As both Laffitte and Clubs locked eyes, there was an unspoken acknowledgment between them. Each recognized the other's strength, and though they were on opposite sides, a mutual respect began to form.
The rest of the crew stood back, watching silently, the wind carrying tension across the shore. Then, without warning, Clubs raised his rifle and fired a shot directly at Laffitte.
Laffitte, light on his feet and silent as a ghost, slipped past the bullet and closed the distance in an instant. His knife gleamed as he slashed toward Clubs, but the boy did not falter. Clubs parried with the rifle itself, swinging the iron-reinforced stock into the path of the blade, sparks flying at the clash.
Not giving Laffitte time to recover, Clubs shifted his stance and swung the rifle like a bat, forcing Laffitte to dodge. Using the momentum from his evasion, Laffitte retaliated with a sharp kick aimed at Club's side. Clubs blocked the strike with his free hand, showing not only quick reflexes but also surprising strength for his age.
The fight devolved into close-quarters combat, rifle against knife, hands against feet. Clubs displayed an unusual mastery of martial arts, using the rifle as both weapon and shield, while Laffitte countered each move with uncanny precision. Their duel turned into a stalemate, blow for blow, parry for parry.
Jack, Aramaki, and B watched intently from the sidelines.
"He's a great fighter, don't you think so, Jack?" Aramaki asked, his eyes following the flurry of movements. To him, the battle almost looked choreographed, like a fight scene from an anime where every strike and dodge carried weight and meaning.
"Yeah, but he's too clean," Jack replied, his voice calm yet certain. "That boy hasn't been in a real fight. He doesn't know what it means to fight someone who'll do anything to survive—like Laffitte. Give it five more minutes, and you'll see. Laffitte will start controlling the flow, forcing him to waste energy. Once that happens, it's over."
Aramaki frowned, not fully convinced, while B tilted his head curiously, wanting to see if Jack's words would prove true.
Sure enough, Jack's observation was accurate. After just over five minutes, Clubs' movements began to slow. His strikes were still sharp, but his arms carried less strength, his dodges less speed.
Laffitte, grinning like a predator savoring the hunt, pressed harder. Each of his strikes carried subtle feints that drained Clubs further, manipulating the pace of the fight until the boy's rhythm broke.
Finally, Clubs fell for one of those feints. He misread the angle of an attack and left his side exposed. Laffitte wasted no time. His blade drove into Club's side, drawing blood. He immediately pulled it free, twisting to ensure the wound bled heavily, then followed with a brutal heel kick that sent the boy sprawling across the sand.
Seeing his advantage, Laffitte prepared to strike again, but something unexpected froze him mid-motion. Clubs, despite the wound, had already drawn a pistol. It wasn't the same standard weapon he had been using before—it was smaller, customized, and its barrel shimmered strangely.
Before Laffitte could react, Clubs fired. Not once, but three times in the blink of an eye. The bullets whistled through the air unnaturally fast, and before Laffitte could move away, they detonated on impact.
Two struck his sides, exploding on contact, while another slammed into his torso, sending shockwaves of pain through his body.
Both fighters collapsed, injured and breathing heavily, the battle ending in mutual destruction.
"Huh," Jack muttered, his tone even as he resisted the surge of anger bubbling inside him. He hadn't used his Observation Haki on purpose, preferring to watch the duel unfold naturally. Now, the result was before him—unexpected but fascinating.
"Laffitte!" both Aramaki and B shouted as they rushed forward. Jack followed at a steadier pace, his eyes moving between Laffitte and Clubs.
Laffitte was bleeding badly, but his focus was locked on the boy across from him. Clubs, lying on the ground and clutching his wound, stared right back. Both of them, despite their condition, wore the same expression—wide, toothy grins, as if they had enjoyed every second of their fight.
B summoned a glowing tentacle, pressing it against Laffitte's wounds. The regenerative energy seeped in, knitting torn flesh and halting the bleeding. As the healing worked, Jack crouched down beside them.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Jack asked quietly, glancing at Laffitte.
"Yeah," Laffitte replied without hesitation, his grin never fading.
Jack turned his attention toward Clubs, whose condition was even worse. Blood loss had left him pale and barely conscious, though his spirit hadn't broken.
"Heal that boy, too, B," Jack ordered.
B blinked, confused. "But Jack, he—"
"We're trespassers here," Jack interrupted firmly. "I don't want our first day on this island to end with someone dead. Heal him."
Aramaki nodded slightly, understanding Jack's reasoning, while B sighed and moved to follow the command. Another tentacle of healing energy stretched out, wrapping around Clubs' wound. The bleeding slowed, then stopped, though the boy remained too weak to stand just yet.
------------------------
After a few hours had passed, Clubs finally stirred. He had lost consciousness while being healed by B's strange ability, and when he woke, the first thing he noticed was the smell of roasted meat.
A campfire crackled nearby, with Aramaki crouched over it, tending to the food with surprising patience. Just beyond the fire, Jack was seated with B and Laffitte, speaking in low tones that stopped the moment they saw Clubs begin to sit up.
He groaned quietly, the pain in his side reminding him of the wound he had suffered earlier, and the sound immediately drew the attention of all three. They turned toward him at once.
"You're awake. Good timing," Aramaki said, lifting his eyes from the fire. "The food's nearly done."
Clubs blinked, surprised by the casual response. His eyes shifted as Laffitte rose and approached him with a calm expression.
"Are you feeling alright?" Laffitte asked, his voice even, as though nothing had happened between them earlier.
Clubs' brow furrowed. "You're a pretty bad pirate if you don't kill your enemies. Instead, you sit here offering them food," he said bluntly, his tone carrying both confusion and sarcasm.
Laffitte only smirked. "Well, you caught our interest. And besides, the Captain doesn't want us making unnecessary trouble. You were the one who attacked first—I only defended myself and the crew."
"Anyway," he continued, gesturing to the others, "let's make this proper. This is Jack, our Captain. That's Aramaki, the right hand. B—the one you owe your life to, since he patched you up. And, well, you already know me."
Clubs took a moment to look at each of them in turn. Then he nodded slowly. "Clou D. Clubs," he introduced himself formally. "I'm the son of the head of this island."
The statement didn't provoke much from Laffitte or B, both of whom stayed neutral. But Aramaki's eyes sharpened slightly at the name.
"Tell me," Aramaki asked suddenly, "do you know Monkey D. Dragon?"
Clubs stiffened, his confusion obvious. "How do you know that name?"
A faint smile spread across Aramaki's face. "So that's it. Makes sense now. We know Dragon. He's the one who taught us how to use haki. Judging by the way you fight—disciplined, precise—I'd bet he trained you too."
Clubs blinked, then let out a short laugh. "So you're connected to Dragon? If you'd said that earlier, I might have avoided getting stabbed. Could've saved us all the trouble."
"Well," Laffitte replied with a shrug, "you were the one who came at us with a rifle. That looked a lot like a declaration of war to me."
Clubs gave a small nod, understanding the point. "Fair enough," he admitted.