Falaise

Intimacy

Buggy was awake before the sound of clashing swords arose from the training field. Refusing to be caught unprepared this time, he dressed in clothes fitting for physical training.

Face washed but devoid of makeup, Buggy stepped outside of his room, making a short trip to the kitchens to grab something to snack on before the training. It was only once he was finished eating, and all the evidence of food had been concealed, that he finally got going.

Both men were already here, Crocodile sitting on the floor, sharpening his hook, and Mihawk carefully selecting blades from a stack of old swords.

They greeted him with a nod when they spotted him, and Buggy thought about how he was glad to see that they were comfortable enough around him to not feel the need to stop whatever they were doing with his arrival.

Mihawk was the first to stop what he was doing, coming to meet Buggy, handing him a sword which had seemingly passed whatever test he had submitted the blades to.

'Alright, Duke. Now is the time for questions. I witnessed your technique the other day, and I wonder. Who trained you?'

Buggy grasped the weapon Mihawk handed him by the guard, weighing it up. Looking up from the blade, he stared at the swordsman. 'Sometimes Roger, and occasionally Scopper Gaban, but mostly Silvers Rayleigh.

Mihawk seemed to think for a few seconds before he nodded. 'I can see that. You're stealthy and have some clever strikes, but the lack of recent training has dulled your speed and strength. But nothing unsalvageable. I'll train you, just to avoid Silvers Rayleigh's teachings to go to waste.'

Buggy scoffed. 'Anything to hide the possibility of you just doing something out of the kindness of your heart, huh?'

It was Crocodile's turn, silent until now, to snigger. 'Kindness? In Hawk Eyes' heart? You're losing your mind, Jester.'

Mihawk chose to ignore them both. He got into position, pointing his sword to Buggy's chest. 'Come to me, then. See if that training is that unnecessary.'

The blue-haired man sighed, complying. 'I never said it was unnecessary.'

Not answering, Mihawk charged at him. Buggy blocked the hit easily, stepping back, charging immediately.

They exchanged blows for a while, Mihawk occasionally giving advice to Buggy. He made him adjust his posture and reinforce his balance, and highlighted how he would need to improve his strikes and stance.

The training was tiring, to say the least. Buggy ended up with small cuts all across his body. The Duke really had the feeling that Mihawk was not holding his blows back. Not that he would have wanted to, but he had expected so. He should have known better.

But still, it was good training. Buggy was starting to wonder when he would be allowed to take a break, when Mihawk paired his attack with more strength than before. Thrown off balance, Buggy tumbled backward. Pulling a face, he closed his eyes, waiting to hit the floor.

Except it didn't come. He pried his eyes open, only to realise that Mihawk's face was the only thing visible in his field of vision, dangerously close. He also noticed the hand down his back, and the surprised look in the swordsman's eyes.

Before any of them could say anything, they heard a cracking sound, and turned their heads in time to see the sword in Mihawk's grip break into pieces and tumble to the floor.

Mihawk let go of him, and the blue-haired man stepped away. Busying himself to avoid thinking about what just happened, Buggy decided to inspect his clothes, noting the cuts' locations and cringing when he realised that he would have to bring it to his seamstress and would have to explain to her that he had the brilliant idea of wearing her work during a sword fight. A delightful moment in the making, he was sure of it.