Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The city greeted Shanks with a deafening, chaotic roar that made everything inside the boy sweetly freeze for a heartbeat, only to be overturned by a wave of hot, surging excitement. This was not simply another ordinary day spent making a short stop on some unknown island. After several endless days surrounded by nothing but the monotonous horizon of the sea and the steady rocking of the deck, even the most ordinary harbor street seemed impossibly vast, bustling, and full of mysteries.
Everything here moved to the same frantic rhythm. Merchants shouted themselves hoarse as they called out the prices of freshly caught fish, sailors hauled heavy tarred crates from one place to another, and down by the very pier, fishermen cursed at one another, arguing over a patch of space that none of them seemed willing to give up.
From the open windows of seaside taverns, thrown wide to the sunlight, came the booming laughter of drunkards, mingling with sharp, cheerful barking, while children, dogs, and nimble cats constantly darted between the legs of passing adults. The air was saturated with the pungent smell of saltwater, fish singed over hot coals, fiery Eastern spices, cheap tobacco, and some elusive, sickly-sweet scent that, no matter how hard Shanks tried, he simply could not identify.
He stood at the very edge of the wooden gangplank, leaning against a rope and doing his absolute best to look as though this seething port left him completely unimpressed. He looked about seven years old, sturdy and healthy, with a warm flush in his cheeks. Bright reddish hair poked out from beneath his battered straw hat, and his brown eyes sparkled with mischief. He wore a simple white short-sleeved shirt cinched at the waist with a broad sash, along with loose trousers tucked into a pair of well-worn boots.
In truth, his legs were trembling with anticipation, and more than anything in the world he wanted to tear off in every direction at once. But he held himself back with all his might, trying to remember the captain's stern instructions. The captain, after all, also happened to be his guardian.
“Just don't wander too far from the pier,” said a large, imposing man with a magnificent black mustache curled jauntily upward. His broad, open smile crinkled the corners of his warm eyes with kind wrinkles. Dressed in a long, dark-red captain's coat thrown proudly over his shoulders, Roger looked every bit as imposing and formidable as a captain should.
Yet when speaking to his young cabin boy, his voice was remarkably gentle as he handed him a small canvas pouch that jingled pleasantly with coins. “If you get hungry, buy yourself something nice. But mind you – don't go blowing it all on complete rubbish!”
Shanks nodded solemnly, although, truth be told, by the end of the speech he was so excited that he was barely listening to a word of it.
“And if you happen to run into any of our men, tell them we're meeting at the southern pier by evening,” added a tall, fit man with light hair tied neatly into a ponytail and a stern, appraising gaze behind his glasses. Silvers Rayleigh, the first mate, was always the most composed and level-headed man aboard the ship.
“And while you're at it, see if the local market has any juicy oranges!” boomed a burly sailor with a thick beard, casually slinging a heavy tarred rope over his broad shoulder.
“And if you happen to come across a shop selling sturdy rope—well, remember where it is. And if you spot a good bar while you're at it, you'd better remember that place too!”
“And most importantly, you little rascal, don't get yourself into any fights with the locals!”
That was the moment Shanks' patience finally snapped, and his cheeks flushed with indignation.
“I'm not a little kid anymore!” he shouted, stamping his left foot. “Stop lecturing me! I can certainly handle a few simple errands like these!”
Several of the adult pirates – grizzled, battle-hardened men with weather-beaten faces marked by deep scars – exchanged glances. They gave short snorts, doing their best to suppress the laughter threatening to burst out at the young cabin boy's pompous pride.
Roger, meanwhile, broke into a broad, wide-open smile and clapped the boy on the shoulder with his rough, massive palm – a heavy hand, sure, given the man’s sheer size, but the gesture itself was surprisingly gentle. “Of course you're not little. Shanks is already a proper man. That's exactly why we're trusting you with such important responsibilities.”
Shanks immediately straightened his shoulders, his chest swelling with pride. He absolutely loved how weighty and respectful those words had sounded.
Important responsibilities. Imagine that!
Not the usual dismissive “Go play while the grown-ups take care of things,” nor “Stay on the ship and keep out of sight,” and certainly not “Stop getting under everyone's feet.” He was a full-fledged member of the crew, even if he was still the youngest of them all!
If they trusted him with the ship's money, important errands, and the freedom to wander around a foreign city on his own without worrying, then he really was beginning to look like a proper pirate. Quickly tucking the pouch behind his sash and adjusting the straw hat that had slipped down over his forehead, Shanks made a jaunty leap onto the wet planks of the pier.
“I'll do everything perfectly!”
“And don't lose the money! And don't get too carried away over there!” came Rayleigh's warning shout from behind him.
“I won't lo-o-ose it!” the boy called back, already running.
A few seconds later, Shanks' bright red hair beneath his straw hat had completely disappeared into the many-faced crowd of the harbor.
At first, he genuinely intended to do absolutely everything he'd been told.
For the first half hour, the boy diligently counted crates of supplies at the warehouses with an air of great importance, memorized the tangled maze of streets, earnestly questioned sun-weathered merchants about rope, and even doubled back to a couple of shops he'd already passed just to make absolutely certain he hadn't mixed anything up.
He loved the feeling of being useful.
Every completed errand felt like a small but important victory – a piece of proof that very soon he would stand shoulder to shoulder with the real pirates of his crew.
But little by little, his list of tasks began to run out.
Only a few minor errands remained, along with the strange, enticing city stretching around him.
And then there was that overwhelming feeling of complete freedom if only for a couple of hours, until the crew inevitably came looking for their distracted cabin boy.
Shanks stopped right in the middle of the noisy market square, felt the heavy weight of the purse at his belt, and broke into a satisfied grin.
No one was telling him where to go anymore, step by step.
He could choose any winding street he wanted. He could walk down to the distant docks and stare at strange foreign ships. He could buy some incredible local sweet. Or he could simply turn in whichever direction the wind happened to beckon him.
The feeling of independence was intoxicating.
And precisely because he was so intoxicated by it, he completely failed to notice the girl who had been watching him the entire time, hiding behind a rotten wooden fish crate.
She looked to be about his age, perhaps a little younger.
At first glance, it would have been easy to mistake her for an ordinary little street urchin, one of the countless ragged children that crowded the streets of every seaside town.
But the moment one's gaze lingered on her for even a second longer, it became clear that this girl looked at the people around her in a way entirely different from the other children. Her gaze was sharp, predatory, and calculating. She assessed every passerby like a professional.
First came the shoes: “God, look at those ragged boots, worn down and full of holes. Means there isn't a coin to be found in those pockets.” Then the hands: “Ugh, that man with the foamy mug has dirt under his nails, and his fingers are shaking. Bet there's nothing worth taking from him. He's probably already spent everything he had this morning on another bottle of rum.” Next, she studied the belts, paying particular attention to deep pockets: “Now, that fellow behind the stall practically reeks of danger. Best not to mess with him.” Finally came the faces: “That woman's lips are pursed far too tightly, and she's got such a stern look about her. She'd notice something was wrong ilmmediately.”
After a moment of thought, the girl adjusted her bangs with a familiar gesture. Her short blue hair was so caked with dust and street grime that it looked almost black, with a dark graphite sheen. A fresh bruise was already darkening one cheek, while a yellow-purple mark spread beneath one eye, and a sharp knee bore the dried crust of an old scrape. Even so, she was clearly trying to keep herself presentable as much as her circumstances allowed. Her tangled hair had been combed as best she could manage, her torn clothes no longer hung completely like a sack and had even been smoothed down in places, while a dirty gray scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and pulled almost all the way up to her nose.
The scarf remained the most beloved and precious thing she owned. It concealed half her face and gave her the illusion of protection, allowing her to feel almost invisible. The girl crouched with her skinny legs tucked beneath her, rhythmically flexing and relaxing her fingers.
In her right hand, she held a small apple that had already begun to rot. With astonishing dexterity, she rolled it from palm to palm, tucked it behind her elbow, produced it again in an instant, tossed it into the air, and caught it without making a sound.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the apple simply vanished. With lazy grace, the girl slipped her hand into a deep pocket. The apple was already resting inside.
She narrowed her eyes in satisfaction. It was another one of her polished little tricks, another small feat of sleight of hand. Of course, nobody applauded tricks like these on the streets. If you were caught in the act, you could easily get a beating – or worse, be beaten half to death.
But who cared?
She practiced the flexibility of her fingers every single day. She learned how to delicately pluck fruit from a stall while leaving the gullible merchant staring boldly into his customer's eyes. She learned to slip tight purses from people's belts without making a sound, barely brushing against their clothes. She learned to transfer jingling coins from someone else's pocket into her own so quickly and discreetly that her victim would remain unaware of the loss for another ten minutes.
Sometimes, just for fun, she even managed something particularly audacious: leaving some worthless trinket behind in the emptied pocket.
An ordinary river stone.
A scrap of twine.
An old copper button. It doesn't matter.
And once, she had actually managed to stuff a piece of dried bread covered in green mold into the pocket of a well-to-do townsman. She then spent a good half hour doubled over in a shadowy alley, quietly giggling as she watched the bewildered man disgustedly trying to figure out how that piece of filth had somehow ended up in his clothes.
She sincerely believed that all of this was real magic (a talent) and that she herself was the most ingenious and elusive thief in this entire rotten city.
The girl cast another quick glance across the square and suddenly caught sight of Shanks.
First, her practiced eye registered the clothes: far too good, far too clean.Then came the sturdy, intact boots. And finally – the plump little pouch at his belt, jingling with coins.
She tilted her head slightly, studying the prize she had just found.
Too neatly dressed. Too clean. Too relaxed. And most importantly—that expression on his face. Trusting. Practically begging for trouble.
It took her only a second to understand. He was a stranger. Not local. And clearly not one of those hardened street rats who would tear your throat out over a single copper coin.
The girl slipped down from the crate with smooth, noiseless grace. Her scarf safely concealed her mouth, but a hungry spark of excitement had already lit up in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Shanks had just wandered over to a fruit stall.
“Hey, mister, how much is this one?” he asked, pointing at the juiciest orange he could see.
The merchant lazily scratched the back of his head and named a price that was obviously far too high.
Without a second thought, Shanks reached for his belt and untied the little canvas pouch.
Idiot, the girl thought instantly as she watched the scene unfold. But in that very second, the rest of the noisy world ceased to exist for her. All of her concentration narrowed down to the tiny space surrounding that pouch.
Coins!
Real coins. Heavy, solid, ringing coins!
She no longer heard what the merchant and the boy were saying to each other. Her fingers began moving on their own, repeating the phantom motions she had practiced so many times.
One... two... three...
She drew a deep breath and traced the entire plan through her mind.
Step. Shoulder. Hand. Pocket. Coins. Run.
The girl slipped after him like a silent shadow.
She did not hurry. Haste and frantic movements were the telltale signs of greedy amateurs. She moved closer, expertly pretending to be fascinated by a basket of rotten apples, then smoothly turned and, carried by her own momentum, “accidentally” bumped her shoulder against Shanks.
“Oh! I'm so sorry!” the boy blurted automatically, nearly dropping the orange.
The girl looked up in surprise.
He actually apologized? To her?! What an idiot...
She barely managed to suppress the snort of laughter threatening to escape. Shanks suspected absolutely nothing. He calmly continued counting out the required coins while the girl had already extended her slender hand with surgical precision. Two fingers silently brushed the very edge of the fabric.
One more moment—and the pouch would have been hers.
But Shanks unexpectedly decided to turn around.And in that exact fraction of a second, their eyes met head-on. The girl froze instantly, as though she had run straight into a stone wall. Shanks froze too, his mouth falling open.
For several endlessly long seconds, they simply stared at one another in silence.
The girl looked as though she had been caught in a mousetrap: her eyes widened in horror, and her entire body went taut as a bowstring.
Shanks, meanwhile, stared at her as though some strange wild creature had suddenly materialized out of thin air. Tangled blue hair. A face smeared with soot. A scarf pulled almost up to her eyes. Bruises. A wary, guarded stare. And... a hand still suspiciously close to his belt.
Shanks blinked in confusion.
Very slowly, centimeter by centimeter, the girl began to pull her hand away. “What... are you doing?” he managed, frowning.
She said nothing. If it hadn't been for the thick scarf and layers of street grime, one might have noticed how her cheeks instantly went white with clammy fear.
“You... you were trying to steal my money?!”
Her frightened expression instantly transformed into a wild, dangerous glint. Shanks instinctively took a step back in response to the sudden threat. The girl immediately retreated by the same amount.
They both realized at once that the situation had taken a very ugly turn.
“I was just looking!” she hissed through the fabric of her scarf, narrowing her eyes.
“At my money pouch?!”
“I don't need your stupid pouch! It's ugly anyway! And you've got terrible taste. No wonder, you can tell just by looking at that ridiculous hat!”
Shanks stared down at his pouch in stunned disbelief, while his other hand instinctively reached up to touch the brim of his straw hat. “My taste is perfectly fine! It's just an ordinary pouch! And the hat is awesome!”
“Exactly! It's ordinary! Completely tasteless!” she snapped.
The girl abruptly spun on her heel and hurried toward the crowd. Shanks, without even understanding why, followed after her.
“Hey, wait!”
Instead of stopping, the girl merely quickened her pace.
“Hey, stop! I just want to ask – what's your name?”
She broke into an even faster pace, weaving between the pedestrians.
“My name's Shanks, by the way!”
The girl glanced back over her shoulder without slowing down, her furious eyes flashing.
“Don't care! Leave me alone, you idiot!” and she bolted.
For a moment, Shanks was too stunned by the sudden insult to react. Then, unexpectedly even to himself, he let out a bright, ringing laugh and took off after her with renewed enthusiasm. “But I already told you my name! Don't you think you should at least tell me yours? Hey! Wait!”
“Get lost!”
“Why?!”
“Because you're an idiot! And I don't hang around with idiots!”
“But I'm not an idiot! I –”
“Oh, really? You sure look like one!”
He picked up speed, breaking into a full run now. The girl darted through a narrow gap between two market stalls, easily vaulted over a low crate of fish, and disappeared around the corner in an instant.
Shanks stopped, staring into the empty, shadowy alley. “Wow... she's fast!”
Still, he ventured deeper into the alley. Suddenly, from somewhere behind the brick wall to his right, came the faintest rustle. Shanks froze, peering into the thick shadows of the passageway. He had barely taken another step when an angry, muffled whisper came flying out of the darkness:
“I told you to leave me alone!”
Shanks tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“A-ha! So you are in there?”
There was no answer.He took another cautious step.
And finally, he saw her.
The girl had backed herself into a corner between a grimy wall and a tall stack of wooden barrels. In the heat of her tactical retreat, she had managed to trap herself in a dead end. Shanks stopped two steps away and raised both hands.
“I'm not going to hit you!”
She remained silent, breathing heavily through the fabric of her scarf.
“I really just wanted to meet you!”
“Why?!” she muttered, clenching her fists.
“Well, why not? I'm curious! Besides, you were the one who came up to me! Weren't you scared at all?”
She gave him a contemptuous look.
“You? I'm not scared of you one bit! Why would I ever be scared of someone like you?”
“Uh-huh. Sure. I can see that,” Shanks said with a good-natured smile.
The smile only made her angrier. The girl pressed her entire body against the rough wall, her fingers tightening until her knuckles turned white.
If I have to, I'll bite him. If I have to, I'll kick him where it hurts. And if things get really bad, I'll scream so loud the whole port will come running.
She already knew perfectly well how to deal with grown men who thought they had the right to grab street children. And boys her own age? She could wrap them around her little finger without even trying. The most important thing was never to show fear.
Shanks took another half-step forward.
“So... you're a thief, huh?”
“No!” she snapped.
“Then what are you?”
“I just happen to be very good at picking up things that people leave lying around!”
“That's called stealing!”
“Nothing of the sort!” The girl proudly lifted her chin. “Stealing is when you get caught!”
Shanks paused for a moment, trying to process this peculiar piece of logic.
“So... since I didn't actually catch you stealing... you're not a thief?”
“Exactly!”
He flashed her another mischievous grin. And that was when the girl noticed his open palm. A couple of coins glimmered in it. Her eyes fixed on them.
Then shifted to his smiling face. Then back to the money. Shanks caught the greedy look in her eyes. He thought for a moment, then simply held out the two shiny coins toward her.
“Here. Want them?”
The girl jerked her head up, narrowing her eyes.
“What?!”
“Berries! You know, money. Don't tell me someone as cool as you—who's apparently not quite a thief – doesn't know what money looks like?”
The girl frowned even harder, although it seemed impossible for her expression to become any more suspicious.
She stared at the outstretched coins as though they were a loaded rat trap baited with poison. “Why would you give them to me?”
“Just because.”
The girl didn't move an inch.
“Nobody ever gives money away for no reason!”
Shanks merely shrugged carelessly.
“Well, I do.”
“Oh, really? Then you must be completely crazy!”
“Heh. People tell me that all the time!”
The girl hesitated, then slowly extended her thin little hand. But at the very last possible second, instead of taking the two offered coins, she snatched the entire heavy pouch with lightning-fast reflexes!
Shanks' eyes comically widened at the sheer audacity of it. The girl immediately performed an almost impossible roll over a barrel and took off running.
“H-H-HEY! STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“In your dreams!” came her triumphant shout. “IF YOU WANT IT, THEN COME AND CATCH ME!”
“BUT YOU JUST SAID YOU WEREN'T A THIEF!”
“WELL! I CHANGED MY MIND!”
She burst back onto the market square.
People scattered in every direction as the two of them tore through the crowd. Some cursed furiously, others burst out laughing, while the fruit merchant stood there with his mouth hanging open, desperately trying to understand why two apparently insane children had just raced straight across his carefully arranged stall.
The girl weaved between adults with phenomenal agility. Shanks was visibly faster and had longer legs, but she knew every nook and cranny of the port like the back of her hand.
She ducked beneath a passing cart, shot out the other side, vaulted over a basket of eels, and was already preparing to disappear into the dark maze of narrow alleyways.
Almost.
With one last desperate leap, Shanks managed to grab the long, dangling end of her scarf. The girl came to an abrupt halt. The fabric jerked painfully tight, and she nearly toppled backward.
“Got you!” Shanks shouted triumphantly.
She spun around, her eyes blazing with genuine, primal fury. Realizing that brute force wasn't going to get her free, she hugged the stolen pouch tightly against her chest and bared her teeth like a cornered animal.
“L-Let go of my scarf!”
“Nope!”
“That's my money!”
“You just stole it from me!”
“Well, if I stole it, that means you lost it! So now it's mine!”
“What?! That's not how it works!”
“How would you know? You're not from here! In this city, that's exactly how it works!”
She prepared for another desperate dash and threw herself sideways with all her strength, but Shanks planted his feet firmly and clung to the scarf with both hands. The thief felt the fabric tightening brutally around her throat.
Rage instantly overwhelmed reason. She twisted her whole body around and sank her teeth into his forearm – with such savage, animal force that Shanks let out a loud squeal of surprise and pain.
“AAAAH! THAT HURTS!”
He stumbled backward, releasing the fabric.
The girl was already preparing to bolt, but Shanks, having completely forgotten about caution, caught up with her again and grabbed her by the shoulder.
“Hey! Stop, you crazy little beast!”
“YOU stop!”
She whipped around, ready to bite him again. And that was precisely when the scarf, pulled by the momentum, finally slipped down around her neck.
Shanks froze.
For the first time, he saw her entire face.
The brazen little thief had the most ridiculous, utterly unusual nose imaginable –a bright red, perfectly round nose, far too large for her thin, angular face and so conspicuous that it was simply impossible to overlook.
For several seconds, Shanks just stared at the strange little “wonder” in front of him.
The girl realized what had happened and slowly, almost frantically, pulled the scarf back up.But it was already too late.
“What are you staring at, you freak?!” she hissed, her face turning crimson.
Shanks honestly tried with all his might to keep a serious, stern expression on his face. Honestly! But the corners of his mouth began to twitch upward. His cheeks started shaking. And the next moment, the alleyway erupted with his deafening, uncontrollable laughter.
At first he tried to choke it back, but then he completely lost control, doubling over and clutching his stomach as he howled with laughter.
The girl froze. Her eyes grew enormous, and deep within them flared a raw, burning hurt.
“You... what's wrong with you?!”
Shanks tried to say something, but all that came out were fresh bursts of helpless laughter.
“Your... hahahaha... your nose!..”
The girl flushed from the roots of her hair all the way down to her neck.
“W-W-WHAT?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT?!”
“It's... pffft—hahahaha... it's huge! And it's red too, like... hahaha... like a tomato!”
The girl was practically trembling with boiling rage.
She could endure the street grime, even though she actually preferred being clean. She could endure the constant, gnawing hunger, chewing on grass on the worst days. She could endure bruises and scrapes. She could endure grown-ups sneering at her and calling her a rat, a beggar, or a petty thief.
But she had never, ever allowed anyone to laugh at her nose.
“SAY THAT ONE MORE TIME, YOU BASTARD!”
“Come on, I didn't mean–” Shanks gasped, looking up at her, only to snort with laughter again.
And that was the final straw. The girl clenched her thin fist until her knuckles cracked, took one lightning-fast step forward, and punched him square in the nose with all her strength.
“AAAAH!”
Startled by the blow and the deafening crack that seemed to explode inside his head, Shanks clapped both hands over his battered face.
“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”
“For MY nose, you idiot!”
“But I just said what I saw!”
“Exactly!”
The girl began backing farther into the alley, clutching the stolen pouch tightly against her chest. Shanks stared at her in complete disbelief. Blood was already streaming from his nose, running over his lips and down his chin.
“You... you're completely insane!”
“And you're an ugly redhead!”
“You hit me!”
“You deserved it! You have to pay for saying rotten things!”
“I was just laughing! And you stole my money, which is way worse than laughing at you!”
“Then laugh by yourself! And stay here without your money!”
She abruptly turned around, preparing to make a final getaway.
“HEY! WAIT!”
Shanks' expression changed instantly. Hurt, outrage, and a sudden flare of irritation surged through him. The girl also stopped for a moment, startled by the inexplicable change in the atmosphere.
Shanks stared at her with his dark eyes opened wide. And in that very instant, the noise of the harbor street behind them seemed to suddenly fall silent. An invisible, heavy, impossibly dense pressure squeezed the space between them.
Shanks immediately understood what had happened. He had used his Haki. Damn it. He hadn't wanted things to come to this. He had simply been startled, then angry, and given in to the impulse to make the girl stop running away.
The air seemed to grow thick.
Several adults passing nearby suddenly staggered and clutched at their heads. Someone dropped a heavy basket from their hands.
Yet the girl standing in front of him...
She didn't even flinch. She simply had no idea what that pressure was. To her, it felt as though the entire world had suddenly dropped a heavy, dusty sack onto her shoulders for a single second. But her legs held firm.
She merely frowned slightly, eyeing Shanks suspiciously.
“What... what did you just do?”
Shanks himself looked bewildered by the sudden burst of power.
“I... I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me!”
“I'm not lying! I mean, maybe I do know, but that's not the point!…”
The girl stared intently at his bloodied face for several seconds. Then, having apparently arrived at some wild, desperate decision deep inside herself, she took two quick steps toward him. Shanks barely had time to register what she was doing before, still reeling from what had just happened, she slammed her fist straight into the bridge of his nose again.
“AAAAH! Come on, seriously! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
Shanks collapsed onto his backside, completely disoriented by the second blow. While he struggled to push himself up on trembling hands, the girl was already sprinting toward the opposite end of the alley. He scrambled back to his feet and, wiping the blood from his face, charged after her again.
“STOP RIGHT THERE! GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!”
The girl glanced over her shoulder without slowing down and stuck out her tongue.
“NO WAY!”
“I'LL CATCH YOU ANYWAY!”
“TRY IT, PUDGY!”
She nimbly vaulted over a low fence, slipped between two carts piled high with fresh hay, and finally disappeared into the thick, colorful crowd of the harbor. Shanks burst into the open and desperately spun his head from side to side.
To the left – shouting merchants.
To the right – the creaking of fishing boats and hundreds of unfamiliar faces.The blue-haired girl had vanished as though she'd never existed.
He was breathing heavily, raggedly, wiping the blood smeared across his chin with his sleeve... And for some reason, he was grinning from ear to ear.
That little wild thing had cleaned him out. She had bitten him hard enough to draw blood. She had punched him in the nose twice. She had called him a freak. And then she had made her triumphant escape!
Shanks looked toward the place where she had disappeared and suddenly realized something. For the first time in a long while, he had absolutely no desire to return to those dreary shipboard errands. He desperately wanted to find that strange, crazy girl again.
Meanwhile, the girl had already climbed up a drainpipe onto the roof of a nearby warehouse and settled there, pressing her back firmly against a warm brick chimney. Once she had finally caught her breath after the wild chase, the first thing she did was greedily count her stolen prize. All the gold and silver coins glittered in the sunlight.
Every single one was there.
She smiled triumphantly and safely tucked the heavy pouch into an inner pocket of her ragged jacket. In that same battered garment, inside her own hole-ridden pocket, lay her old “treasure” – a small glass marble with a cloudy blue swirl trapped inside. She had found it near the pier a week ago and had firmly decided that it was an exceptionally rare gemstone. Ever since then, she had regularly polished it with the edge of her scarf, trying to restore its original shine. Beside it lay a heavy lead button that she had also scrubbed and polished until it caught the light with an almost silvery gleam.
She sincerely considered all of these things her greatest treasures. Let the stupid adults remain clueless about their value! One day, she would become rich. Incredibly, fabulously rich – rich enough to buy herself an entire island! Rich enough that she would never again, not even once in her life, have to wonder where she was going to scrape together enough food for the evening.
The girl cautiously touched her round nose through the scarf and grimaced in annoyance.
“Idiot...” she muttered quietly.
Then she thoughtfully bit her lip.
“Although...”
She carefully peeked around the chimney. Her eyes instinctively began searching the crowd below for that ridiculous straw hat.
Yes, I was right, terrible taste. What an idiot...
Down in the square, Shanks was still spinning around in place, trying to spot her among the passersby. Afraid that she might give herself away, the girl instantly ducked back behind the chimney.
“Very, very strange idiot.”
And, deciding that she had had quite enough excitement for one day, she silently crawled across the roof tiles toward the neighboring building, carrying away someone else's money and her very first, utterly unforgettable impression of the boy.
Meanwhile, Shanks was still trying to recover from everything that had happened, glancing around in every direction. Gradually, he realized something. He had never even learned her name. What an idiot! At the thought, Shanks couldn't help but snort. Heh. Red Nose was right after all. I really did make a complete fool of myself.
But there was one thing he knew for certain. There was absolutely nothing ordinary about this day anymore. And now he urgently had to figure out how he was going to explain all of this to Rayleigh.
He had been robbed. And beaten up! Him, Shanks, who could talk circles around practically anyone and usually came out on top of every fight!
And yet, for some reason, as he touched his swollen nose, he realized that he desperately wanted to see that red-nosed girl again.

Shanks appeared at the pier just as the blazing, disk-shaped sun began to sink slowly into the deepening blue waves, bathing the harbor waters in crimson and gold.
By then, the crew had managed to accomplish everything they had planned: the holds were packed to the brim with fresh provisions, the leisurely loading of barrels of fresh water had been completed, and more than once they had asked one another with growing concern where, exactly, their hyperactive cabin boy had disappeared to.
At first, nobody had been particularly worried.
Shanks was strong. He had been given very specific errands, a pouch full of coins, and the captain's permission to take a short walk.
So, most likely, he had simply gotten distracted by some colorful stall selling exotic souvenirs, stopped to stare at unfamiliar ships, or decided that an extra “five minutes” of freedom couldn't possibly matter.
But those five minutes had quietly stretched into half an hour.
Then into a full, rapidly passing hour.
And now Rayleigh stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the colorful stream of people flowing through the harbor market with that particular, heavy expression that promised absolutely nothing good.
“He definitely remembers where we're docked?” the first mate asked sternly without turning his head.
“Of course he does,” Roger replied casually.
The captain lounged on a sturdy wooden crate beside the ship's rail, squinting against the rays of the setting sun as he lazily toyed with the leather edge of his glove.
“Shanks isn't an idiot. He'll manage everything just fine. He's not a little boy anymore. He's a real man.”
Rayleigh cast him a deeply skeptical look over his shoulder. “You're the one who put that nonsense into his head.”
Roger nearly stumbled over the accusation. “And now he's apparently doing everything he can to prove his adulthood to the entire neighborhood.”
The pirates standing nearby burst into laughter, exchanging amused glances.
“Maybe our little genius decided to buy the entire market,” one sailor suggested with a chuckle, wiping his blade with an oily rag.
“Or he simply got lost in three streets and a cloud of dust.”
“Or he picked another fight with words and fists.”
“With someone?” a stocky gunner snorted. “Knowing his temperament, he probably managed to attract the attention of half the local street thugs.”
Roger merely let out a booming laugh, adjusting the captain's coat draped over his shoulders.
“Let the boy enjoy his freedom. He'll come back eventually. Where else could he go?”
Rayleigh critically assessed the sun sinking toward the sea.
“If he's not back on deck in ten minutes, I'm going into the city.”
“In ten?”
“Exactly.”
“And what if he comes wandering back half an hour from now?”
“Then you'll come looking for him with me, so you can personally take responsibility for his upbringing.”
“HA! Deal!” And at that exact moment, a familiar figure appeared on the pier bathed in sunset light.
One of the pirates leaning against the bulwark was the first to spot a flash of bright color among the gray clothes of the townspeople.
“Oh, looks like our hero is finally coming back!”
Several pirates turned toward the gangplank at once.
“About time!”
“Shanks!”
“Where the hell have you been—”
The sentence died halfway through.
It never made it past his lips.
Because the young cabin boy looked as though he had just crawled out of some kind of disaster.
The straw hat his captain had given him dangled helplessly against his back, held in place only by the thin cord around his neck. His once-snow-white shirt was covered in gray streaks of street dust and dark stains of unknown origin, one sleeve had been twisted completely out of shape, and his boots were caked in a thick layer of dried harbor mud. His red hair was so thoroughly disheveled that it resembled a ruffled bird’s nest.
But what struck the crew most of all was his face.
Shanks’s nose was swollen, suffused with a painful purplish-red hue, while a thin, dried trail of blood ran from his left nostril, staining his chin.
The deck instantly fell into ringing silence.
Shanks froze at the foot of the gangplank, breathing heavily as his embarrassed yet strangely radiant gaze darted from one pirate to another. His hands nervously fidgeted with the dust-covered hem of his shirt, then moved to the cord of his hat, then back to his shirt again... But the most ridiculous part of the entire spectacle was the expression on his face – utterly satisfied, almost triumphant, lending the whole situation an unmistakably surreal quality.
Rayleigh slowly straightened, all traces of his earlier irritation vanishing in an instant. The smile brought on by his initial relief faded from his face, replaced by stern composure and concern.
“Shanks.”
“Huh? Yes, Mr. Rayleigh?”
“What in the name of all the sea devils happened to you?”
Shanks glanced down at his pitiful outfit, patted the dirt from his trousers, and only now seemed to realize just how ridiculous he must look in the eyes of the seasoned pirates.
“To me?” He automatically poked a finger at his nose and winced as a fresh stab of pain shot through it. A smear of fresh blood remained on his fingertip. “Oh... You mean this? It’s nothing, honestly! Just a little thing.”
The stern pirates who had been swapping stories only a minute ago visibly frowned.
“You’re bleeding, kid.”
“Yeah, I noticed...”
“You’re covered in mud like someone dragged you behind the ship.”
“Noticed that too.”
“And why is your hat hanging on by a thread?”
Shanks reached behind his head, felt the crown of his straw hat, and gave an embarrassed grin.
“Well... That’s actually a pretty long and complicated story.”
Roger no longer looked carefree. He rose heavily from the crate, crossed the deck in a few broad strides, and looked down at the boy.
“Who hit you?”
The question rang out with weight and authority. There was not a trace of his usual captain’s good humor, nor the slightest hint of a joke. The tension that instantly spread from Roger to the rest of the crew made the pirates straighten. Someone instinctively rested a hand on the hilt of his saber, while another cast a grim glance toward the city’s alleys, searching for any potential threat to their cabin boy.
“Who did this to you, Shanks?” Roger repeated, more firmly.
For a moment, Shanks was taken aback by the sudden change in the adults’ mood. He hesitated, and then his lips stretched into the widest, proudest grin imaginable.
“A girl!”
The silence that descended over the ship grew even thicker—and considerably more bewildered.
“...What?” one of the sailors repeated, blinking.
“I already said! A girl!”
“What girl?”
“A thief. A real street thief!”
Rayleigh slowly covered his face with one hand and let out a muffled sigh.
“I think I’m beginning to understand why a few simple errands took you the entire day...”
“She stole my money!” Shanks exclaimed excitedly, completely oblivious to the first mate’s sigh.
“Your money? The money the captain gave you?”
“Yep!”
“And you simply let her take it?”
“No, I didn’t!” the boy shouted indignantly, throwing his hands into the air. “She was incredibly nimble! And fast!”
“But you caught her eventually, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I caught her in an alley!”
“And what happened next?”
“She bit me!”
The pirates exchanged surprised glances. A few failed to suppress quiet chuckles.
“She bit you?”
“On the arm! Look!”
Shanks proudly rolled up his filthy sleeve and displayed the distinct, slightly reddened semicircle of small teeth marks on his forearm.
“And then I tried to grab her again!”
“And?”
“She punched me right in the nose!”
Roger took a serious look at his swollen nose.
“Yeah, we figured that much out.”
“And all because of the nose!” Shanks added with particular emphasis.
The older pirates completely lost the thread of the story.
“What do you mean, ‘because of the nose’? Because of your nose?”
“Well, you see, I started laughing!”
“And what were you laughing at?”
Shanks bounced excitedly on his spot and jabbed a finger at his own face.
“At her nose! It’s huge! And so bright red! At first I couldn’t even believe noses like that were real!”
One of the sailors abruptly turned toward the sea, clamping a fist over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Rayleigh groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Shanks...”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, honestly!”
“You laughed at a street girl’s appearance, after which you quite reasonably received a fist to the face?”
“Well... when you put it that way, I guess so.”
“In that case, I’m forced to conclude that the punch was entirely deserved.”
“But she hits like a real sailor! I still have stars flying in front of my eyes!”
Shanks cautiously touched his injured nose again and winced at the sharp pain, but his eyes continued to burn with indescribable excitement. Roger, who had been watching the cabin boy’s expression closely, leaned his hands against the railing.
“All right, kid. Tell us the whole story. From beginning to end.”
Shanks nodded eagerly, soaking up the attention of the entire crew.
For the first few minutes, he spoke breathlessly, stumbling over his words and gesturing wildly. He vividly described how he had been choosing oranges, how he had sensed someone watching him, and how the blue-haired girl with the battered face had deftly snatched the pouch and tried to pretend she was simply walking past.
When the story reached the moment where the thief had described his straw hat with deep contempt as “tasteless rags,” the first chuckles broke out across the deck.
“‘Terrible taste,’ huh?” Rayleigh snorted. “The girl seems to have a decent sense of style, at least.”
“HEY, RAYLEIGH! How can you say that?! The hat is great! It’s a gift from me, the CAPTAIN!”
“Tch. Be quiet for now. Shanks, you keep going. Don’t get distracted.”
The boy eagerly continued, describing the chase through narrow, fish-smelling alleys, the dead end behind the barrels, and their strange argument in which the thief solemnly insisted that taking something that belonged to someone else did not count as stealing if you weren’t caught in the act.
“...And then I took out two coins and held them out to her myself,” Shanks said proudly.
Roger actually raised an eyebrow in astonishment.
“You decided to voluntarily give money to a thief?”
“Yeah!”
“Why on earth?”
For a moment, Shanks’s voice softened. The excitement that had been bubbling through him gave way to a seriousness unusual for a boy his age. He lowered his gaze to his muddy boots.
“She was so skinny. And she was little, too. I thought maybe she was really hungry. And she had bruises.”
Silence settled over the deck once again. The laughter stopped. The seasoned pirates, men who had endured hardship and learned the harsh laws of the Grand Line, ceased their teasing. Some of them knew all too well what it meant to be a hungry child on the streets of a port city.
“Anyway, I wanted to give her the coins,” Shanks continued more quietly, “but she looked at me like I was an idiot, snatched the whole pouch, and took off like Sea Kings were chasing her!”
“Exactly what one might expect,” Rayleigh concluded dryly, though a hint of approval for the cabin boy’s intentions flickered in his eyes.
“So I went after her! I almost caught her, grabbed her scarf, she bit me, I let go... And that’s when the scarf slipped!”
Shanks brightened again, forgetting his melancholy.
“And I saw her nose! It really was incredible! I couldn’t help myself—I burst out laughing right there in the alley! And she got so angry, like I’d stolen her most precious treasure, and then... wham! Right on the nose!”
“And afterward?” Roger asked quietly, leaning forward.
Shanks faltered. The cheerful excitement vanished from his posture at once. His fingers resumed their nervous work, twisting the cord of his straw hat into tight knots.
“And then... I got angry.”
Rayleigh immediately caught the change in the atmosphere. His gaze sharpened like the edge of a saber.
“What exactly happened, Shanks?”
“I just... I didn’t want her to get away again!” the boy said defensively, looking up at the adults. “I was afraid I’d lose her in the crowd. And I got angry. Really angry. And... I think I let the Haki out again.”
Several pirates behind Roger stopped shifting from foot to foot and went completely still. The captain slowly straightened to his full height.
“You’re sure?” Rayleigh asked gently, but with unmistakable pressure.
“Yes...”
“Did you do it consciously?”
“No! I swear, I didn’t! It just... came out on its own.”
Shanks frowned as the details of that moment surfaced in his mind again.
“The air became thick and heavy, like right before a storm. Some street vendors nearby suddenly collapsed, and someone dropped a basket of fish... I thought that girl would pass out too, like everyone else usually did...”
Roger’s familiar smile disappeared completely. For a moment, he even looked genuinely alarmed at the thought that somewhere in the city there might be an unconscious child lying in the street.
“And?”
“She... she just kept standing?”
By now, not a single person on the deck was laughing. The atmosphere aboard the ship had drawn tight as a steel cable.
“She didn’t move at all?” Rayleigh asked.
“No.”
“Not even stagger under the pressure?”
Shanks stubbornly shook his head.
“Not at all! She just frowned, asked me what kind of trick I’d pulled, and jumped right at me...”
The boy shuddered as he rubbed his injured face again.
“And punched me a second time. Right in the same nose!”
Absolute, ringing silence descended upon the deck. The only sound was the quiet slap of waves against the wooden hull.
“She... she hit the wielder of Conqueror’s Haki?” one of the sailors muttered in disbelief.
“Me,” Shanks corrected with grim pride. “That’s exactly what I meant...”
Roger said nothing, staring thoughtfully into the distance over the boy’s disheveled red head. An astonishing picture was taking shape in his mind.
Rayleigh, however, was thinking far more practically. He remembered exactly what Shanks’s burst of Conqueror’s Haki had been like. Even at his immature age, that spiritual pressure could instantly knock ordinary adults of weak will unconscious. A street child should have collapsed within the first second.
And yet this girl...
She had not merely remained standing beneath the full force of the mental pressure. She had gotten angry and attacked in response.
“Where exactly did you part ways?” Rayleigh asked sharply, already taking another step toward the gangplank.
Shanks blinked.
“In the market alley by the southern warehouses... Why?”
“What did she look like? Describe her again. In detail.”
Shanks immediately threw himself into the task with renewed enthusiasm.
“Blue hair! Short and dirty. A thick, dark-gray scarf. A fresh bruise on her cheek, scrapes on her knees. And... well... a red nose.”
Rayleigh gave an expressive glance at Shanks’s own swollen nose.
“We’ve already established that.”
“Not mine! Hers! A real one! All round and everything!”
Roger suddenly burst into loud, rolling laughter.
“Well, now you’re both red-nosed! This is magnificent!”
“It’s not funny!” Shanks grumbled, hiding his burning face.
Rayleigh was already making his way down the wooden gangplank toward the pier.
“Come on, Roger.”
“Going to track down the little runt?”
“We’re going to find a child who, without any visible effort, withstood a direct burst of Conqueror’s Haki from our cabin boy. With potential like that, she won’t survive on these streets for long. She’ll either disappear, or fall in with the wrong people.”
“Hey! I’m coming with you!” Shanks eagerly stepped forward, but without even turning around, Rayleigh held out one broad palm behind him, stopping the boy in his tracks.
“You’re staying on the ship.”
“But I was the one who found her first! I know more than you do!”
“You’re injured, covered in dirt, lost the money you were entrusted with, let yourself be outsmarted, got bitten, and took two direct punches to the face.”
“Once! The second one didn’t count!”
“All the more reason. Wash yourself, treat your wounds, and wait on deck. That’s an order, cabin boy.”
Roger laughed and gave the indignant, puffed-up Shanks a hearty pat on the shoulder, nearly making him crouch from the impact.
“Don’t sulk, kid! We’re just going to scout around!”
Shanks stood by the railing, leaning against the wooden edge as he watched the two figures in long cloaks quickly disappear into the gathering dusk of the port city. A broad, undaunted smile spread across his bitten lips once more.
He didn’t understand why the adults were making such a fuss. To him, everything was much simpler. And much more interesting. That girl was incredible. Shameless. Annoying. A real pain in the neck. Shanks carefully touched his burning nose and quietly, genuinely laughed into the now-empty pier beside the ship.

The evening wind coming in from the sea carried the strong, heavy scents of salt, tar, and freshly cooked fish, mingling with the stuffy warmth of the port city.
Roger and Rayleigh walked down the narrow street at an easy, confident pace, following almost the same tangled route that Shanks had described to them only minutes earlier, with breathless enthusiasm and painstaking attention to every little detail.
The problem was that his chaotic description was only terribly useful in one very specific situation if you already knew exactly where to look.
And, unfortunately, they had absolutely no idea.
They had no name, no specific address, not even the slightest certainty that the frightened girl was still somewhere in the noisy district Shanks had described.
All they had was a sparse description of her appearance: blue hair, dirty clothes that clearly had not been washed in a long time, a worn scarf pulled all the way up to her nose, fresh bruises, and a bright, conspicuous red nose.
And roughly the same amount of useful information about the shabby place where she had so skillfully vanished into the crowd.
Roger sighed, looked around, assessed the surroundings, and without a word turned into the first alley that seemed suitable.
It was completely silent.
A few wooden crates, some old, rotting barrels, and patches of withered straw scattered across the dirt gathered dust silently against the walls.
Rayleigh bent down and peered carefully behind one of the massive barrels.
“No one here.”
They continued on at an unhurried pace, inspecting every possible hiding place.
The next alley was even narrower than the previous one. On one side, a grim warehouse rose like a solid wall, while on the other stretched an uninterrupted row of shops whose back doors opened directly onto the street.
Roger suddenly stopped and thoughtfully rubbed his chin.
“What if she lives somewhere around here, right in these back alleys?”
“Entirely possible,” Rayleigh replied, scanning the dark corners.
“Then she must be hiding somewhere nearby.”
“If she even lives here,” the first mate countered skeptically, “and if she has any kind of roof over her head on a chilly night like this.”
Roger said nothing. He simply watched the people moving around them with a sharp, perceptive gaze.
Unlike young Shanks, who had been inexperienced enough to search only for one particular girl, the seasoned adult pirates immediately noticed entirely different things: who had lived here for years, who had merely come in for work, and who seemed to linger in the same places day after day.
They watched where children gathered without adult supervision, which merchants had grown accustomed to tolerating street urchins, and which alleys led toward the warehouses, which toward the bustling market, and which straight to the docks.
Spotting a promising person, Rayleigh politely stopped beside an elderly, weary-looking merchant.
“Excuse me for bothering you. Have you been working here long?”
The man slowly raised his clouded eyes and looked over the strangers.
“Long enough to know every brick around here. Were you looking to buy something, gentlemen?”
“Not exactly. We’re looking for a little girl,” Rayleigh explained gently.
“In this enormous port city?” The merchant gave an ironic chuckle. “Then you’ll have to walk across the whole place and back. And even then, there’s no guarantee you’ll find her.”
Roger laughed heartily, easing the tension.
“Well, thank goodness, we’re hoping to avoid that! Luckily, we know what she looks like. Blue hair, about ten years old, very skinny, dirty clothes, and a scarf pulled almost all the way up to her nose.”
The merchant thought deeply, scratching the back of his head.
“Blue hair, you say...?”
“Exactly.”
“Ah, there are several street kids around here who fit that description. How does that help you?”
Rayleigh frowned slightly and added the most important detail.
“She also has a very distinctive red nose.”
The merchant looked at him with obvious skepticism and even repeated the question.
“Very red? Big, too? Round?”
“Very,” the first mate confirmed, recalling Shanks’s description.
“Ah... Then I might know who you mean.”
Roger and Rayleigh immediately perked up and stepped forward.
“Where is she?”
“Don’t know where that little urchin is right now,” the merchant said, scratching his mustache, “but I’ve personally seen the girl around the old warehouses a couple of times. She’s pretty good at snatching apples from the market. Seems like that’s where she hangs around most often.”
Rayleigh exchanged a glance with Roger, silently confirming the conclusion they had both reached.
“Which way exactly?”
The merchant gestured vaguely with his calloused hand.
“That way, toward the docks. There’s an old row of abandoned warehouses behind the bakery. Kids often hide out there. It’s generally safer for the ragged ones – hardly anyone goes there.”
“Thank you for your help,” Rayleigh said with a nod.
They quickly headed in the direction he had indicated.
Meanwhile, behind one of those very abandoned warehouses the merchant had just mentioned, Buggy sat comfortably on an overturned wooden barrel. At that particular moment, she was occupied with the most important, most sacred task of her entire difficult day.
She was eating. It was warm, real bread, incredibly soft on the inside, with a crisp, toasted crust, still carrying the irresistible smell of an actual oven. Buggy took an enormous bite and froze in pure bliss, eyes closing.
“Mmm...”
She greedily chewed, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through her stomach, and took another bite. It was indescribably wonderful.
For the entire past month, she had practically been surviving from one day to the next: searching for food wherever she could, enduring humiliation and constant hunger. Sometimes she managed to snatch a juicy fruit from a market stall. Sometimes she could swipe a piece of dried meat. And sometimes someone, out of pity or simple carelessness, would throw away a stale piece of bread that could still be salvaged if she brushed enough dirt and dust off it.
But today, she had gotten unbelievably, spectacularly lucky with her haul! After her excellent theft from that red-haired boy, she mostly spent the rest of the time relaxing in the shade until she suddenly caught the intoxicating smell of freshly baked bread. The grumpy owner of the bakery was preparing a fresh batch for the next day. From her lookout on the roof, Buggy cast a quick glance down and spotted the cozy little bakery. Clutching her haul tightly in one fist, she boldly walked inside.
The woman behind the counter immediately frowned and began waving her hands threateningly.
“Hey! Get out of here, you little hobo! I told you clearly if I catch you in here again, I’ll break your hands!”
Buggy stopped dead, but she didn’t retreat.
“I didn’t even touch anything yet!”
“I don’t care! Get out! You’ll scare away my customers!”
Buggy was already preparing to turn around and run as usual when she suddenly remembered something very important and incredibly pleasant. With a proud expression, she reached into the inner pocket of her jacket, pulled out several clinking coins, and held them up to the stunned woman.
“What if I pay?”
The baker stared at the money, then at the filthy Buggy, then back at the shining coins. Her irritated expression softened slightly.
“What do you want?”
Buggy spent several seconds gazing at the golden-brown loaves displayed on the shelves with pure delight.
“That one.”
“One?”
Buggy paused for a moment, mentally calculating her wealth, then straightened proudly.
“Two!”
The woman raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“You got enough money for that, runt?”
With tremendous pride, Buggy placed the coins directly on the wooden counter.
“Of course I do!”
In reality, she had just barely enough, but that was fine. Buggy always tried to save a little money for emergencies, and today she desperately wanted to treat herself. After the dangerous adventure she had just survived, she felt almost rich enough to live out her grandest fantasies.
In the end, she received two precious, warm loaves of bread. She carefully hid one deep beneath her scarf and jacket, while the other she was now slowly and triumphantly devouring as she sat on the barrel. Buggy took another bite and happily swung one leg, the foot of her worn-out shoe poking through a hole.
“Just how incredibly brilliant am I?”
She gave a satisfied little snort, swallowed, and began listing her accomplishments.
“Spotted the red-haired idiot. Outsmarted him. Took his money... And then stood up for myself!”
She cautiously touched her round nose, winced, and sighed.
“And I only punched him twice. Tch. I could’ve given that brat one more hit for good measure!”
Buggy scratched the back of her head thoughtfully.
“Well, at least I bit him!”
Her mood soared again.
“Perfect! He totally deserved it, that unbearable brat.”
She really had endured too much in her short life: sticky grime from alleyways, constant hunger, fingers going numb on freezing nights, bruises from adults kicking her, shoves, and cruel voices shouting insults after her.
She had long since learned that whenever someone noticed her strange nose, it was better to cover her face first, pulling her scarf all the way up to her eyes. And if someone still started laughing openly, she tried with all her might to pretend she didn’t care.
Sometimes it worked.
Sometimes it didn’t, and the tears simply fell onto the ground.
More often than not, whenever she tried to stand up for herself, things only got worse. They simply beat her. The dark bruise beneath her eye still ached painfully and refused to go away. But today had been completely different!
Today, she had struck first!
And somewhere deep inside her blossomed a strange, almost unfamiliar, intoxicating feeling as though, for once, she had actually won against life itself.
Buggy proudly straightened her skinny shoulders again. “Yep, yep! That’s me! The amazing and magnificent Buggy! The strongest of them all! I even knocked that spoiled little sea brat flat on his back!”
She raised her half-eaten loaf high into the air as though it were a priceless ceremonial trophy.
“The great Buggy, who’s going to eat until she’s completely stuffed today too! He-he-he!” she happily resumed chewing.
And it was precisely in that sweet moment that heavy footsteps sounded from behind the warehouse wall.
Buggy froze.
She stopped chewing.
The warm bread was still clenched in her sweaty hand, but she could no longer taste its heavenly flavor. The footsteps were getting closer.
Two adults were speaking quietly to each other, and at first Buggy naively assumed they were simply passing by on their own business. There were always people walking around the port: sailors, merchants, dockworkers, drunkards, warehouse owners. If she panicked and hid every time she saw an adult, she might as well never leave her safe little hideout and simply starve to death there.
But then, through the wooden fence, she clearly heard a familiar, blood-chilling description.
“Hey there, miss. Haven’t you seen a child around here? Blue hair, about ten years old, skinny, dirty clothes, scarf pulled up to the nose...” Buggy instantly stopped breathing.
Her fingers clenched around the soft bread so hard they nearly crushed it.
“She also has a red nose,” the second voice added.
She squeezed her eyes shut in horror and bit down on her lip.
“Oh no...”
Was this all because of that red-haired jerk?!
Had he gone and tattled on her?!
Did he actually have someone he could call for help?!
Oh, crap! Was that why he had been acting so smug and confident?!
Buggy slowly, terrified of making even the slightest sound, pressed her back against the damp stone wall. Her first panicked thought was to run as fast as she could.
The second was...
Where exactly?
She frantically looked around.
To the left – a solid warehouse wall.
To the right – a narrow passage between barrels.
Straight ahead – another wall.
Behind her – the alley beyond the fence, where the adults’ voices had just come from.
She could try squeezing between the heavy crates, but the gap was far too narrow.She could climb onto the roof...
No. Too slow. Too noisy. They would spot her immediately.
She could hide for a while and then slip away through the passage. That would be the best possible solution! Buggy quickly and silently jumped down from the barrel and practically flattened herself against the brick wall behind the barrels and crates. She cautiously peeked around the corner.
. First, a tall man with neatly groomed blond hair came into view. She didn’t know who he was, but she had seen him that morning. He was one of the adult pirates from the enormous ship that had docked at the harbor. Then, behind him, came a huge, broad-shouldered man with a magnificent black mustache. Buggy’s eyes slowly widened, and her knees nearly gave out.
Damn.
She had actually stolen money from a real pirate?!
And that little red-haired bastard was a pirate too?!
“Oh...” she breathed almost inaudibly.
She immediately ducked back out of sight, pressing herself even closer to the ground. Her heart hammered somewhere in her throat, its dull pounding echoing through her temples. She hugged the loaf of bread tightly against her chest, desperately trying to make herself invisible.
Meanwhile, Roger and Rayleigh calmly walked past the first row of barrels.
“Nothing here either,” Rayleigh concluded, looking over the dead end.
“Wait.”
Roger suddenly stopped and looked down. Fresh breadcrumbs dotted the dirt. Rayleigh stepped closer and pointed. A small piece of fluffy bread lay on the wooden lid of one of the barrels.
“She’s definitely here,” the first mate quietly concluded.
Buggy froze behind the corner, afraid to even swallow. She wasn’t stupid, and she certainly wasn’t a coward, all right?! If the adults had been shouting or yelling, Buggy would have known exactly what to do – run as fast as her legs could carry her. If they threatened her, she could hit them and slip away. If they tried to grab her immediately, she would bite until they bled.
But these two were on an entirely different level. She could feel it.
And yet they simply looked around with the calm confidence of people who knew, one hundred percent, that sooner or later they would find her and that she had almost no chance of getting away from them quickly.
A sticky knot of fear tightened in her chest. Buggy slowly backed away from the corner, tiptoeing behind the large barrels.
One step.
Another.
She hugged the bread tightly against her chest and began silently sliding along the wall. The important thing was not to make a sound! Don’t knock over a dry barrel. Don’t step on any loose glass. And don’t get caught!
She had almost reached the narrow passage between the two warehouses, blocked off by a fence, when a deep, confident voice sounded directly behind her.
“Little girl?”
Buggy froze.
Her heart seemed to slam straight into her throat, cutting off her breath. She didn’t turn around.
“We know you’re here,” Roger’s voice continued.
She clenched her teeth.
He’s lying! He doesn’t know! How could he possibly know?! Buggy is the quietest person alive when she’s sneaking around! This is just a stupid bluff!
Buggy took another very slowly step.
Then she cautiously crouched down and, twisting herself sideways, slipped between two filthy barrels.
Not a sound!
She let out a tiny breath of relief.
Almost made it!
The light of the main street was already visible ahead.
Just a few more meters...
Just get out! Just—
“Roger.”
Rayleigh’s calm voice came from somewhere very close.
Buggy’s head snapped up.
Standing ahead, completely blocking the end of the passage, was the blond-haired pirate.
He wasn’t even looking directly at her. He simply stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting. Buggy slowly backed away, feeling panic flooding her mind.
“Oh, come on...”
She suddenly spun around and ran back the way she had come, but Roger was already striding toward her. Buggy swerved, knocked an empty crate aside with a loud crash, and shot through the gap between it and the wall at full speed.
“Hey!” the captain called after her.
She didn’t answer.
She ran as fast as her skinny legs could carry her.
An alley.
A turn.
Another one!
She knew this district perfectly. Here, she could disappear with ease!
She had memorized it down to the last stone. She knew where she could squeeze between buildings, where a rotten fence was barely holding together, where there was a low roof, where merchants stacked their crates, and where she could hide beneath a cart.
The adults wouldn’t catch her!
No way! The great Buggy was far too clever! She would outsmart them all!
Buggy burst onto a narrow street, crossed it in two quick leaps, and deftly ducked beneath an old wooden staircase. She crouched there, pressing her damp palm tightly over her mouth to keep herself from breathing too loudly. Heavy footsteps thundered right past her hiding place. She counted silently.
One...Two...Three...
The footsteps quickly faded into the distance.
Buggy slowly smiled in triumph.
She had done it!
Carefully, she poked her head out of the shadows. No one. She was just about to crawl out and make a run for it in the opposite direction when she suddenly heard, very close by:
“She went that way.”
Buggy froze again, afraid to move.
Another voice answered.
“You sure?”
“You’re still asking? Of course I’m sure!” the first voice replied with a faint chuckle.
There was a brief pause.
Then Rayleigh spoke.
“Generally speaking, if I were a child and wanted to disappear quickly, that’s exactly where I would go.”
Buggy scowled furiously beneath the staircase. Look who thinks he’s so clever... Jerk. She waited a little longer until complete silence settled over the street, then decided to take the risk. Quietly, she crawled out from beneath the staircase and moved along the wall like a shadow.
Not running.
Running would attract unnecessary attention immediately.
She turned one corner.
Empty.
Another.
Empty! He-he-he!
Buggy was already beginning to speed up happily when Roger suddenly seemed to materialize from thin air directly in front of her.
She slammed on the brakes and nearly lost her balance.
“Damn it!”
She spun around to run back, only to find Rayleigh blocking the way behind her. They hadn’t merely found her. They were methodically herding her into a trap, like experienced hunters. Buggy slowly backed away. Roger took one smooth step forward.She retreated.
“Easy,” the captain said gently, raising his open palms.
“Don’t come any closer!” Buggy hissed like a feral cat, clutching the bread even tighter against her chest.
“We just want to talk.”
“You’re lying!”
“We’re not. Pirate’s honor.”
“OH, REALLY?! And I’m just supposed to believe you?! And what’s this ‘pirate’s honor’ supposed to mean?!”
She stared wildly at Roger. He said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes slightly.
For some reason, that silence frightened her even more.
Buggy frantically looked around. Behind her – a heavy barrel and Rayleigh. Ahead – Roger. She quickly calculated the distance and her chances. Slip between them? The huge man with the ridiculous dark mustache was simply too big!
But there was no other way out.
Buggy suddenly lunged forward without warning.
“HEY!”
Roger tried to catch her by the shoulders, but she ducked nimbly and practically slid between his long legs. It worked! She was almost free!
Almost...
At the last possible moment, Rayleigh stepped sideways, completely blocking the narrow passage. Buggy slammed her shoulder into his leg with all her momentum. It was as solid as a stone wall, and she staggered backward. He didn’t even bother grabbing her. He simply stood there like a monument. She darted in the other direction, but Rayleigh was instantly there again.
Buggy stopped. Her eyes darted wildly from side to side, desperately searching for an escape. Then, suddenly, she spotted it. A narrow gap between the first mate and the wall of the building.
There!
She bolted with all her strength, but Rayleigh moved with astonishing speed and managed to catch the long end of her scarf. The fabric pulled painfully against her neck. Buggy jerked backward so violently that she nearly lost her balance.
“Let go!”
She spun around and grabbed the scarf with both hands, trying to yank it free from the pirate’s fingers.
“Let me go!”
“Calm down, runt.”
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” she screamed, driving her elbow into his side with all her strength.
Rayleigh took half a step back, more from surprise at the suddenness and ferocity of the attack than from any real pain. Buggy immediately lunged forward again. The scarf slipped from his fingers, and she ran.
One step. Two. Three. Four. Five!
She was almost at the exit onto the wide street when Roger easily caught her from behind by the collar of her battered jacket. Buggy jerked violently, twisting her entire body.
“No!”
O She began struggling desperately – first with her hands, then with her feet, and finally with her whole skinny body, trying to wriggle right out of her clothes.
“Let me go!”
Roger held her carefully but firmly, making every effort not to accidentally hurt the child.
“Easy, easy!”
“DON’T TELL ME TO BE EASY! I’LL SCREAM! AND I CAN SCREAM REALLY LOUD! I’LL SCREAM SO LOUD THE WHOLE PORT WILL HEAR ME!”
“We’re not going to hurt you, silly girl.”
“Then let me go!”
“You’ll run away again.”
“Of course I will!”
“That’s why I’m holding you! Wahahaha! You’re quite a funny little girl!” Roger burst into thunderous laughter.
Buggy froze for a second at such shamelessness, then began kicking and squirming with renewed fury.
“I HATE YOU!”
“We’ll survive somehow,” the captain sighed, without loosening his grip.
“Let me go right now!”
“No.”
“Why?! Why do you even want some random street kid?!”
“Because we need you on the ship.”
Buggy instantly went rigid, her eyes widening.
“What...?”
Roger looked down at her with a good-natured grin.
“Shanks really wants to get properly acquainted with you.”
Buggy slowly went pale, feeling everything inside her turn ice-cold with terror.
Oh God, they’re going to take my money and then beat me half to death!
“No...”
“Yes.”
“NO!” she desperately twisted and struggled in his arms again. “I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!”
“You are.”
“I’D RATHER DROWN IN THE HARBOR!”
For the first time, Rayleigh frowned.
“Can you even swim, little drowned rat?”
Buggy instantly fell silent. She looked up at him. Then, with incredible smugness and pride, she hissed: “YES! Buggy is the greatest swimmer in the entire world! There’s nobody better!”
Rayleigh nodded knowingly.
“Excellent. Then you’ll fit right in on the ship.”
Buggy snorted angrily, but she had no time to do anything else. Roger gently and effortlessly scooped her into his arms as though she weighed no more than a sack of apples.
And that was when she became genuinely, desperately afraid. Not because the pirate was vastly stronger than she was. Not because she had finally been caught. But because, for the first time in a very, very long while, she clearly understood that she could not simply slip away, hide in some dark crack, or run. They were actually carrying her somewhere unknown. Buggy clung desperately to her crumpled loaf of bread with one hand and grabbed the front of Roger’s coat with the other, trying to keep her balance.
“Let me go...”
This time, the words came out barely above a whisper, accompanied by a small sob.
Roger looked at her and spoke softly.
“Don’t be afraid, kid.”
Buggy immediately lifted her head proudly, hiding the tears gathering in her eyes.
“I’m not afraid!”
Rayleigh said nothing to that childish lie, simply looking at her face – at the old, dark bruises, the fresh scratches, and the painfully thin little arms clutching the food in her hands. The first mate understood perfectly well that the little girl was far more frightened than she was willing to show. But they still had no intention of letting her go back.
A few minutes later, the pier and the ship itself came into view.
Buggy saw it – enormous, with towering masts. Then she spotted the familiar straw hat on deck. And the bright red hair beneath it. Shanks noticed them first. His face immediately lit up with an ecstatic grin.
“That’s her! You found her!”
Buggy slowly turned her head and froze.
For several long seconds, they simply stared at each other in silence. Shanks stood at the railing with his swollen, battered nose. Buggy was in the arms of his mighty captain, holding a loaf of bread in one hand and his stolen money in her pocket.
“Hi!” Shanks cheerfully waved at her. Buggy stared at him in shock.
Then at the delighted Roger.
Then back at Shanks.
“Are you... are you kidding me?”
Shanks grinned from ear to ear.
“I told you! We just needed to get properly acquainted!”
Buggy narrowed her eyes and flared up with such furious rage that her entire face seemed to turn the same color as her famous red nose.
“IDIOT!”
Her scream echoed across the entire harbor. Shanks simply laughed cheerfully in response. And Buggy finally realized that this already miserable day had somehow managed to become even worse.
They had found her. And caught her.
And now they were dragging her onto a gigantic pirate ship to face the red-haired idiot whose defeat she had only just considered the greatest triumph of her entire life.
She did not yet know that this pirate ship would become the very first place in the world where someone would actually be waiting for her. And she certainly did not know that these very people – the ones she sincerely hated right now for refusing to let her escape – would one day become the most important and warmest part of her childhood.