At the intersection of the East Blue and the Grand Line, a massive fleet of pirate ships sailed with the wind.
Fifty ships together formed what looked like a black ocean, their sails shining under the sun as waves crashed and rolled beneath them. From afar, they resembled the scales of a colossal beast.
The roar of the sea mixed with the shouts and laughter of countless pirates, creating a wild and oppressive atmosphere.
At this moment, a coffin ship drifted quietly into view.
At its bow stood Dracule "Hawkeye" Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman. His figure was tall and imposing, his wine-red cloak fluttering behind him. In his hand, the black blade Yoru (Night) dipped gently into the water, paddling the vessel forward as steadily as if fate itself parted the waves for him.
But Mihawk's mind was elsewhere.
He kept recalling the fiery sword technique he had just witnessed from Yamir—the "Diamond Dragon Head Dance". That flaming slash, twisting like a tornado, carried destructive power and beauty in equal measure.
"Brilliant…" Mihawk muttered, his golden hawk-eyes flashing. "The charm of that technique is exquisite. Just how many more tricks does that brat have hidden?"
His thoughts were interrupted by mocking laughter from the deck of a nearby ship.
"Hahahahaha! Admiral Don Krieg, look over there!"
"Someone's using a sword as an oar to row his boat!"
"Really? Bwahahaha! I'm dying of laughter!"
"Gin, come see this! A man rowing with a black sword!"
"Hey, kid! Why don't you come row under Admiral Krieg's flag? At least he's got real oars for you!"
Mihawk's eyes narrowed, a cold glint flashing.
Yamir could tease him—that much he allowed. But these insects?
His grip on Yoru tightened.
The laughter grew louder, but it was abruptly drowned out when Mihawk swung his sword.
"Zing—!"
The blade cut the air, and a dazzling green slash tore through the sky. With a thunderous explosion, one of Krieg's lead ships split cleanly in two. The vessel groaned, cracked apart, and quickly sank beneath the waves in a spray of seawater.
"Wh-what…?!"
The entire fleet froze in shock.
Don Krieg and his lieutenant Gin gawked, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what had just happened. One strike. One ship gone.
But Mihawk was only beginning.
Slash after slash followed, raining destruction like the wrath of a god. Each stroke of Yoru's blade carried the overwhelming force of the world's strongest swordsman. Ships shattered like fragile toys, their wooden frames exploding into splinters before vanishing into the depths.
"Run! Run!" Krieg bellowed, his bravado shattered, panic overtaking him. "Scatter! Split the fleet! Buy us time!"
The so-called "Overlord of the East Blue" turned tail, his flagship swinging hard as he fled back toward the safer waters of the East Blue. His once-boastful fleet dissolved into chaos, scattering in all directions like ants before a storm.
Mihawk's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Run?" he murmured.
"Do you truly think you can escape?"
With a light flick of Yoru, his coffin ship accelerated as though alive, arrowing straight after the fleeing Krieg. His hunt now led toward the Baratie, the floating sea-restaurant in the Sambas Sea.
Meanwhile, back at the 186th Branch of the Marines (East Blue), Admiral Borsalino (Kizaru) had finished his inspection.
He laid a lazy hand on Yamir's shoulder, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose.
"Yo~," Kizaru drawled in his usual tone, half-mocking, half-playful. "Well then… I'll just wander the East Blue for a while. See you at headquarters later."
Yamir's transfer order to Marineford had been confirmed. All that was left was to wait for the warship to return and escort him. For Kizaru, the month-long wait was nothing but a chance to drift about, sightseeing and enjoying leisure.
He cast a glance at the marines beside him, raising a brow.
"You know how to file the report, don't you?"
"Of course, sir!" the soldiers barked back, faces impassive. Covering for Kizaru was second nature to them.
Yamir, watching, couldn't help but chuckle. It reminded him far too much of how he slacked off in the branch, leaving his subordinates to cover his absence. With a grin he teased,
"In order to truly understand the East Blue, Admiral Kizaru personally inspects each branch himself, huh?"
Kizaru paused, then gave Yamir a knowing thumbs-up. "You're a smart one~"
He fished out a box of premium cigars—clearly high-end, admiral-grade luxury stock—and tossed it over.
"Here. I was saving these for when I got bored, but you can have them."
Yamir caught the box, opened it, and inhaled deeply. The rich aroma hit him instantly—quality beyond anything available in the East Blue.
"As expected of admiral supplies," he thought, impressed.
[Ding!]
[Host acquires a box of premium cigars. Happiness +500.]
Yamir couldn't help but grin, looking up at Kizaru (Borsalino), who had already turned into a scattering of dazzling photons and soared into the sky. He shouted mockingly:
"Old Monkey! Just give your name at the entertainment venues nearby—guaranteed discount!"
The Admiral of Light, ever lazy, let his voice trail through the night air, almost like a joke carried by the sea breeze:
"Yoshi~"
That night.
Inside the navy soldiers' dormitory, the quiet East Blue night seeped in through the windows. Only the sound of calm breathing broke the silence. It was both quiet and restless—no one seemed able to fall asleep.
Occasionally, a soldier would turn over, the faint rustle betraying thoughts of the day's events. Mihawk's duel, Kizaru's appearance, Captain Yamir's shocking strength—everything lingered vividly in their minds.
Suddenly, a low voice broke the stillness:
"Brothers, are you asleep?"
It was the same young navy who had first spoken in support of Yamir going to Marineford Headquarters.
"No…"
"I haven't slept!"
"I haven't slept either!"
The young soldier sat up, restless, his voice carrying both anxiety and conviction.
"You all heard what the Captain said. What do you think?"
The dormitory fell silent again, until a beer-bellied soldier chuckled, patting his stomach:
"What else can we do? Just keep posing~"
The young soldier snapped back immediately:
"Pose?! Did you not see Captain Yamir's strength? He fought Dracule Mihawk—the world's greatest swordsman! He could be at least Vice Admiral level, maybe higher!"
"What do you have to show off? If pirates come, are you going to use your belly as a cannonball?"
The soldier's voice echoed with biting sarcasm.
"Brother, that's too cruel…"
Another sighed heavily, tone soft and full of longing:
"But the Captain only played lazy because he couldn't bear to leave us."
One soldier clenched his fists, eyes burning.
"Then I'll follow him. I'll apply for a transfer to headquarters!"
"You think that's easy?" another warned. "For branch soldiers, you need achievements and real strength. Headquarters isn't a playground—it's where admirals and legends like Garp, Aokiji, and Akainu serve."
"Then I'll earn it!" The young soldier declared without hesitation. "I'll train harder, gain military merit, and prove myself."
He began to pull on his uniform with decisive movements.
"No way—you're training now?"
"Yes. Even if the training grounds are dirty, I'll clean them. Then I'll train."
"Wait, you're not going to pose anymore?" another asked incredulously.
The young man ignored them, tightening his boots, determination radiating with each step as he left.
The silence grew heavy again, until another soldier followed, equipment rustling as he, too, slipped into the night. Then a third. The dormitory grew emptier with each departure.
The beer-bellied soldier looked around, suddenly feeling abandoned.
"No… am I the only one left?"
A pang of loneliness stabbed his heart.
"Fuck it. The girls at headquarters should be prettier anyway."
Grumbling, he also packed up and followed.
Outside, the cool night breeze carried the salty air of the East Blue. On the training grounds, the silence of night was shattered by shouts:
"One! Two! One! Two!"
Figures pushed their bodies to the limit, sweat glistening under the moonlight.
For them, it wasn't just training—it was the beginning of a path to follow their beloved Captain Yamir into the real stage of the world, where monsters like Mihawk, the Admirals, and the Yonko reigned.
Meanwhile, at that very moment, Captain Yamir was far away from all this—sound asleep in a soft, sweet embrace, blissfully unaware that his men had just begun their own journey toward strength.