Dear Readers,
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Warm regards,
[Silent_stiele]
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When it ca to matters regarding its family mbers, the Donquixote family was ruthless. Their recent act of burning an entire town controlled by the West Blue Mafia to the ground sent shivers down the spines of those involved in the Underground.
"Senor, send them the reply stating that I will be there for the eting. It seems like it’s ti we brought the entire North Blue under our control. Now that we have already attracted the attention of the Marines, there is no need to hold back anymore. Let’s make North Blue our exclusive background. And rember, let the innocents go as much as possible. However, if soone gets caught in the crossfire, don’t sweat it," Doffy declared. Although he had llowed down a bit due to Ross’s influence, cruelty was etched into his very bones. If soone were to test his bottom line, then one would know how cruel a person Doffy truly could be.
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As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the quaint town of Ohara, a three-year-old girl nad Robin sat huddled in a corner of the small, dilapidated house she reluctantly called ho. Hunger gnawed at her tiny stomach like a relentless beast, making her whimper softly in despair. Her mother had left her behind recently, a bitter farewell echoing in her young ears as her mother spoke of seeking the truth of the world. Left in the care of her uncle and his cruel wife, Robin’s days had turned into a nightmare of neglect and abuse.
The little girl’s eyes, once bright and full of curiosity, were now dull with hunger and pain. She had learned quickly to shrink into the background, to make herself as inconspicuous as possible to avoid drawing her aunt’s wrath. But hunger was a relentless enemy, and today it has grown unbearable.
With trembling hands and aching limbs, Robin mustered the courage to step into the dimly lit kitchen. The ager scraps of food her aunt occasionally left behind were not enough to quell the emptiness in her stomach. Her eyes fell upon a small carton of milk perched precariously on a high shelf. It was a luxury she rarely had, but tonight she couldn’t bear the hunger any longer.
Using a wobbly stool, little Robin reached for the carton, her heart pounding in her chest. The stool, worn and unstable, betrayed her efforts, sending her crashing to the floor along with the milk. The liquid spilled out, creating a stark contrast against the faded tiles of the kitchen floor.
The commotion caught her aunt’s attention, a woman whose face bore the marks of bitterness and cruelty. With a scowl etched on her features, she stord into the kitchen, her eyes narrowing at the spilled milk and the fallen child.
"What have you done, you little wretch?" Her aunt’s voice was a venomous hiss as she grabbed Robin by the arm, hauling her up with a rough tug.
"I-I’m sorry, Auntie, I just wanted..." Robin’s voice quivered with fear and hunger, but her aunt’s rage knew no bounds.
"You worthless brat! Always causing trouble!" Her aunt’s hand collided with Robin’s fragile fra, the force of the blow sending her reeling. The room spun as pain blossod across her small body.
"I didn’t an to..." Robin’s words were cut short by another slap, this ti harder than before. Tears welled up in her eyes, mingling with the spilled milk on the floor.
The beating continued rcilessly, with each strike accompanied by harsh words and accusations. Robin tried to shield herself, to escape the onslaught of pain and hunger, but there was no respite. Finally, the world faded into darkness as Robin succumbed to the overwhelming pain and exhaustion.
When she regained consciousness, Robin found herself discarded like a broken toy, her small form lying on the cold ground outside the house. The night air bit at her exposed skin, but the chill was nothing compared to the coldness in her heart.
As she lay there, tears mingling with the dirt on her cheeks, Robin wondered if this was all life had to offer her. A life of hunger, pain, and loneliness. But sowhere deep within her tiny chest, a flicker of resilience remained. A spark of hope that one day, sohow, things would be different.
Her tear-stained cheeks glistened under the moonlight as soft sobs escaped her lips, unheard by the world around her. It was then that a figure erged from the shadows, a young woman with an air of kindness and wisdom about her. She carried a stack of books in her arms, her steps purposeful yet gentle as she approached Robin. Her na was Lily, a librarian who often stayed late at the Ohara library, imrsed in the world of books and knowledge.
Lily’s keen eyes caught sight of Robin’s trembling form, and without hesitation, she knelt down beside the child. "Hey there, little one." Lily’s voice was soothing, a gentle lody amidst the silence of the night. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"
Robin’s watery eyes t Lily’s compassionate gaze, and though she was hesitant at first, the warmth in Lily’s deanor encouraged her to speak. "I-I’m hungry," Robin admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without a mont’s delay, Lily reached into her bag and pulled out a small package wrapped in cloth. "Here, dear. I brought so food for myself, but I think you need it more than I do right now." She offered the al to Robin with a kind smile.
The aroma of warm food wafted through the air, and Robin’s stomach rumbled eagerly. With a grateful nod, she accepted the offering and unwrapped the package. It was a simple al, but to Robin, it felt like a feast fit for a queen. Tears of gratitude welled up in her eyes as she took the first bite, savoring the nourishnt that filled her empty belly.
As Robin ate hungrily, Lily sat beside her, offering quiet companionship and understanding. Once the al was finished and Robin’s hunger had been appeased, Lily spoke again. "Would you like to co with to the library? It’s a warm place, and I have lots of books you might enjoy."
Robin looked up at Lily with a mixture of curiosity and longing. The idea of a library filled with stories and adventures appealed to her young heart. With a shy nod, she agreed, clutching Lily’s hand as they began to walk towards the library together.
As they reached the library, Robin’s eyes widened in awe at the sight of rows upon rows of books lining the shelves. Lily led her to a cozy corner with cushions and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the young girl.
"Here we are, Robin. Make yourself comfortable," Lily encouraged, gesturing to the inviting space. "Feel free to explore any book you like. I’ll be right here if you need anything."
Robin’s heart felt lighter than it had in a long ti. Surrounded by the warmth of the library and the kindness of Lily, she delved into the magical world of books, each page offering a new adventure and a temporary escape from her harsh reality.
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As the appointed ti for my duel with Mihawk drew near, I dedicated every mont to honing my skills and reaching my peak state. Mihawk, hailed as one of the greatest erging swordsn of our generation, was not just a formidable opponent but a crucial step toward realizing my ambition. If I couldn’t surpass Mihawk, how could I ever hope to confront the likes of the Five Elders and the mysterious ruler behind the Empty Throne, Imu?
Throughout my preparation, Bogard, ever vigilant, watched my every move like a hawk. His keen eyes didn’t miss a beat, and it beca clear that I would have to bring him along. However, I made it clear to the Rear Admiral that he must promise not to cause any trouble once we entered the lawless zone. With his strength, he could easily dominate in such areas, and any commotion would only complicate matters.
My thoughts also drifted to the Roger pirates and their enigmatic movents. There had been no recent news of their whereabouts, leading to speculate that they might be planning to utilize the Calm Belt to navigate to the New World. Their actions within Paradise could serve as a diversion, drawing attention away from their true intentions. In the world’s current state, there were few who knew the seas as intimately as the Roger pirates. Their historic achievent of reaching Lodestar Island, accomplished in the sa year I, or rather, the original Donquixote Rosinante, was born, spoke volus about their unparalleled expertise in mariti navigation.
As dawn approached, I made my way toward Grove 20, followed closely by Bogard. The designated area, as described by Shakky, was indeed isolated, with a serene shoreline bordering one side of the grove. It was a picturesque yet ominous setting for the impending clash.
Upon arrival, I found Mihawk and Shakky already waiting. Young Mihawk stood out with his attire—a red shirt adorned with floral patterns paired with black pants. He carried Yoru on his back, a symbol of his unparalleled swordsmanship. The small crucifix around his neck added a touch of enigma to his appearance, contrasting with his focused gaze that has never wavered from since our arrival.
Shakky sat leisurely, smoking, as she observed our approach. Her deanor shifted briefly when Bogard followed into the clearing, causing a montary stiffening of her posture before regaining her composure. It was a subtle reaction, perhaps recalling past encounters and the formidable reputation of Bogard as Garp’s right-hand man.
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, a silent acknowledgnt of the gravity of the duel about to unfold. Each step brought us closer to the clash of blades, a test of skill and determination that resonated within the secluded grove.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the battle ahead. "Mihawk," I called out, my voice echoing through the secluded grove. "Let’s settle this." I realized that Mihawk was not soone who spent too much ti on words.
Mihawk’s gaze t mine, his eyes assessing, calculating. "Thank you for accepting my challenge," he replied calmly, unphased by my challenge.
Without further ado, Mihawk unsheathed Yoru with a swift motion, the blade gleaming under the morning sun. I mirrored his action, drawing out the Sandai Kitetsu with a controlled yet determined expression.
Mihawk’s eyes widened in surprise when he laid his eyes on my black blade.
"You’re either brave or plain stupid to challenge ; I’m sure that you have learned of my moniker among the pirates of the New World," I remarked, my voice carrying an air of authority.
"Yes, the infamous sword demon! I seek to test my limits, and who better to test them than against soone younger than but already with a black blade?" Mihawk replied, his voice steady despite the nerves that tingled in his gut.
The tension between us was palpable as we took our stances, swords at the ready. "Don’t hold back," I said, a determined glint in my eyes. "I want to see what the greatest genius swordsman in the world in the last century is capable of."
The first strike was a blur of motion as our blades clashed, creating a resounding clang that echoed through the grove. The impact sent shockwaves through our bodies, each of us testing the other’s strength and skill right from the start. The force of the collision reverberated through my arms, but I steadied myself, channeling my focus into the duel.
Mihawk’s movents were fluid and precise, a testant to his years of training and experience. As we clashed swords, I could sense the strength and focus in each of his strikes. His armant Haki, was formidable, evident in the way his attacks pushed against my own defenses with incredible force.
Despite his skill, I maintained my composure, relying on my own armant Haki, to reinforce my swordsmanship. Each parry and counter was infused with Haki, creating sparks of intense energy whenever our blades t. It was a dance of wills as much as it was a physical battle.
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