That feeling hit him like a freight train.
Black-red lightning that made his bones want to rattle.
"Mihawk, you love playing the silent badass, don't you? Well, let's see how you handle my version of keeping it simple."
The casual mockery in Aus's voice left Mihawk genuinely confused. What the hell was he talking about?
He was just a swordsman. Words weren't his thing.
That was normal, right? What serious swordsman wasted time on flashy speeches when they could be perfecting their blade work?
But watching Aus's entire body pulse with that black-red energy—so thick it looked ready to tear reality apart—Mihawk's combat instincts started screaming. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
This was...
Aus's grin turned predatory. He exploded forward.
The ground didn't just crack—it collapsed. Dozens of meters of earth caved in from the sheer force of his launch.
CLANG—
Ace, wrapped in crackling black-red lightning, came down with the weight of a falling sky.
Mihawk twisted, dropped low, and met it with everything he had.
It wasn't enough.
HISS—
Blood painted the world red.
Yoru spun through the air like a broken toy, blade-first into the dirt. The handle vibrated so hard it looked like it might shatter.
"Why didn't you dodge?"
Aus let the Conqueror's Haki fade from his blade, scowling at the stubborn bastard in front of him.
He'd held back after sending Yoru flying—he wasn't trying to kill the guy. But this idiot had thrown himself right into the path of his follow-through.
"Dodge?"
Mihawk staggered, dropped to one knee, blood streaming from his chest. But his face? Pure steel. Those hawk eyes burned with something that didn't know the meaning of fear:
"I'm going to be the world's greatest swordsman! You think I'd run from anyone's blade?
Not yours, Doctor Aus.
Not anyone's!"
...
Pretty words didn't change facts.
He'd lost. Completely.
Haki, technique, raw power—Aus had him beat in every category. There was no shame in it, but damn if it didn't sting.
All those years cutting down "legendary" swordsmen. All that confidence.
Then this monster showed up and made him realize how small his world really was.
After the fight, Sabaody Archipelago.
Red-light district, private room above some dive bar.
"That last move... was that Divine Departure?"
Mihawk sat shirtless on an expensive couch while a small army of medical girls wrapped him in enough bandages to mummify a giant. He ignored them completely, laser-focused on Aus.
Aus, meanwhile, was getting a massage from some cute maid, totally relaxed.
"Nah," Aus said, not even opening his eyes. "Just swinging my sword around."
Mihawk went quiet. He could feel it though—that technique was identical to the one from Loguetown. That suffocating pressure that made you think nobody in the world could block it.
"That black-red lightning... Devil Fruit power?"
"Want to know?"
"Yes."
"Then beg."
Even Mihawk's legendary patience had limits. A vein popped on his forehead.
Seeing the hawk-eyed swordsman close his eyes in irritation, Aus finally took pity on him.
"Fine, fine. So touchy... It's Conqueror's Haki. You wrap it around your weapon. Since I promised no Devil Fruit powers, obviously I kept my word."
Mihawk's eyes snapped open.
Aus caught the look and almost laughed. What a tsundere.
But Mihawk wasn't done. His fighting spirit blazed as bright as ever:
"Someday I'll crack that technique. But until then...
Let me sail with you, Doctor Aus!"
Aus just smiled. "Sure thing. I believe you can do it."
Truth was, he knew Mihawk's story. The betrayals that would come. The disillusionment with the Marines. The loneliness that would drive him to hide behind Buggy's name just to find some peace.
None of that had happened yet. This Mihawk still believed in people.
Maybe Aus had just saved him from that fate.
The debt Mihawk owed him now? Heavier than Doflamingo's by far.
He could spend a lifetime paying it back.
Watching Aus's scheming expression, Mihawk felt a chill. The guy was definitely planning something.
Strong but twisted bastard...
The next two years flew by.
Aus had no interest in stirring up trouble—there weren't any major events worth his attention anyway. Most of his time was spent training with Mihawk on deserted islands, then hitting up red-light districts to unwind.
The future world's greatest swordsman, used to traveling alone, slowly got addicted to this lifestyle. Every sparring match ended with him flat on his ass, but he was improving fast.
Two years passed like that.
Even without Aus making waves, the seas kept churning. This ocean never slept.
On a completely trashed island—mountains flattened, craters everywhere—two figures took a break from their latest bout.
"Time to go, isn't it, Mihawk?"
Aus had grown to three meters tall, seventeen now, long hair framing a face that could stop traffic. He sat casually while Mihawk sheathed his sword nearby.
"Yeah."
"Then let's set sail. Time to see what this crazy era's been up to. Should be fun."
Aus's grin was pure trouble. Even Mihawk broke out in cold sweat.
"Wonder if the world's gotten more interesting while we've been away?
Wonder if they've forgotten about me—this relic from the old days?"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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