𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 ➳ 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚 (one piece fanfic)

Shanks' POV

The moment he set foot on the battlefield, a stifling silence spread. Cautious and wary glances followed him as all watched the thundering cloud that had just arrived.

His emotions were bottled up and simmering beneath the surface, quietly boiling as he took in the state of the battlefield. Bodies stretched as far as the eye could see as both sides had continued fighting a war long ended.

No one met his eyes, but all followed his every move, curious as to his purpose. What was one of the four Emperors doing here? When the main purpose of the war had already managed to escape?

Shanks' crew silently watched over from the sides, silent in the middle of the tension. They carried themselves with all the heaviness deserving of their reputation. It was an odd contrast to their usual easy going nature, but they carried it with ease.

The red head stepped lightly on the ground, his steps carrying him through the heart of the battlefield, straight to where a heated confrontation was still ongoing.

Standing straight on one side were two of the most powerful marines of their generation, arguing loudly. On the other side, alone and bloodied, a woman was staring at them with all the wariness of a wounded cat. And if her heavy breaths were any indications, she was barely hanging on to her consciousness.

Glancing around, he could see craters littering the ground around them, signs of a hard fought battle. And if the blood dripping from her still arms were any indications, she had been responsible for most of them. Behind her back, her wings made for a sorry sight, crumbling around the edges, and drenched in the blood of her enemies—papers kept falling off, no longer able to stick together. She was falling apart as fast as her wings were. But still she stood, panting, guard raised to their highest. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Attacking a weak lady is cowardly..." Konan muttered, watching helplessly as Sengoku's attack headed her direction. She hadn't seen or felt him, standing behind her.

As he intercepted Sengoku's attack, Shanks quietly let her fall down, "Good job." He caught her before she could hit the floor. Her body was light in his arms, her blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt, warm and sticky against his skin. He adjusted his grip on her, making sure not to worsen her injuries before glaring at the two marine officers in front of him. "Good evening, gentlemen."

Garp nodded a hesitant greeting back, not sure what to make out of the sight in front of him. He wasn't blind yet, however much he wished he was at the moment. He didn't know how to feel about the situation.

However Sangoku very much knew how he felt. Angry, frustrated and slightly overwhelmed. All in all, he knew that after the whole fiasco he would probably retire. How nice a peaceful beach vacation would be, he thought as he faced Shanks. The consequences of this failed war would be disastrous, in terms of human lives, reputation, power.

Shanks remained still, not making a move. Both parties stared at each other before Sangoku finally broke the silence.

"We can't let you leave with her."

"Can't you?" He smiled, his Haki spreading like a thick blanket over the battlefield, making people drop like dead flies. "Are you sure?"

Sangoku frowned, sweat dripping from his forehead, "Will you really start a war for her?"

"Will you?"

There was a tentative standoff, both trying to see who was bluffing. Shanks wasn't. His Haki became heavier and heavier to bear.

Sengoku frowned as he saw his men fall down, foaming at the mouth. Only a tenth of his people managed to remain conscious, one knee on the floor. His pride or their lives, Shanks seemed to silently say.

It wasn't difficult to choose. Pride wouldn't keep them alive. So he conceded. "Konan is dead." He turned around, forcing Garp to follow him, "Leave my men alone."

Shanks let go of his Haki, silently retreating, carefully holding Konan in his arms. "Let's go," he told his men as they all retreated.

The war was finished.

The moment Shanks set foot on his ship, Hongo took over, "We have to be quick, bring me a bucket of water, set her in the infirmary," they put her slowly on the bed, as his hands worked quickly to get rid of her superficial clothes to assess the damages. "All of you get out." When he saw Shanks linger anxiously, he snapped, "Now."

Once left alone, he started working, cleaning up the most important wounds, disinfecting the nasty ones, bandaging the ones he could.

A full day later, he finally came out of the room, arms trembling and eyes half-closed. He grabbed the first person he saw—Shanks. "Watch over her, if anything happens, wake me up."

Shanks sat at her bedside for the rest of the day, observing the weak rise of her chest every time she breathed, watching the frown that sometimes appeared on her forehead as she started tossing in her sleep. He grabbed her hand, smoothing out her frown, whispering calming sentences to her till she calmed down once again and settled back into a deep sleep.

If tears escaped her eyes, along with some slumbering whispers, he chose not to notice. He simply wiped them away, and ignored the pain in his chest as he registered the name she was whispering. 'Yahiko.' He knew what that name represented for her, and hated it for that. A failed hope, a sunken dream, a reminder of her weakness. A ghost of the past that continued to haunt her nights.

He grabbed the wet towel and wiped away her forehead, watching her face settle back into a more peaceful state as she relaxed under his care. As frustrating as it was, it was all he currently could do.