Erwin's quiet existence shattered one morning when he spotted movement along the shore. Through a break in the trees, he glimpsed a ship anchored in a small bay—a pirate ship, its black flag bearing a symbol of a hawk's talon. A group of rough-looking men, armed and raucous, descended onto the beach, carrying sacks, weapons, and barrels. They were here to resupply, to search for fruit or to hunt some animals.
He watched from the cover of the trees, heart pounding. This was the first sign of humanity he'd seen since arriving on the island. The sudden noise, laughter, and crass shouts felt foreign after so many months of solitude. Part of him wanted to run, to avoid them entirely, but another part—the part that had honed his blood powers and learned to navigate this wilderness—told him that this was a rare opportunity. He needed supplies, information, and a way off this island. These pirates might just provide him with everything he needed.
But he would have to be careful. If he underestimated them, he'd be risking everything he'd worked so hard for. He crept closer, keeping to the shadows, observing them from a safe distance as they spread out along the beach and into the forest, setting up a temporary camp. There were about a dozen of them, all rough and heavily armed.
Among them was a large man with a grizzled beard and a bandolier across his chest. From his commanding tone and the way the others deferred to him, Erwin guessed this was the captain. He memorized the man's face, noting the long scar that ran across his cheek and the cruel glint in his eyes.
He decided to wait until nightfall to make his move.
When darkness fell, Erwin moved silently through the trees, his eyes fixed on the flickering glow of the pirates' campfire. The men had gathered around it, laughing, drinking, and sharing stories in loud voices. Erwin's mouth tightened. These weren't the kind of people who respected life, and the sight only hardened his resolve.
He positioned himself behind a tree near the edge of their camp, watching as one of the pirates wandered away from the fire to relieve himself. Erwin saw his chance. As the pirate stepped into the shadows, Erwin crept up behind him, quick as a wisp of smoke, and placed a hand over his mouth.
"Don't scream," he hissed, pressing his knife—a small but effective Blood Knife he'd crafted—against the man's throat.
The pirate's eyes widened, his body stiffening as Erwin tightened his grip.
"I need some answers," Erwin whispered. "Where are we, and what year is it?"
The pirate hesitated, then muttered, "It's… it's 1486. And this is some nameless island in the East Blue."
Erwin's pulse quickened. 1486… He calculated quickly. It had been a year since he'd first arrived, meaning he'd been training here since 1485. But what the pirate said next caught his full attention.
"And a month ago, Rocks D. Xebec was defeated by Garp the Hero of the Marines."
The God Valley Incident. Erwin recognized this event from the manga—a turning point in the world of One Piece that marked the end of Rocks D. Xebec's influence. He processed the information quickly, steadying his focus before moving to the next question.
"Who are you?" Erwin asked, tightening his hold.
"We're the Hawk Pirates," the man stammered. "Captain John Hawk's our leader. He's worth four million berries!"
The bounty wasn't high by the Grand Line standards, but for East Blue, four million was considerable. This "Captain" John Hawk was no small-time thug. Satisfied, Erwin delivered a swift blow to the man's temple, knocking him out cold. Then, using the shadows as cover, he returned to his vantage point, planning his next move.
One by one, Erwin began thinning out the pirates, taking advantage of their lax vigilance in the dead of night. Moving silently from shadow to shadow, he used his blood to make a hammer to take down those who wandered from the fire. By the time dawn approached, half the crew was either unconscious or incapacitated, leaving only a few remaining pirates on high alert, including their captain.
When the first hint of dawn broke through the trees, Erwin knew he'd run out of time for stealth. The remaining pirates had realized something was wrong, and Captain John Hawk had risen, shouting orders to search the area.
"Find whoever's been picking us off!" Hawk roared, his voice rough and commanding. "I want them dead by the time the sun's up!"
Erwin emerged from the shadows, stepping into the clearing just beyond the campfire. His clothes were damp with dew, his face calm and resolved. Hawk spotted him immediately, his eyes narrowing.
"So, you're the rat who's been taking down my men," Hawk sneered, drawing a large, serrated cutlass from his belt.
"I don't mean to intrude," Erwin said evenly, keeping his voice steady, "but I could use some supplies, and you're not exactly the friendly sort."
Hawk laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "You've got guts, kid. But no one crosses the Hawk Pirates and lives to tell about it." He raised his cutlass, nodding to his remaining crew to circle around Erwin.
Erwin's heart pounded as he summoned the Blood Sword, the dark red blade forming in his hand with a flicker of energy. The remaining pirates hesitated, their eyes widening at the sight of the blood-forged weapon, but Hawk charged forward, undeterred.
The clash was brutal. Hawk swung his cutlass with surprising speed, each strike heavy and precise. Erwin deflected blow after blow, but his inexperience in fighting humans showed. Several times he overcommitted to an attack, leaving himself open, and he narrowly avoided taking blows that could have ended the fight then and there.
At one point, he misjudged Hawk's feint and staggered back as the pirate's cutlass grazed his side, tearing into his shirt and leaving a shallow cut. Erwin gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of pain and the cold rush of adrenaline. The captain was stronger and more experienced, and his strikes were heavy, making them difficult to parry with the lighter Blood Sword.
But Erwin had one advantage—his speed. He focused, breathing steadily, and began to dodge Hawk's attacks rather than blocking them. Hawk's swings grew wilder as Erwin forced him to miss, wearing him down with each failed strike.
The pirates surrounding them shouted and jeered, cheering their captain on. Erwin blocked them out, focusing solely on Hawk's movements, his footwork, his breathing. Every feint, every slash, he read like a map, searching for the weak spot that would turn the tide of the fight.
Finally, it came. Hawk overextended on a heavy downward swing, his cutlass momentarily leaving his chest exposed. Erwin seized the opportunity, lunging forward with a swift thrust of his Blood Sword, aiming for the captain's shoulder.
The blade bit deep, and Hawk let out a snarl of pain, staggering back as blood seeped from the wound. He swung his cutlass wildly, desperation replacing precision, but Erwin danced around him, landing a second, then a third strike, each one further weakening his opponent.
Realizing his captain was losing, one of the remaining pirates charged at Erwin from the side, but Erwin anticipated the attack, sidestepping and slashing with the Blood Sword. The pirate fell back, clutching his arm, and the others hesitated, their confidence visibly shaken.
Hawk glared at Erwin, fury etched on his face. "You… you're not just some castaway," he spat, his voice low and venomous. "What are you?"
Erwin met his gaze, unwaveringly. "I'm just a human."
With a final, determined strike, he swung the Blood Sword in a wide arc, slashing Hawk across the chest. The captain fell to his knees, gasping as blood stained his shirt, and with one last swing, Erwin ended the fight.
Silence fell over the clearing. The remaining pirates, seeing their captain defeated, scrambled toward the trees, disappearing into the forest in a panic. Erwin lowered his blade, letting his blood return to his hand as he took a deep, steadying breath. The thrill of victory filled him, tempered by exhaustion and the sharp awareness of what he'd just done.
After catching his breath, Erwin searched the camp, gathering supplies. In one of Hawk's leather pouches, he found a map of the East Blue and a compass. Both items were faded and worn, but they were exactly what he needed.
Rolling up the map, he slung a sack of provisions over his shoulder and made his way to the shore, where the Hawk Pirates' ship lay anchored. The vessel was modest, but it was seaworthy, and he needed it more than they did.
After he boarded, he took a knife to the ship's black flag, tearing it down and tossing it onto the sea. He had no intention of sailing under a pirate's banner. With the flag removed, he climbed down, feeling a surge of anticipation as he prepared to set sail.
As the sun rose, casting a warm glow over the island, Erwin guided the ship away from the shore, the waves lapping gently against the hull. He unfurled the map and studied it, his gaze settling on the closest marked location: Shimotsuki Village. The name struck a chord, a place he remembered from stories—Zoro's home village.