"So that's it!"
A gleam lit up in Jinbe's eyes, and a smile of understanding curved across his lips.
Rolling his shoulders, he strode back toward Crocodile, his gaze burning with newfound resolve.
"Crocodile, I want a rematch!"
Crocodile, who had been watching the sword clash between Mihawk and Issho, barely turned his head at first.
His eyes narrowed, admiring the dazzling rhythm of blades flashing in the sunlight.
"These two... their swordsmanship is on another level entirely."
But Jinbe's voice snapped him out of it. Crocodile turned, brows furrowing in faint irritation.
"You already lost. The outcome won't change."
"No," Jinbe replied firmly, eyes gleaming like the sea before a storm. "This time—I will win."
Crocodile gave a dry laugh, the corner of his mouth curling in arrogance.
"Fine. But don't come crying to me when you lose again."
The moment the rematch began, Jinbe wasted no time.
He thrust both palms forward, summoning the deep-blue might of the ocean itself—
"Fish-Man Karate: Thousand Brick Fist!"
The sea beside the ship surged violently, as if stirred by an unseen hand.
A towering wave, shaped like a coiling dragon, roared upward and crashed straight toward Crocodile.
Crocodile's face instantly darkened.
As a Sand-Sand Fruit user, water was his mortal enemy—the one thing that stripped away his power.
He leapt back again and again, desperately evading the surging waves.
Each time he tried to block with a wall of sand, the moment seawater touched it, the sand clumped and collapsed uselessly.
There was nowhere left to run.
A water pillar slammed squarely into his chest.
In that instant, Crocodile felt his strength vanish—the sand he commanded refused to obey, his limbs growing heavy and sluggish.
Jinbe seized the opening. Both palms gleamed with liquid force as he unleashed another massive shockwave.
With a thunderous BOOM!, the blast sent Crocodile flying backward, crashing hard onto the deck.
He coughed blood, the impact rattling the boards beneath him.
"I did it… I actually won!" Jinbe shouted, punching the air in triumph.
He turned toward Shiro (the captain), his face glowing with gratitude.
If not for Shiro's reminder, he would never have thought to use seawater to counter the desert tyrant.
Nearby, Hachi flailed all eight arms in wild excitement.
"Jinbe-bro won! Jinbe-bro won! So awesome!!" he hollered, his voice echoing across the deck.
Shiro's form flickered as he used the Paw-Paw Fruit to blink to Crocodile's side the moment the sandman tried to stand.
He pressed a glowing palm gently to Crocodile's chest.
Warm white energy rippled through Crocodile's battered body—wounds sealed, skin regained its color, and even the dryness caused by seawater faded.
When the last trace of injury vanished, Shiro withdrew his hand, his tone calm yet assuring:
"Don't let it get to you, Crocodile. Jinbe only won because the sea favored him.
Out here, water strengthens him and weakens you.
But in a desert? With sand stretching in every direction under your command—you'd be the one standing tall."
Crocodile's fingers twitched slightly.
For a moment, confusion flickered in his amber eyes—then gave way to reflection.
He remembered the helplessness of fighting against seawater's touch… and the intoxicating power he once held in Alabasta's endless sands.
Slowly, his trademark smirk returned.
"You're right. At our level, the environment can make all the difference."
Shiro nodded, tapping his palm thoughtfully. A sudden idea struck him, his expression sharpening.
"By the way, Crocodile—
I heard you once fought Douglas Bullet to a draw. That was in a desert too, wasn't it?"
Crocodile raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"So you've heard about that, huh? Yeah, it was in the desert.
That monster's strength, speed, and Haki are off the charts.
If I hadn't been able to draw power from the sands themselves, he would've crushed me."
"That explains it!" Shiro snapped his fingers, realisation dawning.
He'd always wondered how Crocodile managed to stand against Bullet—
now it made perfect sense. The desert had amplified the full might of the Sand-Sand Fruit, allowing him to fight evenly.
Still nursing his pride, Crocodile glanced across the deck.
His eyes settled on Moria, who'd been trying his best to stay out of sight.
"Oi, Moria," Crocodile called with a sharp grin. "You're next."
Moria, startled, immediately waved his hands.
"No, no! I'm good just watching!"
But Shiro chuckled, leaning casually on the railing.
"C'mon now, what's there to be afraid of? A little spar never hurt anyone. Losing isn't shameful—quitting is."
Reluctantly, Moria dragged himself into the open.
In truth, his Shadow-Shadow Fruit powers could make him a serious threat if used properly.
But today, his fighting spirit was nowhere to be found—while Crocodile's was burning brighter than ever.
Each of Crocodile's moves came sharp and fast, sand slicing through the air like blades.
Moria hesitated, second-guessed, and faltered.
His timing slipped, and his shadows lost rhythm.
The result was inevitable.
Barely a hundred exchanges later, Crocodile's sand blade slashed across Moria's midsection, dropping him to the deck in a heap.
Crocodile stood over him, sneering.
"So this is the great 'Moonlight' Moria everyone talks about? Hmph… disappointing."
The crew burst out laughing.
And though Moria groaned in protest, even he couldn't help but smirk bitterly.
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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