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He’d recognize this Haki anywhere. Of course, the reckless drunkard had to show up now, defend the pink haired marine brat. He's always had a soft spot for kids, that idiot. Mihawk determines it is time to leave, before this untimely reunion pulls him into any more chaos he hasn’t bargained for. He returns Yoru to its home on his back, slowly walking away.
“Hawkeye, where are you going?” The Marine challenges.
He glares back, authority in voice to ensure the Marines know his presence is his decision. “I agreed to fight Whitebeard, Akagami is not in the agreement. It’s time to quit.”
He wonders how Shanks must feel right now as he looks down at the smiling corpse of the biological son of his adoptive father, whose exact features Ace shares.
Mihawk arrives back on Kuraigana, surprised. The humandrills seem to be crowding a silhouette until they sense his arrival. A silhouette of a man on what should be his empty island. A figure that looks to be topped with spiky clumps of green hair.
As he approaches his sharp eyes narrow in on Roronoa Zoro’s, pupils shrunken into practically nothing in his glassy eyes with a certain level of clarity, pools of reflective steel. The expression is much the same as Shank’s demanding the end of the war. The young man is broken, physically torn to parts, it doesn’t seem like the baboons are the only thing that got to him.
That still does not explain why he’s appeared on his island, in front of his castle.
“I got blown away by Kuma, a member of the seven warlords like yourself.” The younger swordsman flings the words at him like an insult.
That explains why the Strawhats captain was on Marineford to begin with.
The steel grey of his gets covered in blown out pupils as Roronoa demands to know the state of his captain.
And just as quickly as his eyes changed before, Mihawk swears he can see the beginning of ripples of tears welling now at the news of Portgas D. Ace’s passing. Yet another reminder of why he chose this, to live alone in this castle, this island where his strength and the appeal of dismantling or subjugating it could distance himself from touching anyone he cared for.
Training the brat’s been worthwhile, he considers. The seasons pass, six if Mihawk’s tracked correctly. The little rabbit’s gotten considerably stronger, and can now even use haki and launch effective strikes instead of just holding a parry. The sheer strength contrasted with Mihawk’s own speed and reflexes, reminding him of a time when he and Shanks used to clash for the sheer entertainment of it.
Zoro strikes again, one sword coated in haki, holding Yoru off while the cursed sword strikes offensively. Maybe it’s the unusual color of hair. Mihawk frees the hold, lunging forward before he quickly dodges altogether. Maybe it’s that toothy smile, both eyes closed while the skin bunches at the out corners once Zoro leverages an odd angle to nearly disarm Yoru from him altogether for the first time. Damn it, maybe it’s the dominant left hand. But it’s not him, Mihawk logically knows it’s not him, because he pushed Shanks away decades ago now. And that knowing eats at him, makes his lonely soul sting full of resentment and self-hatred. Makes his selfish and cowardly heart demand to be reckoned with somehow, and before he can discern what’s happening, he comes to find Perona screaming in terror. The end of Yoru gashing across that beautiful face before it’s lodged into the young man’s left eye socket to correct the missing slashes Mihawk's come to expect there.
Mihawk withdraws in horror, another thing the young man will have now to taunt the Warlord at the resemblance. This time, Mihawk put there of his own making.