"Red-Haired Shanks!"
The moment Jack saw the pirate ship appear on the horizon, with its crew of stylish and diverse misfits, his face immediately darkened.
"You damn nonconformist punk! How dare you show your face in front of me again!"
"Looks like you've gotten stronger since last time!"
Jack scrutinized Shanks' crew, his gaze lingering on the curly-haired sniper pointing a gun at him. A menacing glint flickered in Jack's eyes as he growled:
"You've gathered some decent fighters, huh? That guy's aim seems deadly accurate."
"Hahaha!"
"Yasopp, lower your gun! We're all old friends here!"
Shanks raised his hand to calm his crewmates and leaped down from the ship. With a relaxed grin, he approached Jack.
"No need to make this a tense situation. "Come on, Jack, cut me some slack, will you?"
Jack's eyes turned bloodshot with rage. Memories of their last encounter—where Shanks left him battered and humiliated—flooded his mind. Now, this guy had the nerve to ask for leniency?
"Old friends?!" Jack bellowed. "How about I give you a fist instead, huh?! Do you want that?!"
He jabbed a finger toward Shanks.
"I heard you ran off to the East Blue—the weakest sea of them all! What was it, a vacation? Or were you running scared?!"
Jack sneered and clenched his fists.
"Don't worry. I'm not one to hold grudges. Come closer, Shanks. Let me give you a proper beating to settle things!"
But as Shanks approached, his black cloak billowing in the wind, Jack's sharp eyes finally caught the unusual sight. Shanks' left arm was... gone.
"Wait a minute... What the hell?! Your left arm!"
Jack's disbelief deepened as he realized that one of the most powerful pirates in the New World—someone of Shanks' caliber—had lost an arm. How was that even possible? And in the East Blue of all places?
Shanks chuckled, his grin widening.
"My arm? I bet it on the New Era!"
"...Bet it?!" Jack repeated, confusion plain on his face. "You're telling me you gamble your limbs now? What kind of casino were you at? And if you were betting, shouldn't you have wagered your right arm? You're a lefty, right?!"
"That's not what I meant!" Shanks stomped his foot in exasperation. "It's not that kind of bet! And I didn't mean that New World either!"
Jack tilted his head, mockingly.
"Ohhh, so you donated it to science, huh? Some kind of cloning experiment?"
Shanks hung his head, defeated.
"Fine. Think whatever you want."
Jack's gaze lingered on Shanks, and after a moment, he noticed something else missing.
"Wait… Where's your ridiculous straw hat? You know, the one that makes you look like a farmer?!"
"...It's gone too. Consider it... gambled away."
"Tsk, tsk," Jack shook his head, feigning disappointment. "That must've been one hell of a crappy casino to take everything from you. "
Shanks stood there, dumbfounded, as Jack's words barely made sense to him.
A sudden cough from nearby brought Shanks back to reality. He turned to see Mihawk, bruised and battered, leaning against a nearby rock. Though his injuries surprised Shanks, he couldn't resist taunting his old friend.
"Hahahaha! Mihawk, looking this ragged? Now that's a rare sight!"
Mihawk, relieved that Shanks' arrival likely guaranteed his survival, relaxed slightly.
"Hmph. I only lost because I was already worn out from previous battles. If you faced him in my condition, your fate wouldn't be any better!"
While the two traded barbs, Jack's face grew darker. His gaze locked onto Mihawk, and he sneered.
"You're nothing but a pathetic mutt, Mihawk!"
Mihawk winced, clutching his shoulder in pain. Shanks quickly intervened.
"Hey! You won the fight, Jack. No need to insult your opponent!"
"Insult?" Jack scoffed. "You don't know half of it! This guy—this so-called 'Hawk Eyes'—pissed on the open sea! Nearly got me in the crossfire! Do you know how disgusting that is?! Can't he afford a ship with a bathroom?!"
Shanks blinked in surprise before turning to Mihawk, whose face turned beet red.
"Wait… Mihawk, is that true?!"
"I—!" Mihawk tried to protest, but Shanks rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Come to think of it, saltwater would sting like crazy. Mihawk, does it not bother you?!"
"You bastards! I'll kill you both! Cough, cough...!"
Mihawk, utterly humiliated, coughed up blood and collapsed unconscious. Shanks panicked.
"Oi! Mihawk! Stay with me! Doc, get over here!"
As Shanks' crew tended to Mihawk, Shanks turned back to Jack, his tone calm but firm.
"Look, Jack. I understand what happened. It's all a big misunderstanding. Let's end this here. If you still want to fight, I'll take Mihawk's place!"
Jack glanced at Shanks' empty sleeve, then at his ship. Finally, his eyes met Benn Beckman's calm but menacing gaze.
"You've got some impressive nakama, Shanks," Jack said quietly. "Fine. I'll give you face this time."
Shanks beamed.
"Hahaha! Thanks, Jack! You're not so bad after all!"
As the Red-Haired crew prepared to leave, Jack's subordinate Yamato stormed over, fists clenched.
"Why'd you let them go, Jack?! You're injured—you should've finished them off! If you couldn't, I could've helped!"
Jack sighed, exasperated.
"Yamato, do you really think I'm invincible? With you here, I can't even fight at full strength!"
And with that, Jack strode back to the Mammoth, his footsteps heavy with frustration.
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The fanfic is Finished on p@treon/tambeerg