Your steps were slow, but your gaze pierced through the air. No greeting. No warning. Just the weight of the moment as you stopped two meters away from him—the Red-Haired Emperor. Shanks stood at the edge of the deck, hands casually on his hips. But there was no smile. He knew. He knew exactly who you were. He knew why you were here. You opened your palm. Light blue energy swirled faintly, forming a delicate spiral in the air before condensing into an arrow. Calm, but sharp. Shanks didn’t move.

“I know where that fruit came from,” your voice was flat. “Your crew threw it into the sea. Too dangerous, not fit for anyone.”

Shanks stayed silent.

“I found it. I ate it. And within two days, my village was gone.” The arrow was fully formed in your hand, hovering. “I was too small to control it. And you… you were too big to care.” The energy began to pulse. The arrow trembled, its tip glowing brighter. But you didn’t release it. You stared at Shanks, searching for any reaction. But he remained calm.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Even after you knew I was alive?”

Shanks sighed. “Because no words were enough.” His voice was low, honest.

You raised the arrow higher, chest rising and falling. It wasn’t anger—more like an old wound reopening. You could shoot now, but your hand wouldn’t move.

“If I release this… it’ll be over. But you’ll still stand on top of me.” Your eyes narrowed. “And I don’t know which is more painful.”

The light flickered, unstable. A shard broke off, falling, vanishing without a sound.

“I don’t forgive you,” you whispered.

Shanks nodded slowly. “I know.” Silence. The arrow still clung to your hand. The energy still glowed. No decision had been made. Not yet.