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The speaker himself was about to face another arrangement.
By then, the confrontation on the docks had dispersed.
Crocodile disappeared into the shadows cast by the buildings. Rossi narrowed his eyes at the sun's position, then turned and walked in the opposite direction.
The hem of his black coat swept the ground, stirring up fine dust that tumbled and drifted through the shafts of light.
The hourly chime rang from a distant tower, startling a flock of gray pigeons perched on a rooftop.
Another warship slowly drew alongside the dock, and a man stepped down from its deck.
"Looks like I won't be lonely."
He had a short beard on his chin, white down trimming the brim of his black top hat, and dark patterns spreading across his burgundy shirt.
His black coat hung to his knees, and his white trousers were tucked into ankle boots.
A cross pendant hung against his chest, while on his back he carried a blade taller than a man-its hilt studded with gems, its overall shape that of a cross.
Dracule Mihawk.
Not long ago, he had reached an agreement with the Five Elders and become one of the Shichibukai.
"Rossi."
Those hawklike golden eyes turned to the other side.
"-Crocodile. It's been a long time."
"Meeting in a place like this. Fate really is interesting."
Rossi's gaze passed over his shoulder and settled on the long blade.
Something flickered deep in his eyes.
Pure black. Utterly black.
He hadn't expected Mihawk to take that step first.
His own Sandai Kitetsu was still half crimson and half dark, a hair's breadth short of a complete transformation.
"Let's spar another day."
Mihawk's invitation was brief and direct.
Rossi nodded.
"Sure."
"We can borrow the Marine training grounds."
As the two made their arrangements