Chapter Text
It finally happened.
Mihawk shoved several more books back on the shelf a little too aggressively and the case shuttered.
It was over.
He looked through the stack on the table next to him. None of them were his own novels. He set each one on shelf, not bothering or caring if they were in alphabetical order. His main task was finding the volumes that belonged to him. The few he had brought with him to Karai Bari. His mind tumbled over itself as it tried to remember where he had put them while constantly reminding him of the situation.
It finally happened. It was over for him. He was finally free.
Roronoa Zoro had surpassed him.
His title was passed on to the new greatest swordsman. It was hard-earned and well-deserved. Mihawk acknowledged that. He acknowledged Zoro’s superiority. His pupil, the only one with the unmatched potential and the only one Mihawk could entirely place his faith in, won. There was a swell of deep pride that enveloped him the moment he knew he was beat.
He had been cast on the ground, bloodied and cut, gazing up at the black sky swirling from their blades. Mihawk knew it was over, and somewhere inside, he was ready to die in peace right there on the battlefield. The future would be well taken care of. He needn’t worry.
He was denied that ending though. The last words Zoro said to him kept whispering in his ear as he tore at the bookshelf. He had been on the edge of unconsciousness, but through his hazy memory he could still see the glimmer of three blades as Zoro spoke.
“You gave me what I needed the most. Now I will do the same for you.”
Mihawk was confounded by that statement. He mindlessly flipped through the pages of an old almanac in his hand even though it wasn’t of any importance to him. He wanted to stop thinking about those words. His brain was looking for anything to distract it from trying to decipher what the young swordsman had meant.
What did Mihawk need? He was certain he didn’t need anything more. He was free, and alive. He could retire. He could lay down his weapon and step away from the warzone. He could go back home. He could leave here.
His hands fumbled with the almanac and he dropped it. It remained where it fell, scraping his barefeet on the cold stone floor. He stared at the messy shelf. He could leave here. Get away from the tacky tents outside, the obnoxious blinding colors, the overbearing smell of cigar smoke. He could be in his own dark castle, quiet and alone.
Alone, in that massive space. He could have a silent, peaceful holiday like he always did. Except…did he really want that?
Mihawk shook his head. It didn’t matter if he wanted it or not. He had completed his task. He was no longer needed here. There was no reason for him to saddle Buggy and Crocodile with his useless presence. They would find another strongman to take the lead in battle. One that was not wounded and scarred, one that had some kind of purpose other than hiding away in a castle with no intention of fighting ever again. They would not miss him. Even if things were now rather amicable compared to the start. Buggy was not quite annoying anymore, and was sometimes funny and had drinks with him. When there was nothing else to do, Crocodile droned on with stories and history from Alabasta while Mihawk mostly listened.
It wasn’t supposed to last. He was a loner. He couldn’t stray away from his own conviction now. He was never like the others. All the lonely people like him, where do they belong? On their own, finding their path through life in solitude.
A feeling of sudden haste shook him and rushed his brain, nearly making him dizzy. He picked up the books tossed on the ground and set some back on the shelf in no clear order and others in haphazard stacks. His hands rattled and he almost knocked over the heavy bookend.
This was what he wanted, he reminded himself. This was how it was supposed to be. So why did it feel like his entire world was being flipped upside down and shaken? Yesterday, these kinds of troubles seemed so far away. A shadow was now hanging over him. It all came too suddenly.
His eyes targeted the large treasure chest in the room next. It contained the shared loot between the three Cross Guild leaders from an expedition last year. It sat in their common living quarters next to the coffee table. It was always propped open so the contents inside could glitter in the sun from the window and be constantly admired by its owners. Mihawk remembered setting a book on top of the chest once. He dug through the gold and gems, little pieces of treasure clanging to the floor.
Having no success, he turned his sights on the sofa next. He tossed the cushions to the floor, trying to silence the thoughts in his head and focus on what he needed to do. He lifted the entire thing to peer underneath, then let it thunk back on the ground. He did the same with the chairs and recliners next.
He didn't even pay attention to the searing pain on the right side of his chest. The wound from Zoro bled through the bandages under his shirt.
~~~~****~~~~
Even through the thick stone walls of their base, Buggy could hear the commotion in the common room bouncing down the halls. It stirred him from his sleep. He awoke with a slight startle, then settled when he heard a familiar grunt off in the dark. It was just Mihawk doing something. He tried falling back asleep, pillow squished over his head, but the swordsman was being unusually noisy. Buggy finally gave up and trudged over to the common room.
He didn't bother taking a lamp or candlestick with him. Light was spilling into the hall from where Mihawk was doing whatever he was doing, and Buggy pulled himself sleepily toward it. He yawned, squeezing his eyes shut, and bumped into something big and warm in the shadows.
Buggy wobbled a bit and squinted up at Crocodile. "S-Sorry...."
The warlord straightened his dark green silk nightshirt. He raised an eyebrow at the clown. "Can't sleep either, eh?"
Buggy shook his head and a few strands of loose blue hair fell in front of his face.
Crocodile sighed and continued with him down the hall, grumbling as they went. "What in God's name is he doing in there?"
They reached the illuminated doorway and peered inside, rubbing their eyes at the light. Their black-haired companion was skittering around the room, looking for something. Or at least they thought. It was hard to tell exactly what he was doing.
There were couch cushions scattered on the floor, the furniture was rearranged and the bookshelf was pulled from the wall. However Mihawk was not looking in any of those places. He just kind of stared off into random points in space, his bright eyes wide and unfocused. Tinges of red exhaustion seeped at their corners. He didn’t seem to notice them.
"Hawkeye, what the hell are you doing!?” Crocodile shouted. “It's two in the morning! You're supposed to be resting!"
Mihawk momentarily paused to stare at Crocodile. "I have to get ready," he muttered, before returning to stacking and restacking piles of books.
Buggy blinked and tilted his head, his eyes staying half-lidded. "Ready for...what?"
"So I can go."
Buggy perked up at the short answer. "Go where?"
"Away from here."
Crocodile rubbed at his face. He entered further into the room, coming to stand behind Mihawk. "Hawkeye, what are you talking about? You need to rest. Now go back to bed!"
Despite his annoyance, Crocodile reached out and tried to gently touch Mihawk on the shoulder. Mihawk jumped away from him and Crocodile recoiled in alarm. He received an awkward glance from the golden eyes.
Mihawk muttered something under his breath and continued wandering around the room.
Buggy brushed the hair from his face. His brow furrowed as he watched Mihawk. The swordsman was trembling. "Hawk...are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Mihawk quickly responded. "Please, I need to finish here. You may go back to sleep. I can handle myself."
"Hawkeye..."
"The quicker I leave here, the better." He paused again and rubbed at his right shoulder. His face grimaced with pain this time. "I will be out of your way."
Crocodile tried to catch him once more. His hand grazed Mihawk's shirt. "Why are you leaving?"
Mihawk actually looked him in the eye, then did the same to Buggy. He stared at them like they had lost their minds. "It's over. I've been surpassed." He gripped his shoulder, frowning, and always stoic voice started to crack. "I'm no longer the strongest swordsman, and you don't...need me…anymore..."
He collapsed on the crooked sofa, sitting hunched over with one hand covering his face. Buggy was stunned by the statement, and keen enough to notice a different kind of pain washing over Mihawk's eyes.
"Oh...oh no." He scrambled over to the sofa and sat down next to the swordsman. He set his arm around Mihawk's shoulders, careful not to disturb the bandages, and pulled him into a light embrace, gently holding him. "No, Hawk, no. You don't have to go!"
A ragged breath shuttered through Mihawk's frame as he kept hiding his face. "But-"
"NO," Buggy repeated, and it carried over to Mihawk's ears as a direct order. "You're not going to leave, and we don't want you to leave!"
Crocodile blinked the shock away from his tired eyes. "Hawkeye, how in the world did you get it in your head that you had to go away?"
Mihawk tilted his face just enough to glance at Crocodile as he came to sit on his left side on the sofa. He was now firmly nestled between the clown and the warlord with no escape. "You asked me to join forces with you because of my abilities. Because of my strength. I cannot provide that for you anymore!"
"Why? Because you got pummeled by a Straw Hat?" Crocodile shrugged. "Well, that makes three for three then. You're just like the rest of us now."
"Welcome to the club," Buggy smirked.
Mihawk lifted his head, looking at them both clearly since they walked in the room. "You're not...upset with me, losing the duel?"
"Are you kidding!?" Buggy exclaimed, and he pressed his hand on Mihawk's forehead to make sure there wasn't a delirious fever present. "We all knew you were going to fight Roronoa someday! We knew you wanted him to surpass you because you always talked about it. Now he did. That's all because of you, Hawk!"
Mihawk stared at him, confused.
Crocodile sighed. "I think what the clown is saying, Hawkeye, is that you were a good mentor. You did your job. You should be proud."
"We are! Of you! Right, Croc?" Buggy sent Crocodile a look that demanded his agreement.
"That's true," Crocodile smiled under threat. "No one can touch you, Hawkeye, except for that Straw Hat. And even that was a close match. The only person you wished to beat you, did. You were the master of your own fate. And we're glad you're our swordsman."
"And we want you to continue to be," Buggy added. His hand moved from Mihawk's forehead and now ran through the black hair. "We don't want you to go. Also, I forbid you from leaving."
Mihawk leaned on the sofa back between them. He stared off into thin air as their words tumbled over in his head. He was vaguely aware of Buggy petting at his hair, but his body still fell into the touch. His head landed on Buggy's shoulder and his lip trembled until he choked out what he'd been secretly hoping ever since the end of the duel.
"I…I don't want to leave you...you are my friends..."
His golden eyes squeezed shut against Buggy's shoulder.
"You're not going anywhere," Buggy whispered, leaning his head on the other's. His blue hair spilled over and mixed with the black. "We're keeping you here."
~~~~****~~~~
It didn't take long for Mihawk to completely pass out on Buggy. His wound was still fresh, and he was both physically and mentally exhausted from the fight. With his adrenaline and anxiety fueled concerns temporarily soothed by his companions, he was finally able to fall into a deep sleep.
Buggy cracked an eye open, peering at the man laying on his chest. He had reclined on the sofa to better hold the swordsman. Mihawk was limp in his arms, heavy against his chest. Buggy gazed at Crocodile on the other side of the couch. He was also gradually drifting off.
Buggy cleared his throat, trying to get Crocodile's attention. When that didn't work, he spoke in a hushed tone. "Hey, Croc..."
Crocodile eyed him from his relaxed place across from him.
"He's asleep!" Buggy whispered.
There was a quiet grunt from Crocodile, then he began stretching his long legs to get up. "Good. Then I can go back to bed..."
"No!" Buggy hushed. "You have to take him to his room!"
"He can sleep here!" Crocodile grumpily whispered back.
"No, he'll be sad!"
"Sad? He'll be asleep like he's supposed to!"
"When he wakes up, I mean!" Buggy quietly growled. "We can't leave him all alone out here, he needs to be in his own bed!"
"Fine, then take him."
"I can't carry him! You have to do it."
Crocodile groaned. "Okay." If it meant he could get back to sleep faster, then he wouldn't silently argue with the clown anymore. He walked over to Buggy's side, and carefully picked up the injured swordsman, holding him by the shoulders with his right arm and lifting the legs with the stump of his left arm. Mihawk's head lolled against his chest, completely out of it.
Buggy followed Crocodile to Mihawk's quarters. He opened the door for him, dashing inside after, and quickly pulled back the covers on the bed. Crocodile set Mihawk down, making sure he was flat on his back and his wound wasn't disturbed.
He gave a look to Buggy. "If he needs to be tucked in, that's your job. I'm going to bed..." He silently left the room, leaving Buggy to finish seeing that Mihawk was comfortable.
Buggy pulled the blankets over Mihawk, stopping near his chest. He moved a sheet to the side and prodded at Mihawk's shirt. The bandage covering the wound underneath was stained red. A medical kit was left on the nightstand. He cut around the blood spot with a pair of shears, then applied some clean gauze over the stitched up slash in the flesh. The remaining blood was dark and thick as it coagulated in the wound. It still needed several days to heal, if Mihawk could only manage to keep still for that long. Buggy straightened his shirt over the fresh bandage, and covered him with the blankets.
Mihawk stirred somewhat, his eyes slitting open for just a second before falling shut again, "Buggy..."
He fell silent once more, breathing deep, pulled back into his slumber.
"I'm here," Buggy said gently, and ran his fingers along a ridge of black hair. Mihawk remained still.
Buggy watched him for a few minutes. Satisfied that he would sleep through the rest of the night, Buggy then downed the lamp near the bedside and moved through the shadows to his own quarters.