A special night
-Mihawk-
Yawning, he walked through the corridors of his castle. Perona had just had the audacity to wake him up because the announced visitor had arrived earlier than expected.
"Jiroushin," he grumbled as he opened the door to the fireplace room, "I have told you far too many times that you should not show up at such an early hour..." He froze. "No, not today."
Shaking his head, he turned around again and left.
"Hawk Eyes, come on now, wait!"
"No!" He took another step. "It is clearly too early to deal with... Let go of me!"
But he could not escape the arm that clung to him with the crushing grip of a giant boa.
"Oh, come on. Don't be like that." Laughing, Shanks pulled him back into the fireplace room and Mihawk wondered how he had earned the presence of his former opponent while he painfully let himself be dragged along.
"What are you doing here?" he grumbled. "I told you not to show up here unannounced."
"Ah, that must have been my mistake," remarked Beckman, who was sitting civilly with Jiroushin at the richly laid breakfast table and drank his black tea. He and Mihawk exchanged a quick glance; they both knew it had not been an unintentional mistake. "I must have forgotten to send you a seagull."
"Sure," he growled. He had almost expected Shanks to reappear sooner or later, but why today? Could they not have gotten caught in a blizzard and been several days late? Could their ship not have sunk?
"Jiroushin, is this your work?" he admonished, whereupon his best friend grinned far too innocently. They had all conspired against him. Groaning, he gave in and dropped onto his chair. "Behave today, will you. I am expecting a quiet, civilized evening."
Even Beckman laughed at his words, as if Mihawk was making a joke, but he was bitterly serious. He had been looking forward to Jiroushin's presence and support, but with the appearance of the Redhair Pirates, this day would end in chaos either way; He should already begin to come to terms with this.
He had known that it had been a mistake to contact Shanks at that time. But he had been the only one Mihawk had been able to turn to back then. It had been an exhausting time – but mainly annoying and patience-demanding – but apparently Shanks was now mistakenly assuming that he and his crew were welcome on this island.
The next moment, Perona came in, and Beckman did well to divert the topic to boring small talk.
Mihawk took the moment to give his former rival and his best friend a threatening look, but while Jiroushin gave him an apologetic smile, Shanks grinned broadly at him, as if he misunderstood Mihawk's gaze as something positive; this idiot was just a lost cause, unfortunately he never got lost on his way to Kuraigana.
"Tell me, Hawk Eyes?" He looked up from his scrambled eggs, could already tell from the tone what Shanks wanted from him, so he just nodded without the other even having to ask his question.
"But I will only give you time until sunset."
And they should need this time. But Mihawk had to confess that his mood had actually risen a bit over the hours. It was true that Shanks could no longer satisfy him, but Mihawk had actually learned to have fun even with an insignificant skirmish.
Now it was getting dark and Mihawk was getting impatient.
"They're running late," Shanks rightly stated as he rubbed the sweat off his body.
"Maybe they have seen your ship and debated whether they want to dock at all," Mihawk grumbled, his mood dropping at the same time, while Redhair laughed out loud.
"You know, Hawk Eyes, people like me, most are happy about me showing up at their places."
"I doubt it." With these words he walked past the other, grabbed his shirt and vest and headed for the castle. He would rather wait at the beach – in peace away from his unexpected visitor – but he was sweaty and wanted to receive his – expected – visitor appropriately.
It was quiet in the castle. Perona had disappeared into the garden immediately after breakfast, and Jiroushin and Beckman were probably having a well-mannered conversation in the fireplace room. Mihawk shook off Shanks and went to his rooms. But for once, he hurried with the shower, because his tense senses finally heard what he had been waiting for so long.
He could not stop it, could not stop his heart from beating faster and a smile kept creeping onto his lips. It was a surprise visit. Only a few days ago he had heard the good news, but he had also had the feeling that someone might have had a hand in it. Maybe Nico Robin or Jiroushin, or both together.
But things were the way they were, and Mihawk had been willing to play along. The price was worth it. The only thing he could have done without was Redhair and his crew. At least the jester remembered Mihawk's warning and had left everyone else on board except for Beckman. Although perhaps it would have been an appropriate gift to finally sink this ship to the seabed.
As he walked out of his room, he could feel their footsteps bouncing, walking, marching, and stomping across the ground. He left his premises, but this time he took his time, heard the gate slamming open above him and loud voices greeting him, even though he was not even present.
But at some point, he had reached the upper floor and stepped into the entrance area, at exactly the right time. The gate was still open, but the door in the direction of the fireplace room just slammed shut, somewhat muffling the confusion of the many voices.
"There you are." In front of him stood Roronoa, the only one left in the entry, and was just closing the gate behind him. "Almost got suspicious when I saw the ship and you weren't waiting on the beach."
"Were you worried that Redhair might actually do something to me?" he asked, walking towards Roronoa, who was waiting for him with folded arms.
"No," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Just didn't want to miss out on all the fun."
His gaze was ice-cold on Mihawk, and the corners of his mouth drooped. So he had noticed.
"But apparently I have," Roronoa grumbled, bridging the last distance between them, "you smell like a fight, killjoy!"
He knew perfectly well that Roronoa's bad mood was nothing to worry about, just the rare jealousy that Mihawk now knew and appreciated from him whenever he fought someone else of quality – which certainly did not happen often. Roronoa basically had no objection to Mihawk fighting others, but nevertheless he sometimes reacted this way when his own fight against Mihawk had been too long ago. And Mihawk enjoyed it. He enjoyed that Roronoa was so fond of fighting him that he became jealous when Mihawk tried to satisfy his greed in other ways.
"Forgive me, I became too impatient and succumbed to my weakness when Redhair lured me like that. But do not worry, this skirmish could not nearly be enough for me. I am still hungry for a fight with you."
Roronoa looked at him condemningly for a moment.
"Sounds good," he grumbled, turning around. "But not tonight. No fighting until after breakfast, I had to promise Nami."
And, of course, Roronoa had fallen for this pretext, while Mihawk immediately saw through the real reasons. Smiling, he followed the other.
"As far as I am concerned, I can probably control myself until tomorrow."
To his astonishment, Roronoa replied nothing. Mihawk examined him questioningly from the side, which he seemed to notice, for when they arrived at the fireplace room, he looked at Mihawk seriously.
"But maybe I can't."
With these words, he left Mihawk behind and stepped into the noise. But Mihawk did not even notice this for a moment. Goosebumps held him captive. How could Roronoa say such things over and over again? Was he not aware of the effect they had on Mihawk? Or did he just not care?
Before he even knew what he was doing, he had already grabbed Roronoa by the wrist and stopped him. Far too unimpressed, Roronoa looked at him, then showed a dirty grin.
"Oh, not that controlled, huh?" Oh yes, he liked playing with Mihawk. Perhaps it was not just Mihawk who had been looking forward to this evening.
For one more breath, only the two of them existed, this something between them, which Mihawk always enjoyed and yet also feared somewhat, because these feelings were so powerful.
Then an arm wrapped around his shoulder.
"Well, you two, what are you talking about?"
"Let me go!" growled Mihawk, noticing how he blushed at the foreshadowing of the topic that was now coming. "And do you not realize that you are disturbing us?"
"Oh, how should I tell that you two sword freaks... oh! OH!" Wide-eyed, Shanks looked back and forth between Roronoa and Mihawk, speaking far too loudly. "So you did it?"
"Of course," Roronoa grumbled, unimpressed. "It was written in all the newspapers that I had defeated him."
Shanks laughed out loud.
"That is not what he meant," Mihawk sighed, shaking off his former rival, not knowing whether Roronoa's tunnel vision-like naivety was a curse or a blessing. "I guess he meant our relationship."
Roronoa returned his gaze, a little confused, as if he did not understand why this could interest Redhair more than their fight; Mihawk kind of agreed to that, but out of other reasons.
"Oh," Roronoa then shrugged his shoulders, turned away, and walked off, leaving Mihawk in this unfortunate conversation to turn to alcohol and Doctor Chopper.
"Not just Oh!" came from Redhair, who imitated Roronoa's gesture and stared at Mihawk reproachfully. "How can it be that I don't know about that?!"
"It was obvious," came from Beckman, who now also felt the need to interfere. "It must have happened before Kaido, otherwise he would never have been willing to fight you."
"Oh?" Shank's eyes grew a bit bigger as he stared at his vice-captain and then at Mihawk. "Is that true?"
Exasperated, Mihawk rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"I thought you promised not to let Beckman in?" he grumbled instead of answering.
"Oh, no one had to let me in," Beckman replied, blowing blue haze in Mihawk's direction before winking at him with that grin he always gave Mihawk when he thought he was winning a duel of thoughts. "Your staring during Zoro's fight against Shanks back then was more than clear."
Of course, Mihawk had expected it. Besides himself and Nico Robin, Beckman was arguably the smartest in the room, but his social intelligence was also able to keep up with not only Shanks but also Jiroushin, which made him extremely dangerous.
"Maybe we should finally start our chess game today, Beckman."
"Gladly, I'm just waiting for you to make the first move."
Today as well, they would not get any further.
Just as Shanks was about to interfere and steer the conversation back in an unpleasant direction, the Chef entered, followed by Perona, and immediately the fireplace room was filled with the pleasant scent of first-class dishes.
Before the table was even set, the Straw Hat called for dinner as if he were the host and was already throwing himself on the next best chair, while the others present followed his request.
With an exasperated sigh, Mihawk settled into his seat at the head of the table next to Jiroushin.
"I hope you are aware that I am blaming you for this fiasco," he stated directly, whereupon his best friend only laughed softly.
But maybe Mihawk should not be too harsh on him, after all, it had been ages since the last time he had dinner and a quiet conversation with Roro... Redhair squeezed between Jinbei and Doctor Chopper and threw himself onto the empty chair on Mihawk's left.
"This place is occupied." He looked coldly at his former rival, who just grinned back.
"Your powers of observation are truly outstanding, Hawk Eyes." Shank's eyes sparkled playfully. Whatever his intention was behind this action.
"It was a polite remark to tell you that you are not welcome here," Mihawk grumbled more clearly. But it was already in vain, for Roronoa followed Doctor Chopper and sat down between him and the Straw Hat at the other end of the table. So much for Mihawk's hope for a pleasant dinner.
"Polite?" asked Beckman, who had sat down next to his captain and had just exchanged a glance with Jinbei. "That would be news to me."
Mihawk exhaled deeply and rubbed his temples.
"What have I ever done to deserve your presence?" he murmured resignedly, while the Straw Hat ignored the Navigator's admonishing words and started to eat. But Mihawk did not even mind, at least the food would stuff the mouth of his former rival, at least temporarily.
His only consolation was the extraordinarily good food he was used to and had expected from the Chef. When he reached for the wine glass, he could see the Chef's inconspicuous gaze, and Mihawk's mood rose a tiny little bit.
He ignored Shank and Jiroushin's insignificant chatter and focused on the pleasant scent of the wine. At least one of those present seemed to be acting in his interest, and apparently that was the Chef, of all people. Mihawk acknowledged this small gift with a nod.
But before he could take a sip, Shanks slammed his fork so hard against his beer mug that it cracked slightly. Almost panicked, Mihawk watched as the other rose loudly clearing his throat and the various conversations died away; even the Straw Hat ate more quietly. Apparently, he had tried to silence those present by his version of clinking the glass, which could only mean he was about to do something horrible.
"And what do you think you are doing?" hissed Mihawk through clenched teeth, although he had a gruesome idea. "Sit down again, Redhair!"
But he did not. He cleared his throat again and then lifted his damaged mug, single drops making their way through the cracks.
"I think it's time for a toast to the protagonist of this evening." Smiling warmly, Shanks met Mihawk's petrified expression. It did not appease him in the least that Redhair tried to use an adequate choice of words and let him take precedence. "And as future best man, it is my duty to speak a few words and..."
"Excuse me?!" Jiroushin jumped up.
"What?" Confused, some Straw Hats exchanged confused looks. "Best man?" came from the Chef, coughing, who had promptly choked on his wine.
"You're getting married?! Congratulations, bro!" Cutty Fram roared, reaching over Doctor Chopper to slap Roronoa's shoulder, who just looked up from his rice balls in confusion and stared at Cutty Fram as if he wanted to offer him non-alcoholic beer.
Shanks cleared his throat again, obviously trying to maintain a sublime mood – or at least his idea of a sublime mood.
"Well, so what I..."
"Who do you think you are?!"
If Mihawk were not so embarrassed by the overall situation, he would find it entertaining how Jiroushin now grabbed Shank's beer mug across the table and stared him down with angry paleness, as if Redhair had just insulted his child.
"Um, I..."
"I am Hawky's best friend!" Jiroushin growled with an emphasis that almost impressed Mihawk if it were not for such a ridiculous topic. "If anyone here is Hawky's future best man, it's me!"
Reassuringly, Shanks raised his hand while Jiroushin was still holding his beer.
"Now, now Jiroushin," he laughed lightheartedly, while the Sniper in the background asked if Roronoa really intended to marry Mihawk, which he acknowledged with a disparaging snort and only made Mihawk blush even more. "You may have known Hawk Eyes much longer than I have, but..."
"No but! I've known him longer and better than you – he doesn't even like you! - and I would know exactly what he expects from a wedding and how to plan such a thing. Therefore, of course, I would be his best man."
Hiding his fiery red cheeks, Mihawk lowered his head and rubbed his eyes and forehead with both hands.
"I do not intend to get married," he muttered to his fillet mignon, as no one else seemed to be listening to him, "so I do not need a best man."
"Sure, totally true, but my dear Underhawky," Shanks simply continued, confirming Mihawk's suspicion, "you just have to realize that you are not suitable as a best man."
Mihawk knew that there was hardly anything that could scare Shanks, but he was just proving how stupid he was.
"Excuse me?" Jiroushin asked dangerously calmly.
"Of course. Everyone knows that the best man has the most important task of all: planning the bachelor party! And everyone who knows you knows that you do your duties overcarefully, but that means for a bachelor party that it is more likely... well, to be lame."
From the pirate's point of view, this argument could probably not be completely dismissed. Jiroushin had enjoyed a similarly good education as Mihawk himself, while respecting social morals and values with an almost tiresome accuracy. Of course, his idea of entertainment differed miles from the celebrations Shanks initiated.
"Excuse me?!" Now the jug threatened to burst within Jiroushin's hand. "And you presume to know what Mihawk would want for a bachelor party?!"
Still sitting between them, Mihawk spoke again to his fillet: "I am not a bachelor anymore either, so I certainly do not need a bachelor party."
But once again he was ignored.
"Of course!" Shanks laughed out loud. "Everyone wants the same thing from a party like this: tons of alcohol, bare skin, and ending up with a total blackout!"
And once again, the pirate proved that he did not like to think outside his box. None of this sounded edifying in Mihawk's ears, yet as it was, he could hear a faint sound of his companion's surprise; of course, the suggestion of limitless, cheap booze caught Roronoa's attention.
Now several discussions flared up again. While Jiroushin and Redhair argued about who of them would be better suited as best man for a hypothetical wedding, the Straw Hats seemed to debate their different opinions on how to arrange a bachelor party. Roronoa sat between them and remarked quite clearly that he did not really care as long as there was enough alcohol.
Opposite Roronoa, the Chef discussed the pros and cons of a possible wedding with the Navigator, while Nico Robin, Jinbei, and Beckman held back and exchanged glances with a smile that said more than words could have expressed.
Sighing, Mihawk decided to return to his meal. He had been looking forward to a quiet evening, and after the message about the visit of the Straw Hats, to a not so quiet, but pleasant evening. But with the arrival of Redhair, he had resigned himself to a fiasco and was therefore not even surprised.
However, he found it both awkward and inappropriate that the whole table was talking about Roronoa and Mihawk's relationship status, and he knew that Roronoa usually did not like such attention - not to mention the fact that this situation was a horror for Mihawk himself.
But to his surprise, Roronoa seemed to be listening quite attentively to the Chef, who explained to him the advantages of a bachelor party. Rolling his eyes, Mihawk turned to his wine. The ulterior motives of the Chef were more than written on his face, and yet Roronoa seemed to fall for his pretextual argument about legitimate alcohol excesses.
Maybe, just maybe this evening was not a total disaster if he disregarded the embarrassing subject matter. There was something frighteningly entertaining about watching Jiroushin and Shanks argue, while Nico Robin and Beckman kept throwing in well-considered remarks to steer and further fuel the discussion.
Mihawk was not one to like loud conversations, but he liked to watch Roronoa move among his crewmembers as a matter of course, even if he sometimes envied when they could elicit reactions from him that Mihawk rarely saw. But sometimes, just at those moments, Roronoa's gaze would fall on Mihawk, and they would sip their drink amicably - although sipping was probably not the right description of Roronoa's action - without breaking eye contact.
He almost started to get something out of this noisy company, but just as he was about to condescend to make a little comment to tease Jiroushin a little more, the door flew open. The rest of the Redhair Pirates came in and complained loudly that their captain had left them on the ship to celebrate with strangers.
While the Straw Hat greeted the newcomers quite exuberantly, Mihawk gave in to his bad mood and wondered whether or not it would make sense to sink the ship of his former rival. However, he discarded this beautiful daydream, which would mean that this chaotic crew would probably stay on Kuraigana even longer than he wanted to endure anyway.
Late in the evening, Mihawk finally managed to escape the celebrating crowd, and so he found himself with the half-emptied bottle of exquisite wine and his slightly too well-filled glass on the railing of the expansive balcony. He usually only came here occasionally, but now that the castle was busier than ever, he enjoyed the cold calm of the deep lake below.
It was not a bad evening, he wanted to tell himself. Roronoa's and Jiroushin's presence alone was something that made him happy, and he could appreciate both Nico Robin's and Jinbei's presence very well – Beckman theoretically too, but he was only ever available as a tiresome double package with his captain – and while even such festivities were rather unimportant to him, there was something cheesily heartwarming about it being important to other people.
Sighing, he took a sip and looked across the lake at his realm, which shimmered silver in the moonlight, while the warm light from the castle behind him framed his own shadow almost golden.
"Oh, here you are. I was wondering where you would be hiding."
He looked up in surprise when the door opened and loud voices and music immediately spilled out to him, even though the fireplace room was quite far away. Then, however, Roronoa closed the door behind him, and the light and volume were locked away again.
Yawning and stretching, the younger one came over and leaned against the balustrade next to him. They were there in silence, in the cool of the night. As before, Mihawk enjoyed the calm that Roronoa exuded. He had always found it pleasant to be silent with Roronoa, and that was actually something highly unusual for Mihawk. But here and now he felt words were strangely unnecessary.
"I didn't know Shanks was coming," Roronoa surprisingly interrupted this pleasant silence and it almost sounded like an apology.
"I know you did not know," he took him straight out of the responsibility and took a sip, "and I do not blame Nico Robin. She has a rather eccentric sense of humor, but I know I have her to thank for you being here tonight."
Roronoa seemed to be thinking about these words.
"I didn't realize you cared about stuff like that," he said, again in that almost apologetic tone.
"And I do not. I can truly imagine better things than to celebrate a feast that is supposed to remind me that I am getting older and older, and I can do without being given useless rubbish. What I want to own, I will take for myself."
Now Roronoa snorted with a soft smile.
"I've never figured out what your problem with age is," he muttered. "It's just a number."
"You would think differently if your partner was 20 years younger than you."
The other looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Is it really that difficult for you?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "I certainly dread the day when I can no longer be the counterpart that I am to you today."
"Mhm," Roronoa said, crossing his arms and looking straight ahead, at the walls of the castle.
Every now and then, Mihawk wondered if Roronoa really appreciated this kind of conversation. Although he always demanded Mihawk's directness, he quickly became uncomfortable when Mihawk showed his insecurities, showed his emotions so clearly.
"How old is Rayleigh, do you know?" Roronoa asked for whatever reason.
"He would have to be 35 years older than me," Mihawk replied, not sure why Roronoa wanted to know.
"Mhm," he said again, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Then at least for the next 35 years you don't have to worry about it."
Speechless, he looked at Roronoa, who continued to look at the castle. Once again, he addressed Mihawk's fears in an extremely simple way.
"Thank you," he whispered, lowering his gaze.
"Hmm? For what?"
It seemed as if he did not even realize how valuable his words were. Shaking his head, Mihawk offered the wine bottle to him.
"I love you."
With an eyebrow raised, Roronoa accepted the bottle.
"I know." Then he took a sip and looked at the label in surprise. "Oh, it's good."
"A gift from the Chef," Mihawk explained, also taking a sip. "A bottle of this wine regularly costs around 200,000 Berry."
"Wha... what?" came from Roronoa, surprised. "Who spends so much money on alcohol?"
"Someone who appreciates it," Mihawk replied, taking the bottle from Roronoa, and refilling his glass before returning it, "and it is not even one of the really high-quality wines. I usually never drink wine that does not cost at least 100,000 Berry."
"I know how snobbish you are. You don't have to emphasize it." Roronoa took another sip. "Well, I certainly wouldn't spend that much money on it, but it tastes good," he said.
"Like you have so much money."
"Oh, I thought I owned half an island," Roronoa replied with a dangerous undertone. "But tell me, I thought you didn't like gifts. Isn't this a gift?"
"I said I do not like useless rubbish. This wine here is neither useless nor rubbish."
Roronoa laughed softly. "I told you, you would get along with the Cook once you've gotten past your stupid dick comparison."
"Oh, please do not get me wrong, I certainly do not like him. But I am willing to admit that I find his taste acceptable, and I welcome this wine. I am aware that it is probably not cheap for a Vinsmoke."
The other just shook his head.
"And my taste?" he asked, grinning. "Is it acceptable to you as well?"
Mihawk replied nothing but sipped his wine. He had forgotten how much he liked to talk to Roronoa. Of course, they spoke regularly on the transponder snail, but it was different to see him here next to him, his facial expressions, his gestures, the way he took a breath to say something, but then remained silent. His smell in the air and his gaze at Mihawk whenever he least expected it.
"But tell me, Roronoa, age is just a number for you, social customs unnecessary nonsense, and at festivities you appreciate only alcohol."
"And the food."
"And the food," he corrected himself. "Do not get me wrong. I am grateful for your presence – not so thankful for the presence of some others – but you did not have to come for something as ridiculous as my birthday."
Now Roronoa was silent and drank Mihawk's wine.
"Do I get no answer?"
"You won't like the answer." Roronoa's gaze was almost mischievous and Mihawk did not even have to guess.
"It was your captain's idea."
"At least it was his decision. I don't even remember who came up with the original idea."
Smiling, Mihawk sipped his wine.
"It almost sounds like I have been the topic of your crew's conversations."
"You were."
"Excuse me?" He looked at Roronoa, who just shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't look like that. We're a crew, we talk about things."
"Now I am a thing?"
Roronoa groaned softly, but it only sounded playfully unnerved; Mihawk now recognized the difference, at least most of the time, he hoped. Then he watched as Roronoa examined the bottle again, playing with his necklace with his free hand.
Mihawk had never really understood why Roronoa had decided to continue wearing it. Of course, he had given it to him, but it had been Roronoa's decision to continue wearing it even when he did not have to anymore. It did not really suit him, as he was neither materialistic nor sentimental, and yet he still wore this delicate necklace with that elegantly shaped cross, which seemed so out of place on his broad neck and yet made Mihawk almost sentimental.
Then Roronoa seemed to notice his gaze, and only then did he realize what he was doing.
"The chain broke, during battle," he murmured calmly. "Usopp made me a new one with chain links out of some Wapo gold or whatever, claiming that it was indestructible."
"It does not seem wise to me to wear an indestructible chain around your neck."
"It seems more annoying to me to search an entire, crappy battlefield for a tiny cross."
Mihawk hesitated.
"Is it so important to you?"
"You gave it to me."
They looked at each other.
"I did not know you cared so much about gifts. You usually do not show much interest in material things."
Now Roronoa lowered his gaze, a soft pink on his cheeks. It was obviously uncomfortable for him, which was so rare.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to embarrass you."
"No, no... It's not that," he muttered. "But... I believe... I don't think it has anything to do with material or anything."
"No, probably not," Mihawk agreed, watching Roronoa stroke his swords. "In any case, it makes me happy that this necklace is so important to you that you do not want to lose it. Even if I am a little worried about your neck."
Roronoa nodded softly, still not looking at him.
"And that is how your conversation came to me? Because of a broken chain?"
Roronoa nodded again before shrugging his shoulders: "Yes, although to be honest you are often part of our conversations. I mean, we're talking on the transponder snails, the others notice that of course, but yes, we just talked about..."
Roronoa did not speak any further and Mihawk could see that he seemed to be thinking about something, and when he thought so intently, it was usually a sign of danger.
Suddenly, Roronoa pushed off the balustrade, placed the wine bottle on the ground, and positioned himself directly in front of Mihawk.
"I... I'm not good at this kind of thing, and... and it's not a 200,000 Berry bottle of wine that suits your taste." He scratched his temple. "But it's not useless, and it's not rubbish. So... Happy Birthday."
Somewhat awkwardly, he pulled out a small wooden box and held it out to Mihawk.
He stared at the box Roronoa was offering him. He had not expected that, once again Roronoa surprised him.
"You... you have a gift for me?" he asked.
"Well, it's your birthday, isn't it?" Roronoa mumbled and his cheeks reddened a little.
"But that would not have been necessary," he replied, still slightly surprised.
"Yes, it was," Roronoa objected dull.
Mihawk tried to follow Roronoa's train of thought. The chain of his necklace had broken, and the Sniper had given him a new one for the little cross. As a result, the crew had talked about him, consulted with Jiroushin, and apparently decided to visit him on his birthday – which was not even a significant birthday or special in any other way – to celebrate with him, even though he never celebrated his birthday and even though Roronoa had never...
Oh, slowly he understood.
Gently he took the box. It was plain wood, presumably made by Cutty Fram, a fitting packaging for someone like Roronoa – at least he hoped that the box itself was not the gift, but actually he did not know if he even expected anything.
Carefully, he took off the lid.
"It's just a little something," murmured Roronoa, apparently embarrassed, "it's also Wapo gold; heat-resistant and can really take a beating. I've tried it myself; you can wear it while fighting, it doesn't bother and it doesn't fall off. I know that you don't want to waste your time looking for anything on the floor."
He pushed the black velvet down a little and took out a plain golden bracelet.
"I know you've always worn your other bracelet, but not anymore and since you don't like things to change, I thought... Usopp made it, don't ask me exactly how it works, but you can charge it – with Haki – and then..."
"... it turns into a watch," Mihawk finished Roronoa's sentence, fascinated. The golden metal in his hand was now black and, on the surface, there was a golden dial, which shimmered slightly in the moonlight. The next moment he interrupted the Haki flow and almost in the same breath it was again a simple bracelet. "Interesting."
He examined the little piece of jewelry. It was a plain open bracelet, about as wide as his little finger and without any decorations. Without Haki, not even the dial was visible. Cool, it lay in his hand, perfectly balanced. It truly suited Roronoa, something so simple, but perfected in its simplicity with a surprisingly intelligent touch.
He put it on carefully, noticing how the metal clung almost slightly to his skin, as if it had always belonged there.
Then he looked up, met Roronoa's gaze, who was watching him skeptically but still with red cheeks.
"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to," he muttered cautiously, making Mihawk smile.
"Oh, I would not wear it if I would not want to," he replied and continued to examine the simple piece of jewelry. It was not truly his taste, he preferred elegance and finesse, with an eye for detail, and yet he felt that he had never possessed anything of comparable value, which, of course, was nonsense.
"Thank you, Roronoa," he finally said, lowering his gaze back to the little thing on his arm. "I will cherish it."
"Don't say stuff like that," Roronoa grumbled now, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Actually, it's not even mine. Usopp made it and Franky made the box, besides..."
"That does not matter," he interrupted the trivialization of the other, rose and put a hand on Roronoa's shoulder. "Thank you for giving it your thought, even though you probably cannot even grasp the meaning of this bracelet for me."
Roronoa was still looking at the lake in embarrassment. Not so long ago, Mihawk had decided that he could not expect anything from Roronoa, but had to take the risks himself, and now his companion was doing something like that.
"Well, maybe I like to celebrate my birthday after all," he remarked with a quiet smile. "Especially if we try out your gift tomorrow."
As expected, this made Roronoa look up and he showed him his familiar grin.
"Of course, that's part of the gift."
"You are spoiling me."
Now Roronoa rolled his eye slightly, and then brushed off Mihawk's hand.
"See it as compensation for that," he said, nodding to the castle.
"Oh, but then you will have to fight with me more than once."
Roronoa bent over the bottle of wine and drank it empty, as if the deed had taken a lot of effort. Then he looked at Mihawk.
"I think 997 more times should be enough, right?" He nodded towards the balcony door and Mihawk admitted defeat.
"Maybe," he joked and followed Roronoa back to the castle, although he really had no interest in the celebration inside.
"Roronoa."
"Hmm?" The other looked over his shoulder.
"I love you."
Roronoa shook his head slightly.
"Twice in one day, you really have to think I'm forgetful." Then he sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and looked up at the sky for a moment before looking at Mihawk with that serious look. "I love you too."
Again, he said it in a way that gave Mihawk goosebumps. His tone did not change, as if they were having a factual discussion and that was what made it special. For Roronoa, this was not an emotional confession, it was a fact that did not even need to be explained anymore and that he only repeated for Mihawk's sake.
"Come on. The wine is empty, and you can't miss the whole party, after all, it's your birthday."
Mihawk sighed deeply.
"I could, after all, it is not just my birthday. I do not need a celebration; your presence is enough for me."
"But I like partying," Roronoa replied mercilessly, "and I think it's funny when you pretend you don't like Shanks."
"He is annoying and noisy," Mihawk objected.
"I know."
With that, the decision had been made – in which Mihawk obviously had no say – but when he arrived at the door, he held Roronoa back for a moment.
"Tell me, whose idea was it?" he asked, whereupon Roronoa just looked at him questioningly. "The bracelet, with the hidden time display. Your Sniper shaped it, Cutty Fram packed it, the Straw Hat decided to come here. But who came up with the idea for the bracelet as a gift?"
Roronoa tilted his head briefly before shrugging his shoulders.
"It was my idea. I thought it suited you."
Whatever he wanted to say afterwards – if he wanted to say anything else – was interrupted by Perona, who came rushing over and asked Roronoa for help, because his captain was probably doing something stupid.
Mihawk looked after him, almost intuitively stroking this simple bracelet. Yes, maybe this simple jewelry with this invisible finesse suited him. He could imagine taking a liking to it.
"So, now you're not so angry with me, are you?" To his left, Jiroushin appeared, obviously drunk. "It was a good idea of mine to initiate this, wasn't it?"
Mihawk admitted defeat.
"Maybe I do like to celebrate my birthday every 35 years."
The next moment he heard a loud crash and could literally see in his mind's eye how the chandelier in the entrance hall crashed to the ground.
"Shanks!"