Mihawk’s hand, having put away the tiny toy knife, slowly reached behind his back.
A cross-shaped hilt larger than the man himself.
The rough sea wind abruptly died away. Beneath the bizarre pressure that seemed to drag the entire atmosphere down to the seabed, the restaurant’s cooks gripping the railing sucked in breaths and stumbled backward.
Shiiing—
What slid free from its sheath was—
a gigantic blade, dark and sharp as pitch-black night.
The world’s strongest black blade, Yoru, giving off a weighty gleam as though it would swallow even the sunlight spilling over the ravaged horizon.
"...He drew the black blade?!"
Zoro’s body, sprawled limply on the small boat while coughing up blood, convulsed violently.
With bloodied hands, Zoro clawed at the clothes of Johnny and Yosaku, who were holding him up.
"H-help me up..."
"Brother! You can’t move! Your wounds will split open—!!"
"Shut up and get me on my feet...! I have to see it... I have to see that sword with my own eyes... I have to watch that fight to the very end...!!"
Even as he spat blood, Zoro’s wide-eyed gaze locked onto Mihawk, standing with the black blade in hand, then dropped to the sword at my waist as I faced him.
"Your name."
Holding the black blade at a slant, Mihawk asked curtly.
It felt as though all the blood in my body were flowing backward.
Merely blocking the flying slash from that toy knife had made the tiny blood vessels in both my forearms burst, leaving them throbbing. And now that madman was openly leveling that monstrous greatsword at me—the very blade he had swung just once to shatter Zoro’s ultimate technique to pieces.
Bitter fluid surged up my throat, but I forced the corners of my mouth upward.
If my nerve broke here, I would be cut in two before I even got the chance to cross blades with him.
If only to survive, I gathered every scrap of defiance in my body and flicked up the brim of my tricorne.
"...Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Jack Sparrow."
Mihawk’s golden eyes flashed in a crescent arc.
"I will remember that."
Boom—!!
The instant the fragments of wood beneath Mihawk’s feet plunged into the water, his figure vanished completely from sight.
Fast. Far beyond anything the eye could follow.
Only the murderous intent, like a needle piercing the nape of my neck, cut through the air.
Swoooosh—!!
As though squeezing my heart dry, I poured every ounce of strength from the depths of my chest into my wrist.
The old cutlass howled as if in agony, and an inky black aura spilled over the blade, crawling up my fist and wrist like a solid gauntlet.
Then, without hesitation, I brought my sword down diagonally at the empty air.
Kraaaang—!!!!
Sparks exploded in midair.
My cutlass, dyed jet-black,
clashed head-on with the sharp edge of Yoru, the colossal black blade that had rushed in without a sound.
Krrrack!
A compressed shockwave erupted from the point where the blades met, gouging the water beneath our feet into a huge circular hollow like the lid of an enormous cauldron.
"Ghhhk...!!"
My teeth clenched so tightly they felt ready to shatter.
It did not feel like colliding with a lump of steel.
It was an overwhelming mass, as though an entire colossal fortress wall had rammed me head-on.
But the moment I got pushed back, it was over.
Using my characteristically loose, swaying footwork, I twisted my body and deflected the path of his slash. Then, using the rebound, I immediately drove the point of my sword toward Mihawk’s throat.
Clang! Clang-clang—!!
A storm of sword strikes unfolded.
One exchange, two exchanges, three.
In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen blades crossed in midair.
Black afterimages pouring from above the sea and enormous emerald flashes mercilessly tore apart Baratie’s deck.
"I-I can’t see them...!"
Patty screamed, clutching his head.
"That’s a swordsmen’s fight?! I can’t even follow it with my eyes!!"
The fierce-looking cooks holding kitchen knives had all gone pale, their jaws hanging slack.
The cigarette clenched between Sanji’s lips fell to the floor.
"They’re... evenly matched...?"
"No way, right?! That guy is crossing blades on equal footing with Hawk Eyes, the world’s strongest—!!"
Even Luffy could only stare, eyes round and mouth agape.
Two swords cutting across the sea.
To anyone watching, it looked like a fierce, dead-even duel between the world’s greatest swordsman and an unknown pirate—one that far surpassed every notion of what was possible in East Blue.
But—
Evenly matched...? Don’t give me that bullshit...!!
Amid that bloodthirsty storm of blades, my spine was turning ice-cold.
They were being fooled. Those bastards watching from afar, and even Zoro, bleeding as he watched—every one of them was being deceived by that man’s cruel performance.
We were not evenly matched.
He’s humoring me...!
It was horrifyingly clear.
Mihawk was not fighting with all his strength.
He was swinging his black blade in time with the speed of my sword, parrying with precisely the same weight as the power of the black aura coating my blade.
Like an adult keeping pace with a child who had only just picked up a sword.
No matter how I desperately twisted my trajectories, slipping into his blind spots with the flexibility of a snake and thrusting in my blade—
Clang.
Mihawk’s colossal black blade knocked aside my sword tip with no more than the slightest movement, utterly calm and without wasting even a single millimeter.
Not one exchange.
Not a single thrust,
came anywhere near so much as brushing that man’s clothes.
He’s... testing me.
As if he wanted to see what sort of vessel this bizarre intruder who had appeared in the placid puddle called East Blue really was.
With cool golden eyes, Mihawk was dissecting every detail of me—my breathing, the tremors in my muscles, the density of the black aura on my blade.
"Haa... Haa...!"
My lungs burned as if they were being torn apart.
The ligaments in my wrist screamed as though they would snap, and the jet-black aura I had been forcibly squeezing out began to fade.
One misstep, and that gigantic black blade would cleave my body in two with a single stroke.
Every instant we crossed blades was a hell of running barefoot across thin ice.
Kraaaang—!!
Once again, the blades sprang apart amid a massive shockwave.
We stood at point-blank range, our sword hilts locked against each other with crushing force.
Mihawk’s cool golden eyes looked straight down at my ragged breath, which had risen to my chin.
The man’s low, subdued voice
slid coldly into my ears.
"...Your breathing is breaking down."
It was a completely dispassionate remark, as if an examiner were looking over a test paper.
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