With every clash of their blades, Mihawk's surprise grew.
He had initially dismissed this Marine Captain from the quiet East Blue as just another swordsman, hungry for a reputation.
'No, that's not right,' Mihawk corrected himself. 'This man has no reputation to speak of at all.'
His first impression had been of a thoroughly corrupt officer, the kind who bribed superiors and consorted with pirates. He remembered their first meeting, the way Dante had slipped a card into Garp's hand, the way he'd sent the Hero of the Marines off for a foot massage with that so-called East Blue Overlord at a place called Romance Dawn. 'What kind of proper Marine captain does something like that?'
Forget chasing fame, Mihawk had never even heard of a swordsman of this caliber in the East Blue. Of course, he didn't care about the dirty dealings of the Marines. The only thing that held his interest was the sword.
After parrying another series of strikes, Mihawk looked up. The anger that had been in his eyes since Dante weathered his first slash was gone, replaced by a sharp, hawk-like focus. "I apologize for my earlier rudeness, Captain Dante," he said, his voice level. "You are worthy of that blade."
He had never encountered a style quite like it, fluid and gentle as a stream one moment, then relentless as a torrent the next. Though he had crossed blades with countless masters, a new feeling stirred within him.
'The Hero of the Marines was right,' Mihawk thought, as he continued," You have exceeded my expectations."
It wasn't just the man's corruption, but his swordsmanship, too. Even the very nature of this duel was something he had not anticipated.
"Mihawk pulled back! He stopped!" a voice boomed from a distant stage, amplified by a Den Den Mushi. "The World's Strongest Swordsman acknowledges him! He acknowledges our captain's skill!"
On the stage, a man held the Megaphone Den Den Mushi, shouting with excitement.
"And what about our captain? He arranged this grand spectacle so all of you could witness a duel between masters firsthand! This is the mutual respect of the world's greatest swordsmen!"
He then passed the Den Den Mushi to a man munching on bread with some tangerine jam on it.
"And now, for a word from our special guest, Vice Admiral Garp! Sir, what are your thoughts?"
"Yeah, yeah, you said it all just fine," Garp said cheerfully, still munching. "So, about that special gift you mentioned... when do I get it? Bwahahaha, I can't wait!"
"It's already been prepared, sir! It will be delivered as soon as this is over!"
"Bwahahaha, is that so? Then could you get an old man some more snacks?"
"..."
'Shouldn't that bribe-taking Vice Admiral be at Romance Dawn?' Mihawk wondered. 'I thought he wasn't interested. When did he get here?'
His grip on his sword tightened. Dante's strength may have been unexpected, but one thing remained constant: the growing urge to cut the man down. And as if that wasn't enough...
"A big thank you to the Hero of the Marines for his commentary!" the announcer continued. "Now let's turn to our other host." He moved the Den Den Mushi toward a man sitting with his arms crossed and a serious look on his face. "Captain Mock, the East Blue Overlord himself, with his vast experience in public speaking! What insights can you offer?"
"The Boss is the strongest!" Mock declared, his eyes wide. He sat there, an imposing figure with a solemn look on his face. "Dracula is strong, too, but I believe the Boss is the strongest!"
With that, he stood up, raised a fist, and shouted to the crowd below, "Go, Boss!"
Mihawk's expression soured. 'Didn't he say he wasn't interested either? When did he get here?'
He had fought countless duels, but none had ever been this absurd. He felt his fighting spirit soar even as he desperately wished for it all to be over. 'And I told him not to call me Dracula.'
His patience gone, Mihawk sent a slash flying toward the stage. The fierce blade of wind tore through the air, even more menacing than the one he'd aimed at Dante. The announcer shrieked and dove behind Garp, who promptly shoved him aside.
But it wasn't over.
"Mihawk seems to be a bit emotional, attacking the announcer!" the man, Genry, shouted, having recovered. "As your host, I urge Mihawk to control himself. Friendship first, dueling second." He turned to Mock, who was also getting back to his feet. "Your thoughts, Captain Mock?"
"The Boss is the strongest! Go, Boss!"
'These people...' Mihawk, resisting the urge to send another slash their way, took a deep breath. He turned to Dante, his voice cool. "Is this your doing?"
"It's a good opportunity for everyone to learn," Dante said with a slight smile before adding seriously, "Don't worry, this is only for internal study. It won't be leaked."
'That wasn't what I was asking!' Mihawk's eyelid twitched. He swung his longsword once more.
Instantly, the announcer's voice erupted again.
"And they've begun again! After a brief clash of words and wills, the duel is back on! As expected of the World's Strongest Swordsman! A single swing that seems to tear space itself apart! Let's hear it for Mihawk!"
Genry's voice swelled with excitement. "But our captain is not to be outdone! He blocked it! He blocked that terrifying attack! Let's cheer for our captain!"
The crowd roared in approval. For the marine cadets watching, it was an unforgettable lesson.
"Now, let's ask a fellow swordswoman for her opinion. Instructor Kuina, what are your thoughts?"
Watching from the stands, Kuina was cheering for her senior while studying every move. She had seen him fight an admiral not long ago and had been stunned by his skill, but this pure duel between swordsmen made her acutely aware of her own shortcomings.
'Is this the power of a true master swordsman?' she thought, her shoulders slumping. 'I'm still so far behind.'
But she remembered what her senpai had told her last night, to watch closely. She'd wondered what he meant, but now she understood. Her dejection vanished, replaced by resolve. She raised her fist and shouted with all her might, her voice clear and determined. "Don't worry, Senpai! I won't give up! I'll catch up to you, so please, wait for me!"
The raw determination in her voice made even Mihawk pause. He glanced at Kuina on the stage, his eyes lingering for a moment on the white-sheathed sword at her hip.
"Wado Ichimonji?"
"My kouhai," Dante said. "Not bad, is she?"
"It seems this trip to the East Blue has been worthwhile after all," Mihawk admitted with a slight nod. A swordsman who could witness such a fight and still reaffirm their own path deserved respect. He pursed his lips. "Fine. I won't slash at the stage again."
The words had barely left his mouth.
"Such a determined heart!" Genry exclaimed. "An inspiration to us all! Now, back to Vice Admiral Garp for his thoughts!"
"Interesting! This vacation is turning out to be very interesting!" Garp boomed, stuffing his mouth with snacks. "I should get Sengoku to organize things like this in the future! Bwahahaha!"
Another slash flew toward the stage. Mihawk turned back to Dante, his face grim. "One strike to decide this. What do you say?"
His fighting spirit was at its peak, but his patience was gone. Right now, he just wanted to go up there and cut someone.
"That works for me." Dante looked at him in surprise, having expected this to drag on. 'He's more bashful than I thought,' he mused. 'Actually gets shy in front of a crowd.'
Seeing the corrupt Marine agree so readily, Mihawk felt a sliver of relief. Luckily for him, he had no idea what Dante was thinking, or he might have been forced to fight for three days.
He sheathed his Black Blade, Yoru, and his focus sharpened. A fierce aura began to radiate from him as he prepared to unleash his final, strongest attack-
"Wait a moment."
Halted again by the captain, Mihawk stopped. Before he could ask what was wrong this time, Dante spoke.
"This is Shusui," he explained, holding the blade horizontally before him in a formal presentation. "One of the 21 Great Grade Swords, once wielded by the samurai Ryuma of Wano. It is said to have slain a dragon." He paused. "Now, it is mine."
Before Mihawk could respond, Genry's voice exploded from the speakers.
"The most exciting moment has arrived! Our captain reveals his blade, demonstrating the highest etiquette of a swordsman's duel! This is what it means to be a master swordsman!"
Mihawk's eyelid twitched. 'What the hell is swordsman's etiquette?' He just wanted this to be over.
"And what of Mihawk? Is he unaware of this custom? Or does he look down on our captain? No matter..." Genry raised a fist. "Let's cheer for Mihawk! Shout his name with me!"
"Mihawk!" the crowd roared.
"Louder! MIHAWK!"
The chants echoed across the grounds.
Mihawk's expression was an impassive mask. He took a deep breath, and through gritted teeth, he raised his own greatsword.
"Yoru," he growled. "The world's strongest black blade."
Without another word, his entire demeanor shifted. He became like an unsheathed sword himself, radiating a terrifying, formless power as he swung his blade at Dante without the slightest hesitation.
A terrifying wave of pressure swept forward, so immense it seemed the very sky would split apart.
After releasing the slash, Mihawk didn't even watch it connect. He turned, raising his greatsword toward the stage, his usual cool demeanor replaced by a chilling focus.
'You,' he thought, his focus fixed on the announcer. 'You're the one who wouldn't just shut up.'
===============
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