Shiro recognized the female giant instantly—it was Ripley.
She stood nearly eighteen meters tall, her long wine-red hair tied into two fluffy twin tails that swayed with each step. A fitted suit of leather armor hugged her figure, emphasizing both the alluring curves of a woman and the strength of a warrior. Every movement radiated a unique charm.
"Gaban, are these two your friends?" Ripley asked, halting gracefully, her warm smile easing the tense atmosphere.
"Y-yes!" Gaban's weathered face flushed crimson. He scratched the back of his head nervously, his eyes darting away like a flustered youth experiencing first love. "I'm bringing them to collect some Treasure Tree Adam. Elder Jarul should be expecting us."
"Then don't keep him waiting. The elder was just asking for you." Ripley rested her hand on her hip, still smiling—though a subtle glimmer of amusement flickered at the corner of her eyes.
Watching from the side, Shiro rubbed his chin and thought to himself, So Uncle Gaban hasn't won Ripley over yet. This is a crucial step on his road to becoming the strongest man. I'll have to find a way to give him a push.
Soon after, Gaban led Shiro to meet Elder Jarul. With the elder's blessing, they secured several planks of Treasure Tree Adam. The wood was a deep, rich brown, its grain dense and unyielding. Holding it in his hands, Shiro could feel its raw, steady power.
After thanking the elder sincerely, Shiro pressed a paw to himself and Flam, warping them away from Elbaf in an instant.
Meanwhile, in Water 7, Master Tom leisurely sipped his prized rum, assuming it would take Shiro at least half a month to retrieve Adam. As he slumped drowsily in his chair, he caught sight of two familiar figures at the shipyard door.
He blinked hard, convinced it was the liquor playing tricks. "Weird… why do I see two Shiros and two Flams?" he muttered.
But then Flam dashed forward, gripping Tom's massive hand and babbling excitedly about Elbaf—plants taller than houses, animals the size of hills, and the vibrant life of a giant's village.
Tom's drunken haze evaporated. His eyes widened at the sight of Treasure Tree Adam in Shiro's hands, his jaw dropping so wide a rum bottle could fit inside. He hiccuped twice, then thumped his chest.
"Shiro, my boy! Don't you worry! With Treasure Tree Adam, I'll build you a ship that'll outrun even the Navy's warships!"
Shiro grinned and nodded, leaving Tom a Den Den Mushi number for contact before departing Water 7.
He knew it would take at least three months to craft a ship sturdy enough to carry the strongest of men across the harshest seas. That time would be perfect for making preparations.
First, he named the yet-unbuilt ship: Virtue.
His pirate crew would be the Pirates of Virtue, a name that carried both force and refinement. Of course, the definition of "virtue" would ultimately be decided by him, the captain.
Second, he needed reliable crewmates. A ship's helm couldn't be trusted to just anyone—he needed a skilled helmsman. Shiro's thoughts drifted to the Fishman Jinbe. When it came to navigating and steering across the seas, few could rival him.
But before seeking Jinbe, Shiro decided to revisit a small fishing village in the East Blue. Years ago, before Roger's capture, he had lived there quietly as a doctor, running a modest clinic. His sudden departure had left behind a few belongings.
With a flicker of air, Shiro's teleportation landed him in that familiar clinic. Dust coated the wooden desk, untouched since his hurried exit. He began gathering his old possessions when a soft but urgent knock echoed at the door.
"Tok, tok, tok."
Shiro frowned, set down his things, and opened the door. Standing outside was Jilian, a scrappy boy of about ten, wearing patched-up clothes and a sun-darkened face. His eyes gleamed with wit and worry.
"Jilian, what's wrong? Feeling sick?" Shiro asked, scanning the boy for scrapes. The kid was notorious for climbing trees and raiding bird nests with the older children, often earning bruises.
"No, it's not me." Jilian bit his lip, anxiety on his face. "There's a man at the village entrance… he's blind. He's in a grass hut, playing cards with some local punks. They're cheating him—stealing all his money just because he can't see!"
"Blind and still gambling?" Shiro muttered, his brow twitching. "Doesn't sound like the sharpest tool in the shed…"
He had lived in the village for some time and had never seen such a man before. Clearly, this was an outsider.
"Brother Shiro, please come!" Jilian tugged at his sleeve, nearly in tears. "If this keeps up, he'll lose everything! Those thugs always bully people—if you hadn't beaten sense into them before, who knows what else they'd be doing by now!"
Shiro sighed. "All right, let's see what's going on."
The boy's relief was instant. Together they hurried toward the village entrance.
From within the makeshift grass hut came raucous laughter and jeering.
"Blind man, you've only got five points! We've got six! Hahaha, you lose again! Hand over your money!"
Shiro's eyes narrowed. He recognized the voices—it was the same band of loafers he had once punished for harassing the weak.
So they'd gone back to their old ways. This time, their target was a blind outsider.
T/N: If you would like to read up to 20 chapters ahead for all my works, check out my P@treon: patreon.com/GhidorahWriter
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