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

Chapter 4: Flowers, Insults, and One Seriously Dull Cabin

Three days had passed since Y/N's last surprise ambush at Mihawk's cabin-an ambush that had left him regretting not building a moat around his home. Unfortunately for Mihawk, the word "boundaries" didn't seem to exist in Y/N's dictionary, or if it did, it was probably followed by a laughing emoji.

The sun hung lazily over the gloomy island, casting a dim light across the misty forest paths that Y/N was now happily skipping through.

Her platinum shoulder-length hair bounced with every step, catching the faint sunlight like silver ribbons, and her bright ocean-blue eyes scanned the trees with mischievous energy. Dressed in a loose white shirt tucked into her utility shorts and an oversized coat flapping behind her like a superhero cape, she carried a small bouquet of mismatched island flowers in one hand and a pack full of snacks in the other.

"Mihawwwwk!" she sang like a bird that had discovered how to annoy its predator.

Meanwhile, Mihawk was sharpening his sword outside his cabin. His movements were calm, fluid, precise-until he heard that voice.

He paused mid-sharpen.

A long sigh escaped his lips.

He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

And then came the footsteps. Skipping. Loud. Purposeful.

"There you are! God, I almost died of boredom walking here. Your place is in the middle of nowhere-like you just said, 'Oh yes, I want to live where all joy goes to die!'"

Mihawk stood, slowly turning to face her. "Why are you here again?"

Y/N grinned, holding out the chaotic bouquet. "I brought you flowers. For your funeral. Of style."

He stared at the flowers, unimpressed. "They're wilting."

"Exactly! It matches your house vibe perfectly."

Mihawk's eye twitched, just barely.

She brushed past him like she owned the place and looked around at the sparse interior through the open window. "Still no curtains? No color? No soul? I feel like I'm in a cave that got rejected by an actual cave."

He clenched his jaw. "This is my home."

"It's a cry for help, baby," she said sweetly, placing the flowers in a chipped mug on his wooden table. "Seriously, do you sleep in a coffin too or is that still on order?"

He ignored her and walked back to his chair to continue sharpening his blade.

Y/N flopped onto the only other seat-a crate-and popped open a bag of dried fruit. "Anyway, I brought lunch. I know you probably don't eat anything that wasn't stabbed first, but I thought we could, you know, bond? Maybe make some throw pillows together later?"

"Why are you really here?" he asked, his voice quiet but tense.

She smiled and leaned closer. "Because you fascinate me, Mister Tall-Dark-and-Anger-Issues."

His glare could cut steel.

"What? You're like a puzzle wrapped in leather."

Mihawk stood up abruptly. "I'm going hunting. Don't follow me."

Naturally, she followed him.

Mihawk stalked through the woods like a shadow, silent and swift. Y/N? She trailed behind making commentary like it was a tour.

"Oooh, spooky trees! Love the haunted aesthetic. Very on-brand for you."

He ignored her.

"Hey, if I scream, will the animals run or will you?"

No response.

"I bet you talk to your sword more than people, huh? Like, 'Good morning, Mr. Slicey, let's ignore emotions again today!'"

"If you don't shut up, I will bury you right here."

Y/N gasped. "Kinky."

He stopped walking. Turned around. Glared.

She blinked innocently. "I brought snacks."

He walked faster.

And so it went, an unholy dance of silence versus chaos, cold steel versus warm words.

When they reached the edge of the cliffside that overlooked the sea, Mihawk paused, staring out at the crashing waves like he could will her to vanish into the horizon.

Y/N stood beside him, quiet for once.

"You don't have to like me, you know," she said, tone softer. "But I'm not going anywhere. So you might as well get used to me."

He glanced at her, the tension in his jaw loosening just slightly. "Why?"

She smiled, brushing wind-tossed hair behind her ear. "Maybe I like tough projects."

Mihawk turned back to the sea, unmoved-or so he wanted to seem.

But Y/N saw it.

That one, tiny, almost invisible curve at the edge of his lips.

The battle between them had only just begun-and for once, Mihawk wasn't sure he wanted to win.