beloved daughter of the sea

a witch's deal

Just as Zoro finished his impassioned speech, Hawkeye Mihawk turned on his heel, his long black coat swirling dramatically in the wind as he began to walk away, exuding an air of indifference. But you weren't finished yet. There was still more to be said—more to be done.

"Hawkeye Mihawk! Let's strike a deal!" Your voice rang out, clear and resolute, cutting through the thick tension that hung in the air like an impending storm.

He paused, his stride halting for just a fraction of a second, a subtle acknowledgment that you took as permission to continue. "I'll fight you! And in return, you'll help protect the ship I call home!"

Mihawk turned his head ever so slightly, just enough for you to catch the sharp glint of his eyes beneath the shadow of his hat. Those eyes—cold, piercing, and calculating—now bore into yours, weighing your worth. "And what makes you think I'll want to fight you?" His voice was low, almost a growl, dripping with a calm yet undeniable menace.

This was it—your one chance. Every fibre of your being screamed at you to make this moment count. You clenched your fists, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say. "I know you're here because you're bored," you declared, forcing confidence into your voice. "I promise I can give you an entertaining fight."

Mihawk's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered with something—curiosity, perhaps, or amusement. "Do not make promises with no proof to back them," he warned, his tone chillingly calm, as if daring you to present your evidence.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your racing heart. "Is this proof enough for you?" The secret you had kept buried for months now clawed its way to the surface. Revealing it now could change everything—but you had no choice. Your family's safety was worth the risk.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to become one with the rhythm of the ocean—the gentle rise and fall of the waves that cradled the ship. Slowly, you raised your arms, feeling the water respond to your call, its energy pulsing through you like a heartbeat. Even without looking, you could sense it—liquid tendrils mimicking your movements, growing in size and power. Gasps echoed around you as the onlookers realised what was happening.

When you finally opened your eyes, you directed your gaze at Mihawk. His usual stoic expression cracked, revealing a flicker of surprise as he watched the watery hands materialise, mimicking your own gestures as if they were extensions of your body.

"Fight me," you commanded, your voice firm and unwavering, carrying the weight of your challenge.

Mihawk was intrigued. Not five minutes ago, you had swum at a speed most would deem impossible to save the upstart swordsman who had dared to challenge him. And now, you were displaying powers that defied everything known about the Devil Fruits. Everyone knew that the ocean rejected Devil Fruit users—so the fact that you could swim and command the water? It was a paradox, an impossibility.

His hand, gripping the hilt of his black blade, Yoru, twitched with anticipation. It had been so long since anyone had stirred his interest. The last person who had brought even a semblance of excitement to his life had been the red-haired Yonko. But with one arm gone, that battle was nothing more than a distant memory. Could it be that, after all this time, Mihawk had finally found someone who could challenge him again?

Raising his sword with deliberate slowness, Mihawk fixed you with a gaze that gleamed with newfound interest. "If I win... I want you to tell me about your power," he said, his voice a mixture of curiosity and challenge, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat. If you lost and had to divulge the origin of your power... it would mean the end of your peaceful life. You'd become an outcast, a liar, an anomaly in the eyes of the world. But it was a risk you were willing to take—for the Baratie, for your family.