[A/N: I am trying to make my fanfic not exact copy of one piece Canon and I want to know how is going in all of your perspective]
Chapter 51 — The Black Blade's Shadow
The sea had gone silent. Not even the gulls cried as the air grew heavy with a presence unlike anything everyone had ever felt. From the shattered wreckage of Krieg's flagship, a small coffin-shaped boat drifted in — and upon it stood a man in black. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his sharp features, and on his back rested the largest sword Sunny had ever laid eyes on.
Dracule Mihawk. The man known as the greatest swordsman in the world.
The survivors of Krieg's crew gasped and scrambled, their courage vanishing like smoke. Krieg himself cursed and tried to rally them. "Run! Get away from him!"
But it was too late.
With a single, almost casual swing of his blade, Mihawk's black sword Yoru carved through the fleeing pirate ships. The sea itself seemed to split, waves crashing outward as Krieg's men screamed. The ships shattered in halves, men thrown overboard, blood mixing with saltwater. None survived the stroke.
One strike… and an entire fleet is gone.
Mihawk didn't so much as glance at the carnage. His golden eyes turned, instead, toward the deck of the Baratie—toward Zoro.
"You," Mihawk said quietly, his voice carrying as though the ocean itself bore it. "You are the one making noise… the one who dares to brandish swords with ambition."
Zoro stepped forward, face pale but eyes blazing with determination. He raised all three swords into his stance. "Roronoa Zoro. My dream is to become the world's greatest swordsman. If I cannot surpass you, then that dream is worthless."
Mihawk studied him for a moment. Then, with a faint smile, he drew… a small cross-shaped dagger that hung around his neck.
Lucy's jaw dropped. "Oi! What the hell?! He's fighting Zoro with a pocketknife!?"
"Don't mock me!" Zoro roared, charging forward. "Santoryu… Oni Giri!"
The three blades slashed down with devastating force—only to be caught, effortlessly, on that tiny cross-knife. Mihawk hadn't even shifted his stance. He looked almost bored.
Sunny's sharp martial eyes tracked the duel. No wasted movement. Every angle precise. He isn't just defending—he's teaching Zoro his insignificance.
Zoro pressed on, strike after strike, sweat dripping, veins straining. But every blow was parried with a single flick of Mihawk's wrist.
"Why do you falter before a small blade?" Mihawk asked calmly. "Draw your full strength. Or do you fear the weight of my true sword?"
Zoro snarled. "Don't underestimate me!" He pushed off, leaping high into his finishing move. "Three Sword Style—Tatsu Maki!"
The whirlwind slash cut through the air, tearing up planks of the Baratie's deck. Mihawk raised his dagger once more—then, finally, sighed.
"I see. Very well."
With deliberate grace, he sheathed the tiny cross and reached for the massive blade upon his back. Yoru, the Black Sword, shimmered in the sun as he drew it free. The air seemed to grow heavier; even Lucy swallowed nervously.
The clash was instantaneous. One strike. One impossibility.
Zoro's swords shattered beneath the force. The black edge carved across his chest in a clean, lethal cut. Blood sprayed, and Zoro fell to his knees, gasping, refusing to collapse.
Lucy's scream tore from her throat. "ZORO!!"
But Mihawk lowered his blade, eyes narrowing with faint approval. "You have courage… and pride. Enough to face death head on."
Zoro gritted his teeth, forcing his battered body upright. He turned his head—not toward Mihawk, but toward Lucy. His voice cracked but rang clear.
"Lucy… from this moment on… I swear to you… I will never lose again! To anyone!"
Lucy's eyes burned with tears, but her grin was fierce. "You'd better not, or I'll kick your ass in the afterlife!"
With that final vow, Zoro collapsed, blood staining the deck.
Sunny was already there.
"Kuso…" Sunny hissed, kneeling beside him. His hands pressed into Zoro's skin with pinpoint precision. A series of rapid taps—knocking points along Zoro's chest, neck, and abdomen. Blood flow slowed, pain dulled, nerves controlled.
Zoro jerked, groaning. "W-what are you—"
"Shut up," Sunny snapped. "If you want to die, do it later. I'm keeping you alive." His strikes were clean, fluid, a blend of Bang's martial fluidity and Jirō's surgical precision. Each movement a dance between science and instinct.
Within moments, Zoro's bleeding eased, his breath steadied. He was still unconscious, but alive.
Sunny exhaled, sweat on his brow. That was close… too close.
Mihawk watched silently, then finally sheathed Yoru. "Live, swordsman. Grow stronger. When you can reach this blade, seek me again." His eyes swept over Sunny for the briefest instant, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips. "And you… you have dangerous eyes. A fighter who stands outside the sword's path, yet walks beside it. Curious."
With that, he stepped onto his coffin boat. In moments, he was gone, swallowed by the sea's horizon.
The silence left behind was broken by Lucy's voice. "Zoro's alive, right?! Sunny!"
Sunny sighed, sitting back. "He'll live. Thanks to his stubbornness… and a little knocking magic."
Lucy knelt, clutching Zoro's hand, her smile trembling. "You idiot… don't scare me like that again."
The crew gathered close—Sanji muttering curses under his breath, Nami relieved but quietly shaken. The vow Zoro had made hung in the air, binding them all.
For the first time, Sunny felt the weight of it too. Zoro's dream wasn't just his own anymore. It belonged to all of them.
And as the waves carried Mihawk's shadow into the distance, Sunny knew their journey had only just begun.
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