"So, he flat-out refused."
At Marine Headquarters, after receiving Garp's report, Sengoku immediately summoned Vice Admiral Tsuru.
When Tsuru heard what Garp had relayed, she sighed and said directly,
"Even if the Marines had a Logia-type Devil Fruit, there's no way it would be given away.
Those fruits are for internal use only. Once acquired, they're immediately allocated."
"Then forget it," Sengoku muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Let's just think about how we're going to explain this to Zephyr."
Ever since he became Fleet Admiral, the weight of that position never ceased pressing down on him.
"That person who appeared beside Don…"
Tsuru wasn't done yet. Seeing Sengoku's fatigue, she reminded him again.
"It's very likely that he's the same man who fought Don. That meteor strike must've been his doing—clearly a Devil Fruit user. We still don't know what ability it was, but that slash in the desert… Don's strength has increased drastically."
"For someone to fight on equal terms with Don now—and even travel alongside him—that person must be immensely powerful."
"Any leads?" Tsuru asked.
"Not yet. He probably hadn't gone to sea before, or rarely made a move," Sengoku replied, shaking his head.
"In that case, he's likely a hidden powerhouse who's kept his name buried until now. Who knows what happened to make him surface again this time."
"Our agents are investigating. We'll have more soon."
"Fine," Tsuru nodded and rose to leave. "And Zephyr's incident?"
"I'll think of something," Sengoku said, waving her off tiredly.
Seeing Sengoku's expression, Tsuru understood it was a headache he couldn't easily fix, so she said no more and turned to leave.
Outside the office, Gion—Momousagi—approached her superior and asked quietly,
"Vice Admiral Tsuru, did that man agree?"
"No. Things are… complicated," Tsuru replied, shaking her head as she left with Gion in tow.
Two days later.
Once the Log Pose finished recording the island's magnetic field, its needle fixed toward the next destination. Don's group didn't linger any longer in Alabasta.
After boarding the ship, as it slowly pulled away from the harbor, Don stood at the bow, watching the port fade in the distance—then suddenly froze.
"What's wrong?" Robin asked, noticing the change in his expression.
"He's here," Don murmured, raising a hand slightly before turning toward the vast sea.
Far ahead, a strange little boat drifted alone on the waves.
And on it sat a lone man, legs crossed, watching him quietly.
Don could feel that man's gaze, sharp and focused—meeting his own.
"Fujitora," Don called calmly.
"An enemy?"
Fujitora tilted his head slightly, sensing the sharp, cutting aura emanating from afar.
"No. But I do want a fight."
A faint grin crossed Don's face, his tone brimming with anticipation.
"Who is it?" Robin asked, startled.
At Don's current level, there weren't many people left who could make him look forward to battle.
"The world's greatest swordsman."
"...Hawkeye?"
The moment Don spoke the title, both Robin and Fujitora immediately knew.
The man who stood atop every swordsman in the world—his title earned not through boasting, but through countless duels won across the Grand Line.
"You're not exactly a pure swordsman though, are you?" Robin asked curiously.
"Maybe not. But I've studied the blade," Don replied, gripping his sword Flame at his side. "And to meet him here and not test my edge? That'd be a regret I'd never live down."
On the small boat across the sea, Dracule Mihawk—Hawkeye—rose to his feet.
As Don saw him, Mihawk too caught sight of Don.
His hand turned, gripping the hilt of the black blade Yoru. His keen eyes fixed upon the man standing proudly on the distant ship.
He had originally come just to examine that rumored sword mark… yet fate had arranged for him to meet the man who made it.
As a swordsman, there was only one proper greeting.
And a swordsman's greeting was something few others could withstand.
Shing!
The black sword Yoru swung down, releasing a crescent of blue energy that tore across the sea.
Seeing Mihawk make the first move, Don drew Flame and slashed in response.
His own wave of sword energy roared out, cleaving through the ocean to meet Mihawk's.
No sound—no explosion—just raw force.
At the point of collision, the air warped and twisted, forming a perfectly circular void.
Power against power, pressure against pressure.
"Looks like I'm not going anywhere now," Don said quietly, then turned back toward his companions. "You two head back first."
Without waiting for a reply, he leapt high into the sky, soaring several hundred meters before descending in a blazing arc toward Mihawk's boat.
"Are they… just fighting as a greeting?" Robin muttered, speechless.
"Perhaps," Fujitora replied, though even he seemed intrigued. As another master swordsman—one who had long fused his abilities into his blade—he could feel his own sword hand itching to join.
But Don had already taken the field.
The ship turned back toward the harbor as the two swordsmen's clashing auras erupted.
The energy burst outward, creating waves that grew taller with every passing second.
Fujitora drew his blade Gambler's Edge and swung sideways, a single stroke cleaving the sea apart.
The massive wave that had been racing toward the port crashed harmlessly into the long scar carved across the ocean's surface.
At the harbor, the people of Alabasta could only stare, dumbstruck.
"What in the world… is happening out there?"
From above, Mihawk gazed up at the descending figure, and with both hands gripping Yoru, he swung upward in a wide arc.
Clang!
Steel met steel—Yoru against Flame. Sparks danced as raw strength collided midair.
Their eyes met.
"Hawkeye," Don said with a grin, tightening his grip before forcing his power downward.
Mihawk was driven back, his boots landing upon his tiny ship.
Boom!
The boat shuddered, sinking half a meter before the surrounding sea exploded outward in violent sprays. The hull cracked and shattered beneath him.
That exchange—Hawkeye had taken a slight loss.
But his expression didn't change.
Don twisted midair and withdrew, his lower body turning to flame as he hovered above the waves.
Mihawk's brow furrowed.
So, Don wasn't just a swordsman…
He was a fire-wielding swordsman.
END OF CHAPTER
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