Hey everybody,
so today we finally reach the East Blue and I hope you'll enjoy it ;-)
Curse and Blessing – Part 3
-Mihawk-
It had been a quiet journey. Not that he had expected anything else. Thanks to the shortcut through the Calm Belt, it had only taken them a few days and the East Blue was a gentle sea by nature.
Times had changed of course, the young people often did not understand why the East Blue was called the weakest of the four blues by older generations, as many of the great names came from this very sea. But that did not change the fact that the currents and tides in the East Blue were almost peaceful and very predictable compared to the rest of the world. It was also not uncommon for veterans and aging warriors to retire here, another reason for the calm, because age alone did not mean that one should be less wary of those names.
Of course, that was not true for either of them. No one would dare to cross their path, and so they had come closer to no ship than the horizon. It was true that the confines of the coffin boat limited their ability to move, but since they were both excellent at lounging, it was almost like a little vacation. Especially with this fresh summer wind.
"And? What did Jiroushin say?" he asked, without turning around, watching the rising sun.
"I didn't talk to him," Roronoa replied evasively, just coming on deck. "That was the Cook. He said a few guests had seen the coffin boat, and he just wanted to make sure nothing happened."
"Oh?" He looked out of the corner of his eyes at Roronoa, who stood next to him. "I could have sworn..."
"Shut up!" Roronoa growled, blushing, averting his gaze.
"You can trust Jiroushin a little more. He takes good care of your student. You will see, by the time we get back, she will have made significant progress."
"I think..." Roronoa murmured after a few quiet seconds, "... that she already made a lot of progress. Not so much her fighting skills, to be honest – in fact, I thought she'd be faster, but her body is still very weak – but... in social stuff. Or am I wrong?"
"No, you are not," he confirmed Roronoa's perception. "Ray's presence is good for her. A child around her age, loud and with some strong opinions, but fortunately also of a very friendly disposition and despite everything also quite considerate. It will take some time and her past will always be with her, of course, but I think she can manage to break some of these rules of conduct that have been imposed on her."
"Are you sure?" He could feel Roronoa's gaze on him. It was not uncertainty, but rather a question as to whether Mihawk was just trying to appease him or whether this was actually his verdict.
"I am. After all, she is much more intelligent than you" – "Well, thank you very much." – "and she is still young, so it will be easier for her to unlearn wrong habits."
Roronoa was silent for a moment, but then he nodded, showing that faint smile. "That's good."
"Mhm... and what about the Chef? Are we going to visit him or the rest of your crew after Shimotsuki?"
"He has... invited us," Roronoa replied after another second. "But I haven't said yes yet. I... one step at a time. I don't want to think about it just... There it is."
On the horizon the faint shadow of an island appeared in the shimmering light of the morning sun. Mihawk took advantage of the moment to examine Roronoa, and for a moment he almost felt as if his 19-year-old self was standing there again, so young he seemed, so brightly did his gaze shine as his shoulders squared and he took a deep breath. Kuraigana and the Thousand Sunny might have become his home, his crew his family, Mihawk his partner, but it was on this island that he had spent his childhood, and now he would finally return.
A short time later, they were walking uphill at a leisurely pace along a broad path next to meadows and fields. Roronoa showed a rather unusual expression, looking from left to right, as if he wanted to take in everything, with a shining eye but a stern mouth. Sometimes he mentioned something, explaining what had changed, but most of the time they were silent. It was peaceful, although people were working in the fields, they hardly met anyone.
That changed when they reached the next village. There was the usual hustle and bustle of a busy everyday life, as they had experienced it down at the small harbor.
"It's up there," Roronoa remarked, nodding to the path that led out of the village, not far behind, at the foot of a small mountain Mihawk could make out scattered rooftops.
It really was not far from the water, a small island that almost seemed as if the turmoil of the world had no place here.
"Oh, I remember that," Roronoa remarked, nodding over to a small shop. "Back in the days, when we got a bit older, we used to... Tanjon?"
A younger man with a bowl cut and black hair had just stepped backwards out of the store, still talking to someone. But in the middle of the conversation, he fell silent and looked at them, his eyes widening.
"Zo... ro? Zoro!" He rushed toward them. "Gosh, is that really you? I hardly reco..." Then he saw Mihawk and, of course, he froze, as he should.
"Tanjon," Roronoa replied joyfully, walking towards the other, who was still staring at Mihawk as if he were about to run away screaming. Alas, he had lost none of his old charm. "You're back again? Didn't you want to travel the world?"
"Ahach," the stranger laughed, forcing his gaze away from Mihawk to Roronoa, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment as he blushed. "I only ever said that because I didn't want to fall behind you. But as soon as you left, I realized that I was actually very happy here. Besides, I couldn't have left the Master alone after you just ran away."
"Hey," Roronoa laughed as the other playfully punched him in the side. "But I'm happy about that. Master Koshiro could certainly use your help. And the others?"
"Hajime was actually at sea for a couple of years, you know? The fishermen of Katsudo had hired him as a bodyguard, and he..." He interrupted himself as two more men stepped out of the store. "Hey! Hajime, Kenta, look who's here?"
They all seemed to be about Roronoa's age and were no doubt his former comrades. The two newcomers reacted like the Bowl Cut, first surprise, then great joy, and then, as soon as they noticed Mihawk, a mixture of confusion and fear.
"Kenta, go! Go and tell the Master," said Bowl Cut, and after another moment of staring, the bald man nodded briefly, looked at Roronoa again, showed a grin and greeted him curtly before he turned around and ran up the path.
"Master knew you were coming!" said the curly-haired man, clearly too loudly. "Over a month ago, he mentioned that he would be very happy to see you again, and last week he said that you would probably be coming soon."
Then his gaze drifted over to Mihawk and Roronoa seemed to notice, for he only grinned broadly and pointed his thumb at Mihawk.
"He's with me," he said casually instead of a real explanation, but Mihawk was fine with that, he did not care who these men were. But he could see that Roronoa's explanation confused the others more than anything else. "Then come on, if Master Koshiro already knows I'm coming, I don't want to keep him waiting."
Mihawk followed a step behind them, listening to them talk about this and that, ask questions, reminisce about times gone by. It was clear that the three of them had spent many years together and for a moment Roronoa was no longer the best swordsman in the world, no longer a feared and infamous pirate, one of the strongest warriors, but simply an apprentice of a dojo. However, it quickly became apparent that Roronoa had already back then trained much more ambitiously and relentlessly than his comrades. The curly-haired man proudly showed off his scars from his time on the high seas and told how he himself had returned only a few months ago, but interrupted himself when they finally reached the small dojo.
They all stopped when Roronoa stopped, he took a deep breath, shining eye, warm smile.
The courtyard was small, it was a simple dojo, well maintained, the name was written outside in simple characters. Several dozen students of different ages practiced the usual basic steps in the courtyard, under the guidance of a few other apprentices.
Roronoa let out a low sound, almost a laugh, when he saw them. So this was the place where Roronoa had spent most of his childhood.
The first to notice them were several children, they froze in their exercises, some even pointed at them, and within a few seconds the structured training collapsed.
"Now now, remember, you are in the middle of a lesson. No interruptions," corrected an elderly man who had just stepped out onto the terrace of the main house and clapped his hands several times for order. "Just because we got visitors doesn't mean you should be distracted. No matter how familiar the names may be."
The students reacted almost immediately to the gentle words of the teacher, even if here and there a furtive glance slipped in their direction, yet the apprentices stared at them openly.
But the teacher ignored this and gave them a friendly smile, took a step aside and gestured to the premises of his kendo school. "Please, come in."
At the terrace to the training room, Roronoa's comrades remained behind as they entered the room and Roronoa sat down on the floor in an appropriate posture as was customary in a dojo while the door was closed behind them, his former teacher at the head of the room, in the same posture; Mihawk stayed at the closed door.
"Master Koshiro." Roronoa bowed deeply, resting his fists on the simple wooden floor. "I have returned."
"Welcome back." They were silent for a moment, then Shimotzuki Koshiro rose and walked towards Roronoa. "And now that we're done with the formalities, let me take a proper look at you, Zoro."
With his arms wide open, he greeted Roronoa, who bowed again and then stood up, an honest smile on his lips as his former teacher looked at him with a warm look, finally patted him on the shoulders and then, obviously to Roronoa's surprise, pulled him into an embrace.
"Ma... Master?" it came from him, without really moving.
"I don't think it's appropriate for the best swordsman in the world to call me master anymore," Shimotzuki replied with warmth in his voice, loosening the embrace and holding Roronoa by the shoulder. "What a joy to see you again."
"No matter what I achieve and what titles I gain, you will always be my master."
The old man's narrow eyes became shiny. "You have always been such a selfless, kind person." Then, almost accidentally, his gaze drifted to Mihawk.
"Oh," Roronoa said, and he took half a step in Mihawk's direction, his former master's hand still on his shoulder. "May I introduce, Dracule Mihawk. He's my partner."
"Mhm," the old man said.
"Mihawk, Master Koshiro."
Mihawk strode into the room.
"What an honor, I didn't think I would ever meet you, Mr. Dracule," the old man remarked.
He stopped a step away from Roronoa and met that honest look. Then he bowed his head in a curt bow.
"Mr. Shimotzuki, it is a pleasure to meet you. It seems I owe you a great debt of gratitude." He ignored Roronoa's incredulous face in the corner of his eye. "Even though your abilities are so limited" – "Hey!" – "you were a good teacher to Roronoa, providing him with support and guidance when others had failed. Without your help, he would not have become what he is today, and I appreciate you very much for that."
"Oh, thank you very much," Shimotzuki laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I would not have dared to hope for such benevolent words from you, Mr. Dracule, when you are so well known for your sharp tongue."
"Do not be mistaken," said Mihawk, eyeing him coolly. "There is nothing benevolent about my words, but even if your qualities as a swordsman are... unfortunate, I can still acknowledge your qualities as a teacher."
"Seriously?!" Roronoa growled from the side, shaking his head at him.
"Impressive." Shimotzuki looked at him intently. "One glance and you have immediately grasped my abilities. But it should not surprise me, your skills must be unparalleled. After all, no one has ever managed to hold the title as long as you."
"Indeed, but I had been given no choice. It took a long time to find a worthy successor."
They looked at each other for a moment, then looked at once at Roronoa, who stood between them, blushing under their gaze.
"Whatever," he remarked, ruffling through his hair before turning to his former teacher. "I'd like to go to the grave and..."
He fell silent as Shimotzuki nodded in understanding.
"Of course, go ahead. We can talk later. You should not keep her waiting too long."
Roronoa nodded with a gentle smile.
"Mr. Dracule, may I invite you for a cup of tea? You must have had a long journey; I want to welcome you properly."
He met the wise gaze of the old master.
"Certainly." Then he nodded to Roronoa, who only glanced over at him briefly, nodded as well, and left without any hesitation.
"I do have a question," Shimotzuki remarked thoughtfully as Roronoa closed the door behind him. "When Zoro called you his partner, did he mean...?"
"No," Mihawk objected with slight tension, "he meant it in a romantic sense."
"Oh, that does indeed surprise me." Shimotzuki smiled slightly. "Well, he has grown up, hasn't he? Unfortunately, he had to lose his childlike innocence at a very early age."
"And yet this is the place where he was allowed to be a child and grow up in safety."
The older man turned to him; his narrow eyes wide open.
"You seem to know him well."
This brought a smile to Mihawk's face.
"Probably better than he does himself, but that should not be a surprise."
"It shouldn't?" But whatever Shimotzuki meant by that, he kept to himself as he led Mihawk to the adjacent teahouse. There they waited in silence while Baldhead served them tea, eyeing him suspiciously the whole time. Mihawk did not really care for these old traditions, but he was aware of how much respect the teacher wanted to show, and he could at least accept that. So he turned the cup once or twice, as was customary, before finally drinking the mild tea.
Finally, Baldhead had finished his task and left the room.
"Well?" Mihawk raised his voice. "You have something to say?"
Again, the other's eyes widened.
"You are indeed quite straight forward," he said calmly.
"I do not think much of insignificant chit-chat, and if you wish to talk to me, I would prefer you to just do so. Anything else would be a pointless waste of time."
Shimotzuki was silent. He was obviously thinking about Mihawk's words as he poured him tea. Then he sat down and examined Mihawk thoughtfully.
"You seem to me to be a very indomitable, serious person. I have heard a lot about you, rational strategist, heartless, merciless, emotionless, the newspapers have never made a secret of portraying you as an inhuman monster. But even in the circles of swordsmanship, the phrases sounded similar. To put it simply, you've always had the impression of a cold-hearted, dismissive loner," he challenged Mihawk's patience. "In recent years, the rumors about you have been much more contradictory, so I had doubts about my perception. But now that you are sitting across from me, I see my original assessment confirmed, or would you disagree?"
"No."
"Mhm," Shimotzuki replied, lowering his gaze to the tea in his hands. "You said you know Zoro very well. Then I am certain you know a lot about his past, his time here on this peaceful island, in this small, inconspicuous school."
"Of course."
Now Shimotzuki tilted his head slightly. "Then why are you accompanying Zoro to this place? You are very blatant in showing your disapproval, so I don't think your appreciation that you expressed in front of Zoro was a lie. But why?"
"Unnecessary questions, simple answers," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "I can appreciate what you have done for Roronoa in the past, regardless of your lack of skill as a swordsman and your absolute failure as a father. I am only interested in what you have done for Roronoa, I do not care for the rest."
Shimotzuki uttered a low sound as Mihawk spoke and put down his tea to take off his glasses, rubbing them as if he had to clean them.
"And the answer to why I accompanied Roronoa is just as simple. Because he wanted it and asked me to. It was important to him to show me the place of his childhood, and it was important to me to see it. Nothing more, nothing less."
It was quiet, but Mihawk had no intention of changing that.
"Phew," Shimotzuki finally said as he put his glasses back on. "I was prepared for your ruthlessness, but to hear such words from a stranger..."
"If simple honesty is too much for you, you should not have invited me to tea," he replied coolly, "but you knew about my ruthlessness, and yet here we are. So go ahead, explain yourself, justify yourself, defend yourself, in front of me. I will offer you the chance, for Roronoa, tell me why you failed so miserably with your daughter, even though you are from the same generation as my sister."
A tension slid through the other man, his mouth a thin line, the cup in his hands trembled. For a few breaths, there was nothing left in the room but this tension, but Mihawk did not care.
"So he knew," he finally said. "I wasn't sure if Kuina told him at the time, but after your sharp remarks... he knew it all the time and yet... yet he gives me such respect. Didn't you tell him about your sister?"
"Of course," Mihawk replied coolly. "But Roronoa is in fact capable of differentiation. He has great respect for you and is grateful to you for everything you have done, and yet, of course, he has his own opinions and views, some of which differ from yours."
"And you? You're condemning me, aren't you?" Clearly, he met Mihawk's gaze. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to influence Zoro in that regard."
"Oh, you are taking yourself too important. You are not the first weak father figure I have met in my life, I could not care less about that. You paved the path for Roronoa, I am grateful for that, the life and death of your daughter is of no interest to me."
Shimotzuki swallowed and for a moment his features slipped, then he had them back under control.
"And yet, even though you knew why I was going to talk to you, you want me to justify myself, as you called it. Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"But you're not going to tell me?"
"No."
Silence. After a few seconds, the old teacher raised his eyebrows in bewilderment, leaned back and repositioned himself before clearing his throat quietly.
"Very well. You are right, of course I've followed your sister's rise. I was still an amateur when the rumors of a child prodigy swept over the Blues. I remember it well. A young girl, a Dracule – a Dracule, of course – barely a dozen years old, and she was said to have beaten well-known swordsmen, certainly raising some eyebrows. I was curious about her fighting style, when all her opponents had to be bigger, heavier, and stronger, but I heard the older ones talking, and some of us younger ones adopted it. It's all just rumors. Maybe she's quite talented, but it's probably never been a serious fight for the real warriors. They let her win, no one likes to make little girls cry. No matter how strong she may be for her age, women will always be weaker than men in the end."
Shimotzuki was silent for several seconds, examining his teacup thoughtfully.
"I know how strange I thought it was at the time. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, and everyone felt they had to explain why these rumors couldn't be true. As if they felt threatened, their pride wounded, even though there were so many swordsmen in the world who were better, or about whom there were unbelievable stories, but only in the case of the princess of swordsmanship there was always this need to mention it. But no matter what everyone said, the rumors grew louder, the name became known, and at some point, the princess crowned herself queen, even the greatest swordsmen of the time bowed to her skills and praised her as the best swordswoman in the world, even the rumors fell silent, and I didn't think much about it anymore." He sighed heavily, and Mihawk put down his tea. "When... The news of Dracule Sharak's death had shaken the world much more than many would like to admit. She had been so young, so promising, so indomitable, and of course the old words had become loud again. I myself met my wife at the time, and I still remember how I was haunted at night by thoughts of how agonizingly terrible such a loss must have been."
Again, he was silent, and Mihawk realized that he did not really like this quiet manner.
"Those memories faded over time, I married my wife, you earned the title of best swordsman, and I took over this kendo school. Over the years, there was only one Dracule, the infamous Hawk Eyes, about whom there were so many rumors that were so fantastically unbelievable that they had to be true... I think some people were grateful to be able to forget your sister's name. I don't know if I've forgotten myself, but when my daughter was born, I held her in my arms, held my exhausted wife's hand, and all I could think of was that newspaper article." With a jerk he looked up and met Mihawk's gaze, his narrow eyes wide open. "It wasn't a deliberate decision; I can't even take credit for that. It happened unconsciously, the older my daughter got, the fewer female students I admitted, the more often I said those words I had heard in my youth... and believed them. Women are not made for fighting, they will always be weaker than men. But Kuina... Oh, you would have seen her talent, her will, her... fighting spirit."
He showed a smile, almost something like pride, but then it faded.
"Many at my school claimed that Kuina was given preferential treatment, that she wasn't that good, but that the older ones wouldn't dare to win against her because she was my daughter. It was nonsense, but I didn't say anything against it. Until Kuina was eight, I had been against letting her attend classes at my school, but she trained on her own, watching me, my apprentices, and also the students – and who knows what part my father had before he died – and at some point I had to admit that she was more talented than anyone else in the school, oh, than anyone else on the island, including myself."
"Even more talented than Roronoa?"
"Oh, that piques your interest, doesn't it?"
He did not say anything, just looked at Shimotzuki coldly until he lowered his gaze.
"Zoro... Sometimes there are a few teenagers or adults who still want to learn sword fighting, but most of the children in my school enter between the ages of four and six. Kuina and Zoro both joined at the age of eight and you'd think it would have put them at a huge disadvantage, but while most of the other students thought I had trained her privately, Zoro had no previous training in sword fighting, but... Within a few weeks, he was better than anyone his age, it took him less than a year to defeat all the students – and apprentices – of this school, all but Kuina. No matter what he did, he couldn't defeat her."
"Should you not be proud of that?"
The other looked up in surprise and then shook his head.
"I hope she was proud, she did an impressive job, but I... You are quite right in your words; I was an awful father. You see, when I saw Zoro's talent, I was... Even though I had such a talented daughter, against whom Zoro had not once been able to stand his grounds in their thousands and thousands of fights, I put my hopes in him, and I did not disagree when some wondered whether he would one day be a suitable successor." He sighed again and then looked at Mihawk. "So yes, you are right. I failed as a father. The words I once smiled at passed my lips as if they were a matter of course, even though I knew that the younger ones were parroting me, even though I knew she would hear it, from them and from me. I don't even know exactly why I did it, why I believed those words. Maybe I wanted to keep her from seeking the fight. I thought I would save her from a terrible fate if I broke her will, I thought I would save her life, but in the end, I lost her anyway, to such an everyday accident that was so much crueler than I could have ever imagined."
Resigned, Shimotzuki emptied his tea, obviously finished his remarks, and so they sat there in silence for a few seconds.
"You are mistaken," Mihawk finally remarked, rising, and putting his cup away, knowing that this was not in accordance with the formalities.
"Excuse me?" Shimotzuki sounded puzzled, but Mihawk kept his back turned to him.
"Believe me. You may have failed as a father, but you could not break your daughter's will." He held the cup for another moment before finally letting go. "You were too weak for that, and she was too strong."
Shimotzuki breathed a sigh of relief as if to say something but remained silent. Only after a few seconds did he raise his voice again: "May I say something very presumptuous to you?"
This elicited a quiet laugh from Mihawk.
"Are my words that amusing?"
"They are indeed. Roronoa had already warned me, but you really are an almost too polite man. Well, I am listening." He knew what was coming, just as nothing of the previous conversation had surprised him.
"Your... You remind me a bit of... my daughter."
Still turning his back on the other, he could not help but smile.
"I did not think you were so heartless as to compare your own daughter to a monster."
"Wha... No." He could hear Shimotzuki stumbling to his feet, completely taken by surprise. "That's not what I meant, and I... Excuse me, I did not mean to offend you."
"You did not." Slowly, he turned to the other, still amused by the situation. "You think your late daughter was like me? Some girl from the East Blue with a bit of talent?"
"Yes, I do." Shimotzuki did not smile. "Of course, I am aware of the differences and my daughter has never had the opportunity to grow up, to develop, to mature, to reach for your title. But the parallels are unmistakable."
"Oh, are they now?"
And all of a sudden, there was this faint smile. "Well, you tell me? She loved sword fighting, I have never seen a person who loved sword fighting as much as this child. Other children took stuffed animals to bed, she hugged the sword of her grandfather tightly in her sleep. She was a serious child, didn't have many... She didn't really have any friends, but all you had to do was mention swordplay and she flourished. She was a loner, isolated from the other students, for which I was partly to blame, misunderstood and a bit feared by one or the other, after all, she had her mother's temperament and pride."
Shimotzuki walked beside him and set down his cup as well.
"And another thing you have in common."
"Roronoa."
"Right. She didn't like him at first, you know, he was somewhat cocky and maybe a little too confident. But she immediately saw through his abilities and therefore probably found him a bit presumptuous, enjoyed the fact that he could never defeat her." He gave Mihawk a quick sidelong glance. "But over time, she learned to stand him. Probably... I suspect he was the one who approached her, not the other way around, definitely not the other way around. Besides, if anyone has ever understood her joy in fighting, her will to improve, then it must have been Zoro. Because there was no one here in this school who trained as hard as she did, no one but Zoro."
Again they were silent.
"I think I am going to meet up with Roronoa at your daughter's grave now."
"Please excuse me, I said it was presumptuous," Shimotzuki justified himself and bowed curtly as Mihawk turned to the door.
"I worship the sword," Mihawk continued coolly, as if the other had not interrupted him. "There is nothing in this world that fulfills me as much as the art of the sword. My sister understood, she with her direct, honest manner, she also loved the sword, she also loved fighting."
Slowly, he looked at the other.
"I am well aware that your daughter and I share certain traits, just as Roronoa shares certain traits with my sister, but the differences will probably outweigh the similarities. But the one thing that unites us all is the devotion to the sword, and only true swordfighters will ever be able to understand that."
The narrow eyes behind the glasses widened and then Shimotzuki bowed deeply.
"Thank you!"
"Tze, how unnecessary."
It took him only a few minutes to find Roronoa, ignoring the eyes that had been following him, finding his partner at a plain tombstone. As he came closer, Roronoa looked up at him briefly, a soft smile on his lips.
"The school is still standing."
"Oh, please, as if they were worth my wrath."
They were there in silence, Mihawk leaning against some tombstone, Roronoa kneeling on the ground. The wind rustled in the leaves and a pleasant breeze caressed their clothes. It was peaceful, Roronoa mostly with his eyes closed, sometimes looking up at the tombstone, sometimes at the sky, words in the air that would probably never be spoken, that would probably never be heard. Mihawk let his gaze wander over their surroundings, like a bystander hearing a stranger's conversation without listening.
Eventually, Roronoa stood up and met his gaze before nodding gently.
Together they walked back to the school, where the afternoon training had just begun. But Shimotzuki did not sit on the terrace, as was customary for the teacher, but awaited them at the entrance.
"Would you like to join me? A little nostalgia certainly can't hurt, can it, Zoro?"
Roronoa grinned broadly. "I'd rather take part, but okay, let's be the observer, wanted to practice that a bit anyway."
Shimotzuki acknowledged this statement with a slight frown, but then walked with them to the terrace and offered them a place to watch, so they sat there. But while Roronoa exchanged a few warm and benevolent words with his former teacher from time to time, it was slowly becoming too much for Mihawk.
"That is enough!" he growled and stood up, making all the students and apprentices freeze on the spot. He glared over at Shimotzuki for a moment. "You cannot invite me and then expect me to watch this tragedy without comment."
"Hey, cut the crap!" Roronoa was already rising, but interrupted himself when Shimotzuki raised a hand reassuringly.
"Mr. Dracule, it is a privilege for us that you honor this humble school with your presence. I must apologize that our performance cannot meet your standards."
They looked at each other for a brief moment and words were unnecessary, so Mihawk just snorted, rolled his eyes, and nodded curtly.
"Yes, it is an honor for this school," he grumbled, unimpressed, and walked up to Baldhead. "You, come here!"
It spoke for him that he did not faint on the spot, but he trembled as he walked through the ranks of students and stopped in front of him, but Mihawk turned to the rest of the students.
"I am only going to say it once, so listen carefully. I do not teach the average, there is nothing edifying about looking at a poor performance. But your teacher has laid the foundations in the training of the current best swordsman in the world, and for this reason - and for this reason alone - I am willing to make a one-time exception." He stared down at them coldly, and no one dared to speak. "But I am not willing to adjust my methods to the average, so remember this, I do not repeat myself, no one interrupts me, no one speaks when I speak, and what I say is law. None of you need to participate in this session, so if you cannot handle it or are not willing to do what I am asking for in the following hours, then get out. I have no time to waste on idlers."
Naturally, no one moved.
"Good. Baldhead here is going to do the basic steps now and I am going to correct him. Watch closely, listen carefully, take in every word and every position." He pointed to the bald man. "Come on, Baldhead!"
"Uhm... my name is..."
"Do I look like I care? Start or leave."
He could feel Roronoa's gaze on him – like everyone else's, but the others were the same to him – as he harshly corrected the apprentice's obvious mistakes, grabbed his shoulders, pushed his feet into the right position. He knew the doctrine and procedures of most schools, but he lacked the patience for this slow kind of improvement. Of course, you could slowly improve your position and posture with the thousandth repetitions, but that was not enough for him.
There was a lot to correct, and he had to repeat himself often, Baldhead was far from a natural talent, but he tried, at least, and he did not immediately break down crying under Mihawk's harsh words, at least.
The rest of the students knelt on the ground and watched, but of course they were only children and of course they did not understand, lost concentration over time and threw glances at each other, some of them sneering. It probably was satisfying that the apprentice, who always corrected them and maybe also taunted them from time to time, was now constantly corrected and tormented by a foreign teacher.
"Alright, that is enough." Breathing hard, Baldhead threw himself forward and rested both hands on his thighs as Mihawk turned around. "Is it fun? It is nice to watch someone try to do their best while you laze around, isn't it? Let me clarify what just happened. Baldhead here is better than all of you, that is why I chose him. Any other of you would have collapsed from exhaustion by now. So ridicule him all you want, enjoy the fact that I torment him, but realize that he has just been given a private lesson by the best teacher in the world, while the rest of you were only allowed to watch."
Then he pointed to the other apprentices, including those sitting at Shimotzuki's side.
"Come here!"
They glanced briefly at their master, but at his nod they jumped up and hurried over, four in number, Bowl Cut, Curlyhead, and two somewhat younger, Glasses and Long Hair.
Mihawk, on the other hand, looked over at Roronoa, and with a heavy sigh he rose and shuffled over.
"Fine, Baldhead, you go take a shower, you stink. After that, come back. You two" — he pointed to Glasses and Long Hair — "will now accompany Roronoa, and you two will accompany me. Listen to how we teach, listen to how we correct. If you have any questions, ask. Stupidity is a disgrace, but it is even more shameful not to do anything about it, and stupid teachers cannot teach smart students – stupid ones neither, obviously, but I do not care about them – so learn and get better."
Roronoa sighed again but said nothing.
Mihawk raised his voice: "All in the starting position. I am going to give the rhythm for eight beats, then keep it up."
It did not surprise him when he turned around and Shimotzuki stood next to his apprentices, his polite smile on his lips.
"May I accompany you?" he asked politely.
"Anything else would be stupid."
"Hey!" Roronoa elbowed him in the side. "Don't overdo it."
They looked at each other briefly, then Roronoa sighed and rolled his eye before turning around.
Mihawk did the same, and then their lesson began. He credited the apprentices for asking a lot of questions after their initial shyness – mostly very stupid questions, but well, he had allowed that – while Shimotzuki mostly watched calmly. Very seldom did he note little, extremely clever things, and the few questions he asked testified to the quality of his eye.
With half an ear, Mihawk also paid attention to Roronoa. He knew that it was not exactly Roronoa's comfort zone to not only teach others, but also to be watched, questioned, but this was a good lesson for him too, and even if Roronoa could not express himself the way he wanted to, both his eye and his thoughts were always ideal.
The session finally ended with them all at the front of the terrace, and the students, partly drenched in sweat, in front of them in the courtyard.
Mihawk noticed Roronoa's gaze and sighed, giving in, causing Roronoa to show a faint grin.
"Very well." He walked through the rows of students, noticing how some of them trembled as he passed them. "You, you - not you, the girl next to you, yes, you – you, and the little one with the glasses who thinks he can hide behind others. Exactly, by the way, do not ever dare to do that again."
He walked back to the front and then turned.
"You can go change now. The training is over. The four I have just picked are getting ready for a practice fight. You have thirty minutes. The others will give you the precedence, no matter what it is about." The students unanimously agreed. "And even though I should not even have to mention it, I would advise everyone to attend the practice fights."
He met Roronoa's gaze, who still showed a slight grin and then followed the apprentices who were also going to change. As a result, he and Shimotzuki were left alone.
"Impressive," the old teacher remarked. "You have a very harsh choice of words and yet... each of your instructions, each of your advices were perfectly adapted to the level of each student."
"An instruction that the pupil cannot understand, let alone implement, only testifies to the inability of the teacher."
He ignored the other's knowing smile.
"You are truly a teacher to the next generation of swordmasters." But he probably wanted to say something else.
"I am," he told the truth before looking at Shimotzuki, "but there is something I would appreciate your assessment of."
"Oh?"
"Indeed. As you rightly point out, I can mold true masters of the sword out of the willing and the talented. But you do teach everything here, from unwilling to absolutely talentless, and I have rather limited experience in this area."
"Like I said, you have a harsh choice of words. How can I help you?"
They looked at each other.
"There is a child, exquisite talent, excellent fighting spirit, and the necessary stubbornness, but... how to teach someone with low motivation, lack of discipline, and misguided self-awareness? To be honest, I myself do not think much of boring dry practice, dreary training, I do not hold that against anyone, but I am still one of the very best, rightly so. But this child is... Words and deeds are too far apart. The words promise great will and even stronger perseverance, but..."
"... as soon as the exercises become just somewhat more strenuous, the whining is great and the motivation is gone, isn't it?"
"I knew you were already familiar with such behavior."
"Yes, I am. But I have to disappoint you, I don't have a magic solution for you."
"No need to apologize, I came into this conversation with no expectations."
Shhimotzki showed a smile.
"But I can give you some advice. You cannot make a decision for this child, and you cannot replace lacking will. But you can endure it, you can keep the way open for this child, offer a hand, demand discipline when the will weakens. It will demand a great deal of patience from you, even more forgiveness, not of mistakes, but of displeasure, which you must not take as disrespect for the sword. After all, what could be more admirable than to walk an arduous path in spite of this, even if one's will weakens and one could not succeed without help?"
They looked at each other in silence.
"You are truly a good-natured person."
"Well, I am aware that you belittle this good-naturedness, perhaps even rightly so, since it can cost me a lot of time and end up being a waste of good meant effort. But I still want to believe that it's the right way to go." He sighed and looked up as the first students streamed back into the courtyard. "After all, this good-naturedness gave me the strength to be able to give Zoro a bit of support when even I was afraid of my own student."
Mihawk left this uncommented and watched as the students knelt on the floor around the place in the center where the four chosen ones had gathered, in clean uniforms, obviously nervous.
Then the apprentices came back and sat down in their seats on the terrace.
"Um, excuse me," one of the children asked, "but... what kind of fight will this be? Who of us is fighting who?"
A fair question since the four had very different qualities.
"Well, your..."
"So, are you ready to go?" Roronoa walked in, a big grin on his face, wearing one of those ugly uniforms, loosened his left shoulder with his right hand, rotating it, a bamboo sword in his free hand. "So, who's my first opponent?"