My name is Chad Cain.
Today is probably the most fucked-up day of my entire life.
In just a few hours, Red-Haired Shanks is getting married.
The bride is Big Sis Makino, the woman who watched me grow up from childhood.
This should have been a day worth celebrating with raised glasses and huge smiles.
Instead, reality took one look at that idea, sprinted in the opposite direction, and dragged me straight into an impossible nightmare.
Right now, I'm trapped in a situation so absurd that my soul is practically trying to leave my body.
And there's absolutely no escape.
That's right.
Shanks is unconscious.
That part isn't unexpected.
This entire mess was my idea in the first place, so technically I brought it on myself.
And if getting chased through the sky for half a day by an enraged Shanks radiating enough killing intent to murder me three times over only counted as a close call—
then this is the part I genuinely don't know how to survive.
Because why—
why the hell am I the one who has to bathe Shanks?!
This isn't how any of the stories go!
Isn't this normally the part where the future son-in-law and father-in-law sit together in a steaming bath, completely honest with each other?
The father-in-law puts a towel over his face and suddenly asks,
"So what exactly do you intend to do with my daughter?"
Then, surrounded by steam, the two men reach some profound understanding.
Finally, the father-in-law slaps the water so hard it splashes everywhere, laughs boldly, and says,
"My daughter is in your hands!"
That is a test!
That is acceptance!
That is how this kind of plot is supposed to go!
But what do I get?!
The father-in-law is in the bathtub, sure.
Except I'm the one washing him!
"You've got to be kidding me!"
Cain violently threw the towel in his hand into the washbasin.
Water splashed everywhere and soaked half his pant leg.
He stared in disbelief at the several Red Hair Pirates standing around with carefree expressions, as though none of this had anything to do with them.
"You're his crewmates!"
"You've fought beside him for years!"
"You're practically brothers who know everything about each other!"
"So why the hell are you dumping this job on me?!"
Every member of the Red Hair Pirates wore the same solemn, respectable smile.
They all shook their heads.
Unfortunately, the barely concealed amusement in their eyes made it painfully obvious that they were doing this because watching Cain suffer was funny.
"Well, the boss spent half the day chasing you around."
"He's covered in sweat."
"If we don't wash him properly, the bride might smell him tomorrow and run away from the wedding."
"And besides, no matter how close we are, there are still boundaries."
"Bathing another grown man is pretty private, you know."
Someone grinned.
"Besides, don't you want to be with Uta?"
"Helping your future father-in-law take a bath is a perfect chance to make a good impression."
"Don't waste it."
Cain exploded.
"WHAT?!"
"Whenever Uta and I so much as stood a little too close before, all of you looked like you wanted to chop me into eight pieces and feed me to Sea Kings!"
"But now that none of you wants to bathe your captain, suddenly you're acknowledging our relationship?!"
"Can you bastards get any more hypocritical?!"
Nobody answered.
Instead, the entire group took one perfectly synchronized step backward.
Their faces practically screamed—
This job belongs to you.
No negotiations.
Beckman watched his utterly unreliable crewmates and finally shook his head.
As expected, it seemed the vice captain would have to handle things.
"Forget it."
"I'll wash him."
Cain immediately turned toward him with overwhelming gratitude.
Beckman merely shook his head, gave Cain a meaningful look, and patted him on the shoulder.
Once Shanks had been thoroughly washed, Beckman turned and walked away without looking back.
He left behind only one casual sentence.
"Anyway, the boss is yours now."
"I really can't help with what's left."
"…What's left?"
Cain tilted his head.
Beckman stopped.
Then slowly looked back at him.
His normally sharp, intelligent eyes suddenly seemed to glow with the golden light of a demon.
The strange grin spreading across his face sent a chill straight down Cain's spine.
"Well, he's getting married tomorrow."
"We can't have him showing up with scruffy stubble, can we?"
"So you can shave him."
"And—"
Beckman's smile widened.
"Don't forget his leg hair."
"L-L-L-LEG HAIR?!"
Cain froze solid.
His jaw dropped so far a whole head could probably fit inside his mouth.
He had narrowly escaped having to bathe Shanks.
Now he had to shave his beard and his legs?!
Unfortunately, Cain was the one who had started the whole plan to knock Shanks unconscious.
Beckman had already taken care of the bath.
Compared to that, shaving some leg hair technically shouldn't have been a big deal.
Cain really had no grounds to refuse.
But…
His head mechanically turned toward the bathroom.
Shanks was sitting unconscious inside a wide wooden tub, head tilted to one side as he slept peacefully.
Soft snores escaped him.
His two long legs were hanging over the edge of the tub without the slightest attempt at modesty.
Steam had left the hair on them wet and flattened.
Cain's scalp tingled just looking at it.
So this was what Beckman had been planning.
That was why he had volunteered for the bath.
That was what the weird smile had been about.
The bastard had been setting him up from the beginning.
Cain closed his eyes in despair.
Then he grabbed an entire roll of bandages and wrapped them around his head again and again until his eyes were completely covered.
He tied them tightly.
Total darkness.
Next came a mask.
Gloves.
An apron.
Cain covered himself from head to toe and refused to look at anything.
Holding his breath, he released only the most basic level of Observation Haki.
The vague outlines of his surroundings appeared in his perception.
The wooden tub.
The movement of the water.
And the human-shaped heat source lying unconscious inside it, faintly smelling of alcohol.
Now there was only one problem.
How exactly was he supposed to shave Shanks?
Cain stopped moving.
His bandaged head slowly tilted.
A razor?
Please.
He wasn't using something that boring.
Several minutes later, Cain returned from the bar's kitchen carrying a blowtorch.
The kind normally used to sear fish or caramelize and brown the surface of meat.
With this—
Cain could deal with everything without physically touching Shanks at all.
Perfect.
He tested the weight in his hand.
Then he pointed the nozzle toward the vague outline of Shanks' lower face.
His thumb rested over the ignition switch.
"Shanks…"
"Please don't blame me."
"You're one of the Four Emperors."
"A little fire shouldn't bother you, right?"
Click.
A flame burst to life.
Still completely blindfolded, Cain began working.
Yep.
Today was absolutely the most fucked-up day of his life.
'The second I see Uta again, I'm hugging her and demanding emotional compensation.'
'Waaaaah!'
Cain swore silently to himself while keeping the blowtorch terrifyingly steady.
…
The next day.
Thirty minutes remained before the wedding.
Hongo's medicine really had been impressive.
Even Shanks had slept straight through until the following morning.
Eventually, he slowly opened his eyes.
He sat up, clutching his head.
Then he looked around.
He was inside his room aboard the Red Force.
Shanks had absolutely no memory of how he had gotten back there.
He looked down.
Even his clothes had been changed.
At that moment, several crewmates opened the door and walked inside.
"Boss, you're awake?"
Shanks rubbed his aching head.
His voice came out hoarse.
"What happened after I drank yesterday?"
"I can't remember anything."
"Oh, boss, did you black out?"
One of them laughed.
"Makes sense. You threw up everywhere."
"We had to carry you back."
Shanks frowned.
"And these clothes?"
"We changed you."
"Bought them new. How do they feel?"
Technically, the clothes had been custom-tailored specifically for him.
But the crew really had dressed him themselves.
Shanks tugged lightly at the collar.
"Not bad."
"Good."
"Then hurry up."
"Everyone's waiting for you."
Shanks stared at them with a head full of question marks.
Still thoroughly confused, he got to his feet, left the cabin, and walked toward the door.