Mihawk's voice came out rough.
"Is it because of... those eyes?" He couldn't look away from them. "What are they?"
Kai blinked.
Then smiled faintly, pointing to his own transformed pupils.
"Rinne Sharingan." His tone was casual—like he was discussing the weather. "They can see through and replicate any technique or skill an opponent uses."
No point hiding it. The secret was already out.
But his words hit Mihawk like a lightning strike.
"See through... and replicate... everything?" Mihawk's voice cracked. "How can eyes like that possibly exist?!"
His mind rejected it. Screamed that it was impossible.
But the evidence was right in front of him. He'd just fought himself for dozens of exchanges.
For Devil Fruit users, maybe this wasn't catastrophic. Copy all you want—you can't replicate someone's power source.
But for a swordsman?
This was death.
Every technique exposed. Every weakness laid bare. Every move he'd spent decades perfecting—stolen in an instant and turned against him.
Mihawk wanted to throw Yoru into the ocean.
What's the point of continuing?
Kai's voice carried clearly across the training ground—not shouting, but not quiet either.
The Warlords heard every word.
The Marines heard every word.
"Ahhhh~" Hancock clasped her hands to her face, eyes going dreamy. "Truly worthy of the man I've chosen. He really is this incredible."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Crocodile's cigar nearly fell from his mouth. "How is that possible?!"
Kuma's eyes flickered behind his glasses. Then darkened with concern.
A Marine with this kind of power. Not good for the Revolutionary Army. Not good at all.
"Admiral White Dragon is insane!"
"He might be stronger than the Fleet Admiral!"
"Strongest Admiral in history—no question!"
The Marines erupted again. Though after everything they'd witnessed today, the shock was starting to feel almost normal.
Fleet Admiral's Office
Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru stared at each other.
Finally, Garp broke the silence.
"Uh... maybe the kid ate an Eye-Eye Fruit?"
Black lines appeared on Sengoku's forehead.
"An Eye-Eye Fruit that controls flames?!" His voice rose dangerously. "Garp! Could you please use your brain before speaking?! If there was a Brain-Brain Fruit, I'd force-feed it to you myself!"
"Ahahahaha..." Garp scratched his head sheepishly.
Tsuru's voice cut through the tension.
"Actually, even the Flame-Flame Fruit theory is just our speculation." Her tone was thoughtful. "Kai never confirmed his flames came from a Devil Fruit. We never asked. And more importantly—"
She paused.
"—did you notice the sword that appeared in his hand? He's never carried a blade before."
Garp might have missed it. But Sengoku?
"Mm." His frown deepened. "We'll have to question him after the battle ends."
Though at this point, Sengoku had zero doubt about the outcome.
Kai would win.
Another Office
Akainu's teeth ground together hard enough to crack.
"How is this possible?!" Jealousy burned in his eyes. "What kind of Devil Fruit did that brat eat?! Damn it..."
He didn't want to admit it.
But the truth was undeniable—Kai's displayed strength already exceeded his own. And the kid looked completely relaxed. Not even close to full power.
Kai Mitarashi...
The name tasted like ash.
...is too strong.
Training Ground
Powerlessness flooded Mihawk's chest.
But he was a swordsman.
He would not—could not—end a fight before reaching its conclusion. Even knowing the outcome. Even facing impossible odds.
His pride wouldn't allow it.
Both hands gripped Yoru. He charged forward again.
Leaped high, bringing the black blade down with every ounce of strength he possessed—
Kai caught it one-handed.
Ryūjin Jakka didn't even tremble. The devastating strike that could split mountains just... stopped.
Then Kai moved.
The same techniques. The same angles. Perfect mirrors.
CLANG CLANG CLANG
Each collision sent shockwaves up Mihawk's arms. His palms went numb. His muscles screamed.
How?
Kai looked thin. Almost frail. But the strength hidden in that frame was monstrous.
"Is this the level of the world's greatest swordsman?" Kai's voice was almost disappointed. "Nothing special. Mihawk—if you can't defeat yourself, you'll never advance beyond where you are now."
The words struck like a physical blow.
Mihawk's entire body went rigid.
Defeat... myself?
The concept crashed through his mind like a tidal wave.
Of course.
If he could surpass his current self—if he could overcome his own techniques—wouldn't that prove he'd grown stronger?
Laughter burst from his throat.
"AHAHAHAHA!"
It started as a chuckle. Built into full-throated roaring that echoed across the training ground. When it finally faded, Mihawk slowly—deliberately—sheathed Yoru.
He faced Kai directly. Back straight. Eyes clear.
"I've lost." His voice was steady. Accepting. "My life is yours to take. But—" His hand rested on Yoru's hilt. "—if you're going to finish this, do it from the front. A wound on the back is a swordsman's shame."
Kai's eyebrow rose.
The words triggered a memory—Zoro in the East Blue, facing impossible odds, making the exact same declaration.
Like mentor, like student.
A smile curved his lips.
"Killing you would be a waste." He raised Ryūjin Jakka slowly. "So instead—"
The blade lifted.
Pointed directly at Mihawk's chest.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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