How To Annoy A Swordsman In 12 Days (Or Less)

Chapter 2: The Brood and the Brat

The morning sun peeked through the canopy of trees overhead, golden rays dancing along the forest floor. A soft breeze stirred the leaves, rustling like whispers across the island's quiet landscape. On the eastern side of the island, nestled beside the shore, a small boat bobbed gently with the tide. Curled up within it under a stitched wool blanket was a girl — Y/N.

Her platinum hair shimmered faintly in the sunlight, tousled from sleep, with a few strands sticking to her slightly tanned skin. Her light blue eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. The sharp contrast between her soft features and the calloused, strong hands resting on her chest spoke of someone who had known solitude and struggle, but still chose to face the world smiling. Even in slumber, there was a kind of calm to her face — the kind that only came to those who had cried in silence yet still believed in joy.

Y/N groaned as a crab scuttled over the edge of her boat and pinched her foot. She sat up, hair falling into her face. “Ow, rude.”

She rubbed her foot, pushed the crab off with the same care she might use to flick a leaf, then stared out at the direction she knew Mihawk’s cabin was in. It had taken her all of yesterday to explore the jungle edge and pretend she didn’t care about the swordsman who nearly sliced her head off two days ago. But her brain just... wouldn't shut up.

Y/N’s POV

I stretched my arms high, joints cracking deliciously. The salty air kissed my skin as I smirked to myself. It had been two days since I met that grumpy, golden-eyed walking ego named Mihawk, and honestly? I was kinda obsessed.

I wasn’t going to admit it out loud, obviously.

With a little hop out of my boat and a mouthful of sweet fruit I had for breakfast, I started marching toward the other side of the island — where I may or may not have followed him yesterday just to memorize his route. His cabin wasn’t that hard to find. I mean, tall man with a massive sword and a brooding aura like he’s the main character? Please. I’d track that in my sleep.

The trees gave way to an open patch of land where a medium-sized cabin stood like a stubborn thorn — tall, structured, and dark, just like the man himself. Mihawk’s silhouette was there again, sharpening his sword like it insulted his ancestors.

Perfect.

I skipped a little as I neared, waving with both hands. “Helloooooo, lover boy!”

He turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “You.”

“Yes, me, duh.” I gave a playful twirl and plopped myself down on the nearest flat stone like I owned it. “Missed me?”

He didn’t say anything. His eyes went back to his sword.

“Aw, come on, babycakes,” I cooed, “don’t be like that. You didn’t even say good morning. What if my feelings got hurt?”

“You have feelings?” he asked dryly without looking at me.

“Rude,” I gasped, hand to my chest. “I have very delicate feelings, thank you very much, pumpkin pie.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t like babycakes? Or honeybun? Ooh, I got more. How about... Mr. Grumpypants? Lord of the Sulk? Oh! Broodicus Maximus?”

Mihawk’s jaw twitched. “Why are you here?”

I grinned, leaning back on my hands, letting the morning sun warm my face. “Because I like the view.”

He looked up sharply, confused and irritated. “The view?”

“Yeah,” I said, eyes twinkling. “The cabin’s cute. And you... you’ve got that whole ‘tragic prince’ look going for you. Very brooding. Very dramatic. You’re practically romance novel material, minus the fun.”

He sighed, sheathing his sword. “You didn’t answer my question. How did you find this place?”

I blinked innocently. “Oh, you know. Love.”

He stiffened.

I smirked. “Love guided me here. The whisper of fate. The gentle nudge of destiny. Or maybe I just followed your big clunky ass boots through the mud yesterday and tracked your scent like a lovesick raccoon. Who knows?”

“You’re insane.”

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”

Mihawk turned, clearly done with me, and began walking back toward his cabin door.

“Wait!” I called. “You’re not gonna invite me in? What if a wild boar comes after me?”

He glanced at me coldly. “Let it.”

“Ouch. That hurt, sugarplum.”

“I have no patience for people like you.”

“Gorgeous, cheerful, adorable, did i say pretty?”

“Annoying.”

I gasped again. “You wound me, Mihawk. Deeply. Right in my tiny, fluttery heart.”

He was gone into his cabin by then. But I stayed on the stone, humming to myself, grinning like a cat who saw the path through the fence.

If he thought he could scare me away with sharp words and colder stares, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Because baby, I was sunshine wrapped in chaos.

And he? He was a storm waiting to be challenged.