~ So this was my fault but also Uchiha Xairylle's fault as well. And they don't even ship these two, lol. Anyway, here's a little piece about the beginning of rivalry and friendship ~

Hat, hat, where had his hat flown off to? Shanks muttered curses as he was nearly clipped by a fruit cart. The vendor shouted at him but he couldn't be bothered. He had to find his hat! Captain Roger had given it to him. He couldn't just go back without it!

Turning down an alleyway, Shanks spotted his beloved hat. A young man about his age held it in his hand, carefully turning and examining it as one would a questionable piece of fruit. "Hey you!" Shanks shouted even though he wasn't all that far away.

The stranger looked up, piercing yellow eyes gleamed from under the wide brim of his own hat. Shanks stopped before him, momentarily struck by the golden gaze set upon him. He held out his hand. "Give it back." He said, politeness tossed elsewhere for the moment while his brain desperately tried to piece itself back together.

Lips twisted in a scowl, the man glanced between the hat in his hand and Shanks. "This is yours?"

"Yeah, and I'd like it back." Shanks had recovered enough for his snarky attitude to snap back into place.

"You know, some manners would do you a world a good."

"Look here, you yellow eyed dandy," Shanks stepped forward hand outstretched with the intent of taking his hat back. How hard was it to just give someone back their stuff? Shanks missed the straw hat as the man stepped back quickly. His hand continued up, coming in contact with the edge of the one sitting on his head, and Shanks snatched it away. They both looked in shock at the feathered hat now in Shanks' hand. "Well… now we're even. So, let's trade and –AGH!" He leaned away as the edge of a sword he hadn't realized the man was carrying zipped by his nose.

He reached for the hilt of his on instinct as the man readied himself for another strike. Really? Was he really about to attack Shanks for this? It was his fault. The intensified look he wore told Shanks that he meant to draw blood soon. "Fine." Shanks huffed. With a smirk, he put the wrong hat on his head and drew his sword. "This could've been avoided."

A yellow eyed glare burned toward him with disdain. "Indeed." He lunged forward, tip of his sword aimed for Shanks arm.

Captain Roger sat outside the local tavern, mug half raised to his mouth as someone not Shanks and wearing his old straw hat skidded backwards across the cobbled street. Almost immediately after, Shanks sped toward him from around a building, oversized plumed hat resting atop his head, clashing and looking horribly ridiculous with his worn common clothing. Roger hated to admit it, but the other man was somehow wearing the straw hat with an unusual amount of elegance. He bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh as Shanks had to hold on to the hat with one hand to keep it from tipping off his head. Like it was trying to flee… Though he was impressed that the boy he taught sword play to was able to parry and fend off his opponent's double handed strikes whilst he only had one hand on his blade, he couldn't get around how the mismatched hat style was destroying the ambiance of the duel, and only on Shank's end. The feather flopped up and down, like a one winged bird desperately trying to take off Shanks head and failing as he kept it firmly in place with his hand. Unable to hold it in any longer, Roger tossed his head back and laughed heartily while the clashing sound of metal on metal had some scampering away and others calling for the marines.

"Who is that he's fighting?" Rayleigh asked from across the small round table.

Roger shrugged as he downed the ale. "Don't know. But this is certainly entertaining! Hahahaha!" His first mate quirked a small smile. "Odd tradition they have here though." The famous captain watched as the two continued their duel, noticing how they were both careful not to strike toward the head and possibly damage the hats. "Buggy!"

"Aye, Captain?" The cabin boy asked from the tavern doorway where he was watching his fellow.

"Go find out who he's fighting, for me." Roger waved in the direction of the sword fight.

"WHAT?!" Buggy almost dropped his mug.

"It'll be fine." Rayleigh added with a laugh. "You can't get cut up, so you're the man to do it." This was followed by several jeers from the rest of the crew. Buggy chugged his drink before he stomped off to find Shanks, gritting his teeth and adding a few new reasons to hate the man.

Shanks somehow managed to get his hat back and even his new 'friend' had his own, but they were still fighting. Right up until the point where they slashed and stabbed Buggy who had the misfortune of getting between them. They paused as he put himself back together while running off screaming for the captain.

With the mood for a fight dead, Shanks turned toward the swordsman sheathing his blade and extended his hand. "Draw? And I'll buy you a drink."

"Draw." He took the offered hand. "For now at least. And I'm afraid I'll have to skip out on that drink. Perhaps next time, Red Hair."

Shanks pouted. Why always his hair? "Suit yourself dandy." He laughed at the glare he received but didn't rescind the nickname. The man was wearing a floral print shirt and still managed to look as suave as any noble Shanks could imagine, even with the death gaze. A firm shake reminded him his hand was still held in the other's firm grasped. He felt slightly caught, like prey pinned down and paralyzed by this man's beautiful golden eyes. "Hawkeyes?" He tried to amend with a name better suited to the man's unique features.

"Mihawk, in fact." He released Shanks' hand.

"Shanks."

Mihawk nodded. "I'll be looking forward to our next fight." He turned and walked away.

"And a drink! You owe me a couple of rounds now!" Shanks called after him. He got a wave in response. Fixing the hat on his head, Shanks headed back to his captain and crew.