The warm, golden glow of the setting sun painted the entire villa, creating a stark contrast to the desolate training island. This place was brimming with life.
As Kyle and his group stepped through the main gate, the sweet aroma of black tea and freshly baked biscuits wafted towards them.
"Welcome back, Lord Kyle," a guard in a black suit said with a bow. His face, however, held a hint of solemnity.
"Oh? What's with the serious face?" Kyle asked casually as he carefully handed a nearly asleep Perona from his shoulder to Sakura. Sakura and Rin silently took the little girl, one holding her while the other gently removed her sand-covered shoes.
"It's like this, Lord Kyle," the guard reported concisely. "For the past few days, a strange young swordsman has been lingering near the villa."
"A swordsman?" Kyle raised an eyebrow, taking the towel Rin handed him. "You see people like that every day on the Sabaody Archipelago. Just send him on his way."
"No, this one… he's different," the guard said, his expression growing more serious. "He asked for you by name, wanting to challenge you. I told him you weren't here, but he shows no signs of leaving." The guard paused before adding, "And he carries a… gigantic black blade on his back."
Kyle's movements halted. Young swordsman, intense aura, giant black blade… The keywords clicked together in his mind. Could it be? It was said that a young Dracule Mihawk, much like Zoro in the future, traveled the seas challenging famous sword masters on his quest to become the World's Strongest.
"Interesting," Kyle said, a playful smile spreading across his lips. "I'll go take a look."
"Lord Kyle, do you need me to—"
"No need," Kyle waved his hand, winking at Sakura and Rin. "Just prepare the afternoon tea. We might have a guest."
With that, he walked out of the villa alone. On the forest path outside, the setting sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Kyle walked at a leisurely pace and soon spotted a figure leaning against a nearby wall.
It was a young man dressed in a unique black and red open-front shirt. He stood with his arms crossed, his posture seemingly relaxed, yet his entire being radiated an aloof aura that warned others to keep their distance. Most striking of all was the enormous, cross-shaped hilt on his back, its size completely disproportionate to his frame. It was the hilt of a sword—a pitch-black, Supreme Grade Blade of astonishing length.
The man's face was a stoic mask, but his eyes, as sharp and piercing as a hawk's, were fixed on the villa, as if they could see right through the walls to find his target.
Ah, the Hawk-Eyed Man himself, Kyle thought. Not yet the World's Strongest Swordsman, but on his way. The future Warlord, and one of Buggy's future protectors. What a long title.
Kyle's footsteps broke the silence. Dracule Mihawk's head snapped in his direction, his hawk-like eyes instantly locking onto him.
"Aaron Kyle?" His voice was deep and magnetic.
"You're quite rude, young man. You should call me 'senior'," Kyle said, stopping a few feet away with his usual friendly smile. "Do you need something?"
"I have heard your name," Mihawk said, slowly straightening up. An invisible sharpness began to emanate from him. "You cleaved Marineford." His gaze burned with intense fighting spirit. "I want to witness that power with my own eyes!"
When Mihawk had seen the newspaper report of Kyle's single attack piercing through Marineford, he knew he had found another mountain to climb on his path to the top. As a former member of the Roger Pirates, you must have learned from Roger and Rayleigh themselves! he thought. Let us have a true duel of swords!
"Fighting is so boring, and it's almost dark," Kyle replied, pointing back toward the villa. "Why don't you come in for a cup of tea? It's quite good."
For the first time, a flicker of genuine astonishment crossed Mihawk's sharp features. He had imagined countless ways this meeting could go—a tense verbal standoff, an immediate clash of swords—but he had never once considered that the man would invite him for tea.
Is this disregard? Or supreme confidence? He silently studied Kyle, trying to see through the smile. But Kyle's gaze was clear and candid, holding nothing but a pure, simple invitation.
Mihawk was silent for a moment, and the sharp edge to his aura slowly receded.
"...Alright." To his own surprise, he agreed.
When Kyle led Mihawk into the villa, the atmosphere in the living room instantly became a bit awkward. Sakura and Rin were placing exquisite tea snacks on the table. They both froze when they saw the unfamiliar man following Kyle inside. Feeling the faint, icy sharpness coming from him, they instinctively moved a little closer to their master.
"Don't be nervous, he's a guest," Kyle said with a reassuring smile. He then introduced him generously, "This is Mr. Dracule Mihawk, a practitioner of the Little Knife Style… ahem, I mean, a great swordsman."
"Mr. Mihawk, hello," Sakura and Rin said in unison, reverting to their professional maid demeanor and giving him a slight bow.
Perona, who had just woken up, rubbed her eyes and curiously poked her head out from behind a sofa cushion. She looked at the man whose eyes were even scarier than Moria's and whispered to Rin, "Sister Rin, that person is so strange…"
Mihawk's perpetually expressionless face seemed to develop a very subtle crack. He looked around. The villa's decor was luxurious but tasteful. The scent of desserts filled the air. Two adorable maids and a little pink-haired girl… this was completely at odds with what he had expected. Where are the training dummies? The weapon racks? he thought. Is this really the home of the man who shook the world at Marineford?
"Please, have a seat," Kyle said, gesturing to the sofa.
Mihawk sat down, his posture ramrod straight, like a sword ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. He seemed entirely out of place in the lazy, relaxed atmosphere of the room. Sakura skillfully poured black tea for them both, its rich aroma filling the air.
"Try it," Kyle said, taking a comfortable sip from his own cup. "Caron went to great lengths to get this top-grade blend from the West Blue."
Mihawk silently took a sip. The clear, fragrant tea was indeed excellent, but that wasn't why he was here. He put down the cup, his hawk eyes once again fixed on Kyle.
"Mr. Kyle, I mean no offense," he said, his tone firm and direct. "I am simply pursuing the pinnacle of swordsmanship. To do that, I must challenge the strongest in the world. Your name echoes across the sea. That is why I have come." He paused, enunciating each word clearly. "Please, fight me."
The air in the living room seemed to freeze. Sakura and Rin stopped what they were doing, looking nervously at Kyle. Even Perona seemed to sense the serious atmosphere and hugged her doll tightly, not daring to make a sound.
Kyle set down his teacup. His finger tapped lightly on the rim, making a crisp "tap, tap" sound. "Challenge me? Sure," he said, his answer clear and decisive.
A flicker of light appeared in Mihawk's eyes. It's time! Draw your sword! My Yoru is already thirsty for a real battle!
"However…" Kyle's tone shifted. He leaned back into the soft sofa and crossed his legs. A hint of cunning flickered in his golden eyes. "I have one condition."
"I will accept any condition!" Mihawk declared passionately, his fighting spirit overflowing. "I would stake my life on a fight with you!"
"It won't come to that," Kyle said, holding up a single finger. He spoke lazily, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Become my crew, Dracule Mihawk!"
"???"
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