One Piece: Surrounded at Marineford? Just kidding!

Chapter 300: A Touch Across Time and Space!

Ben Beckman's "outlandish conjecture" was still echoing in the minds of everyone in the Red-Haired Pirates.

Just then, the mysterious woman being supported by the Whitebeard Pirates' nurse moved.

She turned her head sharply.

Those eyes, which had been unfocused and confused, froze the moment they swept across the crowd.

His gaze swept over the crowd and past the flickering flames, fixing precisely on the red-haired man in the center of the crowd, who had lost an arm.

A sudden flush of color rose on her paper-white face.

She gently pushed away the nurse who was supporting her.

The nurse tried to go forward again, but Marco stopped her with a look.

The woman's chest heaved violently as she took a step.

Her steps were unsteady and swaying.

A slightly stronger sea breeze could blow her over.

But her eyes were fixed on Shanks, and she couldn't see anything else.

She walked forward step by step.

The surrounding pirates, whether whispering or staring in disbelief, instinctively retreated to both sides.

The crowd parted to make way.

A straight road leading to Shanks.

This road spans decades.

Shanks stood still.

He watched as the woman slowly approached.

ten meters.

five meters.

three meters.

The closer the distance, the stronger the sense of intimacy that surges from the depths of one's blood.

That's so weird.

It felt both strange and familiar.

It was as if something long forgotten had been dug up from the wasteland of his memory and presented to him.

"Well……"

A very soft gasp.

The woman was so emotional that her legs gave way and she tripped over a rock.

Her frail body lost its balance and she fell straight forward.

"Be careful!"

Yasopp and Raki Lu shouted.

But a shadow was faster than them.

Swish!

Only a fleeting shadow remained in the air.

At this moment, speed at the level of the Four Emperors erupted.

A single arm caught the woman just before she fell onto the beach.

Shanks moved incredibly lightly, as if afraid that the slightest force would shatter her.

He used his only remaining right arm to wrap around her waist, and gently straightened her up with the momentum.

The two were standing very close together.

Close at hand.

A very faint fragrance wafted into Shanks' nose.

It's a flavor that's hard to describe.

It's like a thoroughly dried cotton quilt, or like the fragrance of a long-extinct flower.

Upon smelling this aroma, Shanks' nerves, which had been taut for decades, inexplicably relaxed.

Like a wrecked ship that has drifted for half its life, it has finally returned to port.

Shanks looked down at the person in his arms.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he opened his mouth, his voice dry as if he had swallowed a handful of sand, trembling without him even realizing it.

"Are you... alright? You didn't fall, did you, young lady?"

Shanks was oblivious to how stupid he was talking; his attention was entirely on the woman in front of him.

The woman used his arm to steady herself, and instead of backing away, she raised her head.

Eyes facing each other.

In the firelight, two pairs of eyes, seemingly cut from the same mold, collided in the air.

The woman's eyes were filled with tears, so clear it was heartbreaking, reflecting Shanks' stubble-covered face.

As Shanks looked at that face, his heart pounded uncontrollably, thump, thump, thump, like a drumbeat.

so similar.

It's so similar.

Not like him now, but like the image that occasionally pops into his mind when he looks in the mirror: what if he were a woman.

And that look in his eyes.

Shanks has seen countless eyes.

Greed, fear, worship, hatred, hypocrisy.

But he had never seen that look in his eyes before.

Tolerance, heartache, guilt, joy, sorrow... countless emotions were crushed, leaving only pure love in the end.

That look in his eyes both frightened him and made him want to get closer.

"This... young lady," Shanks swallowed hard, trying to mask his panic with his usual flippant tone, but failed; his voice sounded terribly stupid. "You look familiar. Haven't we met somewhere before?"

Is he really that stupid, boss?

In the distance, Yasopp covered his face.

The woman did not answer.

Her lips trembled, as if she wanted to say something, but the sob in her throat prevented her from speaking.

She reached out her hand tremblingly.

That hand was pale, slender, and the skin was as tender as a young girl's; the fingertips were slightly white from the cold.

She slowly, tentatively, reached out towards Shanks' face.

As one of the Four Emperors, his body will retaliate before any stranger tries to touch his vital points.

This is an ironclad rule ingrained in our very being.

But at the moment.

The hand passed through his safe distance without any obstruction.

Shanks stood motionless like a child being punished, even subconsciously lowering his head slightly to meet the hand.

He let that cold hand touch his rough face.

When their fingertips touched their skin, they both trembled slightly.

The woman's fingers traced his hard chin, across the fine lines created by the sea breeze, and finally stopped at the three hideous scars under his left eye.

Traces left by black beard.

His lifelong warning.

The woman gently stroked the three scars with her fingers, her fingertips trembling, and tears finally fell.

Tears slid down his pale face and dripped onto the back of Shanks' hand.

It was so hot that he shivered.

"Does it hurt?"

The woman finally spoke, her voice hoarse and broken, yet tender enough to melt hearts.

Shanks was stunned.

Over the years, some people have asked him who left the scar, some have asked him what the scar represents, and some have laughed at him, saying it's a disgrace.

No one ever asked him if he was in pain.

"No...it doesn't hurt anymore," Shanks answered instinctively, his voice as soft as if in a dream, "It's all better now."

The woman, with tears in her eyes, forced a smile that was even more unsightly than crying.

Her gaze greedily traced Shanks' features, as if she wanted to make up for the thirty-eight years of absence in a single glance.

"Are you called... Shanks?"

She asked softly, with a cautious tone of confirmation.

Shanks nodded, his voice terribly hoarse.

"Yes, my name is Shanks. Everyone calls me Redhead. And you are...?"

The answer was right on his lips, yet it weighed so heavily on his mind that he dared not touch it.

The woman looked at the man in front of her, who was taller and stronger than her, but whose body was disabled.

She could no longer control herself.

Longing accumulated over a long time, a mother's love that transcends life and death.

She suddenly took a step forward, opened her arms, and hugged him tightly.

Her head could only be buried in Shanks' chest, and her arms couldn't even fully embrace his broad back.

But she held on so tightly, with all her might, as if if she let go, the person in front of her would shatter.

"Shanks..."

She cried out, her cries heart-wrenching, yet filled with the ecstatic joy of having regained what she had lost.

"I'm the mother!!"

boom!

These words were like a thunderclap, exploding in Shanks' ears.

All speculation, doubt, and reason crumbled instantly before these five words.

Shanks was completely stunned.

The world is quiet.

The pirates' exclamations, the sound of the waves, and the wind all vanished.

That one sentence kept echoing in my mind.

"I'm your mother..."

"I'm your mother..."

The lock that had been sealed in my mind for the longest time was smashed open by a heavy hammer.

Countless fragments emerged.

An infant's perspective.

Blurry, swaying.

One year old.

Valley of the Gods.

The flames soared into the sky, making the sky red.

Everywhere there were shouts of killing and explosions.

Someone was carrying him as they ran.

That embrace was warm, with a faint fragrance, exactly the same scent I smell right now.

"Don't be afraid... Shanks... Don't be afraid..."

A gentle voice was in my ear, but the person speaking was trembling.

The scene changes.

A huge treasure chest.

Captain Roger found his treasure chest.

But before Roger opened it.

A pair of gentle hands placed him inside.

"Live on...you must live on..."

A young face, streaked with tears and cigarette ash, came closer.

The only image he had of his mother was a memory of her.

That woman had the same red hair as him.

She kissed him on the forehead.

Warm, moist, and filled with desperate love.

Then, the lid was closed.

dark.

……

in reality.

Shanks' body jolted violently.

The image of my mother in my hazy memory perfectly overlaps with the face before me.

The woman in front of me was even younger than myself.

It really was his mother.

Shanks' only remaining right arm froze in mid-air, unsure whether to bring it down or hug back.

He is one of the Four Emperors.

He is the emperor who reigns over the new world.

He is the freest pirate.

But faced with that one word, "Mom," he was reduced to just one identity.

A man finally found his mother.

far away.

Sitting to the side, Chen Ye watched this scene and gently spat out the grape skin from his mouth.

"Tsk."

He shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"The script is a bit melodramatic, but I have to say..."

Chen Ye glanced at the silent white-bearded man beside him.

"These kinds of reunion scenes are always touching, no matter how many times you watch them, Dad."

The white-bearded man didn't laugh.

At this moment, with his head tilted back, something seemed to be flashing in the corner of his eye.

He grabbed the gourd and took a big gulp to cover up the slight fluctuation in his voice.

"Gurararara... That red-haired brat, he'll probably never be able to repay this favor in his lifetime."

Meanwhile, on the Red-Haired Pirates' side...

Ben Beckman exhaled a long puff of smoke, finally relieved.

He looked at the captain, who was being held by the woman and stood stiff as a wooden block, and a look of relief flashed in his eyes. He turned around and gestured for silence to the group of dumbfounded crew members behind him.

"Keep quiet."

"This is their time."

"Anyone who dares to disturb me, I'll wipe them out."

A mother and son, separated by decades, embraced in front of thousands of pirates in a way that defied common sense yet was perfectly natural.

Shanks' hand, which had been hovering in mid-air, finally stopped trembling.

He landed slowly and carefully.

It landed on the woman's back.

Then, tighten.

"Mother……"