After eating until he was full, Shanks stood up and stretched before heading out to practice.
'I won't be able to grow stronger than I am right now for a long time,' he thought as he walked toward the training area. 'The thing about this world is, most kids start building their strength when they're really young. Especially the ones from clans — they get training, guidance, everything. By the time they hit twelve and become genin, they already have a fighting style and stick with it for life. Not wrong, but… it limits them.'
He swung his wooden sword a few times, the sound cutting through the quiet evening.
'They grow fast while they're young because all their development happens early. Me? I mostly rely on my physique. But for that to grow, I need time — maybe when I hit sixteen or seventeen. For now, I'm still a kid. Hell, even my milk teeth haven't all fallen off yet.'
He smirked at the thought, then sighed. That didn't mean he was weak. Even now, if a few Jōnin tried to mess with him, they'd regret it. Still, he was nowhere near the level of the monster he used to be.
He dropped to the ground, laying flat after finishing a few drills. Looking up at the sky, he raised his hand and focused. A faint spark of lightning flickered between his fingers.
"Cool," he muttered.
This world fascinated him. Manipulating elements like this — it really was something. Chakra itself was a miracle. In his old world, there were Devil Fruits and Haki, but it wasn't the same. Devil Fruits gave external power — not everyone could get one, and even fewer got a good one. Haki required years of effort, training, and will. But here, everyone had chakra. Even kids. That alone made this world dangerous.
He let out another sigh. "Anyway," he mumbled, "time to sleep. Tomorrow's my day off. I'll get myself a real sword… then train with Minato."
Finding something like Gryphon was impossible, but he only needed a decent blade for now.
The next day, Shanks made his way toward the ANBU building. He knew where he was going. The guards outside didn't even look at him — but that wasn't because they didn't care. They didn't notice him at all.
He had used something he called "Observation Killer", a trick he developed to suppress his presence completely, used against observation haki users, but it worked aginst those with sharp senses. It didn't erase him from existence, but it was good enough to walk straight into the ANBU headquarters without a single mask turning his way.
A few turns later, he stopped in front of a familiar door. He could feel the person inside before even opening it. Without knocking, he pushed it open.
Inside, a man with short grey hair and calm eyes looked up from his desk, startled.
"Lil' Shanks," Sakumo Hatake sighed. "I told you not to sneak in here like that. Every time — just announce yourself, and an ANBU will bring you to me."
"Nah, that's troublesome," Shanks said casually, walking in. "Sakumo-nee-san, I'm here for the sword you promised me last year."
Sakumo leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You really don't forget, do you?"
"Of course not," Shanks said with a grin. "You said you'd make me a sword when I was ready."
"And you think you're ready now?"
"Yup."
Sakumo gave a small laugh. He had known Shanks since he was a toddler — Hiruzen had asked him personally to train the boy in swordsmanship and discipline, though the latter part hadn't really stuck. Over the years, he'd seen Shanks' talent firsthand. His sword form was strange, almost foreign, but it worked — effective, fast, and unpredictable.
"You've improved a lot since the last time we trained," Sakumo admitted. "Though you still swing like a pirate."
"That's because I was one," Shanks said without hesitation.
Sakumo chuckled. "Right. How could I forget."
They left the ANBU office together and made their way to the Hatake compound. It was quiet there, surrounded by tall trees and mist. Inside one of the side buildings, Sakumo showed him a collection of swords — all neatly displayed, all well-kept.
"These are family pieces," Sakumo explained. "Some are relics, some from other lands. I've collected a few during missions. Take your pick."
Shanks walked among them, his eyes scanning each blade with interest. He eventually stopped in front of one. It wasn't too big, slightly curved, with a deep-blue scabbard and a simple handle.
"This one," he said.
Sakumo nodded. "Good eye. That one came from overseas. Made with thirty-seven percent chakra-conductive metal. It's sturdy — responds well to chakra flow."
Shanks unsheathed it slightly, the metal glinting under the light. He smiled faintly. "It's not Gryphon, but it'll do."
"Gryphon?" Sakumo asked, curious.
"An old friend," Shanks said, sliding the blade back into its scabbard.
He turned toward the door. "Thanks, nee-san. I owe you one."
Sakumo waved him off. "Just don't bring trouble my way again."
"No promises," Shanks replied with a grin before disappearing out of sight, leaving the White Fang shaking his head with a quiet laugh.