Crocodile's sharp gaze swept over Shiro and Issho, sizing them up with a quiet, predator's confidence. He slowly exhaled a smoke ring — the scent of tobacco curling through the air.
"So," he said lazily, "what'll it be, gentlemen? You can walk out now with your winnings… or stay and let me play host for a while."
Shiro leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest. His expression was calm, but the glint in his eyes was anything but.
"Let's keep playing," he said, a teasing edge in his tone. "Though, if we keep winning, are you sure your little casino can afford to pay up?"
Crocodile gave a low chuckle. His golden hook tapped rhythmically against his palm — tak, tak, tak.
"Worry not, honored guests," he said smoothly. "The Sand Emperor Casino doesn't run dry so easily. And if, by some miracle, I do run out of cash… this entire island — the docks, the hotels, the shops — all belong to me. You can take your pick as payment."
Shiro grinned. "Then let's begin."
He gestured toward the table with a mock flourish, inviting Crocodile to take the dealer's seat.
Crocodile walked over, sitting with slow confidence. He lifted the silver card shoe with practiced grace, ready to deal.
Issho immediately reached for his mountain of chips, but Shiro quickly pressed down on his arm and shook his head.
Instead, Shiro calmly counted out five hundred thousand Berries and slid them onto the Player side.
Crocodile raised an eyebrow. "Only that much?" His tone hinted at disdain, but he said nothing more and began to deal.
The first round — Shiro and Issho drew a six, while Crocodile drew an eight. A clean loss.
Second round — same bet, same result.
And so it went, ten straight rounds. Every hand a loss. Fifty million Berries gone.
Crocodile pressed his cigar into the ashtray, scattering grey dust across the glass. His lips curled into a smirk.
"Playing that small won't get your money back, gentlemen." His tone was both mocking and faintly instructive, as if toying with them.
Shiro, however, smiled easily.
"No worries. These chips were all winnings from before. Easy come, easy go."
Then, leaning forward, his grin widened just slightly — and a flicker of cunning light flashed behind his eyes.
"Besides… when all's said and done, I think you might be the one walking away broke."
Crocodile's smirk twitched, fading a little. The teasing look in his eyes turned wary.
Shiro ignored it, calmly stacking another five hundred thousand in chips on Player.
Five more rounds. Five more losses.
And then, suddenly, Shiro froze mid-motion. Both hands pressed down on his remaining pile — one hundred and fifty million Berries.
He took a slow breath. Then, with one sweeping motion, he shoved every last chip forward. They slid across the felt with a loud crash, filling the Player zone.
"Oh?" Crocodile's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Now we're talking."
He smirked, tapping the tabletop with his golden hook.
"I thought you'd keep hiding behind small bets forever. Let's make this one interesting."
"Start dealing," Shiro said, his voice low and steady. His eyes never left Crocodile's hands.
A faint white glow flickered at his fingertips — the Paw-Paw Fruit's power stirring.
As the two cards landed on the table, Shiro's invisible energy quietly wrapped around the silver card shoe, sealing it in a thin film of compressed air.
He flipped over his cards: two neat Nines, their surfaces glinting faintly in the light. Eight points total.
A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
Across the table, Crocodile raised his cards — Two and Ten. Two points. By the casino's rule, he'd have to draw a third.
But when his metal hook reached for the shoe, his expression shifted.
The subtle grit of sand that usually brushed beneath his fingers was gone.
His pupils contracted slightly.
Long before the match began, he'd discreetly infused the deck with grains of sand from his Suna Suna no Mi — the Sand-Sand Fruit — allowing him to sense and control the cards through touch.
It was a simple matter of cheating by feeling which card to draw.
Yet now… nothing.
No matter how he tried to summon his power, the sand remained inert — frozen, unresponsive. The cards refused his will. His Devil Fruit ability had been cut off completely.
"What's the matter, Crocodile?" Shiro's voice carried an easy mockery as he tapped the table with a single finger.
"Go on — draw your card."
Crocodile's brow furrowed tightly. He tried three more times to stir the sand, each attempt met with the same dead silence.
With a slow exhale, he gave up. The cigar between his lips crackled faintly as he drew a sharp breath. Then, expression dark, he pulled the top card from the deck.
A Queen of Hearts.
Face cards counted as zero. His total remained two points.
For a long moment, Crocodile said nothing. The self-proclaimed King of the Desert sat perfectly still, though his eyes had turned cold and dangerous. Beneath the table, his hook hand clenched tight.
Shiro leaned back with a casual smile.
"Well, that makes three hundred million in chips for me."
He swept the winnings toward himself, then without hesitation pushed them all forward again. The sharp rattle of clinking chips filled the quiet room.
"This hand," he said, "I'm betting Player again."
Crocodile's jaw tightened. His gaze darkened, but he forced himself to remain composed, lifting the shoe again. His movements were faster this time — almost frantic, as though he could outpace his own frustration.
But the result was the same. Shiro won.
And again.
And again.
Three straight victories — flawless, effortless.
Before long, the pile before Shiro towered over the table, glittering like a small mountain.
By the end, the count stood at 2.4 billion Berries.
And across from him, Crocodile sat in silence — the smoke from his cigar curling upward, thin and bitter — while the air in the VIP room grew so heavy it was almost suffocating.
T/N: If you would like to read up to 20 chapters ahead for all my works, check out my P@treon: patreon.com/GhidorahWriter
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