Mihawk tilted his head slightly toward her, one eyebrow raised. "You're the one who wanted to come down to this island. Deal with it."
Perona's eyes widened, scandalized. "Hihihi! What?! You dare pin this on me? You're the one who attracts the lunatics!" she protested, floating higher to glare down at him. But Mihawk ignored her once again, his attention shifting back to Korran, who was now approaching, dragging his injured leg but still clutching his bloodstained dagger.
"I won," Korran growled, his voice rough but steady. He drove his dagger into the sand in front of Mihawk—a gesture of submission as much as defiance. "I'm at your service, Hawkeye. Take me with you."
Mihawk studied him for a moment. Inside his mind, Leo was thrilled.
This guy's got guts! A survivor, a fighter. Polish him up a bit, and he could turn into something surprising. Second official nakama, check!
Outwardly, Mihawk gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "Get on," he said simply, straightening up to head back to the raft.
Korran followed, limping but resolute, while Perona floated behind them, muttering complaints about "filthy pirates who reek of blood." The raft, now weighed down by a third passenger, drifted away from the shore, leaving behind a silent carnage—an island littered with bodies.
The coffin-shaped raft glided over the waves once more, its black planks creaking faintly under the added weight of its new occupant. The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the ocean with golden and orange reflections that danced on the water like liquid flames.
Seated in the center of the raft, Korran—the bloodied survivor of the brutal battle on the island—was bandaging his wounded thigh with a scrap of fabric torn from his own pants. The silence between the three was heavy, broken only by the lapping of the waves and Korran's ragged breathing, still laced with exhaustion.
After a long stretch of watching the newcomer with a mix of curiosity and disdain, Perona shattered the quiet with a sharp burst of laughter. "Hihihi! So, Korran, is it?" she chirped, floating closer to him, her parasol tilted as she peered down at him. "No regrets, huh? You let all your buddies die on that beach just to save your own skin. Doesn't it bother you to see them in pieces in the sand?" Her tone was teasing, but a hint of suspicion lurked beneath her mockery. Her sparkling eyes scanned Korran, searching for a crack in his icy facade.
Korran didn't look up right away, continuing to tighten the bandage around his leg with slow, steady movements. Then, after a moment, he raised his head, his dark gaze meeting Perona's without flinching. "We're pirates," he said, his voice hoarse but firm. "Freedom's what we all chase. But it's as free in good as it is in bad. They knew what they were signing up for when they came to the New World. So did I. The ones who died… they just weren't strong enough to survive that freedom." He shrugged, a casual gesture, before turning his eyes to the horizon as if the topic didn't warrant further thought.
Perona blinked, caught off guard by his answer, then frowned, drifting closer to scrutinize him. "Hihihi! You're cruel, aren't you?" she said, her voice teetering between amusement and a flicker of unease. "And kinda creepy, too. Don't you have a heart or something?" She spun toward Mihawk, raising her voice deliberately so he'd hear her despite his stillness at the raft's front. "Hey, Mihawk! I don't like this guy! He's too weird and way too… bloodthirsty! Kick him off, I say! As your second-in-command, I've got the right to demand that, don't I?"
Mihawk didn't respond right away, his gaze still fixed on the horizon, hands adjusting the sail with methodical precision. Inside his mind, Leo smirked.
Is she for real? She actually thinks she's got an official rank?
But he also felt a growing curiosity—Korran was a survivor, a fighter, but what kind of man was he really? Was he worthy of joining the legend he aimed to forge? Mihawk turned his head just enough for his golden eyes to catch Korran in their periphery and asked in a low, cutting voice, "And loyalty, Korran? What do you think of it?"
Korran paused mid-motion while tending to his bandage, considering the question. Then he looked up at Mihawk, his expression blunt but devoid of warmth. "Loyalty?" he echoed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I don't put much stock in it. People swear allegiance until the storm hits or the gold shines brighter somewhere else. Me, I want to live an adventure—a real one, the kind they'll still talk about a hundred years from now. I'll give myself to whoever can offer me that. For now, that's you, Hawk. You've got an aura… something that says you're going places. So I'm here. But if someone else promises a bigger dream, I'll walk away without a backward glance."
Silence fell. Perona's eyes widened, and she floated beside Mihawk with theatrical outrage. "Hihihi! You hear that?!" she cried, jabbing a finger at Korran like he was a revolting bug. "He just said he'd ditch you the second a better fish bites! He's a traitor waiting to happen! Kick him off, Mihawk! Toss him overboard—let him swim to Sabaody if he's so clever!" She crossed her arms, cheeks puffed out in a sulky pout, certain her case was airtight.
But to Perona's—and even Leo's—surprise, Mihawk didn't respond with his usual icy detachment. Instead, a sound escaped his throat: a laugh. Short, dry, but genuine. Perona jolted, floating back with a look of pure shock. "Hihihi?! You… you laughed?" she stammered, eyes wide as if she'd seen a ghost—which, for her, was ironic. Korran raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary, waiting to see what came next.
Inside Mihawk's mind, Leo was just as stunned but delighted.
Whoa, Mihawk laughing? Is that canon? No, wait, I made him laugh!
The laughter faded as quickly as it had come. Mihawk turned fully to Korran, his golden eyes glinting with an almost amused spark, and extended his right hand, palm open, in an unexpected gesture.
"Then let's make it this way," Mihawk said. "You help me reach the One Piece—the ultimate treasure, the pinnacle of this world. In return, I'll give you the grandest adventure you can imagine, one that'll shake the seas and carve your name into legend. What do you say?"
Korran blinked, clearly thrown by the offer. For a moment, he stayed silent, his gaze flicking from Mihawk's outstretched hand to his stoic yet strangely magnetic face. Then, slowly, a tired but genuine smile spread across his cracked lips. He straightened up, wincing slightly from his injured leg, and extended his own hand—calloused and stained with dried blood. "Deal," he said, his raspy voice carrying fresh resolve. He gripped Mihawk's hand firmly.
Perona, still hovering nearby, opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. She stared at the handshake with growing disbelief, then crossed her arms with a loud huff. "Hihihi! Are you serious right now?" she finally blurted, her voice pitching high. "You just recruited a guy who admits he might betray you someday, and you laugh like it's funny?! You're as nuts as he is, Mihawk!" She twirled her parasol in irritation, her ghosts mimicking her indignation as they spiraled chaotically around her.
Mihawk released Korran's hand and turned back to the sail, resuming his role as the silent navigator as if nothing remarkable had happened. Inside, Leo savored every second of the exchange.
This guy's rough, and he's got guts. He doesn't buy into blind loyalty, but he wants a dream. Works for me. With him, we can build something epic.
He could already picture Korran at his side in colossal battles—a nakama driven not by duty but by shared ambition, the perfect piece to complete his vision of turning Mihawk into a living legend.
Korran, meanwhile, settled more comfortably on the raft, ignoring Perona's grumbling. He pulled a small knife from his pocket—not the bloodied dagger, but a smaller blade, almost a tool—and began carving a piece of wood he'd picked up on the beach, his hands working with surprising precision despite their state. "An adventure, huh…" he murmured, almost to himself, his dark eyes glinting with a new spark. "It's been a while since I had a real purpose."
TO BE CONTINUED...
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