The islands of the Grand Line each correspond to spring, summer, fall, and winter, and each type has four seasons, meaning that there are technically sixteen seasons in all. Summer on a summer island is the hottest, and winter on a winter island is the coldest. Spring on a spring island has the greatest blooming of life, and fall on a fall island boasts the most brilliant colors of all. The Red Line is, in fact, just a great amalgamation of all of these seasonal islands. The season will change depending on which island you visit, regardless of latitude.
Flying over the cave on this winter island was the Jolly Roger of a skull with three slashes—the symbol of the Red-Haired Pirates.
“It’s a warm one today.”
“Sleet outside. That’s rare.”
If it was warm enough to melt the snow falling on this winter island, the day was warm, indeed. The red-haired captain was the one who made the observation, and it was his first mate, Benn Beckman, who answered about the sleet.
“Days like this are usually when bad stuff happens… Munch, gulp.”
“C’mon, don’t start talkin’ like that. You’re usually right on the money about these hunches,” said a man with dreadlocks, responding to the round-faced Lucky Roux, who chomped down on a huge hunk of meat on the bone like it was a little snack.
People often imagined the Four Emperors living in palatial estates with every possible luxury at their disposal. Some were like that, of course. Charlotte Linlin, the leader of the Big Mom Pirates, was a crafty old pirate whose family consisted of forty-three husbands, forty-six sons, and thirty-nine daughters. All hundred-and-twenty-nine of them and their spouses ruled over a stretch of sea called Totto Land, and Big Mom herself lived on Whole Cake Island with all the sweets she could ever want to eat.
But Shanks traveled on a diminutive dragon-headed ship called the Red Force with a small, elite crew, moving from place to place.
It was time to prepare for the evening meal. When the pirate feast was starting, with the serving of food they’d procured in the day’s hunt, things suddenly got much noisier outside the cave. The fire that the crew was sitting around abruptly blazed much higher, as though they’d stoked the logs.
“Well, well. Sorry for interrupting your party. I was lured here by a delicious smell.”
It was a young man. He wore a cape around his shoulders and shorts around his waist. Could he really have come all the way to the cave in the midst of so much snow? And somehow, there wasn’t a single flake of snow on his body.
“Were you the one making all that noise?”
The Red-Haired officers all remained seated, as though they had already known someone was coming.
I know that guy. He’s Fire Fist…the one who spurned the Seven Warlords.
“Sorry, Chief… He just showed up and said he wanted to pay his respects,” said their lookout, a new guy, as he rushed into the cave a few moments later.
“Pay respects…to me?” Shanks fed another log into the fire.
It flickered momentarily—then returned to its previous strength.
Haki.
It was a threat. But the young man took it head-on. He wasn’t so weak that this would be enough to knock him over.
“No, I don’t mean it that way!” said the young man, Fire Fist Ace. “It’s just an introduction. Pardon me, sir, I just want to introduce myself. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” said Ace all of a sudden. He extended his hand, palm upward, in a sign of respect.
Shanks tilted his head in confusion at this unexpected act. He looked to his other officers. They were either frowning, or laughing, or watching with entertained looks on their faces.
“In that case…I return your greeting,” said Shanks. He, too, extended an upward palm. This was a formal exchange in the underworld, an indication that each side would remain humble toward the other, without trickery.
It was part of the old ways, the pirate code derived from the traditions of gamblers and yakuza and the like. But it was very old-fashioned, indeed. You didn’t see many observe these formalities anymore.
“I am…uhh…I am of birth of Baterilla, South Blue. I was raised in the East Blue. My name is Ace. Though I am newly started on this path in life, I am known as Fire Fist by the world at large. My humble bounty is…uh…how much is it, again?”
“The hell should I know?”
“This guy can barely get his words out straight,” teased the others around the fire.
“For I am such a simple country boy, I may have committed some errors of the tongue. I pleadificate for your generous forgivication… All right, boys, time to introduce the man of the hour.”
“Are you talking to your crew? Where are they?” Benn Beckman asked.
Ace spun around. There were no other members of the Spade Pirates with him.
“Oh…right. It’s just me. I didn’t want to bother you with the whole gang,” he said.
“You got a lot of nerve, you know that?”
“So what’s this little show all about, huh?” asked Shanks, looking at Ace with the little smirk he so often wore. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword. Any uninvited guest who caused trouble here was likely to get himself sliced in two.
Ace thought it over, then scratched his head, deciding that it wasn’t going to work after all. “Dangit. I practiced it exactly the way Makino showed me. I’m just not that good at this stuff.”
“Makino?” The officers and Shanks wore puzzled looks.
Ace reached for his bag and pulled something out.
“A bottle?”
“This is a fine libation from the East Blue, where I grew up. Makino told me that this is how pirates offer a proper greeting.”
Shanks reached out and accepted the large jug of alcohol from Ace. He pulled out the cork and took a whiff.
“Ahh, that’s a familiar scent! Brings back memories of distant grog!”
The pirates excitedly began to pass around the jugs and take swigs from it. The fact that they drank seemed to be a sign that they weren’t going to slice him up right away, at least.
“Did you know that I spent some time in the East Blue years ago?”
“Yes, I heard. I lived near Windmill Village. Do you know Mt. Corvo? I was raised by some bandits who lived there.”
“Windmill Village? Well, that takes me back. How’s the mayor doing? So this booze is from Makino, eh?”
“No, actually. I bought it from a liquor store in Roguetown before I got into the Grand Line.”
“So I just did all that reminiscing for nothing?”
“Well, I did get some from Makino when I first set sail. But then I shipwrecked and washed up on a deserted island. You know, stuff happens.”
“You mean stuff that’s so stereotypical for rookie pirates that it never actually happens?” snapped one of the crewmates.
“I’m getting embarrassed for him just listening to this,” joked another, recalling his own youth.
“Well, if Makino’s doing well, that’s all that matters.”
“I bet she’s grown into a fine woman by now, eh, Captain?”
“I’d like to see that.”
The Red-Haired Pirates began to discuss their fond memories of Windmill Village among themselves, so Ace continued, “Anyway…my little brother says you saved his life, and all he does is talk about you, so I wanted to meet you and give my thanks.”
“Brother?”
“His name’s Luffy.”
Everyone gave him a look that said, Why didn’t you tell us that first?!
“You’re Luffy’s?! So he had a brother?! Welcome, welcome! C’mon, sit down and tell me how he’s doing!”
Shanks clapped Ace on the shoulder and beckoned him to join the circle around the fire.
Time to party!