The castle courtyard was wide enough to hold a small army.
Weathered statues lined the outer walls, many missing heads or arms, while fallen leaves moved across the cracked stone in restless circles.
The air carried the dry scent of old masonry and steel, and above the courtyard, the dark towers of the castle cut into the cloudy sky.
Dracule Mihawk stood at the center with Yoru resting across his back.
His gaze settled first on Zaraki, then shifted briefly toward Law.
"Trafalgar Law," Mihawk said. "Transporting a Marine while sailing beneath a pirate flag is an unusual way to preserve your freedom."
Law's expression remained unreadable.
"He is not here as part of a Marine operation."
"That distinction may matter to you."
Mihawk returned his attention to Zaraki.
"It will not matter to the World Government if they learn of it."
"They won't," Zaraki said.
Mihawk watched him for a moment, then the faintest hint of amusement touched his face.
"No," he said. "I imagine anyone who followed you here would have more immediate problems."
Zaraki stepped farther into the courtyard.
"Marine Headquarters special envoy Zaraki."
"I know who you are."
"Good! that saves time."
Law moved toward the edge of the courtyard, placing several ruined pillars between himself and the two swordsmen.
He was not hiding.
He simply believed deeply in the value of having solid stone between himself and whatever came next.
Mihawk's eyes lowered to Nozarashi.
"You crossed the sea to ask me about that sword."
Zaraki rested one hand on the hilt.
"Can a blade be hungry enough to eat its owner?"
Law glanced toward him, perhaps expecting Mihawk to dismiss the question.
"A normal blade cannot."
"And that one?" Law asked.
Mihawk's gaze remained fixed on Nozarashi.
"That is not a normal blade."
The courtyard fell quiet.
Mihawk stepped closer, though he did not reach for the weapon.
He studied it with the same attention he would have given an unfamiliar opponent—measuring, comparing, and refusing to make assumptions.
"The swords of this world may possess temperament," he said. "Cursed blades can influence weak wielders, sharpen violent impulses, or reject anyone unworthy of carrying them. A sword may also be tempered through battle until the wielder's Haki changes it permanently."
"A Black Blade," Law said.
"Yes."
Mihawk's hawk-like eyes narrowed.
"But do not confuse that process with what is happening here."
He looked directly at Zaraki.
"A Black Blade is still a blade. Yours is alive."
Law's fingers tightened around Kikoku.
Mihawk continued.
"The darkness surrounding its edge is spiritual pressure, not permanent Armament Haki. Its hunger is not a curse placed inside the steel by a craftsman or former owner. It possesses a will of its own, and that will is bound to yours."
Zaraki's expression sharpened.
"So how do I keep it from taking too much?"
"You stop treating every release as permission to devour everything."
Mihawk answered without hesitation.
"You are not losing control because the sword is stronger than you. You lose control because both of you desire the same thing, and neither of you has ever considered restraint a virtue."
Nozarashi gave a low vibration inside its sheath.
Zaraki felt the woman laughing.
Mihawk heard it too.
His gaze moved almost imperceptibly toward the blade.
"You can hear it now."
"Since three days ago."
"And you believe that means you understand it?"
"No."
Zaraki's grin returned.
"That's why I came."
For the first time since their arrival, Mihawk's expression showed something close to approval.
"Good."
He reached over one shoulder and drew Yoru.
The enormous Black Blade came free without a sound.
Law immediately moved another step behind the pillars.
Mihawk lowered Yoru's point toward the ground.
"Words will not answer your question."
Zaraki's hand closed around Nozarashi.
"Finally!"
"If you want me to judge the bond between you and that sword, show it to me."
Dark-gold Reiatsu stirred around Zaraki's body.
"Drink, Nozarashi."
The sealed katana expanded into its Shikai form.
The enormous chipped cleaver settled into Zaraki's grip with savage familiarity.
Hunger flowed up his arm, but this time he kept the stream of Reiatsu narrow, granting Nozarashi enough to wake fully without allowing it to tear through everything he possessed.
Mihawk watched the transformation without blinking.
"So that is its true form."
Zaraki lowered his stance.
"Try not to disappoint me."
Mihawk's expression remained calm.
"You survived Kaido and immediately became arrogant enough to speak that way to me."
"No."
Zaraki's golden eyes burned with anticipation.
"I spoke this way before Kaido too."
He moved.
The courtyard cracked beneath his first step.
Nozarashi came down in a brutal diagonal arc, carrying enough force to tear through the tower behind Mihawk if the strike passed him cleanly.
Yoru rose.
The two blades met.
Boom!
A circular shockwave swept through the courtyard, ripping leaves from the trees and sending loose stones hammering against the outer walls.
Law braced one hand against a pillar as the pressure rolled over him.
Zaraki's grin widened.
Mihawk had stopped Nozarashi.
Yoru had met the cleaver at exactly the right angle, taking the immense force behind Zaraki's swing and guiding most of it away from Mihawk's body and into the ground.
A long crack raced across the courtyard.
Mihawk's boots had not even moved.
"Too much strength," he said.
Zaraki pushed harder.
Mihawk's eyes remained cold.
"Too little blade."
Yoru shifted.
The change was slight, barely more than a turn of the wrist, but Zaraki felt his balance disappear.
Mihawk redirected Nozarashi past his shoulder and stepped inside the cleaver's reach before Zaraki could recover.
The cross-shaped hilt of Yoru struck Zaraki in the chest.
He flew backward and landed on his feet several meters away, boots tearing two trenches through the stone before he stopped near a ruined fountain.
Pain flared beneath Law's bandages.
Zaraki looked down at the darkening cloth over his ribs, then raised his eyes again.
Mihawk rested Yoru against one shoulder.
"If that is all you learned from Kaido," he said, "you crossed the sea for nothing."
Zaraki laughed.
The sound rolled through the courtyard, delighted and utterly free of restraint.
"That's better."
Nozarashi's hunger surged in answer.
This time, Zaraki did not suppress it entirely.
He chose how much to feed.