Mihawk lost!
And not just once—he lost three tis in a row. It was downright tragic.
However, Mihawk refused to accept defeat and challenged Arashi to another three rounds.
The result was obvious—Mihawk lost so badly he began to question his life.
"Again, again!"
"Bring it on!"
Having been crushed every ti by Arashi's "rock," Mihawk was clearly getting desperate. He stood up as well, rolling up his sleeves, shouting excitedly, "Rock-paper-scissors!"
"Hahaha, you lost again."
Seeing Mihawk throw out "paper" once more, Arashi waved his "scissors" and burst out laughing. "You're not very good at this, Mihawk!"
"Again!"
Mihawk grabbed a cup of wine and drained it in one gulp. His face was as red as a baboon's backside as he shouted, "Rock-paper-scissors, damn it!"
Even the words "damn it" slipped out—it was clear just how much Mihawk was doubting his existence at this point.
In the original story, this guy always maintained a cold, domineering persona like a high-and-mighty king. But now, after eting Arashi—this eccentric traveler—he had completely fallen into the pit!
Mihawk and Arashi tirelessly shouted "rock-paper-scissors," with exclamations like "damn it" and "hell" echoing through the night sky. If anyone familiar with Mihawk had seen this, their jaws would have dropped.
Was this really the world's greatest swordsman they knew?
Was this really the cold and aloof Mihawk?
The torrential rain that had lasted the entire night finally subsided. After playing until the latter half of the night, Arashi and Mihawk collapsed onto the table and fell asleep.
The next day.
Mihawk woke up first. Looking at Arashi, who was still snoring away, he blinked in confusion before slightly furrowing his brows.
Inside the cabin, the pungent sll of alcohol still lingered. Empty bottles lay scattered all over the floor.
As for his great black blade, it was in a rather pitiful state—Arashi was sitting on it while sleeping, as if the sword itself was radiating silent resentnt.
Since Arashi was still fast asleep, Mihawk couldn't just take the blade back. He could only sigh helplessly at the "resentful" aura coming from it.
Thinking back to last night's endless rounds of rock-paper-scissors, Mihawk wished he could slap himself.
He, the world's greatest swordsman, had co all the way to the East Blue… only to play rock-paper-scissors all night with a traveler he had just t.
Fine, playing was one thing—but he had lost the entire night. This was… truly embarrassing!
And not only that—he had even been led astray by Arashi, blurting out all kinds of crude words. Just recalling it made his face heat up.
Thankfully, there was no one else around.
Otherwise, the cold and domineering image he had carefully built would have been completely ruined.
With that thought, Mihawk cast a sowhat pained glance at his great black blade, then grabbed a bottle of wine and walked out of the cabin onto the deck.
"Truly fine wine!"
Once on deck, Mihawk downed the entire bottle of freshly opened red wine in one go, then nodded in satisfaction. "This trip to the East Blue… was worth it!"
Of course, Mihawk's journey to the East Blue wasn't just worthwhile because of a single night of drinking.
Although he and Arashi had only t by chance and spent just one night drinking together, Mihawk genuinely felt relaxed and happy in Arashi's company.
This kind of ease and joy was sothing he had never experienced before.
And last night—he hadn't just relaxed, he had completely let himself go. He had cursed freely, thoroughly trampling his identity as a great swordsman into the ground, turning into nothing less than a hooligan.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, Mihawk's eyes widened. In the next instant, he dashed off like a madman, circling the Traveler at incredible speed!
"Th-this…"
After making a full round and returning to the deck, Mihawk held his forehead as dark lines ford across it.
Since he hadn't planned to stay long, he hadn't tied his own small boat to the Traveler. After an entire night of violent storm, his little boat had completely disappeared!
More importantly, the Traveler itself had been blown off course by last night's storm—they had no idea where they were now!
"Mihawk, morning…"
At that mont, Arashi staggered out of the cabin, carrying the black blade on his shoulder, still half-asleep. "Your sword is really heavy… doesn't it tire you out carrying it?"
"If it were , I'd just throw it away…"
Before he could even finish the word "away," Arashi casually flung the black blade out with a swing of his arm. Then, looking completely relaxed, he added, "Wow, that feels much lighter!"
"What the—!!!"
Mihawk had assud Arashi would toss the blade back to him. But when he saw it flying straight toward the sea, his eyes widened instantly. Without hesitation, he leapt off the ship, chasing after the blade!
"Huh?"
"Damn it, damn it, damn it—!"
Seeing Mihawk jump into the sea without hesitation, Arashi blinked blankly at first—then instantly snapped awake. After cursing several tis in shock, he rushed to the edge of the deck.
Leaning over, he saw Mihawk had already grabbed the black blade and fallen into the sea. With cold sweat pouring down his face, Arashi struggled to hold back his laughter as he shouted:
"Mihawk… hey, where's your boat?"
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