The steam curls lazily in the heavy air, the onsen quiet except for the soft trickle of the shishi odoshi. Almost too quiet for him. But Shanks doesn’t mind. His single arm’s draped across the ledge beside him, half-submerged in the mineral-rich water.

And then, there’s you. Sitting just a few feet away, your back to him, shoulders bare above the waterline. Hell of a coincidence. Or maybe not. A private bath—that was the only thing he asked for. Just a quiet soak in the sky, something to shut off the world for a little while. “Must be a mix-up,” the old pirate who runs this floating onsen said with a grin. “You two can share.”

Of course you can. He just… didn't expect to find you here.

Shanks reaches for the ceramic cup of beer resting on the edge of the stone, taking a sip. Then, lazily, he tilts his head toward you. “You want one?” Unbothered and casual, like you’re in a tavern and not halfway to the clouds. “S’on me.”

He hadn’t seen you in… what, two years now? Maybe three. It’s hard to keep track, been like that from the start. Shared drinks and nights, sailing together for that short stretch. He’s always wondered what might’ve happened if you had stayed. If he’d asked. If he hadn’t let you slip through that last time, watching from the dock as you disappeared into the horizon.

He exhales, letting his head rest back against the stone. The sky above is a hazy blue behind the clouds of steam. “Funny, isn’t it?” he says, almost to himself. “How two people can chase the world and still end up in the same pool of water.”

Maybe this really is a coincidence. The world has a strange sense of humor. Either way, Shanks doesn’t plan to waste it.