Swordtism 001

My wealth and treasures? If you want it, I'll let you have it...search for it! I left all of it at that place.

Gol D. Roger's final words rang in his head as he woke up from a deep sleep. Opening his eyes wide, he found himself on a bustling street constructed in a Caribbean style. It was full of vendors, hawkers, and busy storefronts. 

“Read all about it, Pirate King Roger has been captured by the Hero Garp! For information about his treasure, head down to…” 

During the hustle and bustle, he felt a splitting headache, and stared into a nearby shop's window, and caught sight of his reflection. Staring back at him was a well dressed, dapper young man. But what was most striking about him, were his eyes! 

A pair of yellow, unblinking hawk eyes stared him down. Strapped to his back was a two handed sword, a messer to be exact. There were no memories of this body's past, save for that of the sword. 

Stabs, parries, swipes, blocks, in total he understood the basics of eight separate sword styles, also known as forms. 

What was more incredible was what came next. Accompanied by an even more intense headache, he was greeted by some System text. 

[Challenge Rating System: 

Fill the exp meter, challenge a foe from across the multiverse in a life or death 1v1. Win, and take one of their signature skills. Lose, and only death awaits. 

Each victory over a foe across the world grants a single point of meter. Greater foes grant a higher amount of exp. 

Meter: 0

Challenge Tier Requirements: 

F: 10 Meter

D: 100 Meter

C: 1,000 Meter

B: 10,000 Meter

A: 100,000 Meter

S: 1,000,000 Meter] 

The large amount of information stunned him-Mihawk-in place. However, he quickly hovered over the Challenge Tier Requirements section, and saw that like a currency, his meter would be consumed upon a challenge. Furthermore, an F tier opponent was someone truly weak, like a Academy Student Konomahamaru from Naruto, whilst an S tier represented the top of a power structure, like old man Yamamoto from Bleach. It wasn't limited to anime either, as he could challenge characters like Kratos, Sokka, Samurai Jack or Sephiroth. 

There was theoretically an endless amount of people to challenge. Unfortunately, he couldn't inherit their traits, such as a sharingan from an Uchiha, or the immortality of a devil. However, it wasn't impossible to learn other things as long as it was a unique skill.

That said, having woken up as Mihawk, he was already an extremely sword obsessed individual, and would focus most of his gains in that direction. 

Whilst Mihawk had been staring blankly at a window, a greasy looking woman stuck her head out of a passing carriage, and stared enraptured at his reflection. She then turned to her guards, which were a quartet of gangsters. “His eyes. I must have those eyes. Pluck them from his head, they belong to me.” 

Following her orders, one of the goons pulled out a switchblade, and snuck up behind Mihawk. 

Having just left the System space, Mihawk's special eyes caught the reflection of a blade in the shop window before him. Recognizing the danger, his heart began pounding, and putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, his body seemed to act on instinct. It was one of the eight forms that this body had already practiced: 

Form I: Shi-Cho Ordinary Slash

Sword flowing from his sheath in one smooth motion, Mihawk pivoted on his heel, and much to the shocked screams of the crowd, he slashed the man in the chest, sending him to the ground. 

A jet of blood sprayed out, and the guy's eyes rolled back as he became unconscious. Mihawk froze in place for a second, as his brain didn't really catch up with his actions. Upon seeing the guy still breathing, he didn't know if he should be relieved that One Piece bodies were simply built different, or if he should be at all concerned about some guy who tried to shank him from behind. 

Although his face appeared like a mask of indifference, internally, he was confused by this sudden assault. Had he mistakenly fallen into the ‘main character syndrome’ of having bad guys make trouble for no reason? 

‘Then? Ah, as expected.’ Mihawk thought to himself as he spotted two more goons charge at him, and a final thug preparing his pistol. 

A cutlass came swinging down at him from an overhead, to which Mihawk-relying upon his instincts-met power with power. 

Form V: Djem-So Power Slash. 

His weapon felt heavy in his hands, and with the help of the messer's length, he overpowered the cutlass, easily batting it to the side, and likewise, slashed him in the chest. By the time mook number three had reached him, and was clumsily stabbing towards him, Mihawk's hawk-like eyes saw that he was full of openings. Exerting the barest effort, he brought his sword up from a bottom swipe, and knocked the cutlass away, leaving his sword tip at the goon's eye. 

The disarmed gangster gulped, and held his hands up. “I have a family, please!” 

Mihawk waited just a beat, waiting for something in anticipation. The sound of a bang was all he needed to hear. Dashing forward into a roll, he used the gangster as a meat shield from his companion's bullets. 

As the disarmed man screamed in agony after being hit by friendly fire, the gunner had held back his gun in both shock & apology. Right when he was about to line up another shot, Mihawk was already upon him. Thrusting outward, the tip of his blade knocked the handgun aside. The tip of the barrel was full of sparks as a bullet emerged, and whizzed past Mihawk's ear by less than an inch. Sword still traveling forward, it cut into the goon's wrist, then fast as lightning, cut at the other wrist, making sure the man was out of commission. 

“Those eyes, give me those eyes!” An obsessed woman's voice shouted from nearby. 

Looking at a nearby carriage, Mihawk couldn't believe there were such stupid people in the world. She had just witnessed her protectors fall one after another, yet still she clamored for his eyes? 

Idiot. 

Sighing to himself at the reality of a manga world, he silently approached the carriage in small, confident steps. 

Perhaps beginning to realize something was wrong, the woman started to screech hysterically, like a banshee possessed. “Don't you do anything, my father is the-” 

Mihawk's messer flashed silver as it slid across the woman's eyes, resulting in a long red line traveling from one side of the face to the other. 

Sheathing his blade, Mihawk ignored the terrified gazes of those around him, and took a large pouch of Berries from the carriage before disappearing into the crowd. 

“My eyes! My eyes!” The woman screamed in the distance. 

Mihawk continued walking. It wasn't that he was a murderhobo, or even a saint. In general, he considered himself a decent guy, but he was neither a coward, nor someone who would sit still when under attack. If someone wanted to do something bad to him, he didn't mind repaying poison with poison. 

A hushed whisper surrounded him, and an invisible bubble seemed to circle him, as everyone parted wherever he walked. 

Mihawk paid it no mind, as he was happy to see his Meter points had gone up to 4. Unfortunately, the woman didn't grant a point, but he figured the System rated her as too weak to even count. 

During this brief walk, Mihawk felt his stomach grumble, then looked towards a pier full of ships. Now the intelligent thing to do, was to use this newfound money, hire a ship, and get out of dodge. 

However, seeing as this was a manga world, he would likely have the ship captain be in cahoots with that woman's family, and try to ambush him or poison him. Therefore, he could run away on his own, but given the low level of these mooks, Mihawk would rather farm them. Thus, his plan was simple. To grab some food from a roadside stall that couldn't be tampered with, then hangout in the dock district to meet the inevitable reprisal. 

Nodding to himself, Mihawk paid a random vendor for a meatpie, then ate an apple too along the way. 

Finding a nice shaded area near an alleyway that was neither too wide, nor too narrow, it was the perfect place to fight one against many. Sitting down on a moving crate, he rested his back against the wall, and tipped his wide brimmed black hat downwards, whilst resting his sword on his knees. 

During the wait, Mihawk reviewed the fighting style he had inherited. Consisting of eight forms, they were: 

Form I: Shii-Cho. This style was foundational, and was particularly effective at wide horizontal sweeps, cutting wrists, and big movements. It was best for AOE & against groups. 

Form II: Makashi was a duelists form. Excelling at lunges, parries, and feints, it was all about maintaining a central line. 

Form III: Soresu. Focusing on defense, the point of Soresu was to use as few movements as possible, then either exhaust your foe, or find an opening in their combination attack, and end things in one slash. 

Form IV: Ataru. This was an agility based technique that was highly exhausting to perform, but was meant to overwhelm the enemy with flips, kicks, and sheer speed. 

Form V: Djem-So. The power form, Djem-So was all about strength, and excelled at vertical slashes. It focused on dominating the opponent's tempo, and forcing them into your rhythm with lethal counterattacks. 

Form VI: Niman. A combination of all prior forms, this one had a big blank in his mind, and felt uncertain. 

The next two forms, VII & VIII were likewise hazy. He felt that the memory for them was at the edge of his brain, just waiting to be triggered by something, but he didn't know what. 

Regardless, the first five styles of combat were quite comprehensive, covering both offense and defense. He could very well see a day where he unleashed sword ki like Zoro or the original Mihawk, and could slash anything apart. 

His dream-besides becoming the greatest swordsman-was to accomplish a legendary feat. And the idea he had in mind…was to slash the Redline in half, directly at the spot where the Celestial Dragons called home! 

Resting for about ten minutes, it wasn't long before the expected outcome occurred. 

Emerging from the streets, a large group of about two dozen goons began to walk towards him. Grinning and leering like typical Japanese H-villains, these guys were unfortunately incredibly ugly. 

“Background characters are destined to be background characters. How pitable.” Mihawk sighed as he stood up from his crate, sword in hand. 

“Oi, what'd he call us?!” 

“Pretty boy, your ass will fetch a fine amount of Berries to those nobles!” 

“Tch. So he's that ‘Hawk Eyes’ that took madam's eyesight.” A taller than average, tan, somewhat rugged handsome guy carrying a big sword over his shoulder spat. 

Mihawk's eyes had incredible dynamic vision, and seemed to zoom in on this a company crest, noting that he was a mercenary, and probably had some talent. 

“Captain Vent, we'll put an end to him! That 10,000 Berry bounty the boss placed on Hawk Eye's head is as good as ours!” A goon declared, then without another word, charged. 

Occupying the mouth to the alleyway, Mihawk could only reasonably be confronted by two, maybe three guys at a time. Otherwise, the enemy would run into one another, and wouldn't even be able to slash. 

Like what just happened right now. Eager to earn merits, a surge of idiots all crowded in close, intent on claiming the reward. 

Form I: Shi-Cho Ordinary Slash

His blade took on a sharp lustre, and weaved through the crowd, hacking at fingers & wrists all at once. Five men had entered the mouth of the alley, but were so close to one another, they couldn't even raise their blades in defense. As a result, they all fell to the ground bleeding, their eyes going white. 

“Idiots. Go two at a time. Wear him down.” The mercenary Captain, Vent, ordered. 

“Aye!” 

“Tear him up!” 

A pair of grunts roared, charging at him. The guy on Mihawk's left was very tall & muscular, smashing down with a big two handed hammer, whilst the one on his right was shorter than average, dashing low, twirling a pair of daggers in hand. 

Eyes flashing with wisdom, Mihawk saw the trajectory of their attacks, then judged their speed, and acted accordingly. 

Form II: Makashi Fools Parry 

Acting like he was going to stab the short guy with a forward thrust, the dagger wielder halted in his tracks. 

“Baka!” The short guy mocked as the big ass hammer came whooshing down with a mighty swing. 

Mihawk allowed a small smirk to spread across his face as this was what he had been hoping for. Meeting the edge of the hammer with the tip of his blade, he ever so slightly redirected it, where it smashed into his companion! 

The dagger wielder's back cracked with a sickening crunch, white foam spurting out of his mouth. Before hammer guy could realize what was going on, Mihawk's shoulder had crashed into his chest, sending him back a step. That was all the distance Mihawk needed to bring his sword up, bringing forth a new fountain of crimson spraying from hammer guy's chest. 

There was no time to celebrate, however, as the next wave was already incoming. Feeling a small amount of fatigue building, he briefly switched strategies to recuperate in the midst of battle. 

Form III: Soresu Still as the Mountain

Adopting a defensive posture, he met the next few dozen swings from a pair of cutlasses with measured calm. Whilst he gradually caught his breath from the big moves he had executed earlier, the two in front of him grew increasingly panicked & sweaty as their offense stalled. 

“Why. Won't. You. DIE?!?!” One goon roared, and took two hands into a overhead hack & slash style. 

This move of his left him wide open, to which Mihawk swiped first, cutting open his chest. At the same time, the other goon hadn't been expecting this sudden reversal, and already exhausted, met a quick end. 

Wave after wave, Mihawk fought them all. By the time Vent was the last one standing, the entire alleyway was awash with blood, soft cries, and broken body parts. 

Mihawk's ensemble attire was completely free of blood or any grime, however a fine sheen of sweat had been trailing down his temple. Planting his sword in the ground, he did his best not to heave & take rapid deep breaths. Instead, he silently stared the mercenary Captain down, daring him to make his move. 

Any arrogance, or hint of superiority was gone from Vent's face. Instead he solemnly looked at Mihawk as if he were eying a great predator. 

“Why did you do it? Why did you maim the madam? Were you sent by one of the other members of the Five Families?” Vent asked.

Mihawk's face remained stoic, but internally he scoffed. He had no relation to Capone Beige or the other crime families. However, Vent's words were helpful, at least he now had a general idea of where he was: West Blue. 

“So you're not going to talk, huh? Well then, you should know what this is.” Vent said, holding up a circular bomb. “Our family produces the bomb collars for the World Nobles. Messing with us was a big mistake.” 

Vent then reached for a match, and was about to light the fuse, when-

Form IV: Ataru Speed is My Life

Putting everything into a full frontal straightline attack, the very second Vent's eyes were distracted by the lightning of the match, Mihawk moved. 

The straight edge of his messer pierced Vent's heart mere milliseconds before the match in his hand could touch the fuse.

Looking up at him with the unwillingness to die, Vent collapsed in a heap of his own blood, never to rise again. 

Mihawk flicked the blood off his messer, then pocketed the bomb, as it could be useful later. 

Emerging from the alleyway, dusk was rapidly approaching, yet that didn't stop him from noticing the stunned crowd. Furthermore, a half circle had formed at some point, and a group of about a dozen gangsters all had their guns pointed at him. 

Absolutely gassed, Mihawk raised his sword, and thrust it into the cobblestone ground beneath him. 

Do it. I dare you. 

The gangsters began to shake in place, sweat, and gulp. Seconds seemed to pass like hours. By the first minute, it felt like an agonizing day in hell. No one knew who broke first, but one by one they turned and ran. 

Grunting from exhaustion, Mihawk tossed his sword into the sky, and then it slid into the scabbard on his back with a snug click. As the crowd parted for him, Mihawk tilted his hat. Of course, he also covered his face so that none could see just how pale & weak he looked. 

As the setting sun glittered upon the nearby water, his black cloak rippled due to a gentle seabreeze. Departing for parts unknown, Dracule Mihawk had made his mark upon the world. 

~~~~~

AN: I have like 4 chapters written, and will dump them all this/next week. It's not on the schedule, but if it's popular enough, I'll try to find some time to write more. 

Known moves: 

Form I: Shi-Cho Ordinary Slash 

Form II: Makashi Fools Parry 

Form III: Soresu Still as the Mountain

Form IV: Ataru Speed is My Life

Form V: Djem-So Power Slash