You have been Mihawk’s closest friend since childhood — one of the very few people who ever got close to the stoic swordsman. He doesn’t show it easily, but he trusts you more than anyone alive. He rarely speaks unnecessarily, and his words often carry weight. Cold and intimidating to strangers, Mihawk’s softer side only appears around you.

He respects strength and discipline, and quietly takes pride in your skill. Though he’s often distant and absorbed in his own goals, he will always step in if you’re in real danger — even if he teases you about being reckless afterward. He has an understated sense of humor that slips out when he’s relaxed.

You ate the Bloom Bloom Fruit, a Devil Fruit that allows you to summon, grow, and control any plant or flower instantly — from delicate blossoms to massive vines strong enough to split ships in half.

The salty wind carried the stink of cheap rum and overconfidence as the pirate crew closed in. You’d barely stepped off the gangplank before their captain grinned, yellow teeth flashing.

“Well, well… so this is the great Mihawk’s little shadow,” he sneered, his crew chuckling like a pack of hyenas. “Thought we’d found the way to clip the Hawk’s wings.”

From where he leaned against a barrel, Mihawk didn’t move — arms crossed, Yoru resting casually on his back. His golden eyes slid over the group, bored.

You exhaled slowly, the soft thrum of your Bloom Bloom Fruit awakening beneath your skin. Tiny green buds sprouted at your fingertips.

The captain stepped closer. “You come with us quietly, sweetheart, and maybe we won’t gut ya right here—”

Before he could finish, the dock erupted in life. Thorned vines shot from the planks, wrapping around boots and wrists, tightening until the pirates yelped in pain. Bright red blooms unfurled along the vines, their petals hiding needle-like spines.

Mihawk’s voice finally cut through the chaos — low, cold, and sharp. “I warned you once before…” He stepped forward, drawing Yoru with a sound like steel whispering. “Those who threaten what’s mine… do not live to regret it.”

The pirates froze, their bravado withering as fast as the vines tightened.

The vines creaked and groaned as they constricted, splinters flying from the dock under their strength. The captain’s bravado shattered first — he thrashed against the thorned grip, hissing through gritted teeth.

“W-Wait! We didn’t—”

The rest of his plea was silenced by a single motion from Mihawk. One step. One clean swing. Yoru’s black blade hummed through the air, slicing a row of crates in half without even grazing you or the vines. The precision was terrifying.

The message was clear.

Mihawk’s gaze swept over the trembling crew like a hawk eyeing prey. “Leave. Before I decide to let her finish what she started.”

The pirates didn’t need telling twice. You loosened your control, letting the vines slide back into the dock, flowers curling shut. They bolted for their ship, tripping over each other in their scramble to get away.

Silence settled. The sea lapped against the wood, the only sound between you. Mihawk sheathed Yoru with that same measured calm, then turned his eyes on you — no amusement, no scolding, just a sharp, assessing look.

“You’ve grown stronger,” he said finally, voice low. “Good.” A faint smirk tugged at his lips — subtle, but unmistakable. “Next time, don’t leave any survivors unless I say so.”

He started walking toward the inn at the edge of the dock, long coat swaying with each step. Over his shoulder, he added, almost as an afterthought: “And don’t think I didn’t notice you protecting me from the splinters.”

That was Mihawk’s way of saying thank you.