Hey everyone,

first of all, I am very sorry I haven't posted the last two times. Real life caught up with me and some things happened I had to take care of, so I had no possiblity and no time to post. But now I'm back and I thought about something to make up for it (although it will probably not be good for my stats, but hey, I never really posted for those ;-P ).
So to compensate the lost updates - and honestly also to celebrate chapter 26, because it's one of my favorites - I will post this weekend one chapter each day! Yes, that's right. The next chapter (27) will be comming tomorrow, on Saturday, on Sunday it will be chapter 28, and on monday we'll be back on regular updating schedule with chapter 29. So I hope you guys have a lot of free time (or do not need a lot of sleep^^')! Be ready for a whole weekend of our two favorite idiotic swordsmen ;-)

Oh, and before I forget, on top of that, tomorrow will be the opening night of my new fic 'worth a life', which will be updated weekly, but don't worry, I am well prepared to be able to manage both (yes, if I'm totally honest, those last few weeks kind of sucked with those last days being a sad peak of shittines and I missed working on my fics and communicating with you guys, so I really want to celebrate that I can continue to be part of writing and this fandom, no matter what shit happens in real life, so this is just my way to say thank you to this awesome community)

And now, I've babbled enough, thank you for your lovely comments, they held me up when things got rough, and now enjoy the show!


Chapter 26 - Haki

-Mihawk-

"I am coming, Roronoa, stop looking at me like that." Yawning, he stretched and walked down the dark hallway.

At the other end, the youngster waited for him, little more than a rough shadow in the darkness, and yet Mihawk was able to recognize him very well.

Kuraigana did not have much of seasons, the weather rarely changed, but like all other islands, this little piece of land was dependent on the sun, which by now had not shown up for days. Much to his displeasure; as the solar time decreased, so did his mood.

But Roronoa was not to be stopped. Every morning he was up early and had probably been running for several laps before Mihawk himself even thought about getting out of bed, but he did not mind.

Mihawk usually got up around the time the youngster had already showered and eaten breakfast, in whatever order. He personally was not a fan of the most important meal of the day and as long as his coffee was waiting for him in the entrance hall, he was satisfied.

Yesterday evening had been late.

Needless to say, that as always they had been training for hours, but by the time Mihawk had been ready to go to bed, the youngster had unexpectedly appeared in the doorway, holding a green file with the emblem of the World Government.

Rubbing his neck, Roronoa had explained that he had received documents from Eizen but did not understand them. It had been visibly unpleasant and embarrassing for Roronoa. But although Mihawk was reluctant to support Eizen in his intrigues, and although he was not fond of any paperwork at all, he had nevertheless sat down with the youngster and had worked through the documents.

He could not understand why it was so important for the other to deal with the affiliation between international and national law, but it seemed important to Roronoa, so Mihawk had shrugged his shoulders and accepted it without asking further.

It had even been quite entertaining, Mihawk himself had dealt with such things every day years and years ago, but he had always thought of it as tiresome, yet yesterday he had liked to explain those things to the youngster. But maybe only because Roronoa was quite dull when it came to theory.

It was not uncommon for Mihawk to have to repeat himself several times and often he had to check if Roronoa had actually understood it, only to receive a shameful headshaking.

It was obvious that Roronoa had never dealt with things like politics, state structures, and country relations, and often his simple sense of justice and his childish morals stood in his way. It was somehow cute that the youngster often insisted on solidarity and righteousness, almost naively, and those worldviews did definitely not want to fit the bloodthirsty former pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro.

On the other hand, Mihawk had to admit that the other had at least been well prepared. He had known names, places, terms. He had prepared himself before asking for help. No, not only prepared, he had in fact educated himself. Roronoa, for whatever reason, had educated himself in something else than the art of the sword.

Mihawk had actually doubted that the younger one even had the necessary brain capacity. His knowledge and concentration always seemed to orbit solely around sword fighting, and his interest also declined drastically as soon as his beloved sword art was no longer the matter of conversations.

So Mihawk had practiced patience – and yes, he had to be very patient – and helped Roronoa.

But that had happened several hours ago and now it was all about swordfight again.

"You're late," the youngster grumbled disapprovingly, folding his arms.

"Have you slept at all?" Mihawk replied, yawning for another time as he caught up with the other.

"At my age, a few hours are enough." Roronoa grinned evil while Mihawk glared at him.

Sighing, he walked past the other.

"Will you ever be tired of mocking me because of my age?" He muttered as the other followed him.

"Not as long as you make it that easy for me," Roronoa chuckled, and it sounded almost childish.

Shaking his head, Mihawk kept walking and quickly reached the entrance, where, as usual, a cup of hot coffee was waiting for him.

"Did you do everything as I told you?" He said more calmly, taking a sip.

"If you are talking about me not transforming overnight, then yes, I didn't."

Thus, Roronoa had been in his original form for exactly one day by now.

"And how long do you have until you will have to turn back?"

Mihawk had a plan, after all, he never let it be a matter of chance like a certain someone.

"The way it feels I guess not more than two hours," the other replied, closing in on him as they left the castle. "But why? What's the deal behind it?"

With his eyebrow raised, he looked down to the younger one and now he was the one, who smiled evil.

"In my humble opinion you are ready," he finally replied as they reached the ruins. "Today is the day."

For a second, the other looked at him confused, but then he grew pale.

"What? But my armor is still everything but strong and hardening only works so-so, so I don't..."

"Roronoa, I am the teacher here; I decide what we are doing and when I say you are ready, you are ready."

Since the youngster had returned from his trip with Eizen, several weeks had passed and Roronoa had steadily improved, his control had reached a quite passable quality during this time and he was now able to harden his body for a short amount of time, and the six months that Roronoa had set himself were not over just yet.

It was time to take the next step. Of course, they could still spend weeks perfecting the two Haki forms, but that was unnecessary. Roronoa would not need Mihawk for that, he could continue that training on his own if necessary.

No, they slowly had to start with the sword fight, to actually fight, but for that, Roronoa had to learn how to expand his armor around objects and Mihawk knew that Roronoa was afraid of it. He was afraid that the object would break in his hand and that he would lose control; a legitimate fear, Mihawk even admitted, but nevertheless they could not be stopped by it.

If Mihawk was honest, he actually wanted to see it. He wanted to see what was going to happen. On the one hand, he could only deal with the problem if he knew what it was all about, and on the other hand, the story of the youngster had made him curious.

With quiet movements, he took off his vest and watched attentively how the younger man behaved. Roronoa had turned his gaze away and was breathing heavily, obviously he was worried, even if he did not show it as clearly as Mihawk had expected.

"Try to relax," he gently advised, "everything will be fine."

The other met his eyes briefly before looking away again.

Mihawk, however, was not a fool, he had made arrangements. Roronoa was already near the edge of having to turn into Loreen, so if he would lose control in case of a case, he would probably turn automatically or at least within a short time and Mihawk suspected that this monster was only part of Roronoa Zoro and not of Lady Loreen.

Of course, these were all just speculations, and even Mihawk could be wrong, but he was quite certain.

"Well, let us start."

He could see the other tensing up, his hands clenched to fists, his jaw tightened, this way nothing would be going to work.

Quietly, he sighed.

"Look, Roronoa, I said look up! I will demonstrate what you have to do." Effortlessly, he lifted a bamboo stick from a prepositioned mountain of bamboo pipes and held it to the other.

Surprised, the younger one did look up finally.

"What? Did you think we would start with real swords?"

"Uhm..."

"I might like the challenge, but do you really think I would risk destroying a sword?"

He smiled quietly as Roronoa nodded to himself and took a deep breath.

"It is actually quite easy, activating Busoshoku Haki, hardening, coating. The last two points can be exchanged at will. Depending what is appropriate to the situation." While he was speaking, he had done just that, and he was delighted to see Roronoa's eyes grow large as the bamboo turned black.

"I repeat," he said, "look carefully: Busoshoku, hardening, coating."

This time he slowed down so Roronoa could watch exactly what he was doing.

The youngster already knew enough about the theoretical basics, after all they had spent many evenings at the chessboard discussing them, nevertheless Mihawk sometimes liked to repeat one or the other.

"And now it is your turn." He offered the bamboo to the other. "Now take it, it does not bite, promised."

Again, he could not prevent a smile when Roronoa looked at him with something that could have been annoyance, if it were not for the obvious uncertainty. Then the other grabbed the stick as if his life depended on it.

"Why don't you let go?" The younger one asked, astonished.

"I need to be able to determine exactly what you are doing to see your mistakes. It is easier if I touch the object you try to coat."

The younger one just nodded and said nothing.

"Ready?" He asked, and Roronoa nodded again. "Well, then as I showed you. First Busoshoku."

The other followed his instructions.

"Harden now, hands and forearms are enough. Not that you exhaust yourself right away."

Mihawk wondered if Roronoa did notice how easy it was for him to use hardening by now and that without being limited in his movement in the least. Again, Roronoa took a deep breath, his eyes stubbornly directed at the bamboo stick.

"And now coat up to the half."

For a fraction of a second, the other's gaze flashed up to him, and another wrinkle of concern formed on his serious face.

"Relax Roronoa. It will be alright."

"I know," the other growled, and slowly Mihawk could watch the black coat spreading over the stick.

"Oh."

"What... what is it?"

Almost automatically, the armor disappeared when Roronoa let go of the bamboo and even stepped half a step back, sounding as frightened as Jiroushin when Mihawk pointed out a spider.

"Do not just let go, Roronoa. If it had been something bad, I would have taken the stick away from you."

"Yes, but... what did you notice?" The younger man looked at him seriously, but his eyes were different than usual and Mihawk realized that he did not like the way the other looked right now, although he could not define exactly why.

"I am not quite sure yet."

"What?"

Scoldingly he raised his free hand.

"What do you expect? You let go far too quickly. Come on, do it again."

In response, he offered the stick again and Roronoa reached out. Almost instantly, the end that the other held turned black.

"That is enough," Mihawk muttered, analyzing what was happening. He could feel the tingling of the foreign Haki, which flooded the stick, washing into every opening like black oil and covered everything, every gap, every little pore.

Astonished, he exhaled as he watched the plant unfold in front of his inner eye. More and more Haki swept across the fibers, soaked them. The coating became stronger and stronger.

"That is enough, Roronoa, just try to hold this state..."

The stick broke.

Surprised, both men looked at the bamboo, only held by Mihawk now while the finest shards slithered between Roronoa's black-colored fingers to the ground.

Then they exchanged glances.

"Interesting," he muttered, looking more closely at the fracture.

"Interesting?" The younger one replied not quite as calm as Mihawk was used to. "It happened again. Damn it! It happened again! I told you it would happen! Maybe..."

"Maybe you should not be rushing to conclusions," Mihawk immediately interrupted the other, who was definitely not as calm as usually. "At the end of the day, have you lost sanity or not?"

Roronoa stared at him with big eyes, apparently just now realizing that he had not.

"One has not as much to do with the other as you might think."

"But you know what happened?" The other asked as Mihawk threw away the broken bamboo and picked up a new one.

"Of course."

"And what?!" The younger one had taken a step towards him and looked up to him demandingly.

"It means you have an abnormal talent, nothing else."

"How... how do you mean that?"

He bent down to the other, so that their eyes were separated by only a few centimeters.

Oh, how he hated, that the other was so almost supernaturally gifted in every discipline. If Roronoa had grown up with him, this unpolished diamond would have overtaken him within a few years, for Mihawk had never been as diligent as the other.

"Mihawk!"

Had he just been absentmindedly daydreaming for a second?

"It is because of how you let your Haki flow. For most users, the coating lays over the objects like a viscous slime. Some even take almost a dozen seconds to coat something simple like this bamboo here."

Roronoa looked at him suspiciously.

"With a lot of practice, they usually get faster. But what you are doing is quite different. Like oil, your Haki infiltrates every little pore, but covers everything evenly like a protective film. It is quite fascinating."

Doubtful, the younger one looked at him. "The way you describe it, it all sounds nice and good, but why did the stick break?"

"Have I not just explained it to you?" He replied with a grin. "Whether intentional or not, instead of just wrapping the stick from the outside, you let your Haki surround each single pore, no, each single cell. Even experienced Haki users would have difficulty with this precise application.

"But there is also a reason why you usually learn this form of application much later. The problem is the thicker the coating, the more the individual cells are pressed apart until the bamboo or sword finally bursts."

"Oh," Roronoa muttered, looking at his hands, which were still discolored, "that is, if I manage to just coat the stick as a whole, it won't break."

"Exactly," he agreed, "however, I always cover every single cell of my sword."

"What? Why?"

Now he grinned.

"Simple reasons. An armor around a sword protects it, but a strong hardening consumes an incredible amount of Haki and is therefore very strenuous in the long run. However, if you encase every single cell, it is almost impossible to break the sword and you need much less Haki. For this, of course, cell hardening requires much more concentration."

Dissatisfied, Roronoa looked at the bamboo stick in Mihawk's hand.

"But doesn't that contradict itself? You say that the cell hardening makes the sword indestructible, and yet the stick broke because of it."

"You let it burst, that is a small but subtle difference. Therefore, only excellent Haki users can apply this specialization. The trick is to enclose each cell evenly without making the armor too thick. If you do this, your sword will not burst."

Thoughtful, the younger man tilted his head, probably still not satisfied.

"But I thought that the hardness of the coat is crucial to who wins the fight. But if cell coating must not exceed a certain thickness, then it is still weaker than the general hardening."

Mihawk sighed. "A general misconception, which unfortunately is still taught by many. The thickness of the coat does not say anything about its hardness. A hair-width armor can be harder and stronger than a finger-width hardening."

Now Roronoa looked at him again. "That is, if I can control the thickness of the coat, the stick will not burst?"

Mihawk nodded. "Exactly, your problem is that naturally you carry a lot of Haki and you are not able just yet to control its flow. You simply let your Haki flow unhindered into the stick. You have to learn how much energy you need to use at what time. This is something easily achieved by practice. The only difference between you and others is that you already apply the cell coating automatically and do not have to learn it until after you have mastered the basics. That is why those objects burst. A more experienced Haki user would be able to control the flow."

The other was silent.

"What is it, Roronoa? Do you not understand? Where did I lose you?"

"You didn't," the younger one calmly disagreed, "I just wonder what happened back then. If you say that the bursting of the sword could have happened to anyone, why did I go berserk?"

Now the other looked at him.

"I do not know," Mihawk honestly admitted, "so far, the only unusual thing is just your outrageous talent." He offered the staff to the other. "But if we keep working, we might find out."

Roronoa took a deep breath, then he reached out. Within seconds, the staff broke again.

"You have to concentrate. If you let your Haki flow out like this, you will not last fifteen minutes."

He took the next stick and the next and the next.

As easy as it was for Roronoa to use Busoshoku Haki, as difficult it was for him to control it. Mihawk could literally see the streams out of pure energy flowing out of his fingers. One stick after another broke, and with each one Roronoa got more and more exhausted. Soon he would be too tired to maintain his armor, but he did not give up yet. The mountain of broken bamboo behind Mihawk grew while teaching and correcting the younger one.

"I don't understand," Roronoa grumbled between heavy breaths. "How am I supposed to control it, I don't know how it should feel."

"Then let me show you."

Mihawk instructed the other one to take the stick without coating it. Then he hardened his own hand and deliberately let his Haki slid slowly into the fibers. He had covered nearly two-thirds of the staff.

"Now you, only up to half and then observe the flow of my Haki."

"I didn't even know you could overlap Haki," the younger man grumbled strained. Sweat dripped down his face. He seemed quite exhausted and Mihawk was not sure if it was because he would have to transform into Loreen in a few minutes or because he was almost drowned of his Haki.

Suddenly, a strange feeling passed through Mihawk, almost as if someone were pulling at his soul. His gaze chased down to the all-black stick, which in the next moment shattered to finest dust.

Mihawk stumbled to the side and took a deep breath. Why was he suddenly breathing so hard? This exercise was not exhausting, just the overlay of two armors, nothing that was usually done, but also not that unusual in training.

Why had it been so exhausting for him?

"Roronoa, something here was odd just now. We should try it again, you think, you could... Ugh!"

He stumbled several steps back and almost lost his balance. The other's right hand clawed into his left shoulder!

Mihawk gasped up in surprise rather than pain and hurled the younger one away, who tore some scraps of skin and meat out of his body.

Touching his shoulder, Mihawk could feel the warm blood wetting his hand and soaking his shirt.

"What in heaven's... Roronoa?"

His little frog had flown several meters away and crashed against the next best ruin, but now he rose again, remaining in a bent posture, his hands cramped like grotesque claws.

Silently, the other approached him, slowly, almost elegantly like a predator, and then Roronoa rose to his full size.

Except that it was no longer Roronoa.

His whole posture had changed, he stared confidently at Mihawk, his head slightly tilted, his shoulders a little too far back, his arms dangling loosely backwards.

A broad, almost animalistic grin distorted his facial features, but it was these wide-open eyes that had absolutely nothing to do with Roronoa Zoro, had absolutely nothing humanely left. The deep green, which had once been there, and could show or hide emotions too easily, had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but pure greed for blood.

"So, this is your monster?" Mihawk asked and regarded the other.

By now he doubted his pretty theory; Roronoa would not turn into Loreen, even though his time was up. Oh no, this was Mihawk's problem now.

"How bothersome," he grumbled, looking at his shoulder. He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Was that really necessary, Roronoa? Look at the shirt, it is ruined," he complained halfheartedly.

The other laughed quietly, but it was not a human laugh, it sounded insane.

"Oh really, so much cliché at once, are you serious? Wait, stop that, that is unsanitary."

He turned his gaze away as the other raised his right hand and caught one or two drops of blood with his tongue before licking along a bloody finger.

"Uh." So much barbarism was too much for Mihawk. He shook his head in disgust. "Why does everyone always become an insane berserker? Why does your madness not make you more civilized for once?"

The next moment, the monster in front of him attacked.

Mihawk sighed and moved to the side.

The first attack had been a lucky strike. He had been distracted by the overlay of the Hakis and had not expected for a second that the other would lose control. Only because of that the youngster had even been able to hurt him and, of course, because Mihawk had dissolved his Haki in that very second because of that odd sensation.

But now, of course, the whole thing looked different.

"The question is just what happens to you the longer this state lasts," he muttered calmly.

One second, he regarded the other; almost like an aura, Roronoa's life energy spilled out of his body and wafted in the air. The monster stole his energy to become more powerful, sucked out his host until only an empty shell would remain, at least it seemed like that.

Mihawk suspected that Roronoa would die sooner or later if he was not stopped.

"Oh, how troublesome." The next moment Mihawk stood next to the youngster and deliberately punched him in the neck. Roronoa fell unconscious to the ground. "And you really thought this monster could be dangerous to me?"

Shaking his head, he threw the other over his unharmed shoulder and made his way back.

At least, he had now seen it, had finally seen it, now he finally knew what Roronoa was so desperately afraid of. No wonder the Marines were overwhelmed back then.

Mihawk wondered how this fight would have turned out if he would not have any previous knowledge, if Roronoa had not warned him beforehand. Perhaps it would have become a little more dangerous, or at least interesting.

Thoughtfully, he climbed up the steps to the front door and walked in.

"Oh, you're back... what happened?!" Perona had obviously been waiting for them and was now staring at him in shock.

"You're hurt!" She remarked, horrified, pointing at his still bleeding shoulder.

"Oh my, what a power of observation," he commented cold, walking past her, into the depths of the castle.

Arriving in Roronoa's room, he carefully placed him on his bed. Now his little frog looked as innocent as always, like the little demon he was.

Shaking his head, Mihawk went to the adjacent bathroom and ripped the destroyed shirt from his body, which had already turned completely red.

For a moment, he inspected the injury. Five lines of different widths and depths had gnarled into his flesh, almost like the claws of an animal.

"I got the first aid kit," he suddenly heard the voice of the ghost girl next door.

He took another glance at the injury before going out, shaking his head.

"That will not be necessary, ghost girl."

Unimpressed, she raised an eyebrow.

"Have you even looked at yourself? You're still bleeding."

"It will stop soon," he replied gruff.

"Don't make such a fuss; you're worse than Zoro."

He allowed her to do what she needed. It was useless to argue with her about such a trivial thing and besides he had to admit he wanted to have some peace, so he preferred her shutting up even if that meant that he had to allow her treating his wound.

"Listen," he told Perona as she took care of his shoulder, "we will not tell Roronoa about this scratch," he decided.

"Scratch?" She repeated ironically. "Wasn't he there? Why do you want to hide that from him?"

"Because I know him," was all he answered as he regarded the peaceful face of his ward.

She murmured between gritted teeth and then left.

But, as so often the case, Mihawk remained seated on his chair next to Roronoa's bed. How long would it take for the other to wake up? Maybe he should get a new shirt quickly.