Chapter Text
Pointless didn't begin to describe this trip. The lab had been abandoned for what looked like years, dust covering every surface he saw. A few scraps of paper littered the floor, destroyed equipment lining the walls. There was someone still in the lab, Mihawk could sense them. But the person was weak, barely alive. Most likely a pirate or some other criminal that found the base and hoped it would be the perfect place to hide from the World Government.
It wasn't.
Mihawk scanned the building as he moved, searching for a way down to the weakling floors below him. Any Marine recruit could have done this. Why they insisted on sending Mihawk , he couldn't fathom.
Or, rather he could. The World Government loved to remind him that he had made an agreement and they could ask him to go anywhere at anytime. It was very bothersome, but also not overly common. The number of times he had to run errands for the Government paled in comparison to the number of naps bounty hunters and Marine vessels interrupted.
The switch to the lower floors proved impossible to find. Mihawk shouldn't be surprised. Vegapunk was considered a genius for a reason.
But even genius couldn't defend against everything.
A single swipe of Yuro's blade cracked the floor, cement splitting down to the foundation. In the distance, Mihawk makes out a whimper. Sliding Yuro back into its place, he frowns down at the hole in the floor. So, not only is whoever's hiding a weakling, they're also a coward.
His boots thudded against the bottom of the lab as he landed. The sound echoed through the empty hallways. In the distance, feet scrambled against cement and someone whimpers softly.
It sounded... small. Too small.
A horrible stench wafted through the corridor. Mihawk struggled to swallow the vomit bubbling at the base of his throat. He could taste the rot in the air as he made his way deeper into the lab.
The smell was too fresh to be years old. Which would explain why the World Government wanted him here instead of some green Marines. Someone was still in the lab.
Bars lined the hallway around him. Peeking in, Mihawk spotted bodies lining the floors behind the cell doors. Very small bodies.
Children.
Mihawk drew in a deep, steadying breath and almost choked on the decay in the air.
He'd seen horrors. More horrors than he cared to admit or to remember. But this would rank among the worst of them. Rotting and twisting corpses, missing limbs or sliced wide open. All of them children.
Setting his jaw, Mihawk forced himself to continue on. A steel door sat at the end of the hallway and Mihawk quickened his pace as he approached it. He could feel the person in there, the weakling who whimpered when he cut the floor.
But, was it a weakling? Was he truly after a hiding pirate? Or...
He cast a glance toward the cell closest to the door. Like the others, mangled corpses lay inside. These had more skin, their faces twisted in screams.
Steeling himself, Mihawk forced the door open.
Lights flickered and buzzed overhead, their fluorescent glow stabbing Mihawk's eye. Incoherent scribblings covered the walls, equations crossed out and rewritten dozens of times. Notebooks and papers filled the tables, unknown substances filled vials lining stainless steel table tops. Garbage covered the floors, discarded food wrappers and bones of cooked meat.
But Mihawk's gaze locked on the white sword leaning against one of the tables. It cried out to him, begging to be freed from the darkness surrounding him. He could feel its power, its beauty.
The blade all but cried when he reached out and stroke his fingers down its hilt. It looked so familiar. He knew this blade.
But how?
A chain rattled from the corner, someone scrambling around. Mihawk turned toward the nose. A flash of green caught his eye as it tried to move behind a counter, out of view.
The person - the child - growled as Mihawk stepped toward him. Knots matted his long green hair and the hospital gown he wore was filthy and torn. He stunk like bodily fluids and waste, though it was preferable to the decay of the hallway. Despite the harsh snarl, his lip curled up and teeth bared to look threatening, all Mihawk saw in his deep brown eyes was fear. He was thin, unbelievably thin, and his visible skin had bruises of all sizes.
"It's alright, child," Mihawk said calmly. "I mean you no harm."
Trying to press himself further into the wall, the child hissed at him. Metal rattled again. Mihawk glanced down. A cuffed wrapped around the boy's leg, barely hanging on to his thin ankle, and kept him tethered to the corner.
"What is your name?" Mihawk tried, squatting down so they would at least be eye level.
It proved to be a mistake. The boy lunged toward him, teeth gnashing with every intention of biting. Only the short chain kept him from reaching Mihawk. A painful crack split the air as the chain reached its end and the boy dropped to the ground. He whimpered like a wounded animal and scrambled to crawl back to his corner, favoring his right leg.
Sighing, Mihawk glanced around the lab again. Children were not his forte. Even when he was a child, he never got on overly well with young ones. They were difficult to understand or relate to. A feral child was far out of his abilities. But, he couldn't leave the boy. Not in this hellhole. There was no sign of a key to unlock the boy with, so Yuro would have to do once again.
"Alright, child," Mihawk said. "Listen to me. I am going to free you from your chain. But, first I must gather the work here. Do you understand?"
A hiss was his response.
It was as good as he was going to get. The boy flinched back harshly when Mihawk stood, hissing and spitting like a tiger cub. Gathering the data didn't take long. Mihawk sent his snail to record the ramblings on the wall as he gathered every piece of paper into his bag.
From the corner, the child watched him. His brown eyes were wary, fearful, but attentive. Determined. Even if he immediately looked away anytime, Mihawk so much as glanced in his direction.
Like the young humandrills that would gather to watch him while their parents were hunting for food. Their eyes glittered with the same fear but interest and determination.
Setting down the bag of papers, Mihawk pulled his lunch out and settled himself in front of the boy again. His nose crinkled in another snarl, but his nervous brown eyes locked onto the bento box in Mihawk's hand. The sweet smell of onigiri wafted around them, suffocating the wretched smell of death.
The boy's tongue darted out and licked his lips.
Gingerly, Mihawk pulled one of the rice balls out. The boy snarled, backing himself into the corner when Mihawk held the food out. Perhaps he'd moved too quickly. Or he'd gotten too close for the boy's taste. But he didn't want to place the food on the floor. Not with the state of filth around them.
They stared at each other. Mihawk didn't bother to count how many minutes past before the child inched forward and snatched the rice ball. Watching him eat was like watching an animal. He ripped into the food with his teeth, shaking his head as though trying to tear meat from the bone, despite the rice being easy to chew.
It took mere seconds for him to finish every grain of rice, even licking the rice debris from the filthy floor. Mihawk cringed. Then those brown eyes locked on him again, tongue tracing his lips and head cocking to the side.
"Would you like another?" Mihawk asked, reaching for the bento box.
The boy watched every movement carefully, all but drooling as Mihawk pulled out another rice ball. It was gone as quickly as the first, the floor licked clean of every ounce of food. The boy licked his lips, like a dog licking its chops.
Nodding to himself, Mihawk stood again. The boy growled again, his eyes trailing Mihawk as he reached for Yuro.
"Our time is limited, Child," Mihawk told him. "I'm going to free your leg and we will leave together. Yes?"
The boy snarled. Mihawk decided it was a yes.
With practiced ease, Mihawk flicked Yuro down. The chain shattered, bits of metal scattering around them. A whine left the boy's lips and he scrambled away from Mihawk as quickly as he could. He barely made it five feet before his body gave out.
Mihawk stepped toward him and the boy began spitting and snarling at him like a cat again, but it was far weaker this time. Logically, Mihawk knew he needed to be patient, but he was tired and hungry.
"Stop that," he said firmly.
The spitting stopped, falling into pitiful growls and whimpers. Pulling his jacket off, Mihawk wrapped it around the boy and plucked him from the floor. The boy squirmed, weakly trying to push away from Mihawk to no avail.
"You are alright, Child," Mihawk said. "I have no intentions to harm you."
The boy continued to squirm weakly, even as Mihawk carried him out of the room. He was so consumed by the child in his arms, he nearly forgot to grab the paperwork he'd gathered and the blade that begged him for help.
All of the child's movements stopped the moment they entered the hallway of cells. The boy whimpered, suddenly dead weight in his arms. Panicked, Mihawk stopped to look down at the boy. Relief filled him when he found the boy was still breathing, still alive.
Instead of snarling, the boy broke out into sobs. He clung to Mihawk, his nose buried in Mihawk's shoulder.
"-ina," the boy whined around sobs.
Furrowing his brow, Mihawk tightened his grip on the boy and continued on. The soft cries of "ina" continued, his voice broken and weak.
"Alright, Child," Mihawk said softly. "You are alright."