Far across the fractured battlefield, two figures hovered against the backdrop of a ruined sea.
"Haa… haa… It has been far too long since I last met an opponent who could make my blood sing like this," Mihawk exhaled raggedly, his voice carrying through the frozen air.
He stood on the skywalk of Geppo, black cloak in tatters, his once-impeccable appearance reduced to rags. His lean, muscular body bore countless cuts. The iconic wide-brimmed hat was gone, his arms trembling from exhaustion. Blood dripped freely from both wrists, Yoru still clenched in a grip bordering on desperation.
That last cataclysmic strike from Kai had carved deeper injuries into the world's greatest swordsman than he had suffered in years.
"Same for you," Kai muttered, his own body swaying midair, emerald light flickering faintly. He spat blood, crimson soaking his lips. His condition was arguably worse.
The Sacrificial Charge had landed with devastating force, but as with all such techniques, one-third of the damage had rebounded into his own flesh. Were it not for the fortitude of his Mythical Zoan physique, the tactic would've left him crushed beneath his own power.
"Let's end it here," Mihawk declared at last, his gaze cutting over the shredded battlefield. His calm carried the weight of a man who had seen countless duels. "To continue would only destroy us both."
"Agreed," Kai replied. He wiped the blood from his chin and chuckled hoarsely. "A pity, though."
The two descended from the sky. As they landed, Kai raised one hand toward the heavens.
"Clear skies."
At his command, the storm that had consumed sea and sky dissolved. Harsh light pierced through as the sun blazed down once more, thawing the battlefield of ice.
Mihawk stood stiffly. "Don't think you've won."
Kai only laughed. "Ha! If nothing else, I got a good look at your swordstyle."
Kai glanced sidelong at him. "Want to come aboard my ship to get treated? Change your clothes maybe?"
Mihawk shook his head slowly. "No need. I carry spares." Even now, his pride would not yield.
But when Mihawk turned his eyes toward the spot where his coffin-ship had been moored, his calm cracked. Only floating shards of wood remained, debris scattered by their monumental clash.
Kai covered his mouth, unable to suppress a belly laugh. "Pfft… hahahaha! You… hahahaha! You're broke! Big, scary Mihawk, the World's Greatest Swordsman, stranded without a boat!"
Mihawk's face darkened murderously. "Who… told you to destroy my ship?"
Kai doubled over, clutching his stomach as he wheezed in laughter. At last, he took pity. "Alright, alright. We're about the same size. I'll lend you clean clothes. And the ship's doctor can patch those arms of yours."
A duel, after all, was the sincerest form of respect between men. Mihawk wasn't the type to quibble. He didn't dislike Kai. At the very least, he acknowledged him.
So it was that the world's greatest swordsman accompanied Kai back to the Rayquaza and allowed himself to be treated like any other wounded warrior.
By the time they returned to the Baratie, Kai's untouched feast still waited.
Kai, grinning ear to ear, called out: "Boss, bring another whole table. Put it on my tab. Mihawk here is broke anyway."
BANG!
Yoru slammed down onto the table, rattling every dish. Mihawk's golden eyes bored into him. "Will you shut your mouth?"
Kai raised his hands innocently. "Hey, just stating facts."
In the corner, the excitable photographer Fire Snapper scribbled furiously, eyes wet with joy. "Big scoop! Historic scoop! Morgans is going to shower me in bonuses!"
Kai, meanwhile, leaned back as two women attended him. Violet raised a spoonful of golden seafood fried rice to his lips with a playful smile.
"Lord Kai, try this. The seasoning here is unique."
On the other side, Reiju cut a honey-drizzled steak, its juices glistening amber as she held it out delicately.
"This roast is exquisite. You should taste it."
Kai accepted both offerings without hesitation, eyes slipping shut as flavors burst across his tongue. His hands worked just fine, but why refuse such care?
Across from him, Mihawk's lips thinned as he struggled to even lift his fork with blood-slick fingers. For the first time in his austere, solitary life, a peculiar thought wormed its way into his mind.
Perhaps… I should hire a maid.
Kai noticed his glance but didn't comment. Instead, he spoke idly: "Tell me, Mihawk. Why are you in East Blue?"
"A simple answer," Mihawk replied, sipping from his cup. "I came for the food."
Kai blinked, then laughed. "Right. The swordsman who cooks his own meals and tends his own garden. I should have guessed."
The two fell into silence again, save for the thunderous noise of plates vanishing one after the other.
The Baratie's chefs finally understood what Kai meant earlier when he said, "Order the whole menu." It wasn't a joke. One dish after another disappeared in moments. Even Zeff began to worry for their dwindling storage.
Eventually the carnage ended, and the last empty plate clattered down. Kai leaned back, satisfied, patting his belly.
"That was good."
"Delicious!" Yamato sprawled backward in her chair, rubbing her stomach with both hands and grinning ear to ear.
No wonder Mihawk had come here to dine.
Finally, Kai gestured. "Sanji."
"Brother-in-law, what do you need from me?" Sanji beamed, stepping forward.
"Sanji!" Reiju's face turned scarlet. She smacked him furiously, but Kai caught her wrist with lazy ease.
"Sanji isn't wrong," Kai said with a chuckle. His gaze hardened, turning to Sanji.
"Would you like to come with me? I truly love your cooking."
Sanji froze, stunned by the invitation. No one had ever asked him to join in such a way, not for his fists, but for his hands in the kitchen.
Almost out of instinct, his eyes flicked toward Zeff.
"Idiot."
Thwack! Zeff cuffed him sharply on the head.
"You dare hesitate? Didn't you dream of the All Blue?!"
At the name of All Blue, Sanji's eyes shone brightly. But then they dimmed, flicking down to Zeff's heavy wooden leg.
"Old man… If I leave… who will take care of you?"
"Oi, brat!"
The Baratie chefs bellowed at once: "You think you're the only one here?! What about us?!"
Zeff's voice silenced them all. "Enough." He stroked his moustache, then fixed a stern eye on Sanji.
"Go, Sanji. A real man isn't meant to rot in a cage. Take my dream too. Go out into the world and find the All Blue—for both of us."
His broad back turned, shoulders trembling beneath his coat. He refused to let his own tears show.
Sanji's fists clenched. His throat burned. "Old man!"
The warm sting of tears blurred his vision; a torrent of sorrow, love, and gratitude surged inside him.
And with that, the fire within Sanji's heart finally awakened.