Chapter Text
Year 1511
An unknown island on the Grand Line
"Uta!" Shanks shouted, but aside from a few people who turned their heads toward him, no one answered.
Rationally, he knew he shouldn't panic. They were in Paradise, the first half of the Grand Line, where things were relatively calmer than in the New World. On an island that was considered fairly safe, where the worst thing that could happen to a traveler was an overpriced room for the night. And yet the longer he looked around and didn't spot that distinctive two-colored hair in the crowd, the more he felt his breath quickening. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard he could hear it over the noise of the festival. He knew he shouldn't panic, but his hands were trembling as he pushed his way through the people calmly strolling the streets.
They shouldn't have come here. That was the first thought that crossed his mind as he ran out onto the town's main street, right under the feet of a dancing troupe of women. Someone shouted something at him, but the words blurred in his ears. It had been stupid of him. He should have known better. In the past, he and Buggy had slipped ashore more than once for some carefree exploring, and it shouldn't have surprised him that Uta would be much the same in that regard. She was a child too. A child who didn't yet know the world well enough to understand just how cruel it could be.
He shouldn't have let her out of his sight. He'd turned away only for a moment, to talk to Yasopp, maybe ten seconds, maybe fifteen, he couldn't even judge it in that moment, and when he looked back, Uta was no longer beside him. The spot where she'd been standing just a second ago, gripping the fabric of his trousers, was empty, as if the girl had never stood there at all. With shaking hands he pushed away the young dancers who had surrounded him on every side, colorful ribbons and feathers brushing his face as he tried to move past them. One of the women even grabbed his arm, trying to catch his attention, laughing, inviting him to dance. He didn't have time for that.
"Uta!" he shouted, dodging past the women, who muttered discontentedly under their breath. He felt his head starting to spin as his breathing grew shallower and faster than it should have been, ragged, as if someone had a hand clenched around his throat. He tried to get it under control, tried to recall how Rayleigh had once taught him to breathe properly, long ago, on the deck of the Oro Jackson, back when he was just a boy. But it was all in vain. His fingers were tingling from lack of air, and there was such a rushing in his ears that he could barely hear his own voice.
"Uta!" he shouted again, whipping his head around as something red and white flashed at the edge of his vision. His heart leapt into his throat, and for a fraction of a second he felt a relief so sharp it hurt. But when he turned, there was nothing there, only the island's residents in their colorful clothes, looking at him with mild curiosity.
Suddenly someone's hand landed on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped, startled. He whipped his head around to the other side, and for a moment everything went dark before his eyes, the world spinning, the colors of the festival blurring into one smear. He blinked slowly, chasing away the dark spots flickering in front of him, feeling his legs go weak.
The face he saw before him was familiar.
"Shanks, can you hear me?" Beckman asked, and his calm voice seemed to anchor Shanks in place. "Breathe. Slowly."
He took one, painfully slow, deep breath, then let it out just as slowly. It didn't calm him, but it made each following breath a little less painful. Beckman didn't let go of his arm, as if he knew that if he did, Shanks might simply crumple to the ground among the dancing crowd.
"Did you see her?" he finally asked after a few minutes. Beckman shook his head no, and Shanks let out a slow sigh, feeling something in him sink, as if the hope he'd been holding onto for a moment had slipped through his fingers. He shouldn't have brought her here. It had been foolish to think he could keep an eye on her.
"She can't have gone far," Beckman said slowly, lighting a cigarette, the flame of the match briefly illuminating his calm, unshaken face. "The others are looking for her too. Let's search calmly."
Beckman was right. Panicking wouldn't help. Shanks drew in a loud breath and let it out slowly, once, twice, until at last he felt the world stop spinning. He felt the trembling in his hands settle, though a heavy, cold stone still sat somewhere in his chest.
"Let's go," he muttered, pushing on into the crowd, though at a slower pace this time, trying to look not just straight ahead but to the sides as well, into every alley, between every stall.
The festival was in full swing. Colorful lanterns strung on lines running between the rooftops flickered everywhere, their light casting a warm glow over the streets. The air was thick with the smell of frying meat, caramel, and pastries. Stallkeepers shouted their offers over one another, someone was playing a stringed instrument, and a group of children ran past him with shrieking laughter, racing each other with sparklers in their hands. The island's residents, dressed in bright, embroidered robes, danced in circles or sat at tables laden with food.
It felt like they'd been wandering for hours, but barely a few minutes had passed before Shanks finally spotted, in the distance, that white-and-red shock of hair tied into two little ponytails. At the sight, something in his chest cracked open. The relief was so sudden and overwhelming that for a moment it stole his breath just as sharply as the terror had before. Uta didn't look like she was in any danger. She was examining something at one of the stalls, and an older man selling goods was saying something to her with a smile, leaning slightly toward her. In that instant all the air rushed out of Shanks's lungs, and he broke into a run toward the girl, shoving aside a few startled passersby. He stopped abruptly a few meters in front of her. He had to force himself not to drop to his knees in front of her and pull her into his arms, even as his hands stretched out toward her on their own.
Uta looked up at him, and in her violet eyes Shanks could see confusion as she studied him carefully, as if trying to work out why he looked like he'd just run across the whole island.
"Uta..." he whispered on a single breath. He felt like he might fall apart right there, that if not for his pride and the last scraps of good sense still left in him, he would have sunk to the ground exactly where he stood. He had been so terrified of losing her. That fear was still sitting somewhere under his ribs, and he knew it wouldn't shake loose from him anytime soon.
Uta broke into a wide smile, her whole face lighting up at the sight of him. She seemed completely unaware of Shanks's panic, bouncing on her tiptoes, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Shanks!" she shouted, as if he weren't standing just a few steps in front of her. "Look!"
As she said it, Uta held out her hands, in which she was holding a fairly large jar that Shanks hadn't noticed before. Inside was nothing but water, in which a small blue fish with tiny red markings on its tail was swimming.
"What's that?" Beckman asked, leaning down toward Uta, and the girl's gaze shifted to him. Shanks was grateful for that. His emotions at seeing Uta again wouldn't let him choke out another word just yet.
"It's a goldfish!" Uta announced. "Can we keep it?"
"But it's not even gold," Shanks managed to get out, and immediately felt Beckman's disapproving look on him, along with Uta's furious glare as she scrunched up her eyebrows and puffed out her cheeks like an angry pufferfish.
"You're dumb, Shanks," Uta grumbled, hugging the jar with the fish to her chest. "That's just what the species is called."
"I don't think that species comes in blue," Shanks murmured, feeling the last of the tension slowly leaving his body, pushed out by something warm and familiar that always came with being near Uta. He watched with amusement as Uta, eyebrows still furrowed, studied the fish, until at last she turned to look at the old man.
"It's really a goldfish?" she asked, her voice so serious it was as if the fate of the entire world depended on the answer.
"Oh, yes. As I said, goldfish come in many colors," the old man said with an innocent smile, and Uta, with all her childlike naivety, nodded along to his words.
"Shanks, can we keep it? Please?" Uta asked, turning to Shanks.
"There are plenty of different fish in the sea, if you want, we can catch one."
"But it wouldn't be the same…" Uta mumbled, sniffling loudly.
"Why not?" he asked, kneeling down in front of Uta. "Maybe we'll get lucky and catch one just like it."
"But this one grants wishes. Please, Shanks."
Her lips trembled and her eyes shone as if she'd burst into tears the moment Shanks tried to refuse. And when it came to Uta, Shanks was decidedly too weak. He let out a heavy sigh and looked at the seller, who was already rubbing his hands together.
"How much for it?" he asked. After all, what harm would it do to let Uta keep the fish? He and Buggy had had a pet of their own for a short while too, once. Though, admittedly, their poor Crab hadn't cost them anything.
"Eight million Berries."
Shanks blinked slowly and wondered if he'd really heard that right.
"How much?" he asked, horrified, watching the seller flash him a toothy grin that in that moment struck him as more predatory than the smiles of more than a few pirates he'd known.
"Shanks," Uta cut in, and Shanks looked down at the girl. "It's a goldfish, they're very rare."
Shanks looked back at the seller, who smiled at him with utter innocence. Oh, the old bastard knew exactly what he'd done! He'd won Uta over to his side so skillfully that Shanks felt something close to admiration mixed in with his mounting irritation.
"But it's not even gold," he repeated, quietly hoping the argument might still sway Uta.
"Shanks, please..." Uta drew out, and Shanks knew he'd lost this battle. He didn't even have that much money on him. With a sigh he turned toward Beckman, who had already held out a pouch of coins in his direction, that amused look on his face.
"She's got you wrapped around her little finger," Beckman remarked with a laugh, and Shanks winced, because it was the plain truth.
The seller looked entirely too pleased with himself as they walked away from the stall, rolling up his sleeves and tucking the coins into his purse. Uta strode proudly ahead of Shanks, holding the jar with the fish to her chest as if she were carrying the most precious treasure in the world. And though Shanks felt swindled for overpaying for a foolish fish, he couldn't bring himself to regret it, seeing how happy Uta was. The very same fear that had gripped his throat in the middle of the festival not long ago now felt distant, almost unreal, as he watched her beaming face.
There was still the matter of the wishes to be dealt with. Shanks suspected Uta sincerely believed the fish would grant her three wishes, and he didn't want her getting her hopes up too much. Disappointment could hurt, as he knew from his own experience. The crab that he and Buggy had taken in when they were twelve — Blue Emperor, Donquino had called it — was supposed to bring good luck. It hadn't brought them any. Or maybe it just didn't work once the poor creature had been boiled and eaten, Shanks thought with bitter amusement.
They returned to the ship, rocking gently on the calm waters of the bay, and Uta quickly disappeared into her cabin. Shanks followed her with a heavy sigh, feeling the exhaustion of the whole evening beginning to settle into his bones.
Uta was already sitting cross-legged on the floor, the jar with the fish set down in front of her, when Shanks opened the door and leaned against the frame, watching the girl. Her face was flushed with excitement, but solemn, as she studied the fish with determination.
"Mr. Fish, please grant my three wishes..." Uta said gravely, and Shanks couldn't help but smile at the seriousness on her face. "First, I want to find a friend. Second, I want to play a great concert, one so big that everyone in the whole world can hear me..." Uta listed, counting off on her fingers. At the third wish Uta hesitated, and her gaze flicked briefly to Shanks.
"And my third wish is for Shanks to be happy," she finally said, and leaned in toward the fish. She covered her mouth, as if sharing a secret with it. "Shanks is funny and he laughs a lot, but I think sometimes he's really sad."
He felt his heart clench, sharp and unpleasant, like a needle driven somewhere deep into his chest. It hurt, that even Uta, so young, could see that this life wasn't the life he wanted, the life he longed for. For a moment the room fell silent, broken only by the gentle lapping of water in the jar. Uta squeezed her eyes shut tight, as if the fish could only grant her wishes if she wasn't looking.
Shanks let out a quiet sigh and stepped back from the doorframe. This was exactly what he'd wanted to avoid. The hope that one foolish sea creature could be the answer to everything.
"Uta..." he whispered, moving closer to the girl. But he stopped when Uta suddenly opened her eyes and broke into a wide smile before jumping up off the floor.
"I know!" she shouted, and Shanks, bewildered, watched as Uta started dashing around her cabin, gathering various things. Finally, once she had everything she wanted, she sat back down in front of the fish and began drawing something on a thin sheet of paper, sticking out her tongue in concentration.
"What are you doing, Uta?" Shanks asked, crouching down beside her, and looked at her paper. He could already make out the crooked outline of a stick figure that looked like a boy, holding the hand of another stick figure that — Shanks guessed — was meant to be Uta.
"I thought maybe the fish is deaf and lives in silence all the time," Uta explained, drawing a crowd of other stick figures, which had to relate to her wish for a concert. "That's why it didn't hear my wishes, so I'll draw them for it!"
Shanks watched with a smile as Uta added more elements to her drawing, tongue poking out in concentration. When she finished, Uta smiled broadly and pressed her drawing up against the glass. The crayons had left streaks of blue and red across her fingers.
"Mr. Fish, here are my three wishes," she announced. The fish, however, showed no interest in Uta's work, only drifting lazily through the water, indifferent to all the effort. With each passing moment Uta's smile grew smaller, and Shanks felt something heavy building in his chest again, this time not from fear, but from a tender, aching sympathy. He sighed quietly and, propping himself up on one hand, sat down on the floor beside the girl. He didn't have the heart to tell her that goldfish granting wishes was just a fairy tale, and that the seller had used her naivety to make eight million Berries off a simple fish.
"You know, maybe it'll take a little time," he began, watching the fish swim around the jar. "Those are some pretty big wishes, and there's only one of it. It's just a little fish, after all."
"Mm..." Uta murmured, and Shanks felt more than saw her rest her head against his arm, until finally she leaned her whole weight into him, heavy with tiredness after a long, eventful day.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the fish swim, tiny bubbles of air rising through the water and catching the flickering glow of the lamp on the desk.
Somewhere beyond the cabin window, the muffled echoes of the festival could still be heard: music, laughter, the distant shouts of vendors.
"Shanks." Uta whispered, and Shanks looked at her. She must have already burned through whatever energy she had left, because she yawned tiredly and rubbed her eyes. "I know it won't grant my wishes. I wouldn't want to use a power like that either, if I were locked in a jar and had my own wish to grant."
Shanks couldn't help but smile fondly. He wrapped an arm around Uta, and she curled in even closer against his side, like a small animal seeking warmth.
"You think it has its own wishes?" he asked quietly.
"Freedom," Uta said solemnly. "It must feel so lonely and trapped."
Shanks looked back at the fish, still circling in the water, and the smile slowly slipped from his face. Freedom. Wasn't that part of their Captain's dream? Wasn't that the very thing Roger had taught him and Buggy? And yet Shanks didn't feel free at all. How could he, when he couldn't even do the thing he wanted most. He couldn't even be with the person he wanted to be with. Fate was like shackles that stripped him of his freedom, tightening with every passing year, with every decision he made not because he wanted to, but because he had to. But at the end of the day, Shanks didn't regret his life. He'd met devoted, wonderful people, people he'd give his own life for. And there was nothing in the world that could make him regret that his path and Uta's had crossed.
Uta yawned loudly, and Shanks looked down at her. The girl was fighting to keep her eyes open, her eyelids growing heavier by the second.
"Guess it's time for bed?" he asked, amused, watching Uta shake her head no, even as her body was saying something entirely different. But she let him lift her up anyway. Shanks laid her down in bed, tucking the blanket around her the way he did every night, ever since Uta had come aboard with them.
"Shanks, let's grant its wish. Since it can't grant my wishes, I'll grant its."
"Sure," he agreed easily. He smoothed the blanket over Uta one last time, watching her eyes slowly fall shut.
"Let it stay with us for a few more days," Uta mumbled, yawning loudly. "We'll feed it so it grows big and strong, and then we'll let it go, okay?"
"Of course," he agreed. "Now go to sleep."
He waited a while longer, until Uta's breathing slowed and became even, until her hand, still gripping the edge of the blanket, went slack. Only then did Shanks allow himself a long, quiet exhale, as if he'd been holding the whole evening's air in his lungs the entire time.
Shanks quietly closed the door behind him, and once he was out in the corridor, he leaned back heavily against it, feeling the wood cool his warm skin through his thin shirt. The ship rocked gently, creaking softly in rhythm with the waves. He closed his eyes for a moment, finally allowing himself to feel the full weight of the day's exhaustion.
Damn that seller! Now Shanks was going to have to release eight million Berries into the sea!
"In two, maybe three days we should catch up with that government ship," Snake said, running his finger along a line drawn on the map. Shanks looked down at the map spread out on the table, where Snake had placed a sugar cube meant to represent the Navy vessel, and Uta's half-eaten breakfast cookie, which apparently was meant to represent their own ship.
"And then what, Boss?" Limejuice asked, tilting his head to the side. "The Navy won't let it go."
"Well..." Shanks mused aloud, propping his elbow on the table and resting his head against his hand. If their information was accurate and the Navy really did have something very important on that ship, then they certainly wouldn't let it go. A fight would probably be fun, just a bit of entertainment after long weeks of calm sailing, but only for a while. Shanks had lately come to appreciate the peace his crew had enjoyed these past months, that rare comfort of not having to worry about anything beyond whether they'd have enough rum to last until the next port. Bored, he let his eyes trail along the lines on the map, his finger drumming absently against the tabletop.
"We could leave the Grand Line for a while," he murmured thoughtfully, his eyes settling on the elegant lettering on the map. "Maybe East Blue?"
"E-East Blue!?" Yasopp shouted, stammering, and shot up from his seat as if someone had poured hot water on him. The bench he'd been sitting on wobbled dangerously, and the cup of tea in his hand nearly ended up on the map.
"Yeah, East Blue," Shanks murmured, already scanning the small islands drawn on the map, the unassuming little dots that each held an entire island within them. Maybe. Just maybe, if he was lucky, he might run into him. Shanks smiled foolishly at the thought, not entirely sure himself whether the prospect delighted him more or terrified him. Buggy would probably be furious at the sight of him.
"That makes sense. We'd be close enough to sail in easily," Beckman agreed, lighting a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily above the table, mingling with the smell of coffee someone had spilled earlier in the corner of the cabin that no one had gotten around to wiping up yet.
"And it's relatively peaceful there," Shanks added, glancing at his first mate. "For Uta, I mean."
"Of course," Beckman agreed dryly, raising an eyebrow, and Shanks already knew that next time he got drunk, he'd better keep his mouth shut.
"Oi, Yasopp," Roux called, turning in his seat toward the sniper, who was standing a few steps from the table, staring at the map as if it might attack him at any moment, as if the paper itself concealed some kind of danger. "Aren't you excited? You'll get to see your family!"
Yasopp seemed to go pale at those words, his eyes going wide as he looked at Roux, opening his mouth, but whatever he'd meant to say was cut off by the door bursting open with such force that it slammed into the wall with a bang loud enough that even Snake, who usually wasn't fazed by anything, flinched in his seat.
"Speaking of family," Hongo laughed, and Shanks turned in his seat toward the door, already sensing who might be behind all this commotion.
Uta came barreling in like a small hurricane. Her two-colored hair streamed out behind her, slipping loose from its carelessly tied ponytails, and her face was a mix of irritation and determination.
"Shanks!" Uta shouted, running up to the table, and in one fluid motion hopped up onto the bench beside Shanks, her small fists slamming down on the tabletop with enough force that the sugar cube representing the Navy ship wobbled precariously.
"Uta. Did something happen?" Shanks asked, sliding the map slightly out of the way before her elbow could smudge one of the routes marked on it.
Uta looked up at him with her big, violet eyes, full of gravity.
"Shanks. I can't find the fish food anywhere."
"Really?" Shanks asked with a surprise that was mostly feigned, though Uta didn't seem to notice, nodding eagerly, her two ponytails bouncing with the motion.
Shanks had to admit that Uta was stubborn and single-minded once she'd set her mind on something. Too bad it was all at the expense of a decidedly overpriced fish which — given its species — couldn't grow any bigger than it already was, no matter how much effort Uta put into feeding it. Still, Uta stubbornly pursued her goal of making the fish grow, and her only solution to the problem was feeding it, and feeding it often, generously, with such regularity that Shanks was starting to suspect the poor creature now had a meal schedule better than more than a few crew members. Beckman had said one day that Uta was more likely to fatten the fish up than make it grow, to which Shanks had only laughed, though privately he suspected his first mate was right. Shanks had overheard some of his officers joking that by the time Uta was done taking care of it, the fish would be so fat it wouldn't be able to be taken out of the tank it swam in — that they'd have to break the glass just to get it out.
And Shanks probably had more important things to worry about than making sure his adopted daughter didn't overfeed her fish to death.
"I looked everywhere, but I can't find it anywhere," Uta admitted, puffing out her cheeks. "And I fed the fish with it just this morning."
"Maybe it ran out?" Shanks suggested, trying not to laugh as Uta crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him with a sulky expression, as if he personally were to blame for the food's disappearance. Which was somewhat true.
"But there was a whole bag..." Uta wailed mournfully, her shoulders drooping in a gesture of childish despair. Her gloomy mood didn't last long, though, as a wide smile spread across her face, so sudden that Shanks barely had time to keep up with it, and she turned toward Roux.
"Is there any lunch left over?" she asked, and there was already a fresh new determination in her voice, as if the problem of the fish food had just been solved in her head.
"Oh, are you hungry, Uta?" Roux asked with a laugh. "There's plenty left. What are you in the mood for? Stew? Roast chicken?"
"Everything! I'll feed it to the fish!" Uta exclaimed happily, hopping off the bench with such speed that Shanks didn't even have time to open his mouth to ask whether that was really a good idea. And before any of them had a chance to stop her, Uta had already vanished, slamming the door behind her with a bang that echoed through the whole cabin.
For a moment, silence fell over the table, as if everyone needed a moment to fully process what had just happened.
"If that fish survives to the end of the day, it'll be a miracle," Beckman muttered, blowing out a stream of cigarette smoke, and Shanks groaned mournfully, dropping his head onto the table so that his red hair spilled across the map, covering part of the marked route. He'd foolishly thought that hiding the fish food would spare the poor creature from Uta's excessive care. He should have known better — Uta always found a way.
"Or maybe we could sail to West Blue instead? East Blue isn't very pleasant this time of year," Yasopp said, his voice still trembling just a touch too much to sound natural, and Shanks, lifting his head from the map, caught something in his eyes that looked very much like panic.
Year 1512
Foosha Village
"Twelve years ago, the infamous pirate Gol D. Roger was beheaded in the city of his birth in front of a thousand people, and his words stirred thousands to take to the seas and show those sons of a bi—" Yasopp cut off abruptly as a white rag struck him hard on the back of the head, with enough force that the sniper nearly toppled off his chair. Startled, he spun around only to find Makino's innocent smile, as she went back to gathering dirty dishes off the table as if nothing had happened. Shanks hid a smile against his arm as Uta frowned at the sudden interruption, she was sitting perfectly upright on a barstool, legs dangling far above the floor, listening with the same rapt attention she always gave whenever Yasopp launched into stories of the old days.
"Sons of what...?" Luffy pressed.
"It means... it's about..." Yasopp stammered, glancing around, but no one seemed eager to lend him a hand. Shanks suddenly took a great interest in his mug, Beckman turned to look out the window, and Lucky Roux stopped lifting his head from his plate entirely. "Sons of biscuits!" he burst out suddenly, as if struck by sudden inspiration.
"That doesn't make any sense," Luffy muttered, furrowing his brow with the kind of gravity only a seven-year-old could manage when trying to solve something that felt unfairly complicated. Shanks barely held back a laugh at the boy's scowling face, which looked as though the entire weight of the world's mysteries had just landed on his narrow shoulders.
"Of course an idiot like you wouldn't get it," Uta said, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her chin with the same superiority she always adopted whenever she felt even slightly smarter than someone else.
"Yeah? Then what does it mean?" Luffy asked, propping his elbows on the bar counter and looking at her defiantly.
"It's an expression you use when you want to insult someone. No one would want to be called a biscuit," the girl explained, before glancing at Yasopp, searching his face for confirmation of her theory. "Right?"
Yasopp looked at Makino, who was giggling behind him, wiping her hands on her apron and watching, with no small satisfaction, as the sniper tried to wriggle his way out of the situation.
"Yeah, that's exactly it," he said. Uta smiled smugly at Luffy, triumphant, as if she'd just won some very important argument.
"I still don't get it," the seven-year-old complained, crossing his arms in an almost exact copy of Uta's gesture.
Uta let out a heavy sigh, as if she were carrying the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, in exactly the same way Shanks had seen her sigh whenever her fish refused to eat at some particular time of day.
"Even you should be able to understand this," Uta said gravely, and Luffy screwed up his face as though thinking hard about it, furrowing his brow so intensely that Shanks thought the boy was going to give himself a headache.
"It doesn't make sense... And talking about food is making me hungry," Luffy complained.
"You're always hungry," Uta observed, rolling her eyes.
"Not always!" Luffy protested. "Only when I think about food."
"But you always think about food."
Luffy opened his mouth to argue again, when he froze, spotting a plate of cookies that Makino had set down in front of him without a word.
"You're the best, Makino!" Luffy exclaimed, grabbing one of the cookies and shoving it straight into his mouth, cheeks stuffed so full he looked for a moment like a small, enthusiastic squirrel. Uta grabbed a cookie too, eating it with far more grace than her companion.
"I'm gonna be a pirate too," Luffy announced with his mouth full, which made the words come out somewhat garbled, and Uta only snorted, brushing crumbs off her fingers.
"A crybaby like you will never be a pirate," she said. Luffy spun toward her and jabbed a finger at her angrily, nearly knocking the plate of remaining cookies off the table in the process.
"You'll see! I'll become the King of the Pirates."
Shanks felt something stir in him at those words, not surprise, since he'd heard similar declarations from the boy before, but something in the tone, in how firmly Luffy said it, made him see, for a fraction of a second, something in this kid that reminded him of someone else. He pushed the thought aside.
"Oi, Luffy. What happened to wanting to join my crew?" Shanks asked with a laugh. The seven-year-old looked at him with a wide grin and puffed out his chest proudly.
"I'll join you, and then I'll start my own crew."
"That means you'll betray Shanks," Uta declared. "You're a crybaby and a traitor, Luffy," she said, and stuck her tongue out at the boy, wrinkling her nose.
"I'm not a traitor or a crybaby! Take it back!" Luffy shouted and lunged at the girl, who had already started to flee, hopping off her stool with an agility surprising for her age, laughing at the top of her lungs as Luffy chased her between the tables, knocking over a chair along the way.
Shanks watched the children as they darted between the tables, shrieking at each other, their voices echoing off the wooden walls of the tavern, mixing with the creaking of the floorboards and the laughter of his crew, who kept having to pull their legs in so neither kid would trip over them.
"They've got way too much energy," Shanks muttered, resting his head on his hand as he watched Uta hop shrieking onto a chair to dodge Luffy's outstretched hands. Makino chuckled softly and, with a polite smile, set another mug of rum down in front of him, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I haven't seen Luffy this happy in a long time. There aren't any kids his age in the village, he's been really lonely because of it. I'm glad he and Uta have become friends."
"Yeah," Shanks murmured. He watched as the kids, tired from running around, started pestering Beckman instead, climbing onto his lap and trying — without success — to coax some story out of him, while the first mate kept a stone face and pretended not to notice them at all. "It's going to be hard to pry them apart now."
He said it lightly, almost as a joke, but somewhere beneath the joke he felt a certain weight. Uta rarely laughed like that with anyone, rarely allowed herself that thoughtless, childlike joy she had now, sitting on the back of a chair with her legs tucked under her, shouting back and forth with Luffy over who could eat more cookies. Most of the time she spent aboard the ship, she was surrounded by grown men who loved her as fiercely as they knew how, but who couldn't give her what Luffy was giving her now, someone her own age, who laughed at the same things, argued over the same silly nonsense, and didn't look at her like something fragile that needed protecting.
"Are you leaving?" Makino asked curiously, tilting her head, her gaze drifting for a moment toward the window, beyond which the Red Force rocked gently on the water in the harbor.
"Yeah, but just for a little while," Shanks murmured. "I want to take Uta somewhere."