"Run! That bastard—just one slash—one slash and he—!"
"So this is the Grand Line…"
"No—that man—that's Hawk-Eyes! That's Hawk-Eyes Mihawk!"
"Damn it, what did we ever do to you?!"
The wailing of his crew filled Krieg's ears. He was terrified too, but he gritted his teeth and kept barking orders.
As the one who'd caused all of this, he knew perfectly well what had happened. But he was their captain—he couldn't exactly tell them that he'd laughed at the wrong person and gotten them all killed for it.
A lifetime spent terrorizing the East Blue had made him genuinely believe that his strength could dominate even the New World. He had simply not imagined that the world contained someone who could split a full warship in half with a single swing.
"Lucky." Mihawk observed.
To his credit, Don Krieg had a few things going for him—not strength, not by any measure that applied outside the East Blue, but he'd managed to field a fleet of fifty ships. That counted for something, organizationally.
"What are you doing?" The little cat, having claimed his seat, rocked back and forth with mild curiosity.
"You don't need to know."
Mihawk was certainly not going to tell her he'd just been mocked by a nobody.
Krieg had used the forty-nine escort ships as cover for the flagship's escape—though "cover" was generous, since cutting through forty-nine ships hadn't taken him ten seconds. Krieg had ridden the air pressure from Mihawk's swings to break free of the Calm Belt and, with absurd timing, sailed straight into a downpour.
Strange phenomenon, the Grand Line. Inside the Calm Belt: absolute stillness. Just outside it: the sky opens up like a broken dam. For this sea, that was perfectly ordinary.
Air currents reaching the sky. Islands floating above the clouds. Waterfalls flowing upstream. That was the Grand Line.
…Fine. He hadn't caught Krieg mostly because his little boat simply couldn't keep up.
But the rain answered one question: they'd escaped the Calm Belt too, when he'd cut those ships. Unfortunate that their small vessel had nowhere to shelter from the downpour.
Mihawk lifted his hat and set it on Yimi's head.
"Congratulations, Host, for unlocking the achievement [I'll Keep This Hat Safe for You]. Reward: Teleportation Gate energy +5%."
"?"
She genuinely could not understand how that qualified as an achievement.
She sniffed the air. "There's a weird smell."
"...If you dislike it, feel free to give it back."
But she wasn't talking about the hat at all.
She'd caught something on the wind—a distinct scent that shouldn't have reached her. Her senses in human form weren't normally this sharp, and they were in the middle of a rainstorm at sea.
Yimi tugged his sleeve and pointed toward the debris field of ships that hadn't fully sunk yet. "Over there."
"What for?"
"There's something there."
"You can't go yourself?"
He picked up the black blade and used it to pole the boat over to the wreckage.
Yimi jumped onto the debris, nose working through the air. She zeroed in on a spot and dropped straight into the water.
Mihawk's brow furrowed. He reached down, grabbed her ankle, and hauled her back up upside-down.
"What are you doing?"
He flipped her right-side up—and noticed that the girl who had just been submerged was completely dry.
Impossible ability.
What she was cradling in her arms, though, was unmistakable: a fruit with a distinctive spiral pattern.
"A Devil Fruit?"
It was the source of supernatural power in this world—and inherently low-risk to simply own. The only real danger was eating one without knowing its type; you might end up with a power that was not only unhelpful but genuinely revolting. As commodities, though, they were worth a fortune; even the weakest went for at least 100,000,000 Berries.
It wasn't common knowledge in the peaceful East Blue, but Krieg would have known about Devil Fruits. With a fleet that size, some underling could have found one and stashed it onboard as a normal piece of fruit without the boss ever knowing.
When he saw Yimi open her mouth to take a bite, he snatched it away.
"What are you doing?" She stamped another shoe print onto his shin.
Mihawk grabbed her by the collar, swung her back onto his boat, and held the fruit out of her reach. "One person can only eat one Devil Fruit. You didn't know that?"
"Devil Fruit?" She chewed on her finger, thinking.
She imagined a fruit growing on a tree, swelling larger and larger, until something halfway between a catfish and a frog—some kind of devil—grew out of it.
Kind of gross.
She took the fruit and sniffed it. From a distance it had smelled vaguely appealing, but up close, examined carefully, it was deeply unpleasant.
Mihawk pulled it a little further back. "It tastes like shit. You've probably eaten that before."
"I have not." She raised her tiny fist in protest, then her mouth fell open. "Wait—how do you know it tastes like shit?"
"...Someone told me."
It was common knowledge in the New World. In the New World, Devil Fruit users—still a relative novelty in the rookie waters of the East Blue—were everywhere.
He had not eaten one himself, obviously. While a Devil Fruit granted extraordinary power, it also came with a fatal flaw: seawater and Sea-Prism Stone robbed the user of all strength. For someone who spent his life sailing, that was an unacceptable liability. The power boost was also minimal for someone already at his level—and if you'd already eaten one fruit and ate a second, your body would simply explode.
Hence removing it from her reach before she got curious.
Devil Fruits fell into three categories: Paramecia, Logia, and Zoan.
Logia types were the most coveted in the first half of the Grand Line. A Logia user could transform their body into the corresponding element entirely, bypassing physical attacks—like Admiral Kizaru converting his body into light. Acquire a Logia fruit and you could walk through the first half of the Grand Line without breaking a sweat.
But Armament Haki negated elemental transformation, and in the New World virtually every serious fighter had mastered at least basic Haki. So in the back half of the Grand Line, Zoan types—which directly amplified physical power—actually became more popular.
"The Mythical Zoan you carry is one of the elite among Devil Fruits," Mihawk said. He raised the sail and steered in the direction Krieg had fled, continuing the explanation as they moved. Mythical Zoans fall under the Zoan classification, but they combine Zoan's physical enhancements with enhancements more typical of Paramecia types.
"Hmm." Yimi had never heard any of this before. She raised her hand. "Do the Yonko and Admirals have Devil Fruits?"
"Some do. They also have top-tier Haki. Do you want to learn Haki?"
He watched her—she was sitting in his chair again, legs swinging—and didn't bother to evict her, leaning against the prow himself.
He'd expected the girl who had set her sights on the Yonko to light up with interest. Instead she crossed her arms like a tiny adult and gave him the most dismissive look he'd ever seen on a child.
Because out of everything Mihawk had explained, she'd only retained one line: Devil Fruit users are weakened by seawater.
"?"
He could not for the life of him work out what was going through her head.
Mihawk stood, swept the immediate area with his Observation Haki to confirm they were truly alone, then said: "Turn around and cover your ears."
"Why?" The little cat immediately grabbed her Devil Fruit and shoved it into her storage space, apparently convinced he was about to steal it.
"I need to use the bathroom."
"Oh." She turned around and covered her ears.
...
The tedious journey continued.
Going several days at sea before spotting land was completely normal, and no matter how lazy Yimi was on dry ground, confinement on a boat this small for that many days left her with nowhere to put her energy.
Eventually—she'd lost count of which day—they passed through the Reverse Mountain at the Red Line and crossed into the weakest of the Four Blues: the East Blue.
By then, Yimi had been climbing the walls so badly that Mihawk gave up on salvaging his pride for now and docked at a nearby island to resupply.
After he disembarked, the little cat refused to follow.
"You're not coming?"
"Nope." She took several small steps away from him.
Going shopping with Dog-Eyes means carrying his bags.
Mihawk didn't press her. He turned and walked off.
"Don't talk to strangers."
Given Yimi's bizarre and formidable ability, he wasn't worried about her safety.
Not that she was capable of staying on the boat.
The moment he was gone, she stretched her legs and started running toward town.
This was her first time in a populated area in this world, and her first impression was startling—roughly half the people around her looked bizarre. Heads bigger than their bodies. Massive torsos on stick-thin legs. Arms that hung to the knees. People nearly three meters tall.
This was even weirder than having four ears.
Because some of them had red noses.
"Red nose!" she blurted out, pointing directly at one.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RED NOSE?!"
Buggy the Clown. Bounty: 15,000,000 Berries. User of the Chop-Chop Fruit, which let him split his own body into independent floating pieces and made him immune to being sliced.
He hated being called red-nose more than anything in the world. Even a single syllable that sounded remotely like it could set him off.
Buggy leaped around like an actual circus clown. "Where did this brat come from?! What are you all standing there for?! Get her!"
At his command, several underlings who looked like escaped circus performers closed in with unsettling smiles. "Don't be scared, little one. I'll take you to see some pretty goldfish."
"Mrow!"
The gaunt, skeletal Stand erupted from behind Yimi's back.
"What the—is that some kind of bodyguard? For a little girl?"
"Ngh—!!"
The fist wasn't large. But it connected with the lead man's face so hard it rearranged his features and launched several teeth into orbit.
"Wait—"
Force: B. Speed: A. The barrage landed without mercy, and on sheer stats alone the Stand sent the entire circus crew stumbling in every direction.
"Pathetic." Buggy sneered at his fallen men and turned back to Yimi, daggers slotted between each finger, twirling them with a flourish in front of her Stand.
His limbs split apart and began orbiting his body independently. "Tough luck for you—I, the great Buggy, am a Devil Fruit user…"
"You have a Devil Fruit?" Yimi pointed at him, eyes wide.
"Now that you know who you're dealing with, start beg—"
"Hold on." She held up a hand to cut him off, then broke into a sprint—little legs pumping furiously—straight toward the shore.
Buggy blinked. Then let out a laugh that echoed down the street and took off after her.
"Running away now is a little late! I'm going to catch you and sell you—"
He didn't get to finish the sentence.
Yimi had stopped at the water's edge. She'd pulled out a strange-looking gun from somewhere, pointed it at the ocean, and held it there for two seconds. Then she turned it around and aimed it at him.
"?"
She glanced down at the water gun she'd drawn from her last world and cranked the output to maximum.
The jet that came out hit like a fire hose.
It swallowed Buggy completely—and he felt his entire body go limp, suddenly unable to move a muscle.
While he was pinned, Yimi produced the Spear of Longinus, kept the water gun trained on him with one hand, and started hammering his forehead with the spear's shaft.
Devil Fruit users are weakened by seawater.
Not far away, Mihawk—who hadn't gone very far at all—watched the whole thing unfold.
"..."
So that's what that look meant.