Several days later, the Red Hair Pirates' flagship—the Red Force—slowly sailed into the harbor of Palta Island, a territory under their protection.
Shanks was the first to leap off the ship.
The moment his boots hit the ground, his gaze was drawn—instinctively and immediately—to the glaring Black Spade Pirates' flag fluttering above the village square.
It stood there, bold and defiant, snapping in the sea breeze.
Shanks' brow furrowed slightly as he stared at it.
"…Strange," Ben Beckman muttered beside him, a slim cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. His eyes swept over the unusually empty streets as he spoke in a low voice."After 'Fire Fist' Ace planted his flag on Palta Island, he stopped expanding altogether.According to our intel, this was the last place he appeared and changed flags—and he hasn't moved since.It feels… like he's deliberately waiting for us."
"Yeah, boss!" Lucky Roux added, gnawing on a massive meat leg, his words muffled."And since we landed, we haven't even seen the shadow of their pirate ship!There's no way they sailed in on a rowboat to grab territory, right?What, did they hide their ship somewhere in advance?"
Just as Shanks and the others were puzzling over the situation—
"Yo~"
A young voice, lazy and amused, suddenly drifted down from above and to the side.
Everyone looked up.
Perched on the eaves of a nearby house was a black-haired youth wearing an orange cowboy hat, half-crouched casually. One hand pressed down on the brim, shadowing most of his face—leaving only a spray of freckles and a faint, cocky smile visible.
Ace lifted the brim slightly, revealing his eyes. His gaze locked straight onto Shanks, and he chuckled.
"So you're the legendary Four Emperor, Red-Haired Shanks, huh?My little brother never shuts up about you, you know."
Of course, as a man who doted on his younger brother, Ace actually wanted to talk to Shanks about Luffy.
But with Gern Reginald Sigmar and the other two behind him, staring him down like predators…
Well—The weak didn't get to choose.
At the exact moment Ace finished speaking—
BANG!
Without the slightest warning, a sharp glint flashed through Lucky Roux's eyes.
Despite his massive, round build, he moved with shocking speed—drawing the short gun at his waist and pulling the trigger in one clean, fluid motion.
The bullet tore through the air and punched straight through Ace's chest.
There was no spray of blood.
Instead, blazing flames erupted from the hole, heat surging outward as fire flooded the cavity, sealing it shut in an instant—like a stone tossed into water, ripples flaring briefly before the surface returned to calm.
Ace didn't even sway.
Still crouched on the eaves, he tilted his head slightly, peering through the fading flames at Lucky Roux. The curve of his smile carried the unhurried composure unique to Logia users.
"Hey, hey… don't you think that kind of greeting's a little too enthusiastic?"
The instant Ace mentioned the name "Luffy," something stirred in Shanks' heart.
The boy from Foosha Village—the one he'd placed his hopes on, the one he'd gambled an arm, a future, and even Roger's straw hat on—…had an older brother?
And that brother was this Fire Fist Ace, openly provoking him?
The strange twist of fate softened the sharp edge of Shanks' presence almost unconsciously.
That was why, when Lucky Roux fired without hesitation, Shanks frowned slightly in disapproval.
"Roux," he said quietly—but the warning in his tone was unmistakable.
Lucky Roux immediately let out an awkward laugh, smoothly holstering his gun and scratching his head.
"Sorry, boss!Didn't you say we were here to teach an unruly rookie a lesson?I've just been staying in combat mode the whole time!"
His tone was light, but it was clear he hadn't acted recklessly—he was simply executing the standard response to provocation.
Shanks sighed, knowing his crew was only acting to protect their authority.
He turned his attention back to Ace, intending to talk properly about Luffy—and to find out what was really behind this provocation.
But when his gaze truly settled on Ace's face, studying him more carefully—
He paused.
This black-haired young man's features… the expression in his eyes, that faint trace of defiant pride—
For just a moment, it stirred an indescribable sense of familiarity.
Captain Roger…?
The thought flickered and vanished.
Shanks had been young when he sailed under Roger. By the time his memories became clear, Roger was already a weathered, middle-aged man with that iconic mustache.As for what Roger looked like in his youth—those details had long since blurred, leaving only a vague sense of presence.
Probably just a coincidence. Or maybe his thoughts were being led astray because of Luffy.
Shaking off the momentary daze, Shanks' usual broad grin returned.
"Luffy, huh? I never imagined you were his brother!"
His tone turned warm and enthusiastic, as if the earlier tension had never existed.
"If that's the case, then this whole thing must just be a misunderstanding!To celebrate this incredible twist of fate—"
He threw an arm out grandly.
"Let's throw a banquet!"
"A banquet?!" Lucky Roux blinked—then erupted into cheers along with the rest of the crew.
"OH!!! A BANQUET!!!"
The atmosphere instantly flipped from confrontation to celebration.
Only Beckman remained where he was, cigarette still in his mouth, shaking his head with a helpless smile—long since accustomed to his captain's wild swings in behavior, and silently accepting this resolution.
After all, whenever Luffy was involved, Shanks was always different.
Seeing Shanks' open, unguarded smile—and watching the Red Hair Pirates switch from battle-ready to party mode in an instant—Ace felt the tension in his body loosen despite himself.
That familiar, larger-than-life warmth… just like the Shanks Luffy always talked about.
Before he could stop himself, the word "Fine" nearly slipped from his lips.
After all, no one strikes a smiling face—especially not someone Luffy respected so deeply.
But just as that word was about to leave his mouth—
"Tch…"
A sharp, mocking click of the tongue sounded from the shadow behind him, instantly freezing the warming air.
From the darkness beneath the eaves, three figures emerged.
And at their center—
Gern Reginald Sigmar had somehow appeared without a sound, now leaning casually in the shadow directly behind Ace, sitting cross-legged at an angle, arms folded over his chest. A teasing smile curved his lips.
"A banquet sounds great," Gern drawled lazily."But if it's a banquet, how could it possibly be complete without a bonfire?"
He chuckled softly.
"Bright flames make things lively, don't they?"
As he spoke, Gern leaned back—resting his weight against Ace's suddenly stiffened spine.
"So…"
His voice dropped, amused and commanding all at once.
"Go on.'Treat' him to a Fire Fist, Ace."