Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Warning: Unintended OOC-ness and minor grammatical errors.
Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delays on this, but I have been pondering on revisions. Not exactly a rewrite, but something like changing the tense of the first chapter and reviewing any errors in the chapters themselves.
Longer note at the bottom.
Flashbacks are in italics.
A week after...
The weather at Kuraigana island was a constant foggy haze. It was always cold, and in lack of a better description, spooky. It didn't help that the mornings were filled with the training of a certain green haired historian, whose devil fruit provided a constant stream of icy mist. Mihawk would watch him from a vantage point, the young man with an ice sword in hand, performing katas. He would perform less than what his father used to do, and would then switch to hitting targets with ice shards. The boy was a great shot, and was quite adept with his devil fruit.
It was all quite impressive.
The humandrills avoid the young man, but they would watch him from afar. They would copy what he was doing, but because he picked up no weapons, they were left to wonder how he suddenly would produce the items from his bare hands. He watched as the animals would look at their own paws, as if willing for swords and projectiles to come out of them.
It was an interesting thing to watch, especially since Saul wore a bandana, a dark grey one, that had the same effect as the darker one his father used to wear.
From the same vantage point, he would watch Zoro do his training. He would always start even before the sun was up. The humandrills having grown wary of his strength stayed far away, their eyes focused and observing.
Perona glided by him, clutching her teddy bear. "He just trains all day" She said with a huff "So boring."
She twirled around in her place, floating closer and closer to Mihawk until she could lean on his shoulder, peering down at the practicing swordsman.
"He's distracted" Mihawk said, not minding the proximity of the pink haired girl.
Perona sighed "He misses his nakama. I heard him calling out his captain's name when he first got here."
"Only natural, he's dedicated enough, fiercely loyal."
"He was calling out another name though" Perona said with a yawn. With a last bored look, the ghost princess floated off, dragging the bear by its ear, letting the toy's feet dangle on the stone floor.
The crack of the ice sword surprised even the humandrills. They scattered when Mihawk jumped from the balcony, Kogatana in hand, slashing at the frozen weapon. It broke upon impact, with Saul jumping back just in time to avoid a backlash.
Mihawk lunged at him, aiming for his arm, but Saul was quick enough to disappear into an icy mist, only to solidify a few feet away. He created another ice sword, taking a defensive stance. Mihawk jumped at him, his kogatana nicking a chunk of ice from his opponent's sword, but gave Saul enough space to jump back.
Saul quickly formed walls between him and Mihawk, however, the shichibukai quickly slashed them in half. His kogtana made contact with his arm, and having been imbedded with haki, Saul bled.
The blood seeped through the sleeve of his shirt, but he kept his stance. He was panting slightly, waiting for Mihawk's next attack. However, Mihawk sheathed his kogatana, taking a step back from him.
"Have that treated." He said, his cape swept behind him as he turned to leave.
An icicle whizzed by him, missing his cheek by mere centimeters. He looked back at the archaeologist, who now held dual swords.
"I'm not done fighting" Saul said, smirking.
"You think you can defeat me? It took your father years before he did." Mihawk said, but he held his kogatana nonetheless.
Saul threw another icicle, that this time grazed the tip of his hat "I've said it many times, I'm not my father." He prepared a stance, a nitoryu stance so similar to the older Roronoa, and Mihawk smiled at this, he could feel power radiating from the young man, so much potential, and his hawk-like eyes shone with anticipation.
He might be old, and his sword shattered, but he was still a swordsman, and the young man before him was nothing short of a worthy opponent.
With a crackle of lightning, and the frightened scampering of the humandrills, they lunged.
Mihawk stood over the prone form of his student. The infirmary, or rather the room nearest the courtyard where they would train, was drabbed in pink and stars, courtesy of the ghost princess who, even in annoyance, was good in patching up the swordsman.
Right now, the student was asleep, his left eye bandaged tightly, along with his right arm.
Their last training session proved what kind of man Roronoa Zoro was, and the sacrifice of his left eye proved that Mihawk didn't make a mistake in taking him in.
"I know of a man who can still fight with only one arm" he said, although he knew that his student was so deep in medicated slumber that he wouldn't be able to hear "When he had both arms, he was the only man out there who can be counted as my equal in the way of the sword."
He shifted Yoru on his back, as he took a seat besides the bed, the pink sheets contrasting with the green hair of the current occupant.
"He lost his arm for your captain, and now you lost your eye for the same man." He continued, crossing his legs. "And that only means you'll grow stronger, too."
He knew his charge was a hardened fighter, but at moments when he was like this, asleep and lost to the world, he could see the vulnerability, the youth, in his face. The relaxed brow that would often be knotted when they fought, features so trained for battle, looking so small and serene.
"I don't fight with that man anymore" he continued, feeling his own sense of vulnerability "People fabricated that I find it unfair to battle a man with one arm, and that is true in a way. But the truth is it's because I'm afraid."
He let out a sigh, leaning back on his chair, the slight creak of his movement echoing in the cold room "I am afraid that this man, even with only one arm, can still be comparable to me, that he might even best me."
Zoro only replied with his snores, the gentle rising of his chest, his eye remained closed.
Mihawk felt his adrenaline rush, a mark of a good fight. They parried with their swords, the endless amount of weapons that Saul could produce in a matter of few seconds proved an effective tactic against his own kogatana. The cut on the boy's arm did little to impair him, albeit the obvious discomfort. Mihawk realized that the boy had made a frozen sleeve, the ice serving as a sort of bandage.
The boy was smart, he had to give him that, thoughtful actions rather than mindless attacks.
However, Mihawk still saw through the tactic, and was able to manipulate their fight to his advantage. He lunged at Saul, and in a matter of minutes, the younger man fell sprawled on the ground.
Meditation is essential to a swordsman. It focuses them, grounds them, helps them in their next battle may it be a life or death situation. So it's to be expected that two master swordsmen were currently sitting in total silence, cross legged on the floor, eyes closed, a few feet from each other.
Complete and total silence.
Until a loud crash from above, followed by a succession of several more.
"Tch" The younger man gritted his teeth, his brow furrowing in utter annoyance.
"Focus" Mihawk chided, his own barrier of coolness unwavering.
Zoro relaxed a bit, and the crashing sounds droned out. Mihawk heard his companion take a deep breath, his calm back, as the crashing subsided.
Only to restart, much much louder than before.
"I'm going to kill her!" Zoro shouted, standing up, his three swords already drawn and ready.
"Sit down" Mihawk said, his sharp eyes glaring at his impatient student.
Another loud crash, and he could see Zoro's swords twitch in blood lust "She can't keep quiet!"
"Stop listening" Mihawk said this with finality, closing his eyes again. He could feel the tension in his student, still determined to attack the girl upstairs from making a racket. If he did decide to head upstairs, Mihawk would have to discipline him, so it was with a bit of pride in his charge when Mihawk felt him sit back down.
Even if the aura of calmness was gone.
Another loud crash, and his student held his breath, before releasing it slowly.
"How can you concentrate with all that racket?" Zoro asked him, and it was his turn to inhale deeply.
"When you fight" Mihawk said, keeping his eyes closed, and his breathing steady "Do you focus on anything or anyone else other than your opponent?"
He could imagine Zoro's face screwed up in thought, something he often did when Mihawk questioned him with something like directions.
"No" the green haired swordsman finally said.
Using the butt of Yoru, he gave his student a loud smack on the head.
Zoro gritted his teeth in seething pain, his hands gripping his green head. "What was that for?"
Mihawk's steely ice looked at him, making the younger man feel uncomfortable. "When you fight, you must take in your surroundings, but never let it overcome you."
Zoro glared back at him, "So you don't want me to focus on my own fight?"
"Not if you want to die."
Mihawk watched the rise and fall of Saul's chest. Back in the room, still draped in pink but missing the hearts and stars, his arm and leg now bandaged securely. Their fight had ended with a win for the shichibukai, and his opponent unconscious.
The impact of his attack and the sudden blood loss caused Saul to faint, but Mihawk was still impressed. For someone with no proper blade and only the basic training to survive his attacks was truly an impressive feat.
Natural talent, raw and untapped. he needed a proper sword.
With a sweep of his coat, he left Saul in the infirmary.
Perona glided above them, the high ceiling of the room allowed the ghost princess to float to her heart's content, while the two swordsmen sat on opposite ends, polishing their treasured swords. His yoru shone with absolute brilliance, after being sharpened and polished, and then polished once more.
His green haired student took great care with his own weapons. He watched as Zoro handled each of his swords differently, their personalities shining with each stroke on the whetstone. He treated Kitetsu as if the blade would suddenly fly off and cut him, like a father would to an unruly child. It wasn't fear, or trepidation, rather the swordsman was disciplining the sword, lest it forgets that who the wielder was. Shuusui was treated with utmost respect, as if it was an old general that deserved the salutations and honor. He gave its scabbard an extra coating of oil, massaging it into the into the leather, as if trying to appease the old soul to yield to such a young master.
He enjoyed seeing his pupil treat his swords with such care. All three were special to the young swordsman, but the third one, the Wado Ichimonji, was clearly something special.
Mihawk watched as he painstakingly cleaned the blade, almost lovingly, like an old friend. He used a different oil on that sword, and took longer in the process.
"What is your relationship with that sword?" Mihawk finally asked, his voice reverberating through the almost empty room.
Zoro smirked at him, holding up Wado "This is the sword that I'll be using to cut you down."
"Pfft!" They looked up to see Perona, covering her mouth, her face red from trying hard not to laugh. But the effort was in vain as she broke into, in her words, uncute fashion. "You really think you can defeat Mihawk? You really have to be delusional, besides being directionally impaired!"
This led to a shouting match between the two, while Mihawk continued to quietly polish Yoru. He would have to do his kogotana next.
Mihawk was known throughout the world as a master swordsman, even if he doesn't hold the title of being the world's best, people still knew he was a formidable opponent. After being defeated by his own student, the mixture of pride and despair made him seek other outlets.
It was then that he started delving deeper into the art of making swords.
Of course he knew a bit about the craft, having apprenticed with a weapon's smith when he was younger, but his love for handling the swords overcame the desire to make them. The broken blade of yoru ignited that passion again, although he never thought about refashioning his old sword.
But now, someone was there to take on the legacy.
Kuzan Saul.
The forge was hot, and the hammering commenced, deep into the night.
"You're no fun anymore" Perona said, standing beside him, hands on her waist.
Mihawk sat on his ornate chair, the remains of his faithful sword by his feet. He had a hand to his forehead, his face shadowed with the brim of his hat. He was still worn from the battle, tattered and wounded, almost the same state as Yoru.
"Come on, don't you want to sink a ship or something?" She pestered.
But he ignored her.
"Turn an island into several archipelagos?" She tried again.
And he ignored her still.
After several more attempts, Perona finally gave up and sulked up to a deeper part of the castle.
Mihawk grasped the kogatana around his neck. He knew he would have to find a new sword soon, it would be difficult to maintain his shichibukai status with just a small dagger.
Even if that small dagger would probably be enough to finish an armada.
The shattered remains by his feet, black sheets of metal, a section of the crossguard forever lost to the sea. He had used that sword to gain his status as shichibukai, to fight with the Red Haired Shanks, a faithful friend now torn into pieces.
He would need to find a new sword, but today, he would mourn for Yoru.
Saul was surprised when Mihawk handed him the sword. It had a black blade, a golden scabbard, and a hilt with red jewels embedded in it, in the middle of it was a yellow gem, just like the eyes of a hawk.
He had just woken up when Mihawk came in, and placed the sword in his lap. Unlike Yoru, this one was of standard size, almost the exact same structure as a Wazamono sword.
"This is a beautiful" Saul said, with sparkling eyes, as he looked at the blade. It was as if the wounds afflicted to him the day before were forgotten to admire the weapon.
"It is yours." Mihawk said.
"I am not a swordsman" Saul said, wide eyes, handing him back the sword.
"My blade was broken by your father during our last battle, this sword was forged from that blade." He forced it into the younger man's hand "Stay here and I will teach you the way of the sword, become my ward such as your father was."
Saul looked down at the sword, then back at Mihawk, resolve in his eyes.
"I am not a swordsman," he repeated "My father's legacy is not for me to continue. What I am after is the history of the world." He handed back the sword to Mihawk. "I do not wish to be my father."
Mihawk laughed, the rumble in his voice resounding around the castle "You are as stubborn as he is."
"But that doesn't make me him."
"For your tongue is far more witted." Mihawk handed him the sword "Take it."
Saul looked surprise "But this sword is powerful, it deserves a better wielder."
"And if you stay here for a few months, I can teach you how to use it." Mihawk said.
"How many times do I have to say that I'm not a swordsman." Something flashed in Saul's eyes, something akin to rage, and it excited Mihawk.
"I shall make a new deal with you, young historian" he said the title with subtle sarcasm, but Saul saw through it and cast him a glare "If you wish to continue to study the history of this island, then you shall take that sword and train with me."
"If I refuse?"
"Then I would have to fight you, without holding back."
Saul sighed, rubbing his temple "I am not my father, just because I am his son."
"You've been my guest for weeks now, and you've spent hours with the records." Mihawk said, sitting down on the chair beside the bed, his legs crossed "How much more time do you suppose you'll need to finish them?"
Saul became thoughtful, his face screwed up in that familiar expression "Probably a month."
"Then for that month, I will train you, instead of your morning katas." Mihawk said "And when the month is done, you are free to leave. Take the sword with you, present it to your mother. Study it. It is a sword that has been made from a blade filled with history, passed on from swordsmen to swordsmen, slight variations in its blade shows the age, it might be time for it to retire."
The young man became silent, his hand stroking the scabbard of the sword. Mihawk knew it was still warm, he had finished forging it less than an hour ago.
"What is the name of this blade?" he finally asked, looking up at Mihawk.
The name was something Mihawk pondered on, for it is usually the forger who names the sword. However, Mihawk came at an impasse on what to name it, and so "It is nameless. Feel free to name it, once you've agreed to the terms."
Saul raised an eyebrow in amusement "It's such a big honor to name a powerful sword."
And with that, an agreement was made.
End Part 9.
First of all, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm sorry I can't do detailed replies for all of them, but much thanks to hikarubhel, Majin no tamashi, Gren-sama, Seis Fleur, myzorobin, someone, and Suprememoonempress!
Thanks for the faves and follows too! You guys are so awesome!
Also, I need your help. I posted a poll on my profile regarding the name of the Saul's sword. If you could just take a quick peek there to pick? I'm being very indecisive about it, so that seems to be the best thing to do.
Here are the options:
Robin no Hana - Robin's flowers
Yami no kofuku - The Being of Darkness
Yoru II
Hawkeye
Les fleurs de robin - also Robin's flowers, in French
Taka no me - Hawk's eye
There we go :) I accept any name suggestions too, of course, so feel free to mention any.
Once again, much thanks and I hope you enjoy!