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The cloth is cheap cotton. Texture far rougher than anything Shamrock has ever worn. Inferior dye fading after however many years of exposure to sunlight. Dull yellow and lifeless pale pink in the shape of flowers, hardly the pinnacle of high fashion. Yet, he cannot make himself set the kerchief down; keeps it tightly wound around one hand, rubbing the fabric with his bare thumb.
This is all that remains.
Her other clothing was disposed of almost immediately, upon Shamrock getting her into the safe seclusion of his cabin. Somehow, though, this scrap of cloth wound up falling onto a table rather than the floor, and thus was missed. Left behind. Abandoned.
A sensation he feels all too familiar with.
Enough of this, Shamrock, I haven’t the time to waste on your foolishness right now
So you’re my long lost twin, huh?
I’ll be willing
Someone tentatively taps upon the door.
“Enter,” Shamrock calls out, not moving from his seat in front of the wide window, still glaring out at the brilliant blue sky and calm waves.
“S-sir,” a marine stammers. “Ah- the captain says we’ll need to stop briefly at Sabaody, and then only another day to the Red Port.” He does not depart upon making this statement. After an excruciating silence, Shamrock slowly turns his head to glare at the offending intruder, a silent why are you still here prominent in his arched brow. “Well, ah, s-sorry, sir, it’s just- we’ve also been informed that, ah, there’s some increased pirate activity, a-and an Emperor has been seen lurking by the groves-”
“Which one.”
“R-Red-Hair? Sir?”
...Shanks. Shanks. At Sabaody.
The first spark he’s felt in days stirs in Shamrock’s gut.
It is incredibly cathartic to drop from the heavens and swing a sword at his twin’s neck. Not that the blow connects, of course; even in the depths of drunken revelry, Shanks has some of the best Observation Haki Shamrock has ever encountered. There’s a whisper of steel and then the crash of their blades colliding like thunder, and an expression on his estranged brother’s face of pure, utter bafflement. “Sham? The hell are you doing?”
“Venting,” he snarls back, entirely honest in that single word. With a sharp twist and kick, he sends Shanks skidding backwards across the deck of the man’s ship. Several of the alarmed pirates around them raise weapons high, only to still at a gesture from their captain. Satisfied that this duel will remain uninterrupted, Shamrock sets one foot in front of the other, matching his brother’s careful backwards pace. “You just had to go and pick one like yourself, didn’t you?”
The bafflement grows. It might be funny, in any other circumstance. “Pick- what?”
“That pet,” Shamrock snaps, and then he’s leaping, and their blades are flying, and it’s a dizzying whirlwind as they match each other blow for blow. Shanks continues to try and place himself just so, maneuvering towards something - rather than let him, Shamrock employs a spinning kick to launch his twin off the ship entirely, onto the nearest tangle of mangrove roots, and follows as shouts ring out from the crew. “I should have taken Father’s advice from the very start, but no, you managed to find one that drew me in the same way that YOU did, traitor!”
“One what,” Shanks asks, catching Shamrock’s next blow and locking their swords, delaying disengagement for a few seconds of being practically face to face. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“The pet you left behind on that East Blue backwater!” It comes out rough, far less composed than Shamrock would like, but getting to actively see the blood drain from his brother’s face is entirely worth the break of composure.
That shock provides him an opportunity to pull back and strike, and again, and again, hammering hard against the other man’s automatic defense without a counterblow to be seen. After the third hit, though, Shanks recovers. Then it becomes Shamrock’s turn to barely withstand a heavy blow, a wave of furious Conqueror’s Haki bearing down with Gryphon, forcing him back a few steps to avoid being knocked off his feet. “Sham, I swear, if you hurt one hair on that little boy’s head-”
“Boy?” The single-word question draws Shanks up short, at least until Shamrock recalls- “Oh. Him. As if I’d waste time on that insect, he was perfectly well enough to scream when I left.” Foul-mouthed death threats, for the most part, far too laughable to be taken as anything serious.
Shanks doesn’t seem to be reassured, however. Once again, he lashes out, and Shamrock finds himself forced back a few more steps, closer to the water’s edge and the unpleasant fish below. Haki rolls off his twin’s blade and tongue alike, equally sharp. “What did you do?”
“I helped myself to your discarded plaything,” Shamrocks scoffs, taking vindictive pleasure in how white-faced Shanks remains. “But not to worry, I made certain to ensure she enjoyed it. After the initial tears stopped, at any rate.”
For a moment, there is perfect, silent, stillness.
In that moment, a small, little-used voice at the back of Shamrock’s head takes the opportunity to whisper a warning: run.
When Shanks next attacks, his haki leaps forward like a cannonball leading the charge, a volcano’s eruption shooting forth deadly debris before the main carnage can ensue. A blurred flurry of hits harder than Shamrock has ever seen from his twin, only coming to a halt when Shanks does something that twists and throws both their weapons off to one side, far out of reach, Gryphon and Cerberus sinking side by side into a thick tree trunk almost up to their hilts. And then Shanks punches him. Tackles Shamrock to the ground, rough and graceless, and punches him again. Then he seizes the high collar of Shamrock’s shirt, pulls him upward, only to SLAM his head against the ground. “What. Did. You. Do.”
That little voice again cautions him, urging Shamrock to remain silent. It’s a testament to how stunned he is from the repeated impacts that he momentarily entertains the idea. And yet- there is still a fire roaring within him, anger, pure anger, only anger, and if he cannot take aim at the one who properly deserves it, who gave him a gleaming, glittering dream of what the future might hold only to rip it away in an instant, well. His twin is the next best target.
“I sought my pleasure,” he rasps, doing his best to sneer. “I offered a bargain, and she laid with me willingly. Twice, even. I would’ve given her a good life, in the Holy Land, but instead she turned out to be just like you, and now she’s gone.”
“Gone where,” Shanks growls. He sounds like an animal. Looks like one too, face twisted up in a howling rage that is worlds away from Father’s disdainful scowl and yet they both twist Shamrock’s gut the same damn way-
“Leapt into the ocean,” Shamrock spits, his own fire surging forth, giving him the strength to shove when the grip upon his collar slackens, when Shanks falters, disbelief twisting at his scarred face. “Killed herself and my child,” his brother flinches, badly, it’s enough of an opportunity for Shamrock to knock him aside entirely and follow, reversing their positions, bringing his own fist down as hard as he can, “I could have been a father! A better one than him, and certainly better than- than- YOU!”
His bare knuckles collide, for a third time, with the damp ground, just next to where Shanks is staring up at him in stupefied horror. He’s supposed to hit Shanks. He needs to hit him, to kill him, to vent this fire before it burns Shamrock up from the inside out-
A gun fires.
He doesn’t move in time to avoid the bullet.
It’s hardly as if even an Armament-covered projectile can actually harm a Knight of God, but the distraction serves its purpose, making him flinch away in a move that would see disdain and the worst sort of corrective lesson from Father. Two of his brother’s crew dart in, seize their captain, and haul him back to the ship with its full sails and oars at the ready. By the time Shamrock manages to stand, the vessel is underway, far enough he can’t ambush them from the overhead trees again.
He glares at Shanks, braced against the rear railing with his one remaining hand, until the face that matches his own disappears from view.
Only then does Shamrock slowly trudge to the tree where Cerberus waits, alone.