High above the open sea, a newsbird spread its wings wide, gliding on the wind with a satchel full of newspapers.
Its sharp eyes swept the waves below, scanning for ships.
If it spotted one, it would circle down to accompany it briefly.
If the people aboard wanted a paper, a simple transaction would take place.
Of course, being a newsbird was a dangerous job.
After all, no one could predict what kind of lunatics might be sailing the Grand Line.
But today was oddly peaceful.
Not a single ship had appeared for a long while.
Bored out of its mind, the bird kept gliding, neck turning lazily side to side
until its gaze froze mid-turn.
Its whole body stiffened in midair, wings locked in place.
Fortunately, its wings were still outstretched, allowing it to keep gliding instead of plummeting.
And the reason?
Because when it turned its head, it saw someone floating right beside it
flying forward at the exact same speed.
When their eyes met, the man grinned wide, flashing a perfect row of gleaming white teeth.
White.
Cold.
Unnervingly bright.
It was the kind of scene straight out of a horror story in the sky.
That man, of course, was Don.
Seeing the bird frozen in place, Don pulled out two hundred Berries and slipped them neatly into its money pouch. Then, with a casual motion, he drew out a paper and shot off in a streak of flame, vanishing toward the distant sea.
It wasn't until Don disappeared that the stunned newsbird finally came back to its senses, flapping its wings frantically.
That had scared the feathers right off it.
Literally.
Moments later, a burst of fire descended from the sky
Don landed smoothly on the ship's deck.
Under two large parasols sat Mihawk and Issho, each occupying one.
The shade covered almost the entire deck.
"Still haven't found an island?" Mihawk asked, lifting his eyes briefly as Don walked over, paper in hand.
"What's the rush? It's not like we're short on time," Don replied. "Or are you suddenly busy?"
This exchange had happened several times already.
Even Issho didn't bother reacting anymore—though opening his eyes wouldn't have helped much either.
Don dragged over a beach chair and sat down, unfolding the newspaper in his hands.
He wasn't expecting much—just killing time, hoping for something interesting.
But as soon as his eyes hit the front page, they widened.
He immediately turned to look at Mihawk.
The sudden movement made Mihawk raise a brow.
"Come to think of it, you've been friends with Red-Haired Shanks for years, haven't you?" Don asked.
"Yes," Mihawk nodded, still calm. His gaze drifted toward the paper. "Why do you ask?"
"Because," Don said, eyes scanning the headlines, "Red-Haired Shanks has just gone to war with Charlotte Linlin in the New World."
At that, even Issho sat up straight, turning his face toward Don.
"Looks like your friend's making a move," Don said lightly. "As his close companion, you must know what he's planning."
He didn't lift his eyes from the report as he spoke.
The World Economy News had dedicated an entire issue to the story
which wasn't surprising, really.
Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom—was one of the reigning emperors of the New World, ruling a massive territory.
"This is hardly unexpected," Mihawk replied calmly, closing his eyes again. "Anyone who enters the New World eventually crosses paths with the Emperors."
"But compared to Big Mom, Red-Hair's power isn't quite on the same level, is it?" Issho asked, curiosity in his tone.
"Not necessarily, Issho."
Don's eyes flicked across the article, shaking his head.
"This time, it was Shanks who initiated the attack. From the look of things, he's even got the upper hand for now—though Charlotte Linlin herself hasn't made an appearance yet."
He quickly skimmed through the rest, gaining a full picture of the situation.
Aside from Kaidou, both Big Mom and Whitebeard had carved up enormous chunks of the New World.
Many smaller islands, hoping to avoid being pillaged, had voluntarily aligned themselves with those two powers.
Fish-Man Island, for example.
"You're thinking of going there?" Issho asked quietly, sensing a shift in Don's tone.
"Not immediately," Don said, smirking. "I mean—come on. A war between Emperors isn't going to wrap up overnight. We've got time to… watch them play."
He leaned back and turned to Mihawk.
"What do you think, Hawk Eyes? Can Red-Hair actually win this one? You should know his strength better than anyone."
"No idea," Mihawk said flatly.
"Humor me. Take a guess."
Don wasn't about to let him off that easily.
After all, out of the three of them, Mihawk was the only one who had fought alongside—or against—Shanks.
At his current age, Shanks should already be near his prime.
Even if his Conqueror's Haki hadn't yet reached its future peak,
it certainly wouldn't be far behind Charlotte Linlin's.
"With his strength, ruling the New World wouldn't be difficult," Mihawk admitted after a pause.
"Then we'd better pick up the pace," Don said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
This was, after all, around the time Shanks earned his title as one of the Four Emperors.
Perhaps this war with Big Mom was the event that cemented it.
If he could face Charlotte Linlin and not lose,
then naturally, the world would recognize him as an Emperor.
Which meant—time was short.
Fortunately, from what Don had read, this war wouldn't end any time soon.
The Four Emperors would eventually divide the entire back half of the Grand Line among themselves.
For Shanks to fully seize a piece of that pie would take time
unless he somehow managed to kill Charlotte Linlin outright.
But clearly, that hadn't happened.
"Robin, your turn!"
Don shouted toward the cabin, and Robin leaned out from inside.
"Time to speed up."
"Got it!"
She nodded, canceling her ability.
Don rose and walked to the stern
in the next instant, flames erupted behind him.
The little ship surged forward at incredible speed, skimming across the waves like a jet.
Both parasols were immediately ripped away by the wind.
Mihawk pressed down on his hat, eyes fixed on the roaring flames at the ship's tail.
"You'll get used to it," Issho said calmly, leaning back against his staff-blade.
With Don's flames propelling it, the small vessel moved like a ground-effect craft
just barely not taking flight.
After some time, Don cut off the flames and vaulted onto the cabin roof, scanning the horizon ahead.
Without propulsion, the ship began to slow down.
Mihawk and Issho joined him at the bow, raising their eyes.
Before long, a dozen black dots appeared at the far edge of the sea.
END OF CHAPTER
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