Looking at the young man before him whose eyes had lost all luster yet who still stood firmly, Tatsuki felt a sudden urge to play.
"Why not retreat?"
Mihawk's figure swayed violently, yet he refused to fall. He looked up at the insurmountable mountain before him, his voice hoarse. "I don't know either. I just feel..."
He grinned, revealing a smile more painful than crying, as blood seeped from the corner of his lips. "If I take even a single step back here, I will never be able to become the World's Greatest Great Swordsman."
He slowly spread his arms, exposing his entire chest to the enemy without any defense.
"A wound on the back is a swordsman's shame."
"Come!"
Seeing this young man who would rather die than retreat, the cigar in Tatsuki's mouth twitched slightly.
Indeed, the brain circuits of creatures like swordsmen really were straight lines to the end.
He was silent for a moment, and then, that malicious smile, like he had discovered a new toy, appeared on his face again.
"Kid, I'll remember you."
Tatsuki put away the nail clipper and slowly gripped the hilt of Tensa Zangetsu at his waist, which had never been drawn.
"As a reward for your courage, I shall use this world's strongest black blade to see you off."
Mihawk looked at the hand that finally gripped the hilt, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.
He had done it.
He had finally forced this man to acknowledge him.
Mihawk closed his eyes, calmly waiting for death.
Tatsuki's wrist moved slightly and the black blade was drawn half an inch.
Just this leaked trace of aura instantly sliced the pouring rain in two, and even the dark clouds overhead were torn open with a massive gap.
"Don't be in such a hurry to die, kid."
Clang!
It was the sound of a blade returning to its scabbard.
Tatsuki hadn't even fully unsheathed Tensa Zangetsu. He merely let that deep blackness catch a glimpse of the world before sealing it back into its sheath.
What did he do?
No one saw clearly.
Even the future powerhouses below the platform, who prided themselves on their superior dynamic vision, only felt a blur before their eyes.
Immediately following—
Pfft!
A line of blood burst open on Mihawk's chest without warning. It was a slash wound that cut diagonally from his left shoulder to his right abdomen, deep enough to see bone, nearly splitting him in two.
"Ugh..."
Mihawk didn't even have time to scream, he was sent flying backward as if hit head-on by a speeding train.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He smashed through three layers of the Execution Platform's railings, wood chips flying everywhere, before finally slamming heavily onto the rain-slicked stone floor in the center of the square.
The entire square fell silent.
Only the sound of raindrops hitting the ground and the uncontrollable sound of Mihawk coughing up blood from his throat remained.
The strange grin on Doflamingo's face vanished. Cold sweat slid down his temples, soaking his flashy sunglasses.
He couldn't see it at all.
In the face of that strike, his innate kingly disposition only sensed a shudder originating from the deepest depths of his soul.
If that strike had been aimed at him...
No, it wouldn't have made any difference.
On the other side, Crocodile stared fixedly at Tatsuki, and for the first time, a clear emotion called "fear" emerged in the depths of those gloomy eyes.
'Is this the power that suppresses the seas in this chaotic era?'
...
"Tsk, youngsters these days, their bodies are still too weak."
On the Execution Platform, Tatsuki picked his ear and shook his head with a look of disappointment.
"I only used less than ten percent of my strength, and he's already down?"
The surrounding Marines' lips twitched wildly, but they kept their heads down, not daring to respond.
You call a slash that can split the clouds "less than ten percent strength"? Are you trying to level all of Loguetown?
In the center of the square.
Mihawk lay in a pool of blood, the cold rain mercilessly washing over his burning wound.
Pain.
Heart-wrenching pain.
But more painful than the physical body was the collapse of his conviction.
Lost.
Utterly defeated.
From drawing his sword to defeat, it hadn't even been five minutes.
The swordsmanship he had gambled everything on and took pride in was as fragile as a three-year-old's casual scribbles in front of that man.
Just when everyone thought this arrogant young man would faint right then and there, a trembling hand covered in calluses that refused to let go of the hilt even if he lost consciousness, tightly gripped Yoru stuck nearby.
Crack... Crack...
Amidst the sound of collective gasps, Mihawk used his blade as a crutch. Covered in blood and staggering, he stood up again. He stood unsteadily, like a candle in the wind that could go out at any moment.
He raised his head. Those golden pupils, originally sharp as a hawk's, were somewhat unfocused now, yet they still locked onto the man on the high platform.
"It's not... over yet."
His voice was hoarse, mixed with blood foam in his throat.
"As long as I don't die... one day... I will surpass you."
A commotion broke out in the surrounding crowd.
"Is this kid crazy?"
"He still dares to talk tough in this state?"
"He really doesn't want to live."
However, Tatsuki, on the high platform, was amused. He blew out a smoke ring, looking at the swaying yet unyielding figure, the gears in his mind turning rapidly.
This kind of single-minded sword fanatic.
This kind of top-tier talent with nothing but becoming stronger in his head.
He was simply perfect tool man material.
If he didn't squeeze out every last drop of value, Tatsuki felt he would be doing a disservice to the "Justice" coat on his back.
"Surpass me?"
Tatsuki shifted to a more comfortable sitting position, slowly lighting a new cigar, his tone carrying a hint of seductive persuasion.
"You felt it too, didn't you? That despairing gap."
"By bumping around the sea like a headless fly on your own, practicing with third-rate pirates, how many years will it take to catch up to my back?"
"Ten years? Twenty years? Or perhaps, a lifetime?"
Mihawk fell silent.
Although he was very unwilling, he knew the other party was telling the truth. It was a chasm of strength like a natural moat, not something that could be filled by working behind closed doors with a surge of hot blood.
"Although I am very busy, I have always been very tolerant toward promising young people."
Tatsuki flicked the ash, revealing his true intentions with a "kind" smile on his face.
"Do you want to be able to see the highest peak of swordsmanship every day?"
Mihawk nodded subconsciously.
"Do you want to have the chance to challenge me every day, or even observe my swordsmanship at any time?"
Mihawk nodded again, a hint of desire appearing in his eyes.
"Then that's it." Tatsuki slapped his thigh. "Come be a Marine."
"..."
"Huh?"
Become a Marine?
You cut the guy half to death and then tell him to become a Marine?
Tatsuki ignored everyone's bewilderment and began to talk nonsense with a straight face, "Think about it, what kind of place is Marineford? It's a concentration camp for monsters on the sea."
"If you join, I'm at the G-5 Branch every day. You can come find me to get be... cough, spar whenever you're free."
"If you get tired of fighting me, there's also a guy named Garp at the headquarters whose fists are as hard as iron. There's a teacher named Zephyr whose taijutsu is superb."
"There's also a wretched Glint Man. Although his swordsmanship is a hundred thousand miles worse than mine, he's more than enough to be a sparring partner for you."
At this point, Tatsuki leaned forward, lowered his voice, and threw out the finisher. "Most importantly, to defeat a monster, you must first understand the monster and integrate with the monster. Only by standing in the place closest to me can you see the trajectory of my blade clearly, right?"
"Besides, it includes room and board, a stable salary, five insurances and one housing fund, and the Marines will cover for you if you cut someone in the future. Where else can you find such a good job?"
Mihawk completely crashed. His brain was rendered blank by this sudden flood of information.
Becoming a Marine means being able to challenge this man every day? And being able to fight other strong people?
There's such a good thing?
A swordsman's thinking is sometimes just that simple and pure. To him, treasure, fame, and power were not as important as a good sword and a good opponent.
And now, an opportunity that would allow him to climb to the peak at the fastest speed, was laid out nakedly before him.
As for Marine rules? Discipline?
What are those? Can they help me become stronger?
"I..." Mihawk's Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke with difficulty, "...can I?"
"Of course." Tatsuki snapped his fingers. "Loguetown Marine Base, turn right out the door, see it? That building with the Seagull Flag. Go in and tell them that I, Tatsuki, sent you. They'll handle all the procedures for you."
He added, "By the way, remember to go to the infirmary to get bandaged up first. Don't die on the way to your new job."
As soon as he finished speaking, without a word, Mihawk hoisted Yoru, which was taller than he was, and turned around. Dragging his heavily injured body, he staggered step by step toward the direction of the Marine Base through a trail of blood.
The entire Loguetown Square was silent.
Everyone was dumbfounded.
That swordsman who appeared with a soaring will and was destined to become famous across the sea was tricked into the melting pot of the Marines with just a few words?