The thing about humans is that they are not naturally suited for prolonged life at sea, especially when they have never set foot on a sailing ship before. Unlike the modern, gigantic sea cruises designed for pleasure, the Red Force rocked with each swell of the waves and gust of the breeze. It took exactly two minutes and thirty seconds after Ann stepped aboard for her to empty her entire breakfast into the ocean (she knew that because Hongo had told her). By the time she raised her head and stopped heaving, gathering enough courage to give them hell, the island was no longer in sight.
"My late captain used to say seasickness passes faster if we tie a sailor to the main mast for a couple of days," Shanks said wistfully, much to Ann's horror, as he patted her back. "Hey kid, let's give it a go."
"There is medicine for that, you brute," Hongo interjected, whisking her away before Shanks could say another word.
She was expecting a dirty prison cell or at least a dank, windowless room. Instead, she was brought to an infirmary—a pretty decent one at that. Ann struggled to come to terms with the fact that Hongo was a real doctor. His medical degree was hung on the infirmary door for anyone who dared to question his qualifications.
After a while, it became clear that whether or not they had intended to confine her, there simply wasn't any need. Ann, one of many victims of the Grand Line weather, had spent an entire week in bed, sick with fever and motion sickness. What was left of her fight now lay at the bottom of the ocean along with her meals.
One fine morning, Shanks burst into the infirmary, vibrating with excitement. "You look better today! Come on, I gotta show you something." He pulled her out of bed, and they were out of the infirmary before Hongo could finish yelling, "Let her finish her breakfast!" Feet barely touching the ground, Ann was half-carried, half-dragged to the opposite end of the ship.
Finally, he stopped and deposited her unceremoniously in front of a room. Shanks grinned, eyes shining bright with the same intensity he had when he suggested tying her to the main mast. Uh-oh. She had a really bad feeling about this. She almost jumped out of her skin when he slammed the door open.
"Surprise! Do you like it? You have your own room now," he beamed, clearly very pleased with himself.
Ann sagged with relief. It was a decent-sized room that housed a large ornate wooden table in the center, a floor-to-ceiling cabinet, and a small bed by the window. Piles of random junk littered the floor and table—tribal necklaces, a headpiece, a bunch of bananas, leather pouches, piles of oversized clothing, boots, animal skulls, human skulls, pots, pans, ladles, cannonballs, knives, and guns. A lot of knives and guns.
"Wow, thanks—a lot. I really appreciate this. But I don't want to be a bother. The infirmary is fine." It was a struggle to keep her face straight. This was by far the weirdest kidnapping ever. She couldn't wait to get to the next island; she'd take off so fast, Shanks would end up with whiplash.
"No! It's not fine. It's—haunted. Infested with ghosts," he whispered. She looked at him skeptically. "I swear on our flag. It's the truth! Last time I slept there, I woke up in the middle of a hallway with no pants."
"Hongo dumped your drunk ass outside and stole your pants. You're lucky he didn't leave you naked," Beck suddenly appeared, grinning. "Captain, you're needed on deck. Better hurry before you miss out on all the fun." Shanks muttered something about getting his favorite pants back and swiftly left.
"What do you think? This used to be Shanks' office. He gave it to you because it's the only room with an attached bathroom. The rest of us use communal showers. You'll have to share it with Shanks, though. His bedroom is right next to yours," Beck explained.
"It's really nice. But I, umm, really don't want to impose on you guys. I can sleep in the infirmary. Where's Shanks gonna do his paperwork?" she laughed weakly, heart starting to constrict from all the weirdness.
"He never uses it. I handle all the paperwork. If we leave it to Shanks." He grimaced. "Let's just say, after Gecko Island, we will never let him do that kind of work again."
Beck ushered her in, almost tripping over the junk scattered all over the floor. "A crew member should at least have her own bed. See all this stuff? They're from the guys. They'll feel deeply hurt if you refuse."
Ann swallowed, the last thing she wanted was to offend anyone. Any pirates. She didn't want to be sleeping one moment and wake up with a shiv in her guts. Okay, that only happens in prison, but being stuck on a ship with nowhere to run felt similar.
He picked up a frying pan from the pile on the table and waved it around. "Why would Lucky Roux think you needed this? Hmmm Interesting. Anyway, you'll have to wear oversized clothing until we get to the next island. We—uh, didn't have any undergarments for a little girl. Bear with it for a while. Unless you wanted to borrow one of the guys' underw—. Okay, never mind. I'll shut up now." He hurriedly retreated as Ann's cheeks grew increasingly red.
Bullied into moving to the room, Ann became Shanks' reluctant neighbor. This meant she, by default, had to keep up with all the craziness. The first time he woke her up in the middle of the night, she ended up punching him in the throat.
"Damn, kid, you really know how to punch," he wheezed slightly, rubbing his neck.
"What—why—uh, Shanks? What do you want?" Ann sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He looked worried. "You were having a nightmare. Are you okay?"
She frowned, feeling the dampness of her clothes and the hot wet tears on her cheeks. She tried to remember but failed to recall the dreams. "Sorry for waking you up. I didn't mean to. I promise I'll be very quiet," she said softly.
Shanks took her hand. Noticing how small and soft it was against his own. "It's okay. I couldn't sleep tonight anyway. Come on, it's time for a pantry raid," he said excitedly and gently pulled her out of the room.
They sneaked to avoid the night guards and slipped into the pantry, deep in the bowels of the ship. It was a quiet place, peaceful. Far from the noises on the deck. Shanks weaved expertly between rows of shelves and stacks of crates, beckoning Ann to follow.
"Here it is, the good stuff. Lucky Roux hid it here from everyone. But he can't hide it from me," he chuckled mischievously, sticking his hand deep between the wine barrels and handing her a packet of beef jerky.
"Why are we sneaking around for beef jerky? Can't we just ask Lucky Roux for it?" she asked as they sat down on the floor.
"When I was young, I used to have a lot of nightmares. Buggy would wake me up, and we'd sneak into the pantry. Over time it turned into a competition. The cooks were so annoyed they set up traps to catch the thief. The captain got caught once, and Rayleigh was so angry he punished him to scrub the floor all week," he laughed wholeheartedly.
"I don't get it," she said.
Shanks smiled and ruffled her hair, eliciting a protest. "It's okay, one day you will."