Chapter 107 - A fight without fighting
"Hey, everyone! Get outside, there's a show about to start!" A thrilled man burst into the pub.
"Show?" Ryu questioned, his eyebrow arching in surprise.
"Yeah, Mihawk's here!" The man announced excitedly, prompting some of the patrons to scramble outside with a mix of eagerness and dread.
"Mihawk? Who's that?" Yoruichi inquired, lounging back in her chair with legs on the table, looking cheeky.
"You don't know Mihawk? Been living under a rock or something? He's the world's greatest swordsman!" The man exclaimed.
"What's he doing in a place like this?" Ryu wondered, while Yoruichi's grin turned wicked.
"Mihawk's one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. They don't have a ton of rules, but each Warlord has to bring a certain number of pirate heads to the World Government every month to keep their title. They work for 'em, after all," the man clarified.
"But what's that got to do with this place? It sounded like Mihawk drops by often," Ryu probed curiously.
"Ah, right. You see, Mihawk's a Warlord 'cause he doesn't want the Marines or Pirates bugging him. But honestly, he doesn't give a damn about much. Every few months he forgets to hunt down enough pirates, and since this joint's packed with 'em, he swings by to fill his quota now and then. It's a hoot watching all the pirates scatter from him," the man chuckled.
"Huh, that does sound entertaining. Do you want to watch the show, Yoruichi?" Ryu asked as he turned to his girlfriend. But seeing the smile on her face made him realize they are about to do a lot more than just watch.
"Screw watching, I want to fight him," Yoruichi said excitedly as she got up.
"Yoruichi, wa-" Ryu couldn't finish his sentence before Yoruichi disappeared from her spot with incredible speed.
"*Sigh*, should've known," Ryu muttered as he followed his problematic partner.
---
The sun had begun to set, casting an eerie orange glow over the once-busy port town. Now, however, all eyes were glued staring at an object that neared the city's beach. The waves lapped gently against the sand, bringing with them an ominous black boat that seemed to materialize out of the shadows.
The boat was coffin-like in shape, with the edges adorned by candles that burned with an unnatural green fire. It was a small vessel, clearly designed to accommodate only one person.
At the heart of this mysterious ship stood a mast resembling a large crucifix, echoing the design of the sword its sole occupant wielded. The ship's black sails billowed softly in the wind, and at the helm sat a tall, lean, and muscular man with an imposing presence.
His black hair, short beard, mustache, and upward-pointing sideburns framed a face dominated by piercing red eyes that were akin to a hawk's gaze.
The man, known as Mihawk, was clad in an ornate ensemble of black and red clothing, reminiscent of a Spanish swordsman. He donned a wide-brimmed black hat, adorned with a large plume that fluttered in the sea breeze.
His long, open black coat with red velvet lining exposed his bare chest, while the sleeves and collar bore intricate red flower patterns. White pants, held up by a decorated belt, were tucked into black boots with two leather straps wrapped around them.
A golden cross-shaped necklace hung around Mihawk's neck, housing a small dagger that bore a striking resemblance to the larger sword, Yoru, strapped to his back.
As the ship neared the beach, the green flames from the candles cast an eerie light on the surrounding area, drawing the attention of the townspeople that waited to see Mihawk's next move.
Mihawk's vessel glided silently toward the shore, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the waves against the boat's hull. The air grew heavier, the sense of tension palpable among the crowd.
As Mihawk's eerie vessel settled onto the wet sands, he gracefully stepped off the coffin-shaped ship, his boots leaving deep impressions in the sand. The candles' green flames flickered, casting dancing shadows across his face and accentuating the intensity of his hawk-like eyes.
As Mihawk scanned the beach, a peculiar sight caught his attention; he wasn't alone. A woman, who seemed to materialize out of thin air, stood a dozen meters away from him. Her lively demeanor was evident in the way she held herself.
"You're the world's strongest swordsman?" Yoruichi inquired, her voice laced with anticipation.
"Indeed. And who might you be? A pirate?" Mihawk asked, his gaze examining Yoruichi. At first glance, she appeared to be just another overconfident swordsman, and Mihawk had encountered plenty of them. Yet, there was something more to her—an aura that mere confidence couldn't provide. To emanate the sensation Mihawk sensed, one needed skill.
"Nope, just someone who wants to have a duel with you. Do you mind?" Yoruichi asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Before Mihawk could respond, a voice unexpectedly chimed in beside him, startling the usually controlled swordsman.
"You're not skilled enough to challenge Mihawk just yet, Yoruichi. At least, not if we're talking pure swordsmanship. If you want, I can train you some more. I think you'll be able to take him on in about a month or two if you give it your all," Ryu said nonchalantly, having appeared near Mihawk without a sound.
Mihawk's eyes narrowed as he quickly reached for his sword. "How did you get near me?" he demanded, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue.
"Skill," Ryu replied with a casual shrug.
"Do you also want to test yourself against me?" Mihawk asked as he drew his majestic weapon, Yoru.
Yoru emanated an aura of pure power and elegance. The black blade, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, spanned about two meters in length and possessed a unique curvature, giving it an ominous and menacing presence. As the blade caught the gentle sunset light, its obsidian surface gleamed with an otherworldly sheen.
The intricate golden crossguard, adorned with blood-red gemstones, showcased the perfect marriage of beauty and functionality, while the bandage-wrapped hilt provided a secure grip, ensuring unwavering control in the heat of battle.
"... You know what? Sure, why not? I see you're bored with swordsmanship, you think you've reached its apex. Allow me to prove you wrong," Ryu said after examining Mihawk with Rikai.
"You're saying that my level doesn't even compare to yours? Can you back up your words?" Ryu asked calmly, though a spark of anger could be seen in his eyes.
"Why don't you use future sight and see for yourself? I think it's the best way I can get the message across," Ryu offered as Mihawk got into his combat stance.
Although slightly suspicious, Mihawk's eyes narrowed as he activated his future sight, intending to anticipate Ryu's future moves. While he rarely used that ability during fights, something about Ryu told him that he should listen. And his intuition was rarely wrong.
The first vision he saw was startling. Within a split second, Mihawk's viewpoint spun around, as he found himself staring at his own body. To his shock, he saw himself decapitated, blood gushing from his neck while Ryu was causally removing the blood from one of his swords by swinging it.
The sight sent a shiver down Mihawk's spine. He had reached the peak of swordsmanship through incredible effort, resulting in no one being his match. Slowly but surely he lost the passion he once had, the excitement he once felt replaced by boredom.
But this time was different. He felt his heart beating strongly as a glint of excitement popped into his eyes. Mihawk focused on Ryu's movements, trying to find a weakness he could exploit.
In the next scenario Mihawk foresaw, he attempted to catch Ryu off-guard by feigning a strike from the left only to attack from the right. Yet, Ryu seemed completely unfazed, casually dodging the blow and responding with a swift counterattack.
Mihawk's blade shattered into pieces, and his own body was left riddled with lethal cuts. He couldn't believe what he was seeing—his defeat in less than ten seconds, while Ryu didn't even break a sweat.
Refusing to accept this outcome, Mihawk tried another approach. He envisioned himself using a more defensive strategy, attempting to block and parry Ryu's attacks to wear him down. However, the result was the same.
Ryu effortlessly broke through his defenses, and in the blink of an eye, Mihawk found himself lying on the ground, defeated, with his sword reduced to shards.
Mihawk was at a loss. Every vision he had, every strategy he tried, ended in his defeat. Ryu seemed to anticipate every move he made, never taking the duel seriously. The man's calm demeanor, and almost bored expression, only added to Mihawk's frustration yet excited him immensely at the same time. The spark of passion that he had lost was slowly returning.
Meanwhile, Ryu stood patiently, observing Mihawk with an amused smile. It was as if he knew the outcome of every scenario Mihawk played out in his mind, and he couldn't help but enjoy the bafflement on the world's strongest swordsman's face.
As Mihawk continued to explore different scenarios, the faraway crowd watched the bizarre sight with confusion. The silence of the duel was almost deafening, only punctuated by the crashing of waves and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Finally, Mihawk let out a deep breath as the realization washed over him. Ryu far outclassed him, yet he was not upset. No, he was... Happy? For the first time in years, the dull and uncaring look in Mihawk's eyes vanished, replaced by a bright spark of excitement and passion.
"I must admit, you are far beyond my abilities," Mihawk said, his voice filled with newfound respect. "I am not fit to face you today. However, I promise you that the day will come when we will have our duel."
Ryu smiled and nodded, appreciating the sincerity in Mihawk's words. "I look forward to that day, Mihawk. It will be a battle to remember."
As Mihawk turned to walk away, he paused for a moment, glancing back at Ryu. "What should I call you?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I'm Ryu, the Wandering Blacksmith," Ryu replied with a smirk.
With that, Mihawk boarded his black coffin-like boat, the candles on its edges burning with an eerie green flame. As the boat began to drift away from the shore, Mihawk's resolve strengthened. A prospect of growth and self-improvement ignited a fire within him that he hadn't felt in years.