As Zoro fell in defeat and Luffy charged forward in anger, Ron's decision was already made.
He couldn't — wouldn't — let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip away.
He turned to Nami and gently patted her shoulder.
"Ah!"
Only then did Nami realize their awkward position — she was still clinging to his back like a koala.
Her face turned bright red, and she quickly scrambled down, flustered.
But Ron's focus was elsewhere. His mind was now consumed by one thought — the sword.
He handed her the bowl of fried rice and noodles.
"Hold these for me."
"Huh? You're not finishing your food?"
Ron didn't answer. He only nodded slightly, scanning the deck with narrowed eyes.
He needed a blade — something, anything — to pose as a swordsman and challenge Dracule Mihawk himself.
But to do so as a "warrior of the blade" rather than a reckless brawler… that was the real trick.
Facing Mihawk without the aura of a true swordsman would be suicide.
Even with his monstrous physique, no Haki, and no divine weapon, it would be like throwing an egg at a mountain.
Ron knew the difference. He wasn't Zoro — that battle-mad fool who lived to test his limits.
A swordsman's duel wasn't about brute force. It was about mastery — about spirit and technique.
He needed a weapon worthy of that name.
"Johnny. Yosaku," Ron called, walking toward the two stunned bounty hunters. "Would the Sword Saint and Blade God lend me their weapons?"
He said it casually, but the glint in his eyes was deadly serious.
At that moment, the two were helping Zoro — who had just been defeated — back onto the deck.
Zoro's chest was bleeding, but his voice was filled with defiance.
"I swear… I'll never lose again."
Luffy's hand clenched into a fist, his voice full of conviction. "You won't. I promise you won't."
Even Mihawk paused, gazing at Zoro with faint admiration.
"To become Pirate King," he said, "is a goal even harder than becoming the greatest swordsman in the world."
Now, Zoro's two blades lay broken, leaving only his treasured heirloom — Wado Ichimonji.
That sword was sacred to him — a relic of his promise to Kuina. There was no way he'd lend it out.
So, Ron turned instead to Johnny and Yosaku.
"Sword Saint? Blade God?" the two repeated blankly.
They looked at each other, utterly lost.
When had they ever earned such titles?
Ron saw their confusion and smiled faintly.
He slipped a bundle of Berries into their hands.
"Actually, I'm a swordsman myself," he said. "But my blade was shattered in my last battle. I've yet to find a replacement."
"Now that the world's greatest swordsman stands before me… how could I not challenge him?"
The deck fell silent.
Every chef, pirate, and bystander froze, staring in disbelief.
He—the man who could crush cannonballs in his bare hands and fling iron faster than sound—was claiming to be a swordsman?
That had to be a joke.
A swordsman? Him?
What kind of swordsman fights with his fists and throws metal like artillery?!
"Which swordsman in the world is that violent?" one cook muttered under his breath, earning a few nervous chuckles.
But Ron's expression was deadly serious.
His calm, unwavering eyes told them he wasn't joking.
A challenge that seemed absurd moments ago… was now becoming terrifyingly real.
"You… you're a swordsman?"
Zoro blinked in disbelief.
Even his pain seemed to fade for a moment.
His jaw tightened.
If Ron was truly a swordsman, then surely his "broken weapon" wasn't lost in battle — he probably crushed it himself out of boredom.
"Don't do it! You'll die for nothing!" Johnny shouted, panicked.
He hadn't seen what Ron did inside the restaurant earlier.
"All due respect, but even my big bro couldn't beat Mihawk! What chance do you have?!"
Yosaku nodded quickly, eyes wide.
Their blades weren't special — not even "Grade" swords.
They were solid and reliable, sure, but nowhere near the level of a real swordsman's weapon. Lending them out would be the same as signing Ron's death warrant.
"Oi! You two, stop saying nonsense!" Zoro barked, cutting them off.
Their flustered praise made it sound like they thought he was stronger than Ron — which couldn't be further from the truth.
Zoro knew exactly how terrifying Ron was.
That iron ball thrown at supersonic speed? Not even he could parry something like that.
He looked at Ron, eyes steady.
"Give him the swords," Zoro said.
Both Johnny and Yosaku froze.
"Big bro—?"
Zoro's tone was firm. "Do it."
He had already faced his defeat.
Now, he wanted to witness something else — to see what kind of swordsmanship Ron truly wielded.
"Understood."
The two bounty hunters hesitated only for a moment before handing over their blades.
Ron picked one up casually, testing its balance.
Then, with deliberate, confident strides, he walked toward Mihawk.
Mihawk, who had just turned to leave, stopped in his tracks.
He narrowed his eyes as Ron approached.
Another challenger?
He sighed softly. "Another fool who doesn't know his place."
He'd spared Zoro out of respect — because the young man's will had shone brighter than fear.
But patience had its limits.
Not everyone deserved the courtesy of restraint.
"Please," Ron said, stopping at the same spot where Zoro had stood moments ago.
He lifted the blade in one hand, a faint smile on his lips.
"Grant me the honor of crossing swords with the world's greatest."
"You're not afraid of dying?"
Mihawk's voice was cold, his gaze sharp as a knife's edge.
"You saw what happened to Roronoa Zoro, didn't you? Do you think you'll fare better? Is that courage… or ignorance?"
Mihawk's eyes flicked down to the borrowed weapon in Ron's hand.
A swordsman without his own blade — it was almost insulting.
And yet, there was something in the man's stance that kept Mihawk from dismissing him entirely.
"I held back once," Mihawk said, his tone turning icy. "I don't hold back twice."
He had already decided — this one would not walk away unscathed.
But Ron only grinned, tilting his head.
"Life and death are fate's problem, not mine."
"If it's swordsmanship alone you want to test…" he said calmly, his voice carrying over the wind, "I won't lose."
Then, with a playful spark in his eyes, he added,
"Assuming, of course… you don't use Haki."
The words struck like lightning.
The meaning was clear — try to hurt me first.
Big Mom herself had spent decades in battle without suffering a single scar. Ron's body was made of that same indestructible foundation.
His tone was casual, almost mocking.
Mihawk's eyes narrowed.
Few had ever dared provoke him so brazenly.
He slowly reached behind his back.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
The moment his hand gripped the hilt, a storm of invisible pressure rolled across the deck.
"Very well," Mihawk said quietly. "If you wish to die by the blade…"
He drew Yoru, the Black Sword — the blade that could cleave oceans.
"…then I shall grant your wish."