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Chapter 101 - Chapter 101: Sorry About This, Hawk-Eye

Hawk-Eye stood at the bow of his ship, his black coat billowing in the sea breeze. His posture was as sharp as a drawn blade. With his right hand pressed over his chest, he performed the formal salute of a swordsman.

It was both a gesture of respect to a worthy opponent and the declaration of a challenge.

Rett tilted his head. Man, when you're this polite, it makes me feel a little awkward about what I'm about to do to you.

For the briefest moment, Rett's almost non-existent conscience stirred… and then vanished just as quickly.

Back in the original timeline, Hawk-Eye's duel with Zoro had gone viral in Rett's old world. The way he had solemnly spoken Zoro's full name, "Roronoa Zoro," was so iconic that clips of it had flooded every short video platform.

Heh, that was such a hype moment.

"Sir Rett." Hawk-Eye's voice was deep and steady. "Dracule Mihawk. I ask for your guidance."

On deck, Rett raised an eyebrow. This young man, destined to become the world's greatest swordsman, wasn't just burning with fighting spirit. No, what shone in his eyes was something purer the unyielding yearning of a swordsman to reach the absolute peak.

"Interesting." Rett rose lazily from his deck chair. "I've heard your black blade can cut through steel?"

Mihawk's fingers brushed the hilt of Yoru, his golden hawk-like eyes narrowing. "If you permit… I would rather test whether it can cut through this blood mist."

The two made their way to a deserted island. Rett had no intention of letting him scratch the Nirvana's hull.

Mihawk's pupils constricted as he drew Yoru in one swift motion.

"Shhhk!"

A jet-black slash ripped through the ground, slicing straight toward Rett's throat.

But Rett didn't move. His wrist flicked, and with a sharp "clang!" the deadly strike was deflected… by a table knife.

The world fell silent.

Mihawk's brow furrowed for the first time. "...What?"

"Sorry," Rett said with mock gravity, "I couldn't find a smaller piece of cutlery."

(Ha! There it is. I said it first, so it's officially my original line! No copyright strike here!)

(Hehehe, finally got to tick off that meme moment, nice.)

Mihawk's strikes came one after another, as fierce as a storm.

But Rett? He might as well have been strolling through a garden. His little table knife went ding ding dang dang, deflecting each strike with casual ease. Sparks of colliding steel flared brilliantly in the dusk.

To put it bluntly, Rett fighting Mihawk right now was about as easy as Mihawk fighting Zoro in canon. Pure light work.

"Your sword isn't fast enough, kid." Rett bit into an apple he'd casually pulled from his coat pocket. Crunch. "Focus when you swing, will you?"

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve like it was nothing.

The air around Yoru grew sharper, Mihawk pouring more power into his blade.

But Rett looked dissatisfied. "Not gonna call out your moves? Seriously? This is a shonen manga, man! If you don't yell out your attack names, it makes me look like the weirdo when I do it."

Unable to resist, Rett jumped lightly and sang out, "Told you, you can't hit me~!"

When Mihawk lunged again, Rett's smirk faded. Blood mist coiled around the table knife. He sidestepped a slash and flipped his wrist, pressing the knife's tip against Mihawk's chest.

"See the difference yet?"

Time seemed to freeze.

The knife point hovered just against Mihawk's coat. His golden pupils trembled violently.

The swordsmanship he took such pride in… felt like a child's plaything before this man.

Good thing I can't read minds, Rett thought. Otherwise I'd hear him crying about the gap in levels, and I'd be over here laughing like Enel with a busted radio.

"I admit…" Mihawk's voice was hoarse but unwavering, "I am not strong enough. Not yet."

He stood tall once more, sheathing Yoru. "Please, show me your true strength. Even if it kills me, I won't regret it."

Rett chuckled.

He drew his obsidian-black sword, Bloodtide. "Fine. Let's dance."

Of course, he wasn't going to end things anticlimactically. The guy had come all this way it would've been rude not to give him the show he wanted.

That was Rett for you. Always a man of principle.

Mihawk drew Yoru again, no wasted motions this time. No fancy prelude, no probing. Just pure swordsmanship.

Their blades collided in a single earth-shaking clash.

"CLANG!"

The impact shattered the sea surface for hundreds of meters around them, sending towering waves into the sky.

"This strike," Rett said, his voice cutting through the raging storm of sword aura, "has the strength of a future Warlord of the Sea."

Blood seeped from Mihawk's palm, but his eyes burned sharper than ever. "Far from enough."

His second strike came at an angle so bizarre it seemed to bend reality, Yoru's black edge aiming for Rett's throat.

"Beautiful!" Rett roared with laughter, knocking the blade aside with a precise flick of his hilt. "But a swordsman's true edge…"

The blood mist surged violently.

"…is used like this! Mist God Style: Annihilation!"

Countless crimson blades materialized, each sharp enough to rend iron. Mihawk retreated rapidly, Yoru weaving a shield of black steel, but even so, several blood blades sliced his coat.

Now, you might ask "Hey Rett, aren't you cheating by using your Devil Fruit?"

But here's the thing: his fruit and his swordsmanship were always designed to work in harmony. Every blood blade was an extension of his sword technique. Without his deep mastery of the blade, taught to him by Pirate King Roger and Dark King Rayleigh, those attacks would be impossible.

When the mist dispersed, Rett's sword hovered three inches from Mihawk's throat.

"Surrender?"

The young swordsman's chest heaved, sweat and blood dripping down his chin.

But his golden eyes blazed even brighter.

"Today, I am defeated." He sheathed Yoru and bowed once more. "But one day… my blade will reach you. And replace you."

The sea wind tore at his tattered cloak, his black blade gleaming beneath the dying sun.

Rett called after him as he leapt back to his little boat. "Hey! Next time bring a good bottle of wine!"

Mihawk didn't turn, just raised a hand in farewell.

Rett froze. Wait… why does it feel like he just out-cooled me?

(Rett: slaps thighs furiously in frustration)

Damn it, I should've been the one to walk off dramatically!

The little boat carried the future legend into the dusk.

Tesoro appeared at the rail. "You seem to admire him."

"Do I? Who knows." Rett shrugged, heading back aboard.

The truth was, he was laying the groundwork for the future. Because one day, when his dear Zoro faced Mihawk and shouted 

"I will defeat you and become the world's greatest swordsman!"

Mihawk would look at Zoro, sigh heavily, and think:

Compared to Rett, I am but a firefly before the moon. No matter how I struggle, I will never surpass him.

(Rett: cue maniacal laughter, basking in the imagined scene)

As for the "little birds" like Doflamingo? Best to let them grow for now.

If Rett went after them too soon, all he'd get was loose change and Enel's electricity bill wasn't cheap. Better to let the flamingo strut a little, and if things lined up later, fold him into the crew. If not, well… at least Rett would inherit his business empire.

Truly, he was a commercial genius.

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