The journey from the ruins of Uzushio to the borders of the Land of Water took three days.
Usually, a sea voyage with me involved singing off-key sea shanties, fishing for sharks with a piece of string, and trying to convince Zabuza to wear a funny hat.
Not this time.
For three days, The Red Potato was silent.
I sat on the quarterdeck, staring at the horizon. I wasn't wearing my usual white shirt and patterned pants. I had raided Zabuza's spare gear—which wasn't much—and found a long, heavy black cloak. It was tattered at the hem and smelled of old rain, but it fit the mood.
I draped it over my shoulders, not putting my arm through the sleeves. It hung on me like a shadow.
The sun beat down, but I didn't take it off. The wind howled, but I didn't button it.
"He hasn't eaten," Dr. Bushy Brow whispered loudly to Zabuza near the mast. "He has not consumed a single nutrient in seventy-two hours! His muscle mass will atrophy! His youthful vigor is dimming!"
"Leave him alone," Zabuza muttered, sharpening his sword for the hundredth time. "He's... processing."
"Processing what? Grief? Indigestion?"
"Anger," Zabuza said. "The quiet kind. The kind that sinks ships."
I heard them, of course. My Observation Haki was expanded to its maximum range, a constant, invisible sphere of awareness stretching miles around the ship. I could feel every fish, every wave, every shift in the wind.
But I didn't respond.
The ruins of Uzushio were burned into my mind. The echoes of the children screaming. The sheer waste of it all.
In my old life—the one where I was a salaryman named Dave—I read about tragedies in history books. They were abstract. Numbers on a page.
In this life, with these heightened senses, tragedy wasn't abstract. It was a physical weight. I could taste the fear that had saturated the soil of that island.
And the Mist Village... they had led the charge. They had murdered an entire clan out of paranoia.
And now, according to Zabuza, they were doing it to their own people. The Blood Mist. Killing graduates. Hunting bloodlines. It was a factory of misery.
I gripped Gryphon. The leather of the hilt creaked.
I'm not a hero, I told myself. I'm a pirate. Pirates plunder. Pirates kill. We aren't the Marines.
But even pirates had a code. And my code—Shanks' code—didn't abide by slaughtering the defenseless.
"Land ho," Zabuza said softly.
I stood up. The black cloak billowed around me.
Ahead, a wall of fog rose from the ocean like a cliff. It was unnatural. It wasn't weather; it was a barrier.
"Kirigakure," Zabuza said, joining me at the rail. "Inside that fog is a maze of islands, checkpoints, and Hunter-Nin. We won't be able to sail The Red Potato in without being spotted."
"We aren't sneaking in," I said.
My voice was raspy from disuse. It sounded like grinding stones.
"Captain?" Zabuza looked at me warily.
"We're sailing straight to the main port," I said. "Port Mizu."
"That is suicide," Zabuza said flatly. "They have coastal batteries. They have sensors."
"Doc," I said, ignoring Zabuza. "Take the helm."
"AYE CAPTAIN!" The Doctor saluted, though he looked worried. He grabbed the wheel.
"Zabuza. Get your sword ready."
"It's always ready. But Captain... if we go in the front door, we fight the entire village."
I turned my head slowly to look at him. My eyes were shadowed by my red bangs. There was no spark of light in them. Just a dull, flat red.
"Good," I said.
Zabuza swallowed. He had faced Kages. He had faced Tailed Beasts. But this... this version of me terrified him.
The Barrier
We hit the fog bank.
Visibility dropped to zero instantly. It was cold, damp, and silent.
"Stop the ship," I ordered.
The Doctor threw the anchor. The ship jerked to a halt.
I walked to the bow. I looked out into the white nothingness.
"They're watching," Zabuza whispered. "The sensor division knows we're here."
"I know."
I took a deep breath. I filled my lungs with the moist, chakra-laden air.
Then, I released it.
I didn't scream. I didn't shout. I just... pushed.
I pushed my Willpower out. Not a blast, but a steady, expanding dome of Conqueror's Haki.
It hit the fog.
The mist didn't just blow away. It recoiled. It was as if the chakra in the air was afraid to touch me.
A massive tunnel, fifty meters wide, cleared through the fog bank. It stretched all the way to the visible coastline three miles away.
The sun poured into the tunnel, illuminating our path.
"Drive," I said.
The Doctor, trembling, steered the ship down the tunnel of clear air I had carved through the barrier.
On either side of us, the walls of mist swirled violently, but they dared not close the gap.
Port Mizu
We sailed into the harbor.
It was heavily fortified. Stone walls, watchtowers, and hundreds of ninja. They were scrambling. They had seen the fog part. They knew something monstrous was coming.
"Halt!" a voice amplified by jutsu boomed from the walls. "Identify yourselves!"
I stood on the bowsprit. The black cloak flared in the wind.
"I am Shanks," I said. My voice wasn't amplified, but it carried perfectly to every ear in the harbor.
"I am looking for the Mizukage."
"Fire!" the commander on the wall screamed.
Dozens of kunai with exploding tags flew at us. Arrows. Water bullets. It was a rain of death.
"Captain!" Zabuza yelled, stepping forward to block.
"Stay back," I ordered.
I didn't draw my sword. I just glared.
I looked at the incoming projectiles.
Drop.
The Haki pulse was precise. It hit the kunai. It hit the arrows. It hit the water bullets.
The killing intent imbued in the attacks was crushed by my superior intent. The physical objects lost their momentum as the air around them became as thick as syrup.
They fell harmlessly into the water, ten yards short of the ship.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
Silence fell over the harbor.
"He... stopped them," a ninja whispered on the wall. "With a look?"
I jumped.
I used Geppo—Moon Walk.
I kicked the air, launching myself high above the harbor. I soared over the water, over the walls, and landed on the highest watchtower.
I landed softly, the black cloak settling around me.
I was surrounded by twenty Kirigakure ANBU. They had swords drawn. They were shaking.
"Where is he?" I asked calmly.
"The... The Mizukage?" the squad leader stammered. "He is in the village center! You will not pass!"
"I'm not asking for permission," I said.
I walked forward.
The ANBU attacked.
It was a slaughter, but a bloodless one.
I moved through them like smoke.
A sword swing? I leaned back.
A kick? I caught it with one finger.
A water jutsu? I side-stepped.
And for every attack, I delivered one counter.
A chop to the neck. A knee to the gut. A flick to the forehead.
Thud. Thud. Crack. Thud.
In ten seconds, the twenty elite guards were unconscious on the floor of the tower.
I stood alone on the parapet, looking down at the village of Kirigakure. It was grim. Gray buildings, wet streets, an atmosphere of oppression.
Zabuza and the Doctor landed behind me. Zabuza had carried the Doctor up the wall.
"You left the ship," Zabuza noted.
"It's a distraction," I said. "We're walking to the Kage's mansion."
"Walking?" Zabuza hissed. "Through the main street?"
"Yes."
I jumped down to the street level. My sandals slapped the wet cobblestones.
I began to walk.
Zabuza and the Doctor flanked me.
Ninja poured out of the alleyways. Hundreds of them. The entire garrison was mobilizing.
But they didn't attack.
They formed a circle around us, moving with us, weapons drawn but held back.
Why?
Because of the Haki.
I wasn't knocking them out. I was projecting an aura of Do Not Touch Me. It was a primal warning. It told their lizard brains that if they stepped within five feet of me, they would die.
It was the walk of a King.
I walked with my head high, my face impassive. The black cloak trailed behind me like a royal train.
"Make way," I whispered.
The circle of ninja parted. They stumbled back, tripping over themselves to get out of my path.
We walked through the market. We walked through the residential district. Civilians peeked out of windows, eyes wide with terror and awe.
"Who is he?"
"The Red Ghost."
"Even the Demon Zabuza is following him."
We reached the steps of the Mizukage's mansion. A massive, circular building shrouded in mist.
Standing at the top of the stairs was a small figure. A child, holding a large green staff with a hook on the end.
Yagura. The Fourth Mizukage. The Three-Tails Jinchuriki.
And behind him, a woman with long auburn hair and a beautiful, deadly smile. Mei Terumi.
"That's far enough," Yagura said. His voice was monotone. His eyes were glazed, reflecting a strange pink light deep within.
"Yagura," Zabuza growled, his hand twitching toward his sword. "The tyrant."
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
I looked up at the child leader.
"I have questions," I said.
"Invaders have no rights to questions," Yagura said. "You will die here."
Yagura tapped his staff. The mist around the mansion darkened. It turned purple. Poison.
"That's acid mist," the Doctor warned, pulling out a mask. "Don't breathe it!"
I ignored the mask.
I looked at Yagura. I looked at his eyes.
Observation Haki.
I dove deep. I looked past the physical. I looked at the chakra network. And then, I looked at the mind.
I saw it.
A Genjutsu. A web of intricate, red chakra strings wrapping around Yagura's brain. And the signature of that chakra... it felt familiar. It felt like the eye Kakashi had.
Sharingan.
"He's being controlled," I said loudly.
The woman, Mei Terumi, froze. "What did you say?"
"The kid," I pointed at the Mizukage. "He's a puppet. Someone is pulling his strings. Someone with red eyes."
Yagura flinched. The Genjutsu fought back. "Lies! I am the Mizukage! Attack him!"
Yagura leaped. He transformed mid-air.
Red chakra bubbled. He went straight to Version 2. A miniature Three-Tailed turtle monster made of dense chakra slammed down toward me.
"Captain!" Zabuza yelled.
I didn't draw Gryphon.
I raised my right hand.
I coated it in Advanced Armament Haki—Ryou. The invisible armor that flows outward.
I caught the Mizukage.
I caught the charging Tailed Beast by the face with one hand.
BOOM.
The impact cracked the stairs. The shockwave shattered the windows of the mansion.
But I didn't budge. I held the chakra monster in place. My Haki burned against the corrosive chakra, neutralizing it.
I leaned in close to the beast's face.
"Wake up," I ordered.
I pulsed Conqueror's Haki directly into Yagura's mind. I aimed it like a needle, piercing through the layers of manipulation, hunting for the Genjutsu caster's hold.
SNAP.
I felt a psychic string break. Somewhere, far away in the dark, a masked man with a swirl pattern on his face flinched and grabbed his eye.
Yagura screamed. The chakra cloak dissipated.
He fell back onto the stairs, panting, reverting to his human form. His eyes cleared. The pink glaze vanished.
He looked around, confused. "Where... where am I?"
I lowered my hand. The black cloak settled.
Mei Terumi stared at me. She stared at Yagura.
" The Genjutsu..." Mei whispered. "It's broken."
I looked at her. For the first time in three days, the corner of my mouth twitched upward. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a tired one.
"You're welcome," I said.
Then, the exhaustion hit me. Not physical, but mental. Breaking a Kage-level Genjutsu with pure Willpower was taxing.
I sat down on the stairs.
"Zabuza," I said. "Do we have any sake left?"
"No, Captain. You poured it on the ground at Uzushio."
"Right," I sighed. "Mei Terumi, was it?"
I looked up at the stunned woman.
"I just saved your village. I accept payment in booze and history books."
The square was silent. The invading pirate sat on the steps of the leader's house, asking for a drink, while the leader lay confused at his feet.
It was chaos.
It was perfect.
"Who are you?" Mei asked, her voice trembling.
I pulled the black cloak tighter around myself.
"I'm Shanks," I said. "And I'm here to fix a few things."