"Mihawk!?" Shirakawa exclaimed.
"What? Do you know my brother?" Jorah asked, surprised by Shirakawa's tone.
"Not personally, but the name sounds familiar."
'How could it not be familiar?' Shirakawa thought. 'Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman, a legend, the goal of all swordsmen.'
He wondered if this Mihawk was the same one he knew from One Piece.
"Where is your brother now?" Shirakawa asked.
"He left a month ago," Jorah replied. "He said he wanted to challenge all the strong swordsmen in the world with even stronger swordsmanship."
'So it is him,' Shirakawa thought, even more convinced that Jorah's brother was indeed the future Dracule Mihawk.
He couldn't help but look at Jorah strangely. 'Mihawk becomes the world's greatest, and his brother remains unknown? Either he never made a name for himself or died along the way. Either way, it's a far cry from his brother's achievements.'
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jorah asked, feeling uncomfortable under Shirakawa's gaze.
"Nothing," Shirakawa replied.
"Weird," Jorah muttered and continued walking towards his home.
Jorah's home was quite remote, situated on the mountainside. He explained that his master had chosen this location.
"Is your master strong?" Shirakawa asked.
"Of course. He taught me everything I know. I've never met anyone stronger."
"Really?" Shirakawa felt a surge of excitement. He relished the challenge of facing powerful swordsmen.
"Master, I'm back," Jorah announced, opening the door. Inside, an old man was basking in the sun, a fan in his hand.
The old man was short, about 1.23 meters tall. He looked unassuming, nothing like a powerful swordsman. He reminded Shirakawa of Rayleigh in his later years.
"Jorah, you're back. How did it go?" the old man asked, his voice surprisingly deep.
"I won first place, as expected."
"Good. You didn't disappoint me." The old man opened one eye and looked at Jorah. "What's with the injury? Could someone in that competition actually hurt you?"
It was unusual for skilled swordsmen to participate in such events. Jorah should have easily dominated.
"No, Master. This injury... it was from the man beside me."
"Oh?" The old man opened both eyes, looking at Shirakawa with interest.
Shirakawa felt a bit awkward. 'Admitting your disciple was injured by me, in front of his master?'
Before he could dwell on it, the old man vanished from the rocking chair. Shirakawa sensed something and instantly drew his sword, blocking just in time.
Jorah's master appeared before him, wielding a fan that had turned pitch black, imbued with Armament Haki.
Shirakawa responded in kind, coating his sword with Haki. The fan and sword clashed, locked in a stalemate.
Jorah's master stepped back. "Not bad, young man."
"You're too kind, sir," Shirakawa replied, bowing slightly. The clash seemed simple, but Shirakawa had used over 50% of his strength. The old man didn't appear to have used his full power.
"However," the old man continued, "I can't let you off for injuring my apprentice."
"Master, there's no need," Jorah interjected. He didn't want his master fighting his battles.
"Silence. This is not your concern."
Jorah looked dejected. He understood his master's true intentions.
"What do you propose, sir?" Shirakawa asked.
"A duel," the old man said with a smile, a glint in his eyes.
"I accept."
The old man's smile widened.
His name was Or, once a powerful swordsman who had retired to this secluded life. But the desire for a good fight still burned within him.
He'd waited a long time for a worthy opponent. Finding none, he'd turned his attention to teaching apprentices.
He'd found two talented students: Jorah and Mihawk.
But it would take time for them to mature.
Seeing Shirakawa, Or's fighting spirit reignited. This young man seemed capable; perhaps he could provide a decent challenge.
Or went inside and returned with a sword, about 100 centimeters long. It looked perfectly balanced in his hands, despite the size difference.
"Master's serious," Jorah whispered. It was the first time he'd seen his master draw his sword for a fight.
He'd underestimated Shirakawa's strength.
"This is Kaiganmaru, a 21 grade sword. It's been my partner for many years. I didn't expect to use it again."
'A 21 grade sword,' Shirakawa thought. It was a grade above his own, but that wasn't a problem.
Or gazed at the sword, lost in memories of past battles, cleaving mountains and parting seas.
Shirakawa didn't rush him. He was also preparing himself. Or was undoubtedly a master swordsman. This would be Shirakawa's first true duel against such an opponent.
He felt a mix of nervousness and excitement.
"Are you scared, boy? Your hands are shaking," Or observed.
"No way. This is thrilling! I've faced stronger opponents than you. I'm not afraid."
"Good. Then let's begin, shall we?"
"Of course."