The once-lively halls of the Red Force had grown eerily quiet near the captain’s quarters. Days had turned into weeks, and still, Shanks remained locked away, unseen by his crew. The ship, usually alive with his laughter and carefree spirit, now felt hollow without it.

No one knew why.

The crew whispered among themselves, wondering what had driven their captain their unshakable, ever smiling leader into seclusion. They left food at his door, relieved when the trays were emptied, proof that he was at least eating. But beyond that, there was nothing. No answers. No explanations. Just a closed door and silence.

Inside, Shanks lay sprawled on his bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling, his body heavy with exhaustion. His breaths were slow, labored. His throat burned. The once pristine sheets beneath him were stained with crimson petals, delicate yet damning evidence of the sickness ravaging him from the inside out.

The Hanahaki disease.

Love, unspoken. Love, unreturned. And now, love, turning against him

He clenched a fist against his chest as another wave of pain surged through him, forcing him to bite down a cough that threatened to spill more petals from his lips. He had been fighting it enduring it alone, as he always did

But then… a knock

The sound echoed in the quiet room, and Shanks inhaled sharply, willing himself to push down the weakness threatening to surface

Another knock. Closer this time. Someone wasn’t leaving

He forced a grin onto his face, even though no one could see it. Even though it felt like a lie

“Do you need something from me?”

A chuckle, hollow but practiced.

“Hah! I’m fine, so don’t worry. I can’t help you right now, so just ask someone else, alright?”

The silence on the other side of the door stretched too long.His fingers curled weakly into the sheets.And deep down, in the quiet of his room, surrounded by petals of a love that would never bloom and he already knew that