"Hey, Shanks."
South Blue, somewhere on an unmarked stretch of sea.
A red-hulled ship with a simple dragon figurehead cut the swells at an easy pace. At the bow, a young man in a straw hat read the day's paper.
He looked up only when someone called his name. "What is it, Beck?"
"Nothing much." The big man with slicked-back hair took the cigarette from his mouth as he walked over and plucked the paper from Shanks' hands. "Is it another article about Ozz?"
"Huh? What makes you say that?"
Benn Beckman flicked the pages open, smiling at Shanks' guilty face. "Because every time you read this carefully, it is about him."
Shanks scratched his cheek. Maybe he was that obvious.
"It is not about Ozz this time. It is a duel with Rayleigh. I have not seen the old man since we got off the Oro Jackson."
"That so." Beckman's eyes narrowed. He scanned the column, and it was exactly what Shanks claimed. Still…
"If I am not mistaken, the man called Hawk-Eye is Ozz's first mate. Shanks, you…"
"Ah… ahaha…"
Their banter cut short when a shout carried down from the lookout. "Captain. Pirate ship ahead."
Through his scope, Yasopp had caught the silhouette on the horizon.
"A pirate ship? Bad timing," Shanks said, seizing the chance to change the subject. "Prepare to fight."
The other vessel drew closer. Even at a distance they could see the deck piled with newly stolen treasure. Whoever they were, they had just plundered a prize and were trying to slip away.
"Good haul," Hongo said, staff tucked under one arm as he pulled a folded dossier from his coat. "I have something on them."
"Reliable as always," Shanks said, taking the sheet.
"Save it," Hongo muttered.
He skimmed once, then lost interest. "Not a big name."
The other crew had clearly mistaken the Red-Haired Pirates for small fry and steered straight in. The choice did not go well for them. In short order, Shanks' men had them down and their spoils gathered in a heap.
"Treasure. Enough for a lot of banquets," someone crowed.
Shanks grinned and popped the lid on one of the chests. Not jewels. Not gold.
A baby.
"How did you get in here?" he blurted. "Did those pirates kidnap you?"
Strangely, the child stopped crying the instant the lid rose, then burst into giggles at the dumbstruck faces leaning over the edge, then started wailing again.
Panic rippled through the deck. A ship of grown men does not make a nursery. Shanks took a breath and resorted to a silly lullaby, half-humming, half-singing under his breath.
"Sleep now, little one."
"Quiet as a feather."
The child hiccuped, then giggled again.
Shanks froze, a distant image stirring loose from an old drawer in his mind.
"Feels like when Captain Roger found you, doesn't it," a voice said behind him.
Steel rasped all over the deck. Years of fighting had taught the Red-Haired crew to move first and think later. Weapons came to hand, points and sights snapped toward the source.
Even Shanks jolted, a thin line of sweat beading at his temple. His Observation Haki had not even twitched. When had he gotten so close?
Then recognition swept his face clean. He turned slowly.
Sunlight fell on a tall young man standing easy at his back, coat and long hair lifting in the wind. He smiled as if the drawn guns and naked blades were scenery, and walked forward through them with no more concern than a man passing through smoke. His eyes were only for Shanks.
"Long time no see, Shanks."
Shanks' whole face brightened, all youthful bravado and unguarded joy. "Ozz."
The crew lowered their weapons by degrees. "A friend of the captain," someone said in relief. "Ozz, was it."
Silence fell a heartbeat later as the name connected. All eyes went wide.
"What?"
"Black Emperor Ozz."
Even Benn Beckman, who had heard Shanks' stories more than anyone, went very still. A name that could press an era flat, a living legend, had stepped onto their deck. In the shadow of that legend, they somehow forgot he was the same age as their captain.
While Shanks and Ozz laughed like brothers meeting after years apart, the second guest to climb the rail let his gaze drift over the crew. Dracule Mihawk counted blades the way other men counted coins. Not many. Only one worth crossing.
If the crew felt the weight of the two names they had just welcomed, the two names themselves felt nothing but simple pleasure.
"It has been too long, Ozz."
"Party," Shanks yelled, flinging an arm wide. "Throw a party for Ozz."
A roar answered him. They might be strangers to Ozz and uneasy under the press of his reputation, but if their captain said celebrate, they celebrated.
Ozz took his place without fuss and set a line of expensive bottles on the table, the kind that cost millions of Berries per case. He drank only this brand, he said. Everything else scratched his throat.
A little time and a lot of cups did the work that introductions seldom could. Beckman, Lucky Roux and the others found the Black Emperor easy enough to be around. Shanks, drunk on reunion, slung an arm over Ozz's shoulders and another over Mihawk's, talking too loudly and laughing too hard. Ozz did not mind. Mihawk did. He sat straight as a post and let the captain's words bounce off him like rain.
Beckman drifted over, and Mihawk found himself answering a few questions.
"It is a headache sometimes," Beckman said, watching his captain shout a toast for the third time in as many minutes. "A leader who is that irresponsible."
Mihawk's eyes slid toward Ozz, then back. "I know someone like that."
They both smiled, the way soldiers smile when they recognize a wound on someone else.
The baby had fallen asleep in a coil of sailcloth, tiny fist curled against its cheek. Yasopp crouched beside the chest and scratched at his beard, softening despite himself. Lucky Roux ferried plates, humming. Hongo compiled a list of the rescued crew to hand off to the nearest Marine base for extradition. The deck rolled on the swell, lanterns swung, and the Red Force felt, for a little while, like the center of an easy world.
Beckman stepped away and came back with a fresh paper. "If you came for a duel, you will get it," he said to Mihawk. "But you might stay for a song. Shanks only sings when he is happy."
Mihawk said nothing. He lifted his cup.
Ozz leaned on the rail a moment, eyes on the line where sky met sea. Shanks joined him, shoulders bumping. "You came quietly," the redhead said. "You scared them."
"I knocked," Ozz said.
"You did not."
They laughed.
"Where is Buggy these days," Ozz asked.
"Making trouble for himself," Shanks said fondly. "As always."
Ozz nodded. "We will visit him after we pick up Little Sand."
Mihawk's mouth twitched. "I told you that earlier."
"You absolutely forgot."
"Only for a moment."
"Captain," Yasopp called. "The baby is smiling."
Shanks turned and the grin that took his face made him look even younger. He scooped the child up and swayed a few steps to the leftover rhythm of his silly lullaby.
"Sleep now, little one."
"Quiet as a feather."
The crew cheered their captain and cheered their guest and broke into another round. Bottles knocked together. Music scratched awake. On the edge of the light, Mihawk touched the hilt on his back, then let it go. Tomorrow would have its match.
Tonight, they feasted.
Ozz raised his cup to Shanks. "To old friends."
Shanks clinked back. "To the next era."
The baby gurgled, and for a second it sounded like agreement. The sea answered with a soft slap on the hull, and the Red Force sailed on.