The sea calmed for a moment as the fog thinned, revealing the eerie image of Mihawk's tiny coffin boat floating amidst the wreckage.
Zoro took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed on the swordsman like a predator that had finally found a worthy hunt.
"That's Mihawk," he said, voice low but sure. "Dracule Mihawk... The strongest swordsman in the world."
Luffy tilted his head. "You wanna fight him, right?"
Zoro didn't answer. He just tightened the band on his left bicep and adjusted the grip on his blades.
Behind him, Dez clicked his tongue and leaned against a scorched pillar. "You know he cut a galleon in half with one swing, right?" he said dryly. "You ain't even at the level of cutting steel yet. You charge him now, you're gonna die."
Zoro smirked, not even turning. "Then I'll die standing. I'd rather fall trying to reach the top than live crawling underneath it."
Dez raised a brow. "Damn fool."
Luffy grinned. "Zoro!"
The swordsman turned just in time for Luffy to yank a rope taut and launch him into the air like a cannonball.
"GO FOLLOW YOUR DREAM!" Luffy shouted, voice echoing across the bay.
Zoro flew, a blur of green and steel, landing on Mihawk's tiny ship with grace and purpose.
Dez let out a sharp exhale through his nose. "Crazy bastards... all of 'em."
He turned and dragged Krieg and Gin's limp bodies across the dock with casual strength. The wires around them were tight, and the two were still unconscious, bruised, bloodied, and broken in pride more than body.
Usually, he'd just take the heads. Quicker, easier, and it paid the same.
But they reeked, and with the heat rising and no marine base nearby, it'd sour the air by nightfall.
"Not worth the stink," Dez muttered, hauling them aboard his custom cutter-class ship, a black-sailed vessel reinforced for solo travel. He shoved them both into his below-deck holding cell—a reinforced room built exactly for this kind of cargo.
Locks clicked. Door sealed.
He lit a short cigar and stepped back onto deck, crouching at the edge.
Out in the bay, Zoro stood face-to-face with Mihawk, who regarded him with the bored expression of a lion indulging a cub.
Dez took a long draw from the cigar and watched the waves gently lap the side of his boat.
"Alright, Zorro," he muttered. "Let's see what your pride is made of."
The duel was about to begin.
And Dez? He wouldn't miss it for the world.
---
Absolutely—here's the next chapter of Bullet Tide, following the iconic Zoro vs. Mihawk duel from Dez's perspective, while staying closely aligned with how the scene unfolds in the anime. You'll also get Dez's internal thoughts, commentary on the fight, and how he sees it through the lens of a gunslinger chasing his own summit.
---
The waves rocked gently against the hull of Dez's ship as he leaned over the side, elbows resting on the polished rail. Smoke curled from the lit end of his cigar, catching the sea breeze.
Out on the water, Zoro stood alone on Mihawk's tiny coffin boat, three swords drawn, eyes locked on the greatest swordsman in the world.
"Kid's got guts," Dez muttered.
Mihawk pulled out a blade.
But not the black sword on his back—not Yoru, the famed black blade that split Krieg's ship like paper. No, Mihawk unsheathed a small dagger, barely longer than a paring knife.
Dez blinked once, then scoffed. "Oh, damn. He's toying with him."
The fight began.
Zoro lunged forward with full strength, steel flashing like streaks of light.
But Mihawk didn't move his feet. He parried every strike with that little knife. Effortless. Precise. Calm.
Clang! Cling! CLANG!
Zoro pressed harder. Dez's eyes narrowed, tracing the footwork.
"No wasted steps," he noted. "That's a man who doesn't need to dodge. He just... is."
Mihawk didn't block with strength—he used positioning, timing, and angle. The way he guided Zoro's attacks away with a flick of his wrist reminded Dez of ricochet shots—bending energy, redirecting momentum.
Zoro growled and leapt back.
Then, with fury and pride in his voice:
"If you're not gonna fight seriously... then put that knife away!"
Dez raised a brow. "Careful what you wish for, swordsman."
Mihawk's eyes gleamed, and at last, he reached over his back and drew Yoru, the massive black sword.
The air felt heavier.
Dez leaned forward, attention locked.
Zoro roared and launched his Three Sword Style: Oni Giri.
Mihawk blocked it with a single swing and broke two of Zoro's swords in the same instant.
Silence.
Zoro dropped to his knees, heaving, bleeding.
Dez muttered under his breath, "Damn... that was fast."
But then Zoro turned to face Mihawk.
Arms wide.
"No shame in a wound to the back," Mihawk said.
Zoro replied, unwavering, "A wound on the back... is a swordsman's shame."
Mihawk smiled, impressed. And then, with a clean, swift slash, cut Zoro across the chest.
Dez exhaled through clenched teeth. "Took it like a man."
Zoro collapsed into the water. Luffy, Nami, and Usopp shouted from the deck of the Baratie, horrified.
But Mihawk didn't finish him. Instead, he looked down and said,
"You've got the will of a lion. Grow stronger, Roronoa Zoro. Surpass me... if you can."
Dez stood tall, tipping his hat back slightly. "He ain't dead."
A moment later, Zoro surfaced—bloody, weak, but alive.
Luffy roared in rage, ready to attack Mihawk, but Mihawk waved him off.
"I have no interest in fighting you today."
With that, the greatest swordsman turned and left, his little boat gliding calmly over the wreckage.
Dez watched him go.
Then glanced back at Zoro being hauled out of the water by Luffy.
He flicked the last ashes from his cigar.
"Crazy bastard. That'll leave a hell of a scar."
He turned, heading below deck where Krieg and Gin lay unconscious.
"Guess I'm not the only one chasing the summit," he muttered, pulling out a cloth to clean Dusk and Dawn.
Outside, the sea whispered.
Inside, Dez prepped for what came next.