Time for another chapter ;-)

Have fun!

The best

-Mihawk-

He opened his eyes, jumped up and ran, slammed open the door and rushed onto deck.

"Jiroushin, wait!"

"Wa.. what?" At the last moment, the tip of the sword stopped, only a hair's breadth from the neck of the stranger perched on the figurehead, one leg dangling down in a relaxed manner.

"But... but captain?" came from the few crewmembers who were already on deck at this time of day, all facing the stranger in an aggressive stance. He stared at Mihawk, and it seemed as if his eye was gnarling right into his soul. Before he even knew what was happening, he noticed his very own monster waking up, but not slowly and sleepily as he was used to, no, everything in him was on alert and his monster was longing for control over his body, over his mind.

Suddenly, this greed broke as the stranger averted his gaze and let it glide over the other people present, ending at Jiroushin.

"Who are you?" hissed Mihawk's vice captain, who was standing on the railing directly to the stranger's right. "And where do you come from so suddenly? What is your desire on our ship?"

Goosebumps swept over Mihawk's body. It was quite obvious that no one from the crew had expected an attack, although of course someone was always on guard.

"Quite a lot of questions at once," the stranger muttered, without even glancing at Jiroushin's weapon, shielding his intact eye from the rising sun with one hand as he looked up at the sail. At first glance, the stranger seemed inconspicuous, but the four swords he carried on his hip were striking, three on the right side, one on the left. Mihawk's eyes were fixed on the one on the left. The next moment, however, that unyielding gaze was back on him, and he knew he had to act.

"Jiroushin, lower your weapon," he commanded coldly, not dodging that look, though his heart was beating faster and faster. He needed to calm down.

"Captain, what's the matter?" Eros whispered, looking at him incredulously for a moment, but Jiroushin obeyed, of course. However, he did not move one bit away from the stranger. Would Mihawk be able to reach him in time? He knew the answer.

"I offer my captain's cabin," he said coldly and clearly, pushing wide open the door through which he had just come, and pointing in with a sweeping wave of his arm. "This conversation should probably be held in confidentiality."

His gaze fell briefly on Jiroushin, who nodded imperceptibly, obviously understood, but his attention remained with the stranger.

"Fine with me," came the brusque reply, before the stranger slipped off the figurehead and his boots hit the deck with a dull thud. Nothing betrayed what he really wanted, but he approached Mihawk as if the ship belonged to him, not even noting the suspicious looks of the crew.

As the stranger trudged up the steps to meet him, Mihawk stepped aside and gave way to his rooms. Quite naturally, the stranger entered, and without batting an eyelid, Mihawk followed, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I didn't expect so much hospitality," came it from the stranger, who had folded his arms and was apparently curiously examining Mihawk's antechamber.

"And I do not think much of hospitality," Mihawk objected coolly, "but it is not fitting to negotiate on deck."

With that, he gestured to the negotiating table, but his counterpart turned to him. He was shorter than Mihawk, but he did not make the mistake of attributing any significance to this nullity.

"Of course," he agreed with a slight grin, as if he had almost expected this statement, "but why do you think there will be negotiations, Mihawk?"

Mihawk's eyebrow twitched unintentionally. Not only did this tramp behave as if there was not the slightest danger coming from Mihawk, but he dared to speak to him without any sign of respect! He probably was much older than Mihawk, but he could not remember the last time someone had called him by his first name and escaped with their lives.

"Ah, did I hit a nerve?" the stranger said, and Mihawk cursed himself. His lack of facial control had betrayed him. Such careless mistakes should not happen to him.

"Why else would a tramp have come to see me?" he replied just as disrespectfully. "If you had been looking for a fight, this ship would be no more, and what else but a fight or negotiation could tempt one to board a ship of pirates?"

"Mhm, that's a good question," grumbled the stranger, who was now surveying Mihawk's rooms again and sounding as if he was thinking about this question as well, not even looking at him.

But, of course, Mihawk had not acted without ulterior motives. Jiroushin would now prepare everything and, if the worst came to the worst, enable the crewmembers to escape. Whether this would be of any use was another matter and depended solely on what this stranger desired. As long as he was only after Mihawk, this tactic might be promising, but otherwise it was in vain either way.

"But before we move on to the negotiation, may I ask for a question to be answered?"

"Hmm?" the stranger made, still without paying attention to Mihawk. His neck tensed; such behavior was outrageous.

"What time are you from?" he asked, trying to be calm.

The stranger turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"What a strange question," he replied.

"It is the only one that makes sense," Mihawk objected, deliberately disparaging this curious look. He was able to grasp the other's abilities, but that did not mean he respected him. "There are only a handful of people in the world right now who are superior to me, if even one of them were a swordsman, I would know about it, but neither your face nor your aura I am familiar with. In addition, you carry a sword at your side, which I call my own. But I am absolutely sure it is not mine, for it..."

"Oh, that's right," came it softly from the stranger, and he almost lovingly slid one hand over the handle of his weapon. "Because it speaks, right?"

This fellow was truly dangerous, the way he touched Josei and the way it not only accepted but demanded his closeness, sounding so different from what Mihawk had ever heard. It did not make sense; this weapon was willingly carried next to other — lower! – weapons?

"Correct," he agreed coolly. "Mine fell silent a long time ago. So there is only one conclusion to be drawn, you are from the past, long before this sword fell into my family's possession. You may even be the original master of this..."

"Wrong," the other grinned at him, then he laughed softly and turned around again. "It's a bad habit to jump to conclusions so quickly while having such brains, isn't it?"

Mihawk was unfazed by this strange comment. He had deliberately made a false assumption. If there had ever been such a swordsman, he would have heard of him.

"So what time are you from?" he asked unmoved, after the other was hopefully underestimating him.

"What year is it?" replied the stranger, and then his eye was fixed on Mihawk again, and he felt hot and cold at the same time, so insistently did the other look at him.

"1502," he answered, not really sure what to make of the stranger. He was unquestionably very dangerous, but he did not seem aggressive, not even suspicious. What were his intentions? Mihawk could not comprehend it in the least, and that had never happened to him before. It was hard for him to read this man, but he did not seem particularly devious. Or maybe he was just so good at pretending that he managed to deceive even Mihawk.

"Aha," the other said, seeming to briefly count something with his fingers. He did not seem particularly intelligent. "That means you're what? 20?"

What did Mihawk's age concern him? But he decided to play along. The stranger did not seem to be easily annoyed, but Mihawk bore the responsibility for too many lives to risk it lightly. At the same time, he really was not used to having to hold back on his opinion.

"21," he replied curtly.

"Aha," came again from the other, who now took a step towards him. "I'm a bit surprised, you seem a lot younger."

"I do not think my looks are relevant to this conversation," he said with a tense jaw. "But it would be a matter of politeness if you were to answer my question now. What time are you from?"

Oh, he should be careful. The harsh tone had not been intended, but the other's remark was getting to him a little bit too well.

"A matter of politeness it is?" said the other, but it was impossible for Mihawk to tell what was going through his mind, whether it amused or angered him. Then the other sighed. "I come from the year 1531."

So almost 30 years from the future. Only 30 years from the future. This man was already alive in Mihawk's time, but he had not heard of any emerging talent in swordsmanship. Maybe he came from a country that had cut itself off from the world, maybe he was inconspicuous as a child or teenager and would only make a name for himself later. Either way, in less than 30 years, should anyone be able to awaken Josei and make it sound like this?

He had to keep calm, one question at a time, to gather information.

"And in order to establish equality of arms, may I also ask you to state your age?"

The other was silent, but his gaze had changed, squinting his unscathed eye before finally shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know why you want to know, but I'm 28."

The stranger was starting to annoy him, but even though Mihawk could hardly admit it, he probably was not in a position to defeat the stranger, and even if that was the even harder challenge, he still had to avoid a fight. Here on the open sea, this would mean the death of his subordinates and the loss of this ship. Unnecessary losses, but the price was high. At the same time, he was surprised. The man in front of him was supposed to be only a few years ahead of him? Not even being born in his time? He looked much older and more experienced. Well, age did not play fair to everyone. Or maybe it was just a lie, the reason for which Mihawk could not figure out yet, so he needed to get more information.

"Well then, please explain the reason for your presence. What do you want from me? Why did you travel back in time just to meet me?"

He did not even know that such a thing was possible, but it was the most logical explanation, as impossible as it might seem.

But the stranger grinned broadly. "Who says I have a reason?"

"What?"

Now the other rubbed his neck, almost a little embarrassed.

"Well, truth be told, I have no idea how I ended up here. I was sleeping on deck until just now, and before I know it, I'm falling out of the sky, and except for water, there's only this ship here, so I chose the ship." The other shrugged. "Don't ask me how that worked, probably a devil fruit power - although I haven't heard of any that makes you travel back in time - but no, I have no reason. I'm not here for a fight, nor for negotiations. Just some bad luck."

Somewhat stunned, he stared at the other, slowly confirming that the guy in front of him was indeed a fool.

"Why would you end up here right now?" he asked suspiciously.

"I don't know. Where is here actually? What sea are you on?"

He really had absolutely no idea; he could not be that stupid.

"Grand Line, New World," he replied coolly.

"Oh, we just got to the North Blue... Hmm..." the stranger looked at him again before nodding slowly without saying anything. Whatever was going on in his head. "So I didn't end up here by accident, did I?"

How would he know?!

"Great," the stranger continued. "And now what? I really don't want to go through all this crap again. Hmm... If... What was that like? If I could make it to Wa No, I might be able to... if they are still alive..."

Suddenly the stranger stopped and looked intently at Mihawk.

"Or could it be that I'm not here for no reason?"

"You think an enemy sent you back to the past so you could change it?" Mihawk replied doubtfully, not sure how he deserved this situation.

"No, I don't think so," murmured the stranger, and turned away again. He sounded like he had something else on his mind.

But Mihawk did not care. It did not matter to him who the other was, nor what he was going to do... No, that was not true. He did not want to admit it to himself, but he was highly interested in the stranger. Not because of his life story or what had happened to him, but because of his swordsmanship and, last but not least, his weapon.

"Well, I am interested in how you got my sword," he asked coldly, interrupting the murmur of the other who met his gaze. "So what is it? Did you steal it, or did you take it after I died?"

And there it was again, that grin, because the other knew more than Mihawk.

"Again, too quick at coming to a conclusion," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Neither."

"What? Then how did you get Josei?"

"What other option is there?" Was the stranger teasing him? Was he making fun of Mihawk? How dare he?!

"There is no other. Either you stole it, or you took it because it was ownerless."

Now the other's unharmed eye widened in surprise.

"And that you give it out voluntarily, as with Dansei and Homura is no...?"

"Don't you dare say that name in my presence!"

He breathed hard, the tip of his sword right under the other's chin. Before he even knew what he had done. But Yoru warned him to be careful. Not that he needed that admonition.

"Oh?" came it from the stranger with even greater surprise, but without being impressed in the slightest, while he raised both hands with a mischievous smile. "Sorry, didn't know that name would get such a reaction. You can stand him even less than I thought."

"How do you know that stray dog?" hissed Mihawk, without lowering his sword. "Tell me, have I spared him all this time?! Are you well-disposed towards him?"

The stranger tilted his head slightly, his smile was gone, and he looked much more serious than before.

"Well-disposed? Man, you know words... But no, no big fan of that guy. But let's get back on topic, so you couldn't imagine giving him Dansei?"

"Excuse me?" Mihawk laughed softly at this abstruseness, before becoming bitterly serious. "What kind of question is that? Shall I give this mutt one of the best swords in the world? Ridiculous! If this dog crosses my path again, I will behead him myself. He's not worth living."

"Ah," the other just said, crossing his arms, ignoring the sword at his throat. "Then it might be a surprise to you, but you gave me Josei voluntarily."

Slowly, the other's fabrication of lies crumbled. Mihawk had wondered how the stranger knew all this. Apparently, he had done his research about Mihawk in the future, but that did not mean the stranger knew Mihawk in the slightest.

"Why would I do such a thing?" said Mihawk, swallowing his anger and playing along. Of course, he would never let Josei out of his hands. But what was the point of this unnecessary feint with Dansei? Was he trying to confuse Mihawk? Or had he deliberately provoked him? Whatever it was, he needed to calm down and get his emotions under control.

"You gave it to me," said the other, "on the condition that I would master it." Then he snatched the sword from his sash and offered it to Mihawk, a victorious smirk on his thin lips. "And I did, as you can see."

Slowly, Mihawk lowered his weapon and after a breath he grabbed his sister's weapon, which greeted him with an impossible warmth. He felt something tremble inside him as he could feel that familiar yet unknown heat that he had been missing for years.

He closed his eyes. Josei sounded different than he remembered. Not quite as bossy, but even more demanding, even more bloodthirsty, but at the same time less uncontrolled.

Then he opened his eyes. He had to be careful. Whatever game the stranger played with him, he tried to manipulate Mihawk through past emotions.

He held out the sword to the stranger again, and the stranger took it, still that faint smirk on his lips.

"That means you killed me, and on my deathbed, I entrusted you with this sword?"

"What?" The other grimaced. "Okay, for the last time, I didn't kill you, understood?"

"... What? Why not? Did you not defeat me?"

"Yes, yes, of course I did, but..."

"Are you kidding me...?!"

"Could you stop forcing Yoru on me all the time, it's annoying." Almost in a casual movement, the other swiped his sword aside. Stunned, Mihawk stared at him. How strong was this man?

He groaned heavily. "Man, you're even more dramatic than usual. Listen, we both know you're no match for me, so stop this crap, okay? If you have questions, ask them, but don't freak out every time I answer."

"How dare you..."

"Honestly, you're really exhausting, little Hawky."

He swallowed, not daring to lower his head. Not the point of any sword rested just below his chin. The stranger made him look like a fool, humiliated him. The next moment, he swung Yoru through the air and offered the handle to Mihawk. His movements were too fast. Mihawk had not even seen the stranger reaching for Yoru.

"I really didn't think that would be possible, but you're even more obnoxious than you already are. Only seem to understand this language, huh? So, Mini-Mihawk, let me get this straight. I'm not going to kowtow to you, and I'm not going to match my choice of words to your ego, so you better get used to it quickly if you don't want your own sword turned against you again."

"The longer you stand in front of me, the less willing I am to believe your words," Mihawk replied after surviving the first moment of shock. "But for God's sake, tell your story, and I will listen."

The other snorted and rubbed his face. "And even now, you still sound like you're the boss."

"Well, after all, I am the captain of this ship," he replied coolly, which made his counterpart grin again, for whatever reason. "So, the way I understood you, you defeated me, took away my title, but you did not kill me? This defies all logic. Are you a pacifist, or why did you deny me the honorable end of a swordsman and let me live with the shame of my defeat?"

"Alright, so in summary, I followed your example."

"Excuse me?"

The stranger pulled his ugly cloak aside, revealing the end of an old scar that had once been amateurishly cared for.

"You mean to tell me that I spared one of my opponents?" asked Mihawk incredulously.

"So much more unlikely than giving someone your sister's sword?" grinned the other. As casually as these words were, the old wound tore open, just as casually as he had just withdrawn Mihawk's own sword from him. But Mihawk was not for nothing who he was, what he was, suppressing all emotions and allowing only his deadly rationality to remain.

"Well, if I am honest, nothing you have said so far makes me think you do actually know me."

"Yes, but in my defense, you also do behave very differently. What happened to you in these 20 years? Ah. Well, it doesn't matter, change of subject."

Mihawk did not like how that sounded at all, but he decided that question could wait. But what he took away from it was that he would probably not face the stranger for another 20 years.

"You still have not told me how you got Josei. It is hard for me to believe that I should have given it to you, especially for no good reason."

The stranger tilted his head slightly to the side before shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, your reasoning at the time was that Josei had been woken up by my presence and that it was a swordmaster's job to comply with the swords' wishes. Josei wanted to fight with me." Then the other grinned dirty. "But it probably wasn't just selfless thoughts."

"Your presence?" Mihawk asked.

"Oh yes. On Sasaki, you trained me there for a month, and then two years on Kuraigana... which you don't even know yet, if I remember correctly, man, this is confusing."

Mihawk snorted softly and crossed his arms. This guy was weird. Nothing he said sounded remotely like Mihawk, and yet this man knew so much about him, and mentioned it so casually and incoherently. At the same time, he did not seem so cunning that he could pretend this particularly good.

"With every word you say, your story seems more far-fetched to me. Nothing you say sounds remotely like me. Leaving an opponent alive, teaching a student, giving up one of my swords, being spared by my enemy... it really seems to be going downhill with me in the future..."

"If you say so," the other grumbled, unimpressed. "Tell me, I have a question for you with your clever little head."

Mihawk made no reply.

"Well, it seems like I'm stuck in this time now. But I like my time, should I just go back if I can, or shouldn't I take the chance to prevent some bad things that would happen to my friends? Even if that means we'll never get to know each other?"

What? What was the point? Where did this sudden change of subject come from? Mihawk was not that madman's therapist.

Still, that gaze was fixed on him, and the stranger seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"I... Not that I am really interested, but if you like your time the way it is and you can go back, go for it. Someone else's lot is not your problem."

"No, no, no," the other waved off gruffly. "The Mihawk of my time wouldn't say such nonsense. He would say some crap like you know the answer already. I know you, Roronoa. Would you ever forgive yourself if you didn't act, even though you could avoid so much suffering? If fate has predestined it for you and your friends, you will meet again. So go your way, you've always been a man of action."

He was silent while the stranger — Roronoa was apparently his name — mimicked someone who was supposedly Mihawk's future self with wide gestures and an affected voice.

"Then why are you asking at all?" he grumbled badly. "If you already have your answer, then do so and finally leave my ship."

But even before he finished his sentence, he knew it had been a mistake.

"No," the other said with a broad grin. "I don't think so."

"And why not?" he asked, though he had feared the answer ever since the other had mentioned that he had slept on deck.

"You know, what I haven't told you yet is that I'm a pirate, just like you. And, to do what I need to do, I'm going to need some help. But you're not someone who volunteers to help others, are you?"

"What are you getting at?" Mihawk pretended stupidly, and the other's ugly grin grew.

"Well, what do you think? I'm hijacking this ship. You have capable people on board – only the best, as you have always emphasized – and you know your way around this time and waters. With you and your crew, I could actually succeed..."

Somehow, this made Mihawk grin as well. He really wanted to fight this presumptuous bastard. His greed almost begged for it.

"And you think I'd surrender without a fight? My crew would follow you without resistance?"

"Of course not," the other said lightly. "I don't want them to follow me. They are your crewmates, not mine. No, but you're really not ready to stand a chance against me – and honestly, the way you are now, fighting you would be really pointless – so you're going to have to bow to me."

Then his gaze became serious, and he strode towards Mihawk.

"But I'm not completely stupid either. I realize that you and Jiroushin – and who knows who else on this ship – are many times smarter than I am and I really don't want to have to watch my back all the time. That's why I'm making you an offer that it's worth it for you to help me too."

No matter what it was, Mihawk would kill this guy as soon as he got the chance, poison him if he had to. .

"What can you offer me? The sword on your hip? Why would I want it when I have mine?"

"You won't get Josei!" the other said defensively and grabbed said sword. "It's mine, after all!"

He took another step towards Mihawk, and his proximity made Mihawk uncomfortable, the look was making him uncomfortable.

"No, but I can teach you to regain your perfect control."

"What?" His body trembled, but Mihawk could not stop it.

The stranger nodded, but now he was serious.

"In my time, you and I have crossed swords many times. I am not afraid of your monster, Mihawk, on the contrary, I can teach you so that you no longer fear it either." A small, almost gentle smile now appeared on this strange face. "And then you and I can fight the way you want to, the way no one has ever done before."

Stunned, he stared down at this man who seemed to know everything about him, his greatest weakness, his most secret fear, his repressed...

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Mihawk whirled around. Jiroushin poked his head in, a tray of tea in his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, but... Where did he go?"

"What?"

Again Mihawk turned. The stranger who had been standing in front of him had disappeared.

"Cap... Hawky, what happened?" Confused, he looked over at Jiroushin, who looked at him ashen. "Your... your face?" he said.

Mihawk raised a hand, placed it on his cheek, felt the trace of a single tear.

"Who the hell was that?" Jiroushin asked.

"Roronoa," Mihawk murmured. "His name was Roronoa and he..." He did not know what he wanted to say. "He wanted to hijack this ship."

"What? And where is he now?"

"I do not know... Probably... in his time again."

Mihawk's eyes widened. Confused, he stared at the ceiling. He had been standing in his cabin just a moment ago. Ponderously, he sat up and looked around. Warm light fell through the window by his bed, the sun must have risen a long time ago, he had overslept.

His head felt unusually heavy as he rubbed the back of his neck, running his fingers through his hair and beard. What a strange dream it had been. Probably because the Straw Hats were out and about in the North Blue. But it was not often that Mihawk thought back to his time as captain of a pirate crew. Although they had been through a lot back then, his memories were pale and monotonous, just as his life had felt back then.

He got up slowly, got ready for the day in the bathroom, his thoughts far back in the past, as he could not shake off these images as easily as usual.

But then he was distracted by a soft beeping sound and his hands reached for the little transponder snail almost automatically.

"Can you speak freely?" he asked, as usual, after two seconds of silence.

"I can," came the usual reply.

"What an interesting coincidence that you are calling me right now," Mihawk murmured, still so slow in his mind, as the drowsiness would not let him go, "I had a really strange dream."

"Oh, is that so?" said the other, with an odd undertone. "Fits well, because I had a really strange encounter."