The desert wind hadn't stopped screaming since the fight began.
It howled across the dunes, lifting spirals of golden dust around two figures locked in a violent dance, one gleaming like forged iron under moonlight, the other painted in red and blue and blood.
Buggy staggered backward, his boots dragging deep lines in the sand.
His breathing came sharp and uneven, his once-bright makeup smeared and streaked down his cheeks.
Bruises bloomed purple and black beneath the white paint, his chest rising and falling with manic rhythm.
Mr. 1, Daz Bonez, advanced again, unrelenting.
Each step sank heavily into the sand, and with every movement came that faint metallic hum, like a blade just drawn from its sheath.
Buggy spat blood, grinning wide despite the way his jaw ached.
"Man, you hit like a freight ship. You sure you're not hiding cannonballs in there?"
"You could fly away," Daz said, voice level, tone almost irritated by the clown's persistence. "Crocodile expected you would. That's why I was sent, not to kill you, but to remind you of your place."
"Remind me, huh?" Buggy chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Guess I forgot it somewhere between smacking your boss and stealing his wallet.
Daz's arms shifted, forearms gleaming as they turned to blades again. "You're a fool."
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that," Buggy shot back, feet digging into the sand. "But hey, I'm still here."
He launched himself forward before Daz could respond.
A wild charge, straight and unguarded, his fist slamming into Daz's jaw with a meaty crack.
The steel-skinned assassin barely flinched. The blow would've shattered normal bone, instead, it just sent a shockwave up Buggy's arm that made his knuckles scream in protest
Pain radiated through his arm like fire, and Buggy hissed through his teeth. He could feel something in his wrist shift.
"Ahaha! That's… that's gonna swell."
Daz's counter came immediately.
A spinning kick, a blade sweeping like the edge of a guillotine. Buggy blocked with both forearms. Metal met flesh with a dull crack. He was thrown backward again, tumbling through the sand, rolling until he came to a stop with a groan.
He didn't get up immediately. He lay there, staring up at the moon for a moment, chest heaving.
His hands twitched. His ribs throbbed. His body screamed to stop.
But he laughed anyway.
"Man… this is getting fun."
He rose again, brushing sand off his coat. "C'mon, shiny. You can't expect me to run from a fight like this. Not when I'm finally warmed up."
Daz exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. "You're insane. Even for a pirate."
"Flattered you noticed."
He swung again, a flurry this time. Fists, elbows, knees, everything he could throw, slamming against that steel hide.
Each hit cracked skin, split knuckles, and sent shivers of agony crawling through his limbs. But he didn't stop.
Blow after blow, his movements became sharper, faster, desperate but precise. His laughter turned ragged, the rhythm of a man too stubborn to die.
Daz barely moved. His defense was perfect. Arms crossed, blades intercepting every attack, the desert ringing with metallic clangs.
Still, tiny marks were showing, small dents scattered across his chest and shoulders, imperfections marring the perfect sheen of steel.
They were nothing, really. But they were there.
And that fact alone made Daz uneasy.
"This is pointless," he said, stepping forward and driving a knee into Buggy's stomach. The clown doubled over with a sharp gasp. "You can't win through sheer madness."
Buggy coughed hard, clutching his side, but refused to fall. "Maybe not. But madness keeps me going when reason says I shouldn't."
"You'll break every bone in your body before you touch me."
"Then I'll just fight with broken ones!"
He charged again. Daz met him halfway. Their fists collided with a sound like thunder.
Sand exploded outward, a wave of dust and debris lit by moonlight.
Buggy flew back, body twisting midair, but managed to land on his feet this time. His hands shook violently.
The bones inside felt like powder. He could barely curl his fingers anymore, and yet he laughed through gritted teeth.
Daz tilted his head slightly, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes. "You should've run. Crocodile expected this to be quick. You're… defying expectations."
"Good!" Buggy barked a hoarse laugh. "I hate playing by other people's scripts."
He lunged again, but this time, this time something changed.
There was no laughter now. No flamboyant taunts or exaggerated gestures. His grin remained, but it was tight. Cold. Focused.
Daz saw it instantly. The clown's movements, still wild, still fluid, had a rhythm now. A pattern.
Each step, each pivot, each breath was perfectly timed with his opponent's.
The first metallic arm came down, Buggy ducked under it.
The second swept horizontally, he leaned back, air whistling past his nose.
A kick aimed for his ribs, he twisted, shoulder dropping just enough for it to skim harmlessly past.
He wasn't reacting anymore. He was predicting.
Moving before Daz even struck.
'What monstrous instincts and concentration…' Daz thought, his teeth gritting as he adjusted his footing. 'He's already gotten used to my fighting style...'
Bggy's breathing slowed, steady now, controlled. The air between them thickened with tension, no longer manic but razor-sharp.
Every fiber of his body screamed in pain, but his mind felt eerily clear. The sound of the desert faded, the wind, the waves, all gone. Only rhythm remained.
His heartbeat. Daz's breathing. The glint of metal in motion.
Daz feinted right and spun left, bringing a full metallic arm down with the intent to crush Buggy's head in.
Buggy sidestepped, barely.
Then, without warning, he extended his right arm.
No flourish. No faints. Just a simple movement, his palm pressing flat against Daz Bonez's chest.
For an instant, nothing happened.
Then the world split.
A deep, wet sound tore through the quiet night — SHHHK—!
A line of red blossomed across Daz's chest, from shoulder to hip.
His eyes widened, confusion flashing across his stoic face. He stumbled back, the sand beneath him darkening.
"...W-what…" Daz rasped, looking down. "Did you just… cut me?"
Buggy didn't answer right away. His hand still hovered midair, faintly trembling.
A thin stream of blood slid down his wrist, his own, not Daz's.
He looked at his palm in disbelief, then began to laugh.
It wasn't his usual wild cackle, it was low, tired, almost reverent.
"Hah… haha… I get it now. So that's how it works."
Daz dropped to one knee, breathing heavy, the wound spilling crimson.
The cut was clean, impossibly clean, slicing through steel like it wasn't there. His vision blurred.
"You… channeled it," he muttered, realization dawning even through the haze. "Through touch."
Buggy looked down at him, eyes alight with a strange, feverish clarity.
"The Chop-Chop fruit… It doesn't just separate me, does it?" he murmured. "It can separate… anything. Flesh, air, you. It's easier said than done, I've been struggling to do this for weeks..."
He crouched, meeting Daz's fading gaze. "Thanks, shiny. I couldn't have figured that out without you."
The assassin tried to speak, but only blood came out.
He collapsed onto the sand, his metallic sheen dulled by the layer of dust and blood coating his body.
Buggy stood there for a moment, swaying slightly. Then his knees buckled too.
He fell backward onto the cool desert sand, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. The moon above swam in his vision, haloed in silver.
His arms ached. His bones felt like shards of glass inside him. Every breath burned, but the pain made him laugh.
"Hahh… hahaha… the world feels… even more beautiful now~"
He reached one trembling hand toward the sky, fingers closing around the empty air, as if trying to grab the moon itself.
The wind carried the faint sound of the sea again, distant and calm. The dunes shimmered softly, like gold dust under starlight.
And there, in the middle of it all, the Clown lay smiling, bruised, bleeding, and utterly content.
But as he finally tested... The kingdom burned.