"Mihawk?!"
Shirakawa's voice rose the moment he said those three words.
"What? You know my senior brother?" Jora asked in confusion. Otherwise, why would Shirakawa react like that?
"I don't know him. It's just that the name sounds strangely familiar."
How could it not be familiar?
Mihawk was one of the characters in One Piece who had left the deepest impression on Shirakawa. The World's Strongest Swordsman, the ultimate goal of all swordsmen.
The only question was whether the Mihawk Jora mentioned was the same Mihawk Shirakawa knew.
"Then where's your senior brother? Is he still here?"
Jora shook his head. "He left a month ago. Said he wanted to pursue stronger swordsmanship and challenge every powerful swordsman in the world."
"Is that so?"
The more Shirakawa heard, the more certain he became that this senior brother of Jora's was the future Hawk-Eyes Mihawk.
Thinking of that, Shirakawa could not help looking at Jora a little strangely. His senior brother had gone on to become the World's Strongest Swordsman, but this junior brother seemed completely unknown on the seas.
Either he had not yet made his debut, or he had died somewhere along the way.
Whichever it was, he clearly fell far behind his senior brother.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jora asked, feeling a little creeped out under Shirakawa's gaze.
"Nothing."
"You're weird."
Jora muttered to himself, then ignored Shirakawa and continued walking toward home.
It had to be said, Jora's house was in an extremely remote part of the village, halfway up the mountain. According to Jora, this place had been chosen by his master.
"Is your master strong?"
"Of course. He taught me all my swordsmanship. I've never seen anyone stronger than my master."
"Really?"
A battle-hungry feeling stirred inside Shirakawa. Fighting powerful swordsmen was what he enjoyed most right now.
"Master, I'm back."
With that, Jora pushed open the door. Inside was an old man basking in the sunlight, lazily fanning himself with a hand fan.
At a glance, the old man looked to be only about 1.2 or 1.3 meters tall, extremely small and slight. He showed none of the bearing of a strong man at all, much like Rayleigh living in retirement on Sabaody Archipelago twenty years later.
"Back already, Little Jora? How'd it go?" Jora's master did not even open his eyes. His short legs shook as he casually asked.
"I lived up to expectations. I took first place."
"Mm, very good. At least you didn't embarrass me."
Then his master opened one eye and looked in Jora's direction.
"What's with the injury on you? Don't tell me there was actually someone at that swordsmanship tournament who could hurt you."
Logically speaking, truly strong swordsmen would not even bother to take part in that sort of competition. With Jora's strength, he should have been able to crush those opponents with ease.
"No, Master. The injury on me was caused by the person beside me."
"Oh?"
Jora's master opened both eyes now, and a trace of interest appeared in the way he looked at Shirakawa.
Shirakawa, meanwhile, felt a little awkward.
Admitting in front of his master that his disciple had been injured by me?
Still, before Shirakawa could think too much about it, Jora's master's figure disappeared from the rocking chair. Shirakawa sensed something instantly, drew his blade in one motion, and raised it in front of himself.
Sure enough.
Jora's master appeared right in front of Shirakawa, swinging the fan at him like a blade. The wooden fan had already turned pitch-black, clearly coated in Armament Haki.
Shirakawa gave no ground either. He wrapped his sword in Armament Haki as well, and blade and fan clashed together, locking into a stalemate.
Seeing that he could not suppress Shirakawa, Jora's master stepped back.
"Not bad, kid."
With both hands behind his back, Jora's master praised Shirakawa.
"Thank you for going easy on me, Senior."
Shirakawa gave a slight bow.
That brief clash may have looked ordinary, but in truth, Shirakawa had already used more than half his strength. As for the other side, it felt as though he had not even used thirty percent.
"Heh. But the matter of you injuring my disciple won't be settled that easily."
"Master, there's no need."
The moment he heard those words, Jora hurried to speak up. He did not want his master avenging him. If he had a grudge, he wanted to settle it himself.
"Stand aside. This isn't your place to talk."
Hearing his master's scolding, Jora put on a wronged expression.
Now he understood.
His master was not really trying to avenge him at all.
"Then Senior, what do you propose?" Shirakawa asked.
"Fight me once."
Jora's master smiled as he spoke, though that smile looked more like someone whose scheme had succeeded.
"Fine. No problem."
The moment Shirakawa agreed, Jora's master smiled even more broadly.
Jora's master's name was Orr. In the past, he had also been an extremely formidable Great Swordsman. Later, he retired here into seclusion, but as the years passed, he began craving a real battle more and more.
Unfortunately, he had waited here for a long time and never met anyone who could exchange more than a few moves with him. With no other choice, he shifted his focus to teaching disciples instead.
So he had taken in two talented students.
One was Dracule Mihawk.
The other was Ural Jora.
But both of his disciples still needed time to grow.
Then, when he saw Shirakawa, the thought buried in his heart began to stir again. Shirakawa looked like a very capable swordsman, someone who should at least be able to draw out some of his strength.
Orr walked into the house and came back out carrying a sword.
The blade was over a meter long, yet in his hands, it did not look the least bit out of place.
Even though the difference between his own height and the sword's length was less than thirty centimeters.
"Master is getting serious."
Seeing his master draw a blade, Jora muttered under his breath. This was the first time he had ever seen his master use a sword in battle.
That meant he had still underestimated Shirakawa's strength.
"This blade is one of the Twenty-One Great Grade Blades. Its name is Sea Burial. It has fought by my side for many years. I never thought there would come a day when I'd use it again."
"A Great Grade Blade..."
Shirakawa repeated the words inwardly. Its grade was one level above his own weapon.
Still, that was no big problem.
Orr looked at the sword in his hand, and a trace of nostalgia appeared in his eyes, as if he had recalled the days when he roamed the seas, splitting mountains with a stroke and severing the ocean with a slash.
Shirakawa did not rush him.
He too was adjusting his own state.
There was no doubt that Orr stood at the level of a Great Swordsman. This was the first time Shirakawa would be formally fighting one.
He was a little nervous.
But even more than that, he was excited.
"Kid, are you scared? Your hand's shaking so badly."
Orr looked at Shirakawa and said.
And he was right.
Shirakawa's hand really was trembling violently.
"Scared? Impossible. This is excitement. I've faced opponents stronger than you before. Why would I be afraid of you?"
"In that case, good."
Orr smiled faintly.
"Are you ready?"
"Of course."
/-\
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