There were only a few things Mihawk enjoyed more than relaxing in a warm bath after practice. He kept his eyes closed, allowing the silence to lull him into a state of calm. If it weren't for the sudden, aggressive bang against the door of his castle, he might have fallen asleep. Mihawk pressed his lips together in annoyance, stepped out of the bath still dripping wet, and grabbed a robe to check out what—or who—was bothering him so late at night.

He should have expected it, because no one else would dare trespass on his territory other than the red-haired man in front of him. As usual, seeing the grin painted on Shanks’ face was like staring at the sun itself: it was too bright and made Mihawk scowl.

“I was nearby and decided to pay a visit to my friend,” he exclaimed, holding a bottle of sake toward Mihawk. His annoyance only grew. “Friends” was not the word he would use to describe their relationship. They had shared some run-ins and friendly duels in the past, but they were nowhere near close enough for Shanks to just show up at his residence with his whole crew in tow to hang out.