Dracule Mihawk instinctively went on guard.
He could not help being wary. A leaf floating on the sea, a mysterious man fishing—everything seemed far too bizarre.
"Young man, don't be so guarded. Your injuries aren't light. Though I gave you some simple treatment, if your wounds split open in an environment like this, it'll be hard to say what might happen."
Mihawk's gaze narrowed slightly. He could not determine the other man's age from his voice, though he did not sound elderly. But that was not what concerned him now. What concerned him were his own injuries.
He quickly lowered his head. His shirt was still tattered, but the sword wound from before had unexpectedly closed up. Though it was not fully healed, this had already surpassed the scope of normal treatment.
Mihawk's expression shifted uncertainly. He himself knew just how severe that sword wound had been. The "Sword Qi Thunder Sound" Shanks had used had already surpassed his understanding of swordsmanship. He had been completely unable to withstand the power of that strike. In his estimation, surviving at all had been a stroke of tremendous luck. Even if someone had rescued him, he should have been bedridden for at least a year. And that was assuming his body was far stronger than an ordinary person's.
Splash...
Just as Mihawk was deep in thought, the sound of water rang out. A plump sea fish was hooked and reeled in, leaving a trail of ripples across the sunlit ocean as it thrashed about.
Grrr!
His stomach growled at the most inappropriate moment. He blushed instinctively. That sound made Mihawk feel thoroughly embarrassed.
The other man chuckled and tossed the freshly caught fish in front of him. "Handle it yourself. You should know how to make a fire, right?"
Only then did