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Summary
Mihawk never thought about death, he never needed to, he was strong. Never surrounded by people worth grieving, endlessly slaughtering marines whose lives to him were not worth caring for. The Future Worlds Greatest Swordsman lived his life to the fullest, as he thought Mother Nature instructed him to. Head straight facing his goal, a busy man never stopped to deal with things like grief. Mihawk was raised alone, he fought alone, he survived alone. Each step in his life, every breath, meant to climb the same bastardly path. Mihawk was fine in his routine, believing he was only meant to be the greatest.