The island of Kuraigana was as desolate as ever. The once-proud castle, now Mihawk's sanctuary, stood tall amid the crumbling ruins and the eerie silence that wrapped itself around the land like a thick fog. Mihawk spent his days sharpening his blade, contemplating the passage of time, and occasionally sipping wine while listening to the wind howl through the cracks in the castle walls.
Today was no different—or so he thought.
As Mihawk made his way to the shore for his usual routine of solitude and observation, he noticed something peculiar. There, washed up on the rocks, was a figure—a woman. He approached with measured steps, his keen eyes assessing every detail. Her long dark blue hair was tangled with seaweed, and her bangs completely covered her eyes. She was drenched, wearing an outfit far too formal for a situation like this—a suit jacket with a greenish tie and a short black skirt, now plastered to her skin from the seawater.
Before Mihawk could speak or decide what to do, the woman stirred, coughing and sitting up with a surprising amount of energy for someone who had just been tossed by the waves.
"Hello!" she chirped, far too cheerful for the grim surroundings. She looked up—well, sort of, since her eyes were hidden beneath her dark bangs. "Lovely day, isn't it? Oh, dear, where am I?"
Mihawk stared at her, utterly baffled by her demeanor. People washed up on islands all the time, especially in the unpredictable seas of the Grand Line. But rarely did they do so with such... positivity.
"You're on Kuraigana Island," Mihawk said after a long pause, his voice low and cold as usual. "It's not a place for travelers."
She blinked—or at least, he assumed she did behind those bangs—and then stood up, wobbling slightly but quickly regaining her balance. "Ah! Kuraigana, what a fascinating name!" She spun in a little circle, taking in the desolate scenery. "Seems like it could use a bit of a woman's touch, don't you think?"
Mihawk raised an eyebrow, not accustomed to people speaking so freely around him. "What are you doing here?"
She grinned widely, her head tilting to one side. "I guess the sea decided to give me a little push in this direction! Oh!" She clapped her hands together, as if suddenly struck by inspiration. "Would you happen to need a maid? I'm really good at cleaning, and this castle of yours—" she gestured vaguely towards the towering ruins in the distance—"could use some help!"
Mihawk narrowed his eyes. "A maid?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I can clean, cook, and keep you company. I promise you won't regret it!" Her tone was so bubbly that it almost bounced off the dull walls of the island itself.
Mihawk considered dismissing her entirely, but something about the sheer oddity of her—this cheerful stranger on his bleak, isolated island—made him pause. He hadn't thought about it before, but the castle was falling into more disrepair than even he could manage on his own. And despite her strange mannerisms, there was a certain... charm to her presence.
"Very well," he said at last. "You may stay. But don't expect much hospitality."
Her grin widened impossibly. "Oh, thank you! You won't regret it, I promise! I'm—I'm—well, you can call me anything you like!" she said, seemingly realizing she had forgotten to introduce herself.
Mihawk remained expressionless. "I'll call you 'maid,' then."
She giggled. "Perfect!"
Days passed, and Mihawk found himself in a strange, new rhythm. The woman—he never learned her real name, and she never pressed the matter—seemed to blend seamlessly into life on the island. She was always cheerful, always working, and always humming some tune that echoed through the empty halls of the castle. Every time Mihawk returned from his usual routine, the place seemed a bit cleaner, a bit brighter, though nothing else on the island had changed.
At first, Mihawk found her presence puzzling, if not mildly irritating. Yet, over time, he realized he didn't mind it as much as he expected. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Her odd cheerfulness was refreshing, almost calming, as though her lightheartedness balanced out the dark, quiet stillness that had suffocated Kuraigana for so long.
But it wasn't just her positivity. Mihawk noticed something else—an unspoken fragility beneath her smile, an unguardedness that made him feel... protective. It was a foreign feeling, one he hadn't felt in years. Despite her strange, almost carefree attitude, he could sense something deeper in her—perhaps a hidden sadness behind the bangs that covered her eyes, or a past she was running from. He didn't ask, though. She never volunteered the information, and Mihawk respected her silence.
One evening, after a quiet meal, she sat down on the castle steps, staring out into the fading light. Mihawk stood nearby, leaning against the stone wall, watching her. She didn't speak, but there was something different about her tonight. The usual cheer was still there, but it was softer, more subdued.
"Maid," Mihawk said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Why did you wash up here?"
She turned her head slightly, her bangs swaying with the movement. "Who knows? Maybe I just got lucky." She laughed, but there was a faint tremor to it.
For the first time, Mihawk felt the urge to ask more, to understand who this strange woman really was. But he resisted. Instead, he walked over and stood beside her, his presence alone enough to convey what words could not.
As the stars appeared, the silence between them felt different than usual—warmer, more alive. Mihawk found himself, oddly, wanting to protect this strange woman who had stumbled into his life. Whether it was her unwavering optimism or the quiet vulnerability she hid behind her bangs, he wasn't sure.
But what he did know was that the castle no longer felt quite as empty.
