What kind of freedom do you want?

"Long time no see, Shanks."

Makino's voice drifted over on the wind, gentle but utterly calm.

She leaned quietly against Ross's chest, her eyes, once always brimming with warm smiles, now fixed on the Red Hair Pirates with a complicated expression.

Only a few days had passed since she last saw them, yet it felt as though centuries had gone by.

Her life had once been steeped in that little tavern in Foosha Village.

The clink of wooden mugs, the regulars' hearty laughter, the warm afternoon sunshine...

Those days had been happy and fulfilling, but they were like a pool of still water, repeating day after day until she barely noticed time passing.

This time, however, in just a few short days, she had been forced to open her eyes and glimpse the truth of this world.

Every day, a staggering flood of information had been frantically reshaping her mind and body.

The jarring shift from village woman to someone of elevated standing still left her feeling as though she were walking on clouds, everything impossibly unreal.

"Yeah. It has been a while."

Shanks lowered his eyes, his red hair falling across his forehead and casting a heavy shadow.

He slowly took two steps forward, passing his wounded companions to stand alone at the front.

Click.

The sound was faint, yet piercing.

Shanks's rough left hand was already resting on Griffin at his waist, his thumb slowly pushing against its guard.

That guarded stance drew a line between them more decisively than any words could have.

He no longer trusted the familiar yet unfamiliar woman before him.

"Why do this?"

Makino looked at his taut knuckles, a trace of sadness flashing through her eyes, and instinctively took a step forward.

Ross did not stop her. An amused smile lingered on