Before Your Eyes

A pair of seagulls crossed the clear sky above the vibrant waters of the East Blue.

Sailing below was the Hitsugibune. Mihawk sat aboard, his gaze drawn to the space beside his left foot, where the second gift from the Almighty lay with a handwritten note resting atop it.

He bent forward and retrieved the note from atop the folded garment. The texture against his fingers was neither paper nor vellum, but something with a soft fibrous quality reminiscent of pressed linen.

Jet-black ink stood out against its creamy sepia surface, matching the dark color of the garment below. In the top left corner, next to web-like cracks spreading across the surface, sat the divine handwriting of the Almighty:

'You are wondering why I withheld information about my second and third gifts from your memory. Well, I wished to contact you one more time.

That jet-black attire near your foot is the Nameless Cloak. For one who has spent their life in twilight only to be thrust into the limelight, I decided to help ease your transition.

The Nameless Cloak provides absolute concealment. It renders you immune to all forms of Observation Haki except Future Sight, as well as any Devil Fruits that would uncover your identity.

You are thinking right now that this ability is overpowered. It is. But it has one clear limitation: you cannot attack while wearing it. The finer details of the Nameless Cloak will become clear twice: once when you touch it and once when you wear it.

To conclude, you will soon face a choice: Twilight or limelight. I trust you will choose wisely when that moment comes.'

The letter vanished from his grip the moment he finished reading. Unfazed, he reached for the Nameless Cloak, only to witness it dissolve into shadow and flow into his left palm.

Curious, he flipped over his hand and saw that there now existed at the center a jet-black cross tattoo.

A snippet of information flashed in his mind.

With a thought, the Nameless Cloak adorned and conformed to his body.

Yoru and his attire, whether that be the wide-brimmed black hat decorated with a large plume on his head or the long and open black coat that cascaded down to his feet, both were gone.

Mihawk leaned forward in his seat and traced his fingers across his head and back. It was as if he weren't wearing any clothing underneath.

Like the Almighty said, the rest of the information concerning the Cloak entered his mind. Fortunately, it was not accompanied by a sharp pain lancing through his head this time.

With another thought, the Nameless Cloak was sucked back into his palm and to no surprise, his clothing, Yoru and even the knife pendant shaped like a cross hanging from his neck, Kogatana, were there as though they hadn't phased out of reality.

Where the Cloak had been now rested another note, identical to the previous one. However, the third gift wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Mihawk brought the note up and leaned back in his ship's seat.

'Final note.

You are musing about the final gift's absence. There is no need to. For you shall receive it upon my last written word.

The third gift is named the Guiding Word. You cannot make use of it at this time as it ties back to your first gift. All you need to know is that its purpose will be unveiled once you have expanded your crew by a certain amount.

Can you guess the number?

It matters not either way.

Knowing you, it's certain you have planned out your crew. Not just them but every little detail right until the end.

But plans do not always work out, do they...?

Which brings us to the part you won't appreciate. The myriad lives you extraught back on Earth... how many of them were innocent? Your guess is far too low, and I'm afraid your actions have created a debt.

A debt you are responsible for creating. A debt whose consequences others in this world will pay with their lives. Lives that held grand ambitions, hopes, and promises; lives that would have altered the very shape of the world.

Live with this truth. Live with the guilt. Live with the drive for atonement.

This world you cherish, this world you inhabit... holds those whose time grows thin. Thus, you must be brisk with your pace, for your intended crew mates and those beyond your original plans who still draw breath won't for much longer.

Know this: I Am one who does not change. My wrath permeates, as you witnessed. But I am also love, as you will see.

There are rays of sunshine that shall pierce through the tenebrous clouds above. Those rays being grace made manifest – positive alterations to balance the darkness. May you seize them. May you feel their warmth. May your love be unconditional and eternal.

Now go forth.

Seek your joyful evermore, my favorite 'auditor,' and it will lie stretched out before your eyes.'

As soon as Mihawk finished reading, with no time to reflect, the words on the page melted together at the center of the linen-like page before streaming straight off and onto the back of his left hand.

When the shadowy stream of ink fully entered his hand and took shape, the blank note vanished from his grasp.

This new tattoo, representing the Guiding Word, was that of an intricate compass rose. No larger than the top of a man's thumb, its shape formed four sharp, dagger-like points around a small, hollow circle at its center.

"Okay... okay, the wind's about to calm back down. They have to pass back through here soon. Wait, was that the top of their boat's mast?"

A woman's voice floated to him on the wind from his right. Though her figure remained hidden beyond the light-blue waves that had grown restless.

Having gained all the capabilities of Dracule Mihawk, absent the man's memories or will, allowed him to preserve his own identity while making his next action feel as natural as breathing: using Observation Haki.

Darkness swallowed his vision. Around two hundred meters away, he perceived the woman's candescent yellow silhouette draped over what must've been her dinghy's railing.

Mihawk's decision came swiftly. First, he donned the Nameless Cloak and second made the Hitsugibune sail rightward.

☠ ☠ ☠

Nami stared at her reflection in the calm, warm seawater that submerged her right hand.

She'd been waiting adrift for what? An hour? Two? The time didn't matter as long as she went away with a hefty sum.

This whole setup had taken shape after scouting out Orange Town. The Buggy Pirates had seized the settlement, and she'd overheard three idiots from the crew bragging about their plan to rob a small ship.

An ample opportunity for her to earn a good chunk of berries. Then she could return to Orange Town and steal the map of the Grand Line.

Nami understood well how these men operated. She also understood her own beauty. Whether playing the damsel in distress or getting some drunk pirate to spill his coin purse after too many rounds, the approach varied, but the marks stayed predictable.

Today's performance: sole survivor of a terrible wreck. How remarkably fortunate that she'd rescued the ornate treasure chest resting behind her as her ship went down.

Believable? Hardly. But pirates weren't smart enough to question such a discrepancy.

Any second now.

The sound of water splashing against wood reached her ears, growing closer. Too early to look up yet. She held still as the gentle lapping grew distinct and then stopped right beside her small boat.

Now came the time for her act. A routine she had perfected in countless variations ever since joining the Arlong Pirates.

She found it strange that the pirates weren't speaking, but she couldn't wait too long or she would miss her ideal window of opportunity.

Nami lifted her head and began, "Ah, am I dream—"