The Red Force was a hive of activity as the crew worked tirelessly to repair the damage from the storm. The ship was anchored in a secluded cove, its battered hull groaning as the crew patched holes and secured loose rigging. The mood was tense with purpose, everyone focused on the task at hand.
Building Snake, the ship's stoic helmsman, supervised the repairs among the crew. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The crew was busy, but their work had an unusual quietness. He scanned the deck with his dark sunglasses, his gaze sweeping over the familiar faces of his comrades. That's when it hit him—Hongo was nowhere to be seen.
Snake's brow furrowed, his long, ashen mane extenuating his unease. Hongo was one of the most reliable members of the crew, always where he was needed. If he was missing, it wasn't by choice. Snake made his way to Beckman, overseeing the repairs to the mast. His scarred face only seemed to sharpen his focused expression. The deep, jagged mark across his temple served as a constant reminder of past battles, adding an intensity to his already dominating presence.
"Benn," Snake said, his voice low but urgent. "Have you seen Hongo?"
Benn paused, taking a long pull on his cigarette. He narrowed his eyes as he skimmed the deck. "Not since he went ashore for supplies. That was hours ago."
Snake's mood darkened. "He should've been back by now. Something's wrong."
Benn nodded, the end of his cigarette glowing as he pulled on it, his mind racing. "Gather a small team. We'll search the town."
Snake quickly assembled a skilled crew, including Lucky Roux. As they prepared to leave, Snake observed the busy port, cautious of potential dangers. The search party entered the town quickly and with purpose. Snake guided them through the streets and alleys. They questioned merchants and townsfolk, but no one had seen Hongo—or so they claimed. Snake's frustration grew with each dead end.
As they turned a corner into a quieter part of the town, Snake noticed something on the ground—a small, familiar object glinting in the sunlight. He knelt and picked it up, his muscular tattooed forearm flexing in anxious irritation. It was a button from Hongo's coat, the edges frayed as if it had been torn off.
Lucky Roux crouched his large round form beside him, "That's Hongo's, isn't it?"
Snake nodded, his jaw tightening. "He was here. And he was in a hurry."
The group followed the trail, their senses on high alert. The alley led to an isolated courtyard, where the signs of a struggle were evident—overturned crates, scuff marks on the ground, and a faint smear of blood on the cobblestones.
The corners of Snake's eyes crinkled around his glasses as he pieced together what had happened. "He was ambushed. And they took him."
Lucky Roux's fists clenched roughly on the rack of meat he had with him. "Whoever did this is going to regret it."
Snake stood, appearing grim as he held the evidence in his palm. "We need to find out where they took him. And we need to move fast."
*****
Shanks stretched his arms as he gazed out at the tranquil garden from the matted entrance of the Dojo. "That lantern-lighting ceremony last night was something else," he said, his loose red hair falling to the side when he tilted his head admiringly. "I've been to a lot of festivals, but that... that was special."
Yasopp nodded, his blond dreadlocks swaying as he bobbed. "Yeah, it was beautiful. And the way the whole community came together—it's not something you see every day."
Master Gaius, leaning against a nearby post, his weathered kiseru pipe clenched between his teeth, a trail of smoke curling lazily into the air, chuckled. "It's a tradition that's been passed down for generations. Each lantern carries a wish or a memory. It's our way of honoring the past and looking toward the future."
Shanks glanced at him thoughtfully. "You've got quite the home here, Gaius. It's something worth protecting."
Master Gaius nodded with a flicker of pride as he held his chin up. "That it is. And we'll do whatever it takes to keep it safe."
Yasopp leaned back on his hands, and with a curious raise of an eyebrow, he asked, "So, what's the next event for the festival? I heard something about a sparring tournament."
Master Gaius puffed on his pipe with a note of excitement. "That's right. The tournament's always a highlight. Fighters from all over the island come to test their skills. It's a chance to show what you're made of."
Shanks grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sounds like fun. Maybe I'll enter. Give the locals a run for their money."
Master Gaius chuckled teasingly. "You're welcome to try. But don't underestimate our fighters. They've got skill—and heart."
As if on cue, Marya appeared at the edge of the garden, her short leather jacket billowing and Eternal Night gleaming against the hues of the afternoon sun. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said, calm apology. "I was in the Library with Nao and couldn't escape."
Shanks stood, his grin widening. "No problem. We were just reminiscing about last night. That lantern-lighting ceremony was something else."
Marya's lips curved into a small smile. "It's one of my favorite parts of the festival."
Yasopp nodded with a wide grin. "Yeah, it was amazing. But now it's time for the real show. You and Shanks sparring—this is going to be good."
Master Gaius chuckled. "Just remember, Marya, stay focused. And Shanks—don't go easy on her."
Shanks smirked playfully. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Marya and Shanks stepped onto the expanse of the meticulously maintained training grounds surrounded by ancient wisteria trees that swayed gently in the breeze. Their delicate petals fell like soft rain, embedding a serene beauty into the moment's intensity. Shanks and Marya stood facing each other, a respectable distance apart, both poised and ready for the confrontation that would soon unfold.
With his characteristic devil-may-care grin, his white shirt rippling in the breeze, Shanks flexed his fingers around the hilt of Gryphon. His aura was one of relaxed confidence, but beneath the surface was a coiled spring of raw power and glacial intellect. His fiery red hair was tousled by the wind, and his eyes—sharp and discerning—watched Marya with a mixture of amusement and focus. He was a man who had seen many battles, and each one had sharpened his skills and his resolve.
Marya, on the other hand, was a picture of calm determination. Her long raven hair, tied back in a ponytail, contrasted starkly with her sharp, golden eyes. She held Eternal Night with the ease of one who had trained for countless hours. Her stance was solid, her resolve unyielding. Her presence was a blend of grace and latent power, a testament to her rigorous training and unwavering spirit.
The air between them crackled with anticipation as both combatants activated their Haki. Shanks' Conqueror's Haki spilled out an invisible wave of dominion and strength that caused the very air to tremble. Marya responded in kind, her Armament Haki encasing Eternal Night in a dark, formidable sheen. The ground beneath her feet seemed to pulse with the intensity of her will.
Shanks was the first to move, his body a blur of motion as he lunged forward. Gryphon's edge sliced through the air precisely, aiming straight at Marya's shoulder. She met his attack head-on, Eternal Night ringing against Gryphon with a clash that echoed across the training grounds. Sparks flew from the impact, and both fighters were briefly locked in a contest of strength and resolve.
Marya pivoted gracefully, allowing Shanks' momentum to carry him past her. She spun on her heel, Eternal Night flashing in a swift arc toward his side. Shanks narrowly avoided the strike, his grin widening as he leaped back, gaining a moment's respite. "Not bad," he acknowledged, his voice carrying across the space between them. "But you'll have to do better than that."
His words seemed to ignite a spark within Marya. She advanced with renewed vigor, her strikes swift and specific. But Shanks, ever the seasoned warrior, rebounded with equal ferocity, his movements fluid and unerring. Each clash of their blades reverberated through the air, a testament to their skill and tenacity.
In a moment of tactical ingenuity, Marya decided to harness her feminine Haki, a rare and potent force that she seldom wielded. She channeled her spirit into a subtle but powerful wave, aiming to destabilize Shanks and throw him off balance. The air shimmered slightly with the intensity of her Haki, and for an instant, it seemed as though Shanks' stance wavered.
However, Shanks quickly regained his footing, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and a hint of amusement. He deftly deflected her next blow, and with a swift, calculated maneuver, sent Marya stumbling back. She lost her balance, and in an uncharacteristic lapse, found herself tumbling to the ground, Eternal Night slipping from her grasp.
Shanks paused, his grin fading into a look of genuine inquiry. "What was that?" he asked with surprised intrigue. "I didn't expect that from you, Marya."
Marya chuckled softly with resilient self-deprecation. Her golden eyes sparkled in determined amusement as she accepted Shanks' outstretched hand. "It was the feminine nature of my Haki," she replied lightly, unburdened by the minor setback.
Shanks pulled her to her feet with a firm, gentle grip. "Well, it certainly caught me off guard," he admitted, returning with an admirable grin.
Marya dusted herself off, her chuckle lingering in the air like the wisteria petals around them. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said, retrieving Eternal Night from the ground and readying herself once more. "But clearly, I need more practice."
Shanks' eyes sparkled with both challenge and encouragement as he gazed at Marya. "Ready to go again?" he asked, with genuine curiosity and the thrill of the sparring match. Gryphon was poised, a testament to his eagerness to continue their battle.
Marya's stern expression hardened into one of steely resolve. She squared her shoulders, her golden eyes locking onto Shanks with fierce determination. "Yeah," she declared with a steady, unwavering tone. The weight of her purpose was matched by the firm grip she held on Eternal Night, its blade gleaming ominously in the fading light. She took her stance, every muscle poised for the next round, her spirit undeterred by the earlier fall. The air around them hummed with the anticipation of their renewed clash.
As they collided once more, Marya's resolve seemed to crystallize into raw power. She harnessed the full extent of her feminine Haki, intertwining it seamlessly with her swordplay. Her strikes grew faster and more unpredictable, each one laced with the subtle force that had temporarily unbalanced Shanks before.
Shanks, though experienced and formidable, found himself momentarily on the defensive. Marya's onslaught was relentless, a beautiful yet deadly dance of precision and strength. Eternal Night moved like a shadow, striking with an elegance that belied its lethal intent. Shanks, usually so composed, was forced to parry and evade with increasing urgency.
Seeing a flicker of surprise in Shanks' eyes, Marya pressed her advantage. With a deft maneuver, she feinted to his left, then brought Eternal Night down in a sweeping arc. Shanks barely managed to block the strike, the force of it sending a tremor through his arm. Sensing victory within reach, Marya pushed forward, her strikes becoming a blur of motion.
But Shanks was not one to be easily bested. Drawing upon his vast reservoir of experience and tactical genius, he began to anticipate Marya's moves, his movements becoming more fluid and calculated. With each passing moment, he adapted to her rhythm, regaining his footing with a tenacity that matched her own.
In a decisive moment, Marya attempted another powerful strike, aiming to disarm Shanks. However, Shanks saw through her intent. With a swift, almost imperceptible shift, he sidestepped her attack and countered with a precise thrust of Gryphon. The clash of steel echoed through the air as his blade met hers, but this time, it was Shanks who had the upper hand.
With a series of rapid, calculated strikes, Shanks turned the tide of the battle. His movements were a masterclass in swordsmanship, each one executed with impeccable precision. Marya, despite her best efforts, found herself gradually losing ground, her earlier advantage slipping away.
In the final moments of their duel, Shanks executed a flawless disarming move, sending Eternal Night flying from Marya's grasp. He followed through with a swift, controlled strike that stopped mere inches from her throat. The battle was over.
For a moment, then, Shanks lowered Gryphon, his eyes filled with genuine respect and admiration. "You're impressive," he said sincerely. But remember, even the best warriors have more to learn."
Marya, though breathless and slightly bruised, smiled with determined pride. "I'll take that as another compliment," she replied, retrieving Eternal Night. "And next time, I won't fall short."
Shanks grinned, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "I'll be looking forward to it."
Aurélie approached the matted entrance of the Dojo, where she sat, crossing her legs over the edge. She joined Yasopp and Master Gaius, already watching the intense duel between Shanks and Marya. The clang of swords and the fluidity of movement held a mesmerizing quality, reflecting the high stakes of the sparring match.
Aurélie, her curiosity piqued, glanced at Yasopp with a raised brow. "What has transpired?" Her voice was a gentle whisper that carried an undercurrent of intrigue.
Yasopp, without taking his eyes off the fight, replied with a hint of admiration, "Marya has been pushing Shanks. Her Haki and swordplay have been extraordinary."
Master Gaius nodded in agreement, his face a mask of contemplation. "Indeed, she has shown remarkable growth. But Shanks' experience and tactical brilliance are beginning to turn the tide."
Aurélie watched as the two combatants moved with a grace that belied the ferocity of their strikes. The air was thick with anticipation, each clash of steel echoing the silent determination of their wills. She felt a surge of pride for Marya's prowess, yet a deep respect for Shanks' unwavering composure.
As the duel reached its climactic conclusion, Aurélie felt a wave of inspiration wash over her. The intensity and grace of the sparring match, the unspoken respect between Shanks and Marya, stirred something deep within her. With a newfound sense of purpose, she reached for and retrieved a pen and her weathered notebook.
Settling into her spot, she flipped open the notebook to a fresh page. Her pen hovered for a moment, capturing the essence of the scene before her. The rhythmic clash of swords, the resilience of Marya, the composed prowess of Shanks—all these elements intertwined in her mind, forming the seeds of a poetic expression.
With deliberate strokes, she began to write, her words flowing effortlessly from her heart to the page. Each line encapsulated the essence of the duel, the blend of strength and vulnerability, the dance of blades reflecting the dance of life itself. The poem took shape, a testament to the beauty of combat and the indomitable spirit of those who engage in it.
Aurélie wrote with fervor, the verses capturing her emotions, her admiration, and the inspiration drawn from witnessing the duel. The gentle scratch of her pen on paper was a stark contrast to the clanging of swords, yet it held its own power, etching a timeless tribute to the moment:
Swords clash in rhythmic dance,
In the Dojo, they take their chance.
Shanks and Marya, fierce and bright,
Their spirits locked in mortal fight.
Haki strong, blades so keen,
A battle fierce, a sight serene.
In the heat of combat's glare,
Strength and grace beyond compare.
Shanks' composure, Marya's might,
A duel that stretches through the night.
Each strike, a story, each parry, a tale,
In their struggle, none shall fail.
The sparks of steel, the cries of will,
In every move, a skilled thrill.
Yet through the fight, a bond is made,
Respect in every strike displayed.
The clash of swords, a dance of life,
In every swing, the end of strife.
With every move, they write their lore,
In the Dojo forevermore.
*****
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Red Force as the search party returned. The crew's earlier determination had turned to grim resolve while they climbed aboard, their faces etched with concern.
"Benn," Snake said, his low voice carrying an edge of urgency. "We found something."
Benn stepped down from the helm, his presence commanding the attention of the crew. "What is it?"
Snake held up the button he had found, its frayed edges catching the dim light. "This is Hongo's. We found it in an alley near the market. There were signs of a struggle—overturned crates, scuff marks, and a bit of blood on the ground."
Lucky Roux, spoke around mouthfuls of meat. "It looks like he was ambushed. Whoever took him didn't leave much of a trail, but we know they're still in the area. Probably hiding him somewhere in the port."
Benn's jaw tightened, lighting a cigarette, while his mind raced through the possibilities. "Did anyone see anything? Any witnesses?"
Snake's ashen mane waved as he shook his head. "The townsfolk are tight-lipped. Either they're scared, or they're involved. But we did hear rumors about a group of pirates working with the World Government. They've been moving people—slaves—through the port. Hongo might've stumbled onto something he wasn't supposed to see."
Blowing out a puff of smoke, Benn's face darkened, his eyes glinting angrily. "Slavers. And the World Government's involved?" He clenched his fists, his calm demeanor cracking for just a moment. "This is worse than we thought."
The crew murmured among themselves, their worry for Hongo mingling with their growing anger. Benn raised a hand, silencing them. "We're not leaving without him. But we need to be smart about this. If the World Government's involved, we're walking into a hornet's nest."
Lucky Roux swallowed, "So what's the plan, Benn? We can't just sit here while Hongo's in trouble."
Benn ran fingers through his dark hair, inspecting the crew, his mind working quickly. "We'll split into teams. Snake, you take a group and scout the port. Find out where they're keeping him. Lucky, you and a few others gather supplies and weapons. We'll need to be ready for a fight. The rest of you, stay here and keep the ship ready to move at a moment's notice."
Benn's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "We'll find Hongo." A stream of smoke spiraled around him. "And when we do, we'll make sure these slavers regret the day they crossed us."
As the crew sprang into action, Benn stood at the helm, fixed on the port town. The shadows of the buildings seemed to stretch toward the ship, but Benn's resolve was unshakable. Hongo was out there somewhere, and they would find him—no matter what it took.
*****
The festival was in full swing, lights twinkling like stars in the night sky, music resonating in the air, and laughter rolling through the streets. It was the second night, and the town was alive with energy and excitement.
As Jax wandered through the colorful stalls, he felt a sense of purpose pushing him forward. He knew Marya had a habit of visiting the shrine at the edge of town during festivals. It was a place of peace amidst the chaos, a sanctuary where she collected her thoughts. Determined but nervous, Jax made his way towards the shrine, weaving through the jubilant crowd.
In the distance, he spotted Marya walking with measured grace, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She seemed lost in thoughts as she stepped lightly. Jax quickened his pace, his heart beating faster with each step. This was his moment. His heart skipped a beat. He suddenly felt vulnerable. He wanted to confess his feelings but feared they would not be reciprocated.
Marya paused near a small fountain, the flickering lanterns casting a soft glow on her face. Jax took a deep breath and approached her, his resolve hardening. Just as he was about to call her name, Marya turned, her golden eyes meeting his with surprise and curiosity. For a moment, the noise of the festival faded into the background. Jax's heart pounded in his chest, and he felt his palms grow clammy. This was his chance.
"Jax," Marya said with a curious head tilt, "I didn't expect to see you here."
Jax cleared his throat, struggling to keep his composure. "Marya, I... I wanted to talk to you."
Marya raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "About what?"
Jax opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His confidence was shaken in this moment; he felt like a boy again, unsure and nervous. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just... I mean, with everything going on, I... Well, I wanted to tell you that... I... I admire your strength and your skills."
Marya smiled a rare but genuine expression. "Thank you, Jax. That means a lot coming from you."
Jax felt a rush of relief, but also frustration. This wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her how he felt and how much he cared for her. But his fear of rejection held him back. He managed a small smile. "Enjoy the festival, Marya."
"You too, Jax," Marya replied, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before she turned and disappeared toward the Shrine's steps.
Jax watched her go, his heart heavy. He would find the right moment, the right words and he would wait for the day when he could finally confess his feelings to Marya. As Jax stood there, grappling with his unspoken words, he suddenly heard a boisterous voice calling out from behind. Turning around, he saw Riggs, his katana swinging haphazardly at his side.
"Hey Jax!" Riggs shouted, with a meat skewer in one hand and a wide grin plastered on his face. "Have you tried the roasted boar yet? It's amazing!"
Jax couldn't help but smile at Riggs's enthusiasm. "No, I haven't," Jax replied, momentarily distracted from his earlier disappointment.
"You've got to try it!" Riggs insisted, around mouthfuls of food and with a gleam in his eye. "It's the best thing at the festival. Trust me, you won't regret it."
Jax nodded, appreciating the brief respite from his heavy thoughts. "Sure, Riggs. Let's go check it out."
As they walked through the bustling festival together, Jax couldn't shake the lingering image of Marya's golden eyes and the unresolved feelings in his heart.