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The full, cold moon bathed the Birdcage in a silvery glow. Inside the prison of razor-sharp strings, the Nachthrone floated. The scars of
The full, cold moon bathed the Birdcage in a silvery glow.
Inside the prison of razor-sharp strings, the Nachthrone floated. The scars of the naval battle against the Donquixote fleet marked its black hull: light scratches, splintered wood where cannonballs had grazed destruction, and tattered sails flapping weakly in the night breeze. A heavy silence, thick with the stench of dried blood and gunpowder, hung over the deck, broken only by the lapping of water against the hull.
In the control room, tucked beneath the sterncastle, Dracule Mihawk stood before the wide porthole, his golden eyes piercing the darkness to fix on Dressrosa's distant, deceptive lights.
Behind him, Kiku adjusted levers on a damaged control panel, sparks occasionally flaring. Korran watched his captain with near-religious focus.
"Kiku," Mihawk's voice, calm and sharp as Yoru's steel resting against the railing, cut through the silence. He didn't turn. "The Nachthrone's first naval battle. Your analysis."
Kiku paused, her nimble fingers brushing the panel's wood. "The design is superb, Captain," she began, her voice as clear and precise as a honed blade. "Maneuverability, responsiveness… unmatched. We danced through their fire like a leaf in the wind." A glint of admiration flickered in her dark eyes. Then her face hardened. "But durability… it's a glaring weakness. The special wood, the reinforcements… they're not enough. Without your Barrier Haki constantly shielding the hull…" She shook her head slowly. "The Nachthrone would've sunk three times over. It's too reliant on active protection against concentrated fire."
Mihawk tilted his head slightly, a thin sliver of moonlight illuminating his angular profile. "Expected," he said, without a trace of disappointment. "They had one target. All their firepower converged on us. Concentrated fire was inevitable." A pause, then he added, his tone almost approving: "Your navigation, however, was exemplary. Without your skill, even my Haki couldn't have countered everything."
A subtle slump in Kiku's shoulders betrayed her relief at the acknowledgment. She bowed her head. "Thank you, Captain."
Hawkeye turned fully from the view, his golden pupils settling on Korran. The young man stiffened instinctively under the piercing gaze that seemed to weigh his soul. "And you, Korran? You observed the fight against the Donquixote family?"
Korran swallowed hard, his throat dry. Images flooded his mind: Diamante's devastating power, Trebol's sticky, insidious attacks, Gladius's terrifying speed… and the unnerving ease with which Mihawk silenced them. "Yes, Captain," he whispered, lowering his eyes briefly before raising them with newfound resolve, tinged with humility. "I saw… I… You were right. I'm not ready. Not against monsters like them. Their level… their experience… it's another world." The admission stung, but it was honest, torn from both the fear he'd felt and his absolute respect for the power displayed.
A nearly imperceptible nod from Mihawk. "Good," he said. "Recognizing your weakness is the first, most crucial step toward building strength. Knowing where you falter lets you forge the iron to fill the gap. Never forget that. Arrogance kills more surely than any sword."
Kiku, done with her adjustments, turned to them. "Captain," she asked, her gaze scanning the gleaming strings of the cage silhouetted against the night sky. "Could we… break out of this prison? The hull's weakened, but it could handle a quick escape maneuver."
Mihawk didn't flinch. "I could cut this cage apart at any moment." His hand brushed Yoru's black hilt almost casually.
Korran frowned, puzzled. "Then… why wait? Why stay trapped like rats? If you can destroy it so easily…"
Kiku answered, a spark of understanding in her eyes. "Because a naval battle in open water, especially at night, with a damaged ship and against the remnants of their fleet likely watching us… would be tactical suicide, Korran." She gestured toward the horizon where Dressrosa lay. "They have the advantage of numbers, knowledge of the currents, and possibly reserve ships. The Nachthrone and its small crew would be easy targets in open water."
Mihawk gave a slight nod of approval. Then he stood. "However, Kiku, the waiting is over," he declared, his voice low but carrying like distant thunder. "It's time to take Dressrosa."
Kiku's eyes widened, surprised despite her foresight. "Take… ? But Captain, we're at sea! And… Perona?" She glanced instinctively around, as if the ghostly girl might emerge from a bulkhead. "She vanished during the battle. She must've… fled?" The thought seemed to unsettle her.
Korran grimaced. "Probably. Our Princess is a traitor."
Mihawk's lips curled into a faint, icy smirk that could pass for cold amusement. "My second doesn't flee, Korran," he corrected. "She's carrying out a mission I assigned her. Her discretion and powers make her… uniquely suited for certain infiltrations." He offered no further details, letting the mystery hang like an added threat. "Her role is critical for what's to come."
Without another word, he stepped around the control panel and headed for the ladder to the deck. At the threshold, he paused, half-turning. The moonlight behind him outlined a tall, menacing silhouette. "Your task is here. Tend to the ship. Repair it. Be ready." His gaze swept over his two crew members. "What's about to happen in Dressrosa… will create enough of a diversion. Use it."
He climbed to the deck. The night wind swept through his coat, giving him the air of a giant bat.
Without hesitation, without even a running start, Mihawk leaped from the railing. He didn't fall. He seemed to slice through the air, descending with deadly grace toward the dark water below. At the last moment, his feet skimmed the surface, but he didn't sink. As if borne by an invisible force, he began to walk across the water, slowly, with sovereign dignity, straight toward the shimmering barrier of the Birdcage.
On the Nachthrone's deck, Kiku and Korran rushed to the railing, hearts pounding. They saw Mihawk stop before the wall of strings, just meters away. He didn't draw Yoru immediately. He simply raised his right hand, index and middle fingers extended like a blade.
"Look, Korran," Kiku whispered. "Look closely. Our Captain… he's about to make waves again."
Korran gripped the railing, his knuckles whitening. A wide, wild grin split his young face. "And how!" he growled, his voice thick with boundless admiration. "It's only natural, right? That's the price of following the man… the only man I'll ever truly call Captain."
On the water, Mihawk lowered his two fingers.
A flash, blacker than the night itself, tore through the air. There was no deafening roar, only an ultrasonic *schiiing*, a ripping of reality itself.
The Birdcage's wall of strings vanished over a twenty-meter span, like a spiderweb burned by a red-hot iron. The razor-sharp threads disintegrated into a shower of cold sparks before fading into nothingness.
No visible effort. No strain.
Without a backward glance, Dracule Mihawk stepped through the breach he'd created. He advanced across the open water with steady steps, leaving the Nachthrone and its broken cage behind, moving unflinchingly toward Dressrosa's deceptive lights and frantic defenses.
Dressrosa's hour had come.