Red-Haired Boss, Are We A Bit Shabby? (1/5)

"Boss, I have to say... our crew hardly acts like pirates anymore," one of the pirates remarked with a sly grin.

"Haha! If the other Four Emperors knew we were playing delivery service for villagers, Da Ya would laugh us right out of the seas!" another pirate chortled.

"Ah, but the boss wants a bride, right? Gotta butter up the locals somehow!"

"Yeah, think of it as us paying a dowry," another added, bursting into laughter.

The deck of the ship was alive with the raucous laughter of pirates, their spirits high. Yet, at the front, a one-armed man stood, his long red hair blowing in the wind, a sword resting easily in his remaining hand.

This was the infamous red-haired Shanks, one of the Four Emperors of the sea.

Ever since he first stumbled upon this small village years ago and laid eyes on Makino, he couldn't forget her. But the village head, Slap, a stern old man of Windmill Village, was adamantly against pirates, urging the villagers to steer clear of them.

It had taken Shanks years to chip away at the villagers' distrust. He'd returned countless times, laden with gifts, hoping to win their favor—and ultimately, Makino's heart.

"Larucci, are we all set?" Shanks called out without turning.

"Aye, boss! We've got plenty of loot this time! Even swiped some top-tier wines from those rich merchants. That old man Slap loves his drink; we might finally get him on our side!" Larucci replied, glancing at the bustling crew. "Alright, you lot! Stack those crates neatly, and remember—no scaring the villagers! Smile, damn it! We're supposed to be the friendly kind of pirates today!"

"Aye, aye, Captain! We're as sweet as kittens!" The crew's laughter rang out once more.

But their mirth was cut short as Yasopp, the sharpshooter, squinted toward the horizon. "Boss, there's a warship at the port!"

Shanks' eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Could it be Garp?"

Benn Beckman, Shanks' right-hand man, joined him at the railing, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Looks like it. If anyone's coming to Windmill Village, it's that old Marine hero. What's the plan, boss? Do we keep going?"

Shanks pondered for a moment, his brow furrowed. "We dock. Garp's a man of his own principles. We've brought supplies for the villagers; he won't make a fuss over it. Besides, he wouldn't start a fight here, not in his hometown."

"So, we proceed as planned?" Yasopp teased with a smirk.

Shanks responded with a swift kick to Yasopp's rear. "Yes, as planned! And get those nine hundred and ninety-nine roses ready. We're sealing this with some style!"

The pirate ship inched closer to the port, and the villagers, initially tense, relaxed as they recognized the Red Hair Pirates' flag.

But something was amiss.

"Uh, boss...?" Benn Beckman pointed to the pier. There, an automatic lift from the warship was unloading crates—an overwhelming amount of them.

The docks were piled high with supplies, so much so that villagers were making multiple trips to haul it all home, sweating but beaming with joy.

Larucci, still munching on a piece of roasted pig, froze, his eyes bulging as he compared their meager offerings to the mountains of goods being unloaded. "What the... Boss, we're outdone! It's like our stuff is a drop in the ocean compared to that!"

Benn Beckman sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, boss... we look pretty stingy right about now."

Shanks wiped the sweat beading on his forehead. He'd robbed plenty of merchant ships, thinking the spoils would be enough to win over the villagers. But in the face of such lavish gifts from the Marines, his grand gesture seemed... pitiful.

"Damn it," Shanks muttered under his breath, frustration mounting. "Who's behind this? What kind of deep pockets are we up against?"

Just then, Yasopp ran back, grinning, with two massive flower baskets in tow. "Boss! The roses are ready—nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em, just like you asked. But... what's with the long faces?"

Benn Beckman simply pointed.

Yasopp turned and his jaw dropped. "What the hell?! Where did all that come from?"

The Red Hair Pirates were at a loss, their confident smiles fading as reality hit them.

Boom!

The pirate ship finally docked. Shanks' scowl deepened, his pride wounded. Yasopp leaned in, whispering, "So, boss... are we still unloading our stuff?"

"Do it," Shanks growled. "But it's pathetic compared to that. Move quickly, and don't make a scene."

As the pirates scrambled, there was a sudden hush. All eyes turned to the port, where a figure emerged from the throng.

It was Finn—Garp's grandson—carrying none other than Makino in his arms, her cheeks flushed with joy as they approached.

The sight was a knife to Shanks' heart. His crew felt the tension, holding their breath as they watched their leader's face darken like a brewing storm.

Crunch!

Shanks' lone hand clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as he fought to control his rage.

"Follow me…" he ordered, his voice dangerously calm.

Without another word, he leapt off the deck, striding toward the pair, his crew trailing behind like shadows.

A showdown was brewing on the quiet shores of Windmill Village, and everyone knew—the red-haired emperor was not one to be crossed.