Mihawk sat straight at the stern of their small skiff commandeered from Shells Town, with Zora at the bow. The craft was plain: a high forward mast in the center, a white sail swelling with wind, and a bare wooden interior containing only a barrel of fresh water and a coil of rope that slid with the waves.
The silence persisted between them. Their hours at sea had revealed one of his weaknesses: genuine conversation. While he could easily slip into any role required, he refused to rely on pretense in his new life.
Something nagged at him. Here he sat with someone he wanted to understand, yet no conversation had begun. He also needed to discuss important matters with his new crew member, particularly about the Nameless Cloak and his true identity beneath it.
Mihawk leaned sideways and looked around the central mast at her.
She sat back with her hands interlaced behind her head. Her bandana now wrapped around her left bicep, revealing short green hair cut in a chin-length bob – tousled and unkempt, with uneven strands falling across her brow.
Zora had not asked for his name. For him to take off the Nameless Cloak. Where the cloth sack by his leg had come from. Why they stopped at the Island of Rare Animals or why he dropped off a slice of something suspiciously human there. Even where they were headed next. Not a peep.
Of course, that was because she'd dozed off after consuming the food gathered before their departure.
Mihawk upturned his right hand and summoned her Provisional Parchment.
No changes.
How was he to transform it into a Fate Parchment? She had joined him, but perhaps that wasn't enough. If he continued to hide his identity from her, that could serve as a barrier preventing the parchment's evolution. Trust seemed the most logical requirement.
And the present seemed like an ideal time to confirm his theory.
Once he sent back her parchment, he did the same with the Nameless Cloak. But not before standing.
"Awaken, Roronoa Zora."
☠ ☠ ☠
Zora's eyes opened slowly. The gentle rocking of the skiff hadn't changed, nor had the salty sting of the air. But the man at the other end had.
She leaned to her left to get a better view around the mast. He stood at the prow, transformed. A wide-brimmed dark hat decorated with a large plume sat upon his head. Where once a featureless cloak had covered him, now a flowing black coat cascaded down his frame.
As her gaze wandered over his silhouette, her heart-rate quickened at the sight of the sword on his back.
The weapon stretched well over two meters in length, held upside-down against his back by simple loops in his coat, its top rising over a head taller than its bearer. At its very apex, a large round blue cabochon served as the pommel, set into a circular golden mount that crowned the long handle whose surface was wrapped in light-gray bandages.
Below that, the crossguard extended wide to each side, creating a crucifix across his back. Golden and ornate with intricate relief patterns carved into its surface, blue gems adorned the guard with larger stones at the center and smaller ones at each forked end.
Yet what pulled most at her gaze was the blade itself. The single-edged curve of jet-black metal possessed a mirror finish that widened gradually along its length before tapering to a sharp point. The flat back curved upward toward the tip, while a strong greenish sheen ran at intervals along the surface, revealing an irregular double-clove pattern that spoke of a masterwork.
This man is...
As if sensing her gaze, he looked back over his shoulder.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears when his gaze met hers. His eyes were a striking yellow, the round pupils set inside a concentric ring, like a hawk's...
...the one I've been searching for.
Zora sprang to her feet. "'Hawk Eyes' Mihawk! You—"
"You slept for another hour after I called to you. Not that I mind," he said, turning to face her properly.
Questions flooded her mind: Why had the Strongest Swordsman in the World rescued and recruited her? Why did he conceal his identity, and when had that cloth sack appeared by his boots?
She pushed these thoughts aside and studied him.
Her eyes tracked across his bare, chiseled upper body to the golden cross suspended from his neck, then followed the red, flower-patterned sleeves of his coat to his clenched fists. For a blink, she wondered if he seemed tense, but quickly dismissed the idea.
Zora stepped forward, her right hand settling on Wado Ichimonji's hilt. "Did you know I came out to sea to find you?" The challenge in her voice rang clear. "You will duel me here."
"Challenging your captain? Interesting approach."
She hesitated. Was this mutiny? She'd promised to join him. Yet he was the man she needed to defeat.
Wait.
Her eyes sharpened. "How many hours has it been since I agreed to join, and you're already standing in the way of my dream? Am I to abandon it? Should I demand you to cut open your stomach to earn my forgiveness?"
"Who said you must abandon it?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Your dream is to become the world's greatest swordsman. To do that, you need to defeat me."
"And how am I to do that with you as my captain?"
Suddenly, the wind caught their sail high above, causing the skiff to lurch forward through the waves. Neither of them swayed with the abrupt motion.
Mihawk paused for a moment. "Being my crewmate doesn't mean you can't pursue your dream." His tone was matter-of-fact. "Challenge me every day if you wish. No matter how many months or years it takes, I will be here beside you, waiting for you to meet me at eye level."
The words struck Zora. Every day. She could fight the world's strongest swordsman every single day.
"That... I can accept." she said as her hand fell to her side.
Mihawk walked around the mast and extended his hand. Something stirred within Zora. Since becoming a bounty hunter, few men had ever extended her such respect.
"Will you join me?"
Zora needed no time to consider. Taking his hand meant fulfilling two promises at once: challenging him while keeping her word to Kuina. What was there to think about?
"Yes."
The moment their hands met, grains of white light streamed from her body while grains of golden light flowed from his, swirling together in the space between them.
Zora jerked her hand away. "What the hell is this?"
Before her eyes, the mixed light grains coalesced into something that resembled a poster she recognized, even from this angle.
Mihawk showed no concern. Rather, he smiled and positioned his right palm beneath the forming object.
What is happening? Why is he so calm about this? And—
Her questioning thoughts were cut short as a deluge of information rushed into her head.
Sacred Covenant... Fate Parchment... Sacred Haki...
Detailed knowledge followed: instructions on how Sacred Haki was circulated and trained. Such methods made her face burn and her emotions flare as the Fate Parchment split into two identical copies and streamed into his right palm and her left palm.
"Are you the offspring of the devil?!"