The shadows cast through the young green branches shifted slowly across the smooth white sand, inching forward like a snail.
"I knew Sengoku would pull something like this."
Shanks smiled faintly. He knew the Marine Fleet Admiral—this so-called "Master Strategist"—far too well. They had crossed paths more times than he could count.
"Whitebeard and Big Mom both fell into his trap of sowing discord. Only the 'Demon King of the Deep ' leapt out of it… and now it's Kaido's turn."
Beckman stood leaning against the rough trunk of a palm tree, cigarette between his teeth.
He nodded in agreement. "The 'Buddha' Sengoku is, without a doubt, a very insidious man."
"Shanks." Mihawk rubbed the silver cross hanging from his neck, its surface glinting in the light. "The New World can't return to the old 'Four Emperors' balance. That equilibrium is shattered. What do you plan to do?"
Shanks opened the palm of his single arm, looking carefree and roguish.
"What else? Go with the flow and adapt as things come…"
The Red Hair Pirates all laughed helplessly.
"I've never been able to read you," Mihawk said, shaking his head.
"You say you lack ambition, yet in just a few short years you climbed your way into becoming a Yonko."
"But if you're ambitious… you've taken no major actions. Instead, you've done your best to stop infighting between Rocks' former crewmates."
Shanks blinked in mild surprise. "You know about the Rocks Pirates?"
"The more the World Government tries to bury something, the more traces of it appear in the shadows."
Mihawk paused, then added,
"I once considered defeating Whitebeard, Kaido, and Big Mom, so I secretly investigated their pasts."
Shanks burst out laughing.
"Ha ha ha… 'The darker something is, the more clues you'll find in the dark'—you're absolutely right, Mihawk!"
Mihawk couldn't understand what he found so funny, so he continued pressing.
"So? Shanks—what exactly are you trying to do? And when will you act?"
"Are you planning to hand the title of Pirate King over to Kaido or Davy Jones? Or are you planning to sit back, let tigers fight, and swoop in at the end?"
Shanks listened quietly, hand gripping the hilt of his sword, Gryphon, fingers brushing along its ridges. He could feel the impatience churning in his chest.
The situation had spiraled out of his control, and he had no idea what to do…
The future he envisioned was simple:
Luffy would return from two years of training—counting from the end of last year—right in time for the 20-year prophecy of Wano.
He would defeat powerful foes one after another, grow through the defeats of strong enemies and his own unyielding resolve, and eventually awaken his Devil Fruit.
But without the Four Emperors and the Shichibukai as stepping stones—
Could Luffy still awaken and become Joy Boy?
Shanks felt his composure slipping.
On an island in the New World near the Red Line, a water-powered windmill creaked slowly as it drew water, the sound gurgling softly.
Aokiji (Kuzan) sat on a small folding stool he carried with him, wearing a gray knit cap.
He had long since returned the "Justice" coat of a Marine Admiral. Now he wore only a gray-green jacket draped over his tall frame.
Round sunglasses hid his eyes as he studied an ancient book intently, not letting a single word escape his attention—until approaching footsteps broke the silence.
The newcomer was a boss of the nearby underworld black market. He recognized Kuzan instantly. Without that level of perception, he wouldn't be sitting in his position.
Then he saw behind Kuzan—and his face drained of all color.
Behind Kuzan was a small mountain of severed heads—pirates, bandits, criminals, assassins—anyone in the area who lived outside the law.
None died peacefully. Their faces were twisted with terror, and a thin layer of frost clung to their hair.
"Y-You…" The black market boss bowed deeply in fear. He didn't know why the former Admiral had summoned him.
He wanted desperately to flee, but he didn't dare. He knew he was already within Aokiji's attack range.
"Relax," Kuzan said, lifting his head slightly. His messy curls shifted beneath his knit cap.
"I need money… cash. Calculate the bounties of the heads behind me. Give me the total—discounted. The sooner the better."
The black market boss swallowed hard. Only then did he understand. But he still couldn't make sense of it.
A former Marine Admiral shouldn't need money.
Why was he doing bounty hunter work?
"H-How could I dare give you a discount? I'll calculate double. Please wait." He rushed toward the pile.
Kuzan resumed reading, though his thoughts were now unfocused.
He had seen the news of the "Charlotte Silent War" yesterday.
A major threat to the Marines had fallen—something that should have been worth celebrating,
if only it didn't nourish the rise of another terrifying enemy.
Kuzan had left the Marines; he knew he shouldn't think like someone from Headquarters anymore.
He needed to find his own path.
Perhaps mixing Akainu's brand of justice with his own ideals.
Akainu's death lay partly on his shoulders. That was the debt he owed.
Water and fire do not mix—but Kuzan believed they simply hadn't found a balance point.
Still, when he read the newspaper, he couldn't help worrying about Headquarters. He wondered whether Sengoku and Garp could handle the coming storm.
He regretted it more than ever. He should never have fought Akainu for the title of Fleet Admiral.
Even if he had ceded the position willingly, things would not be as disastrous as they were now.
But what was done was done. Regret meant nothing.
Kuzan sighed.
Then his eyes stopped on a particular paragraph. He read it carefully—and his eyes behind the sunglasses lit up with hope.
The old book, a collection of ancient legends he had painstakingly tracked down, recorded characters that existed only in myth.
He found a page on the "Sun God—Joy Boy," but he wasn't interested. He flipped past it.
Then he found the section related to the "Demon King of the Deep Sea—Davy Jones."
The first few pages yielded nothing—until he reached this line:
"The Trident of Poseidon… possesses the power to lift all curses."
Kuzan whispered the words.
He remembered clearly: Davy Jones wielded a shape-shifting black trident. All intel confirmed it.
Meaning—if Kuzan could obtain Davy Jones's trident, he could lift the curse afflicting both himself and Vice Admiral Tashigi.
But if he got near Davy Jones, he would lose rationality, sink into madness.
A perfect dead end.
Kuzan turned his palm up, staring at the pitch-black stain in the center. His eyes narrowed beneath his glasses.
Unless someone else could take the trident for him—
and remove it from Davy Jones's control.
Clatter—Crash!
Doflamingo kicked over a basin of water, the dirty wash water splattering across the luxurious carpet.
A maid rushed in, trembling as she cleaned it up, then fled with the basin.
Not far away, three men sat tensely on chairs, licking their lips nervously.
They were the three highest officers of the Donquixote Family:
Diamante of the Diamante Army, Trebol of the Trebol Army, and Pica of the Pica Army.
Doflamingo's furious shouts echoed through the dark office. He hadn't lost his composure like this in a long time.
"Charlotte Linlin was a complete idiot!" he roared, the eyes beneath his sunglasses burning with fury. "I invested everything in her, and she squandered it all!"
When he learned after the battle that Big Mom chose to load an entire ship with sweets rather than carry more of the weaponry he'd supplied—especially poison gas shells—he had nearly ground his teeth to dust.
And now everything had fallen perfectly into Davy Jones's hands.
"Please calm yourself, Young Master," Trebol croaked, mucus dripping, his appearance as filthy as ever. "At least we'll still receive a share of Big Mom's inheritance. That softens the loss."
But another executive objected.
Pica, with his shrill, high-pitched voice so at odds with his massive frame, spoke up:
"No, Trebol—we still lost. Losing Vergo, Monet, and Caesar Clown was a huge blow to our family."
"We can no longer supply Kaido with upgraded versions of the artificial Devil Fruits. The factory is still producing only the earliest batches…"