Chapter Text
After the Red-Haired Pirates left the Windmill Village, their course took them to a small island just before the Grand Line. A quiet, almost unremarkable island covered in gentle hills, rice fields, and a seaside village: Kiyori Village.
That was where he met her. She was standing at the edge of the marketplace, a basket of herbs in her arms, the sea behind her, the sun in her hair. Her smile was calm—not shy, but like someone who understood the wind. Her name was Arisa.
Shanks had seen countless harbors in his life, yet something about her stayed with him. Maybe because she didn’t see him as an emperor-to-be, nor as a pirate captain, but simply as a man. Maybe because she could laugh at him when he drank too much sake. Maybe because she wasn’t afraid of his scars.
The Red-Haired crew stayed longer than planned. Weeks turned into months. They explored the surrounding islands, and Shanks kept returning to Kiyori. Kept returning to Arisa.
Under star-filled nights they sat on the beach, listening to the murmur of the waves and talking about dreams neither of them could hold on to. She knew he would never stay. He knew she would never try to stop him. And yet there came a night that left behind more than memories.
Shortly before his departure, Shanks placed a small necklace in her hand:
a delicate pendant with a moon engraved on it.
“When you look at it,” he said softly, “you’ll know that I’m still out there somewhere.”
Arisa smiled and only cried after he was gone.
Months later, a little girl lay in her arms. Blond hair with a hint of red, eyes full of life and defiance. She named her Yuna. And one day, Arisa wrote a letter. With trembling hands but a steady heart. She told him about their daughter. Whether the letter ever reached him, she did not know. But she wrote it anyway.
Dear Shanks,
hardly a day goes by when I don’t think about the time we shared. First, I am sorry I did not tell you sooner, but nothing would have changed my decision anyway.
That last night left traces. Traces I have been holding in my arms for a few days now. I’m speaking of our daughter. Yuna. She is beautiful. She has your mischievous smile.
I know your path leads you across seas I will never see. I do not expect you to return, and I am not writing to tie you down. I only want you to know that there is a little girl out there who lives under the same sky as you.
I will take good care of her. I will tell her that her father is a man who laughs even when the world is raging. I will tell her that you were free and that it was exactly for that reason that I loved you.
If chance or fate should one day let you meet, then you will be able to recognize her: she wears the moon necklace you once gave me. It is the only thing of yours I kept, and the most precious thing I can give to her.
If this letter never reaches you, it will still find its way.
Maybe on the wind. Maybe across the waves. Maybe in your heart.
Farewell, Shanks.
And thank you… for everything that was.
Arisa