One month later.The first half of the Grand Line.On a calm, eerily quiet stretch of sea—
An extremely bizarre scene was unfolding.
The coffin-shaped boat of the World's Greatest Swordsman, Dracule "Hawk-Eye" Mihawk, was racing across the sea at a speed utterly incompatible with its morbid, minimalist appearance.
But what powered it was enough to make any swordsman who witnessed the scene collapse in despair.
On either side of the tiny boat, the world's only two Supreme Grade Blades that had been forged into true black blades—(Shusui was also a black blade, but since Zoro later chose to return it in exchange for Enma, it was more like a collector's relic without a true master)—
Gern Reginald Sigmar's black blade, Bahuang, and Mihawk's black blade, Yoru, were being used like ordinary oars.
Left and right, the two men were rowing with their legendary swords.
Each "stroke" was an ultimate slash—compressing air and water alike, generating terrifying propulsion that sent the tiny coffin boat surging forward at absurd speed.
...…
"I can't take this anymore! I seriously can't!"
Gern flung Bahuang aside in despair, collapsed onto the cramped deck without any regard for dignity, and started complaining.
"Seriously, Mihawk, did we have to take this… unique ride of yours?I'm a Marine Admiral and the New World's Strategic Commander-in-Chief!You're the World's Greatest Swordsman!
If some idiot reporter snaps a picture of this and puts it on the front page, our reputations will be ruined for life!"
"It won't happen," Mihawk replied flatly, his eternal iceberg expression unchanged. His wrist moved steadily as he swung Yoru again, unleashing a condensed slash into the sea. The boat lurched forward violently.
Then he stated, as if describing the most natural fact in the world:
"Other than you, Enel, and Kizaru… anyone else who sees this—no matter where they flee—I will hunt them down and eliminate them permanently."
"…You psycho." Gern's mouth twitched. "No wonder Krieg's fleet didn't die unfairly…"
After finishing his complaint, Gern squinted at Mihawk's sharp profile, lowered his voice, and spoke in a teasing tone:
"But seriously—are you telling the truth? I don't believe it."
He deliberately dragged out his words.
"Or is it that you just want to keep up your lonely, mysterious, ultra-cool persona in front of that 'green-haired moss head'?
Afraid that if you rode a warship or a merchant vessel, it wouldn't match your 'World's Greatest Swordsman' aesthetic anymore~~?"
"Cough."
Mihawk let out an unnatural cough and subtly turned his head away, avoiding Gern's teasing gaze.
Because… Gern was about 70–80% correct.
Yes, he really did think that way.
With their status and wealth, acquiring a fast and luxurious warship or commercial vessel would have been trivial.
But how could riding something so ordinary highlight the uniqueness and strength of Hawk-Eye Mihawk?
Style had to be maintained.
He was the World's Greatest Swordsman, after all.
Gern rolled his eyes at Mihawk's "pride over comfort" attitude.
Then, resigned to his fate, he sat up and resumed rowing with Bahuang, muttering:
"Fine, fine. You're handsome, you decide…I'll just suffer along with you, old bones and all.
Hopefully when we get there, the Straw Hat kid hasn't already been turned into a shadow specimen by Moria.
But with that protagonist template of his, it'll probably be Moria who's already game over…"
...…
The Grand Line.The Florian Triangle.Gecko Moria's Thriller Bark—coastal area of the ship-island.
The Thousand Sunny was quietly docked in the fog-choked harbor.
But the deck was in complete chaos.
A horde of grotesquely shaped zombies were huffing and puffing as they carried crate after crate of gold and treasure looted from Thriller Bark onto the Sunny.
Directing this "moving crew" was a girl with pink twin-tails, elegantly holding a wine-red parasol.
The Ghost Princess—Perona.
"Hurry up! Hurry up! You slow idiots! Move all the treasure onto this cute ship already!"
Perona shouted in her distinctive, slightly spoiled tone, her face filled with smug satisfaction.
Opposite her stood Nami, wearing a gorgeous white wedding dress she had stolen (originally belonging to some unfortunate zombie bride), gripping her Clima-Tact, guarding the ship with full vigilance.
"Stop! That's our ship! Put the treasure back!" Nami shouted sharply.Though Perona's eerie powers frightened her, her determination to protect her crew—and especially the treasure—kept her from backing down.
But Perona didn't take the warning seriously at all. Instead, she burst into her signature laugh:
"Heh-roh, heh-roh, heh-roh~"
"What are you going to do about it?" she lifted her chin, lightly tapping the deck with the tip of her parasol.
"I'm taking all the treasure. I'm taking your ship and leaving this stupid place~
If you want to stop me…"
She deliberately dragged out her tone and gracefully raised her left hand. Dozens of floating, ominous white explosive ghosts instantly appeared above her palm.
"Then come fight me!"
The dense swarm of bomb ghosts circled in the air, locking onto Nami with overt menace.
Yet the reaction Perona expected—panic or an angry counterattack—never came.
Instead, she noticed Nami's gaze seemed to pass through her, staring rigidly at something behind her.
Nami's pupils had clearly widened in shock, as if she had seen something utterly unbelievable.
A flicker of confusion crossed Perona's mind, but her smugness only deepened—she assumed Nami had finally been terrified into submission.
She was just about to burst into even more arrogant laughter and mock her helpless opponent…
When she completely failed to notice—
A coffin-shaped boat lit by eerie green candles had silently docked at the shore.
And two figures had already appeared behind her, one on each side—without her noticing at all.
Just as Perona's lips parted and her laugh was about to escape—
A low male voice, filled with curiosity and mischievous intent, gently spoke beside her left ear:
"Hey, little girl… is this melon ripe?Ah—wait, wrong line.
I mean… can your ghosts really make people depressed?"
Gern and Hawk-Eye have entered the scene.