"Buggy, huh…"
Shanks blinked at that, then let the breath out with a rueful smile. He did not try to talk Ozz into staying. "It has been ages. I wonder if he is still mad at me."
"Six years since Loguetown," he added, scratching his cheek. "We split there and never crossed paths again. Do you know where he is now, Ozz."
Ozz nodded. "My News Coo network covers almost the whole sea. Unless Buggy crawls into a cave in the mountains or camps on the seabed, I can find him."
Shanks had the decency to look sheepish as the obvious finally landed. Of course. Ozz had simply appeared on the rail of the Red Force as if he had always been there. Shanks had not even asked himself how.
"So that means no one can slip your eye anymore."
"That is the idea," Ozz said with a smile. "How else would I be on time for every bit of fun."
"You," Shanks muttered, teeth set, feeling that old, irritating pressure he had not missed at all. On Roger's ship it had often felt like he was living under Ozz's shadow. He had finally gone to sea, finally made his own crew, finally set his own course, and now he discovered the shadow had never moved.
Annoying. Deeply.
…
Ozz left, taking Mihawk with him. One blink and no trace of them remained on the Red Force.
Elsewhere, on a shabby little East Blue harbor, the Buggy Pirates were in high form.
"Captain Buggy," a lookout yelled, stumbling in through the tent flaps. "Suspicious figures on the shore."
The townsfolk, thoroughly terrorized by the tyrant with the terrifying bounty of nine million berries, kept their heads down and prayed nothing would splash on them. All of this was over a treasure map whose authenticity was, to be generous, optimistic. It showed a big red X somewhere in the town. That was enough for Buggy.
"What," Buggy snapped, eyes gleaming. "Pirates. So quick on the scent, are they competing with me for my treasure."
"Show them who we are," he crowed, striking a heroic pose in orange mantle and clown getup while his crew of carnival freaks whooped and clapped. "We are the world-shaking, town-taking Buggy Pirates."
"Yeah," they roared, because that is what good henchmen do.
The beast tamer Mohji and the lion Richie were dispatched at once to teach the interlopers respect. With that settled, Buggy turned to a much more serious matter.
"Cabaji, how is the orange survey going."
The first mate, scarf fluttering, hopped his unicycle in place and produced several papers with a flourish. "Captain, these are islands in East Blue known for their tangerines."
"Let me see."
Buggy's grin went sharp and narrow as he scanned the list. The more he read, the more his expression petrified.
Every single island had a Marine base. Why were there Marines everywhere. How was he supposed to occupy anything like this.
His finger slowed over one name and lit up again. Cocoyasi Village. Barely any Marines on site, the nearest base inconveniently far.
He was choosing a date to conquer the place in his head when a scream dragged him back to the present.
Two shapes lurched into view, both bruised to the bone. One was a white-haired man with a bandage turban, the other a lion with a black eye the size of a plate. Mohji and Richie, returned in disgrace.
"What happened to your faces," Buggy demanded.
Mohji tried to explain, which would have been easier if his cheeks were not swelling as he spoke. It came out as a series of painful syllables and wet sniffles.
"Unforgivable," Buggy roared, exploding into his Chop-Chop parts, hands and feet flying in outrage. "Who dares lay a hand on my men. I will personally destroy the."
"Easy, Buggy," a voice said, warm and familiar.
Buggy did not hear it. He bristled harder. "Who is it. Who dares call me by name without Captain attached."
"Buggy, captain," Cabaji squeaked, wobbling off his unicycle and pointing at the tent flap with a shaking hand. "Look."
"What do you mean, you-uh."
Buggy froze halfway through the insult. His mouth opened and no sound came out. He worked his jaw twice before two syllables scraped free.
"Ozz."
The man himself stood outside the tent, having just hopped across half an ocean for no better reason than to see an old friend. He raised a hand and waved.
"Sashi buri dana, Buggy," he said, long time no see.
"OOOZZZ."
Buggy flew apart completely, literally, feet left behind as the rest of him launched across the tent. Tears and snot sprang from nowhere, spraying in comic arcs. His arms clamped around Ozz with a crack as if he meant to weld himself there.
"It really is you. It has been so long."
"You are overdoing it," Ozz said, laughing, and teleported them a step sideways so the worst of the fluids dropped harmlessly to the canvas instead of his coat.
Buggy sniffled, hiccupped, clung harder. "You. You became a king of the sea and forgot me."
Ozz felt a neat dart of guilt. It was true he had been busy, and it was true he had not reached out. "Sorry. I have been running. But you are my best brother, Buggy. Forget you. Never."
Buggy wanted to be mad longer. It was difficult with Ozz right there, the way he had always been, easy and unguarded. Ozz made it harder by producing a neat stack of oilskin bundles from nowhere.
"For penance," Ozz said. "Treasure maps. All yours."
"Really."
Buggy dropped away like a magnet switching poles, both hands snatching the maps before the last syllable was done. His eyes shone. He did not even blink.
Because Shanks lied about maps. Because Shanks thought pranks were funny. Because Shanks had never once brought him a map that led anywhere except a stupid barrel in a stupid warehouse with a stupid note.
Ozz did not lie to him.
He never had.
Cabaji leaned over his captain's shoulder and saw detailed routes and soundings and notations in a hand he did not recognize. Mohji stopped whimpering and stared. Richie wiped his eye with a paw and leaned in as well.
Buggy hugged the maps, then hugged Ozz again, then hugged the maps harder. He clattered back together and cleared his throat, trying and failing to look dignified.
"Of course I knew you would come," he said loudly to anyone who would listen. "Because Ozz would never forget me. And he would never lie to me."
Ozz smiled. "Never."
Outside, the wind off the harbor kicked the tent ropes and rattled the stakes. The townsfolk glanced up the street and crossed themselves in whatever ways they knew. Inside, a clown with a gaudy cape and a heart too soft for his own legend beamed like a lantern.
"Captain," Cabaji ventured, eyes still on the maps. "About Cocoyasi Village."
Buggy coughed into his fist and tried to look like a mastermind whose plans ran decades deep. "We will discuss strategy later."
Ozz raised an eyebrow. "Tangerines."
Buggy immediately turned pink. "You did not hear that."
"I hear everything," Ozz said cheerfully. "News Coo."
Buggy made a strangled sound, then laughed in spite of himself. The sound shot out of the tent and spilled down the street and for some reason the townspeople relaxed a fraction, as if the weather had changed.
"Come on," Buggy said, abruptly brisk. "We feast."
He threw his arms wide at his men, who erupted on cue. Drums banged. A trapped chicken was liberated and roasted. Somewhere a barrel appeared. Ozz let himself be dragged into the center of it and watched Buggy swagger from man to man, barking orders and clapping shoulders and stealing bites off plates.
There were a thousand reasons to call him small. There were a thousand others to call him captain.
Ozz caught his eye across the fire and tipped two fingers off his brow.
Buggy pressed the maps to his chest as if they were a promise and grinned back like a boy who had gotten exactly what he wanted for once in his life.
Later that night, when the noise had dropped to a friendly thunder and the harbor had gone still, Cabaji would swear he heard his captain talking in his sleep.
"Shanks lies," Buggy mumbled happily, "Ozz does not."
The wind pushed at the tent again and again, trying to listen in. The stars threw down a little extra light, just enough to silver the edges of the maps.
In the morning, the Buggy Pirates would set a new course. Somewhere in the East, a village full of tangerines would keep on ripening. Somewhere between them, fate sharpened its knife and smiled.
For now, an old bond was enough.
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