Chapter 6: Let's Call It a Draw, Dante!
After the battle,
In an unknown sea of the New World, aboard the slightly battered Oro Jackson.
The sky after the rain was exceptionally clear, and as soon as the weather turned, Roger rallied everyone for another banquet.
As for the reason… he could always make one up,
So this time, they'd celebrate shaking off Garp's pursuit yet again!
"Party time!!!"
"Oooooohhhhhh!!!!"
As the captain raised his cup high and roared, the rest of the crew burst into laughter and cheers. The deck was filled with a rowdy, boisterous atmosphere.
BAM—!
In all the noise, the violent slam of a door hardly drew attention. No one even noticed the red-haired brat storming in, a huge bump bulging from the back of his head as he scanned the crowd with gritted teeth.
The boy's straw hat sat lopsided atop the swelling bump, making him look ridiculous. The nearby crewmates who noticed burst out laughing.
"Your head—did you get hurt in the battle earlier, Shanks?"
Roger, in high spirits with a bottle of booze in hand, spotted him—the promising seedling of a new era he had high hopes for. Chuckling, he ruffled the boy's head and asked.
"No… Where's Dante?"
Shanks clearly didn't want to talk about the bump on his head, awkwardly shifting the subject instead.
After waking up, he'd grabbed Buggy and demanded an explanation about the bump. Buggy, the treacherous little coward he was, instantly sold Dante out to save his own skin.
Granted, Shanks thought of himself as a pretty easygoing guy. But getting knocked out cold by a cheap shot from his own crewmate complete with a giant lump was a blow to his pride he couldn't swallow.
Everyone knew: aside from his comrades, the thing Shanks valued most was his pride.
In nine years since setting out to sea, this was the first time someone had trampled on it like this.
And so, the always smooth-sailing young Shanks finally snapped red-hot with anger.
He wanted to prove himself or rather, settle the score for that bump.
Weaving through the raucous banquet, Shanks scanned the crowd again and again, searching for Dante's figure.
At last, he spotted him—
The brat was munching on roast meat.
Gnawing bone after bone, washing them down with gulps of drink he looked ridiculously at ease. In Dante's old world, he would've been a top-tier mukbang streamer for sure.
"Oh? Shanks, why're you glaring at me? You want some roast meat too?"
"Why're you holding a sword? These are all cut nice already one bone, all meat."
"What? A man's duel? I'm starving wait till I finish eating. You wouldn't want an unearned victory, right?"
"Ate too much, though you get that, right? Let me digest a bit."
"…Hold on. Digestion's fine and all, but I ate way too much. Gotta take a dump. Wanna come with?"
"Are you kidding me?! You'll even guard the toilet door? You really won't quit until we duel, huh?"
"Fine then witness my mop… dipped in shit!"
Shanks knew all too well about Dante's monstrous strength and freakish Observation Haki. But against this kind of… 'magical damage' weapon, he chose the wise path—retreat.
He didn't fear a proper sword fight—even losing would just mean some bandages and a few days of rest.
But a mop dipped in shit? That, he could not handle!
Still, because of this, Shanks kept hounding Dante for days afterward, making him restless.
Forget it. Kids will be kids. A fight's a fight.
Dante shook his head, pulled a plain longsword from the storage room, and tossed it to the sulking Shanks.
Shanks fumbled to catch it, only to see Dante crook a finger at him, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.
"You bastard!"
Excitement flared in Shanks. Finally, Dante was willing to fight him. Gripping his sword with one hand, he braced himself. Seeing Dante stand there unmoving, Shanks decided he wouldn't wait either.
"Planning to use that rifle on your back? I'm not giving you the chance to fire it."
He admitted Dante's marksmanship was formidable, but in close combat, he had no fear.
Dante's attitude only stoked his irritation further. Shanks kicked off the ground and slashed toward him.
The swordsmanship taught by Rayleigh and Roger was sharp and powerful,
But facing someone trained under the same teachers, it clearly wasn't enough to break through Dante's moves.
Whoosh—
Whoosh—
Whoosh—
Dante closed his eyes. Without striking back, he simply tilted his head, turned his body, tucked in his stomach—dodging again and again…
"Damn you, Dante! Are you just gonna keep dodging forever?!"
Shanks flared red-hot with anger again, feeling utterly mocked.
"…Since you want me to use a weapon, fine."
Dante opened his eyes. He had wanted to keep practicing his Observation Haki, but with no choice, he pulled out a small knife he'd swiped from Buggy.
"Sorry, I don't have anything smaller than this."
"You've got to be kidding me!"
The truth was plain: between a kid with Haki and one without, the gap was insurmountable even if that kid was Red-Haired Shanks.
At nine years old, Shanks could only keep trading sword strikes, but every single blow was casually deflected by Dante's tiny knife, like a joke.
Clang. Clang. Clang again and again.
Even Shanks' full-powered slashes couldn't shake Dante's monstrous strength, forcing him back step after step.
"Shanks… he's being completely suppressed by Dante."
Plenty of crewmates gathered to watch, including Roger, Rayleigh, and Jabba. Seeing the match, Rayleigh shook his head with a sigh.
To their eyes, it was nothing but chick-scratch fighting. But with Observation Haki and sheer physical might, Dante undeniably had Shanks pinned down.
And in their long experience, every natural-born monster like this carried, without exception, the qualities of a king.
"With brats like these around, the future's bound to be a hell of an era!" Roger roared with laughter.
Aside from the three, the rest of the crew were rowdy thrill-seekers. Pirates loved nothing more than a good spectacle.
Dante's mentor, Beitam, even seized the chance to open a betting pool.
Dante: 1-to-1 odds
Shanks: 1-to-10 odds
Draw: 1-to-5 odds
The move even got Roger excited enough to pull out treasure and place a bet himself.
"Dante, good! Finish him off in one go!"
"Oi! Shanks, don't you dare give up so easy!"
"Hah??? What the hell are you talking about? There's no way Shanks is winning, no matter how you look at it."
"What if he does? That's ten-to-one odds."
"Gamblers never die a good death!"
The onlookers shouted over each other in the heat of betting. Roger tossed in his own stake and kept cheering for Shanks, who had almost no support.
Though he could see Shanks had nearly no chance, the boy was one he'd raised since birth. Of course he'd back him.
Besides, the treasure he was betting with had been stolen not long ago, and he couldn't use it himself anyway.
Just as the whole crowd was fired up, cheering the fight
Dante's Observation Haki suddenly picked up on something strange. A peculiar sensation then a voice whispered in his ear.
"Make it a draw, Dante."
"Uncle Beitam?"