The feeling was all too familiar—
That black and red lightning made one shudder involuntarily.
"Hey Mihawk, aren’t you the type who loves doing normal attacks? Then how about you try taking one of my normal attacks?"
There was a teasing tone buried in the calm words, leaving Mihawk a bit puzzled.
"Normal attacks"? What was that supposed to an?
He was just a pure swordsman—nothing more, nothing less. Not good with words, that’s all.
To him, that was normal.
After all, what serious swordsman would waste ti naming flashy moves instead of honing his blade?
As he looked at Orin, whose body was now enveloped in a black and red radiance so dense it nearly materialized, Mihawk’s long-trained battle instincts suddenly flared wildly.
A cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
This was...
Orin grinned with a twisted smirk. An explosive force burst from beneath his feet as he lunged forward.
In an instant, the ground across several dozen ters crumbled from the sheer force of his launch!
CLANG—
Ace, now wreathed in black and red lightning, slashed down toward Mihawk with a force like the heavens being torn asunder.
Mihawk quickly shifted to the side, lowering his center of gravity as he unleashed a full-powered slash of his own toward Orin.
But the result...
Was far from ideal.
SHHHK—
Blood red splashed across Mihawk’s entire field of vision.
At so point, the black blade Yoru had been flung into the air, spinning several tis before embedding into the earth.
Its hilt still trembled violently—proof of the imnse force it had just endured.
"Why didn’t you dodge?"
Orin retracted the Conqueror’s Haki Infusion from his blade, his face clouded as he stared at the young man before him.
That clash—after knocking Yoru away—Orin had clearly held back. He hadn’t been aiming to kill Mihawk.
But this kid...
Had crashed into his blade’s lingering force like a reckless fool.
"Dodge?"
Mihawk staggered, then dropped to one knee, blood seeping continuously from his chest.
Yet there was no trace of pain on his face—only unwavering resolve. His hawk-like eyes knew no fear:
"I’m the man who will beco the greatest swordsman in the world. Why would I retreat from soone else’s blade out of fear?"
"Even if it’s your blade, Orin— That’s still impossible!!!"
...
But no matter how inspiring the words—
A loss was still a loss.
Against Orin’s full-force strike, whether in Haki, swordsmanship, or power...
Mihawk had been outmatched on all fronts. Defeat was inevitable.
For all the years he’d been active, he had cut down countless fad swordsn.
Until he t this man.
Orin.
It was only when Yoru flew from his grip that Mihawk finally understood how vast this world truly was.
That such monsters really existed...
...
After the battle – Sabaody Archipelago,
Red-light district, top floor of a private bar suite.
"...That final move of yours—was it called Divine Departure?"
Mihawk, shirtless and bloodied, sat back on a plush, luxurious sofa. Several won in nurse uniforms, clearly from the red-light district, were wrapping his upper body with oversized bandages.
But he paid them no mind at all.
His hawk-like eyes were locked onto Orin sitting across from him—as if he were the real beauty in the room.
Orin, anwhile, didn’t even notice.
He was still lounging comfortably, letting a petite maid massage his battle-weary muscles.
At Mihawk’s question, Orin finally opened his eyes and t those sharp hawk eyes.
"...Nah. That was just a casual slash." Orin rolled his eyes, denying it.
"..."
Mihawk fell silent, unwilling to argue with Orin.
But deep down, he could tell—it was exactly the sa as that slash in Loguetown. That suffocating sensation... as if no one in the world could take that hit.
"...That black and red lightning—was that your Devil Fruit ability?"
"You really wanna know?"
"Yeah."
"Then beg ." Orin smirked wickedly.
Seeing that smug look, even soone as composed as Mihawk couldn’t help but form a pound symbol on his forehead.
He closed his eyes in irritation, no longer looking at him.
Orin finally relented with a chuckle.
"Alright, alright. Don’t be so petty... That was just a use of Conqueror’s Haki Infusion—wrapping it around the blade. Since I said I wouldn’t use my Devil Fruit, I didn’t."
Hearing this, Mihawk reopened his eyes.
Orin smirked secretly.
What a tsundere, this guy...
Mihawk ignored the look in Orin’s eyes. Instead, his fighting spirit only grew fiercer as he looked at Orin seriously and said:
"Soday, I’ll grow strong enough to overco that move. But until then... Let travel with you, Orin!"
To this, Orin simply gave a light chuckle and nodded.
"Sure~ I believe you can."
Actually, Orin knew quite a bit about the man nad Dracule Mihawk.
Looking at the stern but still slightly naïve young Mihawk before him, Orin understood—
At this point in ti, he likely hadn’t yet been betrayed or hurt deeply by the Marines.
(PS: This is based on what Oda ntioned in SBS Volu 108)
In the future, he’d choose a life like Crocodile—hiding under Buggy’s na and searching for a peaceful land where no one would disturb him.
Probably for the sa reason—
He hadn’t yet reached the point of loneliness, nor the loss of faith in humanity.
In a way, Orin had saved him.
Even though Mihawk didn’t know it, the favor he owed Orin—
Was far heavier than what he owed Doflamingo.
So then—
He’d just repay it with a lifeti.
As Mihawk stiffened slightly while sipping red wine, he glanced toward Orin’s teasing smile.
His eyelid twitched.
He had a strong feeling that guy was thinking sothing bad again.
A powerful... yet strange person.
...
In the days that followed, Orin didn’t bother stirring up any more chaos.
There weren’t any particularly notable places left to check off his list.
He spent most of his ti with Mihawk—training on deserted islands, dueling, and enjoying himself in the red-light district.
Slowly, the future world’s greatest swordsman, who had always been a lone wolf, began to enjoy this way of life.
Even though he lost every duel, his growth was phenonal.
Two years flew by just like that.
And without Orin’s interference,
This sea—which never knew peace—continued to experience plenty of turbulence.
...
On a ruined island, on the peaks of several flattened mountains, two figures—one sitting, one standing.
"It’s about ti, huh, Mihawk."
The seated youth was seventeen years old now. Standing over three ters tall, with long hair and striking features, he looked to the white-shirted young man sheathing his blade beside him.
"Yeah... it is."
"Then—let’s set sail. Let’s go see how this era is starting to spiral out of control. I bet it’s gonna be a blast~"
Orin wore a mischievous grin.
Even Mihawk couldn’t help but break a sweat at that look.
"I wonder if the world’s gotten more interesting. Or if it’s already forgotten about , this relic of a bygone age?"
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