Next morning, Shanks woke up with a pounding hangover. Uta pushed the door open, carrying a bowl of hangover soup.
"Oh? Uta made me some soup?"
The old man's heart melted at the thought of his little girl's care.
"Nope! Big Sis Sakura made it. She already left—said she's off to sail the four seas."
"Before she went, she told me to tell you: she'll be waiting at the top. Don't let her down!"
Uta set the steaming bowl on the nightstand and plopped on the edge of the bed, kicking her legs.
Shanks downed the soup. Warmth slid down his throat, washing away the sour bloat in his gut.
He set the wooden bowl aside and stared out the window at the endless ocean.
"The top, huh?"
He couldn't keep the grin off his face. Excitement was practically leaking out of him.
Guess I really do need to figure out how to marry that woman.
He chugged the rest like a champ and strode out of the cabin.
The crew was ready—sun-scorched faces brimming with hope.
Shanks took it all in, pride swelling in his chest.
He threw his head back and roared, "Alright, you punks—set sail!"
"AYE!!!"
The Red Force erupted in cheers. Sails snapped up, and they charged off to write the next chapter of their legend.
---
Meanwhile, North Blue port city: Spidamiles.
Sakura needed fresh water, so she steered the Leviathan toward the docks.
Soon, she stepped into town.
It was thriving—piles of scrap and massive warehouses pumped industrial life through its veins, giving the whole place a steampunk glow.
The streets buzzed. People hustled, the air thick with grilled seafood and the foam sliding down beer mugs in roadside taverns.
She asked a random passerby for directions and quickly found the city's most famous restaurant.
The second she walked in, the waiter rushed over with a big smile—until he saw her face. His pupils shrank.
His grin turned mechanical. "Welcome. What can I get you?"
"Food. Good food. Give me the house specials—twenty-person portions to start~"
It wasn't mealtime yet, so she figured she'd tide herself over.
The waiter seated her with enthusiasm, then bolted to the kitchen.
Inside, the head chef was yanked away from the stove.
"B-b-boss, huge problem! There's a wanted criminal out there!"
The waiter rummaged through a cabinet and shoved a bounty poster into the chef's hands.
"Gasp—4.4 billion berries!"
The chef sucked in air. Greed flared… then died. No way he could take on a pirate like that.
The waiter leaned in. "We call the big shots up on Scrap Mountain!"
"Slip something in her food. Stall till they get here!"
The chef thought it over. Good plan. He dug deep into the pantry, pulled out a phone-snail, and made the call.
---
Spidamiles High-Mountain Factory
A low-level Donquixote Family capo hung up the snail.
He ran the city while Doflamingo was at sea—full authority over every Donquixote asset in the North Blue.
Navy Branch 177, the family's mafia, the armed guards on the weapons trade routes…
Put it all together, and he could probably wipe a small country off the map.
Now, a golden ticket had just landed in his lap.
Haruno Sakura—the World Government's public enemy #1. Catch her, trade her, and the family's dreams would leap forward.
"Boss, what do we do?"
Every mafia goon in the office stared at him, waiting.
"Can't reach the Young Master?"
The man's eyes darkened. He folded his arms, chin on his fists.
The guy with the snail shook his head. "Grand Line's a mess. They're probably on some dead-signal island."
"Of all times…"
His fist slammed the desk—solid wood exploded into splinters.
A once-in-a-lifetime shot, and the boss was MIA.
Another call came in. The liaison hung up and grinned.
"Boss, the restaurant owner drugged her!"
Greed finally tipped the scale. Reason crumbled.
The room lit up with manic energy. The capo shot to his feet and kicked the door open.
"Let's go grab her and offer her to Doffy!"
---
"Man, these things are hard to catch, huh?"
Under dim lights, empty bowls and skewer sticks littered the table. Sakura drained her tenth drink, beaming.
"Y-yeah… rounding up the manpower's the tricky part."
The owner's smile was frozen. His hand (still clutching the drug vial) sweated bullets.
Twenty doses. Twenty. That'd knock out a small sea king.
But the girl? Still grinning like an idiot, casually chatting about sea beast hunting.
Please, Donquixote guys, hurry!
His prayers were answered—sort of.
The girl yawned… then face-planted into an empty plate.
"It worked… HAHAHA, I DID IT!!!"
The owner nearly cried. A 4-billion-berry pirate—caught by him!
He hummed triumphantly, ordered the staff to tie her up, and waited for the family.
Minutes later, a swarm of black-suited gunmen surrounded the place. The capo (coat flapping dramatically) kicked the doors open.
"My lords, we've got her!"
The owner's stiff face bloomed into a flower. He rubbed his hands like a cartoon villain.
The capo glanced at the tightly bound, unconscious girl and exhaled.
"Good work."
Hearing the praise, the owner pushed his luck. "So, about our shop's protection fee…"
"I'll make it happen—lifetime exemption for your restaurant!"
The capo waved grandly.
"THANK YOU, SIR! THANK YOU!"
Every wrinkle on the owner's face smoothed out as he groveled.
"But… isn't one shop a little stingy?"
A crisp voice behind them. Both men froze.
"Huh? Don't push your luck, punk!"
The capo spun, Kansai accent thick with menace.
Only to see every single goon behind him pale as ghosts, bloodshot eyes locked on something behind him.
He looked down.
Pink hair. Pretty eyes narrowed into slits. Staring right at him.
"Yo."
BOOM—!!
Dark lightning erupted. The shockwave shattered every window, the invisible wave slamming everyone—except the restaurant owner—into the floor.
Conqueror's Haki crushed fragile minds. Mafia goons rolled their eyes back and collapsed in heaps.
Sakura stood, dusted herself off, and wiped her hands with a damp towel.
"Man, the local gang's got no manners."
Falling asleep the second a customer walks in? Rude.
In the owner's shrinking pupils, the girl loomed larger… until she stopped right in front of him.
"W-we can talk this out, right?"
His smile was uglier than crying.
"You think?"
Sakura grabbed his collar. Her right fist cocked back.
BOOM—!!
Pure brute force detonated. The entire restaurant collapsed. The owner rocketed through the rubble and vanished into the sky like a shooting star.
Amid the dust, Sakura picked up a ringing phone-snail.
She answered. A low voice crackled through.
"Trebol, why the emergency line?"
"Flamingo. I know I just said it, but your local gang's seriously rude."
"Haruno Sakura?!"