged on the rock, closing his eyes as Mihawk placed the Holocron in the space in front of him. He took a deep breath, picturing the cubic Holocron in his mind. He thought of all the times in his youth when he opened Holocrons so thoughtlessly. He reached out to when he felt like one with the Force.

He felt Mihawk’s presence beside him, his connection to the Force thrumming like a power generator for Shanks’s. He could feel himself feeding off Mihawk’s strength in the Force, and Mihawk offering it up to him to borrow.

Shanks heard a soft click and cracked one eye open to see the Holocron slowly breaking open to show a small projection.

“I opened it!” Shanks exclaimed, surprised and proud of even such a simple achievement.

“Well done,” Mihawk said, watching as the hologram slowly stabilised and formed an image of a familiar Jedi Master.

“Master Newgate!” Shanks recognised the elderly man with a white beard. Mihawk didn’t seem to recognise him, so Shanks supposed he rarely ever interacted with other Jedi.

“I am Master Edward Newgate,” Newgate began, standing sombre in the small hologram. “The Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, and the Empire has taken their place. This message is a warning and a reminder to any Jedi who survived the massacre: Trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret... but be strong. We will be challenged in many ways: friendships, faith, and trust. We must persevere. In time, I believe a new era and hope will emerge. Perhaps you may feel tempted to part ways with the Force and distance yourselves, but it is through our connection that we can find the strength to carry on, keep each other safe and find our way back to one another. Don’t be afraid. May the Force be with you.”

The image of Newgate fizzled out as the message ended, leaving both men staring at the floating opened cube. Shanks asked absently, “Did you know what happened during the Jedi Purge?”

“I wasn’t there,” Mihawk said. “I was fighting on Felucia when the war ended, and then the order was given. However, it seemed like the Supreme Chancellor Imu already had her eyes on me. My clones’ orders were simply to arrest me. I could have defeated them and escaped, but I wanted to know what the Empire wanted from me, so I complied, and they took me back to Coruscant. I was offered the role of Inquisitor, which I took in order to gain a high ranking in the Empire and protect other Mandalorians.”

“Even when you’re a Jedi, you still prefer being a Mandalorian,” Shanks murmured thoughtfully.

“Being a Mandalorian is in my blood, and weapons are my religion. I am that before anything else,” Mihawk said. “However, I returned to Coruscant in time to see Jedi corpses still lying around the Temple. I didn’t recognise many of them because I never liked hanging around the Temple, but it was still staggering to see corpses of old highly-respected Jedi Masters and younglings who hadn’t even had their first day as a Padawan yet.”

Shanks closed the Holocron. “How can you bring yourself to work for them after seeing what they’ve done?”

“How does a lowly mechanic work for a boss they hate?” Mihawk replied. “Working for them doesn’t mean I like them. Look at us. We both hate the Empire. However, one of us gets unquestioned access to most Imperial facilities and has high authority within the Empire, and the other would get arrested on sight. Now do you see why I do what I do?”

Shanks couldn’t argue. It was true that to achieve Mihawk’s goal of protecting Mandalorians, taking on a high rank in the Empire would be his best shot. Trust in him had to be high if Imu handed him the role herself. Shanks wasn’t surprised by that, considering how little Mihawk seemed to have interacted with other Jedi. Imu probably relied on his lack of attachment to them to convince Mihawk to turn on the Jedi and hunt them. Mihawk then counted on Imu’s high opinion of him not to send him after small fry, and then he could try recruiting any strong Jedi he was sent after to his mission of defeating Imu and the Five Emperors.

Mihawk made it so Imu would send potential allies, her future opponents, straight to him. Shanks huffed, admittedly impressed. “This all worked out so well for you, huh? She delivered me right to your doorstep?” 

“Actually, I was sent after someone else before you,” Mihawk said. “Your brother, Buggy.”

Shanks stiffened. Buggy wasn’t the weakest in the Force, but he couldn’t beat Shanks in any of their duels. Once he started training under Arlong instead, Shanks wasn’t as sure about his skills anymore. Arlong honestly wasn’t that strong a Jedi—he was always too aggressive, and Buggy didn’t particularly excel there. Shanks didn’t think he could hold up against Mihawk in a serious fight—

Mihawk cut through his thoughts and said, “I convinced Grand Inquisitor Sengoku to recruit him as an Inquisitor. He is still alive and well now.”

Shanks felt relieved to hear that. It was true that his and Buggy’s relationship had faded over time when they were both focused on their training under different Masters. After Roger’s death, Shanks ran off without saying goodbye to Buggy. He probably thought he was dead, too... “Thanks for saving him.”

“I’m not particularly eager about killing other Jedi, too, you know,” Mihawk pointed out. “It was coincidental that he was your sworn brother, but it proves my intentions to you, does it not?”

It did. It was crystal clear that Mihawk’s only goal was to destroy the Empire from the inside, and he was trying to win Shanks over by bringing up his act of sparing Buggy and how he connected Shanks to Alber, who could connect him to Naboo if he wanted.

Shanks nodded, handing the Holocron back to Mihawk. “It does. Okay. How are we gonna do this? You’re gonna have your own Imperial duties to fulfil, so it’s not like you can fly with us full-time to train me.”

“I don’t need to,” Mihawk said. “Reach out to me in the Force. We will take advantage of our ability to communicate across the galaxy and train that way. I can also tip you off on anything new happening within the Empire.”

Shanks had almost forgotten they could visit one another whenever they wanted. It made for a very convenient training schedule, and they now had a man on the inside who could help them avoid running into other Inquisitors or Imperial patrols.

“You’re right. We’ll do that, then,” Shanks said, nodding to settle it. “Should we go into the temple?”

“What do you want to do that for?”

“I think I want to start reconnecting to the Force here, where it’s strong,” Shanks explained. “Besides, it’d be good for Uta to clear her head here, too.”

As Shanks turned on his heel to return to the bike, Mihawk asked, “May I see your lightsaber?”

Of course, Mihawk knew he had it on him. Shanks spun back around and took his hilt from where he’d hidden it under his sash. Mihawk took the dark green hilt with a golden knuckle guard and looked over it, taking in all the details.

“Can I see yours?” Shanks requested.

Without a word, Mihawk took his lightsaber off from where it was perched on his back, handing it to Shanks. Like the other Inquisitors, it was all black with a large circle connecting both ends, with only the emitters outside the circle’s radius. Shanks could fold it into a semicircle, turning the circle into a knuckle guard similar to his lightsaber’s. There was a small cross embossed into the hilt above the emitter buttons. Shanks asked, “Where’s your original hilt? Both of them.”

Mihawk muttered, “The Darksaber was usurped by the Empire when I became an Inquisitor and adopted this blade... I want to reclaim it. My original one is still with me. Was yours?”

“No, I left it in a drawer in Master Roger’s Corellia apartment,” Shanks clarified. They returned their lightsabers to each other and Shanks looked towards the Temple. “Now, let’s go inside, shall we?”

They walked towards the bike where Uta was waiting, and Mihawk mentioned, “I was told the Holocron contained names and home planets for young Force-sensitives. I’m a bit relieved that’s not the case. However, it makes me wonder if something like that is truly out there.”

“I’ll tell my men to keep ears out for it,” Shanks said. “If we can find that before the Empire, that’d be for the best.”

Uta perked up when she saw the men returning to her and asked, “How did your talk go?”

“Mihawk’s our ally now,” Shanks said with a smile. “We’re gonna go into the Temple for a bit, connect with the Force. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks learned about this temple when he was still an apprentice of Roger’s. It was established at least 3258 years ago by Jedi pilgrims, and was since adorned with artwork, tiling, and glyphs to form meditation rooms for future Jedi. This spot was naturally overflowing with the Force, making it an ideal place to build a Jedi Temple. The pilgrims built a grand entrance for the Temple, but then sank the spire into the ground to hide it from intruders.

Mihawk stared at the tall spire, muttering, “I only came here once, at the start of my apprenticeship with Rayleigh. He wanted to see if I was ready to become a Padawan after screwing over other Masters.”

“Yeah, Roger brought me here once, too,” Shanks said. He glanced down at Uta, who was still taking in the details. “What about you?”

“Master Gordon thought I was ready and strong in the Force, so he didn’t think I needed to come here,” Uta answered. She frowned in confusion as she looked around the spire. “Where’s the entrance?”

“It’s underground,” Mihawk explained, touching the ground to try and sense the mechanics better. “The Temple can only be accessed if a Master and Padawan work together to raise it from the ground.” He stood up, dusting his gloved hands, and requested, “Shanks, will you do it with me?”

Shanks looked at Uta, who was also looking back at him with an intrigued expression. He reminded, “I’m still really rusty. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to lift the spire.”

“I’ll be helping you,” Mihawk pointed out. “Besides, Uta hasn’t been a Padawan for that long. I think you have a better chance. It’ll help you get in tune with your Force abilities before we go in, anyway.” When Shanks still didn’t answer, Mihawk said impatiently, “We don’t have all day. I need to depart Lothal within a few hours. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Right, okay,” Shanks conceded, stepping up beside Mihawk in front of the Temple. Mihawk instructed him to hold his hands level and concentrate on sensing the corkscrew mechanic underground. Shanks closed his eyes, trying to zero in on the details. Bit by bit, he could feel the shape forming in his mind. The spire would have to be turned counterclockwise to reveal the Temple’s entrance.

Mihawk glanced at him. It was a bit off-putting that he still had his helmet on, but he might take it off inside the Temple. “Ready?”

Shanks nodded once, turning towards the spire. “Mhm.”

Mihawk and Shanks began focusing on rotating the spire. With the helmet on, Shanks couldn’t see Mihawk’s expression. To give himself more confidence, he pretended Mihawk was having as hard a time as he was, and then it felt more like a group effort, not like Mihawk was carrying them.

Next to Mihawk, Shanks felt a little stronger in the Force, feeling it flow through his body as he turned the spire in his mind’s eye.

“Wow!” Uta cried out. “It’s rising! Go, Shanks!”

Shanks tried not to get too excited, keeping his mind calm as he continued trying to turn the spire. He cracked one eye open and gaped when he saw it was spiralling upwards as he and Mihawk turned it counterclockwise to raise it above ground. He could see the beginnings of the concealed entrance now.

“Shanks,” Mihawk muttered. “Focus. If you get distracted, the Temple will sink, and we must start again.”

“Right,” Shanks said, nodding as he resumed his efforts. Mihawk reached over to lay one hand on the other man’s shoulder, and Shanks could almost feel Mihawk lending him a stronger connection to the Force. It felt a bit weird, like Mihawk’s energy was flowing through him as well, but it gave him a small surge of strength.

“You’re almost done!” Uta shouted encouragingly. It was true, the entrance was half-revealed now. Shanks felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead from exertion—it’d been so many years since he’d pushed himself this hard in using the Force, after all.

“Good job,” Mihawk muttered to Shanks. “Focus. We’re almost done.”

It was good that Mihawk was a powerful Force user. Shanks could focus, but he wasn’t sure if he could’ve brought the Temple up with someone weaker than the Inquisitor.

The Temple finally rose to its limit, and Shanks instantly crumbled to his knees, heaving in exhaustion. Mihawk glanced down at him and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit winded is all,” Shanks assured.

Uta ran over in worry, fretting, “Are you okay, Shanks? Stay here, I’ll get your waterskin!” She quickly claimed the waterskin Hongo attached to the speeder bike and brought it to Shanks. He uncapped it and drank the water, relieved to get some cool liquid in his throat.

He lowered it and wiped his mouth dry, suddenly embarrassed when he remembered Mihawk was still watching him. He said apologetically, “It’s been a long time since I had to do something with the Force that was that taxing.”

“I understand. Don’t be ashamed. It will be unhelpful for your training,” Mihawk said, walking towards the entrance. It was tall and imposing, with its brutalist architecture.

Shanks stood up when Mihawk suddenly turned back to them, saying, “Uta must stay outside.”

Shanks froze, bewildered. “What? Why?”

“If we go in, we risk being trapped inside,” Mihawk explained. “As I stand here longer, I recall more of my trip with Rayleigh. The Temple will test our bond as a mentor and apprentice. It would be safer for Uta to wait outside. Her Master is neither of us.”

Now that Mihawk mentioned it, Shanks vaguely remembered. It was so long ago, and he was so young, Shanks almost forgot what he had gone through when Roger brought him here. The Temple tormented the Padawan with visions through something called the Ordeal. If the apprentice is strong enough to overcome them, they would find their way safely back to their Master, who would wait in the entrance hall. If the Padawan failed, both of them would get trapped inside. Back then, Shanks was headstrong and confident, and he’d gone through the Ordeal without too much difficulty. Mihawk must have been the same.

Now, though, his and Mihawk’s friendship was new. It was true that they were bonded through the Force, but would that be enough?

Shanks asked, “Should we come back another time?”

“I don’t believe we need to wait,” Mihawk said. “Our connection should be strong enough. This will also help you work through your inhibitions and become open to relearning the Force. It’ll make you face your past. If you cannot will yourself to overcome them, our training will be futile. I will not go through with it if you are confident that you cannot find your way back to the entrance. However, be aware that your training will likely be harder and slower as a result.”

Shanks considered Mihawk’s points and reluctantly agreed with them. It was undoubtedly true that they needed to determine how well they connected, and they couldn’t rely on their being Force dyads. They had to bond; not just as entities in the Force, but as people. On top of that, Shanks needed to improve his relationship with the Force and reconcile with his past.

He nodded, drawing a breath to reinvigorate his determination, and said, “Okay, you’re right. I’m tired of letting my past fears rule me. Let’s do it.”

Mihawk told Uta to stay with the bike and to come and get him if anything happened. With that, the two men entered the Temple with Uta shouting good luck wishes and “may the Force be with you”. Shanks couldn’t help but wonder how Uta would do in the Ordeal, but perhaps that was a problem for next time, when he was strong enough to help Uta complete her training.

Inside, they came to a plain-looking meditation room. They knelt across from one another in the middle, and Shanks wordlessly watched as Mihawk finally took his helmet off. He carefully placed it on the ground beside him and regarded Shanks with a level gaze.

“Close your eyes and sense your surroundings,” Mihawk instructed. “When you see that a door of some kind has opened for you, go through it.”

Shanks nodded, slightly worried for what the Ordeal would show him, but determined to go through it for the sake of saving the galaxy from the Empire. He assured himself that Uta was safe outside and that Mihawk was here to look out for both of them, so he could focus on going through his trials.

MIHAWK

Mihawk closed his eyes, meditating across from Shanks. Through the Force, he could feel Shanks’s uncertainty but determination to focus. Mihawk had faith in his new ally—he had to. He had no choice but to believe in Shanks endlessly, now that he'd agreed to retraining. Shanks was now his ally, and Mihawk would help him be the strongest Jedi he could be at any cost.

“Hey, do you see that?”

Mihawk cracked an eye open. Shanks was staring off to the side, but Mihawk couldn’t see anything. “No.”

“Maybe that’s my doorway,” Shanks mumbled, standing up. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Be careful. Stay focused,” Mihawk reminded, closing his eyes again.

“If I fail, don’t get trapped with me. Break out of here, destroy the Temple if you have to, just make sure Uta’s safe,” Shanks requested. His voice got softer as he walked further away from Mihawk.

When there was only silence, Mihawk checked again to see that Shanks was gone. Nothing to do but wait for him now...

A few minutes passed, and then Mihawk sensed something. He warily opened his eyes and was surprised to see a glowing doorway ahead of him. Wasn’t he supposed to stay here and wait for Shanks? Why did he have an Ordeal of his own?

He couldn’t ignore it and wait for Shanks, it was becoming clear that he had to go through his own trial and then he and Shanks’s final bonding test would be to find each other afterwards and leave the Temple safely.

Hopefully, Uta would be fine for a while as they’d both be unreachable until they completed their Ordeals. Mihawk stood up and walked through his doorway, hoping this wouldn’t take too long.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks opened his eyes to see the interior of the place where the fateful fight in Canto Bight happened. When he saw the bodies of the Crimson Dawn members lying around him, he forced his eyes shut and turned away.

“Shanks.”

Shanks could recognise that voice anywhere. “Master Roger?”

“Open your eyes, boy.”

“No,” Shanks muttered, keeping them closed. He felt like the same scared guy he used to be.

Roger’s voice sounded soft, like he was coaxing a child. “They’re dead, you know.”

Shanks nodded, pressing his hands to his face. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He felt Roger squat down beside him. Shanks didn’t even want to look at him—what if he was full of blaster holes? What if he was perfectly fine? What if he looked healthy? What if he looked like a corpse?

Roger said, “You can’t keep your eyes closed forever. How will you move forward if you can’t see where you’re going?”

Shanks cracked one eye open—just enough to look at Roger. He had blaster holes in his Jedi robes, but otherwise looked fine. It felt surreal to see Roger talking and walking in front of him again, even if he knew this was nothing but an illusion. What was his ordeal supposed to be? This hardly seemed difficult beyond having to see his dead mentor and father figure in front of him.

If Roger were still alive, if this had been nothing more than a regular conversation with the real Roger, Shanks could’ve responded with a smart-ass answer like “use the Force”. Something about seeing his old Master before him, looking so real and alive... It made him feel like that lost little Padawan, still yearning for his guidance. He realised then his body felt smaller, and looking down, he was indeed young again. He felt around twelve. In a small voice, Shanks asked, “Master Roger, what are we doing here?”

“My Padawan... My boy,” Roger said fondly, patting his red hair. “You need to realise some things don’t go away.”

“You did,” Shanks muttered like a bitter child. He knew it was unfair. Roger didn’t choose to leave him.

Roger knelt before him now on one knee, blocking his view of the Crimson Dawn corpses lying around the room. He placed one hand on Shanks’ shoulder, a paternal act of comfort. “Some things don’t go away. People do. The trauma you braved when you served as a Jedi doesn’t, but you can choose to stay where it has placed you, or you can try to move forward. Yes, it will affect you. It might even affect you forever. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you more, but being affected by something doesn’t mean you stop your life for good. Do you understand?”

Shanks hated how small he felt. Helpless. “I don’t have the strength to move forward. I’m stuck, Master.”

“You’re not, Shanks,” Roger said. “If you don’t have the strength, find it elsewhere. What do you love? What drives you? Don’t focus on what you lost. What do you have?”

His friends, his new family—the Red Hair Pirates. Uta—his potential Padawan? The child who’d been carving a place in Shanks’s heart as of late. Perhaps one day he could see her as family, too. His friends around the galaxy like Iceburg, Franky, and Paulie. Others who may still be out there. His newest ally and possibly a friend, Dracule Mihawk.

“My people,” Shanks answered quietly.

“Look around, Shanks,” Roger advised. “Look what you did. Accept it and move forward.”

“I’m sorry I hurt people like that,” Shanks said remorsefully. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“You live in a warring galaxy, it happens... And even if you didn’t, hurt is inevitable,” Roger reminded. He moved to sit beside Shanks, who drew his knees up to his chin to hide his face in his folded arms. He didn’t want to look at what he’d done. “You may not like it, but that’s the way life goes. You hurt people, and people hurt you.”

“I’m not a violent person,” Shanks said. He hated how pathetic his voice sounded.

“I know you’re not. In all my years of living, I’ve never met someone more gentle than you,” Roger said. Shanks couldn’t see his face, but he was certain he was smiling. “I can feel it in the Force. It moves darkly around creatures with aggression and hate. With you, it’s light and fluid. Cutting yourself off from the Force doesn’t help you, Shanks. I know you’re not a bad person.”

Shanks argued, “I cut myself off so I wouldn’t hurt anyone again.”

“But think of all the people you could protect with your strength,” Roger insisted. “Shanks, you are a Jedi, a peacekeeper. You may have killed these people, and I’m sorry it was so aggressive, but they would have killed many more people that day. Remember, they had a bomb on them? They would have tried to attack the casino and capture people to sell into slavery. Instead, because of you, only one casualty surfaced that day.”

“But that person was you!” Shanks said, feeling his eyes heat up with tears of frustration. “I let you down! What does my strength in the Force matter if I wasn’t strong enough to save you?”

Roger touched his shoulder again, this time with such a firm grasp that Shanks looked up at him. He wanted Shanks to listen closely. He said, like it was simple, “People die. You can’t protect everyone, no matter how hard you try. The whole point is that you tried.” Shanks’s lower lip wavered, holding back his need to cry, and Roger stood up. “Padawan.”

“Yeah, Master Roger?”

“Stand up.”

Shanks looked up only for his face to fall even more with the sight of Roger holding his lightsaber out to him. The green hilt with the gold knuckle guard. He got up to his feet and took the hilt from him, still determined not to look at the corpses. He could see them in the corner of his eyes. “Master...”

“Look at the bodies and accept what you did,” Roger bargained, “or strike me down.”

Shanks’s eyes widened as he froze in place at the bizarre request. “What?”

“I won’t let you leave this temple until you do one or the other,” Roger said. “You will never be ready otherwise. You’re going to keep being haunted by what you did or didn’t do. So if you want to live, either kill me and accept that you could not save me, or look at the bodies and accept that you did it.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk emerged from the other side of the door into an alleyway. He recognised the brutalist architecture of Mandalore and, at the sounds of blasters, screaming, and explosions, Mihawk looked up to see Republic LAAT/i gunships and Mandalorian transports flying overhead, dropping Clone Troopers and Mandalorians. When he looked out of the alley, he saw countless dead or wounded Mandalorians and Clones.

This was the Siege of Mandalore. It’d happened mere hours before the Empire usurped control of the galaxy from the Galactic Republic. The Mandalorians broke their century-old treaty and enlisted the help of the Republic to push out a criminal who’d killed their pacifist senator and then attempted to take control of their planet.

The entirety of Clan Dracule died here.

Mihawk couldn’t figure out what his Ordeal was supposed to be. Surely, it wasn’t to save his family. He knew they were dead. The ones who were civilians died quickly, because they unfortunately lived near the battle. The fighters helped fight Death Watch members and were killed. No, it wasn’t to save them. He didn’t see the point anyway, since this wasn’t real.

Mihawk couldn’t help but wonder what Shanks’s Ordeal was. Was it as elusive as his?

He hadn’t been on Mandalore when the Siege happened. He was on Felucia, fighting the last battle of the war against the Separatists. This was entirely new for him to witness, and it looked horrifying. There should never be so many injured or deceased Mandalorians... Mihawk believed in maintaining Mandalore’s warrior heritage because he thought they could protect themselves better that way. Yet, knowing this war had happened because they craved so much fighting that they fought each other...

He had to admit that the pacifist senator Otohime had a point. She kept Mandalore safe from outsiders when she was around. The moment she died... Well, Mihawk didn’t have to do more than gesture at the chaos around him.

He looked down and saw he was in his original Mandalorian armour now. Consisting of beskar pieces painted dark red and black, his pauldrons held the signet of a flower confined within three circles—Clan Dracule’s symbol. His visor was a bright yellow that glowed in the dimly lit alleyway. His flight suit, like his current Inquisitor wear, was black or dark grey. Mihawk admitted he missed seeing his real armour. He wondered if he could ever repaint it to look like it used to, with its gorgeous, faint floral trims along the armour. Turning his right gauntlet over, Mihawk could see a light pink ghost that had long been painted over.

“Mihawk!”

Mihawk’s skin prickled when he heard the familiar shrill voice. Perona, the one who’d left the ghost on his gauntlet. He turned to the voice as Perona crashed into him. Her armour—painted black, white, and a horrendously bright pink—looked oversized and clunky on her. She had a fierceness to her, but she had never belonged on a battlefield.

“Mihawk!” Perona wailed. “They’re all dead!”

Right. She was here. Mihawk swallowed his trepidation, looking around nervously. What was his Ordeal? “I’m sorry, Perona.”

“Why did they bring Decken here?” Perona cried. “Mandalore was fine! It was fine!”

“Because they’re evil,” Mihawk muttered. “People are inherently evil.”

“That can’t be, right? There are people trying to get Decken and Jones out of here,” Perona said, yelping when a stray explosive blasted open next to them. Mihawk pulled her into the alley to talk. Perhaps she will tell him what his Ordeal was. “They’re good, right?”

“Are you kidding? Hody Jones used to be the royal family’s guard. Everyone thought he was good and he wasn’t,” Mihawk reminded her, bewildered. “People are evil.”

Perona’s eyes glazed over slightly, and Mihawk knew he was about to find out why he was here. She said, “Do you really think everyone is evil?”

“Yes.”

“The galaxy is so big, and you think everyone is nothing but cruel and selfish?”

“Yes.”

The world turned quiet. The sounds of bombs, artillery, jetpacks, screams, and gunships faded so suddenly that Mihawk wondered if he’d gone deaf. Mihawk peered out of the alley to see that everyone was gone, even the corpses or the injured. The city of Sundari just looked deserted, with only him and Perona there.

No, not Perona. He turned his face back to see Rayleigh. The shock of seeing his dead Master made Mihawk stumble a few steps back.

“Was I, Mihawk?” Rayleigh asked.

Mihawk fumbled. “What are you on about?”

“Was I evil?” Rayleigh clarified.

“You—”

Rayleigh suddenly drew his lightsaber—a dark green hilt with a gold emitter—and ignited it. Its yellow blade shot out and brought itself down on Mihawk, who instinctively ignited his own, defending himself.

Mihawk looked down and realised he was now in his Jedi garb—black robes with dark red detailing, designed to be reminiscent of his armour. His cuirass was just above the first layer, and only the centre of it could be seen under the second layer. He wore less armour when he was a Jedi Master. They underutilised Mihawk on the battlefield, and he got so good at wielding a lightsaber that he barely needed the armour anyway.

Mihawk’s original lightsaber before he switched to his ancestral Darksaber—a golden hilt with blue and green buttons. It was beautiful with intricate gold detailing that resembled flowers crawling up the length of it. Yellow light shot out of the emitter when Mihawk activated it.

Rayleigh began swinging at him. However, Mihawk was not only his apprentice but also a Mandalorian. Besting others in combat was in his blood. Mihawk kept up with him, recognising different techniques Rayleigh used from their training to counter him perfectly.

“The perfect warrior,” Rayleigh said with a smirk, clashing blades with Mihawk. “Do you ever take a break?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Others will get the drop on me.”

Rayleigh swung his lightsaber, chuckling. “You really think everyone is evil. Even when your Master is duelling you, you are wary.”

Mihawk cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, am I supposed to be relaxed in a fight?”

Their blades slammed against one another, and through the flying sparks, Mihawk saw that Rayleigh was gone. The yellow blade morphed into a white one.

“Am I evil?” Shanks asked, withdrawing his lightsaber. “I’m your opposite in the Force, right? Does that make me good or evil? Are you the evil one?”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

Shanks narrowly blocked a hit from Roger’s lightsaber with his own, shouting, “I don’t want to fight you!”

Roger pressed down, and Shanks could feel the heat from the lightsaber blades radiating onto his face. “You must pick one! Surely, it’s not so hard to look!”

“It’s not about looking!” Shanks defended. “It’s about seeing the kind of person I am, deep down!”

“But you aren’t that person, are you?” Roger questioned. “You’re capable of it, but you choose not to do it.”

“I still did it. Unconsciously, yeah, but I did it! Okay, I did it! I killed them! I did it!” Shanks snapped, deactivating his lightsaber and letting it fall to the ground. He collapsed, staring at the tiled floor beneath him. His face was faintly reflected in it. “I killed them. I snapped their necks. I was so angry and upset that I wasn’t strong enough to save you when there was still someone to save.”

Roger lowered his lightsaber, the blade humming quietly in the silent room. “Look, Shanks.”

Shanks swallowed. “Do I have to?”

“Recognise what you are capable of and make the active choice to keep turning to the Light Side,” Roger said. “This doesn’t need to define you for the rest of your life. You did it to protect me.”

Shanks scoffed, shaking his head self-deprecatingly. “Some protector I am. Some Padawan. Some prodigy.”

“It’s the heart that counts. Look.”

Shanks slowly dragged his head up, looking at every corpse with a twisted neck that lay around him. He did that. Shanks could do such aggressive things. He reminded himself he wasn’t someone who relished doing that.

He’d killed them, and there was no undoing it. He could only try to revive that strength and resolutely use it only to protect the people he lived for.

Roger was gone, replaced by Mihawk. He wasn’t wearing his Inquisitor uniform, though, but in Jedi robes and some pieces of his armour, pre-Empire. Black and dark red with faint floral details. Mihawk looked at the bodies as Shanks did, then turned to look down at him. Shanks was still kneeling on the floor.

“I lost people, too,” Mihawk said.

Shanks nodded once, sympathetic, and looked down at the tiled floor again. “I know.”

“Can you accept that while you are capable of violence, it doesn’t define you?” Mihawk asked, raising one eyebrow.

Shanks nodded again, feeling his heart thundering in his ears. “I can. I can.”

“Are you open to inviting the Force back into your life?”

He could feel the Force flowing through him, making his hair stand on end. Mihawk was still standing just a few steps before him, yet Shanks could feel him breathing down his neck. “Yes.”

“Are you ready to move on?” Mihawk asked, holding the Darksaber hilt towards him.

Shanks stared at it and nodded. “Yes. Teach me, Mihawk.”

Mihawk ignited his lightsaber, the sharp black blade coming out of its emitter. Carefully, Mihawk brought the blade down to hover over each of Shanks’s shoulder blades.

“You are a Jedi Knight. Act like it. Go save the galaxy.”

Mihawk lifted the lightsaber, and when Shanks blinked, he was gone, leaving just a doorway in front of Shanks.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Was he the evil one? Why, Mihawk hadn’t necessarily considered that angle before. He and Shanks were opposites in the Force. If Mihawk couldn’t open that Jedi Holocron, that meant he’d gone too far off to the Dark Side. Was he evil, then?

Shanks swung his lightsaber at him, taking over the abandoned duel with Rayleigh. He shouted above the clashing of their blades, “Am I evil or are you?”

“I don’t know,” Mihawk answered honestly, fighting Shanks off. He used the Force to push him back, giving him a few seconds to consider what was happening. What did the Ordeal want him to learn about himself today?

“Are you trying to keep everyone away from you for your safety or theirs?” Shanks interrogated, wildly swinging his lightsaber. Well, this obviously wasn’t the real Shanks. He’d never fight an ally so aggressively.

“I don’t know!” Mihawk snapped impatiently. “I can’t think properly when you’re trying to kill me!”

“You think everyone’s trying to kill you!” Shanks argued. “You want to save the galaxy when you don’t trust even one person in it to be good? What’s the point?”

“The point is that I don’t think the galaxy should be torn apart by a fascist government!” Mihawk said, bewildered. Was this really the best the Ordeal could come up for him?

“Sure,” Shanks conceded, halting his onslaught of blows upon Mihawk. “You want to be the hero?”

Mihawk’s face twisted in disgust. “I’m no hero.”

Shanks gestured vaguely. “Then why do all this to save a galaxy you detest?”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“So you are a good person,” Shanks said, tilting his head slightly with a mild smile. “Which makes me the evil one.”

“No, you... You have your troubles. Perhaps I don’t, and will never, understand because I am a different person,” Mihawk said, sighing. “I may not understand why killing criminals affected you so badly, and you won’t understand why I hate the world.”

Shanks shrugged. “If you told me, I could understand.”

“And give you free ammunition to use against me?” Mihawk scoffed. “Right.”

Shanks barked a laugh. “Trust a Mandalorian to think everyone else sees a weapon where they do.”

Mihawk was getting impatient. “Get to the point, will you?”

“Do you think I’m a good person or not?” Shanks asked, hooking his lightsaber to his belt before spreading his arms like he was presenting himself.

How could Mihawk answer that? He’d only known Shanks for several weeks. He narrowed his eyes, combing through all his interactions with Shanks and anything else he knew about him. A prodigy Padawan who was beloved around the Jedi Temple; the endeared captain of a pirate crew; a popular former Podracer; the kind of man who carried immense guilt over killing cruel people; and who hated himself for the aggression he was capable of.

“The Force doesn’t move darkly around you,” Mihawk ultimately said. It was calm and still around him, not stagnant in the way of a hopeless situation or a lifeless place, but serene.

“The Force doesn’t move so darkly around you, too,” Shanks returned. “You can still be saved, you know.”

“‘Saved’?” Mihawk echoed, confused.

The Jedi Holocron manifested in Shanks’s outstretched hand. “This freaked you out, didn’t it?”

Mihawk bristled, staring at the Jedi Holocron he failed to open. “You...”

“You can come back to the Light Side,” Shanks encouraged. “You’re not so evil, Mihawk. Let the light in.”

Mihawk asked, seeing a doorway form behind Shanks. “What do you mean?”

“Training me,” Shanks clarified, stepping aside to clear a path to the door. “Maybe you’ll find you’re not as heartless a person as you think you are.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

SHANKS

Shanks stepped through the door, reappearing in the same room he was last in in the Temple. Mihawk was standing in the middle of it, and he turned when he sensed Shanks’s return.

“You found your way back,” Mihawk said, impressed.

“I’m ready to be trained,” Shanks promised. “I swear, this time, I’m all in. I’m in this to win. I’ll get strong all over again, and we’ll take the Empire down together. You can count on me.”

Mihawk drew a breath and nodded once, fixing his helmet back over his head to hide his face. “Let’s get moving, then.”

They started heading back to the Temple’s exit. As they walked, Shanks asked, “Did you get an Ordeal?”

Hesitation. “No.”

“Ah.” Shanks felt Mihawk was lying, but he didn’t want to push it with their alliance so new and fragile. “Mine made me feel more ready. I know I already promised you before we came in, but now, I feel more confident.”

“That’s good.” Mihawk’s voice, filtered through the helmet’s voice modulator, made it hard to read any emotion in his voice. He couldn’t tell if Mihawk was genuinely happy for him or if he was bored and didn’t really care to hear about Shanks’s Ordeal.

“Okay,” Shanks said, a bit awkward. “Hope Uta’s okay out there.”

“She is, I can sense her. She’s waiting by the speeder bike,” Mihawk told him. That was good, then. “I’ll be parting ways with you once we leave the Temple. Take this.”

Mihawk produced a holoprojector, slipping it into Shanks’s hand. “This connects directly to the one in my gauntlet. Encrypted line. If anything arises that you need to tell me, but you can’t reach me through the Force, use this.”

“Thanks,” Shanks said, keeping it safely in his pocket. “Hey, about Alber’s com-link... Are you sure you don’t want it back?”

“I told you, I can just find him through the senator he’s working for,” Mihawk reminded him. “He’s more useful to you than to me.”

“In what way?”

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “I told you already. Aren’t you interested in Naboo?”

Shanks frowned, slightly confused. “Yeah, but I don’t really see how his being the Naboo senator’s bodyguard is any help to me.”

“Maybe if you contacted him, you would know,” Mihawk muttered as they reached the entrance. They left the Temple, walking into the warm sunlight.

Uta jumped up from where she was leaning against the speeder bike, excited to see them again. “Hi! How were your Ordeals?”

“It wasn’t too bad, all things considered,” Shanks said. It could’ve been worse, he supposed. “Mihawk said he didn’t have one.”

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Mihawk said. “Goodbye for now, Shanks, Uta.”

“Bye, Mihawk,” Uta greeted, watching as Mihawk left them.

Chapter Text

SHANKS

“Focus.”

Shanks squeezed his eyes shut a little harder, trying to focus like Mihawk directed him to.

They were in his quarters on the Red Force II. However, Mihawk was only here via their Force connection. He floated in midair, legs crossed, with his palms on his knees. His eyes were closed. He was in his Inquisitor uniform as always, so Shanks surmised he was meditating in his quarters at wherever the Inquisitors were stationed. Shanks wasn’t strong enough to levitate yet, so he was cross-legged on the floor in front of Mihawk.

“I am,” Shanks muttered.

“Clear your head,” Mihawk said, ignoring what Shanks said. “You’re thinking too much.”

“You can feel that all the way from there?” Shanks asked, a bit curious if his strength in the Force could improve to that extent.

“That’s how cluttered your mind is,” Mihawk said wryly, cracking an eye open. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just wondering where you are right now,” Shanks said. “I don’t know where the Inquisitors are. Before you tell me to mind my business, if you think about it, it’d be really helpful if I knew what system to avoid—”

“Nur,” Mihawk answered. “If that was your only nagging question, please close your eyes and return to meditation.”

“Are you fully on the Dark Side? Do you have Dark Side abilities? Are your eyes yellow because you’re a Sith, or are they your normal colour?” Shanks asked all at once.

Mihawk opened both eyes this time, slightly annoyed at having a barrage of questions hurled at him. “If I answer all your questions, will it give you peace?”

“Yes.”

Mihawk sighed, lowering himself from his levitation. His feet gently touched the floor, and he moved to sit on the edge of Shanks’s bed. “I don’t think I’m fully on the Dark Side yet.”

Shanks pointed out, “But you couldn’t open the Holocron.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m completely blocked off from the Light Side yet. I’m just... distanced,” Mihawk insisted. Shanks didn’t know if he was trying to convince him or himself. “I can Force choke others. Force rending, bleeding Kyber crystals.”

Shanks asked, interested, “Okay, I know the others, but what’s Force rending?”

“Controlling others’ bodies. Most people use it to twist it into painful orientations, but I don’t tend to use this,” Mihawk answered.

Unable to stop his curiosity, Shanks asked, “But you must’ve used it at least once if you know you can do it, right?”

“During training with the other Inquisitors. I was duelling one named Doflamingo, who was obnoxious and irritating. My anger got the better of me and I Force rended him. Darth Akainu was quite impressed and said that if Sengoku left his position as Grand Inquisitor, I’d be next in line for it.”

“Would you want that?”

“No,” Mihawk answered swiftly. “As for your last question, my eyes are naturally like this. If they were Sith eyes, they’d be red around the edges.”

“Oh...” Shanks leaned in closer to get a better look. It was crazy how detailed the other man’s features were when he wasn’t even physically present. Mihawk’s eyes had a perfect black ring in his iris. This close, Shanks could see the middle ring was a shade lighter. “Okay. I see. So is that a Mandalorian thing?”

“No.”

Shanks suddenly realised how much of Mihawk’s personal space he’d invaded and quickly shot back to his original position. “Sorry. Just curious.”

“Are you satisfied now?” Mihawk asked, cocking an eyebrow. “If so, focus and meditate. I want you to try to feel with the Force. There’s no other living thing in your room except you, so try to feel your crewmates around your ship.”

Shanks shut his eyes once more, trying to sense the others on the ship. He tried to picture the rows of doors in the ship’s dormitory—

“Stop visualising where they are,” Mihawk said, his voice cutting over Shanks’s thoughts. “You’re supposed to feel them out.”

“How did you...” Shanks trailed off, remembering he was dealing with a powerful Force user, and chuckled humourlessly. “Right. Sorry. I’ll try again.”

“There’s no shortcut, Shanks. You need to know how to at least sense people. It’s the basics.”

“Right, right,” Shanks repeated, closing his eyes and trying to let the Force tell him who was where. He recalled his old lessons with Roger. How did he do it then?

Mihawk requested, “Tell me what you see.”

“I see...” Shanks furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he finally latched onto a location. He hadn’t really thought to explore the other crewmates’ individual quarters yet, so he didn’t know what decorations they’d put up. “I see a bed. There’s a desk by the wall, and it’s grey. The whole room’s pretty monochromatic, honestly. There’s a drawer near the door with a keypad installed on it.”

Mihawk cleared his throat. Did he seem nervous? “A keypad?”

“Yeah. Now that I think of it, I don’t think my ship’s bunkers look like this,” Shanks thought aloud, frowning. “I see... In the drawer, I see robes. I think. Could just be regular clothes or a blanket. Armour pieces. There’s a lightsaber hilt.”

“Describe it.”

“Mostly gold, and the buttons are blue and green,” Shanks described. “Flowery detailing—wait, this looks like your original one...”

“Shanks,” Mihawk said, and the redhead opened his eyes to look at the other man. He seemed a bit put off. “You can’t see your own crewmates’ rooms, but you can see mine? I’m not even in the same galactic region as you right now.”

Shanks baulked. It was Mihawk’s room after all... “It’s your room, so what was the flower symbol on one of the pauldrons?”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk supposed Shanks wouldn’t move on with his focus training until he answered his questions. He sighed, folding his arms. “My clan signet. I refused to paint over it, so I opted out of using my pauldrons as an Inquisitor.” That explained why despite being a Mandalorian, Mihawk’s armour was a few components short of a complete set. The signet in question was a flower encircled within two rings.

“And the ghost?”

The ghost—a small etching in his right gauntlet. His little sister Perona had carved it in with a vibro-knife when she was fifteen—seeking Mihawk out when he was still a Jedi to do so. She was always good with knives, needles... She could’ve been a chef, a seamstress. She loved fashion. Her armour was always too clunky on her. She shouldn’t have been in Sundari that day, she should’ve been on a flight to Ghorman.

“I don’t like how many questions you’re asking,” Mihawk said, his expression withering.

Shanks’s eyes narrowed inquisitively, nearing Mihawk once more. “I’m sorry. I sense so much sadness in you.”

“Shanks,” Mihawk said, inching away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Shanks to prod around in his mind, though he knew it also made good practice for him. If they were dyads, would this be inevitable either way?

Shanks closed his eyes, focussing on Mihawk. He could feel his energy easing its way into his head. The only reason he could get this far was that Mihawk was letting him, but he was prepared to shut him out if he ventured too far. Shanks murmured, “It’s like... this feeling of unfinished business, kind of. Someone left behind. You don’t know what happened exactly, but you think you know. A... a girl. Pink hair, and pink armour—”

Shanks’s eyes snapped open when he felt Mihawk shut him out of his head, even stumbling back a little out of surprise. Jedi mind tricks only worked on the weak-willed, so it was easy for Mihawk to lock him out. It was good to see that Shanks could go that far in, though.

“Who was that girl?” Shanks asked.

“None of your business,” Mihawk muttered. “We’ll conclude today’s lesson here. Good progress.”

Shanks hesitated but agreed. “Okay. When will I see you again?”

“I’ll be free next week for another lesson. Work on your focus,” Mihawk told him before disappearing into thin air as his consciousness returned to his body on Nur.

“Hey!” Buggy shouted from outside his quarters. “I’ve been calling you for five minutes! Are you dead? I know you’re on Nur.”

Mihawk gritted his teeth, getting up from his cross-legged position on his bed and walking over to his door. From a small shelf by the door, Mihawk picked up his helmet and slipped it on, then pressed his hand to the door lock’s scanner. The door slid open, revealing the blue-haired Inquisitor—Ninth Brother.

“What do you want?” Mihawk asked.

Buggy shrunk back slightly at the sound of his filtered voice. “They want you in a briefing for the Inquisitors.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

Grand Inquisitor Sengoku stood before them as all the Inquisitors entered the meeting room.

There was Boa Hancock, Mihawk’s closest coworker. The First Sister was a Nightsister. Her race consisted of witches, and she still practised their magic even when sent away to become a skilled Jedi Master. She and Mihawk could relate in that way, since he also kept up with his remote Mandalorian training behind Rayleigh’s back.

Crocodile, the Fourth Brother, hailed from Cantonica—a desert planet known for casinos and racetracks. He was a Jedi Master, too, but he’d always served himself first. Mihawk didn’t trust him at all. Respected, sure, but no trust.

Buggy, the Ninth Brother, came from Sorgan, a backwater planet constantly raided for their krill farms. It was known for making spotchka, an alcohol as bright blue as Buggy’s hair. He was Shanks’s brother figure when they were still in the Jedi Order. After Roger’s death and Shanks’s disappearance, Buggy didn’t cope too well, and his new Master, Arlong, didn’t allow him to grieve them.

Donquixote Doflamingo, the Second Brother, came from Alderaan, a planet renowned for its stunning landscapes and rich art and culture. Despite hailing from such a romantic planet, Doflamingo was selfish and crude, and Mihawk didn’t like him one bit. He had to admit he was a ruthless fighter, though. He was a Jedi Master, just like his brother Rosinante.

Bartholomew Kuma, the Third Brother, was from Onderon. He was one of the only two Warlords outside of Mihawk who didn’t receive as much formal training as the other Inquisitors. He instead used his Force abilities to protect his people on Onderon during the Galactic Civil War, but agreed to join as an Inquisitor in exchange for his planet’s protection and another condition Mihawk didn’t know about.

Gecko Moria, the Sixth Brother, was an Umbaran from the “Shadow World” of Umbara. With white skin and eyes, he looked creepy to most people. He trained as a Jedi, but never received the rank of Master.

Jinbe, the Karkarodon, was the Fifth Brother, coming from the same planet as Arlong did, Karkaris. He seemed fairly noble, and Mihawk surmised he became an Inquisitor to control who got captured and who got away on his watch. He wondered how long Jinbe thought he could keep that up before he got caught.

Trafalgar Law, the Seventh Brother, was from Crait. He was the Padawan of Doflamingo’s brother. After a mission gone wrong during the Civil War, Rosinante died, and Doflamingo took over as Law’s Master. He was the one who roped Law in as an Inquisitor, but Mihawk wondered if the teenager had other plans.

Edward D. Teach, the Eighth Brother, had unknown origins. All Mihawk knew was that he gained an interest in the Force after visiting and setting up a base on Malachor to hone his abilities. When the Empire rose to power, he offered his services as an Inquisitor to receive formal training from Darth Akainu. Mihawk had a bad feeling about him.

“Finally, you’re here,” Sengoku said impatiently as Buggy led Mihawk into the room. As a Nothoiin, Sengoku had gold skin, and it stood out against his black Inquisitor uniform. “I’ll cut to the chase. The Tenth Brother, Weevil, is dead.”

“Really?” Doflamingo questioned, laughing. “Can’t say I expected more from that brainless fool.”

Sengoku gritted his teeth in annoyance. “This is no laughing matter. The Jedi out there are clearly not easy targets. You all need to take this more seriously if we are to wipe them out.”

Knowing people like Shanks were out there, Mihawk had no doubt there were plenty of strong Jedi still surviving that could cut down or outsmart at least half of the Inquisitor roster. There were 10,000 Jedi, and if only 1% of them survived the Great Jedi Purge, that was still 100 Jedi running free. They’d never find them all, but Sengoku and Akainu could surely try.

“Fourth Brother,” Sengoku said, turning to Crocodile. “What’s the status on your search for the Padawan, Nefeltari Vivi?”

Crocodile grumbled, “She seems to have formed a protection deal with a pirate crew led by the vice-admiral’s grandson.”

“Garp’s?” Sengoku asked, looking even more annoyed. “I’ll have you and him discuss this. What about you and Roronoa Zoro, Ninth Brother?”

Buggy shrank into his seat. “Don’t get mad.”

Sengoku gripped the table. “I cannot believe how incompetent you lot are.”

“Look, he’s really skilled as a Padawan, okay?” Buggy defended himself. “And he’s in a pirate crew, too.”

“These pirates...” Sengoku said angrily. “You and Fourth Brother will team up and hunt Vivi and Zoro together. First Sister, how’s your investigation on the rumoured Force-sensitive?”

“The little blonde thing from Ukio,” Hancock said, disinterest dripping from her voice. “I’m looking into it. Don’t worry.”

Sengoku turned to Mihawk, desperate. “Give me good news.”

“The Jedi is beginning to trust me,” Mihawk reported. Everyone’s gazes slid over to Mihawk, watching the imperceptible bob of his helmet as he spoke. “When he lets down his guard, it will be the most effective shot at taking him down. I just have to focus.”

Chapter Text

“Shanks.”

Shanks tossed and turned in his bed, and his eyebrows pinched in discomfort.

“Shanks, wake up.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw a blur of red. Red hair, red eyes. The Shanks in his brain stared at the blurred person, and one word made it to the tip of his tongue. “Sham—”

The person’s image became a bit clearer. He couldn’t quite discern their features, but they looked panicked. Disheveled. Though Shanks couldn’t make out any details, it felt like he could feel how the other person was feeling. He was scared. In danger.

“Shanks. Go to Naboo. Find me.”

Shanks shot up in bed, perspiring from nerves, and tried to catch his breath. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a dream like that, but it was the first time the person ever spoke to him. Shanks drew deep breaths as he tried to settle his heart rate. He had no idea who that red-haired person in his visions was, but he felt like it was important to figure it out.

He heard a knock on his door, and he got out of bed to open it. He pressed a hand on the scanner, and the door slid open to reveal Uta.

“Are you okay?” Uta asked, peering into his room.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Shanks assured. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

“No, I felt a disturbance here,” Uta mumbled. “There was this feeling of... unrest. Fear. Are you sure you’re okay?

It didn’t feel like something he had to share with Uta yet, but he should probably set course for Naboo and see if his vision of the red-haired person had any serious value. He’d always felt a strong pull to Naboo, and now that this stranger was directly asking for his help, Shanks didn’t want to ignore it. His training with Mihawk may be why the vision got more vivid. Even if it was only a figment of his imagination, Shanks didn’t want to risk leaving that person in danger for his own comfort.

“I’m sure,” Shanks said, nodding once as he patted her head. “Do you know if Building Snake’s asleep?”

Uta didn’t seem convinced, but said, “I think he’s in the cockpit.”

Shanks bid her goodnight, then moved through the silent ship to find the pilot. Eventually, he found Snake and Yasopp chatting in the cockpit. When they noticed Shanks, Yasopp grinned and invited, “Hey, Cap! You wanna hang out?”

“It’s alright, I think I’ll grab a bite or something. I just came here to ask Snake to set coordinates for Naboo,” Shanks said.

Building Snake leaned forward and began calculating the hyperspace jump to Naboo as he asked, “Why the change in course?”

“I just... have a feeling we’re needed there,” Shanks said vaguely. He didn’t want to keep that much from his crew, but they didn’t even know he was a Jedi yet. Shanks didn’t know when he’d be ready to share that part of himself with them. Maybe after more training with Mihawk, he’d become more comfortable about it. Proud, even.

“I mean, you got good instincts,” Yasopp said, shrugging. While the system calculated the jump, Snake and Yasopp went back to discussing funny anecdotes about their lives, and Shanks left them to it.

He grabbed some Haroun bread from the kitchen, then returned to his room. He should ask Mihawk about it, right? He was his mentor now—the person who would look out for him. Besides, he was stronger in the Force. Surely, he would be able to tell if the person in his vision was malicious or nonexistent.

He hurriedly scarfed the bread down for energy, then sat cross-legged on his bed and shut his eyes to focus. He took in the silence of his room, the stillness of the air-conditioned air. He emptied his mind like Mihawk taught him and tried to reach out across the galaxy to wherever Mihawk was.

Shanks’s eyebrow twitched with effort. Mihawk could reach him so easily... It was incredibly hard for Shanks to do the same. With more practice, he could be better at it. He’d been working on his connection with the Force with Mihawk. Surely, if he could connect with that red-haired person, he could connect with Mihawk.

He remembered when Mihawk gave him Alber’s comlink, his reasoning being that he wanted Shanks to reconnect with the Force. He should be happy to hear that he got such a strong vision...

“Dank farrik, focus,” Shanks whispered to himself, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration.

He saw black behind his eyelids and a picture slowly formed. Not a picture exactly, but the sensation of one. He didn’t see anything, but it was as though the aura of the environment was changing. There was a grey desk by a wall, a bed that was hardly made, and a familiar drawer with a keypad.

Mihawk’s room at the Inquisitors’ base.

Shanks reached, trying to latch onto an inkling of Mihawk’s energy. Something cold. Dark. Lonely. Grieving. A man sat on the bed, cradling a pauldron. An encircled flower was painted on it.

Shanks opened his eyes, standing before Mihawk. He wondered if he should say something to him... Mihawk pressed his forehead to the pauldron, folding himself almost in half with his chest pressed to his thighs.

He cleared his throat. “Mihawk.”

Mihawk froze and then slowly raised his head to look up at Shanks. “You’re here.”

“I just concentrated like you told me to,” Shanks said. He didn’t feel like celebrating his huge win when he’d intruded on what seemed like a private moment for Mihawk. He awkwardly nodded towards the pauldron. “Are you okay?”

Mihawk instantly stood to return the pauldron to the drawer. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to Naboo,” Shanks answered, catching Mihawk’s attention. “When I was sleeping earlier, I got a vision—a scared red-haired person asking me to go to Naboo and find them. I don’t know who they are, but I don’t feel good not answering that call, even if the person might not exist.”

Mihawk pondered his words and then offered, “I will go to Naboo right now and meet you there.”

“Seriously? You will?”

“You wanted to return to your supposed homeworld of Naboo. This is as good a chance as any to work on your connection to the Force,” Mihawk explained. Shanks watched as he fetched his flight suit from a wardrobe. Mihawk laid out his armour pieces on his bed and didn’t bother stepping out of Shanks’s line of sight before he took his civvies off. He was still in boxers, but Shanks blushed and turned away to give him privacy. “Hopefully, you’ll find out why you feel so connected to that planet. Perhaps that red-haired person is of value to your connection to the Force in some way. You’ll need my help to get off the planet with ease, either way. The king of Naboo is loyal to the Empire. I have no doubt he will report you if he learns you are there without Imperial escort—who shall be me.”

It was true that having an “Imperial” with him would be beneficial. Shanks would probably have to go find that red-haired person without his crew, accompanied only by Mihawk. It sounded like a solid plan, and he decided he should probably contact Alber and let him know they were on their way to Naboo. He had no idea how helpful he could be to ensure Shanks’s safe exit off the planet, but a contact on Naboo was better than none at all.

“Leave me. I must depart,” Mihawk said. He flapped a hand in his direction, and Shanks was suddenly back in his quarters, cross-legged on his bed.

He rubbed his temple, muttering, “How does he do it so often?”

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Shanks had contacted Alber with the com-link to tell him he was on his way to Naboo, and that Mihawk would be coming, too. With hyperspace, they’d hopefully reach at roughly the same time, in time to look like they had been scheduled to arrive together on Naboo.

Alber said he would keep a lookout for him and that he and the senator of Naboo would be at the Dee’ja Peak Capitol on business. Shanks had never been there, so he had no clue where that was, but he’d transmitted the information to Mihawk, who said he knew that place. It’d be fine with Mihawk guiding them around. There was a chance they wouldn’t be there by the time Mihawk and Shanks arrived, anyway.

As they travelled through hyperspace, Uta walked up to Shanks in the cockpit and asked, “Why are we going to Naboo?”

“I got a vision,” Shanks answered honestly, since they were the only two in the cockpit. She was an observant kid, and she knew more about the Force than he did at that point, so it’d probably help if he cooperated with her at least slightly. “I need to drop by and check on someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I have a feeling they’re important.”

Uta didn’t push more, but she said, “Naboo is an Imperial planet. The king is a strong supporter of the Empire... but the senator—his son—seems different. I’ve seen him in some Senate broadcasts, and he usually has unpopular takes on Imperial issues.”

“Hopefully we don’t run into the king, then,” Shanks mumbled. He turned towards her and said, “You’re staying on the ship with the crew. Mihawk and I are going it alone.”

“He’s coming?” Uta asked, surprised.

“No way I’m making it off the planet seamlessly without him; he’s an Inquisitor. He’s got high clearance and authority. I need him there,” Shanks explained. “We’re gonna meet up with that S’kytri Mando we met, who used to be one of Kaido’s guys. He’s got a gig guarding the senator, so he’ll be a good contact.”

The alert on the control panel blinked in warning, and the ship dropped out of hyperspace before Naboo. It was a fairly large planet in the Mid Rim, and was surrounded by three moons and one sun. It was a pretty shade of green and a hint of blue—even without making landfall on the planet yet, Shanks could tell Naboo had lush terrain. The only thing he knew about Naboo was that one of the Five Emperors, Jaygarcia Saturn, hailed from there, which made it a prominent planet in the Imperial Era.

Seconds later, a Phi-class shuttle dropped out of hyperspace a short distance away. Shanks assumed Mihawk had opted for his Imperial-issue shuttle instead of the Coffin to look more like he was there on business.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Uta sounded unsure. “I sense something weird down there...”

Honestly, Shanks sensed it a little, too. There was a vague feeling of unrest on the planet below. Coupled with Shanks’s vision, he was partially certain the unrest was related. He petted her hair and said, “I’ll be back soon, hopefully. Beck will have my com-link. If anything happens, you’ll hear from me... and if you don’t hear from me, but people are coming after you, Beck’s in charge. Hide and listen to him, okay?”

Uta protested, “But I can fight!”

“I know you can, but you said this is an Imperial planet. If it were a neutral one, I could permit you to fight, but it’s too much trouble here,” Shanks reasoned. “Let’s just keep this short and simple, alright?” When Uta opened her mouth to argue again, he said sternly, “Uta, on my ship, I’m the captain. Okay?”

She shut her mouth and nodded reluctantly. At the end of the day, the Red Hair Pirates were giving her protection against the Empire. She could hardly find it in her to keep challenging Shanks’s attempts to keep her safe. “Alright. May the Force be with you.”

Snake landed the ship, and Shanks disembarked. He put on a black poncho to hide his pirate garb and weapon, and pulled its hood up. The goal was to appear harmless but also unrecognisable as the famous pirate he was until Mihawk touched down.

“Good luck, Captain,” Beckman said, waving the com-link at him so they both knew he had it on him. Shanks waved his own at him, then tucked it into his pocket.

Shanks waited in the Civic Spaceport. It wasn’t too large, compared to other spaceports Shanks had seen across the galaxy, and it was in Naboo’s capital city, Theed. Across a river was a large building that could be the Royal Palace. Naboo was actually quite beautiful–Shanks lamented that he’d never been here before.

He squinted against the afternoon sun as he watched the Phi-class shuttle descend into an empty hangar at the spaceport. It wasn’t far from where the Red Force II had been parked. Employees at the spaceport were making a beeline for it—they must’ve recognised the ship to belong to Imperial officials and wanted to greet whoever it was. He saw two royal guards head out of the palace—answering a com-link update from one of the spaceport attendants—and go straight to the hangar Mihawk had landed in. They wore helmets and brown uniforms, and each carried a special locally manufactured silver blaster pistol.

They lined up by the exit, and then the tall doors slid open to reveal Mihawk, fully donned in his black Inquisitor Mandalorian armour, helmet included. It glinted in the sunlight, and somehow the durability of his beskar was visible. He walked out with confident, long strides, not sparing any attendant a glance. This was a man who wouldn’t be an easy mark, one who challenged anyone to try him or his authority. Outside of the king and senator, who were obviously part of the Royal Family, Mihawk was probably one of the highest authorities on Naboo at the moment.

The perfect way off the planet.

They were close enough that Shanks could hear the guards speak. One of them greeted, “First Brother, welcome to Naboo. The senator heard you were coming and sends his regards.”

“Thank you,” Mihawk said insincerely. With the voice modulation through his helmet, Shanks knew the guards were unsettled by his nonchalance. “Leave me. I have business.”

“The senator would like us to escort you to the Royal Palace, sir,” the second guard informed, standing at full attention.

“I have a partner,” Mihawk told them, nodding in Shanks’s direction. “He comes with me or I turn down the senator’s invitation.”

The guards glanced at one another, then one spoke into his com-link, “Captain, the First Brother has an unregistered guest he wants to bring into the Palace.”

“I know the guest. Allow them both entry,” Alber answered through the com-link. The guard nodded, then followed Mihawk as he approached Shanks.

Once he was near enough, Mihawk greeted him, “Seventh Brother, I see you’ve brought your civilian ship today.”

Ah, Mihawk must have decided to fake Shanks’s identity as another Inquisitor to make it easier to explain his presence. He nodded once, unsure how that Inquisitor spoke and not wanting to risk giving up his true identity by doing a poor impression of them. Shanks only greeted back, “First Brother.”

Mihawk tipped his chin, gesturing for Shanks to follow them, and he allowed the guards to lead them to the Royal Palace. It was huge, and Shanks was in awe of how ornate the architecture was. Dozens of sandstone towers stood in the palace’s plaza, topped by bright green domes with brass trims. Shanks couldn’t react outwardly to maintain an Inquisitor’s calm demeanour, but he thought this place looked incredible. The guards led them up wide stairs, flanked with tall statues of people Shanks assumed were notable figures of Naboo’s history.

The interior was spacious with high, arching ceilings and tall columns lining each walkway neatly. Shanks quietly followed the guards, walking side by side with Mihawk. Mihawk remained silent as well, walking stoically. He was in Inquisitor mode, Shanks supposed. It was odd to see him like this after seeing him more... human, with his helmet off. He’d long lost his initial fear of the Inquisitor, so now it felt strange to see others be afraid of him. Mihawk was a good guy in secret.

One of the guards asked out of nowhere, “Are you here about the assassination attempt?”

What attempt, Shanks wanted to ask, but he knew he should pretend to be aware. Mihawk answered for both of them, “Yes. I am familiar with your captain, and he informed me of it.” Mihawk hadn’t mentioned such a thing, and he’d given Alber’s com-link to Shanks, so he was definitely lying. “How is he?”

“The senator’s shaken up,” the second guard answered. “He won’t let the captain out of his sight. At night, we watch him in shifts so the captain doesn’t have to stay up all night. His manservants are allowed near him, too, but they reported that he keeps asking someone to find him in his sleep.”

Shanks’s vision of a red-haired person pleading for him to find him on Naboo flashed in his mind. The senator could be the person he was looking for! Mihawk must have caught on as well, because he said, “We can go on our own from here. I’ve been here before. The captain is coming to meet us, anyway.”

“We weren’t told—”

Mihawk cocked his head, and his helmet’s bright red visor glinted, strangely intimidating. “I can sense him coming. Leave us.”

Without another word, the two guards left them be. Once they were out of earshot, Mihawk informed Shanks, “I’ve identified you as the Seventh Brother, Trafalgar Law. His uniform is similar to what you’re currently wearing, so I got the idea to label you as him. You don’t have to speak to any Naboo locals, I can handle that.”

Shanks nodded, then asked, “Have you actually been here before?”

“Several times when I was a Jedi. I never met the senator, though. When he was younger, he was under much heavier security than now, so it was rare to see him. Besides, at least one of his manservants serves as a decoy—half the time you see him, it probably wasn’t him at all,” Mihawk answered. “When the guard mentioned...”

“Yeah, I think this could be the guy I’m looking for,” Shanks agreed, already knowing how Mihawk’s sentence was going to end. “If he’s had assassination attempts made on him, then that’d explain why he seemed so scared in my vision...”

“I looked into him on the way here. I don’t tend to keep up with politicians—there are literally thousands across the galaxy, and it wasn’t my job,” Mihawk explained. “The senator recently called for a motion to oppose the Imperial Death Warrant. It allowed for the Empire to order the death of anyone, with or without proper investigation, through the use of mercenaries, bounty hunters, or Imperial assassins and agents. It doesn’t sound like much, but he was publicly going against the Five Emperors’ wishes and authority, on top of openly calling for opposition against them. I wouldn’t be surprised if an assassination attempt was made on him for that, as it would also get in the way of other corrupt politicians who would want to take advantage of the warrant to kill certain problematic individuals without legal consequence.”

“Jeez,” Shanks muttered. “To think wanting due process is enough to get you assassinated now...”

“Honestly, I’m surprised an attempt wasn’t made earlier. He’d been opposing the Empire in various ways since it started,” Mihawk said, recalling information from his research. “He proposed the Imperial Rebirth Act, which would fund Republic and ex-Separatist planets to repair their post-war destruction, and reduce the Five Emperors’ control over the galaxy, giving more authority to the Senate. Predictably, it only passed with many terms vetoed, including passing more power to the Senate. He opposed the Imperial Spacefaring Regulations, which allowed the Empire to track everyone’s space travel, insisting people had the right to privacy, though he contended that registered repeat criminals could have their travel monitored. There were several others that I don’t recall at the moment—the senator’s been quite busy.”

Shanks was shocked and wondered how many other politicians had been fighting the Empire like that. “And the king?”

“He doesn’t participate in Senate meetings. The senator attends with a small team of manservants and the Royal Guard captain, who’s currently Alber,” Mihawk answered. So the king was Imperial and didn’t bother showing up to meetings because he didn’t care enough...

“First Brother,” Alber greeted as he approached them. He was dressed in his typical Mandalorian armour. Shanks imagined the Royal Guards tried to get him in the standard uniform, but he insisted on keeping his beskar on. The senator might’ve supported his decision, too. Although he’d met Alber before, his height was still a shock to see in person.

“Captain,” Mihawk greeted, shaking the hand Alber extended towards him. “This is the Seventh Brother.”

“Hm,” Alber said, giving Shanks a knowing look.

“Captain, I have a question,” Shanks said, lowering his voice. “Who’s the senator? His real name isn’t available anywhere, right? I need to know his name.”

“For his security, it isn’t,” Alber confirmed. “His name is Figarland Shamrock.”

Shanks froze in place, and Mihawk’s helmet turned to him knowingly. Shamrock, the mysterious name that was stuck at the back of Shanks’s mind... “What does he look like?”

Alber cocked his helmet to the side. “He’s always in makeup or obscuring clothing for his protection, so I’m not completely certain... but his base features resemble yours, now that I’m looking at you properly. Same slightly pointed nose, same shade of light red eyes.”

“You mean you’ve never seen him in regular clothes or barefaced?” Shanks asked, finding it a little hard to believe Alber didn’t see any similar features.

"Just because I'm his main guard doesn’t mean I intrude on his privacy," Alber said, slightly irritated. “I’m supposed to make sure he doesn’t get assassinated. That’s it.”

“Alber,” Mihawk cut over. His voice was so authoritative coming from under the helmet. “Could you arrange a meeting between us and Senator Figarland? Shanks got a vision through the Force that the senator could be in grave danger.”

Alber stared at him, confused and hesitant, but must have remembered that Mihawk’s only goal was to destroy the higher-ups of the Empire, and Shamrock’s safety wouldn’t be compromised. He nodded and said, “I can try. Follow me.”

Chapter Text

SHANKS

Alber led them through the palace, and Shanks really wished he were visiting under less serious terms. Naboo was truly beautiful, both naturally and architecturally. Palace staff quickly moved out of the way the moment they saw the Royal Guard captain and two Inquisitors coming.

Soon, they reached a restricted area, and Alber explained, “Only registered visitors, Royal Guards, Shamrock’s manservants, and the King may go past this point.”

“That guy’s really heavily guarded, huh?” Shanks mumbled. “Were all the senators before him guarded like this?”

“I asked the retiring captain, who told me that they hadn’t needed this much protection for their senator when it was the Republic ruling the galaxy. Now that it’s the Empire and Shamrock keeps acting out against them, the Royal Guards commissioned stronger guards—me—to join and reinforce his safety. That’s how Mihawk got me this job, they were looking and I was strong,” Alber explained. He nodded once at two manservants who passed them—they were dressed in a light purple hooded poncho and billowy brown pants.

Shanks asked curiously, “Do they know about your past with Kaido?”

“The senator does, but he also knows the history of Mandalorians,” Alber answered. “He understood my desire to secure a safe position for myself to keep my clan alive, and decided my history serving Kaido wasn’t of any concern to him. I’ve been doing my job guarding him well.”

He soon took them to a large, ornate door. “This is the senator’s room. The king’s is in another part of the palace—the aim was to keep them separate, so should any assassination attempt occur, it’d be more difficult to get both of them at once. The senator had only just returned from a meeting at the Dee’ja Peak Capitol, so he will still be in his uniform and makeup.” He motioned for them to step back and knocked on the door in a strange pattern. “Senator, it’s me. I bring the Inquisitors.”

“Let them in.”

Alber stepped back, and the doors were opened by two manservants. They left the suite to give them privacy, and Alber led Mihawk and Shanks inside. The manservants closed the doors behind them.

The doorway opened up into a huge living room with two round mirrored couches in the middle, and tall windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, with silky white curtains draped on each side. It was an incredible suite—it was crazy to see how the people up top lived.

A man stood from the couch—as Alber said, he was still in his business clothes from earlier. His face was painted white, with one red dot on each cheek. His top lip was painted red as well, and one vertical stripe was painted on his lower lip. That, on top of the translucent red veil, made it hard to discern what Shamrock looked like bare-faced and out of his ornate costumes. No wonder even Alber didn’t know what he really looked like, despite having worked so closely with him for a while now. He wore a formal maroon velvet uniform that was airy to move in, with gold details and a golden belt buckle. His hair was red and slightly wavy, no doubt from extensive haircare with expensive shampoos. It was combed backwards to form a bun at the back. Thick braids lined his head and joined into the bun, and two thinner braids framed his face, tucking themselves behind his ears.

Shanks lowered his hood to show respect. “Senator, it’s good to meet you. My name is—”

“Shanks?” The senator uttered.

“Shamrock,” Shanks said, stunned that the senator knew his name. Shamrock lifted the veil off his face and, without it in the way, Shanks could now see that they looked similar. As Alber said, their noses were similarly pointed and their eyes were the same shade of red. So was their hair. “I... I’m sorry, I saw a vision of you.”

“I asked you to find me,” Shamrock said, nodding. He looked quite relieved now that Shanks was there. “I’ve had your name stuck in my mind for years, but I never knew who you were. I only knew you had red hair.”

“So did I!” Shanks said, surprised.

“You look exactly like me,” Shamrock murmured. “Peculiar...”

Mihawk interrupted, “I’m sure you two have a lot to sort out, but perhaps you should get into why you asked Shanks to find you.”

“Understood,” Shamrock conceded. “Someone is trying to kill me. It’s not a one-off assassin, but a person who is actively attempting to take my life multiple times. Alber chased them off during a late-night attack and, in my distress, I reached out to Shanks and asked for help.”

“How?” Alber asked as his helmet twisted to look in Shamrock’s direction.

Shamrock raised a hand towards the round table between the two couches, and an ornate glass was pulled across the room into his hand. Shanks stepped back, stunned at the display of his Force abilities, and asked, “You’re Force-sensitive? Were you a Jedi?”

“No. My father had me remain here to go into politics just as he did. I’m not so sure he believes I’m Force-sensitive, anyway. He likely thinks I’m just doing illusions to pass the time,” Shamrock said, pressing his mouth together. “I reached out to you because I felt some kind of connection to you. Seeing you in front of me, I finally understand why... I think we’re twins.”

The closest thing Shanks ever had to a brother was Buggy, when they were both training under Master Roger... He couldn’t fathom having a biological brother he didn’t know about, and it was a bit difficult to accept it. Shamrock's wearing makeup that made his features harder to discern didn’t help.

“I...” Shanks trailed off. He remembered then that Shamrock’s life was in danger and decided to shove the matter aside for later. “Never mind that right now. We need to get you off Naboo, Senator.”

Mihawk’s head twitched towards the window, and Shanks sensed some wariness from him as he said, “I sense—” He suddenly ignited his lightsaber and jumped between Shamrock and the window. A blaster bolt shattered the glass, and Mihawk’s red blade redirected it off to burn a hole in the ceiling. Alber drew his blaster pistol and ran to the hole in the window, trying to locate the direction of the perpetrator.

Shanks hurriedly grabbed Shamrock and moved him further away from the window. While Alber attempted to investigate, Mihawk turned to Shamrock and said, “Senator, we should leave.”

Shamrock snapped his fingers, and Alber closed the curtains without any verbal order given. Now obscured from the sniper’s view, he took his veil off and clipped the silver headpiece on Shanks’s forehead. He took Shanks’s poncho off him, then ran into his room. He soon reemerged with a dark blue draping garment with silver brooches. He draped it over his twin, then put Shanks’s poncho on and shoved him to Alber as he ordered. “Captain, protect the senator. Take him to the docking bay.”

Shanks’s eyes widened even more as Alber protested, “Senator, what—”

Shamrock turned to Mihawk and said, “You. Pursue the assassin.”

“Assassin?”

Shamrock fired his blaster at the floor near Shanks’s feet, burning a hole through the tiled floor. Then, he pulled the poncho’s hood up to hide his long hair and face, and ran out of the suite.

Everyone quickly caught on to what Shamrock was trying to do. Shanks wasn’t sure if it was a good plan, but the senator had already run off, and it was too late to protest. Mihawk reluctantly ran after Shamrock, and Alber clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“He’s such a pain in the ass,” Alber complained, but he adjusted the garment so that it would hide the fact that Shanks had short hair compared to Shamrock. Once he was satisfied with the resemblance, he rushed Shanks out of the room, where he was greeted by two manservants, looking shocked.

“What happened? We heard a blaster shot!” One of them asked, concerned as he looked over Shanks. Shanks looked down at the ground—Shamrock was clean-shaven and still had makeup on, and the veil wouldn’t be enough to hide that Shanks had facial hair and no makeup.

Alber pushed him behind him protectively to hide his face from the manservants and answered, “One of the Inquisitors turned out to be an assassin in disguise. We’re unsure if it’s an imposter or not. The First Brother is pursuing them.”

“Alert the Royal Guards,” one manservant said. While the other ran off, speaking into his com-link, the remaining one said to Shanks, “Shamrock, let’s get you to safety. The manservants will take care of you.”

“I will handle the senator’s safety on my own from this point forward,” Alber said. “Assist the First Brother with tracking down the Seventh Brother. Send the Royal Guards to defend the king.”

The manservant hesitated but, at the sight of Shanks’s nod of approval, reluctantly nodded back and ran off. Alone, Alber began leading Shanks through the hallways to exit the palace. Guards and manservants ran past them, and Shanks would only silently nod to affirm to them that “Shamrock” was alright with Alber.

“Does he always do that kind of thing?” Shanks whispered.

“No, but he’s a pain,” Alber said, echoing his sentiment from earlier. “He makes it very hard to protect him from assassins.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

MIHAWK

Mihawk chased Shamrock to a secluded area near the spaceport, wondering how the senator was planning for three of them (four, if Alber was coming along) to leave the planet if he’d framed himself as the assassin. He could sense Shanks returning to where the Red Force II had been docked, so he’d be reunited with his crew soon.

Once Shamrock slowed to a stop, Mihawk frowned and said, “Shanks brought his crew. How will they leave with us?”

“They’re my crew,” Shamrock replied. “I will take his ship. You, Alber, and Shanks can take yours. We’ll rendezvous elsewhere.”

Mihawk wasn’t confident in the plan, but he could agree that the biggest obstacle was just leaving the docking bay without getting stopped. Mihawk couldn’t exact slow the Royal Guards or manservants down as he’d look like a traitor, but knowing Shamrock was Force-sensitive too made him a bit more trusting of the plan. He could do it without rousing suspicion, since he was posing as the Seventh Brother.

“Where?”

Shamrock pulled out a small holoprojector from his pocket and pressed a button. A blue projection of the planet Sorgan materialised, and Shamrock said, “Sorgan. It’s in a remote part of the Outer Rim and has a small native population. No Imperial presence there because most of the surrounding planets are inhabitable. We’ll rendezvous in the cantina in their main town.”

No wonder he was a politician; Shamrock seemed to love telling people what to do. Still, they didn’t have time to come up with a new plan, especially not when Shanks and Alber were away, and Shamrock would be gone by the time Mihawk could get to them. He conceded, agreed with the plan, and Shamrock asked, “Which one is his?”

“The Gozanti-class cruiser.”

“Understood.” Shamrock adjusted his poncho hood before dashing towards the Red Force II. Mihawk gave him a few seconds to get ahead before he activate his lightsaber and ran after him.

Blaster shots were fired by nearby Royal Guards who spotted the “Seventh Brother” running through the spaceport. Mihawk subtly used the Force to make them narrowly miss Shamrock, allowing him to use the Force to leap far, landing on the Red Force II’s boarding ramp.

“Cease fire, that ship will explode if we shoot it in the wrong place. There are too many civilians nearby,” Mihawk ordered. The truth was that that cruiser was fairly sturdy, but given that most Naboo used locally manufactured starships as opposed to importing them, he was counting on them not to know the durability of a foreign cruiser. Thankfully, they didn’t, and reluctantly lowered their blasters.

One of them asked, “What do we do, First Brother?”

“We’ll go after him,” Alber said, approaching with the fake Shamrock. “The rest of you, stay here and see if you can find any accomplices. Ensure the king is safe.”

“Are you sure, Captain? Is the Senator going with you?” One of the manservants asked, worried.

“Do as he says. I will go with them—I have to get to the bottom of this, I can’t allow it to continue forever,” Shanks said. To his credit, he did a fairly good job imitating his twin. Mihawk gestured to his ship, and Alber ushered Shanks onto it.

Inside the cockpit, now out of earshot of the Royal Guards and manservants, Mihawk told them Shamrock’s plan to rendezvous on Sorgan. Right before Alber could complain for a third time about what a pain Shamrock was to work for, Shanks received a ping on his com-link from Beckman.

“Captain,” Beckman said as his voice crackled through the device.

“Do as the senator says,” Shanks replied, not needing Beckman to say more.

“Got it. See you on Sorgan.”

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

Hancock, Uta, Mihawk, Shanks, Alber & Shamrock