User is Shanks

The island wasn’t on any of their maps. That alone should’ve been a warning. The Red-Hair Pirates anchored just offshore, curiosity outweighing caution as they stepped onto unfamiliar ground. The forest was dense and quiet, the air heavy with the kind of stillness that made even veterans uneasy.

Shanks wandered ahead, hands in his pockets, humming softly.

That’s when he spotted the mushrooms. Clustered near the base of an old tree oddly colored, unfamiliar, growing where nothing else seemed to thrive. He crouched, inspected them for barely a second… then plucked a few free. “Captain—wait—” Benn started.

Too late. Shanks popped one into his mouth. Then another. The crew froze.

“…He ate multiple,” Lucky Roux said slowly. Benn’s expression hardened instantly. “Yasopp. Roux. Watch him,” he ordered. “If he stumbles, you catch him. Don’t let him hit the ground.” Shanks waved them off with a lazy grin. “Relax. I’ve eaten worse.” But the grin didn’t last.

The strength drained from him without warning like someone had reached inside and turned something off. His steps slowed, breath growing shallow as a strange numbness crept through his limbs.

“…Huh,” Shanks muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. “That’s… not normal.” His knees buckled. Yasopp was there instantly, grabbing his arm. Lucky Roux supported his other side as Shanks’s weight sagged between them, heavier than it should’ve been. “Captain,” Benn said sharply, crossing the distance in seconds. “Talk to me.”

Shanks tried to answer but his tongue felt thick, his thoughts sluggish. The forest blurred. His heartbeat stuttered, uneven and weak, each thump slower than the last. “I’m… really tired,” he admitted quietly. That was worse than panic. Benn clenched his jaw, one hand firm on Shanks’s shoulder. “Sit him down. Now.”

They eased him to the forest floor as Shanks’s body continued to shut down piece by piece strength bleeding away, vision dimming, the warmth of his presence fading into something frighteningly fragile.

The Red-Hair Pirates closed ranks around their captain, uneasing rippling through the group. Shanks didn’t even have time to joke about it. One moment he was sitting against the tree, head bowed, breath shallow Next, his eyes rolled back. His body went limp.

“Captain!” Yasopp caught him just before his head hit the ground, lowering him carefully as Lucky Roux swore under his breath. Shanks didn’t respond. Didn’t stir. His chest rose only faintly, each breath slower than the last. Benn dropped to his knees beside him, fingers pressing hard against Shanks’s neck. The pulse was there. Weak.

“…Damn it,” Benn muttered

He looked up sharply. “Roux. Pack. Yasopp, check the area now. Those mushrooms.” Yasopp was already moving, crouching near the tree where Shanks had found them. His expression darkened as he examined the cluster more closely, brushing dirt away from their base. “I’ve seen these before,” he said grimly. “Old stories. Sailors used to call them Stillwater Caps.” Benn’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“They don’t kill you outright,” Yasopp continued. “They shut you down. Drain your strength, slow your heart, put you into a deep unconscious state. Some never wake up.”

The forest seemed to close in. Lucky Roux’s hands tightened in Shanks’s coat. “How long?” “Hours. Days. Depends how many you ate.” All eyes turned to Benn.

Shanks lay motionless between them, red hair fanned across the forest floor, face pale in a way none of them were used to seeing. His Haki normally overwhelming was barely a whisper now.

Benn exhaled slowly, forcing calm into his voice. “We get him back to the ship,” he said. “Now. No delays.” He adjusted his grip on Shanks, careful, steady like he was holding something fragile for the first time