An Empty Dock — Night
The open dock lay quiet beneath the night wind. Waves shimmered across the sea's surface, reflecting the moonlight that spilled down onto the two figures, stretching their shadows long across the planks.
"Begin."
Mihawk drew the blade from his back once more. Yoru slid free in a single, fluid motion, its edge gleaming with a cold, merciless sheen beneath the moon. There was not a trace of wasted movement.
Gern slowly drew the black blade Bahuang.The white cloth still wrapped around its body fluttered in the sea breeze.
He did not rush to attack.Instead, he remained where he was—waiting for Mihawk to strike first.
Mihawk did not hesitate.
His figure blurred as he moved, the blade tearing through the air in a straight line toward Gern's throat.
The strike was fast.
Yet Gern merely shifted his body slightly to the side, lifting Bahuang just enough to intercept.
Clang!
The clear, metallic ring echoed across the dock.
Mihawk's blade was stopped dead, unable to advance even an inch.
"Good speed," Gern commented lightly, a hint of teasing in his voice."But still too slow."
Mihawk's eyes sharpened. He immediately changed his grip, twisting the blade and sweeping horizontally toward Gern's waist.
Gern tapped the ground with the tip of his foot and leapt back effortlessly, the strike slicing through empty air.
"Your swordsmanship is pure," Gern continued as he evaded,"but it lacks the tempering that comes from real combat. No wonder you go around challenging people."
"A true swordsman isn't just fast," he added calmly."He knows how to control the rhythm of a fight."
After all, having crossed blades with someone like Kozuki Oden—and emerged victorious—Gern was more than qualified to offer such criticism.
Mihawk did not respond.
Instead, his assault grew fiercer.
In an instant, sword light poured down like rain, each strike aimed at a vital point.
Yet no matter how he altered his technique, Gern deflected every blow with ease, as if he had already seen through all of Mihawk's movements.
Finally, after one particularly fierce exchange—
Gern suddenly exerted force.
Bahuang shuddered violently, knocking Mihawk's blade aside.
In the next heartbeat, Gern stepped forward, his sword stopping just before Mihawk's throat.
One more inch—and it would have been fatal.
Mihawk's breathing quickened, but he did not retreat even a single step.
"You lost."Gern withdrew his blade and smiled faintly.
"I'll join the Mari—"
Mihawk lowered his eyes, but before he could finish, Gern cut him off coldly.
"No need."
"…?"
Mihawk stood frozen, his hawk-like eyes locked onto Gern. The sword in his hand trembled slightly.
"What do you mean by that?"His voice was low, restrained, as if squeezed out through clenched teeth.
Gern stopped and turned his head slightly, a faint smile lifting the corner of his lips."Exactly what it sounds like."
"So…"Mihawk frowned deeply, his grip whitening from the pressure."Are you mocking me?"
"No."Gern turned to face him, his gaze calm and unwavering."I just think this fight wasn't fair to you."
"Not fair?"Mihawk let out a cold laugh."A loss is a loss. I lost—I accept it. I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity."Gern shook his head, his expression turning serious."At your current level, you don't even qualify to make me get serious."
"So this… doesn't count as a fight."
"…Even your full strength," Mihawk murmured quietly,"doesn't count as a fight to me…?"
He fell silent.
"So—"Gern tilted his head slightly, looking out toward the distant horizon where sea met sky, his tone light yet absolute.
"Five years."
"In five years, I'll give you another chance."
The night wind swept past, tugging at the hems of their clothes.
Mihawk's gaze flickered as he weighed Gern's words.
"Five years…"He repeated it softly, then suddenly looked up, blazing battle intent igniting in his eyes.
"Fine! In five years, I'll challenge you again!"
"And if you lose then…"Gern grinned and raised a single finger."Then you'll really—really—have to join the Marines."
Mihawk snorted coldly."I won't lose a second time."
"Let's hope so."Gern shrugged, turned, and began to walk away, his tall figure stretching long under the moonlight.
Mihawk remained where he stood, staring at Gern's retreating back as his fist slowly clenched.
In that fight, Gern hadn't even removed the wrappings from his blade—while he himself had given everything he had, yet still failed to force Gern to take him seriously.
That gap filled him with frustration—and exhilaration.
"Five years…"He whispered, his gaze hardening with resolve.
"In five years, I'll show you what a true swordsman looks like!"
With that thought, Mihawk suddenly raised his blade high, its sharp edge glinting coldly in the moonlight as he pointed it at Gern's distant figure.
"For the next five years, I absolutely will not fail again!!"His voice cut through the silent dock like steel.
"Until I defeat you and become a great swordsman—I will never lose again!"
"So—do you have a problem with that?!""GERN!!!"
Hearing the shout of the fifteen-year-old Mihawk, Gern stopped walking. He frowned slightly.
"…Strange. That sounded awfully familiar."
But to maintain appearances, he still turned around. The smile on his lips deepened, a trace of nostalgia flashing through his eyes.
"No objections."He waved his hand over his shoulder, his back already turned again."I'll be waiting. Five years from now."
Mihawk slowly lowered his sword, watching as Gern's figure disappeared into the night, his clenched fist turning pale.
He would not lose a second time.
In five years, he would make Gern witness the true sharpness befitting the World's Greatest Swordsman.
The sea wind howled, scattering his words into the night—but it could not extinguish the burning fighting spirit in his heart.
Thus, the five-year pact was sealed.
(Zoro's strength skyrocketed in just two years—five years should be more than enough for me to stand one step away from the world's strongest, right?)
...
Lilikaya Island remained as noisy as ever. Neon lights flowed along the streets, gamblers' cheers and drunken shouts blending into a constant din.
Gern walked through the crowd, his fingers lightly tapping against his sword hilt. Mihawk's battle-filled declaration still echoed in his mind.
"Tch, what a shame," he muttered to himself, rubbing his chin."No wonder it felt so familiar…"
"Should I have left a scar on Mihawk's chest or something?"He sighed softly."Missed opportunity. Definitely missed it…"
As he let his thoughts wander, a clear, gentle singing voice suddenly cut through the street's chaos—soft as moonlight, drifting straight into his ears.
Gern halted and followed the sound.
Before long, he found himself in front of a slave shop at a street corner.
A green-haired young man sat on the steps outside the cage, holding a battered old guitar in his arms, fingers softly plucking the strings.
His voice was low and gentle, tinged with a faint rasp—yet unexpectedly beautiful.
Inside the cage, a blonde woman wearing a teal dress stood gripping the iron bars. A slave collar circled her neck. She smiled as she softly joined in, her voice harmonizing with his.
Their voices wove together, as if even the cold iron cage could not separate their shared understanding and warmth.
"Tesoro… and Stella?"Gern narrowed his eyes, recognizing the green-haired youth.
This was his true objective—the future Golden Emperor.
Yet at this moment, Tesoro was nothing more than a poor young man desperately saving money for the woman he loved, not the ruler of global wealth he would one day become.
There was no greed in his eyes—only tenderness and unshakable resolve for the girl inside the cage.
Gern did not approach immediately. He leaned against a nearby wall, silently watching.
The song slowly faded.
Tesoro lifted his head toward the night sky and spoke softly,"Stella… just wait a little longer. I'm almost there. I'll have enough money soon."
Stella smiled gently, slipping her fingers through the bars to touch his."Mm. I'll wait for you."
Watching the scene, Gern's lips curved slightly.
"What a touching love story…"He murmured under his breath—then his eyes hardened.
"Too bad this world isn't kind to people like you."