DECODE. // Dracule Mihawk

11. Scarlet Haze

THE balcony doors were open when he returned, rain water pooling along the hardwood, the curtains whipping about as wind shrieked. That was the first sign that had him on alert and reaching for Yoru. His heart was in his throat with each creak of the floor as he moved into the room, closing the door sounding like a gunshot amidst the silent tension.

The second sign- Sabine was not anywhere to greet him with her beaming face and welcoming presence. So his fingers gripped the hilt of his sword a smidge tighter, he stalked towards the closed bathroom door.

A splotch of blood in the bathroom; fresh on the tile. But there was no other presence outside the permanent aura of himself and Sabine twisted up within this hotel room. He could only breathe in and smell them.

This wasn't perpetrated by someone who lacked skill after all. Purposely left traces of their aura on the bodies to see who could close in on them, gleeful to watch and see if they could get caught. And they managed to throw Mihawk off his usual game, to pursue down the streets towards what he believed would be a clue to the devil fruit user. He'd let his guard down because he assumed this to be trivial, a waste of his time if it weren't for Sabine's insistence for answers.

Was this all a ploy to get their grubby hands on Sabine? Mihawk had to see it from each angle, needed to think logically rather than allow the clawing anger within him to take over. His veins threatened to burst from the molten lava that seemed to flow within them, pulsing and goading him to implode. Every fiber of his being alive with pure, agonizing emotions over Sabine being taken, snatched from the careful bubble of protection he'd built up around her. The thought of her being hurt! The fact he hadn't been there to protect her! It gnawed at him. Made him want to scream until he could no longer; made him want to destroy, to throw everything in his path until it splintered into finite pieces.

He'd seen it for himself, how the victims began to look like Sabine. He'd read the reports, how victims were of random gender and race until her return. In his mind it was no coincidence anymore, he never should have let her out his sight, not even in the confines of a hotel patronized by church-folk.

Mihawk needed to think. Needed a clear head. A minute of silence, as he sat on the edge of the bed leaving Yoru leaned on the side. Prodding at his forehead to ease the dull ache forming from the anxiety that flitted his nerves, coursing like painful electric sparks.

A single name flashed in his mind. Red lettered and large, clear as day through the cacophony of all his screaming thoughts. Giorgio.

While he did not know if that man was capable of this, he was the only person Mihawk knew Sabine held disdain for on this island. He'd been a nuisance during the initial investigation, per her words. That there was something within Sabine telling her to stray far away from him, Mihawk had seen it that day when a crowd gathered to listen to Giorgio's ridiculous preaching. He saw the fear in her even if she could not explain what it was she was fearful for.

Mihawk's whole being ached for Sabine. Everything had begun a jumbled dissonance of feelings and actions upon meeting her. Sleepless nights and endless worrying during the day. A constant gnawing in his chest, the constricting around his lungs until he'd heard her voice over the transponder snail. When he saw her in weeks after Baratie, it was like all his solemnity and distress evaporated.

He revered her. He'd worship the ground she walked for as long as she'd let him, for as long as she chose him. But he could not, would not ask her to choose him at the end of her sabbatical. Even when that one choice dictated how the rest of his life would go. For Mihawk was prepared to lose her, to live with the harrowing thoughts and void-like emotions. To wander the seas living with her ghost until the day Zoro would likely surpass him, then perhaps he'd be at peace.