Chapter 59 – Divine Departure
Something about it was… unnatural.
The colossal trench that split the sea floor hadn't been filled by seawater. Not because it wasn't connected to the ocean—but because something unseen held the tide at bay. As if the ocean itself refused to touch that void.
A scar the sea rejected.
On the deck of the Red-Haired Pirates' ship, silence gripped every crewmember. Faces pale, eyes wide, no one spoke.
No one but one boy.
"Sugoi! Sugoi!" the child shouted, leaning eagerly over the railing, completely unaware of the sheer absurdity of what he had just witnessed.
Luffy, young and wide-eyed, turned toward Shanks, his voice full of innocent wonder.
"Hey, Shanks! What did you just say back there?"
Shanks smiled gently, shaking his head. The boy had no clue what kind of power had just been unleashed in front of him.
Over the past few days, Shanks had been teaching him the values of freedom, adventure, and what it meant to be a pirate—not just in name, but in spirit.
And now… he'd made his decision.
He no longer intended to take Luffy with him.
Not because of fear. Shanks had never feared anyone, not even death.
But because…
Luffy was still too young.
A mere six or seven years old. Too bright, too wild, too unshaped for what lay ahead.
The path they were about to take led to the New World—the most dangerous stretch of sea on the planet, where monsters roamed and death came in silence.
His crew had already prepared their hearts for the risks. They knew what it meant to sail beyond the Grand Line's midpoint.
But Luffy?
He was still just a kid.
With that, Shanks quietly removed the Straw Hat from his head—the one he cherished more than anything.
He bent down and placed it carefully on Luffy's head.
"This hat… is my treasure," he said, voice soft. "I'm entrusting it to you. One day, when we meet again… and you've become a great pirate… return it to me, okay?"
Luffy froze, eyes wide, both hands clutching the hat tightly.
Then—
Shanks looked up, his voice rising across the ocean winds.
"If you want to take Luffy… you'll have to beat his captain first!"
"Vice Admiral Seiryu! Come down here—let's settle this man-to-man!"
— — —
Kyūjō didn't refuse.
In fact, part of him welcomed it.
He understood that the fight was necessary—to preserve the "story," to push the world forward without tipping its balance.
He had no intention of killing Shanks. That would destabilize the seas far too much. The world was already watching his every move. Even the Gorosei were growing wary of the rising storm.
No. Shanks had to remain part of the world—for balance.
— — —
Soon, on a remote island near Loguetown, the two men stood facing each other.
Kyūjō and Red-Haired Shanks.
Ten meters apart.
Blades at their sides.
"…Shanks," Kyūjō spoke first, brows furrowed slightly. "Don't you have anything better to do than drag a kid like Luffy into your mess?"
Shanks laughed and scratched his head.
"Maybe it's fate. A bond tied long ago, without me even realizing it."
"…That makes no sense," Kyūjō muttered, half to himself. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.
"…What part of it doesn't make sense?" Shanks tilted his head.
Kyūjō didn't answer.
He couldn't explain that in the original timeline, Shanks never made a move like this. That this entire path had shifted… because of him.
He was the butterfly that caused the storm.
Still, he tried one last time.
"Leave Luffy. I'll let your crew go free. You know better than anyone… you can't beat me as you are now."
Shanks simply chuckled and slowly drew his blade—Gryphon—from his hip.
His eyes gleamed with a challenging light.
"If you're not planning to arrest me… maybe I'll buy you a drink sometime."
"But right now… we fight."
"Draw your blade, Kyūjō."
With a smirk, Kyūjō unsheathed Rairyūken—the black blade forged from thunder, now refined into one of the Great Grade Swords, rivaling even the Supreme 12.
Shing—!
The sound rang out like a whisper of thunder.
"…I'll be waiting for that drink," Kyūjō replied calmly.
Shanks blinked.
"Waiting… for me to offer it?"
He's… not even trying to capture me?
This Vice Admiral really is something else...
— — —
And so, with different beliefs—but equally strong resolve—their silent duel began.
Time passed.
Hours went by, blades clashing again and again, the island echoing with steel and breath.
At first, Shanks held his ground.
But slowly… something felt off.
Kyūjō's strikes were overwhelming. Every swing of Rairyūken came with monstrous power. But… the speed?
Not slow.
Not fast.
Just right.
Fast enough that Shanks could barely react.
But not fast enough to think.
A rhythm he couldn't adapt to. A tempo that forced him to defend without pause. His arms ached. His sword began to lose balance.
He's not trying to defeat me.
He's draining me. Bit by bit. Carefully.
Is this… the level of the World's Strongest Swordsman?
Unbelievable precision. Control over momentum beyond logic. Swordsmanship that didn't just attack—it commanded the battlefield.
Even in his memories, Captain Roger never fought like this.
No wonder he holds that title.
But Shanks wasn't a pure swordsman.
His blade was only half of his strength.
The other half—
Was Haki.
— — —
"…Haaah…"
Shanks exhaled deeply. His eyes sharpened.
The air shifted.
Then suddenly—pressure.
Massive, suffocating, royal pressure burst from his body in a wave, spreading across the island like a rising storm.
Conqueror's Haki.
Thick and unstoppable.
Even Kyūjō's eyes widened slightly.
Such dominance.
Such will.
A declaration that he would not yield.
Even Kyūjō's own Haki stirred in response.
— — —
Black and crimson lightning sparked between them.
The air itself cracked.
Gryphon, wrapped in Haki, pulsed like the weapon of a war god.
And then—Shanks stepped forward, his grin fierce.
He raised his sword high, his voice roaring across the sea:
"DIVINE DEPARTURE!!!"
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