#steven john ward | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 8 months ago

Text

Defenseless I remain before the first light breaks (part 2)

GIF by boromirswife

Younger!Dracule Mihawk x younger!reader.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series. This is part two of two.

This fic takes place before Mihawk joined the Seven Warlords.

*****

Alone in your study, you stare at the ringing Den Den Mushi in your hand, feeling tense, even worried, as if the tiny creature were a Sea Monster ready to devour you. As you told Mihawk, it’s not unusual for Garp to call to tell you about a new bounty, but only three days after Mihawk appeared on your door, more dead than living, victim of who knows what incident or assault? Too big of a coincidence for you not to become suspicious; and no matter how much you like Garp and consider him a good man, he’s a Marine - a natural enemy, for a pirate like your unexpected guest.

A deep breath to calm yourself, and “Vice Admiral; sorry I kept you waiting.” you answer, your tone relaxed.

“No problem. (name), have you by any chance seen Dracule Mihawk?”

The question is posed quickly, without I need to ask you something or It might seem a weird question, but… before it, no doubt to take you by surprise and not give you the time to prepare an answer. The sly old fox is as cunning as he is strong -that is, extremely- but you are your mother’s daughter, and verbal sparring is your bread and butter.

“Mihawk? Not since the last time I failed to apprehend him, four months ago.” you lie, sounding frustrated and unhappy “It was in Alabasta.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“I need some time to lick my wounds. Why the sudden interest?”

Your contact hesitates only for a moment before replying that the information is classified, which doesn’t surprise you. “I’m asking because he was last seen a few days of navigation away from your island; I know it’s a long shot, but I thought I’d ask since I know you, and you know him. He might be wounded.”

Because you and yours are the ones who wounded him, maybe?, you’re almost about to ask.

“As I said, I haven’t seen him in months; but thanks for telling me he might be in the area, I’m going to check the waters around my island.”

“If you find any trace tell me, alright? And, (name)... I know you usually bring in the heads, but on this particular occasion there’s really no need for you to take him alive.”

You’re suddenly grateful that your interlocutor can’t see you. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Very well; I know how important it is for you to kill Mihawk, so… good luck.”

You say your good-byes, and you sigh deeply as you place the Den Den Mushi back on your desk; rather than a two-minute conversation, you feel as if you had just taken a difficult exam, one whose result you still don’t know.

At least, you’re reasonably sure Garp believed your lie; he has no reason to believe you would choose to protect and shelter Mihawk, since as far as he knows you’re nothing more than a hunter almost obsessively chasing the prey that keeps evading her, but he does know Mihawk was sailing in the vicinity of your island… what if Garp decides to come and check with his own eyes? You’d readily bet your life on the loyalty of your people, if they’re told to keep the arrival of your guest on the island secret they will, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Marines use force to extract a confession - which is an outcome you obviously need to avoid.

Why is Garp looking for Mihawk? He’s a powerful pirate, which makes him obviously an enemy and a target for the Marines, but the fact that the Vice Admiral chose not to tell you the reason for his sudden interest is suspicious. In the last month there has been no trace of Mihawk and his exploits in the paper, which you read carefully every day, therefore it can’t be that the Marines have a sudden need to apprehend him.

What the hell is happening?

You have no idea. What you know is that it doesn’t necessarily have to be your problem - in fact, the best thing you could do is to call back Garp in an hour and tell him you have captured Mihawk, and will soon deliver the man’s head to him, you’ll need the bounty paid in cash within two weeks, thank you very much.

Of course, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind. As you said, capturing Mihawk when he’s not at his full strength, and therefore does not represent a challenge, would give you no pleasure whatsoever, no matter how high the bounty; also, the man asked for your help in a moment of great need, when he was gravely sick and didn’t even know how to return home. How could you abandon him, or worse betray him to his enemies?

You couldn’t; in any circumstances. You told Mihawk he’ll be safe as long as he remains under your roof, and you’re determined to keep your word whatever the cost, because it’s the right, the human thing to do… and also for another reason.

Your grandfather, who first put a gun in your hand when you were barely a child and taught you to use it, warned you against developing a personal relationship with your targets. You can seduce them to make them lower their guard, and even enjoy the sex while you’re at it -your grandfather obviously waited for a few years before discussing this particular matter with you- but developing feelings for them is absolutely forbidden. Also, quite a few of your victims routinely beg to be spared: I’ll never do it again! Please, I swear I’m sorry! I have a wife and children…

It’s not your problem, (name). You’re not their mother, and it’s not your job to forgive or help them. If they are adults, and unless you doubt they are actually guilty of the crimes that led to the issuance of their bounty, have no mercy; every person chooses how to live their life, and this means the consequences are theirs and only theirs.

Wise words, said by a wise man, that you always treasured. Even though you don’t consider yourself an especially attractive woman, you have used your feminine graces to make a target drop their guard more often than you can remember, once even reaching for your gun and shooting the man while he was still inside you, and in a few occasions your victims have even shown you the pictures of their children, hoping it would help them be spared - it didn’t. That is a category of people you feel particularly not guilty about killing: if they cared so much about their families, they wouldn’t have resorted to a life of crime, wouldn’t they have?

Of course, Mihawk is not like that. He wouldn’t beg for his life even if a single word granted him a century of peace, and when you tried sliding to the seat next to his in a tavern, battling your eyelashes and asking if you could buy him a drink, he looked supremely unimpressed and asked whether you were a bounty-hunter or a Marine working undercover. In all the years since you’ve started this job, he is and remains the only person who realised what you were, which is only one of the many reasons he has become special, in a way you haven’t fully appreciated until -you fear- it was too late.

You do want to capture Mihawk; and why shouldn’t you? He’s a powerful pirate -even though he doesn’t go out of his way to spread death and destruction among innocent civilians, and you respect him for it- which makes him an interesting challenge; also, the name of the person who has neutralised the world’s greatest swordsman is bound to be remembered in the years to come, which you really wouldn’t mind.

You’ve tried your best, time and time again; you’ve meticulously planned each of your attacks, spending days researching on Mihawk to find his weaknesses -which he doesn’t seem to have- and even took risks you normally wouldn’t just for a single chance of killing him. You never have; and while those continuous failures are more than a little frustrating, and made you even doubt of your abilities as a bounty hunter, you can’t deny it’s also exciting, the sort of ambition that pushes you to improve and try again, to reach the limits of your body, mind and heart, to conquer your prize. A tiny, illogical part of you isn’t even sorry you’ve been defeated yet again, because it means you get to try again, and feel your heart pound with excitement every time you prepare for your next assault.

That is also why you’ve never tried to poison Mihawk, or to kill him without him having the chance to retaliate: bounty hunters have no specific moral code, beyond the basics of not killing civilians and making sure the person they’re going to neutralise is actually a criminal, but Mihawk deserves better than that - he deserved a proper fight, and you know he appreciates you giving it to him.

Obviously, he could have killed you; easily, even. Mihawk has proved many times in the course of his career as a pirate that he has no qualms about dispatching those who challenge or even just disturb him. You like to think that, even though you’ve never managed to neutralise him, your attacks bother him at least a little more than a fly that keeps buzzing around his head; nevertheless, and while he could probably cut you in half with Yoru with a hand behind his back, he has never hurt you - not to the point your life was at risk or even that you couldn’t return home safely. He doesn’t fear you might kill him; you could almost think he enjoys it, which should be humiliating from your point of view, but it isn’t, not fully, not only, and for some reason over the past few years a weird menage has arisen between you, as if you were not rivals, a killer and her prey, but two acquaintances who shared a good relationship… almost as if you were… friends.

Again, (name)? It’s the third time this year. With all the criminals and delinquents in the world, why do you keep coming back to me?

Good gracious, woman, it’s the middle of the summer. Do you really want to fight in this heat? Very well…

Ah, you again; can you at least wait for me to finish my dinner? You’re welcome to join me, if you want.

A witness would probably think you get more amusement and pleasure from your repeated fights, than frustration for failing over and over again; he clearly doesn’t mind too much you keep interfering with his life -a crime that has costed more than a famous pirate their life- since he has never killed you, and you feel furious every time you hear or read on the paper that a colleague of yours, or a mercenary, or a killer for hire -in short, someone who is not another pirate- has attempted to his life.

“How dare they? He’s mine, dammit!” you’ve cried the first time, to which your mother raised an eyebrow, more amused than perplexed.

“Are you sure you’re talking about your favourite quarry, my love? And not a new lover?” she said, and you felt yourself blushing, not knowing what to answer.

Mihawk is an extremely attractive man; tall and strong, he has those lovely, intense eyes, and the chiselled features of a fairy-tale prince. As well as, and perhaps even more than, his physical charm, you admire the self-confidence he carries himself with, the pride in his abilities that never falls into arrogance, the strength that exudes from each of his gestures. Having lost his family, with so few friends in the world, he’s a man who is enough to himself, content with his own company, and who never needs to ask for help or for attention - or at least he was, even though you feel you can forgive him now, since the poor man can’t even remember his own name. He’s honourable, brave and resilient, which you must admit you have come to respect and even to admire, and yes, for a while you’ve become aware of how… how fond you are of him, and why shouldn’t you? While your meetings remain sporadic, you’ve known him longer than you have most of your friends, you do appreciate his company and even though you’ve never dared to ask, you know he feels the same, like that time that, after the umpteenth time he had defeated you, he offered you his hand to stand, and you ended up sitting side by side on a wharf, looking at the red sun being swallowed by the waves in front of you, you opened a bottle of prized red wine you had bought to bring back home and Mihawk put his coat on your shoulders, pointing out that it wouldn’t do to have his rival catch a cold before she had another chance to kill him.

“You are making fun of me.”

“Never; not of you. I must admit I came to… relish our fights; I admire how resilient and resourceful you are. Promise me one thing, (name): I’ll always offer you a good challenge, so please never stop chasing me.”

You are pretty sure there was no hidden meaning in those words, but you have found yourself treasuring them, happy and even flattered, ever since; the fact that Mihawk considers you a worthy opponent, like pirates of the calibre of Red-Haired Shanks, is reason to rejoice… even though you can’t help wishing there was a hidden meaning Mihawk was trying to communicate with those words…

Oh, grandfather; if only you could see me! I fell for it, and I can’t even bring myself to feel sorry. What do I have to do now?

And now he has kissed you. You have done your best to stop thinking about it, because it was no doubt the impulsive gesture of a sick, confused man, without any particular meaning behind it, and Mihawk has apologised for it - which meant he regretted it. Nonetheless, you can still feel the warmth of his mouth on your lips; you reacted by slapping him, almost reflexively, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it - far from it, in fact. This is not a romantic novel like the ones you secretly read as a teenager, and Mihawk is not a wounded soldier who falls desperately in love with the nurse who takes care of him, but it was a very good kiss, and while the wounded and helpless man you met today is as different from your usual rival as he might be, you do feel protective of him, and who knows, perhaps spending time together will lead him to appreciate you as more than a rival. Maybe you’ll become… friends, and one day he’ll come back to your island, not out of need but because he wanted to, to visit you, and…

Yeah, as if.

Suddenly exhausted, you let yourself fall on the chair behind your desk, wishing dearly everything you had to deal with was the annual tax collection, or letters to write, or even an imminent visit of your cousin; instead, you have Mihawk, still weak and needing protection, with the not completely off-chance that the Marines come looking for it, their most formidable officer at the head.

Well, let them come. You don’t want Mihawk to die; you don’t even want to kill him, not since that would mean giving up on your time together, but that’s a matter you’ll have to think about another time. What you know for sure now is that you won’t let Garp and his men harm a hair of Mihawk’s head, at least not until he’s back to his old strength and can defend himself. Gods willing, he’ll soon get his memory back, and then… and then you’ll go back to challenge him, for the years and the decades to come. You can imagine worse ways to spend the rest of your life, and who knows, maybe in the end you’ll kill each other, to be together in death like you have never been in life…

Get a grip, (name); it’s not like you to be so melodramatic, you chide yourself, before picking up your Den Den Mushi once more, to contact your mother’s attendant and ask him to place a call for you.

“Harbourmaster? Good evening, it’s the lady (name). I need you to listen carefully to what I have to tell you, and then to pass it to whoever might have been involved. It concerns the… guest who arrived on our island three days ago.”

The days pass.

Now that Mihawk is aware of the real nature of his and (name)’s relationship, unfortunately as dramatically different from what he had imagined as it could be, the way the woman is treating him now feels almost unreal - that is, like a dear friend and an honoured guest rather than a rival she’s keeping alive and hosting under her roof because she’s too honourable to do otherwise.

They spend time together every day. They have agreed it’s better for Mihawk not to show his face around the island, since the Marines are still looking for him, but no matter how busy she is, since her mother has left for a conference with other lords and ladies in the kingdom’s capital, (name) does her best to keep him occupied, even though he has assured her he doesn’t need to be entertained, especially when she’s already housing and feeding him and taking care of his health, but (name) seems to take her duties as an hostess very seriously - or maybe she appreciates his company, who knows.

At first Mihawk is still weak, which means that he can do little more than walking -slowly- in the gardens and sitting with a book and a cup of tea, but (name), in addition to having told her servants and doctor to take good care of him, seems not to mind keeping him company, even though it means wasting her time. She tells him about their past battles, her frustration at not having been able to best him devoid of bitterness and resentment, as if she enjoyed the challenge more than she desired victory, and of his exploits as a pirate, of the many foes he vanquished, the pirate fleets he destroyed, the countless swordsmen who were defeated or tremble at the simple mention of his name.

There is sincere admiration in her voice as she describes his strength and fame and ability with a sword, and Mihawk orders himself not to feel too flattered, nor to wonder too much about the reason why she knows as much about his life as a sister, or a spouse, would. After all they are rivals, it’s natural for (name) to have studied her prey to better decide how to face him; and yet, what man would not get his hopes up, when a woman knows so much about him she could write his biography?!

She is not less formidable. (name) keeps a detailed register with all her jobs as a bounty hunter, listing the names of the victims, the money they earned her, and the way they were killed; she lets him see it, blushing a bit as if fearing to appear too conceited, and as he turns the pages, full of paper clippings and detailed descriptions -three bullets in the heart; lost derringer, beaten him with a lead pipe; shot from across the square, cut head before anyone could see- he thinks that he must really be an exceptional warrior to have evaded her so many times, and who knows, one day he’ll find the courage to propose they bury the hatchet and rather than a rivalry they form… a partnership…

Wishful thinking, of course; one does not give up on a target they have hunted for years simply because they have housed him for a few days, especially not someone as determined and resilient as (name); part of Mihawk would happily keep that cat-and-mouse game going for the rest of their lives, all for the intimate, chaste pleasure of having that beautiful, kind, steadfast woman as part of his life.

Six days into his stay, Mihakw finally feels strong enough to do more than walking a quarter of a mile or holding a book; (name) is busy in a meeting with the members of her council, so he takes his sword, still placed against the wall in his room the way a broom would be while one is busy with other chores, and carries it to the gardens.

He has no idea what to do, nothing beyond what he can instinctively understand -the pointy end is to be aimed towards the opponent; the hilt is long enough for the user to wield it with both hands- but when he lifts it he feels it much less heavy than a few days ago, and as he swings it around aimlessly, it’s like his arms, his whole body actually, already knew how to move, as if his muscles still remembered what his mind has forgotten. He tries a lounge, then a parry, and suddenly he’s a man in his element again, that beautiful, formidable sword almost singing in his hands, and Mihawk thinks that maybe he’s not the world’s strongest swordsman, not anymore, and not yet until his memories returns, but he does feel better, stronger, more in control, not a victim but a man others respect and fear, master of his own destiny.

He trains for more than an hour, foregoing figures and techniques he can’t remember to simply let his body move for him; in the end he’s tired, his arms aching, his chest and back drenched in sweat, but he’s satisfied and even happy with himself. The last thing he wants is to leave (name), but it wouldn’t be fair to still remain as her guest once he has regained his health, he reflects, and after all he doesn’t particularly need to have regained his memories to take care of himself, especially if he really was a solitary man who lived on an otherwise uninhabited island. He could use a map to return to Kuraigana, and then wait patiently until he remembers who he is; maybe being in his own home, surrounded by his things, will help…

The knife cuts through the air with a hiss, exploding from among the trees behind him; had Mihawk not moved, the blade would have hit him between the shoulderblades - not a deadly wound, but probably enough to tip the already unbalanced scales towards his opponent.

Fortunately, he does move, an instinct he no longer knew he had warning him of the oncoming danger in time to avoid it; he lets the water bottle he had brought with him from the fortress and from which he was drinking avidly fall to the ground, grabs his sword and raises it as he turns around, the black blade easily deflecting the smaller one.

“What the devil…?”

“Shit…!”

The sound of retreating steps makes it clear whoever tried to kill him is running away, but Mihawk is determined not to let them get away; he pursues them, the sword raised above his head, and he only needs to swing it once -the street dancer’s lunge, his brain suddenly informs him, after a mid-step left parry; how does he know? Are his memories returning, or are these common enough terms anyone would know, the way he woke up already knowing what sea and ship and sun meant?- to slaughter his assailant, who a moment later lies at his feet, a deep wound slashing his chest.

Mihawk contemplates the body in front of him, life having already left the man’s eyes; it’s not the first time he kills someone -quite the opposite, according to (name)- but he doesn’t remember ever doing it before, so he should feel something, should he not? Fear, shame, guilt. Why doesn’t he, then? Is it because not even the Gods would condemn him for having defended himself when attacked? Or is there some other reason?

Still, that’s a thought for another day; Mihawk walks back to the fortress, and beckons the first servant he meets. “Please find the lady (name), and ask her to come to the gardens at her earliest convenience.” he says “There is something she needs to see.”

As he expected, (name) has seen enough dead bodies -most of which killed by her- not to throw a fit when confronted with the earthly remains of Mihawk’s victim; she’s more worried that the aggressor, who is clearly not a native of the island, was able to pass the fortress’ borders without raising an alarm.

“Apparently he told the guards he had to deliver a message, and they let him in. Fools.” she murmurs, dark in the face “Mihawk, I am so sorry.”

“You have no fault at all.”

“I disagree; this is my home, and you are my guest. I have a duty to keep you safe.”

Mihawk points out softly that he could never blame her, given everything she has already done for him and especially considering he’s unhurt.

“Thanks the Gods for that. Who is this man?”

“I obviously have no idea. Wait…”

The man has a piece of paper folded in the inside pocket of his jacket; Mihawk opens it, and is not at all surprised to recognize his own bounty poster, with a frankly mind-boggling sum of money listed under his picture.

“He’s a bounty hunter; I should have known.”

“We both should have.” (name) murmurs, dark in the face “But look… there’s something on the back.”

A Den Den Mushi number has been scribbled on the back of the bounty poster; a number (name) recognises as the one belonging to Vice Admiral Garp.

“It’s not the sort of number you simply find in the directory; Garp is sending out bounty hunters looking for you, and he must be convinced you are here.” (name) murmurs “Gods… Mihawk, I’m so sorry. It seems like this island is no longer a safe place for you.”

“If you can give me a map to my island ’ll leave immediately.”

(name) bites her lip; she seems as enthusiastic about his proposal as a convicted man busy digging his own grave. “I really wish it didn’t have to be like this; no one better than me knows how strong and resilient you are, but I don’t like the idea of you living on your own with no memories of who you are. Maybe you shouldn’t return to Kuraigana, the Marines know you live there; I know a few places far away where you could hide…”

“I’m not hiding like an animal in a burrow. Let them come, I will fight them.” Mihawk says, and (name) smiles for a moment, as if his answer had pleased her - as if that was the answer she expected from the man he used to be.

“Then I’ll come with you. I had promised to keep you safe, I’ll keep my word.”

“I can’t ask you that; if the Marines realise you are protecting me, they’ll target you as well.”

“Do you think I care?”

“You should; (name), I…” Mihawk sighs, frustrated, torn between the need to say what he feels and the potentially catastrophic consequences that sincerity might have; he takes her hands, and she lets him, and by now a few servants have approached with a blanket to take the bounty hunter’s body away, but neither notices, neither cares “If something were to happen to you, if I had to put your home and your people in danger, I would never forgive myself.”

He doesn’t add everything you’ve done for me. That is only part of the story and by now he’s more than aware.

A sad smile blossoms on (name)’s lips. “Even when you don’t remember who you are, you can’t help being honourable; it’s like it’s in your blood.” she points out, shaking her head “And I know I can’t change your mind. I… err, I would have come to you soon anyway; I got Shanks’ Den Den Mushi number.”

It wasn’t easy, she tells him, but a person who owed her a favour spotted the Red Haired Pirates on an island they had camped on during their travels; pirates usually don’t give away their contacts easily, well aware of how easy it would be for the Marines to intercept their calls, but when (name)’s contact had mentioned her name, Shanks had apparently given his readily… as if he knew somehow that the woman who had tried for years to kill his friend was someone he could trust.

Neither comments on the matter, but Mihawk takes the slip of paper (name) is offering him. “Thank you, really.”

“Don’t thank me, I don’t even know if it will be of any help. You want to do it now?”

He should leave as soon as he can, for his safety and hers as well, but the temptation of hearing more about his life, about the man he used to be, is too intense to resist. (name) gives him her Den Den Mushi and then she leaves to make sure the bounty hunter is buried quickly, his tomb unmarked in the cemetery of the island’s only jail, a gloomy area known as the Sinner’s camp.

“It’s going to be alright.” she promises softly, her hand resting on his bicep, and Mihawk nods; he’s more worried for her safety than for his own, but he knows (name) wouldn’t be happy to hear that. Or maybe in part she would, who knows…

He looks at the woman’s retreating figure until she has disappeared along the cobbled path that leads to the fortress; then, with a sigh, he reads the number and places the call.

Shanks picks up a moment later. “Hello? Is this (name)?”

“It’s Mihawk.”

“Mihawk! Are you alright?”

“I am not sure.” he confesses “I… well, I think I had an accident…”

He quickly tells his friend the events of the last days, of how he woke up on his ship, reached (name)’s island, and has been her guest ever since. Shanks is shocked, but expresses no alarm in learning Mihawk has been living in the home of a woman who has hunted him down for years.

“So you really… don’t remember anything? Not even your name?”

“Nothing. Just, err… about (name). Her name, and… her face.”

“Did you now…” Shanks muses; Mihawk doesn’t even know what the man looks like, beyond the hair colour he owes his moniker to, but he can feel Shanks is smiling “I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’m not; not that you remembered her, nor that she did her best to protect you.”

“She told me you’ve never met.”

“Never had the pleasure, no. But you’ve told me about her many times and… well. I’m sure you would have done the same for her, had your places been exchanged.”

Mihawk is now sitting on the grass, his legs crossed, not far from the spot his victim lied on a minute ago; he knows he’s alone -specifically, that (name) can’t hear what he’s saying- but his voice instinctively drops to a whisper.

“I’m in love with her, am I not?”

Shanks’ voice is kind as he answers. “You never told me openly, I don’t think you ever would, but… I’m pretty sure you are. You have been for a long time.”

Mihawk covers his face with a hand; he shouldn’t be surprised, and he’s not: what he feels is shame. “I’m a pirate in love with a bounty hunter.”

“Exactly; she’s not a Marine, and from what you’ve told me it’s a job for her, she has nothing specifically against pirates.” Shanks points out; Mihawk has no idea how unreal their conversation feels to the red-haired pirate, his friend openly discussing his feelings and needing comfort for his heartbreak “And since she’s hosting you in her home, risking the wrath of the Marines, I wouldn’t be surprised if she felt the same.”

“She’s simply a decent person who found a half-dead man on her doorstep and felt obliged to nurse him back to health.”

“Mihawk…”

“No; it’s stupid. I have more pressing matters to think about anyway.” he points out with a sigh. He asks Shanks if he has any idea how he ended up in the middle of the Sea, wounded and with no memory of himself, but the red-haired pirate can’t help, although…

“There is something you told me the last time we met, a couple weeks ago; of an invitation you had received. ”

Mihawk tenses. “An invitation for what?”

“I’m sorry, you never told me. But it had to concern the Marines, because you said it was surprising they would strike a deal with someone like you.”

“A deal?”

“A deal. And a few days later, you were… assaulted, I guess, and left for dead. I don’t know, Mihawk; maybe you met with the Marines to discuss some kind of bargain, they didn’t like your answer, and attacked you.”

It’s a reasonable explanation, Mihawk muses, even though there is still so much he ignores, and an hypothesis doesn’t help him decide what to do now that the Marines are after him. Shanks readily offers him protection, to stay with his crew until his memories return, but Mihawk is tired of depending on others for help and safety; he doesn’t even know how to return home, but he’s an adult, and it seems like he still remembers how to fight. He’ll manage.

“I can’t believe you have lost all of your memories.” Shanks murmurs; he feels sincerely saddened, and worried, and Mihawk feels the sudden desire to see him - to meet someone he can trust, and call friend, without wishing things were different “Tell me you at least have your sword with you; it’s huge, with a…”

“... black blade; yes, I have it. It’s beautiful.”

“It really is. Do you remember its name?”

“I don’t; It never occurred to me to ask (name).” Mihawk says, only half-listening; he knows -how?- weapons sometimes have names, like ships and works of art do, but he’s not particularly interested in the one he has chosen for his weapon.

He should be.

“Well, it’s Yoru; I guess you chose it because of the colour of…”

Mihawk has stopped listening.

It’s as violent as a punch to the stomach, and as sudden as a bullet to the head. It’s like a dam has been opened, letting water flow in freely, like a dark room being illuminated when the light is turned on.

His memories come back, with the name of his sword, and so much more than that, being the fuse that, once lit, once spoken, has ignited an explosion in his mind, so painful and overwhelming Mihawk finds himself kneeling and trembling on the grass, his hands to his head as if to protect it from an assault. The Den Den Mushi has fallen to the ground, Shanks’ voice shouting his name, asking what is wrong, if he’s alright, but he barely hears it, because finally it’s happening…

His memories are back, suddenly, clearly, so much that at first he’s overwhelmed, his mind struggling to decipher the sudden onslaught of concepts, images and sounds.

He knows who he is now; where he comes from, his habits and personality and history, and how he ended up lost at Sea. He remembers about Shanks, and (name), how desperately in love he with her has been for years, of how he started practising swordsmanship and then became a pirate; he remembers his home, the melancholic beauty of Kuraigana’s forest and empty beaches, and of how he obtained his beloved sword. He even remembers little things he thought he had forgotten: the first beer of his life, that his master, the lord, let him drink in secret on the way back from his first tournament, which he had won; the dress that (name) wore on the day they first met, simple and practical but whose skirt hugged her hips in a way that even then made his blood boil; that time soon after moving on the island that he slept with the windows open and then woken up to find a forty pounds mandrill on his bed…

And then, of course, he remembers her. Yoru - not the sword, but the woman it was named after, his sister, the only family he ever had, who took care of him and raised him and loved him, who sacrificed her happiness to give him one chance at life, who was so afraid of how dangerous his life as a pirate and a swordsman would be, but who always supported him. His sister, who is dead because of him, because the one time she needed to be protected, he failed her…

She was so beautiful; graceful, unfailingly kind, surely more clever than him. She has been dead for years, but Mihawk feels like he’s losing her again, guilt and shame and pain weighting on him to the point he feels unable to stand; he closes his eyes, but that changes nothing, because what he’s seeing is a memory, by now remote but still limpid is his mind: his sister’s body lying on her bedroom’s floor, the blood staining her dress, her lovely dark eyes still open, as if she were waiting for someone - for him to come save her, as he had promised he would always do when she needed it…

Yoru. Lady Dracule Yoru. Oh, sister of mine, I am so sorry. If only I had been there…

“Mihawk! Mihawk, can you hear me? Are you alright?” Shanks, who has heard him scream, asks, sounding more alarmed by the second through the Den Den Mushi. Mihawk is still shaking as he picks it up, at first struggling to speak: he feels no pain, not in his body at least, but he has screamed, lost control, even though only for a minute, in a way he now knows for sure it had never happened before.

“I’m here.”

“Oh, thank the Gods. What was that? I thought someone had attacked you.”

He’s safe, Mihawk reassures his friend; his memories are back, which is something to celebrate, or at least to feel relief over.

Mihawk feels neither; he sighs, thinking that he had never wanted to forget his sister, but now that he has been confronted once more with the consequences of his mistake, part of him would have happily retained the ignorance.

“I still think you should remain at least a little more.”

“Why? Your doctor said I recovered enough to take care of myself until my wounds are healed.”

“Exactly; you’re still wounded, and the Marines are siccing bounty hunters on you. And it’s so late, you can at least wait until tomorrow morning…”

They are in (name)’s study, where Mihawk has joined her after saying good-bye to Shanks. The woman was happy to learn his memories have returned, but her good mood quickly evaporated when he told her who was responsible for what had effectively been an attempt on his life.

“The Marines are planning on building an alliance with a few selected pirates, who would have to deal with other pirates on their behalf in exchange for the suspension of their bounties. I am not sure of how well it would work, since having to compromise with their sworn enemy would speak volumes about the World Government’s own strength and capacity to fight, but still. I received an invitation to a meeting at the Marines HQ a couple weeks ago; I knew already I wasn’t interested in being the Marines’ lapdog, but I went since I had nothing better to do. As I expected, nothing they had to offer interested me, but when I refused and left… you may say they didn’t take it well.”

“They attacked you.”

“Not exactly; they had put a bomb on my ship, I guess to defuse and take away without me knowing once I had accepted their proposal. That didn’t happen, so I had just left the harbour when the bomb exploded; I got hurt, as you know, but I was able to swim ashore since my ship was sinking. By then the harbour was crawling with Marines, but I was able to steal a ship and sail away. I held it together for a while, but in the end I lost consciousness; when I woke up, my memories were gone.”

And now, everything that needed to be said has been, at least for the time being; silence fills the room, and (name) rests a closed fist under her chin, her eyes pensive.

“Were you heading here?” she asks in the end, turning to look at him; Mihawk could swear the movement looks forced, just a little “To my island, I mean. Considering the tides and the winds in this season, I can’t see how you could have reached it coming from the Marines HQ otherwise.”

Ah; that is a question he should have expected. Mihawk can’t remember he ever blushed in his life, not even after losing an important fight or during his first experiences with women as a youth, but he knows (name) can see he’s ill at ease, and while she’s not the sort of woman who would mock him for it, the knowledge makes him feel exposed, helpless.

The truth is, he was sailing towards her island - towards her. At first simply focused on getting as far as he could from the Marines, letting the wind push the ship he had stolen forward, Mihawk then realised the island (name) lived on, that the woman had once mentioned during one of their encounters, was relatively close. Not knowing what else to do, and well aware he wouldn’t be able to go on much longer weak and wounded as he was, he set a course towards (name)’s home; throwing himself on the mercy of a woman who had done her utmost to kill him countless times was probably foolish, escaping a danger to willingly go meet another, but in an odd, unexplainable way he did trust (name), and knew she would not take advantage of his wounded state to finally put an end to their rivalry. He couldn’t presume to know her feelings, but he was sure she was better than that; and she was, she really was, and now the thought he is going to have to leave her side, putting an end to that unexpected, chaste intimacy that has grown between them, breaks his heart…

(name) is still waiting for an answer; she’s sitting composely, like the refined, well-bred woman she is, hands in her lap -is she wringing them?- her derringer hanging from her waist, her gaze fixed on him.

He could lie; he could find a way to evade the question; he could refuse to answer, since (name) can’t very well force him to speak. But he’s never been the sort of man who avoids confrontations, and she deserves better than that, especially after all she has done for him; apart from that first, awkward attempt of seduction -he had not noticed the gun hidden under her skirt, but (name) had been just a little too eager to be believable as a woman who has simply fallen in lust with a stranger- their relationship has always been frank, honest, respectful even, two rivals who recognise each other’s strength and even admire it despite the danger to their life. Mihawk wonders if he can defame that bond with a lie to save his own face, and quickly decides he can’t.

“I was.”

(name) nods slightly; she doesn’t seem surprised, nor -to Mihawk’s secret disappointment- does her face express any particular emotion, positive or otherwise.

“I see.” she simply murmurs, and her hand rests on the one he has placed on the desk “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay at least until tomorrow? You still need rest, and it’s going to be dark soon. There’s a ship leaving at dawn, I can ask the captain to take you on board and hide…”

“I don’t mind sailing at night; and it will be easier to pass unnoticed if I sail alone.”

(name) sighs. “I guess you’re right.” she concedes, clearly unhappy “Can I at least come with you at the harbour?”

Mihawk says he would be happy if she did; they share a smile, vaguely wistful but not unhappy, and the quiet between them stretches for a while more, the unsaid not needed to be spoken.

Less than an hour later they are at the harbour, the little ship already set to sail; the sun setting behind them is a ball of fire. Mihawk, Yoru once again hanging from his shoulders, considers himself a reasonably articulate man, but he knows he couldn’t describe what he feels, gratitude and yearning and regret, even if he tried, so he doesn’t; he has a strong suspicion that (name) knows already in any case.

(name) has brought a heavy bag from the fortress, that she resolutely pushes in his arms. “Food, bandages, and money. You’ll need them, since it’ll take you days to return to Kuraigana.”

“I can’t…”

“Of course you can; it’s still much less than what I’m going to earn when I’ll finally collect your bounty, so I won’t even ask you to pay me back.”

They share a smile, but (name)’s quickly changes to worry. “I know it sounds ridiculous, given how strong you are, but… take care of yourself, alright? The Marines are still hunting you, and your wounds are not fully healed yet.”

“I’ll be careful. And in a couple days I’ll make myself seen in some place away from here, so Garp will stop suspecting you… and other bounty hunters will leave you alone.”

“That would be helpful; thank you.”

Silence falls again; their eyes meet when Mihawk takes (name)’s hand in his, and he knows that if he tried to kiss her again, she would not slap him. But that would make leaving infinitely harder, and because of this, his lips press on the back of her hand.

“I guess I’ll see you soon.” he murmurs “No doubt, in time to thwart whatever new plan you concocted to claim my head.”

“Laugh all you want, but one day I’m going to catch you off guard…”

She smiles; a brave smile. “Now go.” she urges him gently, not elaborating on what would happen if he lingered only a little bit more; she doesn’t need to. She looks on as Mihawk steps on the ship, and remains on the harbour, her gaze raised towards the small vessel that soon disappears in the encroaching darkness.

(name) looks lovely, happy and smiling and relaxed as she sits on the veranda of an elegant restaurant in the company of a small group of other people, among which is her cousin-in-law, whose birthday the family is celebrating. Mihawk knows none of them, but he has asked discreetly around; he looks on from the street outside the restaurant, well aware that she can’t see him, and he likes that sudden reversal of roles in their menage, him observing her… even though he’s not planning on attempting on her life. Not at all.

The town is celebrating a holiday of some kind, the streets bustling with activity, music, food stands, street artists performing for the crowd under a sky lit with stars; among so much confusion, no one pays any attention to the tall, dark-dressed man waiting patiently, his back resting against a wall, his eyes focused on the outside tables of the fine dining restaurant, yearning in his gaze. Interrupting a family dinner is a discourtesy Mihawk would never lower himself to, and in any case, he's not in a hurry; he's been waiting to talk to (name) for most of the day, a few minutes more make no difference.

So he lingers, until his sharp gaze finally detects the small group leaving the restaurant, (name) arm in arm with her mother; they’re walking in the direction of the harbour, which means Mihawk will soon lose sight of them, but suddenly the youngest member of the dinner party, a boy six or seven years old, stops to observe the stall of a sweets seller. Both (name) and her mother remain with him, but after a brief conversation the older woman departs to join the others.

Mihawk smiles to himself; he has never believed in destiny, but it seems tonight luck is on his side. He waits for (name) and the child to be alone and then approaches, just as the woman is paying for the cotton candy on a stick the child is already biting into.

He doesn’t call her name; he doesn’t need to, because after so many years of hunting him down (name) is now attuned to him, not unlike lovers or parents and children who swear they can feel each other’s presence when they are nearby. She’s talking to the child -I can’t believe you’re still hungry, you finished a four course meal twenty minutes ago!- but then she turns, not in response to a sound or a movement but simply because she has perceived him, and after a moment of incredulity, she smiles at him.

“How did you find me? And don’t tell me you were just passing by.”

“I have my ways. How was dinner?”

“Delicious; even though the wine selection leaves much to be desired. Still, it was my cousin-in-law who chose it…”

The child is now looking up at Mihawk, open curiosity in his eyes; (name) rests her hand on his back to gently push him forward. “Go to your parents, Caspian; say I’m talking to someone, will you?”

The child promises he will; he runs after the rest of his family, the stick of the already reduced in half cotton candy still in his hand. (name)’s eyes follow him until the child’s hand is held securely in his mother’s.

“Your nephew, I gather.”

“He is; thank the Gods he takes after his mother rather than Theon. Now…” (name) smiles, openly amused, as he faces him, her arms to her chest “You haven’t answered my question yet; and more than how, I’d like to know why you came to see me.”

Mihawk sighs; he had known from the start it wouldn’t have been easy. “I think you know it already.”

“Maybe I do; but I don’t want to seem presumptuous, and sometimes things just need to be said.”

“Even between us, after all this time? I don’t think so.”

“Mihawk…”

Gods, just the way she has to say his name is enough to drive him crazy. They walk unhurriedly for a few minutes, leaving the chaos of the festivity between them, the silence between them vaguely tense but not unpleasant.

“The Seven Warlords have already started making the news.” (name) points out after a while “Some say they’re on par with the Four Emperors. No regrets about refusing to join?”

“None at all; the day I’ll need the help of the Marines to conduct my business will be the day I’ll give up pirating and devote myself to tilling the land on Kuraigana.”

“Would you really do it?”

“I actually do it already. The soil is fertile, and I can’t spend all day training, can I?”

(name) smiles. “I guess not.” she concedes “And thank you for letting the Marines see you far away from the island; I spoke to Garp two days ago, when I went to cash a new bounty, and I’m pretty sure he no longer suspects me.”

“It’s good to hear that. (name)...”

He stops, and she stops with him; they have reached a quieter part of the town, a small park empty save for a couple walking their dog and a mother pushing her child on a swing. Still, it’s four people more than what Mihawk would have wanted given the discussion they need to have, but he knows that this is as good a chance as he can get, and in any case he’s tired of waiting. “I wanted to ask whether you plan on attacking me again.”

“Why? Afraid you’re starting to slip, and that next time I could actually get you?”

Mihawk smiles; two can play this game, my beauty. “That will never happen; but I can’t help wondering if there’s another reason why you keep pestering me.” he points out innocently “After all there are so many other powerful pirates in the world, but you only seem to have eyes for me; and I could swear that the last few times we met, you were more interested in talking than in attempting on my life. Either you're slipping, or…”

He was trying to get under her skin, and he succeeded. “I am not slipping!” (name) protests “And no self-respecting bounty hunter would give up on a bounty simply because…”

Mihawk's patience has reached its limits; his self-control is already beyond that. “(name).”

“... because they struggle to…Yes?”

“Please, tell me I can kiss you.”

She stares at him, and for a moment Mihawk could wage his life he's in for another slap; then, the woman in front of him smiles, and rather than answering, she throws her arms around his neck and presses her mouth to his.

Several minutes pass before either is able to speak again; by that time, Mihawk's back is pressed against the trunk of a tree, (name)’s soft and warm body held in his arms. For a full minute they can do nothing but breathe, sharing their air, almost sharing their heartbeat.

“The reason why I kissed you… the day we met on your island…”

“It’s alright; you've apologised already, you don't need to…”

“I do. The truth is… I didn't do it because I was confused, or because I had mistaken you with another person.” Mihawk murmurs; his mouth is a breath away from (name)’s ear as he holds her in his arms, and he can feel her shiver in his arms as he speaks “Rather, it was because when I woke up… I didn't simply remember your name and your face, and nothing else; in my mind, there was a… a dream, I think you can call it, or a fantasy, because it never happened, even though I had mistaken it for a memory. That is why I reacted… that way.”

(name) looks at him; her fingers have started playing with his hair, the touch delicate but unmistakably sensual. “A fantasy that had to do with me?”

“... yes.”

“A fantasy that made you think I’d appreciate being kissed by you?”

Mihawk sighs. “Now you're making fun of me.”

“I'm sorry. I want to know more about this dream of yours, and… to be honest, I have something to confess too.”

She bites her lip; suddenly she’s flushing, and in Mihawk’s mind kissing is no longer enough - he needs to lie her down on the grass and make her scream. “I never started losing interest in claiming your bounty, and I certainly never started slipping.” she points out softly “But I must admit… I started looking forward to our meetings for more than the opportunity to finally beat you. You started occupying my thoughts more and more… and in the end I realised it was no longer just work; you were no longer just work, maybe you had never been. My grandfather would be so disappointed…”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. I… I don’t want to kill you; surely not for your bounty, and not for any other reason either. I’d rather have you alive, healthy, safe… and preferably close enough I can meet you when we both want to.”

Silence.

“You have nothing to say?”

“Well, I’d also rather be alive.”

(name) scoffs. “Now you’re making fun of me…”

They smile. Their foreheads touch. Their embrace lingers. A question is asked softly, a nod given in response; (name) only needs to call her relatives to say they can depart without her.

They take their time setting off to the harbour. “Where are we going?” (name) asks after a while; they’re walking side by side, their hands brushing against each other.

“To Kuraigana. I’ve seen your home, you should see mine.”

“I’d like that. But I only have one change of clothes with me.”

“It’ll be more than enough, believe me; you will need no clothes for a while.”

(name) smiles. “Hmm, good to know…” she murmurs; Mihawk grins, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Darkness envelops them as they walk.