Grey stood silently, the endless horizon before him gleaming under the sun.
The waves whispered in rhythm, and for a brief moment, he wondered what lay beyond them.
'What kind of world waits on the other side…?'
He turned slightly, glancing toward the jungle behind him, the training ground that had been his world for months.
Every scar on his body, every fallen beast, every drop of blood, was a lesson carved into him by solitude.
"…I think it's time to see the other side of the world," Grey murmured, eyes still fixed on the horizon.
Then, softly... he whistled.
The sound was low and sharp, cutting through the wind. For a while, there was nothing. Then the ocean began to move.
Waves swelled unnaturally, as if something massive stirred beneath the surface.
The water split.
A creature emerged, colossal, ancient.
A turtle's shell, rough and dark as stone, carried a head that resembled a crocodile's, lined with jagged teeth.
Its roar made the sea tremble, yet when its eyes found Grey, the monster bowed.
Grey walked forward and placed his hand on the beast's rough snout.
The creature had been his first opponent when he arrived on this island, the same monster he'd defeated, then spared.
Since then, it had served him faithfully, bringing him food each day, acknowledging his strength.
"…I want to leave this island," Grey said quietly. "You're coming with me"
As if understanding, the creature turned, lowering its massive body until the shell touched the waves.
Grey stepped onto its back, the sea parting gently as if clearing the path for him.
He looked once more toward the horizon.
The wind brushed past, carrying the scent of salt and something distant, freedom, perhaps.
Then, without another word, the Visceral Demon set off toward the unknown, riding the beast that once feared him.
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- Year 1528 of the Age of the Sea Circle -
The sea stretched endlessly, quiet and blue. No compass. No map. No destination.
Grey sat cross-legged on the shell of the massive sea King as it drifted lazily with the current. The sun burned high, painting gold over the water, and gulls circled above.
He didn't know how many days had passed.
Food was unnecessary; the Stray came when it pleased, and storms parted whenever his eyes met the sky.
He simply existed, between one heartbeat and the next without aim.
"Endless, isn't it…" he murmured. "Like walking through a memory that never ends"
Then... a faint sound.
Laughter.
The wind carried it first, light and carefree.
Then came the sound of sails flapping, and a shadow grew across the water.
Grey opened his eyes.
A large ship was cutting through the waves toward him, the flag above it marked by a distinct insignia, a skull with crossed sabers, a mark the world would one day fear.
The Red-Haired Pirates.
They were in high spirits, their deck alive with music and shouting. At the center of it all stood a man with fiery red hair, his laughter booming above the rest.
"Oi, Captain! There's something weird ahead!" one of the crew shouted from the crow's nest.
Shanks tilted his head up, squinting toward the horizon.
"Huh? Looks like someone's out for a stroll in the middle of the ocean…"
The crew leaned over the railing as the ship drew closer, and fell silent.
Then, silence.
Every song, every laugh, every word died as their eyes met the sight before them.
A lone man sitting atop a colossal Sea King. Barefoot. Bare-chested. Eyes grey as stormless skies.
He wasn't threatening. He wasn't smiling. He simply… was.
The Sea King beneath him moved not from instinct, but reverence, like a god's throne drifting on water.
Even the wind hesitated.
"…Is he riding a Sea King?" Lucky Roo finally asked, disbelief cracking the silence.
"No," Yasopp murmured, eyes narrowing as his hand hovered near his rifle. "That thing's... bowing"
Shanks' laughter faded into a low hum. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at his lips, not of mockery, but of fascination.
"Well, isn't that something?" he said softly. "A man with the air of a king… and not even using Haoshoku"
He turned toward the crew, his one arm resting casually on the railing. "Let's say hello, shall we?"
The Red Force slowed, wood creaking as the waves parted around it.
Shanks stepped onto the railing, one hand gripping a rope, his red hair catching the sunlight like fire.
"Oi!" he called, voice booming across the water. "You planning to scare the fish to death riding that thing?"
Grey looked up, eyes unreadable, voice calm as still water. "…I was merely drifting"
"Drifting, huh? Hahaha!" Shanks' laughter rolled like thunder across the sea. "That's a dangerous hobby out here!"
But even as he laughed, something in his gaze sharpened. The warmth remained, but behind it lay quiet caution. There was something ancient moving within the man below, something neither alive nor dead, yet undeniable.
"...You're not with the Marines, are you?" Shanks asked, half joking.
Grey tilted his head slightly. "Marine?... No. I'm with no one"
"Ah. A free man, then"
For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other, one, the embodiment of boundless freedom; the other, of hollow instinct searching for meaning.
Then a murmur rippled through the deck.
Benn Beckman approached, cigar between his fingers, eyes sharp. "Captain," he said quietly. "That thing in our cargo hold… the fruit we just took... it's reacting"
Shanks turned, one brow raised. "Reacting?"
The wooden crate beside him gave a faint rattle, once, twice as if something inside was waking.
Grey's gaze shifted toward it. Deep within him, one of the seven stirred, faint, but real.
Then...
The waves rippled outward, a golden shimmer flashing beneath the surface before vanishing again.
Shanks noticed. So did Beckman. But neither spoke of it.
"…Strange currents today," Shanks finally said, his easy smile returning. "Well, stranger things happen at sea"
Grey said nothing. He only watched them, the laughter, the camaraderie, the warmth that filled the air around them.
For the first time, he wondered if that warmth was what people meant when they spoke of emotion.
The Red Force sailed past him, its flag snapping proudly in the wind.
As it pulled away, Shanks raised his hat in salute, that signature grin still in place.
"Take care, drifter! The sea's wide… maybe you'll find what you're looking for out here!"
Grey stood silently, watching until the ship was just a speck on the horizon.
Only then did he speak, softly, almost to himself. "…So that's what freedom looks like"
The Sea King beneath him stirred, ready to continue its wandering.
But Grey raised a hand.
The creature stopped, massive eyes turning toward him, awaiting command.
Grey's voice came quiet, certain.
"Go," he said, pointing toward the vanishing sails. "Follow that ship"
The Sea King growled low, then began to move, a shadow gliding beneath the waves, following the echo of laughter that still lingered on the wind.