FindersKeepers (Dracule Mihawk x OC)

New Worlds

|Mihawk's Vessel Traveling Away from Aster Island|

As their ship sails away from Astera's home, a mysterious green haze envelops the air, signaling a dramatic shift from the bright sunny day to a stormy sea. The air ahead glows with an eerie green light, while a pale purple hue illuminates the space behind them. The once calm waters become increasingly turbulent, with waves crashing over the bow and rain lashing the deck. Amidst the chaos, Mihawk's thoughts drift back to a previous journey through these treacherous waters, haunted by the memory of rogue waves that had once overwhelmed him, leaving him stranded on Astera's shore.

As the wind screams with a primal fury, colossal waves loom over the boat, each one a towering giant intent on its destruction. The sky is a battleground of lightning, each flash a blade slicing through the darkness, accompanied by the deep, menacing growl of thunder that seems to shake the very air. The further they sail from Aster Island, the more hellish the storm becomes, as if the sea itself is enraged, seeking to reclaim them into its chaotic depths. Jinx is petrified, her paws clawed into the deck as if trying to merge with the wood, her face a mask of sheer terror. Astera, equally overwhelmed by the storm's wrath, is a statue of desperation, her back to the bow, hands clenched so tight her knuckles are bloodless, her feet rooted to the deck as it pitches and rolls beneath her.

Mihawk deftly maneuvers the boat, his expertise pushed to the limit by the ferocity of the storm. Now, he understands the misfortune that befell him during his first voyage through these treacherous waters. This storm, with its relentless, churning energy, is a phenomenon the Grand Line has seldom witnessed. It keeps the sea in a state of constant upheaval, with waves assaulting from every direction, whirlpools forming with a bottomless appetite, and windstorms swirling with wild abandon. Suddenly, a massive wave rises from the starboard, sweeping across the deck in a furious cascade, nearly tipping them over. Astera's hair falls like a wet curtain across her face, and she hastily spits out seawater. With a swipe of her hand, she clears the drenched strands from her eyes and looks towards Mihawk, her gaze laden with a silent plea for reassurance, the longing for her island home etched deeply in her expression.

Mihawk's expression remains impassive, his attention unwavering as he surveys the restless sea, seeking a viable passage through the storm. Employing his observation haki, he attempts to predict the waves' movements, yet for every wave he anticipates, another catches him off guard-a challenge he hasn't faced in decades. The storm seems sentient, different than ones of the past, this one seems intent on devouring them, eager to drag them into the abyss.

As Mihawk steers the boat to dodge a looming rogue wave, he finds himself immediately confronting another. With the path over the waves ruled out, he knows he must find an alternative route. Just as he prepares to maneuver, a surprising sight catches his eye: a flock of small birds weaves through the storm, unaffected by the chaos, their adept flight offering a potential guide through the uproar. The resilience of these tiny creatures against the storm's wrath sparks a blend of curiosity and hope in Mihawk.

Astera's eyes spark with recognition at the sight of the birds. She eagerly points them out to Mihawk, her gestures reinforcing his own intuition to use them as guides. Tapping into his Haki, Mihawk extends his senses, peering seconds ahead to anticipate their intricate dance through the storm. In a synchronized flourish, the birds expand their wings, allowing the fierce wind to propel them backward before they sharply veer to the right. Seizing the cue, Mihawk executes a swift maneuver, steering the boat hard to portside. His timely action is confirmed moments later when a colossal wave crashes with devastating force exactly where they had been.

Guided by the birds, Mihawk navigates the storm until, in an almost magical instant, the chaos subsides. The waters still, the winds die, and sunlight bathes them in a serene glow. Jinx and Astera, seated on the deck, wear expressions of mixed relief and frustration, contemplating braving the storm once more just to return to their familiar shores. The weary birds find refuge across the ship, settling in for a well-deserved rest. One even chooses the brim of Mihawk's hat as its perch. Their tiny head crests, reminiscent of miniature devil horns, lie flat against their heads as they drift into slumber.