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The salty air of the Grand Line chilled to a crisp breeze as winter settled in. The sea was calm for once, the rare tranquility broken only by the occasional creaking of the ship. It was Christmas Eve, and aboard the Big Top, Buggy the Clown sat in his cabin, draped in a heavy coat, his legs crossed beneath a pile of blankets. Even with the hearth burning brightly, there was still an icy draft that seeped through the cracks in the walls. His vibrant blue hair stuck out from beneath a comically oversized Santa hat, tipped slightly to the side. He was staring intently at the tiny package in front of him, wrapped haphazardly in red and green paper.
Buggy wasn"t one for traditions, least of all those sappy, sentimental ones that other pirates seemed to hold on to. But this year, something was different. It had been years since he"d thought about that red-haired bastard, but with the sea so still, the nights so cold, and the stars twinkling like they did all those years ago when they were still apprentice pirates aboard Gol D. Roger"s ship, Buggy couldn"t help but remember.
Shanks.
His name alone was enough to make Buggy grit his teeth and let out an exaggerated huff. The man who ruined his life—or so Buggy liked to believe. Still, a small, nagging part of him could never quite let go of their shared past. They had once been close—almost brothers, though Buggy would never admit it aloud. And now, as Buggy stared at the present he"d prepared, a pang of nostalgia hit him harder than he expected.
"Damn it, why did I even bother?" Buggy muttered to himself, glaring at the gift. His plan had been simple: sail to where Shanks" ship, the Red Force, was docked and—against his better judgment—give him this ridiculous present.
But Buggy, being Buggy, couldn"t simply walk over and hand Shanks the gift. No, this required flair, dramatic tension. He wasn"t about to let Shanks think he"d gone soft. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
There was a knock on the door, and a burly pirate poked his head in. “Captain, we’re nearing Shanks’ ship. What’re your orders?”
Buggy’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Perfect,” he said with a grin that stretched ear to ear. “Prepare the cannons! We’re going in with a bang!”
---
Meanwhile, aboard the Red Force, Shanks stood at the bow of his ship, his usual carefree smile on his face as he gazed out at the calm sea. Christmas wasn’t a big deal for pirates, but his crew liked to celebrate anyway. His first mate, Benn Beckman, leaned against the railing beside him, lighting a cigarette.
“Any idea where we’re heading for Christmas, Captain?” Beckman asked.
Shanks chuckled, his red hair catching the light of the setting sun. “No plans this year. Just letting the sea guide us.”
Suddenly, the calm was shattered by the unmistakable sound of cannon fire. Explosions echoed in the distance, and in moments, the crew was scrambling.
“Captain! It’s Buggy’s ship!” yelled a crewmate.
Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Buggy? What’s that clown up to now?”
Sure enough, through the mist, Buggy’s gaudy ship emerged, flying its infamous jolly roger adorned with a bright red nose. Shanks sighed. Of course Buggy would show up unannounced—and on Christmas Eve, no less.
“Brace yourselves!” Shanks commanded, but even as his crew readied for battle, Shanks himself couldn"t help but smile. There was something almost nostalgic about the way Buggy made his entrances, always loud and overly dramatic.
Aboard the Big Top, Buggy was directing his crew with wild gestures, cackling as the cannons fired harmless warning shots. His plan wasn’t to sink the Red Force, of course, but to make sure his arrival was impossible to ignore. As the ships drew closer, Buggy stood on the deck, arms crossed, nose in the air, doing his best to look both menacing and aloof.
Shanks appeared at the bow of his ship, waving casually. “Buggy! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Buggy sneered. “Don’t act so friendly, you red-haired fool! I’m here for—uh, important pirate business!”
Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Pirate business? On Christmas Eve?”
“YES, ON CHRISTMAS EVE! YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?!” Buggy snapped, stomping his foot. “Besides,” he added, dropping his voice to a mumble, “I didn’t come here to get all sentimental with you.”
Shanks chuckled and leapt gracefully onto Buggy’s ship, landing with ease. He took a few steps forward, arms wide. “Well, I’m glad you came. I’ve been meaning to catch up.”
Buggy flinched, feeling his irritation flare. How could Shanks be so calm, so infuriatingly nice all the time? It made Buggy"s skin crawl. But before he could retort, Shanks’ eyes fell on the small, gift-wrapped package sitting behind Buggy.
“What’s that?” Shanks asked, curiosity piqued.
Buggy’s face flushed red, almost matching his nose. “It’s—nothing! Don’t look at it!”
But Shanks, being Shanks, just grinned wider and stepped past Buggy, reaching for the package. “Is this for me?”
Buggy panicked, his limbs flying apart as he tried to intercept Shanks. “NO! IT’S NOT! I—” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing how ridiculous he looked—his hands and feet scattered across the deck, his head floating inches away from Shanks". Buggy quickly reassembled himself, crossing his arms defiantly.
“Fine! Yes, it’s for you! BUT DON’T GET THE WRONG IDEA!” Buggy barked. “It’s not because I like you or anything!”
Shanks picked up the package, his smile softening. He could tell Buggy was embarrassed, but there was something genuine in this moment, something rare.
Shanks unwrapped the gift carefully. Inside was a small, intricately crafted model of the Red Force, made from driftwood and painted with remarkable detail. Shanks stared at it, stunned.
“Buggy… this is amazing,” he said softly. “You made this?”
Buggy turned away, his arms still crossed. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, alright? I just had some spare time. Thought I’d make something. Doesn’t mean anything!”
But Shanks could hear the meaning behind the words. Despite their rivalry, despite the years that had passed, there was still a bond between them.
“Thank you,” Shanks said, his voice sincere.
Buggy turned back, eyes wide. “Wh-what did you say?”
“I said thank you,” Shanks repeated with a grin. “I love it.”
Buggy sputtered, unsure how to respond. His emotions were swirling in a way he wasn’t used to—pride, embarrassment, maybe even a hint of happiness. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it! Next time we meet, I’ll crush you!”
Shanks laughed, placing a hand on Buggy’s shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”
As the night fell and the stars lit up the sky, the two old rivals stood on the deck, the quiet of the Grand Line enveloping them. Christmas wasn’t about presents or traditions, but in that moment, it felt like an old friendship was rekindled—even if Buggy would never admit it.
And for once, on Christmas Eve, Buggy felt something close to peace.