Chapter 7: A Message

As Sige stood outside the tavern lost in thought, faint footsteps approached from behind.

Someone’s here?

Instantly, Sige erased all traces of hesitation from his face. As the "legendary Mountain Bandit King," maintaining dignity was paramount—especially after his drunken theatrics. If the Red-Hair Pirates saw through his act now, it would spell disaster.

He cleared his throat and adopted a low, resonant tone. “You’ve come.”

Turning slowly—a boss must never appear rushed—he fixed his expression into stern impassivity. In a world where Observation Haki existed, sensing visitors through footsteps or aura was basic etiquette. Even without Haki, the facade had to hold.

The burden of maintaining a boss’s image is so heavy…

Pride swelled briefly—I’m a natural actor—until his gaze landed on…

Empty air.

A soft “Woof!” drew his eyes downward. A small white wagged its tail cheerfully.

Sige: “…”

Before embarrassment could sink in, the tavern door creaked open. Shanks stepped out, scratching his head.

“Ah! There you are, Sige-san!”

Adjusting his demeanor, Sige replied coolly, “Just… reflecting on old memories. The night clears the mind.”

Shanks sighed. “Luffy snuck off and ate the Rubber Fruit while we were drinking. Now he can’t swim. Maybe he should become a Mountain Bandit King…”

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Sige stiffened. He hadn’t noticed the theft earlier—too busy safeguarding his act.

“Plenty of Devil Fruit users sail the seas,” he countered. “Losing the ability to swim teaches reliance on comrades. No one becomes Pirate King alone—not even Roger.”

Shanks chuckled. “True… But with the Rubber Fruit gone, our plans in the East Blue are moot. We’ll set sail tomorrow. Shame we can’t share more drinks.”

Tomorrow? Sige nearly broke character. Red-Hairs leaving? Thank the seas! Keeping up the charade around legends like Shanks was exhausting.

Forcing regret into his voice, Sige gazed solemnly at the stars. “A pity. Few remain who remember the old days.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Shanks said cryptically, fishing a Den Den Mushi from his coat. “Our contacts in the Grand Line just relayed… interesting news.”

——

Elsewhere, on the Stormy Seas

A naval warship cleaved through midnight waves, its prow carved into a colossal dog’s head.

“Too slow! Speed up this ship!” roared Vice Admiral Garp, fists slamming the command table.

A sweat-drenched officer protested, “Sir, we’re already at max speed! And… our mission in the East Blue isn’t classified as urgent—”

“NOT URGENT?!” Garp’s shout rattled the windows. “You sluggards! Can’t you sense the storm brewing?!”

The crew froze. Had Fleet Admiral Sengoku issued a top-secret directive? Why else would the Hero of the Marines rush to the weakest sea?

Garp leaned forward, eyes blazing. “Red-Hair Shanks has been spotted in Windmill Village.”

A collective gasp. “Are we… engaging a Yonko?!”

“Hah! Shanks is child’s play!” Garp boomed. “My grandson Luffy lives there! That red-haired fool’s gonna corrupt him!”

The officers blinked. This was the crisis?

“Worse!” Garp slammed a fist, cracking the table. “Luffy’s seven now! SEVEN!”

“…Sir?”

“SEVEN MEANS HE’S A MAN!” Garp declared. “Time to train him into the Navy’s finest!”

The room plunged into horrified silence. Memories of Garp’s brutal training regimens—with a 90% dropout rate—flashed through every officer’s mind.

One brave soul dared, “Sir, even adult recruits can’t survive your methods…”

“RECRUITS?!” Garp looked genuinely offended. “Luffy’s my blood! He’ll get a routine TEN TIMES TOUGHER!”

As the crew silently prayed for Luffy’s soul, Garp grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Gonna forge that boy into steel!”