There was no official announcement of his death in the papers for two reasons. One, he was a pirate and there was no reason for the World Government to officially acknowledge his passing. Two, this was the Grand Line. There was no reason to assume he was dead.

Except for the fact that he was.

His crew knew it, even if it pained them so much to admit it. They wondered who they should tell. In the end, they passed word to only four other pirates, and asked if they could at least show up at the burial. They weren't expecting any response.

Except they were wrong.

It rained that day. There was no reason to assume that it wouldn't. It didn't matter. It was too insignificant a detail. The crew was considering setting sail when their guests showed up. This surprised them at first, but then realized that it really shouldn't.

The first to show was Mihawk. His huge sword was still strapped to his back. There was no reason for it not to be there. The Shichibukai stood there, staring at the tombstone with those eyes of his. He stood off to the side, as not to disturb anyone else. There was no reason for him to do so.

Next was Buggy, his make-up not ruined despite the downpour. His face was contorted into a scowl, and he had nothing to say. He simply took one look at the simple monument sticking out from the ground and turned away, arms crossed.

Colossal Whitebeard, now restricted to a custom wheelchair pushed by Jozu, was third. He too stared at the grave marker, the barrel of rum threatening to break under his grip. He gulped it down, his crescent mustache becoming stained by the alcohol. Then he tossed the barrel over his shoulder and continued staring at the grave.

The last arrival came later, running through the rain, splashing mud over his sandaled feet and shorts. A spectacular captain's coat covered his shoulders, flapping in the wind. He skid to a halt, away from the others, but still able to view the grave. His face was simply one of disbelief, his eyes wide and mouth gasping for air. He had grown since the crew last saw him: taller, broader, with small patch of whiskers growing on his chin.

One by one, the visitors departed, save for the last person. He stayed, standing in the same spot, even long after the crew decided to leave. Eventually, the rain stopped, the only light coming from the moon shining above the ocean.

Slowly, cautiously, he walked over to the grave, stopping in front of it. Kneeling down, he touched the engraving on the grave marker, as if telling himself that it was real. Ignoring the tears now falling down his face, he reached up and took off his hat.

The hat. The one that made him famous, the one that he named his crew after. The hat that he promised to return when he became a great pirate to the man who gave it to him.

Monkey D. Luffy, the current "Pirate King", looked down at the straw hat in his hand, then back up at the tombstone. He reached out and placed the hat on the top of the simple stone cross. Even now, in the middle of the night, the yellow straw and red ribbon seemed to glow brightly. Luffy stepped back, staring again, tears still falling.

"I told you I'd bring it back, Shanks," He said, his voice wavering. "And I did. I brought it back."

The hat shifted a little in the sea breeze, almost as if Shanks himself was raising it up as a thank you. Luffy seemed to see it this way.

"You're welcome, Shanks. I got it busted a few times, though… Nami always fixed it for me, so it should be good as new…" Luffy bowed his head, sniffed a couple of times, then started walking back to the Thousand Sunny, with his mud-splattered clothes and legs, and – for the first time in several years – a hatless head.

Then, as an afterthought, he turned back to the grave and said, "Hey, when I die, let's meet up, okay? I want to show you how much stronger I am!"

The hat did not move, but Luffy didn't care. He already knew the answer. That was fine with him. He was sure it was fine with Shanks, too.

That's all that really mattered, anyways.

FIN