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Shiryu was a man of brutal efficiency.
His Haki pinpointed the largest gathering of life in the village—a place called "Partys Bar." Without a second thought, without a flicker of hesitation, he drew his blade and unleashed a devastating, long-range slash.
The attack held enough power to cleave Foosha Village clean in two.
The crescent-shaped blade of energy shot forward, leveling trees and houses in its path, a storm of green, ghostly light.
"Let the slaughter begin, Chinjao," Shiryu said, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
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"Bwahahaha!"
"Hey! That is my meat!"
"Hahaha, Shanks, leave Luffy alone!"
"He is only three. He gets juice."
Inside the bar, a raucous party was in full swing. A crew of pirates, each one overflowing with personality, laughed and sang, their voices rising in a boisterous chorus of Binks's Brew.
Behind the counter, a green-haired woman named Makino smiled at the chaos as she polished a glass. Seated at the bar, a straw hat perched on his head, was a young man with striking red hair and a longsword, Gryphon, at his hip.
"Red-Haired" Shanks.
His crew, the Red Hair Pirates, had sailed together for two or three years. Their original plan had been to take their time and travel the four seas, honing their strength before entering the New World around 1510.
The world was changing too quickly.
Arthur's Thunder God Pirates were consolidating their power at an alarming rate. The New World had already become a bloody stalemate, a battleground for emperors.
As everyone could see, the Thunder God Pirates' recent quiet spell did not signal weakness—it was the calm before the storm. They were digging in and fortifying their rule. Once they solidified their position, they would become untouchable.
If the Red Hair Pirates lingered in the so-called weak seas, they would arrive in the New World only to find it completely locked down, with no room left for a new contender.
Benn Beckman, the crew's brilliant first mate and strategist, had already foreseen the future. A great war loomed ahead. The Four Emperors War. All the simmering feuds and ambitions of the last few years were about to erupt. It would be a stage fit for a king.
At Beckman's urging, Shanks had accelerated their journey. They would complete their tour of the East Blue this year, and then they would make for the Grand Line.
To arrive late would be to arrive defeated.
No one could predict what kind of waves a crew of their caliber would make when they finally hit the big leagues.
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"Shanks! I am a man now! I am going to be a way better pirate than you, so give me some booze!"
A tiny, three-year-old Luffy danced on his barstool, his voice a milky lisp, his arms waving wildly as he tried to assert his manhood, furious that Shanks had taken his drink.
"Bwahahaha! You hear this guy? Three years old and he is a man!" Shanks howled, pounding the bar, all trace of an emperor's dignity gone.
The entire crew erupted in laughter.
"Hmph!"
Luffy, deeply insulted, turned his back on them and stomped off to a corner to sulk. His eyes landed on a small wooden chest the crew had brought in—loot from their last raid.
While no one watched, he snuck over, opened the lid, and pulled out a strange, patterned fruit about the size of his own head.
He began to eat.
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The laughter in the bar cut off abruptly.
Shanks, his mug halfway to his lips, froze.
That… that is incredible, bloodthirsty Haki.
In the same instant, Beckman, Yasopp, and Lucky Roux rose to their feet, their expressions grim as they stared at the door.
"An enemy?"
"Do not overthink it," Shanks said, his smile gone. He drew Gryphon, its steel singing in the sudden silence. "If it is an enemy, we knock them down. Two of you, protect Makino and Luffy."
He stepped in front of the bar, directly in the path of the oncoming attack, and unleashed his own Conqueror's Haki.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
The two forces collided, and the world exploded.
The shockwave, centered on the bar, annihilated the surrounding buildings. Stone and wood splintered, and a massive cloud of dust and debris choked the air.
In an instant, half of Foosha Village vanished.
Villagers screamed and ran in terror from the sudden, apocalyptic destruction.
"Protect the villagers!" Shanks roared, his playful demeanor replaced by the cold focus of a captain.
That single exchange told him everything. The man who had sent that slash was dangerously strong.
"Everyone! Get behind the pirates!" Mayor Woop Slap shouted, making the smartest call of his life as he urged the panicking villagers to clear the new battlefield.
The dust began to settle.
Shanks stood amidst the rubble, his black cape billowing, his crew fanned out on either side of him. They were furious.
"A village like this," Shiryu mused, his cigarillo clenched in his teeth, his smile widening. "And I still run into someone worth taking seriously?"
"I know you," Shanks said, his eyes narrowing. "The Thunder Emperor's right hand. Shiryu of the Rain, the most bloodthirsty man on the seas. And the Ogre, Don Chinjao of the Happo Navy."
He felt no fear, only disgust.
Shanks's way of the pirate was one of freedom, adventure, and sailing the world with his friends. If "pirate" meant "evil," then the Red Hair Pirates were the exception. They had no patience for those who murdered for sport.
"Before I kill you," Shiryu said, he and Chinjao standing side by side, "—you have the right to tell me your name."
"Shanks." He pointed Gryphon at the swordsman. "Now tell me why the First Captain of the Thunder God Pirates is in a place like this, attacking civilians."
He could not stop all the evil in the world. He refused to watch it unfold right in front of him.
"Oh?" Shiryu's eyes, which had been casual, suddenly filled with a cold, red light. "So you are the one. The brat who challenged my captain all those years ago."
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