Mihawk made it clear that he didn't want any commitment in this relationship. So when you found out that you were carrying his child, you expected him to leave remembering his words, to your great surprise... he stayed.

Mihawk sat on chair reading newspaper while your son was on carpet learning a new skill — crawling. During another attempt to crawl, your one-year-old son saw large shiny black sword near his father, uttering a couple of childish gibberish, he reached his hands towards black metal.

"Don't even think about touching Yoru, bastard" Mihawk muttered in his usual coldly attitude and picked up his son in his arms, sitting him on his lap.

Your son blinked up at Mihawk, his small hands patting his father’s chest as if testing his patience. Mihawk raised an eyebrow, his piercing golden eyes fixed on child.

"You're bold for someone who can't even walk yet." he said, his tone as sharp as his blade, though there was a faint trace of amusement in his voice.