At the turbulent intersection where the East Blue meets the Grand Line, a shadow fell across the sea.
It was the Krieg Armada, a vast fleet of fifty pirate ships sailing with an arrogant swagger, an undulating beast of timber and black sails.
The clamor of the crew—drunken shouts and boisterous laughter—mingled with the crashing waves, creating a chaotic symphony of conquest.
Into this chaos, a single Coffin Boat glided silently, an elegant sliver of darkness against the churning water.
At its prow stood Mihawk, his posture as unshakable as a mountain.
The Black Blade was dipped lightly in the water, not as an oar this time, but as a rudder, keeping the small vessel perfectly steady amidst the waves.
His mind was elsewhere, replaying the technique Mike had unleashed—the Sun Breathing.
That final, brilliant slash, a fiery dragon that spiraled with devastating power, was a work of art.
He murmured to himself.
"Brilliant. The essence of that move… a perfect fusion of power and form. Truly brilliant." He allowed himself a small, rare smile.
"How many more techniques like that are you hiding, you little brat?"
For now, he would return home to Kuraigana Island and indulge in some well-deserved rest.
Once boredom inevitably set in, he'd head straight to Marineford.
He was already looking forward to their next duel!
It was then that the raucous laughter from the pirate fleet shattered his peaceful contemplation.
"HAHAHA! Admiral Krieg! Look at this!" a pirate bellowed from a nearby ship, pointing a grubby finger.
"There's a guy using a giant sword as a rudder for his dinky little boat!"
"Seriously? PFFT—HAHAHA! What a weirdo! I'm dying!"
"Gin, come check this out! Some lonely guy's sailing in a coffin and rowing with a black sword!"
"Hey, you on the tiny boat!" another voice jeered.
"Why not join the strongest fleet in the East Blue? Admiral Krieg will give you a real ship with real oars!"
"..."
Mihawk's brief moment of good humor evaporated like morning mist.
His brow twitched, and a cold, dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.
He could tolerate a brat like Mike making fun of him; that was the price of their strange friendship.
'But you lot?' His grip tightened around the hilt of Yoru, his irritation solidifying into a cold, lethal anger.
The temperature around the Coffin Boat seemed to drop several degrees.
"What… are insects like you even worth?" he scoffed under his breath.
With a single, fluid motion, he swung his blade.
The air itself screamed as Yoru sliced through it, releasing an ear-splitting sonic boom.
A silent, emerald-green line of energy shot across the sky, aimed directly at the massive fleet.
On the lead ship, the pirates were still laughing when the world went silent.
The green line passed through their vessel without a sound.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, with a dull, thunderous crack, the entire ship was cleaved cleanly in two.
The splintered halves listed for a moment before rapidly sinking beneath the waves, sending a massive plume of water soaring into the air.
The entire pirate fleet stood frozen, the laughter dying in their throats.
They exchanged bewildered, terrified glances.
"What…?! What was that?!"
Krieg and Gin stood rooted to the deck, their eyes wide with disbelief at the impossible scene.
With a single, casual strike, the pirate ship—and all the men on it—had been obliterated.
Mihawk didn't stop.
Another slash.
Then another.
The attacks rained down like the wrath of a god, mercilessly cutting through the armada.
Each strike carried a cataclysmic force, reducing the proud pirate ships to splinters as if they were made of cheap balsa wood.
"RETREAT! EVERYONE, RETREAT NOW!" Krieg's voice, once so full of arrogance, was now laced with pure panic.
He turn toward Gin, his eyes darting frantically.
"Scatter the fleet! Draw his attention! We're heading back to the East Blue—we'll regroup at the Baratie!"
Krieg's flagship carved a sharp, desperate arc across the water, turning tail and fleeing for its life.
The once-mighty armada descended into chaos, their bravado shattered in an instant.
Mihawk watched the scene unfold, a faint, predatory smirk curling his lips.
"Run?" he murmured to the wind. "Do you really think you can escape?"
With a casual flick of his Black Blade, the Coffin Boat accelerated like a loosed arrow, steadily and effortlessly closing the distance.
.....
Meanwhile, back at Marine Branch 186, Kizaru glanced lazily at Mike, a teasing grin playing on his lips.
"Yo~" he drawled, patting Mike's shoulder. "Well then, I think I'll just take a little tour around the East Blue. See you back at HQ in a month, Captain."
With Mike's transfer locked in, Kizaru saw the month-long wait as a perfect, government-funded vacation.
Kizaru cast a lazy glance at the Marine officers who had accompanied him from Headquarters.
"You all know what to report, ne~?"
"Yes, Admiral, sir!" they responded in perfect unison.
'The Admiral is conducting a thorough, month-long inspection of all East Blue marine base to assess operational readiness.'
Covering for their boss was second nature by now.
"..."
Mike stood to the side, watching the scene with an amused glint in his eyes.
This was eerily similar to his own leadership style.
Unable to resist, he quipped, "So, Admiral Kizaru is personally inspecting every Marine base in the East Blue to gain a thorough understanding of their operational conditions? How diligent of you."
A flicker of amusement passed through Kizaru's eyes as he gave Mike a thumbs-up.
"Smart kid~" He pulled a box of premium, hand-rolled cigars from his coat pocket and tossed it to Mike.
"These were for my 'inspection tour,' but you can have 'em."
Mike caught the box, pulled one out, and gave it a gentle sniff.
The rich, aromatic scent was unmistakable.
"Truly worthy of an Admiral's private stock," he sighed contentedly.
[Ding!]
[Host obtained a box of premium cigars for free. Mood: Pleased. Happy Points +500.]
Mike couldn't help but smile.
Looking up at Kizaru, who was already beginning to dissolve into particles of light, he shouted.
"Old Man! If you stop by any entertainment spots nearby, just drop my name—you'll get a discount!"
Kizaru drifted away into the sky, his lazy voice lingering in the air.
"Kayyyy~"
....
That night, inside the soldiers' dormitory of Branch 186, the tranquil moonlight poured in through the windows.
The silence was broken only by the faint breathing of men who were not asleep.
It was a quiet yet restless night, the soldiers tossing and turning, each lost in thought.
Suddenly, a low voice broke the silence.
"Brothers... are you all awake?"
It was the young Marine who had first voiced his support for Mike's transfer.
"Nope... cant asleep," a voice replied from the darkness.
"None of us are," another added.
The young Marine sat up in his bunk, his face a mixture of confusion and anxiety.
"You all heard what the Captain said today... what he was willing to sacrifice for us." He paused.
"What are your thoughts?"
"What thoughts?" someone mumbled. "What do we do after the Captain leaves?"
The dormitory fell silent for a moment before a cynical voice spoke up.
A soldier patted his big beer belly.
"What do we do? Keep slacking off, I guess. It's what we're good at."
The young Marine retorted instantly, his voice sharp and firm.
"Slack off? Have you all forgotten Captain Mike's real strength? He went toe-to-toe with Hawk-Eyes Mihawk! At the very least, he has the power of a Vice Admiral! What about you? What about any of us? What right do we have to slack off? When pirates show up, are you going to charge at them with that belly of yours?"
"..."
"Damn, bro, that's harsh..."
"And he only pretended to be lazy because he couldn't bear to leave us behind!" another soldier sighed, his voice filled with a mixture of helplessness and affection.
"Now that he's been transferred to Headquarters... I'm applying to go, too!" the young Marine declared, standing up.
His eyes were resolute.
"I'm going to follow in Captain Mike's footsteps!"
"But for branch soldiers to get a transfer to HQ, you need serious strength and a list of merits, right?" another soldier reminded him gently.
"Then I'll get stronger. I'll earn those merits," the young Marine replied without a shred of hesitation, a fighting spirit burning in his eyes.
"I know what I have to do."
With that, he began putting on his uniform, his movements swift and decisive.
"Wait, dude, what are you doing now? It's the middle of the night."
"I'm going to train," he answered, his gaze unwavering.
"Huh? The training grounds haven't been cleaned in, like, three years..."
"Then I'll clean them first. And then I'll start training."
"...Seriously? No more slacking?"
The young soldier didn't respond.
He finished lacing his boots and strode out with firm, determined steps.
The dormitory door swung shut behind him, leaving the others in a heavy silence, each man weighing the young soldier's words and their own conscience.
Rustle—
A faint sound.
Another soldier began to silently get dressed, his movements just as determined.
He, too, stepped out the door.
Rustle—
A third followed.
The fat marine sat up, his cynical demeanor gone, replaced by a look of bewilderment as he glanced around the rapidly emptying room.
"Wait a minute... am I the only one left now?"
A profound sense of loneliness suddenly washed over him.
"Damn it!" he muttered. "The girls at Headquarters are probably prettier anyway."
With his own ridiculous motivation found, he also began to pack his things.
Soon, the dormitory was empty and utterly silent.
In stark contrast, the long-abandoned training ground was now buzzing with energy.
Under the night sky, figures could be seen pushing their limits, their grunts of effort and the rhythmic thud of their training echoing in the cool air.
....
Meanwhile, miles away in the Red-Light District, Mike lay nestled in a sweet, soft embrace of a woman, a happy smile plastered on his face as he slept, blissfully oblivious to the legacy of discipline and ambition he had accidentally inspired.