The sea wind howled as the towering Red Force cut through the morning mist, its crimson sails billowing like the wings of a dragon. The ship sailed into the waters off Foosha Village, slowing steadily as its hull groaned while trimming into position.
"It seems," Shanks murmured with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, "we've got ourselves a grand welcoming party."
His Observation Haki spread out like a ripple across the island's coastline, piercing the veil of calm that lay over the little village. Dozens of villagers stood at the small pier—pitchforks, shovels, and rusted sabers in trembling hands. Their eyes, however, didn't waver. Behind the tree line, Shanks sensed more—a second group, more disciplined, their killing intent muted but present. These weren't farmers or fishermen. These were fighters.
"Can't blame them," Beckmann said as he lit a cigarette, the ember flaring against the ocean breeze. "We are pirates, after all."
With calm efficiency, Beckmann relayed orders across the deck. "Trim the sails! Hold anchor a safe distance off the coast. No need to spook the locals—we're not here to conquer. We're here to stay."
The Red-Haired Pirates moved with practiced ease, but the air was tense. Their recent brush with the God's Knights had left them on edge. They were hardened warriors—but not reckless ones. No one wanted to give the wrong impression, especially when this island might be their home base for the foreseeable future.
Then—Shanks froze.
His eyes, moments ago trained on the villagers, now snapped skyward, scanning the crow's nest with narrowed focus.
A sudden flicker in his Haki. A presence. Familiar...and yet, uninvited.
Without hesitation, his hand shot to his hip. Gryphon, his massive saber, sang through the air as he unsheathed it with terrifying speed. In a blur, he unleashed a flying slash—a blade of wind and Haki-infused force so sharp it split the air like thunder.
"HAAAH!!"
The slash roared upward, a silver arc screaming toward the crow's nest.
Gasps echoed across the deck as the Red-Haired crew instantly dropped into combat positions, weapons drawn. Ever since Mariejois, they'd been ready for anything. But none of them—not even Beckmann—had sensed what Shanks had just reacted to.
CLANG!!!
The sound of metal on metal shattered the moment. At the top of the mast, a sheathed black katana, encased in swirling armament Haki, intercepted Shanks' slash mid-air. The impact diverted the strike—not absorbed, but redirected with brutal elegance.
The slash carved down toward the ocean and tore into the sea, splitting the water like a divine blade. A massive deep trench opened in the wake of the attack, surging currents pulled apart as if the ocean itself had been cleaved. Waves erupted outward in twin walls, crashing violently as the scar in the sea lingered like a wound in nature.
A dark chuckle echoed from the crow's nest.
"Come now, Shanks…" I called out with a smirk tugging at my lips, letting my voice carry through the wind. Calm. Teasing. But laced with enough edge to remind him I hadn't gone soft. "Is that really how you greet an old friend? Especially when I've got little kids with me…"
I stood tall atop the crow's nest, black jacket billowing behind me like a shadow fighting the sky. In my hand, Shusui remained sheathed, humming softly with coiled Haki, its lacquered scabbard pulsing with the tension of a blade that hadn't needed to be drawn. Sparks crackled faintly along its length—compressed pressure, like thunder waiting for permission.
Just behind me, two small figures peeked over the crow's nest—Kuina, sharp as ever, her eyes focused and unreadable… and Zoro, untamed and fierce even in stillness, his wild green hair caught by the salt wind. Neither of them flinched when Shanks tried to turn the sky inside out with that slash of his.
They've already seen worse. I made sure of that.
Below, the Red-Haired Pirates stood frozen mid-motion—hands on hilts, eyes sharp, expressions a mix of disbelief and restrained instinct. They weren't afraid. No, they were calculating. Ready. It made me smile. That's how I knew Shanks had trained them well.
Then the big man himself exhaled, like the tension just slid off his shoulders, and eased his massive sword—Gryphon, I remembered—back into its scabbard. His grin widened with recognition.
"Well, I'll be damned…" he muttered, stepping forward with that trademark swagger of his, all casual menace and raw charisma. "Only one man would block a strike like that with a sheathed sword and still have the gall to lecture me about hospitality."
His red hair caught the sunlight like fire dancing on the waves, and for a moment, I almost forgot the world had gone to hell and back. I laughed softly, resting Shusui against my shoulder.
"That's rich coming from the guy who just tried to cleave my kids in half without checking the guest list first."
Kuina snorted behind me. Zoro looked like he was already calculating how far he'd have to jump to cut the red-haired man himself.
With a sharp crack of air, I vanished from the crow's nest—one arm around Kuina, the other gripping Zoro—and in the blink of an eye, reappeared on the deck of the Red Force, right in the heart of the Red-Haired Pirates' flagship.
The moment our feet hit the timbered surface, dozens of weapons twitched. Hands tightened on hilts, muskets raised a fraction—until they caught a proper look at me. Then, like a sudden storm breaking into sunlight, a collective breath of relief passed through the crew.
Shanks, already relaxed with Gryphon half-sheathed, let the blade slide fully into its scabbard. His sharp gaze flicked to my face, but I caught something else in his eyes—not directed at me. He was scanning past me. Toward the sea.
His Haki must've felt it—Mihawk. Sailing in slow, deliberate fashion behind us, far enough not to threaten but close enough to be seen. He wouldn't be thrilled if I'd dragged him around in my usual method. Hence the boat. And the drama.
But before anyone else could speak—
"WHAT THE HELL, ROSINANTE?!"
The furious screech rang out like a cannon blast across the deck, nearly making Kuina jump.
I turned slowly, knowing exactly whose voice that was. Buggy, face redder than a tomato, his nose practically glowing with rage, marched toward me like an offended noble, flailing his arms wildly.
"You absolute maniac! You don't just teleport onto a pirate ship outta thin air like some damn ghost! You scared the crap out of everyone—and you almost gave little Uta a heart attack!" He pointed dramatically to the little girl, who was now hugging a stuffed toy, blinking with wide eyes from behind Beckmann's leg. "She started crying, and I SPILLED MY RUM!"
I chuckled, brushing off the dust from my coat.
"Ah, it's nice to see you too, Buggy," I said with a smirk.
"Don't 'nice to see you' me! I almost sliced myself in half when you popped up! Zzt-zzt! Just like that! You can't go around scaring people who've got highly sensitive internal trauma!!"
"Sounds like a you problem," I muttered under my breath.
Buggy looked like he might explode into confetti.
Meanwhile, Shanks stepped forward, his focus shifting back to me. His demeanor was calm, as always, but I could sense the coil of vigilance just beneath the surface. He wasn't the type to ever let his guard fully down—even among old friends.
"You know how he is," I gestured toward the sea without looking, "Mihawk doesn't like being carried. Said something about 'dignity' again." I shrugged. "He'll be along shortly, probably with a dramatic entrance of his own."
Shanks' brow lifted slightly. "And here I thought you were the king of dramatics."
I ignored the jab and looked around the ship's deck, then back at Shanks.
"Still… never expected to find you here. East Blue's a long way from the New World, especially when the whole sea's in turmoil."
That subtle flicker in his expression returned. He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly and said, "I could say the same to you. Last I heard, Kaido was targeting your brother's Emperor status—with World Government backing. And here you are, gallivanting through the blues with kids."
I glanced down at Zoro and Kuina, who had silently taken up calm stances beside me. Zoro's eyes darted from weapon to weapon, cataloging threats like a baby predator. Kuina stood like steel in a storm—resolute and unshaken.
I met Shanks' eyes.
"Doffy can handle himself," I said simply. "Unless someone like Garp-san personally takes the field against him, he'll be fine. And if Kaido gets bold, well… he knows how to survive. If not win, he can retreat. Issho is with him."
Shanks gave a small nod. "You're confident."
I smiled faintly. "I taught him that."
"Speaking of Garp-san…" I said, narrowing my eyes just a bit as I looked at Shanks. "You do realize this is his hometown, right? Foosha Village. You're not planning to stir up any trouble here, are you?" I raised a brow, letting my smirk curl slowly across my face. "Trust me… you don't want to be pissing off that old man on matters regarding the things he holds dear."
I tapped my shoulder, remembering an old pain that still seemed to echo in my bones.
"I can still feel the last beating he gave me back in Sabaody. Didn't walk straight for a week."
Shanks laughed, that low, easy chuckle of his, brushing a hand through his tangled red hair. "You and me both. Garp doesn't throw punches—he drops meteors."
Still, I could tell this wasn't random. Fate? Coincidence? Maybe. But it felt more than that. Something—someone—was drawing the Red-Haired Pirates here. This island… this village… would one day give birth to the storm that would change the world.
Originally, Mihawk and I had only sailed out to East Blue to let Zoro and Kuina see the world beyond their small corner of Shimotsuki Village. After being cooped up in a dojo for so long, it felt like the right time to let them breathe the sea air, feel the spray, walk the decks. We'd taken a modest caravel, nothing fancy. Mihawk insisted—he hated drawing attention.
I had jumped ahead, scouting the seas as we made our way towards Foosha village, as I wanted Kuina and Zoro to meet their future friends and rivals, carrying the kids and leaving Mihawk to tend to the caravel, when my observation haki detected a familiar presence. I hadn't expected to find Shanks' entire crew moored just off the coast.
"Well," Shanks said, shrugging with a crooked grin, "I guess fate brought us to this island. It seemed like the right place to drop anchor. Quiet. Remote. Didn't know the Hero of the Marines grew up here, but hey—life's full of surprises."
I turned slowly, eyes glinting as I looked at Buggy, who was still recovering from earlier.
"Then maybe the next time I run into Garp-san…" I said casually, "I'll tell him it was all Buggy's idea."
Buggy froze mid-breath. His jaw dropped open. "D-Don't you dare! That old monster will kill me! He still blames me for that banana-peel incident from back then…!"
I winked at him. "So you admit it was your fault?"
"NO! I mean—YES—wait, NO!" Buggy sputtered, waving his arms as the crew burst into laughter again. Even Beckmann cracked a rare smile.
Shanks walked over to stand beside me, his eyes drifting toward the two children now calmly watching the entire exchange. Zoro had crossed his arms, mimicking Mihawk's stance, while Kuina stared at Shanks with analytical calm—sizing him up like a seasoned warrior despite her youth.
Shanks raised an eyebrow. "So… who are the little ones?" he asked, a bit of mischief in his voice. "Yours…? I'm deeply hurt I wasn't invited to the wedding."
I grinned. "If I ever do get married, I'll make you the flower girl."
Shanks snorted, then nudged me lightly. "Seriously though—"
"—Zoro and Kuina," I said, resting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Not by blood. But this little one here is under my tutelage…my second apprentice." I pointed to the small girl standing between them. Her bright eyes shone with determination as she smiled up at me.
"And this little marimo here," I said, resting a firm hand on the spiky green head of the boy beside me, "is Mihawk's one and only apprentice."
Zoro frowned and looked up, clearly annoyed but not surprised. I continued with a grin, voice laced with playful arrogance.
"Since the 'World's Greatest Swordsman' couldn't beat me in a proper duel, he's now settled for grooming someone else to try and surpass me. But—credit where it's due—this kid's a genius. One day, he might just go toe-to-toe with you, Shanks."
Zoro muttered something under his breath, barely loud enough to hear.
"Tch… MyMaster is the strongest swordsman in the world. Not you…"
I raised an eyebrow but didn't react. Beside him, Kuina snickered, arms crossed, a smug grin forming as she locked eyes with Zoro. Sparks flew between them—those two were like flint and steel, constantly sharpening each other.
"Is Mihawk aware you're out here calling him a sore loser behind his back?" Shanks asked with a wide smirk, clearly amused. He had always admired Mihawk's skills—even tried to recruit him more than once—but the Hawk-Eyed swordsman refused, claiming pirates were too noisy, but he knew the truth: Mihawk's loyalty already lay with Rosinante.
I shrugged, the kind that said I'd already come to terms with whatever hell might follow.
"At worst," I said casually, "Zoro will run crying to him, and Mihawk will show up demanding another duel. Just like always."
Shanks let out a hearty laugh, hands resting on his hips, coat fluttering slightly in the sea breeze. "Some things never change." Shanks gave a small nod, a quiet respect passing between us. He could tell.
Zoro stepped forward, arms stiff at his side, green eyes burning with resolve.
"I don't care who's the greatest now… One day, I'll surpass both of you."
His voice didn't crack. He wasn't joking. Shanks blinked, then glanced down at him with genuine interest. "Heh… You've got guts, kid. I'll be watching."
Kuina rolled her eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Zoro. You still get lost going to the kitchen on the ship."
Zoro turned red, fists clenched, "THAT WAS ONE TIME!"
"And that little devil peeking from behind Beckmann…" I added with a grin, raising my hand in a casual wave, "That's Uta, isn't it? She's grown up—and that Devil Fruit of hers… quite the intriguing power."
The moment I said it, Shanks' smile faltered. A flicker of concern crossed his features. Only a handful of people even knew that Uta had a Devil Fruit ability. Fewer still knew the nature of it. That information had never left the ship. Yet I spoke of it so casually.
"How do you…" he began, but stopped himself. He studied me again—this time, like a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"I pay attention, Shanks," I said, my gaze drifting to the endless horizon, eyes narrowing against the salt-laced breeze. "And by now… you shouldn't be surprised even if I told you I know where Raftel is."
The air changed.
Shanks' smile faltered. His relaxed expression froze for a fraction of a second—just long enough for everyone on the deck to feel the ripple of unease in their bones. The name of the legendary island—Raftel, the final stop of the Pirate King—hung in the air like thunderclouds gathering before a storm.
Even the wind quieted. He didn't doubt me. Not even for a moment. Of all the people who had walked the seas, Shanks knew better than most how dangerous truths could be. He had once stood aboard the Oro Jackson, learning from Roger himself… and yet there were things—things even he was never told.
And here I was, casually mentioning the name that had shattered empires and driven men mad. The entire ship fell silent. Men who had faced death dozens of times suddenly felt their throats dry, their hands twitch. It wasn't fear—but awe. Reverence. The kind of silence that filled temples when a god's name was spoken.
Then I turned back to Shanks, eyes steady. "Tell me, Shanks… do you want to know where Raftel is? Do you want to know what the One Piece truly is?"
The very question cracked the stillness like a war drum.
Zoro and Kuina tensed instinctively, their small hands gripping my sleeves. Even they felt it—the shift in gravity. The weight of the words. This wasn't a game anymore. Not here. Not now.
Buggy, who had been lounging a few steps behind, visibly paled. "W-Wait… Rosinante… you're saying you really know? You know where the One Piece is? But how?! C-Can you… Can you tell us?"
He didn't even finish the sentence.
Boom.
The deck groaned under the pressure. The very air cracked as a shockwave of Conqueror's Haki erupted from Shanks. Not a yell. Not a movement. Just a slow, deliberate turn of his head—his eyes locking onto Buggy with the full force of a king's fury.
And in that moment… the Red-Haired Emperor stood revealed.
The sky above the ship dimmed. The sails fluttered violently, wood creaked, and the sea itself shuddered as if bowing to the pressure. Several crew members dropped to one knee, sweat beading on their foreheads. The aura that radiated from Shanks wasn't rage—it was something far more terrifying.
Warning.
It was the silent, ancient wrath of a man who bore the will of giants. A man who had walked beside gods and buried monsters. His expression was calm—deadly calm. But his eyes glowed with the unspoken words: "Buggy... don't you dare ask that again."
Buggy, trembling, hands up defensively, gasped. "O-Okay okay okay! I don't wanna know anymore! I-I take it back! I like the mystery! I LIVE for the mystery!"
He dove behind a barrel, wheezing, face pale, heart thudding like a drum. Just like that… the pressure lifted. The world seemed to exhale. The wind returned. The deck breathed. The men who had been on edge slowly eased out of the tension, shaking their heads in disbelief. Some laughed nervously. Others wiped their brows.
Shanks turned his gaze away, calm once more, brushing a few strands of red hair from his face.
"…There are truths," he said quietly, "that should be earned… not given."
I smiled at that. "Well said."
Little Uta peeked out from behind Beckmann again, her big eyes filled with wonder, unaware that she had just witnessed the kind of moment that shaped legends.
Beckmann glanced down at her with a sigh. "See, Uta? That's why you don't ask about the One Piece at breakfast."
Buggy peeked over the barrel. "I think I aged five years…"
Zoro blinked. "What was that?"
"A King's Aura," I answered softly. "That's what it looks like when a man carries the weight of an entire era on his shoulders."
Meanwhile, behind Shanks, little Uta tugged gently on Beckmann's trousers, her big, curious eyes peeking from behind his long coat.
"Uncle Benn… who is that man?" she asked in a whisper. "Everyone's acting strange. Even Daddy's being quiet. He's like…"
She struggled to find the right words.
"…like the kind of monster even the monsters are scared of."
Beckmann's lips curled into a subtle smile. He placed a reassuring hand on Uta's head.
"He's a friend… well," he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, "at least, we hope he is."