The Holy Land Mary Geoise.
The Hall of Authority.
The Five Elders were settled into their sofas, a single agent in black standing at attention beside them.
“Number Eight.
Play it again,” Saint Jaygarcia Saturn said, tapping the tip of his cane lightly against the floor.
“Yes, Saint Saturn.” Only once the order had been given did Number Eight dare to move.
As he lifted his face, the faint lines of a tattoo shaped like the numeral eight became visible.
Bzzzt… bzzzt… Static spat from the Visual Den Den Mushi.
A few seconds later, an image bloomed once more across the white cloth draped along the wall.
The footage showed Shanks at the bow, Gryphon raised high overhead as he bellowed for the ship to be brought in closer.
Then came the sequence of Shanks and Gavin tearing toward the warships, cutting a path clean through the Marines aboard.
“…That little brat from the Figarland family has dug up some rather promising talent.” It was Saturn who broke the silence again.
“Number Eight.
The man with the giant cleaver—who is he?
Do we have anything detailed on him?” “It has already been prepared, Saint Saturn.” Number Eight lifted a file from the table nearby, drew out Gavin’s dossier, and passed a copy to each of the Five Elders before choosing his moment to speak.
“Hickman D.
Gavin.
Crown prince of the Hickman Kingdom, in East Blue.
Following the king’s death, and just as Gavin was set to take the throne, the Goa Kingdom launched a war against them.” “Goa succeeded in crushing the Hickman Kingdom in that conflict.
However, Hickman D.
Gavin—their so-called final king—vanished without a trace.
It is suspected he escaped through some concealed passage.” “When he next surfaced, he had already been recruited by Fi—” a cough, “—by the pirate Shanks, and had joined his crew.” “As for the surviving citizens of the Hickman Kingdom, the nobles of Goa sold them off cheaply to Saint Felbach, to be held as a reserve stock of slaves.” Scanning the brief summary on the page, Saint Marcus Mars drew his brows together.
“Number Eight.
Did the agents genuinely fail to uncover the origin of his strength?
Is it a Devil Fruit, or is it swordsmanship?” Number Eight shook his head, chin dipping low, his voice sinking along with it.
“My deepest apologies, Saint Mars.
As to the source of Hickman D.
Gavin’s power…” “Our agents in East Blue combed through the ruins of the Hickman palace, but they turned up nothing that could confirm where his strength comes from.
All they gathered were a few scraps of talk from the common folk.” “Hickman D.
Gavin has loved the sword since he was a child.
On account of that, the old king brought in renowned swordsmanship masters from across East Blue to teach him swordmanship and physical body training.” Mars laid the documents down, the crease in his brow cutting deeper.
“Gentlemen.
My own recommendation is that we continue to observe, and nothing more.
The ‘pirate Shanks’ carries a rather delicate identity.
I trust you all grasp what I mean.” “The upheaval of fifteen years ago left us with—” “Saint Mars.” Saint Shepherd Ju Peter cut him off, gently.
“Let what is past remain in the past.
There is no cause to drag it into the light again.
The chief architect of that upheaval has already been put to death.
Some losses can never be recovered—and there is no need to try.” “This is a matter for the Figarland family to settle.
Number Eight—once we are finished here, forward a copy of this footage to Saint Figarland Garling, and let him deal with it as he sees fit.” “Yes, Saint Ju Peter.” “And one more thing…” Number Eight inclined his head toward Ju Peter.
“My lord.” “Send word to Fleet Admiral Kong.
Have Hickman D.
Gavin’s bounty raised to match Shanks’s own.” “Understood.
I shall see to it at once.” …
Marine Headquarters.
Marineford.
The Marine flag snapped in the wind, scattering the seabirds that had settled to rest, while off in the distance the residential quarter rang with the clang and hammer of ongoing construction.
“…This comes down from the Five Elders?
Understood.” Kacha— The Den Den Mushi went quiet.
Kong rose and crossed to the window, looking out over the whole of the island below.
“Did something happen up at the Holy Land?” Tsuru asked, her voice soft.
“…” After a long stretch of silence, Kong let out a slow breath.
“No.
It has nothing to do with the Celestial Dragons—not directly, at any rate.
If you want to trace this thing back to where it truly began, you’d have to go all the way to God Valley, in West Blue.
Fifteen years ago.” “Garp led the relief force out there at the time.
You’ll remember that much don’t you?” Tsuru nodded, then frowned in confusion.
“It’s been so very long.
Is the World Government really intent on dredging that matter up again?” “This isn’t about settling old debts.
In the middle of that chaos, the Figarland family lost an heir.
A child barely a year old.” Kong’s gaze drifted out past the glass, as if the world beyond the window had folded back on itself and become West Blue, fifteen years gone.
“When the God Valley Incident was over, Garp came home the Hero of the Marines.
And in the very same breath, the Marines were handed a secret directive—to seek out a red-haired infant.” “Because the affair touched the Celestial Dragons, only a handful of people were ever told.” Understanding settled over Tsuru’s face.
She sifted through the pile of bounty posters strewn across the desk and drew out the one bearing a red-haired pirate.
“It’s him, isn’t it?
Red-Haired Shanks.
Captain of the Red Hair Pirates.
Former apprentice of the Roger Pirates.” “That’s right.
It’s him.” Kong returned to the desk and took Shanks’s poster from her hand.
“I’d been wondering why the Five Elders would place a single crew on the special watch list.
So this is the reason behind it.” Tsuru lifted her teacup and took a small sip.
“Then are they asking the Marines to look the other way where these pirates are concerned?” “This time, the matter has little to do with that red-haired brat.” Kong dug back through the heap of bounty posters and, after a moment, pulled free the one showing a black-haired young man.
“Hickman D.
Gavin.
The Five Elders have ordered us to raise his bounty until it stands level with Red-Haired Shanks’s.” “Hickman… D?” Tsuru’s voice caught.
“Fleet Admiral… that D…” Kong only shook his head and offered nothing further on the subject of the D.
“See to the arrangements.
Set Hickman D.
Gavin’s bounty at two hundred million Berries, and have it issued at once to every Marine base across the Four Blues and the Grand Line.” “…Understood.” …
At that same hour, far away in East Blue—the night of the thirty-first of March, year 1499 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
Cawww~~ A seagull came diving down out of the dark, hooked a hundred Berries in its claws, dropped a folded newspaper in exchange, and beat its wings back up into the sky.
“Now that’s odd.
A News Coo making deliveries in the dead of night?” A bamboo skewer clamped between his teeth, Yasopp swayed lightly where he sat beside the oil lamp and unfolded the paper.
[Marine Triumph!
Former Roger Pirate Douglas Bullet Officially in Custody!!] [Marine Hero Garp Strikes Again: So Long As You’re a Pirate, You’ll Never Outrun My Fist!] [Round Two!
Marine Rising Star Borsalino and Charlotte Linlin’s Moonlit Rendezvous!
…] “Shanks—there’s something in here about you!” “Douglas Bullet.
That name mean anything to you?” A short way off, Shanks was mid-spar with Gavin.
A flash of red crossed his eyes, he slipped clean beneath Gavin’s horizontal slash and sprang back several paces to call the bout to a close.
“Gavin, we’ll leave Haki training there for today.
I need to have a look at that news.” Gavin didn’t try to hold him to it.
He simply fell into step beside Shanks and walked over to Yasopp.
“A Buster Call, eh?
Bullet’s every bit as much a wrecking ball as ever.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Shanks paged through the front section, his eyes alight with unmistakable, gleeful spite.
“That bastard used to knock the daylights out of me and Buggy back when we were on the ship.
Dressed it up all pretty, too—said he was just toughening up the defenses on our skin.” “Now he’s buried away on the lowest floor of Impel Down.
Clawing his way out of there won’t come easy.” Gavin’s gaze traveled across the article.
The piece described how Bullet had gone toe-to-toe with an entire Buster Call single-handed before finally falling to Sengoku and Garp.
It made no mention whatsoever of any betrayal among pirates.
“Douglas Bullet…” Gavin murmured.
“Shanks—I seem to remember you saying his Haki is on another level right?” “On another level doesn’t cover it!” Shanks’s expression turned abruptly serious as the memories of his childhood came rushing back.
“A few years after he came aboard, even Rayleigh could only ever fight him to a standstill, never actually put him down.
On that whole ship, once Bullet caught up to the rest of us, there wasn’t a single soul besides Captain Roger who could beat him.” “In the end, it all came apart because the captain fell ill.
Bullet challenged him one more time, lost one more time, and something in him just snapped.
He walked out on the crew for good.” ‘1499…’ Something clicked into place in Gavin’s mind, and a memory floated quietly to the surface.
“Oh—right, Shanks.
Did you happen to know your captain had a wife and child down in South Blue?” “The captain… a wife and…” Shanks’s jaw very nearly hit the deck.
His eyes blew wide, a thread of snot leaking from his nose as he lunged forward and seized Gavin by the collar with both hands.
“No way—no way in hell!
How could Captain Roger have a wife and a kid?!
Even I don’t have those!” Gavin pried the hands loose, bent down, and rummaged through a dry old wine barrel they kept set aside for storing back issues of the paper.
“Here.
This one’s from a few days back.
It’s out of South Blue—looks like there’s some brutal, sweeping manhunt underway down there.
The World Government and the Marines are combing the place for infants born inside a particular window of time.” Shanks snatched the paper up and hunched in close to the oil lamp to read.
“Large-scale search operation across South Blue.
All civilians are required to cooperate fully with the World Government and Marine forces.
Citizens are urged to report or surrender any infant born between 1497 and 1499, along with any expectant mothers…” “…” “I remember Captain Roger…” Shanks’s head snapped up, his face gone dark.
“He let something slip once, when the two of us were just shooting the breeze.
Said there was nothing he wanted more than to sail down to South Blue and taste the passion of the beautiful women there for himself.” “Gavin!” Gavin looked over on instinct—just in time to watch the shifting play of emotion on Shanks’s face harden, slowly, into pure resolve.
“Help me out here!
I’m going to South Blue!
There’s no way in hell I let the captain’s bloodline fall into the hands of the Marines or the World Government!”