Okay everybody,

get ready, because today we're loaded with lore!
Have fun ;-)


Harvesting Fruits

-Mihawk-

"Woah! I've never been down here before! Pretty impressive! Almost even more impressive that this part of the castle actually survived the battle. How did you know that...?"

"Could you please be silent? I did not ask you to accompany me. If you are going to persecute me, then at least in silence."

"And as always, your mood is... alright, I shut up."

Scoffing, he continued his way. It was rare for Roronoa to ask him for anything specifically, but when Mihawk had told him that he had agreed to meet with the Red Shanks and other representatives at the remains of Marijoas to make decisions about the future — which the Straw Hats had no interest in, of course — Roronoa had asked him to seek out Oarnos.

It was a bit surprising, since Roronoa actually cared little for this history of the past, but something about this tree — or at least its remains — seemed important to him, even if he did not reveal what it was to Mihawk. However, he had told Mihawk that he had come here after the battle to give Oarnos his true blood, but it had not helped, had not brought what Roronoa had expected, whatever that was.

That was why Mihawk had now seized the opportunity and evaded the rather boring and much too loud and uncouth discussions. Unfortunately, Redhair of all people had smelled the rat and pursued him.

Now they walked through the expansive hall with the tapestries Roronoa had already told him about. Mihawk had little consideration for them, as he knew what they would show him. He did pause for one of them though, met the look that he had so often met in the mirror, but he had no thoughts to waste on his ancestors.

Right before the large, impressive double gate, behind which he suspected the remains of Oarnos, he did stop a second longer. He also ignored the red carpet with the broadly grinning fool on his left but could not ignore the green carpets on his right. One of them was one of the few depicting two people, and although he recognized Roronoa Zakuro immediately, the king of Alciel did also not seem too foreign.

Then he walked on, ignoring Redhair's half-quiet murmur and slamming open the double doors.

"Wow!" came from Shanks, who was peeking over his shoulder, "what happened here?"

Directly behind the double doors was a landing, and a sweeping stone staircase led down at a steep angle. The railing on the sides, once probably magnificent, was mainly destroyed. Rubble and ashes everywhere. Bricks, masonry, and pebbles scattered all around, as if the battle had taken place here, too. To the sides of the huge room, Mihawk could make out the remains of a balcony that had probably once led around the whole room and enclosed what was in the middle of it.

A huge, black colossus stood there, in the middle of this strange room, more than twice as high as a giant.

"What's that?" muttered Redhair next to him, almost reverently. "Is that...? That used to be... a tree? It must have been huge before it collapsed."

"Yes," Mihawk only remarked and walked down the stairs, keeping Oarnos in view. Roronoa had described to him how he had found the sleeping tree a few weeks ago, but his descriptions were anything but detailed, so it was kind of impossible for Mihawk to determine whether anything had changed in the meantime.

"Somehow... it almost looks like a prison."

Redhair's words distracted him from the huge cut that went almost all the way down the colossus. The pirate had stopped, looked at the walls and then at the floor, which was paved with hard stone except for a few feet around the hardened trunk.

"Such a huge tree certainly needed more soil than this small spot here, and a lot of sunlight, but without the light from the hall back there it would be pitch dark down here." He looked at Mihawk. "The world aristocrats may have brought a lot of things to the depths of this castle, but this tree had already been here, right? They built the castle around it. Why?"

"To stay in control," Mihawk replied and walked on. The moment he stepped from the cobblestone onto hard earth, he suddenly heard a whisper echoing from the stones.

Do not force me

It will be on my hands for all time

Please, do not do that

He swallowed, but a sideways glance at Redhair showed him that he did not seem to hear anything.

Kill me

Your fate is your decision

Soak this soil

He ignored the whisper and finally stopped in front of the trunk.

"Somehow... the energy here is completely different," Redhair murmured a few steps behind him. "I've felt something like that before, back then on..."

"Say," he interrupted the other, since he had no interest in his boring stories, slowly turning to him, "what do you think about breaking down this prison here?"

Shanks looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean...?"

"Yes."

"Won't make the others happy if we start to reduce everything to rubble here and now."

"So what? What do I care?"

Shanks looked at him for a moment, then he looked up at the ceiling with a grin.

"Well, Fine with me. Even though I don't really know why you..."

Mihawk raised a hand and interrupted him. "Just to be clear, that hall up there and this one here remain untouched, understood?" He pointed to the tree behind him, heard the whispered words of past times, which Redhair obviously did not notice.

He just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course. But you know, you could just tell me why we're here in the first place and why you're doing all this."

"But I will not."

Again they just looked at each other, while Shanks played the absolutely clueless, then he just shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever, but you take responsibility." The next moment he jumped into the air, towards the ceiling.

Mihawk ignored him, ignoring the loud crash and falling debris as he walked to the edge of the stone enclosure and laid a hand on the ground. With a simple shockwave he released the stones from the earth, then he grabbed Yoru and it only took a gentle swing and they sped away, against the debris that crashed to the ground, leaving dark ground behind.

Again Mihawk put a hand on the ground, felt the roots in the shallows, farther than even his senses could reach. He straightened up, put Yoru away and walked towards the tree. The whisper became more urgent, louder, as if Mihawk were approaching strangers' conversations.

"Whatever happened in the past, rest assured, I am not your enemy," he said clearly, touching the petrified trunk. He did not know if he was expecting anything, but nothing happened, just like nothing had happened to Roronoa.

So he closed his eyes and would now do what probably only he could do. Carefully he let his haki glide over the stony crust, looking for the finest cracks and flowing deeper and deeper. He would blow up this prison.

"Wow, what are you doing...?"

"Be quiet," he murmured without opening his eyes. "I need to concentrate."

"You?"

He did not say anything, felt the soft cracks and how his haki widened slightly in the shakes, gradually loosening the hard layers as it flowed further and further, deeper into this petrified prison, searching for...

An incredible energy flowed through his body, so abruptly and with such force that his heart stopped for a moment. Every cell of his body pulsated, and he stood there frozen, the darkness behind his eyelids became glaringly bright and then suddenly he saw a meadow, as if from a bird's eye view, branches and leaves to his left and right, and then he became aware of what was happening.

At the foot of the tree from which he looked down, the grass was sparsely spread between the mighty roots, but there, between these green spots, sat a man with equally green hair, facing the tree, his hands resting on his knees, his head bowed so low that Mihawk could see his neck, though not much more.

"What is your desire?" The voice of the man down there echoed deeply and for a split second Mihawk actually thought he was the one being addressed, although he knew better.

"I have been looking for you, Sensei," answered a clear voice outside Mihawk's limited field of vision.

"I am not your sensei, and you should not be here," the man close to the trunk replied. "Go back home, you have no business here."

"I can't!" Black hair jumped into Mihawk's field of vision. A child, perhaps ten or eleven years old, rushed towards the man. "I have renounced the House of Dracule. There is no turning back for me."

The man on the trunk sighed.

"That was very stupid of you. You are still a child; you do not know what you want. Go home, apologize for your behavior, and then do your duty as I do mine."

"If I did, I would fail. Sensei, you've seen how they... fight and I've seen you fight. The path of my ancestors is not enough for me, I want to fight like you, so please, teach me."

"You reject the way of the sword?" the man asked.

"No, I worship the sword, but I realize that the path my ancestors have walked for generations is imperfect. It was never enough for me, but since I've seen you fight, I know why. Please, teach me. With your help, I will learn to fight as no swordfighter has ever dared to dream."

The man close to the trunk still had his back turned to the child, tilting his head slightly from left to right.

"My duty is not that of a teacher. I am not destined to teach you."

"If not you, then who? I've never seen anyone fight like you. I beg you!" The child fell on the knees and bowed deeply, honest despair in this fragile voice. "Please, I gave up everything I had, precisely because I honor the way of the sword so much. Any other path than yours would seem like blasphemy to me."

"Stop bowing down to me. I'm no one to..."

"But you are..."

"Nothing more than a guardian, not a teacher. I cannot teach you what you ask me to do. I know the warriors of your family, they are good teachers, go back to them and learn, and if they have nothing more to teach, then learn anyway, that is the only thing I can advise you. You and I, we have our tasks. Return home, learn and fulfill yours, honor the way of the sword, teach the next king as is destined for the House Dracule. I, on the other hand, will stay here and fulfill my task."

The conversation seemed closed; a decision made.

"That's why I'm here, Sensei. Haven't you been told about me. The disgraced child."

As if this would attract the man's attention, he raised his head without turning around.

"The great hope of the Dracules," he said thoughtfully. "A child, barely a dozen years old and already invincible."

He turned around. "I remember that although no one in your family could defeat you, even well-known warriors and glorious heroes lost against you, you failed, nonetheless. You, of all people, have failed in the way of the sword, the way of your family."

The child had lowered the head again.

"How can that be? How can you fail when you are better than everyone else and so much weaker people have succeeded?"

"They don't understand me," the child exclaimed. "They don't understand my idea of fighting. They think it's a fantasy, an unattainable ideal and that's why they ostracize me, that's why I left. I swear to you, you may say that I don't respect the way of the sword, but that's not true. I just think it's so much more than we know so far, and you're the only one who can help me go further down this path than anyone has ever done before. And only then can I fulfill my task."

The man bowed his head for a moment, then sighed and rose.

"I am repeating myself. I am not a teacher, but a guardian. I do not know how to teach, and I am not interested in it." The child took a sharp breath. "But as you know, this place is a place of protection and refuge. No one is turned away. So I cannot stop you from staying. What you do with that is up to you."

The child answered something, but what could Mihawk no longer hear, while time seemed to pass faster. He saw the man at the tree, cutting open his forearm and letting blood drip onto the strong roots, a black spot at the edge of his field of vision, then he saw the same man a few meters away, other clothes, it was early morning or late evening, he was sitting in the grass, his hands folded in his lap, seemed to be meditating, the child was sitting several meters away. The man, as he performed slow exercises, the child behind him, imitating his movements. The man cleaning an inconspicuous sword, the child sitting next to him, apparently asking questions. Leaves were falling, they were doing exercises again, sitting by a fire, talking to each other, it was raining, they were outside. The man's voice echoed unintelligibly over the vortex of successive days to Mihawk. The child practiced soaking wet, without the man. Several times the child collapsed, got up again, continued to train until there was no more getting up. The sun was setting, a lonely source of light came closer, and the man lifted the child up, felt the forehead, shook his head, carried the child away.

Snow fell, leaves formed, buds bloomed, dark green leaves fell, giving way to light green, almost white, while the snow fell again. And in between again and again the two of them, sometimes only one of them, sometimes other people present. Then it was just the two of them again and the child, now grown up, bowed deeply, a sword strapped to the back, and then the child left. From then on, the days and nights only showed the man, over and over again, close to the tree, in the grass, during training. It seemed that years went by without anything changing. Rarely did other people come, never that child, sometimes obvious opponents, but never did they fight within Mihawk's field of vision.

Now the man sat in front of the roots again, facing the trunk.

"You're pretty strong," came an unfamiliar voice, again out of Mihawk's field of vision. "I saw you fight, that was impressive. Without you, I probably would have been a goner."

The man under the tree made no reply, did not move.

"Hmm... You don't seem to be a talker, do you?" The stranger laughed. "Not like that's necessary, your blade speaks for you. But I wonder why you stood up to them and protected me. I could be evil, and they could have rightly called me to account. Why did you stand by me?"

"They attacked even though you said you did not want to fight. If I had not intervened, they would have killed you."

"Maybe they had good reasons to kill me."

"There are no good reasons to kill."

The man under the tree had not moved, but at the edge of Mihawk's field of vision he could see something, little more than a shadow, a yellow splash perhaps, but it was difficult to make out.

"Is that the reason why you didn't kill them? Even though you made your life much more difficult that way?"

"If I can only win a fight by killing my opponent, then I am the one who was defeated."

The stranger at the edge of Mihawk's field of vision made a long, thoughtful sound, then laughed again.

"You're funny. I've never heard of a warrior like you. Most of them proudly announce how many have already fallen victim to their blade."

The man under the tree sighed, obviously slightly annoyed. "That may be because I am no warrior."

"Oh, so?"

"I am a guardian."

"Oh," the stranger reacted in a drawn-out manner, apparently knowing immediately what this meant. "I once met one of you." He laughed again, it was starting to get annoying. "Such a nice person and her food... hmmm... I begged her to come with me, because I would love to never eat anything else but her food, but no matter what I did, said, offered, she couldn't be convinced."

"Of course not," grumbled the man under the tree, no longer sounding quite as calm as if he was also quite annoyed. "It is the task of the guardians to protect their tree. As if Asora would betray her task just because some runaway asks her to."

"You knew immediately who I was talking about," the stranger laughed in amazement and took a few steps closer. Now Mihawk could clearly identify the yellow spot as a straw hat, not that he was surprised by it. "But you're different, aren't you? Different from Asora and the others?"

"I am a guardian," was all the man under the tree replied.

"Yes, but there's more than that to you, right?" the stranger grumbled, as if that were obvious. "I mean, everyone knows the old stories about the guardians and the bad omens. You never know what they'll appear as, whether it's a human, a cat, or a rose, but they're never a good sign. It is said that when all ten are gathered, the world will either end in chaos or a new age will dawn."

The man under the tree let out a frustrated sound, as if he had heard these stories too many times before.

"That is why you are here," he grumbled in a tone as if he regretted helping the stranger. "You have seen a guardian and now you travel to all the trees to find out how many guardians have already been born."

He sounded as if he had heard this often enough.

"No, what would be the point of that?" the stranger replied, putting his hands on his hips. "A daisy only needs a few days to sprout. So in case of doubt, I wouldn't even notice, even if I was standing directly opposite the guardian."

"Then why are you here? You want to tell me it is a coincidence that Asora first fed you on Jaya and now you are attacked in front of my eyes purely by chance?"

"You call it coincidence, I call it fate," said the stranger frivolously, whereupon the other only snorted.

"Why did these guys attack you in the first place?"

"Oh, they offered me food and drink and wanted me to pay for it afterwards, but I have no money. Poor as a raccoon dog, so I took to my heels and they chased after me."

The man under the tree turned around while sitting so that he could look at the stranger.

"You did a runner?"

"Well, what else should I have done?"

They seemed to just look at each other, then the man under the tree laughed loudly and it seemed as if the tree was laughing with him, so much did its leaves rustle, blocking Mihawk's view again and again.

"You're not angry that you helped a thief escape?" the stranger asked.

The man under the tree shook his head laughing, had leaned on one arm and pointed with the other in a sweeping movement to the place and the tree behind him.

"This is a place of protection and refuge. No one is turned away. And I will not allow anyone to die in this place, this is my duty. As a guardian."

The straw hat bobbed in the wind as the stranger tilted his head.

"That's strange," he said thoughtfully. "I thought the guardians' job was to guard their tree. But you say it's your job to protect everyone in this place?"

The man under the tree laughed again, it was a warm sound and again the small branches trembled, as if they heard this sound far too rarely.

"Oarnos is strong, even without my protection it could survive the tides."

"Then why are you guarding it?"

"Well, because I am the guardian."

"Huh? That sounds stupid. You say the tree doesn't need your protection, and you're only guarding it because you're the guardian? Why protect something that doesn't need protection?"

The man under the tree rose.

"Just because you are strong and can survive without outside protection does not mean you have to."

"Well, if you say that... Hey, where are you going?"

"The night is settling soon, and unlike others here, I have not eaten yet. So it is time to prepare dinner."

"Oh, cool! Can I join?"

Time passed faster. Mihawk watched as the guardian set a fire, watched by the stranger, who tried to help with the cooking, but was more of an obstacle. Nevertheless, he stayed through the night, eating, drinking, and laughing with the guardian. Early in the morning he left, and the guardian went back to his usual routine.

Again and again the Straw Hat appeared. His voice echoed over time that he had offered his labor in the inn to pay off his debts. Several days passed, the sun rose and set, the guardian trained, cut open his forearm or slept safely between the roots of the tree, the Straw Hat was sometimes there, seemed to ask questions, squatted in the grass, by the fireplace, on the roots. Their voices incomprehensible.

Then time slowed down again.

"What do you want again?" asked the man under the tree, obviously unnerved as he meditated facing the tree.

"I know now what's different about you," said the Straw Hat, out of sight for Mihawk. "It is said that the guardians are born when their trees need their protection. But your tree doesn't need your protection and you... You said you wouldn't let anyone die here, you protect this place, even though the tree doesn't need your protection. Does that mean... you're always here?"

The man under the tree made no reply.

"That sounds pretty lonely."

"I am not lonely."

"Because every few years a thief or a refugee gets lost here?"

"Yes, and because Oarnos is here."

"A tree that doesn't need you?" The Straw Hat exhaled in frustration. "That's just stupid. You are different from the other guardians, and you know it! You...!"

"Who says Oarnos doesn't need me?" He rose. "I just said it did not need my protection. But no, it is essential that I live."

"Why?"

Without turning around, the guardian walked towards the tree.

"What do you know about the trees?"

"They are the balance of the world," the Straw Hat replied with a matter-of-factness as if every child knew that. "When they bloom, the world blooms, when they wither, the world withers. When they die..."

"Yes, then the world will die." The guardian stopped between the roots on the trunk and turned to the Straw Hat out of Mihawk's sight. "The trees are a reflection of our world. But they are much more than that. They form the network of this world, all connected, every plant, every animal, they are all nourished from the trees, born, and when they die, they become the nutrient of the roots. An eternal cycle that preserves the balance of the world."

"And that's why all trees need a guardian, I know, everyone knows that."

"Yes, everyone knows that," the guardian repeated gently, almost as if his thoughts were far away.

"So?" the Straw Hat then asked when the guardian did not speak any further after several seconds. "Why are you forced to stay all alone in this place? Even though this tree doesn't need your protection?"

The guardian raised his head and Mihawk could have sworn that he was surprised to be addressed, but how he knew that, he could not tell, could not make out the facial features of the guardian.

"Do you also know that there were times when some trees died?"

"What?" came shocked from the Straw Hat.

"Mhm, succumbed to a disease, lumbered, destroyed."

"But this... but that would mean... Is our world already in chaos?"

"Currently? No, at the moment all the trees are safe."

"But...?"

The guardian laughed softly.

"There have always been and will always be times when a tree falls, when a guardian was born too late, died too early or is simply unable to protect the tree. That is how it has always been and that is how it always will be."

"That is... the trees are recovering?", the Straw Hat concluded. "When? How?"

"In time," the guardian replied and turned back to the tree. "As you said, the trees are all connected, a huge network inside this earth. As long as there is only one tree, the others will come back."

"And this one tree is this one?"

"Correct."

"So it just takes some time for them to grow again after they die?"

"Yes, time and... my blood." With these words, the guardian took his short sword and cut his forearm as a matter of course. As Mihawk had seen many times now. "Oarnos is my nature, and I am Oarnos' life."

They were silent while blood dripped to the ground and the wound eventually healed.

"What happens if you don't feed Oarnos?" the Straw Hat asked.

"Nothing," replied the guardian. "As long as the world is in balance and the trees support each other, Oarnos would flourish even without my strength."

"That means, the trees actually only need you when something has happened? To regenerate."

The guardian made no reply.

"Oh, now I understand. Oarnos is the tree of protection, isn't it? As long as it lives, the other trees cannot really die, and therefore it does not need its own protection, just as Asora's tree does not need nutrients. But Asora's job is not to nourish her tree, but to protect it. Just as it is the job of all guardians to protect their tree... but not yours." There was silence for a moment. "What is your job then? You can't tell me that all your destiny has in store for you is to provide nutrients for the trees."

"I am a guardian," the guardian growled now, obviously offended. "My job is to guard, to protect."

"But not the tree, right? It doesn't need your protection."

"I am Oarnos' guardian!" he repeated, turning around slowly, obviously threatening. "I am sword and shield, attack and defense, guardian and escort. There is no one who can keep up with me. It is my duty..."

"Why do the trees exist?" the Straw Hat simply asked, apparently not even wanting to reply to that. "It has been said they protect the world, they are the pillars of the world, is that true?"

The guardian took a deep breath.

"But if that's true, what are they protecting? Only the world or also all life? And if so, don't the guardians also protect all life by protecting the trees? And if that's the case, could it be that you as the guardian of a tree that doesn't need your protection... Maybe it's not your job to guard a single tree, to make a single place a refuge." Even the leaves were silent. "You say you're a guardian, a kind of tutelary god? But can't it be that this tree... When I asked you why you helped me, you said that it is your job to protect everyone here. Could it be that you don't..."

"Enough." The guardian, who had just been upset and angry, now sounded cold. "Every few years someone like that appears, someone like you. All of them with their oh-so-clever thoughts and sayings. Those who want to find all the guardians, or all the trees, or all the secrets, or whatever. You are all the same. But you, you're pretty outrageous. We guardians give our lives to fulfill our task. Not because we were born to do so, but because we consciously decide to accept this burden. You just called me a tutelary god, then understand your words as blasphemy."

"I didn't mean to offend you," the Straw Hat replied defiantly, stepping into Mihawk's field of vision. "I was just wondering whether maybe the whole world needs your protection and not just a tree that doesn't need your protection. And then I wondered how you are going to accomplish this inhumanly unfair task if you are always just... here."

The guardian made no reply.

"Be that as it may, I don't really think much of all these tasks and so on anyway, I'll never understand why I should do something just because others expect it from me. And can it even be your free decision if everyone else takes it for granted?" He was silent for a moment, as if waiting for an answer, but none came, and so the Straw Hat only sighed. "Sorry. I didn't really come here to argue with you — certainly not to offend you — but because I... I've paid my debt and now I'm going to travel on, and I... I wanted to ask you if you would like to accompany me."

The guardian snorted angrily.

"After trying unsuccessfully to ensnare Asora, do you now think that I would rather follow you?"

"No, I'm not asking you to follow me. I... You don't have to accompany me or anything. But I feel like you've locked yourself up here, tied to a task that someone has imposed on you, with no real meaning, and I think... Don't you sometimes have the feeling that there could be more? Must be more? Is it really okay for you to live so unfulfilled? To protect a tree that doesn't need that, to give your blood that no one needs. Is that really enough for you? To stay here and wait for disaster to strike at some point? Wouldn't you much rather be out there to act, to see the world you're protecting?" The Straw Hat stepped out of sight. "Anyway, it's your decision, and if you're happy here, then I didn't say anything. Farewell."

The guardian turned to the tree.

"And what is your goal?" he asked aloud, without turning to the Straw Hat. "Where will your onward journey take you? What is the path you want to take?"

The Straw Hat laughed wildly. "Me? I want to see the world of course, experience adventures, get to know people and... so much more that I still can't put into words."

"With your naïve nature, you will die soon."

The Straw Hat laughed again. "That may well be the case, but what is a life for which you don't risk death?"

Dusk set in and time seemed to pass faster again, even if the guardian did not move, he probably stood there all night and in the morning he went in the direction where Mihawk assumed his lodgings. But he did not come back. Time flowed faster now, rain, sun, night, autumn, winter, spring, but the guardian did not come back, and the tree blossomed in all its glory.

Mihawk wondered what else the tree wanted to show him, after all, he had now seen what he should have seen. The beginnings, if that was what they had been. But just as he was about to get bored, time slowed down again, and two black heads appeared in his field of vision.

"What do you want here? This tree is scary. Nobody gets too close," one of them asked. "And you heard what people said. The guardian hasn't been here for a long time, years or so. He has gone on a journey. Tze, a guardian on a journey, have you heard of something like that before."

"I know. But did you know that the roots of this tree are the cradle of my people. We once came from here, even if no one can remember why we left." Mihawk recognized the voice at once, it was the child the guardian had once taught. "For years I have lived under these leaves and mastered the art of the sword. I wanted to see it again before we left."

"Are you sure you want to find this guardian?"

"Yes, it is time for me to finally challenge him."

Sighing heavily, the companion put his hands on his sides. "Well, then pay your respects and let's go. Though I think I'll soon regret this."

Now time was really racing, years, no decades seemed to go by. At the edge of his field of vision, something seemed to change, working people and at some point, he could make out the lower steps of the stairs that he probably had descended in his time. The castle was probably built sometime in this immeasurable period of time. Again and again people appeared, among them the child, the guardian, the Straw Hat, and others, again and again and then the tree was alone again. This seemed to repeat itself for years and then suddenly.

"They're coming."

"Indeed."

The Straw Hat was sitting on a branch, looking down at the guardian, who, as so often, was standing at the bottom between the roots. Then the guardian looked up at the Straw Hat and for the first time ever, Mihawk could see his face very clearly, even though he was so far away.

"I wish you would not be against fighting them. You know I could defeat them."

"Of course," replied the Straw Hat, dangling his legs. "Of course you would defeat them all, but I ask you not to fight them. Despite everything, they are our allies, our friends. I don't want you to have to stain your hands with the blood of our friends."

The mischievousness of the last conversation with him at this tree was missing, the naivety was missing, but otherwise it sounded exactly as it did then, as if only a few days had passed.

Just like the guardian who now grumbled deeply: "If I had to, I would do it. I have chosen to protect you, no matter who or what I have to sacrifice for that."

"I knew you were going to say that, and I know you would," the Straw Hat agreed, "and that's why I command you not to fight them. I am sorry I have to give you this order. I hope you can forgive me."

"You shouldn't apologize to me. As you know, it is my decision to serve you, my King," the guardian spoke with pride and determination in his voice that impressed Mihawk and was very familiar to him.

"And as I know, you have always made odd decisions; it would be wiser for you to join them. If you stood against me, you could save your people, Oarnos, and your own life. You know Alciel will fall if you die today." The Straw Hat, on the other hand, sounded wistful, almost tired, a bit defiant, like a child before going to bed, which did not fit at all with these significant words.

"Alciel will not fall, not as long as my blood flows and you also know that I would never stand against you. I decided back then to follow you, and I make that decision every second anew, and if this means my death, then I choose to die; after all, I decide my fate."

With these words, the guardian leaned against the trunk of the tree, drew his sword, and bent down. As so often, he tore open his own forearm and blood poured out of the wound, down his wrist, dripping to the ground. After a few seconds, the guardian straightened up again and placed the hand of the injured arm against the mighty trunk, while blood continued to slide to the ground. Within two breaths, the wound healed, and the guardian took his hand away from the trunk, rubbed his forearm, on which only blood remained, but the wound itself was nothing more than an already fading shadow.

"You have been faithful by my side for all these years," the Straw Hat continued to speak like an old man, which sounded so contradictory to his childish tone. "I want to send you away, you don't deserve this ending, not like that, not today. This world needs you; you are free to go, you should go."

"This world will face dark times when you are no longer here, my King, and I doubt that I alone could change that."

"Hmm," replied the other. "Did you at least inform the others about your decision? Who knows how long Oarnos can last without you, and as soon as you fall, the other guardians will also be vulnerable. You should at least inform them of this fate."

"Oarnos is strong, even without my blood and my protection, it will endure the seasons," the guardian disagreed. "But I have informed Nicoa and Soroa, they will warn the others."

"That's good," said the Straw Hat. "Oarnos may be strong enough to survive without guardian, but the other trees may not. I can hardly imagine what could become of this world if even one of them were to be destroyed."

The guardian sighed. "Trust the other guardians as you trust me, my King. Even if you and I are no longer, they will protect the trees and this world." But somehow Mihawk did not quite believe his words. He knew better, of course, but he was also sure that the guardian himself knew better as well, and probably the Straw Hat knew better, too.

He laughed softly: "But didn't you decide to come with me? Who knows, maybe one day the others will also get tired of their task."

"You are quite bold, my King," the guardian replied coolly. "Don't let any of the other guardians hear that. They are very proud of their life's work to protect the trees and the world; they wouldn't just give it up out of a gut feeling."

"But you did come along out of a gut feeling," the other objected again with a laugh, "and no one is as proud as you."

"Yes, that is true," the guardian admitted. "I was so proud that I didn't even notice the chains that held me until you freed me off them. Oarnos may be my nature, but it never needed a guardian. You have shown me this freedom, so I have decided to accompany you on your way. I have decided that it should be my life's work to protect you, even if it may cost my life."

"Could you please stop pretending like it's a great thing to kick the bucket for me?" the other grumbled, obviously frustrated, and Mihawk could see the guardian's broad grin as he looked up at his king. "I never asked you to do it. All I wanted was to show you that you are more than a guardian."

"Yes, and you did. You gave me the freedom to be so much more. But still, I am and will always be a guardian, don't forget that, and it's my decision who I want to protect and what I'm willing to give." He sighed and lowered his gaze back to the roots. "Death does not scare me, but I am proud to follow you, my King."

Mihawk knew what this conversation was leading to. Roronoa's tales may have been only rough summaries, but the parallels were unmistakable. Rather, he wondered why the tree now wanted to show him what their ancestors had done.

"If I ordered you to leave, right now, to never turn around for me again, would you follow that command as well?"

"Command it and see for yourself."

For a moment, only the rustling of the leaves could be heard.

"I'm sorry." The Straw Hat climbed somewhat awkwardly from his branch and slid down the trunk of the tree like a slide and remained sitting on a hole right next to the guardian's shoulder, like an overgrown bird peeking out of its knothole. "It is not just what I am asking of you. But I can only hope that you understand me."

"Whether just or not, you demand nothing of me, my King. You are not the one who wants to shed blood today."

The Straw Hat sighed. "We both knew it had to happen, sooner or later. Don't blame them for their actions. It was predestined for them, just as this path was predestined for us."

"They have made their decision, they will have to bear the consequences, just like all of us."

So they were there and seemed to be waiting, while the Straw Hat beat an irregular beat against the trunk with his feet.

"Today it is very quiet," he said after a few minutes, as if the silence was unbearable for him. "The world will be very loud when you and I leave."

"It will be, but you've never liked silence." The guardian sounded calm, content, seemed to have accepted his fate.

The Straw Hat laughed softly: "That's right." Then he slightly hit his knee against the guardian's upper arm. "What adventures do you think awaits this world? What will they experience? Do you think they will have fun? Our last adventure happened so long ago. It's really time for some new ones."

"Who knows. Who knows how the world will change in the meantime. But I'm looking forward to this time, I'm looking forward to a life full of adventures."

A sound, like the creaking of a huge gate, interrupted their conversation, and the guardian looked up, but the Straw Hat continued to look down at his guardian.

"Guardian!" roared an unfamiliar voice, out of sight for Mihawk, but he knew who had come, who must have come. The traitors. But something was odd, he could not say what, but he had the feeling that the words sounded different, but with the next words he decided to ignore it for the time being. "Get ready. We have come to overthrow your king."

The guardian sighed heavily, as if he were carrying a weariness of a hundred lives, then pushed himself off and took three steps towards the newcomers.

"Our King," he said clearly, neither angry nor lecturing. "Each of us once decided to follow him, even if you may have forgotten that over all this time."

"Well now is the time for this king to step down, haven't you understood that yet?" some woman objected. The guardian shook his head and let out another deep, regretful sigh. "Join us! You don't have to die a useless death today. Break your oath, do what we did. We can be free again, all of us, like the others who never answered the call. You are not obliged to this tyrant. Come to our side, we are strong. Let us build a new kingdom together."

"No," the guardian replied simply, while the Straw Hat stayed silent, just sat there and listened to them as if they were not talking about his life as well, "if this is to be a choice between death and betrayal, then I choose death."

"That's not necessary," said another voice. All the traitors seemed to be there, even if Mihawk could not see much more than a few blurred silhouettes, as they stood at the edge of his field of vision at the bottom of the stairs. "None of us would want to kill another wanderer; there are already so few of us left. You are not only beholden to this king. What about Oarnos? What about your people? When was the last time you were in your home country? Do you know that the world has come to despise Alciel? The new king of your country seems mad, you should stop him and take your rightful place before he does something thoughtless, instead you play the nurse of this madman."

"Enough is enough." The guardian took another step forward and now he sounded not calm, but angry. "This conversation is useless, your words senseless. My place is not on Alciel's throne, it never was. My place is also not with Oarnos. I am exactly where I have to be; next to the King to whom I have sworn my allegiance, to whom you too have sworn your allegiance."

"And that was a long, long time ago," someone objected. "We answered the call because we all thought this was the way to go. But we sacrificed everything, so many lifetimes and so much freedom. We are tired of it, but we cannot turn back time, undo what has happened. But we can change the present and that's why we now want to regain our freedom, regain our power."

"That's really what you're all about," the guardian replied almost soberly, "your thoughts seem confused when you talk about freedom but mean power, and that's why I don't understand your words. Everything I did in my life, I did of my own free will, and I have never regretted it. Back then, very, very long ago, I decided to follow my King, and I make that decision again every second of my life. I don't have to regain my freedom because I never gave it away. I stand here voluntarily, and I have made all my decisions of my own volition. Our King never forced me to do anything. I have received only one order in all the time I have been following him, and that is not to fight you today."

No one replied, soft whispers could be heard, as if the guardian had shaken the irrevocable decision of the traitors. But Mihawk knew that this would not stop them, after all, he knew the end of this story.

"Are you disappointed now?" the guardian continued. "Was that what you were hoping for? To fall today fighting me? To die for the dream of freedom whose reality you are afraid of? Did you come here today because you knew that the break of your oath is unforgivable? Is that the reason why you sought us out here of all places? Because you know that from now on you will wander in the dark again and death would be more gracious to you. Did you come in the hope that I would save you from the fate of your own decisions?"

"Ridiculous!"

"Well, if you have not come to die, then you know for sure what you will have to do now." By now the guardian sounded calm again, but not peaceful, no, it was the murderous calm of a predator. "If you have come here to murder our King, then you should kill me first, because with his death I will not only have failed in my task as a guardian. If my King falls before me, his command will fall as well. So I advise you to kill me first."

With these words, he got down on his knees and took the simple weapon from his belt with which he had just injured himself few minutes. And although Mihawk knew what had to happen, he was filled with unease, which was so strange, given how indifferent he had always been towards the lives of others.

"You demand that we kill one of our own?"

Again he could hear soft whispers from the traitors, barely over the rustling of the leaves.

"I'm not demanding anything," replied the guardian. "But if you want to force me to take a side, I'd rather die as guardian than to live on as wanderer."

This time the voices were louder. While some traitors whispered, others urged the guardian not to die a senseless death. For minutes this disagreement seemed to last, but then a person came into Mihawk's field of vision and of course he recognized this black hair immediately, had known it before.

The once disgraced child of the Dracule family walked towards the guardian.

"Please, do not do that. Please do not die here today."

"Then retreat," the guardian replied, unimpressed.

"We cannot do that."

"Then kill me."

"I cannot do that."

"Come on! Go ahead," one of the others roared, but no one else stepped forward, no one stepped into Mihawk's field of vision. It was still only the guardian, the child, and, almost forgotten on the tree, the Straw Hat.

"Do not ask me to do that. Kill another wanderer; you will seal our fate for all time!"

"Your fate is your decision, and you can make it freely, but mine has already been made."

"With your decision you take away my choice," said the child and it was no longer a simple reproach, but pure desperation, "your decision will bind my fate forever, is this what you want?"

"Isn't that what you want?"

"Do not force me to shed your blood. It will be on my hands for all time."

"You are the only one I allow to kill me, to whom I want to impose this burden, here in this place. Soak this soil one last time with my blood."

In silence, the child lowered the gaze while the others whispered in the background, but Mihawk knew it would happen, of course it would.

"But before that, I have one more request to you, for the time we called ourselves friends," the guardian now turned to the others. "Without my blood, Oarnos will soon wither. If you have ever seen me as one of yours, I ask you not to disturb Oarno's sleep, let it live. Your hatred is not for the trees, not for the world, is it?"

"We are not monsters," said the one who had spoken first, "even if time may one day present us as such. We will respect your last wish, guardian. Even if you decided against our side "

"Be certain of my gratitude." But now the guardian looked again at the child he had once trained, which had long since grown up, and now slowly looked up as well, almost trembling and drew a sword and then pointed it at the guardian. Mihawk wished he could lean closer, curious what kind of sword it was, but he was too far away.

"Say farewell to your King."

As peaceful as the guardian had sounded, the child sounded shattered now. The Straw Hat jumped down from the tree and walked to the guardian, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I will search for you; your voice shall be my guidance."

The guardian did not look up, still seemed to be looking at the child in front of him.

"I will call for you, my King, I will always call for you."

"Then I will hear you. No matter how much time passes, I will find you and help you to remove your chains once again."

"And I will follow you again, my friend."

It was a single stroke of the sword, elegant and flawless, and the guardian was dead.

The child from that time screamed, fell down next to the guardian's body and cried. For a few seconds, even the leaves seemed to be silent, while the lamentation echoed across the land.

Then one of the traitors spoke up: "Pull yourself together, it was his decision, and now..."

"That will not be necessary," said the Straw Hat with a gentleness in his voice that wanted to tell the lie to the scene. He bent down and took the guardian's short sword before rising again.

"Do you want to fight?" asked one of the others.

"A pointless fight? Oh no. I couldn't bear to kill even one of you." Mihawk was sure he was smiling, he sounded so warm, so warm and wistful. "I will not impose this burden on any of you and I will not allow any of you to kill me. Otherwise, he would forever blame himself of having failed, I can't do that to him." He nodded down to the dead guardian, next to whom the child of that time was still kneeling, on the blood-soaked earth, still filling the silence with this wordless lament. The Straw Hat walked up and laid a hand on the shoulder of the child from back then, probably a comforting gesture.

"But thinking of our mutual friend, don't let it be this place. Since the beginning of history, only the blood of one has been spilled here, please let's not change that today. This has always been a place of protection and refuge, let us not pollute it with our strife."

The traitors answered something, but he did not understand what anymore when time rushed forward again and they left. When the sun went down, the child from back then came back. With heavy hands bringing wood, more and more, and stacking it on the fireplace, which was actually much too small for that. More wood, and even more, to the meadow next to the fireplace. Then the child from back then went over to the body, spoke words that Mihawk could not hear, made motions he could not see, then lifted the body, laid it on the wooden bed in a gesture of loving tenderness, stood by it for an eternity without letting go of the body.

Then at some point the wood burned and the child from back then sat in front of it, adding wood again and again. Ash and smoke rose in the darkness of the night, danced among the leaves, and sped away.

Time passed, the sun rose, the fire went out, the funeral was over, the fireplace lay fallow as before. But the child from back then stayed. Again and again other people appeared, seemed to talk to the child from back then, with urgent, wide gestures, presumably the other traitors. But again and again they left, probably unsuccessful in what they wanted to achieve. And the child from back then stayed.

Like the guardian back then, the same rituals, the same routines, only not once blood flowed and the calm was no longer gentle and free, but heavy and anxious. The other traitors came less often, at some point no one came, even after many changes of seasons. Only once did the child from back then disappear from Mihawk's field of vision in a direction other than where the shelter probably was, but the child from back then returned, holding a tiny brown creature, and carried it over to the shelter. One of the legs seemed strangely twisted, obviously broken. It was a bear cub.

With the seasons the bear cub grew bigger and stronger, grew up, the injury had long since healed, and wherever the child from back then was, the bear was not far away, usually sleeping, sometimes watching, peacefully between the roots of the tree.

And then

"What are you doing here? Are you acting as a guardian? Don't make me laugh." A mop of white hair appeared.

"And you are?" asked the child from back then, the voice leaden and heavy, as if brittle with age, and sat there, as the guardian had used to do, facing the tree.

"My name is unimportant."

"A name is never unimportant."

"Tze, that can only come from a Dracule. What is a wanderer like you doing here? Shouldn't you... well, wander?" There was obvious mockery in every word, contempt, scorn.

"There is no reason. This world has nothing more to offer me," said the child from back then, tired.

"You mean, after you've doomed this world. You and the other wanderers who believed they had to interfere in the fate of the world. It was peaceful, not perfect, but harmonious, and then you had to... If only you had remained insignificant, silent witnesses of the time, as it was predestined for you. But no, you had to follow a... human, and succumbed to megalomania."

The child from back then sighed. "You and I are nothing more than human beings as well."

"No! We are chosen! We..."

"Yes, I once thought so, too. Chosen, special, and see where it has taken me. We thought he was a messiah, he was our savior, the ruler of the world. And then we felt betrayed when he wasn't, a simple person and yet so much more. Maybe we wanted more than what we were meant for. But isn't that what makes us human? To defy our nature and still fulfill it." The child from back then stood up and looked at the stranger. "You're a guardian, aren't you? But you still seem young and inexperienced. Time will teach you that your task is a burden that should be borne with humility, not pride, or you will end up like me. Like us."

"I don't need to be lectured by someone like you! You have..."

"I know what I have done, and I know this hatred you are showing me. But what about you, guardian? What are you doing so far away from your tree? Do you want to take revenge? Are you putting it in danger for such useless human emotions?"

"I wish that's why I am here," the guardian growled with open hostility. "But no, my tree is safe. The people under its protection guard and care for it, and I try to limit the calamity that you and your... accomplices have caused."

"In everything we have done, we have not once harmed a tree, we have not threatened a guardian. It was all about... Freedom. Of the chains we have put on ourselves."

"And your freedom has made the trees more vulnerable than ever before! With the death of..."

"I am tired, guardian. So say what you want from me, or leave."

"From you?" The guardian snorted indignantly. "As if I wanted something from you, you wannabe guardian. No, I'm here because of her." He nodded over to the bear.

"Why?" the child from back then asked suspiciously.

"Oh, don't you know whom you offer shelter? I can't believe it."

"She is a guardian?" There was actually no question. "Then why is she here? Why are two guardians not with their trees?"

"Oh, still that lecturing tone, as if you weren't the one to blame for all this. How many lives have you traveled alongside Oarnos' guardian? And how many lives have you taken from him?" The guardian stepped closer to the roots, but when he spoke, for the first time he no longer sounded angry or aggressive, but matter-of-fact, calm, perhaps a little anxious. "How long have you been hiding here, under Oarnos' protection and kindness? Are you not aware of what has happened in the world out there since the death of that king? The order of the world is falling apart. Things that were given are no longer given. Old races are falling, new ones are emerging, natural phenomena that no one has ever seen before. Wanderers who do not return, and guardians who... don't know." Now sheer horror echoed in these words. "The chaos has begun, and we can no longer stop it. Soon nothing will be the same as we have known it so far. Who knows, maybe soon there will be no wanderers at all... or guardians. Perhaps he will never come again, the one whom you called king."

The bear got up and came over to the guardian, nestling her neck on the guardian's shoulder as if to comfort him.

"Prunos is no more, lumbered by humans. I am looking for its guardian, but without success. I thought I'd find him here. I hoped he had found refuge here after he had nowhere to return. But instead, I find her here. Here and not with Eva. Maybe she doesn't even remember that she has a place, a task. But her instincts have brought her here, to the one place where she can find shelter. It's terrible. The guardians don't always know everything, but most of them remember what their task is. But apparently even this is lost in the chaos that ensues."

"And you are here to get her now?" the child from back then asked coldly, but under the false objectivity there was a horror, ignored the other words of the guardian as if they held on importance.

"Originally no, as I said, I'm looking for Prunos' guardian. The old order no longer exists, guardians are no longer born by their trees, if at all. And now that Prunos is gone, diseases are coming, and the other trees will be even more vulnerable." The guardian scratched the bear between the ears. "This world will face dark times before chaos turns into a new order, and only then will the trees recover."

"I know," whispered the child from back then, "and that is why I have no choice but to stay here. Because as long as Oarnos exists, there is still hope."

"But that's why I have to take her with me, you know? The task of us guardians is more important than ever. We need to make sure that as few trees as possible fall victim to chaos, otherwise the unthinkable could happen if they all fall."

"If your task still is to actually guard the trees," the child from back then murmured softly before sighing. "Which guardian are you, tell me?"

"From the tree of omniscience."

"Of course, so self-explanatory. That means Nicoa died, and a new guardian was born right away." The child from back then tilted the head slightly back and forth. "How strange, we wanderers are reborn with death, but you guardians only see the light of day when you are needed."

The guardian took a deep breath.

"Does it really surprise you? You must have been here for many years if you don't know what's going on, how long my predecessor has been dead. It is true that you wanderers may be reborn with death, we guardians when we are needed, but he, no one knows when he will be born again, and until he returns, no new order will come, and we will live in chaos."

"I do not care," said the child from back then. "What do I care about a king without a crown? Let him sleep for a century, millennia. What does it matter to me who he will be, whether he will be. If the world is to end in chaos, I do not care. Because we wanderers are reborn with death and that is all that matters."

"That's true, but aren't the likes of you committed to a bloodline? Those of you, who made that oath?" The child from back then looked up when the guardian spoke condescendingly again. "You really don't know, do you? Alciel has fallen, you wannabe Dracule. Your confidants have incited the whole world, even the young king himself, against your people. They are all dead. The old king was murdered, the old queen disappeared. The old bloodline is no more."

"No..."

"Yes, it happened before I was born. How long do you think you've been waiting here? And he still hasn't come back. He left us, he probably went on, into the further on."

"No, he would not do that."

"Would he not? After he was betrayed by his peers? Well, maybe he's waiting for the return of his king, a king you murdered. In any case, he is not here, and that means his blood is not here to preserve the trees. That's why I have to find the other guardians and take them to their trees. This is the only way we can prevent worse."

For a moment only the rustling of the leaves could be heard.

"Then leave," said the child from back then, tonelessly, with a casual hand gesture, and turned back to the tree.

"He won't come back. You killed him and yet he didn't come back, even though he should have been reborn with death," the guardian insisted energetically, as if hoping for a reaction, any reaction. "That allows only one conclusion. He must have gone further, behind the gates, and that's why..."

"Then that is the way it is," the child from back then replied in a tired voice. "That does not change anything. I took away his task and I will shoulder it until he comes back. I swore that. You can go, guardian, find the others, help them remember, or whatever you consider your task, but do not worry about Oarnos. Because Oarnos will never fall, I will see to that, no matter how many lives it takes."

"As you like. Waste your life and protect a tree that doesn't need your protection. But don't think that this makes you a guardian. You have taken great guilt upon yourself, Dracule." The guardian turned to leave, the bear followed him, looking back again and again for the child from back then. "And you will face lonely times. Perhaps this is your punishment for what you have done, waiting here forever, alone, senseless and purposeless, to atone for your guilt by shouldering this task that was never yours and that can never pardon you. For he is gone, and he will not come again."

With that the guardian left, but his last words echoed between the leaves, like the whispers of children.

He will not come back.

He will not come back.

He will not come back.

He will come back.

He will not come back.

Now time rushed by, showing again and again the child from back then, mostly alone, but at some point, no longer alone, bringing small children with equally black hair, lifting them towards the tree.

Time passed, the children grew older, played between the roots, while the child from back then sat where the guardian had once sat. The children grew up, came less often, but always from time to time, and at some point, brought their own children with them, all with black hair.

And at some point, the child from back then died, unnoticed, leaning against the roots, simply falling asleep, while white and green spring leaves rained down and covered the black hair.

It was not until the next morning that the body was found and carried away. But this time the tree did not stay alone for long, as the children kept coming with their own children, and they also grew up. At some point, the surroundings at the edge of his field of vision changed, first it was a fence, then a low wall, later a high one, then he could no longer make out the end.

Again and again people with black hair came, at the beginning many and often, over time less, the clothes changed over time, first it had been stiff collars that grew higher and higher and at some point had been replaced by glass, simple robes of first elaborate colorful fabrics, then extravagant white robes with eccentric splashes of color. The lower steps of the staircase, which he had been able to see, had meanwhile disappeared behind a stone wall, the sunlight that had once refracted in the thousands and thousands of leaves now seemed dull and far away. The tree itself seemed to bear fewer leaves, of a pale green, sometimes yellowish. At first, he thought the light was getting darker and darker, then he realized that his field of vision was shrinking, as if the tree was slowly closing its eyes.

So time went on and the black-haired people came more and more sporadically. Soon Mihawk could make out that it was usually always the same person, from childhood to adulthood, bent over by age, and then the next child came. Sometimes a second person came, usually to fetch the other.

"Yakumo," a voice echoed and the boy, who was sitting there at the roots of the tree and reading a book, looked up. "What are you doing down here?"

"I'm reading."

"Here? Are you crazy? You know what the old ones say. This place here is cursed and if you're down here too long, you'll go insane. You know the story of Aunt Taruchie, who wanted to leave Marijoas and threw herself down the Red Line when grandfather forbade it. No Dracule should be down here longer than necessary. And there's no reason to be down here. Nothing ever happens here."

"I like being down here, it's quiet, you can read in peace, and no one comes to look for you," the boy replied.

"Except me. Now come on, we have lessons, and don't tell anyone. Mother will get mad when she finds out."

With a sigh the boy got up and left, the small field of vision became darker and darker and at some point, there was nothing, nothing at all, darkness, blackness, silence, "Oarnos!"

It was like a slight flickering that slid through the tree, but it remained dark.

"I am sorry, Oarnos! But I must go! I know the truth, and if the Elders find out, I will be killed like aunt Taruchie. I am sorry! So sorry!" The man sounded rushed, as if he were really on the run. "But I promise I won't let you down. I will come back, I promise, someday, and then I'll set you free. They won't hurt you. Even the Elders know how important you are, and the ancestors have sworn to let you be."

It sounded as if Dracule Yakumo wanted to say something before he interrupted himself.

"The time will come, Oarnos, I am sure the guardian will return. And when that time is there, I will come back too, Oarnos. But... if it should be after my time, show it to my descendants. Show them the truth, in case I can't." Again there was some hesitation. "My descendant. Whoever you may be. You know what you have to do. Fulfill your duty and free Oarnos."

"Mihawk!"

Suddenly he was back, staring at Shanks, who had grabbed him by the shoulder and was staring back, pale as chalk.

"What the hell is going on?"

He looked at him, then he looked to the side, his hand still on Oarnos, but the black dead stone layer had given way under his hand. Like loose earth, the petrified bark had receded to the side under his hand, his hand had sunken in deep, almost a forearm deep and life pulsated under his fingers.

"Mihwak!" Shanks repeated with insistence, but his voice was far away.

As if in a trance, Mihawk turned his gaze to the tree and let his haki flow into it, deep into it, trembling under the energy that flowed through his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Shanks said, but Mihawk barely heard him.

He closed his eyes.

"Be free."

And then the black stone shattered, like a firework of glittering darkness.