The wind had died. The waves had stilled. The mast of Hawkeye's small boat had snapped, and now the sea had returned to a rare calm, devoid of any driving force for action.
So...
Theodore immediately recognized who that person was. Recalling what Weiss had once said, he grew fearful of being silenced and quickly turned his head away, muttering under his breath, "I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything!"
Hawkeye had already noticed the figure floating in the distance like a corpse. Using Observation Haki, he sensed a strong vitality—it didn't feel like a dead body.
"Hey, you there!" Hawkeye's deep voice rang out.
"I didn't see anything! I swear I saw nothing!"
Hawkeye glanced down at the black sword in his hand, contemplating whether he should kill and silence the witness.
At that moment, the Chris appeared on the distant horizon. Weiss stood on the deck, his open palm suddenly clenching tightly, crumpling the life paper in his hand.
He swore that he would train Theodore properly—absolutely!
In his Observation Haki, that brat felt like a half-dead corpse, yet clearly had seen the Chris and was now desperately swimming toward it.
...
...
"Captain! Save me! Captain, help!!"
Weiss also sensed a powerful presence nearby—a sword-like aura, sharp and overwhelming, as if it could tear the sky apart.
"Oh? So we meet at last." Hawkeye came to a halt; it was no longer suitable to try and steer the small boat.
Soon, the Chris pulled Theodore aboard. Gasping for breath on the deck, his energy long since drained, he had pushed himself to the brink out of sheer terror of Hawkeye.
He was completely exhausted.
Kadun maneuvered the Chris alongside Hawkeye's boat. One large vessel beside one small one. Weiss leaned against the railing and called down, "Care to come aboard for a drink? I've got some excellent red wine!"
Hawkeye paused in silence, then leapt aboard from his little boat.
Swish!
He landed behind Weiss. Turning around, Weiss met those legendary eyes—sharp as a hawk's. Truly worthy of the name "Hawkeye."
Then his gaze fell upon that oversized black blade—Yoru.
Shaped like a crucifix, its blade decorated in a heavy and ornate crossguard, Yoru was famed as the world's strongest black sword.
"The Sword Demon, Weiss?"
"That's me."
"Hmph."
Hawkeye was abnormally calm, even in battle. He barely ever showed emotion. But now, having confirmed that this was the newly-rising swordsman of the seas, he seemed intrigued.
After all, since Shanks lost his arm, Hawkeye had rarely found anyone worth dueling.
And this brat before him looked like a good choice.
Weiss, on the other hand, was troubled—not about fighting Hawkeye, but where to fight him. He didn't have the Navy's skill of glancing at a map and instantly finding a reef or island to battle on.
Besides, this man—arguably the founder of basic attacks in the pirate world—was outrageously strong.
In the original story, Hawkeye had once launched a flying slash from Marineford that nearly split a ship coming from Impel Down. The sword energy blocked by Diamond Jozu had torn the sky itself.
Against such a monster, Weiss wouldn't dare duel him on the ship.
"How about we have a couple drinks first? There's really nowhere around here for a proper sparring match." Weiss scratched his head, sounding helpless.
He hadn't expected to find Hawkeye just by looking for Theodore!
Hawkeye was usually cold and aloof—but when it came to wine, he never declined.
Soon, Joanne brought out a bottle of red wine from the kitchen, along with two crystal glasses.
This wine was a treasured gift from Theodore to Weiss—one of the rarest across all Four Seas.
With elegant flair, Weiss uncorked and decanted the wine. The rich, fragrant liquid soon swirled before them.
Weiss lifted his glass, raised it slightly in a toast, took a light sip, then set it down.
Hawkeye tasted his and commented, "Violet. Production stopped thirty years ago. Still being able to drink it now—it's quite a nostalgic feeling."
Weiss could only inwardly sigh. As expected of a wine-obsessed old ghost. Just one sip and he knows exactly what it is. Was Weiss drinking it for elegance?
No. He was drinking it to look cool.
Ask him to name a wine after one taste? You might as well kill him—it'd be kinder.
"It's pretty good," Weiss replied vaguely.
"But you don't understand wine," Hawkeye continued.
"Hmm? How can you tell?" Weiss was startled. He even saw through that?!
Hawkeye took another sip and said nothing. The definition of icy cool.
In the helm room, Kadun was visibly tense. Jack, beside him, muttered, "He's just the world's strongest swordsman. No need to be this nervous."
Kadun gave him a sharp look. "If you ran into someone who, on their first voyage, could split your ship in half with a single slash, you'd be more than nervous!"
"No way!"
"You guessed right. Back on the Grand Line, he did split our ship with one sword stroke. I was the only one on board who survived." Kadun confirmed Jack's guess.
"Damn, seriously?" Jack looked utterly amazed, as if he were observing some rare creature. To survive Hawkeye Mihawk—that was beyond lucky.
"Joanne, prep some food! We're having barbecue tonight."
Weiss noticed Joanne eyeing Hawkeye's black sword and quickly redirected her toward dinner duty.
This woman's brain worked in strange ways lately. Last time, she even brought up a whole basket of rocks, claiming they were "cooking aids."
"I mean," Weiss asked casually, "I don't think I'm strong enough to make you travel all this way to fight me, right?"
"I was bored. Just went for a walk."
Simple and concise—exactly Hawkeye's style. When he first heard the Navy's intel, he hadn't planned to act. But then he saw that Weiss had fought King and Kizaru. That was enough to pique his interest.
Still, Weiss moved around constantly and was hard to find. So Hawkeye just drifted across the sea, cutting down whatever annoyed him.
Even a shut-in needs to vent once in a while.
As night fell, a bonfire party began aboard the Chris.
Chunks of meat from the finest parts of a Sea King were roasting on a special grill. The flames beneath it came from a custom stove, so the deck wouldn't catch fire.
The aroma of roasting meat revived everyone's spirits after a long day.
Joanne, being a professional chef, produced results far beyond anything Weiss and the others could manage. Her food looked, smelled, and tasted divine. Theirs? Just "cooked," at best.
Even Hawkeye kept his eyes on the grill. After all, anyone who could get along with Shanks—even if cold and aloof—was bound to have a human side.
"Eat, drink, enjoy! Hawkeye, even if we're going to fight, we should be full and happy first. Who spars on an empty stomach?"
Weiss handed Hawkeye a can of beer. Barbecue with red wine? What a crime against taste!
You needed beer with grilled meat!
"Your whole attitude reminds me of someone," Hawkeye muttered.
"Who?"
"A moron."