Shanks gave a cold nod and said, "Whatever the case, you understand what I mean, don't you? Prepare food for nineteen people. Wake up whoever you need to—but no one, and I mean no one, leaves this restaurant until I return. I'm heading to the bathhouse for now."
He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, "And remember—I'm a sensory-type ninja. You understand what that means, right?"
The manager's face paled. He swallowed hard and nodded quickly. "Y-Yes... I know. A sensory ninja can detect chakra and movement across a wide area..."
"Exactly." Shanks's hand moved to the hilt of his sword. With a faint metallic hiss, he partially drew the blade from its sheath. The glint of steel was all the threat he needed.
"So you also understand," Shanks continued, voice low, "what it would mean if someone tried to run."
The manager's breath caught in his throat. "Y-Yes, sir. I understand completely," he said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Don't worry. Your food will be ready. Please take your time in the bathhouse. I'll only wake the chefs and waiters—just the ones needed to cook and serve. No one else."
Shanks gave a curt nod, returned his sword to its sheath with a sharp click, and added, "And don't worry—I'm not here to rob you. I'll pay double for the food and the use of the bathhouse."
The manager nodded quickly, not daring to say another word. With that, Shanks turned and strode out of the restaurant.
The moment he was gone, the manager sprang into action. He grabbed a nearby jug of water and rushed over to two of the waiters, dousing their faces. The two groaned, slowly regaining consciousness.
"Manager… what happened?" one of them asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Why were we knocked out?"
The manager's face was tense and serious. "Forget about that for now. Just know this: someone did this—someone dangerous. All you need to do is what I tell you. Clear five tables immediately. And remember—no one leaves this restaurant. That man said if anyone tries, he'll kill them."
The waiters paled, fear washing over their faces as they looked around and noticed the other patrons still unconscious across the floor.
Without another word, the two got to work, trembling but obedient. The manager turned and sprinted toward the kitchen to wake the chefs, his hands still shaking slightly. He had no idea who that one-armed swordsman was—but he knew one thing for certain: this was not someone to cross.
-----
Shanks stepped into the bathhouse and made his way to the men's section. Inside, a few patrons who had arrived earlier were still in the baths—at least, they had been. All of them now lay unconscious, slumped against the wooden walls or floating gently in the water, victims of Shanks's earlier surge of Conqueror's Haki.
In the far corner, the young boys of Shanks's clan were already washing up. Their movements were rushed and tense—not the carefree splashing of children enjoying a rare bath, but the hurried scrubbing of boys burdened with anxiety. They washed in silence, eyes downcast, the weight of the past few days clearly etched on their faces.
They weren't here for comfort. They were here to clean themselves quickly and get ready for whatever came next.
Shanks observed the boys quietly. Their hurried movements, tense shoulders, and silent demeanor told him everything he needed to know—they weren't just bathing; they were scrubbing off fear, blood, and exhaustion. He understood their behavior all too well.
And it wasn't just them.
Through his active Observation Haki, he sensed the women and girls in the adjoining section of the bathhouse. Their chakra signatures were hurried, restless—mirroring the boys'. No one was relaxing. No one was letting their guard down. They were all just trying to wash away the trauma of the past days as quickly as possible.
Shanks didn't need to see them to understand. Observation Haki didn't grant him sight beyond walls or clothing—it only revealed the ebb and flow of energy, the rhythm of breathing, the tension in muscle and spirit. There was no blasphemy in it. Only awareness. And what he sensed was a group of people still very much in survival mode.
Shanks' voice echoed through the steam-filled air, strong enough to reach not just the boys, but the women on the other side of the bathhouse as well. He spoke with quiet authority, the weight of his words carrying more than just instruction.
"I know you're all in a rush," he said, his tone steady yet warm, "just trying to wash up and move on. But listen—now that we're here, we've got at least thirty minutes before the food is ready. Why not take this time to truly rest? Enjoy a moment of peace, if even for just half an hour. If there's any danger or trouble, I'll let you know immediately. But for now, take a breath. Relax."
His words hung in the air for a moment, soft yet unwavering. It wasn't just a suggestion; it was an invitation to reclaim some small sense of normalcy, a break from the chaos they'd lived through.
After speaking, Shanks began attempting to open his shirt. The simple task was far more challenging than he anticipated, and for the first time since the loss of his arm, he struggled. His movements were slow, awkward—this was a new experience for him, doing everything with just one hand.
Just as he fumbled, a voice broke through his concentration. "Onii-chan, should I help?" It was Benimaru, his young voice filled with concern.
Shanks paused, then shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. "No need, Benimaru. I need to get used to this on my own. If I need help, I'll ask."
Benimaru nodded in understanding, though a hint of worry still lingered in his eyes.
It took Shanks a solid five minutes to carefully remove his clothes, each movement deliberate as he adjusted to his new reality. But he managed it. On his own.
Once his clothes were off, Shanks moved to the shower area. He scrubbed the blood and grime from his body, the harshness of the water momentarily grounding him.
Afterward, he sank into the hot spring, the warmth enveloping him like a comforting embrace. He exhaled softly, the tension in his muscles beginning to melt away. It had been a relentless, exhausting journey, but finally, he could allow himself a brief respite. For the first time since arriving in this world, he could rest.
----
Want to get daily updates and read chapters on a daily basis? Then join my Patreon!
Patreon Link: https://[email protected]/Hkj822
Join Discord Link: https://discord.gg/FUnTzyS9