Chapter 39: Hawk-Eye

East Sea.

Loguetown.

Center of the harbor.

The smoker arrested a gang of rioting pirates with overwhelming force, wiped the sweat from his face, then sat aside to read the latest newspaper.

Yet his mind kept returning to the scene he had witnessed at Raven Port half a month ago.

Civilians attacked the Marines to defend pirates?

Such a thing had never occurred, not just in the East Sea, but anywhere in the world.

The man at the center of the incident, known as the Knight—Gao Wen—haunted Smoker’s thoughts like a nightmare.

“Who are you?”

“You’re a pirate, yet you intervened for local civilians with no benefit to yourself?”

“There’s no such thing as a pirate like that!”

Smoker took a deep drag from the cigar in his mouth, and the more he thought, the more confused he became.

He gave up thinking and turned to ask about something else:

“Has there been any reply to Rat’s whistleblower letter?”

Darcq bit her lip and shook her head:

“No.”

“I even think the letter was intercepted before it even left the East Sea.”

“Commodore Smoker, this is absolutely unacceptable!”

“How could the Marines tolerate the existence of someone like Rat?”

“It’s an insult to justice!”

“Hmph.”

Smoker’s lips curled in sarcasm:

“For some people, money and status are justice.”

“I’ve sent people to investigate the corruption at Raven Port, but every lead vanished the moment it reached a Vice Admiral—and even my agents were detained.”

“There must be other forces behind this. To resolve it fully, we’d need to involve the Marine Criminal Investigation Division—but under their rules, we’d both have to undergo investigation too.”

“Huh? This…”

Darcq silently looked at Smoker, who flushed red:

“Once I’m in charge, I’ll dismantle this rotten department.”

He knew his own record—he’d broken rules before, but never his conscience.

If exposed, it would bring even more trouble.

Darcq subtly changed the subject:

“But regarding Knight Gao Wen, Headquarters has responded—their bounty on him will be raised again.”

“Hmm.”

Smoker nodded, unsurprised:

“In just over a month, his bounty has risen twice. That’s unprecedented in history.”

“Darcq.”

“Yes!”

“My intuition grows stronger—I’m certain that if this man enters the Grand Line, the East Sea will produce a pirate unlike any other!”

Smoker clenched his teeth:

“We must keep him in the East Sea—even if it costs our lives!”

“Yes!”

Both fell silent.

In the distance, several messenger birds flew across the sky, dropped a newspaper, then took off again.

Smoker reached down, picked up the newspaper, and opened it—his eyes locked onto a familiar face:

“Knight Gao Wen, bounty… this number appearing in the East Sea—Captain Karp will surely lose his composure.”

“How much?”

“Eighty-five million Berries!”

…

…

…

New World.

On a desolate island.

The Red Hair ship was anchored in a bay.

The skull flag emblazoned on its sail was unmistakable—even dozens of nautical miles away, it was clearly visible, driving away all pirates lurking nearby.

For that skull flag represented the youngest of the Four Emperors of the New World—the undisputed strongest in Haki today.

Red Hair—Shanks.

He had once hoped to challenge the title of greatest swordsman, but that dream ended when he left his arm behind in the East Sea.

Now, beside the beach:

The flickering firelight danced across the faces of the group.

Roasted meat, colorful fruits, and countless fine wines and delicacies lay scattered about; the heavy scent of alcohol clung to the air, untouched by the sea breeze.

“Seriously, you’ve been drinking nonstop since three days ago—there’s a limit to hangovers—!”

As Beckman spoke, Shanks grabbed him to be the target.

The others pounced, pinning Beckman down, then poured an entire large pitcher of beer straight into his mouth.

“Hahahaha~!”

Laughter erupted; by the time Beckman barely managed to break free, his face was already flushed from alcohol.

“You bastards—I won’t let any of you off for that!”

“Hahahaha~”

Shanks slapped his thigh and roared with laughter—then froze mid-laugh.

For out on the sea, a pirate vessel, crudely stitched together from a few logs and barely worthy of the name “ship,” sailed slowly toward the island, bearing a familiar flag.

The man aboard it—Shanks knew him all too well.

From him radiated an unhidden, soaring sword intent, carrying an absolute confidence unmatched in this age.

He was the unclimbable peak of swordsmanship in this era—the very opponent every swordsman dreamed of defeating—

The World’s Greatest Swordsman!

Hawk-Eye—Mihawk!

“Hey, Mihawk~ over here~”

Mihawk blinked slightly, recognized Shanks, and moored his boat to shore.

Before Mihawk could approach,

Shanks shoved a pitcher of beer into his hands, slung an arm over his shoulder, and urged:

“Drink~ drink~”

Mihawk frowned slightly at Shanks:

“You were hungover again yesterday, weren’t you?”

“That’s what a party is!”

Jesus Brook, Lachi Ru, and others joined in the teasing; Mihawk, exasperated, drained the beer in one gulp.

With Mihawk’s arrival, the party surged into another frenzy, lasting until deep into the night.

Everyone except Shanks, Mihawk, and Beckman lay passed out on the ground, drunk.

Snoring echoed intermittently around them.

Mihawk showed no sign of intoxication; he took a bounty notice from his pocket and placed it in Shanks’s hand:

“An interesting pirate has emerged in the East Sea.”

“Luffy?”

Shanks perked up, glanced at the bounty notice—and saw a stranger’s face. His interest instantly faded.

Mihawk didn’t care; he continued:

“Knight Gao Wen. Bounty: forty-eight million.”

“From his eyes, I can tell—he’s a swordsman.”

“A swordsman with absolute confidence—bordering on arrogance.”

“I don’t know where that confidence comes from, but perhaps he’ll bear fruit worth savoring.”

Mihawk glanced at Shanks’s missing arm:

“Since you lost your arm, I haven’t faced a worthy opponent in far too long.”

“If you want a fight, I won’t refuse.”

“You no longer interest me.”

Mihawk said coolly.

Beside him, Bockerman suddenly took the bounty poster from Red-Haired’s hand, studied it closely, then grinned at Hawk-Eye:

“Your information is outdated—this guy’s bounty has been updated.”

Saying this,

Bockerman pulled out today’s newly arrived newspaper and extracted one bounty poster from the stack clipped inside, handing it to Hawk-Eye.

Hawk-Eye’s eyes flickered slightly:

“Eighty-five million Beri?”

“Interesting.”

“I’ve decided—next stop, the East Blue!”

(End of Chapter)