South Blue, a Nameless deserted island.
Ever since their reunion on Amazon Lily in the West Blue, Seven, Mihawk, and Fujitora had raced to Ohara to confront the Marine Buster Call fleet.
They sprinted again from the West Blue to the Sorbet Kingdom and invited Kuma and Ginny aboard.
Along the way, they had never once formally compared swordsmanship.
Not only was the black blade yoru in Mihawk's hand itching for battle, Seven also wanted to see—through pure swordplay—whether any gap still stood between them.
When the ship passed the barren island, both men drew their blades.
Far away, on the deck of the east blue emperor, the three spectators—Ginny, Kuma, and Robin—each held a spyglass, giving Fujitora a live commentary.
"The Captain's drawn his sword; the vice-captain's drawn his too."
"But they haven't moved yet."
On the reef-rimmed island, salty sea wind fluttered their coats; Seven's white hair danced in the breeze.
"Mihawk, you're the educated one—when you've got time, help me think up some move names."
A basic slash carries plenty of swagger, yet it feels lacking if you don't shout something. Shouting it is embarrassing and a bit chuuni, but dammit, it's cool.
The moment Saber yelled "Excalibur," she'd already won in terms of presence.
Then there's "Za Warudo," "Unbutton Pants," "Spicy Heavens," "Portable Toilet," and "Strip-n-Stroke!"
Fire-wash!!!
Unlike them, Seven and Mihawk hacked at each other for three days straight and couldn't come up with a single move name.
Had Zoro not yet been born, Seven would've rushed to Shimotsuki Village in the East Blue to kidnap him—no chores, just naming moves.
Mihawk inclined his head slightly. "All right."
Their clashing auras rose higher and higher; even the sea wind was severed by the invisible sword intent.
Voom—voom—
Two crescent Flying Slashes shot out simultaneously. Mihawk narrowed his eyes; black blade yoru flashed like dark light, slicing the oncoming shockwave.
Seven's left hand ignited in roaring flames, taking the Flying Slash bare.
Before the Lunarian bloodline had been grafted onto him, Seven's greatest fear had been ending up a mere Burning stick.
Facts proved half that fear was wasted: the blaze could burn from any part of his body—be it a torch or blazing wings.
Seeing Seven take the slash unharmed without Armament Haki, Mihawk's eyelids twitched twice.
"Monster."
"Mihawk, I'm about to speed up!"
The instant the flames on his left died out, Seven left after-images behind, musou isshin in hand, slashing in a near-teleport.
Mihawk raised his blade to block.
Clang—
Centered on musou isshin and black blade yoru, the mere shockwave snapped the east blue emperor's sails and rocked the hull violently.
Quick-handed, Kuma shielded Ginny and Robin from the blast. "Sit on my shoulders and watch."
Settling them on his shoulders, Kuma extended a hand, forming a paw-shaped bubble before him.
On the distant island, purple and green Flying Slashes tore across the surrounding sea; Fujitora had to draw his sword gamblers fireline, cutting down the stray waves aimed at the ship.
"Kuma-chin, the Captain and the others are incredible."
This scale already echoed a fraction of the God Valley battle in memory.
"Yeah," Kuma sighed.
A pure sword contest could wreak havoc rivaling mighty Devil Fruits; if the Captain added Haki and his fruit power, the sight would be almost too beautiful to bear.
These weren't swordsmen—they were walking natural disasters, certified by the Marines' Buster Call.
From now on, they could sleep soundly.
As a half-blooded Baccania, Kuma had suffered countless hardships; the World Government's shadow had loomed over him for years. He'd rejected Ginny's proposal for fear she'd be dragged down by his bloodline.
Now, at last, he needn't be afraid.
"I've got to work hard too."
Under the duel's aftershocks, the island became a chessboard of neat, criss-crossing trenches.
For Mihawk, who aimed to become the World's Greatest Swordsman, two years of challenging masters everywhere had honed his blade immensely.
He'd thought Seven reaching Great Swordsman rank within two years was the limit.
Never had he imagined Great Swordsman wasn't the ceiling.
At this pace, before Mihawk could claim the top spot, the other man might catch up—and surpassing him would become unlikely.
Lately Seven had spent most of his time developing his fruit, molding lightning into shapes even during meetings.
Mihawk resolved then and there: from today—quit iced black tea, double training, and cross blades with Barzeb every third day.
Bang—Mihawk was sent flying dozens of meters.
"Mihawk, don't lose focus."
Rising, Mihawk wore a rare smile. "Barzeb, I'm getting serious."
If moments ago he'd been a toying tiger, now he fought like a rabid beast, his assaults ever fiercer.
The current Seven was no longer the swordsman who, two years back, needed Mihawk to hold back.
Determined to give everything, Mihawk met no resistance; instead, blazing eagerness flickered in Seven's eyes—exactly what training the Musou no Hitotachi demanded.
Setting aside Conqueror's Haki and fruit powers, on this uninhabited island and with no need to hide his flames, Seven attacked almost without reserve.
The east blue emperor had already sailed far enough to stay clear of the fight's shockwaves.
On the island the two figures clashed, then traded distant sword blasts, showing no notion of fatigue.
They even paused to eat and drink before resuming, each determined to prove whose basic slash reigned supreme.
After two full days and nights, still no victor; another fierce clash sent them skidding apart.
Seven grinned.
"Mihawk, in swordsmanship no one outshines you. I, Barzeb, acknowledge you as the strongest."
Mihawk panted, "You're not bad yourself."
Seven threw his head back in laughter. "Mihawk, running out of stamina?"
Time and again, Seven had faced the same frustration Mihawk now felt—training with all one's might yet the body unable to keep up.
There was no helping it.
Everyone is born with different constitutions; even siblings from the same parents vary in strength.
Since acquiring Big Eater, Innate Divine Strength, Iron Balloon, and Lunarian blood through the System, Seven had no weaknesses left.
Even a powerhouse like Mihawk couldn't outlast him.
Mihawk's fighting spirit soared. "Bring it!"
Seven gripped his sword. "As you wish!"
...South Blue waters.
On the dog-headed warship, Vice Admiral Garp listened to vice-captain Bogard's report.
Ever since he'd secretly phoned his dear son Monkey D. Dragon for intel, Garp hadn't asked again why Dragon had come to the Sorbet Kingdom.
"Golden Lion Shiki escaped Impel Down at the cost of severing his own legs. Fleet Admiral Sengoku orders us back to Marineford at once—and—"
"We've located the Morning Star Pirates."
Sea wind stirred Garp's dark hair. "Ignore Sengoku. Set course there."