One Piece: The user of the Nen-Nen Fruit, who overturned the sea.

While Roy was helping Amazon Lily increase its strength.

Let's go back three months.

Having just fought the Roy Pirates, the Red-Haired Pirates left Beehive Island and once again became street urchins.

The Red Fowles cleaved through the waves of the New World, the dragon head statue on its prow gleaming with a dark gold luster in the setting sun.

Shanks sat at the bow of the ship, one leg dangling over the side of the gunwale, a jug of wine in his hand.

His signature straw hat was hanging on the cabin door handle behind him, the brim swaying gently with the rocking of the ship.

"Still thinking about Beehive Island?"

Beckman came out of the cabin, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and sat down next to Shanks.

Shanks took a swig of his drink and grinned.

"How can I not think about it? That guy—"

"Roy, how exactly has he trained all these years?"

He looked down at his right hand, which was holding the sword. That hand had not fully recovered since the duel on Beehive Island. Although the crack on his thumb had scabbed over, he still felt a faint stinging pain every time he gripped the hilt of the sword.

"I used all my strength but still couldn't touch him."

"It's not that we haven't encountered it."

Beckman slowly exhaled a smoke ring.

"Didn't your last cut leave a gash in his shoulder?"

"That's called an opening?"

Shanks shook his head with a wry smile.

"It was just a scratch, barely any blood. But that knife was really pressed against my neck—half an inch closer and you'd be calling me 'Headless Shanks' now."

Beckman chuckled, a rare occurrence, but didn't reply.

He knew Shanks wasn't complaining or frustrated.

He was simply thinking that he wasn't strong enough, and how to become stronger.

"Don't worry about it, Shanks!"

"The Red-Haired Pirates have now established a firm foothold in the New World."

Beckman spoke, his tone as calm as if stating a fact.

"He controlled more than a dozen islands, escaped unscathed from the Golden Lion three times, and fought Whitebeard head-on twice without losing a single person."

Big Mom also suffered losses because of us.

Kaido is still cursing and swearing, but at least he hasn't actually started a full-scale war with us.

Beckman paused, looking at Shanks' profile:

"But you should know that we are able to stand firm because the five emperors check and balance each other."

Whitebeard stared at Kaido, Kaido stared at Roy, Big Mom stared at everyone, and Golden Lion was still recovering from his injuries.

Once this balance is broken—once one emperor falls, or two emperors join forces—our territory and military strength will be utterly insufficient.

"I know."

Shanks placed the flask on his lap, gazing at the last rays of the setting sun on the distant horizon.

That's why I'm in a hurry.

Shanks stood up, his right hand resting on the hilt of Griffin's sword. The veins on the back of his hand were slightly bulging.

"Roy isn't much older than me, but his strength has reached the point where he can go toe-to-toe with Garp."

When I fought him, I could tell that he wasn't using his full strength.

He only used a portion of the awakened abilities of the Nen-Power Fruit—gravity suppression, mental storm, and spatial teleportation—he didn't use them to their fullest extent.

He was just testing me, to see how much I'd improved in the last three years.

"Since you know this, you should understand it even more."

Beckman also stood up, brushing the ash off his trousers.

"He's not an enemy. At least not now."

"Of course not."

Shanks turned around, his signature, slightly roguish smile returning to his lips.

"Precisely because he's not an enemy, I'm even more determined to catch up with him. That Roy guy is even acknowledged by Captain Roger!"

Beckman looked at Shanks' smiling face, remained silent for a few seconds, and then smiled too.

He reached out and patted Shanks on the shoulder.

"Alright, stop enjoying the sea breeze here."

"Laki Lou roasted a whole sea monster tonight; if you don't go soon, there won't even be any bones left."

Shanks laughed heartily and turned to walk towards the cabin.

He took a few steps and then stopped, looking back at the sky of the new world—in the direction of Beehive Island.

"See you next time,"

Shanks muttered to himself, his voice so low that only he could hear it.

"I won't lose again."

The banquet in the cabin was as lively as ever.

Raki Lu roasted a whole sea monster on the deck, the grease dripping into the fire and sizzling, the aroma of the meat wafting far and wide.

Yasopp leaned against the mast, wiping his sniper rifle, humming a tune he'd picked up from who-knows-where.

Lime Jones and Benk Punch were arm wrestling, and the table creaked under their weight.

Shanks had just sat down and hadn't even picked up his chopsticks when the lookout at the bow suddenly whistled a short whistle.

"Captain! Deserted island spotted to port! There seem to be people on it!"

"people?"

Shanks put down his chopsticks and walked to the ship's side. His Observation Haki instantly spread out, his senses probing in the direction indicated by the lookout.

It was indeed a deserted island—very small, no more than a few hundred meters in diameter, with only a few crooked coconut trees and a patch of messy bushes.

But at the edge of the bushes, there was a faint sign of life.

It was very small and light, like a flame that could be extinguished by the sea breeze at any moment.

"Move closer," Shanks ordered.

The Red Fox slowly approached the deserted island, its hull scraping against the near-shore reefs with a low, grinding sound.

Shanks was the first to jump off the ship, wading through knee-deep water onto the beach.

He walked very fast, so fast that Beckman couldn't keep up.

A little girl was huddled in the bushes.

She was wearing a tattered dress with a large piece torn off the hem, revealing two thin, bony calves.

Her pink and red hair was covered in sand and dead leaves, hanging down her shoulders at an awkward length.

What's most striking is her hairstyle—two small buns tied on either side of her head, shaped like two rabbit ears, except that one of the "ears" had completely collapsed and was covered in mud.

She must have heard footsteps, because she instinctively flinched and then looked up.

Shanks had seen similar looks many times in his life. On the battlefield, in the ruins after every great battle, there were always children like this crawling out of the rubble, their faces still bearing the traces of tears they hadn't had time to wipe away, their eyes filled with fear and confusion.

But in this girl's eyes, besides fear, there was something else. Something very thin and weak, yet burning with all its might.

"What's your name?"

Shanks crouched down, bringing his line of sight to the girl's.

The girl opened her mouth, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible:

"...U...Uta..."

"Uta?"

"A good name."

Shanks repeated the name, then held out his hand, palm up, in front of the girl.

Uta looked at the hand.

The hand was large, with calluses all over the knuckles, and a freshly scabbed scar on the web of the hand.

But the hand moved slowly and steadily, without any aggression.

She hesitated for a long time before finally reaching out her small hand and placing it on that big hand.

The moment my fingers touched Shanks' palm, they were gently and firmly grasped.

"Walk."

Shanks stood up, took the girl's hand, and walked towards the Red Fox.

"I'll take you to the boat. We'll go eat meat."