The subsequent progress of the matter was extremely smooth. After Yamir agreed to go to headquarters, Kizaru immediately called Marineford to confirm that the review had been passed. He even went out of his way to request Fleet Admiral Sengoku to assign Yamir under his direct command as an adjutant.
The new head of Branch 186 was already on the way, expected to arrive within half a month, and the handover process would last another two weeks. After consultations, it was settled: in a month's time, Yamir would depart for Marine Headquarters and be officially promoted to Colonel of Marine Headquarters.
That day, at the pier of Branch 186, a massive warship slowly approached the dock. Its sail bore a huge character for "yellow," flapping in the sea breeze. The officers and sailors bustled about in preparation, their footsteps echoing heavily on the quiet dock.
They would remain in this remote East Blue branch for a month, waiting for Captain Yamir to complete his handover before boarding Admiral Kizaru's warship to report to Marineford.
Yamir stood at the dock with Kizaru by his side. Not far away, Mihawk leaned casually against the railing, enjoying the fleeting tranquility.
"I won't say much more."
Mihawk's golden eyes fixed on Yamir, his tone carrying a rare weight. "Congratulations. You've finally earned your promotion.". His words were simple, but the admiration and recognition within them were unmistakable.
Yamir smiled lightly. "There's still a month before I report. At headquarters, I'll be a colonel." He stretched lazily, but his grin betrayed satisfaction. "Thanks, Mihawk san."
They both knew Mihawk's words weren't just congratulations—they were recognition. Recognition from the man known across the seas as Hawkeye Mihawk.
Ding!
[The host feels the sincere recognition from one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, Mihawk. Happiness value +5000.].
"What are you thanking me for? From now on, I'll come straight to Marineford to find you."
A faint smile tugged at Mihawk's lips. "I'll have much to discuss with you about your breathing styles then."
"It's okay to come," Yamir chuckled, "just don't forget to bring some wine."
"Hmph, you brat." Mihawk's mouth twitched, but instead of leaving immediately, he strode toward his coffin-shaped boat—the iconic Coffin Boat.
As the evening sun set, Mihawk stood at the bow, his silhouette lonely and unshakable. His proud back seemed to merge with the horizon itself.
Yamir smirked and teased, "Mihawk san, why aren't you leaving?"
Kizaru, sunglasses reflecting the glow, observed with a faint smile. His Observation Haki pulsed quietly, detecting subtle shifts in aura, curiosity flashing across his face.
"Go back to the branch first," Mihawk replied calmly. "I'll take in the scenery."
"How could I possibly do that?" Yamir grinned slyly. "You're my honored guest. Of course, I'll see you off."
"You—boy." (╬Ò‸Ó)
Veins bulged on Mihawk's forehead. "Why the hell have you never seen me off before!"
"Hehehe, I have to see you off today."
"Hmph. I admit defeat."
With a sharp snort, Mihawk unsheathed his black blade Yoru. He made an elegant motion, plunging the world's strongest black sword into the sea—and began rowing.
"Wow—!"
The coffin boat glided steadily across the water, propelled by the black blade acting as an oar.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
Yamir clutched his stomach, doubled over in laughter. "So skilled, Mihawk san! Looks like you've been rowing with Yoru for practice!"
Ding!
[The host witnessed Mihawk's joke—using the world's strongest sword as an oar. Happiness value +5000.]
[Current remaining happiness value: 70,544.]
On the coffin boat, Mihawk's grip on Yoru tightened. His expression darkened, and with a cold snort, he swung—sending a brilliant green slash tearing through the air.
"Oh my god!" Yamir yelped. "A full-strength strike from Mihawk san's pure swordsmanship!"
Without hesitation, he darted behind Kizaru. "Admiral Kizaru, save me!"
Kizaru only chuckled, his tone as lazy as ever. "Yo~ what a terrifying slash~. But I'm just a poor bystander watching the fun. You two should sort this out yourselves~."
Before Yamir could continue, Kizaru's body suddenly dissolved into countless golden light particles, vanishing into the air with his trademark languid laugh, leaving only shimmering motes that slowly dissipated.
"Fuck!"
"Old Monkey!"
"Trampling my subordinates at the crucial moment!"
Yamir cursed loudly, gripping the demonic blade Thousand Blades with both hands. The sword vibrated violently, almost resonating with his heart.
His gaze sharpened, and under the burning sun, his figure seemed to ignite with a hellish blaze. The oppressive heat distorted the air around him.
His breathing grew rapid yet rhythmic—echoing the Breath of the Sun.
"Breath of the Sun!"
A crimson aura burst out, enveloping his body in firelight, his presence like a living inferno.
"Eleventh Form—Halo Dragon: Head Dance!!!"
He exhaled with force, releasing scorching air that shook heaven and earth. His sword cut the void with blinding speed, each swing detonating with thunderous shockwaves. The blades of flame wove together into the form of a roaring dragon, scorching everything in its path—very much in the style of Tanjiro's Sun Breathing techniques.
"Boom—!!"
The fiery dragon slash collided with Mihawk's emerald slash, exploding with a sky-splitting roar. The shockwave tore cracks across the dock as if the earth itself would crumble. Yamir staggered back only two steps before steadying himself.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…"
Light particles converged as Admiral Kizaru reappeared lazily at his side, sunglasses tilted, lips curled into his mocking drawl:
"Even against Dracule Mihawk's full-power slash, you only stepped back twice. My dear lieutenant-san, you've been hiding well~"
"Old Man Kizaru!" Yamir snapped back, veins bulging in frustration. "You're hopeless in a crisis!"
"???"
Kizaru froze, looking almost offended. Wasn't it enough to be demoted from 'Admiral Kizaru' to 'Old Monkey'? Now even further down to 'Old Man Kizaru'?
At the bow of the coffin boat, Hawkeye Mihawk stood tall, his hawk-like gaze fixed on Yamir. Seeing his own attack blocked, the world's greatest swordsman laughed with genuine appreciation, his voice sharp and resonant:
"Hahahahaha!"
"So beautiful!"
"Boy, that move—so elegant!"
His laughter, like a chilling symphony, echoed over the sea as the black blade "Night" sliced the water and his coffin boat slowly drifted away from Branch 186.
Cutaway – The Next Threat
Not far away, on the open waters, a massive three-decked sailing ship carved through the waves. Its black panther figurehead glared ahead, and the flag—bearing a skull with twin hourglasses—fluttered ominously.
At the bow stood a burly man clad in golden armor, a bright turban on his head, exuding overwhelming confidence. His thunderous voice roared across the seas:
"Little ones! We sail for the Grand Line!"
"Conquer it! Declare to the world who I am!"
Don Krieg, bounty 17 million berries, the so-called overlord of the East Blue, spread his arms wide.
Beside him stood his silent shadow, the gaunt man with messy hair and dark circles beneath his eyes, turban wrapped tight and earrings gleaming red. His eerie presence contrasted with Krieg's bravado.
The Ghost Man—Gin.