A month later, on a calm stretch of sea in the first half of the Grand Line, an utterly bizarre scene was unfolding.
The signature coffin-shaped boat of Dracule Mihawk, the World's Greatest Swordsman, was racing along at an astonishing speed utterly at odds with its appearance.
And the way it was being propelled would have broken the heart of any swordsman who witnessed it.
On either side of the boat were the world's only two renowned Supreme Grade Blades forged into Black Blades.
(Shusui was also a Black Blade, but considering that Zoro later chose to return it in exchange for Enma, Shusui was more like a decorative treasure without an owner.)
Gern's Black Blade, Eight Desolations, and Mihawk's Black Blade, Yoru, were being wielded by their owners on either side, frantically paddling through the sea like ordinary oars.
Every "stroke" was a slash of supreme precision, compressing air and waves to generate powerful thrust and send the little coffin boat hurtling forward...
"I can't do this anymore! I can't!" Looking utterly done with life, Gern flung Eight Desolations aside and sprawled across the tiny deck without a shred of concern for his dignity, unable to keep himself from complaining.
"Seriously, Mihawk, do we really have to ride in this... highly distinctive 'vehicle' of yours?
"I'm a Marine Admiral and the New World Strategic Commander-in-Chief!
"You're the World's Greatest Swordsman!
"If some clueless reporter snaps a picture of this and puts it on the front page, both our reputations will be ruined for life!"
"That won't happen. Apart from you, Enel, and Kizaru..." Mihawk maintained his eternally icy expression, his wrist steady as he swung his Black Blade, Yoru, again.
A concentrated slash cut into the water, unleashing even greater thrust and sending the little boat surging forward.
At