I nestled in the farthest corner of the tavern, a warm beam of light spilling over me as I giggled at the raucous celebration of my companions. The atmosphere was thick with the aroma of spilled ale and hearty laughter, as Lucky, Punch, and Monster reveled in their inebriation, their mugs clanking together in a symphony of merriment. However, their raucous cheers came to an abrupt halt when the heavy wooden doors of the tavern swung open with a thud.
In strode a lanky bandit, his tall frame and wiry limbs giving him an exaggerated, almost comical appearance. I found him rather tiresome; his droning voice blended into the background noise and lacked any appeal. The crew's curious eyes were fixed on the bandit, who stood obliviously at the center of attention, exuding an unwarranted confidence.
He boldly commanded Makino to sell him ten barrels of alcohol, his arrogance unshakeable. I could almost see the swift shift in Makino's expression; a tight-lipped, strained facade replaced her usual warm, welcoming smile, the kind of customer service mask one dons when desperately wanting to usher an irritating patron out the door. The tension in the room thickened, as the laughter from moments before faded into an awkward silence, all eyes watching the unfolding drama with bated breath.
"I'm sorry, but we just ran out of liquor," Makino said, her voice tinged with regret as she glanced around the bustling bar.
"That's strange. What are all these pirates drinking then?" the bandit remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Fruit juice?" He smirked, skepticism lacing his words. Well, technically, that was my preferred beverage, so yes, I was indeed sipping a colorful fruit juice cocktail that was sweet and refreshing.
"It's true; I just served the last drink," Makino confirmed, a hint of apology in her tone.
"I feel guilty," Shanks chimed in, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly with a touch of his casual, friendly demeanor. "I guess we drank all the liquor. Sorry about that." He reached for the unopened bottle he had received earlier, its label still pristine. With a warm smile, he extended it toward the mountain bandit. "Why don't you have this?" he offered, the bottle glinting in the tavern. "It's unopened."
The scar-faced mountain bandit slammed his fist into the glass bottle, shattering it into a glittering storm of jagged shards. The contents erupted in a chaotic splash, drenching Shanks's face and soaking his hair and clothes in a tide of alcohol. I let out a resigned sigh; it seemed bandits had a knack for turning mundane moments into chaotic spectacles. Shanks, ever the composed figure, emitted a thoughtful sigh as he surveyed the disarray—the alcohol pooling on the floor, gleaming like treacle, and the shards of glass glinting with a menacing edge.
The bandit, with an air of reckless abandon, seemed utterly unfazed by the drama he had wrought. He proudly brandished a tattered, crumpled wanted poster bearing his grinning visage, the pathetic bounty of 8 million berries barely worth a glance. With an exaggerated sense of pride, he boasted about having taken 56 lives, as if recounting a glorious achievement rather than a shocking tally of violence. I struggled to stifle a giggle as I watched Shanks gradually shift his focus away from the bandit's absurdity, kneeling to methodically clean up the mess left in the wake of the bandit's bizarre display.
"Sorry about this, Makino. Just hand me a rag, and I'll take care of it," Shanks said with a wry smile, bending down to gather the scattered shards of glass from the floor. He moved carefully, his fingers brushing against the jagged edges as he worked to clean up the mess. The atmosphere in the bar was tense, a palpable weight in the air.
Just then, the bandit, trying to appear menacing, seemed irked by Shanks's nonchalance. With a sneer, he drew his blade, the metal glinting ominously under the dim light. In one swift motion, he swung it across the bar table, slicing through plates and cutlery, sending them crashing to the ground in an even greater disarray. A cacophony of clattering metal and breaking porcelain erupted, drawing gasps from the patrons nearby.
"So, you enjoy cleaning, do you? Well then, I hope this keeps you busy for a while," the bandit huffed, his voice laced with mockery, before turning on his heel. He paused at the doorway, casting a disdainful glance back at the silent crowd. "Farewell, cowards," he called out derisively, stepping out into the night, leaving behind an eerie silence punctuated only by the sound of crunching footsteps.
"Captain, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Makino hurried around the counter, concern etched on her face as she studied Shanks, who sat relaxed and nonchalant, his iconic straw hat tilted down, casting a shadow over his eyes.
"I'm fine, no harm done," Shanks replied with a reassuring grin, casually waving a hand as if to brush off the incident.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" erupted a chorus of laughter from the entire crew, myself included, the sound echoing through the lively tavern. Shanks's laughter rose above the rest, a deep, infectious guffaw that seemed to fill the air with warmth. After all, it's not every day that someone spills a drink on the fearless captain. The whole situation struck us as wonderfully absurd, unworthy of worry, and we reveled in the moment's lightheartedness.
"You think this is funny!!!" Luffy yelled in anger. Causing the laughter to pause. Luffy started to yell at Shanks in anger about not fighting back when being disgraced and laughing at being humiliated.
I had finally moved past the intense situation, but a wave of fatigue swept over me, making my eyelids grow heavy. In an uncontrollable moment, I erupted into a mighty yawn, so forceful that it left my eyes glistening with tears. As I blinked them away, I caught sight of Shanks gripping Luffy's arm, his expression showing amusement at Luffy's emotional outburst about trying to find a REAL role model, then suddenly Luffy began to stretch his limbs, his body elongating with an exaggerated "HUUUH!" that echoed in the stillness around us.
Utter chaos erupted on the ship as the crew processed the shocking turn of events: Luffy had just gobbled up the devil fruit we had painstakingly stolen from the grip of the world government—the infamous Gum-Gum Fruit. In that instant, Luffy transformed from huffing and puffing about Shanks's cowardice to being scared out of his wits about being a human anchor, bound by the curse of the sea. It was a grim reality—now unable to touch the ocean without feeling an overwhelming weakness draining his vitality.
"YOU IDIOT!!!!!" Shanks roared, his voice slicing through the tumultuous air. The weight of his anger reverberated across the tavern, where disbelief and frustration mirrored the stormy skies above. The crew glanced back and forth, their faces a mix of shock and concern, questioning how a single moment of impulsive hunger could alter the course of Luffy's future adventures forever.