Shanks' crew was something else entirely.
They weren't what most people probably imagined when they thought of pirates. No sneering, no threatening the locals, no throwing their weight around. They were just — loud. Genuinely, enthusiastically loud. The kind of loud that fills a room and spills out the windows and down the street.
Ronald sat at the counter and watched them while he ate.
There was a big man with wild hair arm wrestling two of his own crewmates at the same time and losing on purpose just to hear them cheer. A woman with short hair was teaching Makino some kind of card trick behind the counter while balancing three cups on her elbow. Two guys near the window were having an argument about whether a certain island's food was better than another island's food and both of them were completely wrong by the sounds of it.
It was chaotic. But it was a comfortable kind of chaos.
Luffy was in the middle of it all, naturally. He'd somehow ended up on the big man's shoulders within ten minutes of arriving and was currently being used as a human flag while the man paraded around a table.
"That's Benn," Shanks said from beside Ronald, nodding toward a calm looking man with sunglasses sitting at the far end of the counter reading something. "My first mate. Don't let the quiet fool you."
Ronald looked at Benn Beckman. Even from across the room, even just sitting there reading — there was a weight to the man. Similar to Shanks but different in texture. More like a loaded gun sitting on a table. Still. But you knew what it was.
"He doesn't join in?" Ronald asked.
"He joins when he wants to," Shanks said. "Which is less often than everyone else. He says watching is more interesting than participating most of the time."
"He's not wrong," Ronald said.
Shanks glanced at him sideways with a slightly amused look. "You think like him a little."
"I just observe," Ronald said.
"That's what he says too." Shanks took a sip from his cup. "How old are you, Ronald?"
"Seven."
"And you train every day?"
"Most days."
Shanks nodded slowly, looking at him with that same measured expression from earlier. Not suspicious. Just — attentive. Like he was listening to something that wasn't being said out loud.
"What are you training for?" he asked.
Ronald thought about how to answer that. He could say something vague. Something that would sound normal coming from a seven year old. But something about Shanks made him feel like vague answers would be more suspicious than honest ones.
"Strength," he said simply. "I want to be strong. No specific reason beyond that yet."
Shanks was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded like that answer satisfied him more than a complicated one would have.
"Fair enough," he said.
---
Luffy eventually came crashing back to the counter, slightly out of breath and grinning from ear to ear. He dropped onto the stool on Shanks' other side and immediately reached for food.
"Shanks," he said between bites. "Tell Ronald about the Grand Line."
Shanks raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because he thinks a lot and he'd probably find it interesting."
Shanks looked at Ronald. Ronald looked back at him calmly.
"You want to hear about it?" Shanks asked.
"I know some things about it already," Ronald said. "But I'd rather hear it from someone who's been there."
Shanks studied him for a second. Then he leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms.
"What do you already know?" he asked.
"That it's dangerous. That the weather doesn't make sense. That the Log Pose is the only way to navigate it properly. That most people who go in don't come back out."
Shanks was quiet for a moment.
"Where'd you learn all that?" he asked. His tone was still casual but there was something sharper underneath it now.
"Books," Ronald said. "And listening to people talk."
"Books about the Grand Line are rare in a place like this."
"I found one."
Shanks looked at him for a long moment. Then the sharpness faded back into something more relaxed and he shrugged slightly.
"You got the basics right," he said. "But books about the Grand Line are written by people who either barely scratched the surface of it or who heard about it secondhand. The real thing is—" he paused like he was trying to find the right word "—bigger than what words do to it."
"Bigger how," Ronald said.
"In every direction." Shanks put his cup down. "The weather isn't just strange — it's alive in a way that feels intentional. You'll be sailing under a clear sky and in ten minutes there's a lightning storm that shouldn't physically be possible. Islands appear on the Log Pose that don't match anything on any map. Sea Kings in the Calm Belt that make the ones out here look like goldfish."
Luffy was listening with his mouth slightly open, food forgotten.
"And the people," Shanks continued. "The ones who've been in the New World long enough — they're not like anything you'd find in the East Blue. The gap in strength between here and there is—" he stopped and looked at Ronald again. "You'd have to see it."
"I believe you," Ronald said.
"Most kids your age would be scared hearing that," Shanks said.
"Most kids my age haven't thought about it much," Ronald said.
Shanks smiled at that. Slow and genuine. "Fair point."
Luffy slammed his hands on the counter suddenly. "I'm going there someday. And I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"
"I know," Shanks said, looking at him warmly.
"And Ronald's going to be in my crew," Luffy added, pointing at Ronald.
Ronald looked at him. "I said ask me again when you have a boat."
"I'm asking again."
"You still don't have a boat."
Luffy pointed at Shanks. "He has a boat."
"That's his boat."
Shanks laughed — a real, full laugh that made the nearest crewmates look over and grin without even knowing what was funny.
---
Later in the afternoon when the bar had settled into a quieter rhythm, Ronald stepped outside for some air.
The village road was warm and dusty in the afternoon sun. A few locals walked past. A cart moved slowly down the road pulled by a tired looking donkey. Normal, quiet, small village life going on around him.
He sat on a wooden bench outside the bar and looked up at the sky.
He'd been in this world for a few weeks now. The novelty of it had settled. The strangeness of being in a child's body had become just — normal. His new normal.
He thought about what Shanks had said about the Grand Line.
He already knew all of it. He'd known it before sitting down at that counter. But hearing it from Shanks directly — from someone who'd lived it — added a layer to it that no amount of prior knowledge could replicate.
*This world is real,* he thought. *Not a story. Not something happening at a distance. It's real and it's moving and I'm in the middle of it.*
The door opened behind him and someone came out and sat on the other end of the bench.
He glanced over.
It was Benn Beckman. He'd brought his drink with him and he sat with one arm resting on the back of the bench, looking out at the road with a relaxed expression.
They sat in silence for a moment.
"You're observant," Benn said without looking at him. His voice was deep and even.
"So are you," Ronald said.
Benn glanced at him. A slight expression of mild amusement. "Shanks noticed you too. That doesn't happen often with kids."
"I'm not trying to get noticed," Ronald said.
"That's probably why it happens." Benn took a slow sip from his cup. "The ones who try to get Shanks' attention — he sees through them immediately. The ones who aren't trying — those are the ones he actually looks at."
Ronald didn't say anything to that.
"Where are your parents?" Benn asked. Not rudely. Just — directly.
"Don't have any," Ronald said. "Old woman named Greta took me in."
Benn nodded slowly. "And you're training every day by yourself?"
"News travels fast in a small village."
"We asked around a little before docking," Benn said simply. "Habit."
Ronald looked at him. "Smart habit."
"It keeps us alive." Benn looked at the road again. "You have good instincts for your age. And you're not scared of things you probably should be scared of."
"Like what?"
Benn glanced at him sideways. "Like sitting next to Shanks and speaking to him like he's just some guy at a bar."
"He was sitting at a bar," Ronald said.
Benn was quiet for a second. Then he made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. "Yeah. He was."
They sat in comfortable silence after that. The afternoon moved around them. Someone from the crew stuck their head out the door, saw Benn, and immediately retreated back inside without saying anything. Benn didn't react.
"Can I ask you something," Ronald said after a while.
"Go ahead."
"The Log Pose. How long does it take to set in the East Blue before you can move to the next island?"
Benn looked at him properly now. A real, full look. "That's a specific question."
"I know."
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I want to understand how navigation works out here before I ever step on a ship," Ronald said. "If I'm going to move through this world I want to understand the rules of it first."
Benn was quiet for a moment. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a small compass-like device. He held it out toward Ronald without handing it over — just close enough to see.
The needle inside was spinning slowly, trying to find something to lock onto.
"Log Pose works by reading the magnetic field of an island," Benn said. "Each island in the Grand Line has its own field. The Pose locks onto it and holds it. Depending on the island, setting time is anywhere from one day to over a year."
"And if you leave before it sets?"
"You lose your heading. You're sailing blind."
Ronald looked at the device. "So patience is part of navigation."
"In the Grand Line, patience is part of everything," Benn said. He put the Log Pose back in his coat. "Most people who die in there die because they rushed."
Ronald nodded slowly, filing it away.
Benn stood up from the bench and finished the last of his drink. He looked down at Ronald for a second with an expression that was hard to categorize.
"You're an unusual kid," he said. Not as a compliment or a criticism. Just as a statement of fact.
"People say that sometimes," Ronald said.
Benn almost smiled. "I bet they do." He turned and went back inside.
Ronald sat on the bench alone and looked at the road again.
The sun was getting lower. The village was shifting into its evening rhythm. Lights starting to flicker on in windows. The smell of cooking drifting out from a few houses down.
He thought about everything he'd absorbed today. Not just the information — the people. Shanks and the way he looked at things. Benn and the way he sat in silence like it was a language. Luffy and the way he moved through the world like nothing in it was a threat.
All of it was useful. All of it was real.
He stood up from the bench, stretched his short arms above his head, and looked up at the sky one more time. The first stars were starting to show up at the edges of the dark blue above him.
*Foosha Village,* he thought. *East Blue. Starting point.*
He turned and went back inside.
Luffy was already yelling about something. Shanks was laughing. The crew was loud and alive around them.
Ronald found an empty seat, sat down, and quietly ordered another plate of food from Makino.
She smiled at him as she set it down.
"You seem like you're settling in," she said softly, so only he could hear.
He looked at the plate. Then at the room full of people around him.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I am."
---
*End of Chapter 3*
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