"Huh?"
Before Ozz could even react, Buggy jumped up like he'd been electrocuted, his jaw practically hitting the deck as he shouted in disbelief.
"Shanks, what the hell are you thinking? There's gotta be a limit to how reckless you are! You? Against Ozz? Are you trying to die?!"
Blunt as that was, Shanks couldn't exactly argue. Buggy had a point.
They were both thirteen, but the difference in strength was night and day.
Ozz had already begun brushing against the threshold of Advanced Conqueror's Haki—while Shanks, even at his best, could barely summon a faint sense of Haki. Let alone actually use it.
Still, sometimes strength only comes to those who dare to reach beyond themselves.
"I see…"
Ozz gave a knowing smile.
So that's what this was.
Shanks was treating him like an XP farm.
And honestly? It made sense. The fastest way to grow was to spar against someone just one level above you. Not so weak it was useless, not so strong it was impossible.
"Alright then. If you've got that kind of resolve…"
He gave a playful grin. "Bring it on."
Looking at Shanks—who was still a full head shorter—Ozz suddenly had a mischievous idea.
His mind flashed back to a duel they'd had a few years ago.
The infamous scene known throughout their crew as:
"Sorry, I don't have a smaller knife."
But now, rummaging around, he found nothing of the sort. No dagger, no fruit knife. Only his usual long spear and longsword. Definitely not what he needed for a reenactment.
"Hm…"
After thinking it over for a while, Ozz fully activated his creative combat instincts. His gaze fell on the clothesline at the back of the ship—there it was. The perfect substitute.
A pair of underwear.
"Shanks!"
The redhead stepped forward, gripping his sword with both hands. His voice was filled with the fiery spirit of youth, bold and unafraid. A glimpse of the man who would one day become an Emperor of the Sea.
"Accept my challenge!"
Ozz didn't respond to his passionate declaration. Instead, he strolled over to the clothesline, casually plucked off a freshly laundered pair of his own underwear, and—with both Shanks and Buggy watching in stunned silence—he gave it a shake…
Then twisted it tightly into a cord.
Clang—!
It glowed black as Armament Haki surged through it.
(Armament Haki, in its defense: "If I'd known I'd be coating underwear, I'd have stayed in your fists…")
"Sorry," Ozz grinned. "I don't have a smaller pair of underwear."
Shanks had been totally immersed in the moment. His blood was pumping, his mind sharp, his senses tuned for battle. He'd been scanning Ozz for weaknesses, planning his first strike—
Only to watch, helpless, as Ozz hardened a pair of underwear and wielded it like a weapon.
He couldn't keep a straight face.
"Y-You bastard!!"
"Ozz, are you kidding me?!"
"You're looking down on me way too much!!!"
First it was the infamous knife. Now it was underwear?! He wasn't even pretending anymore!
Shanks had fought beside Ozz for five years. He knew just how terrifyingly strong he was—gunplay, swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, Haki… there was nothing he hadn't mastered. And whenever he fought a new enemy, Ozz could always pull out the perfect strategy in an instant.
Even barehanded, he'd seen Ozz punch his way through battlefields using just raw strength and Haki-coated fists, swapping pointers with the ship's best martial artists.
But now, facing him, Ozz just grabbed a pair of underpants, slapped some Haki on it, and called it a day?
Shanks took a massive psychic hit.
Was this Ozz's twisted sense of humor? Or did he actually think underwear was the best tool for fighting him?
What kind of joke was that!?
If you weren't going to use that terrifying spear or those monstrous fists, at least use your sword, you jackass!!
Shanks tightened his grip on his blade. Maybe it was just to prove a point—but every lesson from Roger's swordsmanship came flooding back.
His eyes turned razor-sharp, far beyond what any kid should be capable of.
He was, after all, the one Roger himself had called "a future king."
Maybe not as broken as Ozz, sure. But among their peers? Shanks was second to none. The blade in his hands began to shimmer faintly—an early sign of a future swordmaster.
"Nice form," Ozz said, still standing there, not even moving a foot.
No future-sight. No defense stance.
Just casual, relaxed observation.
That lack of tension sparked a flicker of hope in Shanks.
Maybe… he could hit him.
Maybe—just maybe—he could win!
Even Ozz wasn't invincible!!
CLANG—!
The clash of metal echoed across the ship.
Buggy, watching from the side, held his breath.
Shanks' strike—sharpened by conviction, powered by everything he had—hit its mark.
Right on Ozz's…
Um.
Underwear.
Shanks froze.
Wait—when did he block that?
Even Buggy looked completely blindsided.
Shanks stared up at Ozz, mouth slightly open, eyes full of disbelief. Ozz looked back, grinning like a gremlin who'd just pulled off the perfect prank.
"Phew. That was close. Almost didn't react in time," he said, flashing his teeth.
The worst part?
He meant it.
Shanks twitched.
"Shanks, just give it up," Buggy chimed in helpfully. "You're totally outclassed."
It was unclear if he was trying to get Shanks to retreat or just pouring fuel on the fire.
But it worked either way.
Veins bulged on Shanks' forehead. His blade began to hum with barely formed Conqueror's Haki. With a growl, he charged again—
CLANG—!
Ozz blocked with the underpants.
Again.
And again. And again.
The clash of steel and underwear rang out over and over. Ozz stepped back casually, parrying each attack like he was dancing. He wielded his "Supreme Underwear" with calm precision.
With Armament Haki coating it, it had essentially become a Black Blade.
The kind that had crossed blades with future Emperors.
While Ozz was all relaxed, Shanks was teetering on a breakdown.
He couldn't even cut through a pair of briefs. What was the point of his Haki?! His blade? His training!?
Every technique he'd ever learned, every form, every slash—Ozz dismantled them all with a flick of cloth and a smirk.
His sword edge started to chip.
Meanwhile, that damn pair of underpants? Still pristine.
It was like they were made of ancient, indestructible sea stone.
And little by little, after all that rage… came fatigue.
Even though Shanks had pushed past his limits, ascended in the midst of battle, he still couldn't lay a finger on Ozz.
Until—
Gurgle…
Ozz's stomach growled.
"Sorry. Let's call it a day."
Shanks blinked.
Before he could even process what he'd heard, Ozz vanished.
Wind rushed behind him.
Wait—no—
No… no no no—
"Please don't let me get knocked out by a pair of underwear—"
He wanted to dodge.
He really did.
But Ozz's "Black Gun" came down on the back of his head with a sharp THUNK—
Before he could even finish his sentence, everything went black.
Buggy watched, horrified, as a massive lump started to swell on Shanks' head.
He winced just looking at it.
Poor Shanks.
Yeah, he got stronger in the heat of battle.
But the price?
A lifetime of embarrassing blackmail material.