#mihawk harem

“You’re getting better, kid,” Rayleigh said with a grin as he clashed swords with you.

You didn’t say anything but let a small smile on your lips as you twisted your wrist to push the blade away from you. You dodged a jab and blacked a thrust. Your observation haki lets you know the next few moves in the next few seconds, allowing you prepare and counter these attacks. It’s been a good while since you joined the Roger Pirates and you’ve learned a lot from them.

First of all, they’re very jolly. And loud.

But you should’ve expected that from a captain known to have smiled at his execution and started the new generation of pirates.

At times you found yourself wincing at the volume, but it was easy to get accustomed to them. Shanks likes to cling to you, demanding a spar despite your refusal, yet is not deterred or angry at your dismissal. If anything, he seemed to cling on to you more. When you’re practicing your stances, he’s there, practicing beside you or watching you instead. You take it as childish admiration.

Buggy, on the other hand, is more weary of you. Anytime you’re around him, you would notice a bead of sweat and his nervous glances at you before skedaddling out of your sight. You take no offense to this. Scared children are nothing new to you.

However, Buggy seemed to have gained courage from Shanks.

As you were wiping the sweat off your brow with a towel handed to you by Gaban, now you remember his name, Buggy approached you nervously. He approached you like you were a predator. You were amused and slightly confused as he stopped in front of you. “What is it?”

The clown sweat, eyes averting before mustering to look into your own. “Could…could you teach me how to use a knife?”

You raised a brow, “You want to learn how to wield a dagger?”

Buggy nodded, uncertain.

Hmm, if I remember correctly, the clown primarily uses daggers with his devil fruit. But he doesn’t have it yet, and he’s still too young to be holding weapons…Although, if I were to help him in the near future, perhaps he would make an interesting pirate. And maybe I’ll respect him more when Cross Guild is formed, which won’t be a good while.

After your internal debate, you sheathe your sword. “When you’re older, you can’t hold one without cutting yourself.”

“But Shanks is already learning!”

“I’m not teaching him, he’s learning by watching me. Also, he’s using a stick, not a real blade.”

Buggy pouted in anger, face turning almost as red as his nose. You rolled your eyes before ruffling his head, messing his hat much to his protest. “You have time so don’t rush, there are other ways to fight without full-on confrontation.”

“Con-frantotion?” Buggy scrunched his face at trying to pronounce the word. You forgot he’s six.  You combed your hair with your fingers, “Never mind.” you dismissed before walking away.

“Hey! Tell me what that means!”

“When you know more words.”

“I can read!”

“That’s not what I asked.”

_*_

This would be the third marine base you would enter. The third marine base you would destroy. Perhaps a normal nine year old wouldn’t be able to, but you were armed with knowledge of haki, the swords skills that you learned from your previous masters, and a bloodthirst that rivalled the devil.

The sand under your shoes crunched as yout rugged through the desert, sheathe and sword on your back, and sweat poured down your forehead like a river. Even with your light clothes and shorts, it was unbearably hot under the scorching heat of the sun. The knife in your pocket and the satchel over your shoulder were reminders on why you’re trekking this damned desert.

Up ahead, a desert city where water filled the rivers and canals, people of Alabasta descent milled around as marine soldiers march for patrol. The cloth you used as a blindfold and headwrap covered your hair and eyes while the loose long sleeve shirt hid your skin from the sun. With the observation haki you have, you walked through the city with no interruption, heading straight to the base. You hear the fearful chatter as marine soldiers marched past, you hear the pleading of citizens as a marine taunts and ppose his authority over them, you hear the bugging from a man as he’s dragged away for something he hadn’t done.

Corrupt. It’s a coincidence that you’re about to destroy the marines here when the city needed it. 

Later, you learned that marines here were all talk; all bark and no bite. They fell way to a mere nine year old with a sword, not standing a chance. You wonder if this what it meant to find it boring when other can’t challenge you anymore…

You destroyed crates and raided chests in hopes to find any resources you could use. At one point you found a devil fruit in a chest, it’s texture sandy. You regarded it with half-lidded eyes before putting it in your satchel. You then headed down in the dungeon, where the admiral might be. When you entered the admiral’s office, it was empty sans the guards there.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the dark and dry dungeon, the door creaking as you moved it. And with your knife, you blocked bullet that was shot your way. Its other half grazed your head yet you remained composed. You then moved–in the dark with only torches that almost dimmed, you dodged frantic bullets and with a lunge, you embbededth knife deep into his chest, right where his heart is. You pulled back and heard him fall to the ground with a thud.

Seeing as you have no need for the clothe, you undid the knot at the back and it fell away letting light shine on your eyes. Your hair came free, curls running wild as you ran a hand through your strands. You then scoured the cells, landing on civilians who were either poor or orphaned kids. 

You were then reminded of your island before the buster call…

You rummaged through the man’s clothes before finding the key to the cells. You hummed in satisfaction before going to free the people here, one by one. All shouted joyously at their freedom, kids clinging to your clothes as they say their thanks and cried while the adults expressed their gratitude to you. You say nothing to this.

The last cell held a boy  bit older than you. His hair was shoulder-length and eyes were narrow, a scar that bled across his nose, and ragged clothes not unlike your own. He was the only one who glared at you even as you unlocked his cell. 

A tingle at the back of your skull, a feeling of recognition yet it was vague. You ignored it before turning to leave–

“Wait.”

You paused glancing back at the boy in the cell.

“Have you seen a devil fruit in this shithole?”

Suddenly, it clicked for you.

Wordlessly, you took out the devil fruit in your satchel and threw it in the hands of Crocodile. “Take it, I have no use of it.”

You leave before the soon to be Sand-man could reply.

_*_

You felt a large hand ruffle your hair, making you glare at the old man for the umpteenth time. “Stop that.”

Rayleigh smiles back at you, “Oh, why not?”

“It’s annoying.”

“Well I can’t help it, your curls are so cute!”

You kicked his shins. “Old man.”

“Respect your elders, kid.”

“Old man.”

“Brat.”