In the vast Training Ground specially cleared out behind G-10 Base, there was enough room for the monsters to cut loose.
Gern had just put away his Den Den Mushi after confirming that Kuma had finished handling matters with the Revolutionary Army and met up with Enel.
"Seems things are going well. After all, not many people can put up with Enel's sharp tongue!"
At that thought, a satisfied smile unconsciously tugged at Gern's lips. Everything was moving steadily in the direction he had envisioned.
He turned his gaze toward the solitary, aloof figure standing at the other end of the Training Ground.
Hawk-Eye held Yoru, one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades, with its tip angled toward the ground. An imposing aura radiated from him; clearly, he was ready to spar.
Seeing how serious he looked, Gern suddenly felt mischievous and teased him with a grin. "Hey, Mihawk.
"Say, before you swing, why not try composing a poem or something? Give yourself a little more presence and style."
"A poem?" A distinct flicker of confusion crossed Hawk-Eye's falcon-sharp eyes, and his brow furrowed slightly. "What sort of poem?"
"Oh, you know!" Gern gestured, imitating the dramatic tone he imagined. "Before swinging, you could recite something like, 'Across three thousand worlds, the dust settles.'
"Or, 'Beneath this blade, nothing remains uncut.' Or even, 'The boundless worlds fall to a single slash'... Doesn't that sound cool?"
At Gern's ridiculous suggestion, Hawk-Eye's expression instantly darkened, and his grip instinctively tightened around Yoru's hilt.
Damn it! To him, Gern's words were nothing short of a roundabout jab that his blade wasn't fast or sharp enough, and he had to make up for it with empty talk!
"You bastard..." Hawk-Eye forced the words through clenched teeth, a spark of anger at the provocation flaring