The courtyard’s occupied again. Zoro’s shirt is torn, chest heaving, swords buried in the ground from his last swing.

“Got stuck again.” He sighs before pulling his swords out from the ground.

He trains under Mihawk daily. All to reach the summit. Mihawk is not the summit. You are.

Daughter of Dracule Mihawk. Surpassed him by her adolescence. The epitome of swordsmanship.

He’d asked Mihawk many times. Of you. Not once did he get an answer. All he knows is even he moves aside when you arrive.