After listening to Tesoro's explanation, Shanks felt as if he'd been hit head-on by a Sea King. He was in a state of absolute shock. He knew Takero's way of thinking was different from that of ordinary people, but to deliberately beat up a Celestial Dragon just to lure out an Admiral for a fight? This wasn't just recklessness. This was like deciding you wanted to die, then steering a pirate ship at full speed and charging straight into Marineford's headquarters.
The expression on Shanks's face shifted rapidly, moving from extreme shock to blank confusion, before finally settling into a look of utter despair, as if his life was over. His temples throbbed, and he felt his famously low blood pressure skyrocketing past all physical limits.
Don't get angry… don't get angry… Shanks frantically repeated in his mind, trying to grasp at one last straw of hope. Maybe the kid doesn't even know what a Celestial Dragon is? Yes! That must be it!
However, the moment that thought appeared, it was mercilessly crushed by cruel reality. Did Takero not know? Of course he knew. Based on Shanks's understanding of the boy, all that talk about righteous justice was nonsense. That kid was clearly just looking for a strong opponent. He was purely after a fight. Although it was Vice Admiral Borsalino who showed up in the end, it was close enough. With Borsalino's strength, a promotion to Admiral was only a matter of time. Realizing this only made his headache worse.
What was Shanks's ideal life? It was to drink fine wine, sing songs, and freely chase after Captain Roger's One Piece on the high seas, enjoying one happy adventure after another. He had never planned on starting an unending blood feud with colossal powers like the World Government and the Celestial Dragons.
"Takero… you brat are really trying to get me killed!" Shanks exclaimed, his voice filled with grief and indignation.
He regretted it. He deeply regretted it. He never should have invited him to join the crew back on that deserted island. He wasn't picking up a new crewmate; he was inviting a walking catastrophe onto his ship.
He painstakingly turned his stiff neck to look at his crew members, who were all equally stunned, their expressions frozen in a state of collective shock. He then made a decision so contrary to his adventurous spirit that it would have made Captain Roger jump out of his grave to hit him.
"Beckman!" Shanks's voice carried a hint of a tremor, but it was exceptionally firm. "Notify everyone! Immediately! Right now! Pack our things… we're running away! We're leaving this cursed place! The farther away from that little rascal, the better!"
After shouting his order, he abruptly turned to Tesoro and quickly instructed him, "Buddy! If that bastard Takero comes back, just tell him this—'Captain Shanks and the entire crew wish you a pleasant journey! Please make the rest of your trip on the Grand Line a splendid one on your own!' We… are leaving first!"
To hell with the spirit of adventure! To hell with camaraderie! If they stayed with this guy any longer, the Red Hair Pirates would probably be at the top of the World Government's most-wanted list by tomorrow.
"Ah? Oh, oh, okay." Although Tesoro was completely confused, he saw the look of sheer panic on the faces of these pirates and instinctively nodded in agreement.
Meanwhile, Takero, still completely unaware that he had just been ruthlessly abandoned by his captain, was straining with all his might, chasing that dazzling golden light across the azure sky.
"Stop! You flashy bastard! If you're a man, don't run! Come back and finish this fight with me!" Takero's roar echoed through the clouds.
Far ahead, Borsalino, who was single-mindedly rushing back to Marineford to clock out, heard the sound and glanced back in surprise. "Hmm?!" The sight almost made him lose his form. What in the world?! How can this kid fly?! We were fighting on the ground just now, and now it's an aerial battle? Is there no end to this?!
However, at that moment, his mind was completely filled with thoughts of "reporting a shocking conspiracy," "staying away from that jinx," and "getting off work for tea." He had no time to try and understand yet another illogical phenomenon. Clocking out was all that mattered. The thought of his warm office and a relaxing afternoon without any fighting made Borsalino's speed instantly surge again. The trail of golden light he left behind was like a meteor streaking across the sky.
Takero, on the other hand, had only just learned how to fly and wasn't very good at controlling it. Facing Borsalino's full-power, light-speed escape, his own speed simply wasn't enough. He could only watch helplessly as the golden light grew smaller and smaller in his vision before eventually disappearing completely over the horizon.
"Bastard! You coward! You scaredy-cat!" Takero cursed angrily in the empty air. "You're a Marine, and you're running away in the middle of a fight! Do you have any dignity as a strong warrior?!"
His curses sounded powerless in the vast, empty sky. He chased for a while longer, but the other man had long since vanished without a trace. He had been in the middle of an exhilarating fight, his blood boiling and his fighting spirit high, but his opponent had simply pulled the plug and run away. The frustration was like winding up for a full-power punch only to hit a soft piece of cotton. It was annoying. Extremely annoying. A feeling of stuffiness clogged his chest, with nowhere to vent his anger.
"Damn it all—!!!" Takero irritably scratched his hair. "If only I had a punching bag right now… no, if only I had someone strong enough to take a good beating!"
...
At that same moment, in the sky above a stretch of sea not far from Takero, a completely different figure was also moving at high speed. He wore a flashy, pink feather coat that billowed in the wind, sported a head of spiky golden hair, and had a pair of orange sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He habitually bared his teeth in his signature, wicked smile.
His method of travel was unique. With elegant flicks of his fingers, nearly transparent, tough threads shot out from his fingertips, connecting to distant clouds. Using these invisible aerial ziplines, he glided and soared through the sky at high speed, like a puppeteer controlling his strings.
This person was one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, the infamous underworld broker known as "Joker," and a former Celestial Dragon—the Heavenly Yaksha, Donquixote Doflamingo.
"Fuffuffuffu… Drum Island should be close now, right?" A strange laugh scattered in the howling wind. Doflamingo's mood was a mixture of playfulness and a hint of gloom. Ever since he had received a report that someone was causing trouble on Drum Island and had even attacked a Celestial Dragon, he had immediately set off. He normally couldn't be bothered with minor matters, but when Celestial Dragons were involved, he had to go himself. It wasn't that he felt any kinship with them; it was purely to avoid trouble.
Drum Island was one of his important territories, with many intricate underground dealings. If the Gorosei used this incident as an excuse to accuse him of lax supervision, it would be a major headache, even with his status as a Warlord and a former Celestial Dragon. Of course, besides clearing his name, a strong sense of curiosity stirred deep within him: what kind of madman would dare to pick a fight with a Celestial Dragon?
This curiosity made him pull the threads tighter, increasing his speed. As he was gliding, his sharp gaze suddenly caught a small black dot in the distant sky.
"Hmm?" Doflamingo's lips curved into an interested arc.
As the distance rapidly closed, his pupils behind the sunglasses constricted slightly. That wasn't a bird or some piece of debris. It was a… strange kid with a tail, surrounded by a dark red aura, just floating in the air.
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