Roger's always been that kind of guy.
When he found his first crewmate, he said, "Wanna turn the world upside down with me?" and somehow talked Rayleigh right onto the ship.
Now he's trying, "I'll hand Shakky over to you," to hustle Dimon—
Dimon could only stare. "Since when did Shakky become yours?"
Roger chuckled. "We bumped into the Kuja Pirates yesterday. After all these years, Shakky's over Rayleigh. She even sweetly told me where to find you, which obviously means she likes me now!"
Self-delusion comes in threes, and Roger just collected the full set.
Dimon was speechless. Still… Shakky suddenly being indifferent to Rayleigh? That was news. Years ago, when Shakky heard Rayleigh didn't want to see her, she was so heartbroken she nearly wasted away—if not for the Wine of Immortality saving her.
So was that the reason?
Dimon glanced at Rayleigh.
Rayleigh nodded. "That's… pretty much it."
Dimon's gossip switch flipped on. "You sure you didn't do anything stupid? Like getting caught overnight in the red-light district?"
"...We haven't met in ten years," Rayleigh said, lines of exasperation forming on his brow. "She said it herself—her 'lovesickness' was a virus, and she's cured."
"So you're not denying the red-light district part?"
Dimon mused: even Mr. Thick-Brows has his vices, huh.
Then again, they're pirates. Young, hot-blooded, and human. Needs exist. The fact he hasn't kept a harem on board probably earns him a "Decent Pirate" certificate from the heavens.
Rayleigh felt his face heat under Dimon's look and hurried to change the subject.
"Dimon, our ship ran aground on Kuri Beach. We could use some timber. We'll handle the repairs ourselves."
"Didn't you build with Treasure Tree Adam?" Dimon asked. Adam wood is the best in the world—Luffy's second ship was made from it. The tree's colossal, rooted in Elbaf; the giants built a nation around it.
"Just the keel," Roger said, steering the talk back on track. "The rest is regular wood. Anyway—forget the ship for a minute. Dimon, you'll agree, right?"
"No. Kua-do-wa-ru."
A flat rejection—no hesitation, no mercy.
"No, you agree!"
They went back and forth like bickering kids while everyone else lowered their heads, pretending not to see.
The banquet rolled on between "I agree!" and "I refuse!" until Roger finally declared that if Dimon didn't agree, he simply wouldn't leave. He'd squat in Wano until victory.
In the end, Dimon sent a load of timber and tools to the Roger Pirates. Rayleigh hauled the supplies back to Kuri Beach and got to work.
Seeing he wouldn't crack Dimon quickly, Roger settled in for a siege—but he didn't cling like a barnacle. He took Jabba and the boys to wander Kuri.
As the nominal daimyo, Kaido tagged along as guide.
Dimon figured he was really just looking for people to fight. Pirates meeting pirates—throwing hands is normal; not throwing hands is the rare phenomenon.
Leaving them to their tourism-by-combat, Dimon remembered he still had a rubbing of a red Poneglyph and was about to call Abel to bring it over when two runts waddled up—one red-haired, one red-nosed.
"Hello, I'm Shanks—an apprentice of the Roger Pirates," the redhead said politely.
Buggy tugged his sleeve and hissed, "Oi, Shanks, you seriously gonna ask? That's a living legend. If you make him mad—"
"I'm an adult," Dimon smiled. "I don't hold grudges against children." He squinted at Buggy. "Red-Nose, I can hear you just fine, y'know."
"Who are you calling Red-Nose?!" Buggy snapped. Then he looked up at Dimon and immediately shrank, pointing at Shanks. "He's the one with questions."
Dimon could already guess.
Sure enough, Shanks asked what was burning a hole in his mind.
"Sir Dimon, just now at the banquet, you told Captain Roger that you saw 'another one' in the Holy Land… what did you mean?"
"Curious?" Dimon ruffled his hair. "Why should I tell you? There's no free lunch on the seas."
Shanks had thought about asking Roger, but he knew the answer: if Roger wanted to tell him, he already would have. So he tried Dimon on a prayer.
He suspected it touched his own past.
Who were his parents? Why was he, as an infant, sealed in a treasure chest? Why did Captain Roger find him?
Shanks drew a little dagger and steadied his eyes.
"Sir Dimon, I'm a pirate—and so are you. Let's decide it the pirate way!"
"Are you crazy?!" Buggy gaped. "You can't beat him! Do you even know who he is?"
"Of course. Former Rocks remnant, the legendary Brewer Dimon. On these seas, what pirate hasn't heard of him?" Shanks tightened his grip and met Dimon's gaze. "If possible, just swordsmanship. No Haki—I don't know it yet."
Dimon never imagined the day would come when a five-year-old challenged him.
He wasn't like Mihawk, who wears a miniature knife on his neck. So Dimon simply raised his right hand and checked his nail.
"Come on then. If you beat me in swordplay, I'll tell you."
Shanks blinked. "You're… not using a sword?"
"Sorry, I don't carry kid-sized knives. But I'm pretty good at Finger Blade Style. Should be enough for a child."
Dimon crooked his finger. After you.
Shanks froze—then flushed with indignation. Finger… blades? With a fingernail?
"Here I come!"
He lunged.
Steel rang—tink!—as Dimon's thumbnail casually caught the edge. No Haki. No effort.
Shanks ground his teeth and changed angles, attacking in flurries. Dimon yawned, sat cross-legged, propped his chin with one hand, and parried with the other. Every time, the nail met steel.
Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!
Like a blacksmith's rhythm.
Buggy's jaw unhinged. Human nails can do that? That was a real blade!
"How… how is this possible?!" Shanks's strikes grew wilder. On the ship, both Rayleigh and Roger called him a genius with the sword. At five, his form wasn't half bad.
So why—
Why could someone, with a fingernail, lazily block everything?
No way. The world can't be that big!
In that moment, little Shanks forgot his past. He only wanted to prove himself.
Dimon didn't block the next swing—
But before Shanks could exult, a terrifying finger had already tapped his forehead.
"Alright. You lose."
The dagger stopped at Dimon's chest.
Shanks panted, eyes unfocused. "I… lost…"
"You're already impressive," Dimon said. Compared to his twin brother Shamrock, Shanks was clearly stronger at the same age.
He paused, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Lose, and you accept punishment. Now… what to do with the little brat who dared challenge me…"
Shanks sheathed the dagger with a solemn bow. "I accept any punishment."
"You said it." Dimon laughed—and an evil idea clicked.
Twisted Future: Human Body Modification Engineer.
Lend me the power… of the Horm-Horm Fruit!
His fingertip nail sharpened—and jabbed Shanks lightly in the belly.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Buggy yelped. "You trying to kill him?! We can apologize! You don't have to—"
"Who said anything about killing?" Dimon withdrew the nail, smiling. "I'm not a devil. Just gifting him an… experience few mortals ever get."
"Right, Shanks—"
He tilted his head.
"—or should I say… Shanksie?"
Shanks stood there, petrified. Something pulsed through the body—blood racing, hair lengthening. When "he" spoke, the voice came out wrong.
A little girl's voice.
Shanks—no, Shanksie—trembled, grabbed the waistband, and peeked. The color drained from "her" face.
"Gone. I'm… gone!!!"
—And that was when a certain loud, familiar laugh echoed from the corridor, followed by the heavy thunk of a scabbard against wood…
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