After the battle,
Somewhere in the New World, aboard the slightly scuffed Oro Jackson.
The sky after the rain was especially crisp; as soon as the weather cleared, Roger rallied everyone for a new round of partying,
and the reason… pick any you like,
let's celebrate shaking Garp off our tail again!
"Party time!!!"
"Oo-oo-oo-oo!!!!!!"
With the captain's loud toast, the rest of the crew answered with laughter; the deck brimmed with rough-and-tumble cheer.
"Bam—"
In all that lively clamor, a door slamming open barely drew notice; no one even clocked the red-haired brat with a goose egg on his occiput, baring his teeth as he scanned the crowd,
the straw hat on his head knocked askew by the bump, making him look a little ridiculous—and the nearby hands who spotted him all snickered.
"Got that bump in the last naval skirmish, Shanks?"
Roger, hugging a bottle and riding a good buzz, spotted him—this promising sapling of a new era he had high hopes for—stepped up, ruffled his hair, and asked with a grin,
"No… Where's Aos?"
Shanks clearly didn't want to talk about the lump; face awkward, he changed the subject,
when he woke up, he grabbed Buggy to ask about the bump, and Buggy—disloyal as ever—dumped it on Aos at lightspeed just to deflect the fallout.
Sure, Shanks considered himself an easygoing guy, but getting sucker-smacked by a buddy—hard enough to knock him out and leave a big welt—was a bit much for his pride,
everyone knew that besides his crewmates, nothing mattered more to Shanks than his face.
Nine years into his debut, this was the first time anyone had disrespected him this badly.
So the long-smooth-sailing young Shanks finally saw red,
he wanted to prove himself—or call it revenge for the lump.
Weaving through the raucous banquet, Shanks kept sweeping his gaze around, hunting for a trace of Aos,
and finally found him in a huddle of big bruisers,
the guy was eating roast meat.
The kind where you chomp a whole bone at a time and chase it with gulps of drink—looked easy and cathartic; back in the other world he'd be a top-tier mukbang star.
"Oh? Shanks, why are you glaring at me—want some roast too?"
"Why the knife in your hand? It's already carved—one bone, all meat."
"What? A man's duel? I'm starving—let me eat first. You wouldn't want an unfair win, would you?"
"Ate too much—you get it, right? Give me a minute to digest."
"…Hang on, digested now, but I ate way too much—gotta take a dump. Wanna come keep me company?"
"Are you done yet? You gonna stand guard even while I'm on the toilet—you insist on a duel, huh?"
"Fine then—behold my mop… freshly dipped!"
Shanks knew all about Aos's monstrous strength and broken Observation Haki, so faced with this kind of "magic-damage" weapon, he wisely chose a temporary retreat,
can't be helped—he wasn't afraid of a straight-up fight, even losing was fine; worst case, bandages and a few days in bed,
but a poop-dipped mop? That he did fear.
Still, thanks to that, over the next few days Shanks kept hounding Aos nonstop, making him super uncomfortable,
forget it—kids are kids. If it's a fight he wants, then a fight it is.
Aos shook his head, fetched a plain longsword from the stores, and tossed it to the still-sulking Shanks,
he fumbled the catch, and Aos crooked a finger at him, a roguish grin tugging at his lips,
"You little bastard!"
Shanks got a little fired up—he could tell Aos had finally agreed to a bout. He gripped the blade one-handed, gathering force; seeing Aos standing still, he didn't plan to hold back,
"Planning to use that rifle on your back? I won't give you the chance to shoot."
He admitted Aos's marksmanship was nasty, but in close quarters, he wasn't afraid.
Seeing Aos's stance, Shanks bristled, sprang off both feet, and chopped down,
swordplay handed down from Rayleigh and Roger—refined and forceful,
but with the same teachers, it obviously couldn't break Aos's approach.
"Whoosh—"
"Whoosh—"
"Whoosh—"
Aos kept his eyes closed and still didn't strike back—just tilted his head, turned his body, tightened his core…
"Damn you, Aos! Are you just going to keep dodging forever?!"
Shanks was seeing red; he felt played.
"…Since you want me to use a weapon—fine."
Aos opened his eyes—he'd wanted more Observation practice, but helplessly fished out a little knife he'd "borrowed" off Buggy,
"Sorry, I don't have anything smaller."
"You kidding me!"
As it turned out, peers with Haki and those without were on completely different tiers—even if that peer was Red-Haired Shanks,
and at nine, all he could do was cycle sword technique and try to press Aos, yet each strike was neatly, almost teasingly, parried by Aos with the little knife,
Parry × N
and those full-force chops couldn't shake Aos's monstrous strength, leaving Shanks forced back again and again.
"Shanks is completely getting suppressed by Aos."
Plenty of crewmates were spectating, Roger, Rayleigh, and Gaban among them; seeing this, Rayleigh shook his head with a sigh,
to them it was two chicks pecking each other, sure—but right now Aos, with Observation and raw power, had Shanks firmly under heel,
and in their experience, natural-born monsters like this almost without exception carried a king's disposition,
"With brats like these, the future era's bound to be a blast!" Roger laughed.
Aside from those three, the rest were chaos gremlins who loved a good show—pirates, after all, live for it,
Aos's mentor, Bittam, even took the chance to open a betting line on the odds,
Aos: 1 to 1
Shanks: 10 to 1
Draw: 5 to 1
The move even got Roger excited enough to pull out some loot to wager.
"Aos, nicely done—finish it in one go!"
"Hey! Shanks, don't give up so easy!"
"Huh??? What are you on about—no matter how you slice it, Shanks isn't winning this one."
"And what if he does? That's ten to one."
"Degenerate gamblers never end well!"
The onlookers bickered hotly; Roger tossed his stake in too, cheering for Shanks—who had almost no backers,
he knew Shanks was nearly certain to lose, but the kid he'd raised from small deserved some support,
besides, the treasure he was betting was from a recent haul—he had no use for it anyway.
Just as the whole crowd was roaring their support,
Aos's Observation suddenly prickled—something odd—and then a voice sounded in his ear.
"Call it a draw, Aos."
"Uncle Bittam?"
(In Film Red, there's a usage like this—Yasopp and Usopp, in different "dimensions," still communicate and listen via Observation.)