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It's the curiosity, in the end.
Or maybe the boredom…? The two are much too hard to differentiate these days, really; but there is certainly some driving action behind Mihawk's hand the moment it sets a course for the East Blue. A log pose to Goa Kingdom had been easy enough to procure, despite how unwanted the knowledge had been in the first place. Damn that Garp. Dragon had been right, the one meaningful encounter he'd had with the man had been… distinctly unpleasant. While Garp had made it very clear he neither expected nor wanted any contact between his new grandson and his biological donor, and had sworn up and down that Mihawk wouldn't hear a word from him on where the child was staying…
...On one hand he kept that word and maintained a chilly silent treatment of the warlord from that moment onward. On the other hand, it wasn't hard to pick things up anyway given that the vice admiral would not shut up talking about his grandson to literally anyone else who would listen. Luckily Mihawk didn't have to count on being in contact with him on a regular basis, but the first time he overheard Garp blatantly running his mouth about his cute grandson who would no doubt grow up to be a fine, outstanding marine someday, who already took after his side of the family so much and that he was currently very happily being raised back in his hometown in the Goa Kingdom, you know, Windmill Village, a peaceful bay town on the other side of the island, couldn't miss it, friendliest place around—
Well. It was one damn time too many. Mihawk had fervently scrubbed the information out of his mind and set out to pick a fight with someone strong enough to make it stick.
Maybe the resounding disappointment on that front was the reason the first seed of curiosity had taken root, and refused to be removed. In the first year it was easy enough to shake away; the denial was still strong enough, then. And Dragon had come and gone so quickly, not nearly enough time to process, but… by the second year, less so. He was secure in his position as World's Strongest Swordsman, but too much so— all his fights these days were too easy, too… boring. Shanks was a challenge still, but he had no interest in Mihawk's title, and there was no one else with nearly enough skill to pose a threat these days. So in his boredom, between the infrequent demands his position required, idle thoughts turned to Goa Kingdom, and to Windmill village. As much as he didn't want them to.
By the third year, the intrusive thoughts morphed into some kind of frustrated curiosity. Back at Marine HQ, Garp still spoke glowingly of his grandson no matter who happened to be in earshot. Everyone seemed used enough to his rambling to the point that they tuned out as soon as he got started. Garp's grandson this, Garp's grandson that… Did anyone know, Mihawk idly wondered, anything at all about the boy other than his relation to the vice admiral? The more he thought, the more he wondered if that was Garp's play all along, to desensitize everyone around him to the point that no one would willingly go out of their way to ask questions if it meant being flooded with the inane babbles of a besotted grandparent. All the better to keep the deeper, more meaningful questions away, such as on the issue of parentage.
Yes, being blood-related to one of the seven warlords would be no easy thing for the Marines, or the World government, to overlook, but they rested assured that they had said warlords more or less by the leash no matter how far the lead ran (a thought that still rankled more often than not.) As it stood Mihawk felt zero personal connection to the… thing out there even if it did share his eyes, and the Government would be sorely disappointed if they tried holding it against him. But things had been suspiciously quiet on that matter. He had the suspicion it was on account of the other half of the equation.
Monkey D. Dragon was making a name for herself, and that name had created exceedingly large waves through the oceans. Despite the efforts of many, the Revolutionaries had gained a firm foothold in world events and this had not gone unnoticed. That she had become such a threat in the eye of the world government was an ugly black spot in their otherwise stable books, and they were getting desperate enough that any chance to remove her from power would be taken, at any cost. It was a wonder that Monkey D. Garp still had his position. Bad enough that the daughter of a man with such a stellar record had gone so against the grain, that she'd had a child with a warlord of all things was another slap in the face.
It was almost amusing, actually. It could only be through the sheer strength of Garp's reputation that the child was being left along at all. A better chance than most. Though, given Garp's confidence in his grandson's future career path, there might be more at play. Yes, better for the child to be known as the grandson of one of the Marine's finest and only that, rather than the son of the revolutionary… and the warlord. The curiosity, though… oh, the curiosity, the grim humor of it all that such a child existed and was allowed to exist… it was interesting. More the concept than the child himself, and that he'd contributed to this paradox like it or not.
In the fourth year, this paradoxal child became the sole point of interest in an increasingly monotonous life. And so, in a mixture of boredom, of curiosity, of the memory of a woman who can't seem to stop meddling in his life long after she's abruptly left it, Dracule Mihawk sets a course and sails for the East Blue.
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Kind of expositional for this one, I just wanted to finish it. Next one should be mostly dialogue lol.
…errr do you think Garp would openly talk about Windmill village...? Maybe just to other marines…? Well he does here but only in earshot of the high ranking folks who probably have access to that knowledge anyway but also to warlords who conveniently aren't supposed to be hearing it anyway lmao.