The ship burst free from the raging currents, its hull rocking violently for a brief moment before finally leveling out. The roaring waters behind them faded into the distance, replaced by an eerie, unfamiliar calm.
With a heavy splash, two figures dropped unceremoniously onto the deck.
Shanks lay flat on his back, soaked from head to toe, red hair plastered to his face. Beside him, Giovanni sprawled out in much the same state, chest heaving as seawater dripped from his clothes and hair, pooling beneath them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Giovanni's eyes lit up.
"That was AWESOME!" he shouted, slamming a wet hand against the deck.
Shanks burst out laughing, rolling onto his side. "Right?!" he said, water flying from his hair. "I've ridden Reverse Mountain three times in my lifetime, and it never gets boring. Not even once."
Giovanni sat up quickly, excitement practically radiating off him. "Let's do it again!"
The words hung in the air.
Building Snake, still gripping the wheel, froze completely. A single thought echoed through his mind as he slowly turned his head to look at the two of them.
Do the people in this crew have no sense of fear?
Before he could voice that concern, Benn Beckman calmly exhaled smoke and spoke up.
"That's not possible, Gio."
Giovanni blinked. "Huh? Why?"
Beckman shifted slightly, resting his weight against the railing, his tone casual but firm. "Reverse Mountain only works one way. The currents force ships up the Red Line and dump them into the Grand Line. There's no return flow."
He gestured lazily behind them with his cigarette.
"Once you're out, the water behind you is moving the opposite direction and it's stronger than anything your ship can push against. Trying to go back down means fighting the combined pressure of four seas."
Giovanni's grin slowly faded as Beckman continued.
"You wouldn't descend," Beckman said evenly. "You'd stall, lose control, and get crushed against the rock walls or torn apart by the turbulence at the peak. Even if you somehow pointed the bow downhill, the currents wouldn't carry you. They'd rip at the hull from every side until something broke."
Giovanni stared at him.
"…So," he said slowly, "we can never ride Reverse Mountain again?"
Shanks pushed himself up to a sitting position, a small, knowing smile on his face.
"No," Shanks said. "If you want to ride Reverse Mountain again, there's only one way to do it."
Giovanni leaned forward. "Which is?"
"You have to leave the Grand Line," Shanks replied. "That means sailing all the way through it, reaching the end, crossing the Red Line from the other side, and coming back through one of the Blues. Only then can you approach Reverse Mountain from the proper direction again."
He looked out toward the vast, unpredictable sea ahead.
"There are no shortcuts. The Calm Belt blocks normal passage, and the currents won't let you turn back. Until you've survived the entire Grand Line and found a way over the Red Line… this is the only direction."
Silence settled over the deck for a brief moment.
Then Giovanni's expression changed.
His eyes sharpened, excitement turning into something fiercer, something determined. He clenched a fist.
"Well then," he said, grinning, "what are we waiting for? Let's finish this Grand Line starting with Sabaody Archipelago!"
Shanks chuckled. "No, wait a minute."
Giovanni paused. "Huh?"
Before he could ask more, Shanks straightened, placing his hands on his hips. "Before we head to Sabaody Archipelago, I want to go greet an old comrade of mine."
Giovanni tilted his head. "Comrade?"
Shanks' smile widened, tinged with nostalgia. "Yeah," he said. "Crocus. The doctor of the Roger Pirates."
---
The door to the Loguetown Marine office slammed shut as Smoker stepped inside.
His coat was still damp from the sea air, white smoke curling instinctively from the tip of his cigar as he crossed the room with long, purposeful strides. Papers were scattered across his desk, reports half-finished, but he ignored all of it. Without sitting down, he reached for the Den Den Mushi.
His thumb pressed down.
The snail's eyes popped open.
Far away, at Marineford, a Den Den Mushi rang sharply inside a large, orderly office.
Stacks of documents towered over the desk, stamped with seals and marked with emergency classifications. Sengoku, Fleet Admiral of the Marines, paused mid-motion. He adjusted his glasses, then reached out and picked up the receiver.
"This is Fleet Admiral Sengoku," he said, voice calm and authoritative.
On the other end, Smoker's voice came through, steady and direct.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku. This is Captain Smoker from Loguetown in the East Blue. We spoke yesterday."
The moment Sengoku recognized the voice, every file slipped from his hands.
Paper scattered across the floor as Sengoku straightened in his chair, his full attention snapping into place.
"Yes," he said sharply. "You're the one I gave the mission of identifying the captain associated with Benn Beckman."
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"Well? Did you find anything?"
Smoker didn't hesitate.
"Yes. And it's worse than we thought."
For the first time in a long while, unease crept into Sengoku's expression. His jaw tightened.
"…Tell me."
Smoker took a breath.
"The captain of Benn Beckman," he said, "is Shanks. A remnant of the Roger Pirates."
There was silence.
Pure, heavy silence.
Sengoku's eyes widened, disbelief washing across his face. His fingers tightened around the receiver.
"…Did you just say," Sengoku began slowly, "Shanks… as in the Roger Pirates?"
Smoker's voice was firm. "Yes, Fleet Admiral."
Sengoku leaned forward. "And you're certain you didn't misidentify him?"
"I'd bet my entire life on it," Smoker replied without hesitation.
The words hit like a cannon blast.
Sengoku sank back into his chair, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. His shoulders slumped slightly as he exhaled.
"…Now this," he muttered, "is a problem."
He rubbed his temple. "We're already spread thin as it is."
Smoker continued, his tone sharpening. "Fleet Admiral, may I offer a suggestion?"
Sengoku looked up. "A suggestion? What kind?"
Smoker spoke carefully, laying everything out piece by piece.
"This Shanks is building a dangerous crew. There's Benn Beckman, no introduction needed there. Then there's Shanks himself, who grew up around absolute monsters."
Sengoku listened in silence as Smoker continued.
"I also saw Building Snake. An infamous pirate from the Grand Line. His bounty stands at sixty-seven million Berries."
Sengoku's eyes darkened.
"And lastly," Smoker said, "there's Giovanni."
Sengoku frowned slightly. "Giovanni?"
"A kid," Smoker said. "But one with terrifying potential. If he's allowed to bloom… in two to three years, he'll become a force the Marines won't be able to ignore."
A brief pause.
"And we don't even know if this is the full extent of their crew."
Sengoku leaned back fully now, staring at the ceiling.
"…What's the point of telling me all this?" he said dryly. "Is it to sink me further into despair?"
"No," Smoker replied. "I'm saying this because we still have a chance."
Sengoku's gaze sharpened again.
"A chance?"
"We crush them," Smoker said. "Now. Before they reach their full potential."
Sengoku let out a humorless chuckle. "Crush them? Easy words to say. Did you miss the part where I said we're understaffed? We don't have the resources to chase a crew like that across the Grand Line."
"You won't need to chase them," Smoker said.
That made Sengoku sit up.
"…Explain."
"I know exactly where they're going next."
Sengoku's fingers tightened on the desk. "Where?"
"Sabaody Archipelago."
The room went still.
"And you're certain?" Sengoku asked.
"The captain said it himself," Smoker replied. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku… if you play this right, you can capture them."
For the first time during the call, Sengoku smiled.
"Well done, Captain Smoker."
Smoker exhaled slightly. "Thank you, Fleet Admiral."
Sengoku leaned back, his tone shifting. "Tell me, Captain Smoker… how would you feel about coming to work here at Marine HQ? We could use talent like yours."
Smoker was silent for a moment.
"I appreciate the offer," he said. "But I'd rather stay in Loguetown."
Sengoku raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"There's something I want to protect here."
The Fleet Admiral didn't respond immediately. He stared at the desk, then sighed.
"…That's unfortunate," Sengoku said. "But I won't force it."
"Thank you," Smoker replied.
The line clicked.
The call ended.
Sengoku lowered the receiver slowly.
Then he shouted.
"Mori!"
The door burst open as a Marine officer rushed in, snapping to attention.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku!"
Sengoku stood. "Go find Aokiji. Tell him I'm calling him."
Mori saluted sharply. "Yes sir!"
He turned and swiftly exited the room.
Left alone once more, Sengoku reached for a cloth and wiped the sweat from his brow. His expression hardened as he stared out the window toward the distant sea.
"…Roger," he muttered. "Even beyond the grave… you're still causing us trouble."