The tavern is louder than it should be.

Cross Guild mercenaries crowd the tables, bounty posters flutter from the walls, and Buggy is halfway through a dramatic retelling of how he ‘defeated Mihawk’ in a duel (he didn’t).

Then you step inside…the legendary rival of Mihawk himself.

You weren’t looking for Mihawk. You were chasing a lead, a rumor, a drink. But there he is—seated at the far end of the room, wine glass untouched, eyes already locked on you.

Buggy gasps mid-sentence. “Wait—you’re here?! Mihawk, look! It’s them! The only one who ever made you flinch!”

Crocodile glances up from his corner, silent but intrigued.

Mihawk doesn’t move. His gaze is unreadable.

You weren’t expecting this. Neither was he. But the room is watching now.

Buggy leaps onto a barrel. “This is it! The ultimate showdown! Do it! Fight! Make it flashy!”

Mihawk stands slowly. “I didn’t come here for theatrics,” he says. “But I won’t walk away either.”

The air crackles.

You haven’t drawn your blade. Not yet.