In the year 1492 of the Sea Circle Calendar,
On DuLamos Island, a modest island situated in the first half of the New World.
"Hey, Jesse, you wouldn't want the news of you wetting the bed at eight years old getting out, would you?"
"Such presence... overwhelming aura... truly one of the sea's top-tier powerhouses."
Just through instinct alone, Shanks could already sense the abyss-like gap in power between himself and the man before him.
This was the Pirate King Gol D. Roger!
At this time, he and his crew had already survived the legendary battle at God Valley and were now voyaging across the seas, searching for the four lost Road Poneglyphs embarking on their final adventure.
Right now, he had not yet fallen ill and was still enjoying the freedom and thrill of the ocean.
By the docks, members of the Roger Pirates began disembarking one after another. They were only stopping to restock supplies.
But amidst this crowd of burly men, two small figures wove their way through, clearly out of place—
Two little brats, both with shades of red—
One with red hair, the other with a red nose.
"Who are you calling Red Nose, huh?! I dare you to say it again!" Young Buggy was furious, his face turning beet red.
"No one called you Red Nose, Buggy," Shanks hopped off the gangplank, pressing down the straw hat nearly blown away by the wind, and said helplessly, "You can feel it even without hearing anything? Is your Observation Haki color-coded now…?"
"No, someone definitely said it! I know that feeling, and I'm never wrong!"
Buggy clenched his fists and yelled, scanning the area until he spotted a figure sprinting toward them from afar. "Hey! Was it you, brat?!"
"Hahahahaha… Long time no see, Buggy, Shanks!"
Shanks burst into laughter as he ran up, waving in greeting.
In a messy back alley, a shirtless boy with long black hair and a mischievous grin loomed over a snot-nosed little brat.
Nearby, several other kids looked on angrily but didn't dare speak up.
"Eh? But I did clean up before dawn! Shanks, how did you even know…?" Mid-sentence, the snotty Jesse hurriedly covered his mouth, afraid the others might hear.
"I told you before nothing escapes my sight."
With that, Shanks snatched the handful of Berry coins from Jesse's hand, stuffed them in his pocket, and left laughing as Jesse fumed.
Once he left, the other kids rushed to comfort Jesse and curse him out loud:
"That jerk! One day, I'll get revenge!"
"Yeah, Shanks always takes our pocket money. Someday, I'll give him a good beating."
But one child, more realistic, just stared bitterly at the long-haired figure walking away.
"Come on… we all know that's impossible. Even the village chief said—Shanks killed a wild boar when he was six. He's..."
The kid trailed off, eyes flickering with fear as he recalled the warnings from his parents.
"A natural-born monster..."
"Nice another 500 Berries. That's two more newspapers I can buy."
Shanks cheerfully pushed open the door to his home.
This was the ninth year since he'd arrived in the world of the Pirate King. Abandoned at birth, raised by the old village chief, Shanks had long adapted to this strange and exciting world.
Still, he hadn't yet seen the ocean's true vastness. So, he made it a habit to buy newspapers from the seagulls to keep up with major events.
Today, like always, he was heading home for lunch. But oddly, the old chief wasn't there.
Looking around and finding no one, he furrowed his little brows and glanced toward the neighbor's house. He seemed to be sensing something. After a moment, he shook his head.
"Nope… not at the widow's place either."
Probably off drinking again. Shanks didn't overthink it. He grabbed some bread and ham from the kitchen and sat down to eat.
While chewing, he flipped open today's freshly bought paper.
"The remnants of the Rocks Pirates are building their own forces… Golden Lion, Whitebeard, and others..."
Nothing new. Still, gotta say young Charlotte Linlin was really something.
Looking at the curvaceous silhouette in the photo, Shanks chewed while admiring it, then turned to the next article.
"Roger Pirates spotted near Sandrila Island."
The living Pirate King, huh? Shanks mused as he chewed, flipping to the next page—
Hold on.
He suddenly stopped mid-bite, his instincts screaming something was off. He shot a glance back at the Roger Pirates article. The bread in his mouth fell to the floor—completely unnoticed.
Sandrila Island?
That was just a few dozen nautical miles away!
Holy!
At this point in time, Roger hadn't reached Laugh Tale yet. He wasn't the Pirate King yet!
This is insane.
Shanks' eyes went wide. In just seconds, a bold decision exploded into his mind.
"Back in my last life, I waited nearly thirty years and still never found out what One Piece actually was. And now? The chance to witness it firsthand is right there?"
If I could join Roger's crew…
What would that be?
Starting at the top.
Other pirates spend their whole lives searching for that treasure me? I find it within two years of setting sail?
Just thinking about it got Shanks excited.
Not to mention, Roger's ship was filled with the strongest in the world. Learn just a few moves from them, and I'd be final-boss material in a movie.
Even Buggy ended up with a reputation just because he was on Roger's ship.
No time to waste.
"Old man! I'm off to join the Roger Pirates! I'll repay your kindness when I return in glory!"
He scribbled a farewell note.
Slinging a stick with a bundle over his shoulder, Shanks swore that once he made it big, he'd return and give back to the people who raised him.
"When that time comes, even the stray dogs in the village—I'll get them jobs as palace guards. Eating royal rations. That's gotta be enough, right?"
Shanks packed up the old chief's few belongings and dashed for the docks, feet light with purpose.
Meanwhile…
A magnificent red-and-gold ship, its bow adorned with twin mermaid carvings, docked at the largest port of DuLamos.
At the prow, stood a man who could only be the captain.
Draped in a red coat, captain's hat on his head, and a signature curved mustache, he wore the hearty grin of a true king. His overwhelming charisma and natural-born dominance radiated in every direction.