"Don't say that!"
The outburst came not from someone else, but from Sergeant Tashigi. "You can't even get within 100 meters of them. What gives you the right to talk about others?" she yelled, defending the female swordsman. As a female swordsman herself, she was offended by the insinuation that women were somehow wrong for practicing the art.
But no one paid attention to her. All eyes were on the center of the field, where the two figures had vanished.
WHOOSH!
A man and a woman, moving faster than the Marine's Six Styles' "Soru," reappeared in an instant and clashed.
CLANG!
Invisible ripples of force spread out from their blades, creating a powerful gust of wind that snapped nearby branches.
"Have they started?"
"I can't believe that woman can keep up."
"It's just the beginning. Don't worry," some spectators said, unwilling to admit this woman was as strong as she appeared.
One man, with his arms crossed, scoffed. "It was just a single blow. I can see all their sword moves."
What appeared as a single blow to the untrained eye was, in fact, hundreds of rapid exchanges. Mihawk's expression grew more serious. He knew that this level of swordplay couldn't be achieved with just Haki. The flexibility and skill of her blade were on par with his own Supreme Grade Sharp Sword.
What was even more bizarre was that this woman's strength far exceeded his expectations. He had given her his full attention, yet she was still keeping pace.
BOOM!
A powerful shockwave pushed Mihoko back a few steps, but she remained calm. She held her white sword, Hiru, and unleashed a ten-meter-long white slash. Mihawk didn't hold back, responding with a light-blue slash of his own.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A series of sharp slashes tore through the brick ground, leaving behind deep grooves.
"Run!" the townspeople screamed, their desire to watch the fight replaced by a primal fear.
Rodin and Crocodile had already retreated to the safety of their warship. Tashigi, who was in the middle of the chaos, managed to cut her bonds, but her glasses fell to the ground again.
WHOOSH!
A sharp blade of light sliced across the ground, narrowly missing her. Mihoko, seeing Tashigi fumbling around on the ground, sighed. She knew what her captain would want her to do. With a flash, she appeared beside Tashigi, picked her up, and leaped a hundred meters away, placing her under the warship.
"You distracted my crew?" Rodin laughed, jumping down from the ship. He picked up Tashigi's glasses and handed them to her. He needed a crew, and Tashigi seemed like a good start.
"Thank you," Tashigi said, putting on her glasses. She was surprised to see that her rescuer was the pirate who had hijacked the warship.
"By the way, where's Mr. Smoker?" she asked, looking around.
Smoker wasn't as lucky. He couldn't dodge the stray attacks from the two great swordsmen. A shocking wound appeared on his body, and he fell to the ground, turning into a puff of smoke. Tashigi couldn't tell if he had escaped or if he was dead.
"Can you still worry about others?" Crocodile chuckled. "You should be glad you survived."
"You pirates don't understand!" Tashigi retorted, her lips chapped from thirst. "He's my colleague, my partner!"
"Miss Marine, you're a prisoner now. Please correct your posture," Rodin said, picking her up in his arms and leaping onto the warship.
"Let me go! That's rude!"
As the battle raged on, the port became a ghost town. The destructive power of the wind blades tore through buildings as if they were made of paper.
A man with a camera, a reporter, was ecstatic. "Quick! Get this first-hand news!" he yelled to his assistants.
"Boss, we can't go any closer. My life is more important than a story," one of them said.
"This is a confrontation between great swordsmen!" the reporter said, ignoring their protests. "And one of them is a woman dressed like Hawkeye! This is a huge scoop!"
WHOOSH!
A dry, cracking wind hit them, tearing at their faces. The reporters, unable to bear the pain, scattered. The cameraman, however, endured, grinning through the pain. He was oblivious to the fact that he was now a one-man crew, capturing the epic battle like a heroic soldier on the battlefield.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The two figures moved with terrifying speed, their simple yet powerful sword strokes causing the air to shudder.
"Monsters! They're all monsters!" The crowd, a mix of pirates and townsfolk, was in a state of panic.
"Is she at a disadvantage? It looks like she's being suppressed!"
The people's awe had long since given way to fear. This wasn't a fight; it was a disaster. Their homes were being torn apart, and they were caught in the crossfire. "Marines, where are the Marines?" they cried out, but there was no one to hear them.
Rodin watched the fight from the safety of his warship, a silent observer. Mihoko, at three-and-a-half stars, seemed to be holding her own, but Hawkeye was a seasoned veteran. At 41 years old, he was at the peak of his power. It was an unfair fight, but Mihoko was more than holding her own.
On the warship, Tashigi's fear had been replaced by a deep sense of awe. This devastating display of power, wielded by a woman, shattered her preconceived notions. Her eyes sparkled with newfound admiration. "Who said women are inferior to men?" she thought.
WHOOSH!
A lock of hair fluttered in the wind—Mihoko's hair.
"You are strong," Hawkeye said, withdrawing his blade. "But you still have one flaw."
His heart was pounding. Mihoko's moves and style were so similar to his own, but she was also learning from him in real-time, her power growing with every clash. It was an incredible sight.
"You... ruined my beauty," Mihoko said, her motivation for swordsmanship tied to her sense of beauty. The loss of her hair was a direct hit to her pride.
CLANG!
Their blades met again, and Mihoko pushed Hawkeye back.
"It's been a long time since I felt this much pressure. Not since my fights with Red Hair," Hawkeye said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "I'm always at the top, but there are fewer and fewer people who can match me."
"Didn't you defeat him?" Mihoko asked, confused. In her world, she had.
"Defeat? I haven't fought him since he lost his arm," Hawkeye said, his expression serious. "Now, let's end this with one final move!" He readied his black blade, Yoru.
Mihoko's brow furrowed. In her world, Red Hair still had both his arms. She pushed those thoughts aside. This was a battle against her future self, and she had to give it everything. To defeat her own stronger image would be the ultimate affirmation of her power.
In the distance, a man with a camera, lying prone like a gecko, watched with fanatical eyes. He had been sliced and diced, but he didn't care. "This is it! The final moment!" he thought, his camera focused on the two. "This will be the biggest story in the East Blue!"
Hawkeye leaped into the air. "Yoru..." he began, his blade glowing with a purple light.
"Hiru..." Mihoko's voice was like a melodic song, her white blade Day beginning to glow with a crystalline layer of snow.
The two jumped into the air, their blades ready for the final strike. The air grew tense, solidifying around them. At that critical moment, Mihoko felt a strange chill, a burst of energy. "Uh-huh..." she let out a soft gasp.
Her face flushed. The Genius Faucet had just activated, pushing her strength from three-and-a-half stars to a full four stars! But to an outside observer, it was just an alluring sound.
Hawkeye, however, felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn't help but imagine himself making that sound, in that pose. His face turned ugly, his lower body went cold, and his sword intent, which had been building like a pressure cooker, suddenly popped, dissipating like a soft tide.