When that young man with the massive black blade showed up in front of him.
Ozz had to admit,
He was a little intrigued.
Sure, he'd heard of this Mihawk kid another one of those ambitious types like Roronoa Zoro, running around challenging swordsmen left and right in pursuit of becoming the world's greatest.
But what Ozz didn't expect was how fast the kid would come knocking.
Let's rewind to three days earlier.
When Mihawk first arrived and found out Ozz wasn't around, he didn't raise a fuss. He simply started pacing outside the red-light district. And he kept at it, for three days and three nights.
Eventually, someone from the staff couldn't take it anymore and went up to ask what the hell he was doing.
That's when they found out he was here to challenge Lord Ozz.
When Sammy heard about it, she didn't take it seriously either.
After all, Lord Ozz's name echoed across the Grand Line. If every stray cat and dog who came looking for a fight had to be taken seriously...
They'd never know peace.
And so it was that the future World's Greatest Swordsman, future Warlord of the Sea, and future Father of Emperors, Dracule Mihawk.
Ended up squatting like a damn sentry at the edge of the red-light district.
His hawk-like eyes swept every passerby, more vigilant than a security guard checking food delivery guys. God forbid he missed his mark.
Little did he know...
A figure had already crossed the boundary of space and quietly appeared at a certain bathhouse deep within the red-light district.
After days of training his Devil Fruit powers and surviving in the wild, Ozz was dusty, tired, and travel-worn.
Now, under the shocked and anxious reception of the bathhouse manager, he stripped off his clothes, slid into the hot spring, and finally began enjoying a rare moment of peace.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
Sammy marched in with an entire battalion of beautiful attendants and mountains of gourmet food. A full VIP experience was instantly assembled.
Ozz lounged lazily on a soft bed, casually chatting about the latest happenings on the sea when suddenly, something caught his attention.
"You're telling me Mihawk's been waiting outside the red-light district for days?"
His expression turned a bit odd. After a moment's thought, the corners of his mouth curved into a sly grin.
"Well, then I suppose... I ought to go meet him."
When Mihawk finally saw the man he'd been stalking for days, only to realize the guy had been soaking in luxury the whole time.
His eye twitched. Twice.
Still, he raised the black blade Yoru.
"...'Black Gun' Dotor Ozz! I challenge you!"
"A challenge? What for?"
"To defeat you! I will become the world's greatest swordsman!!"
You had to admit young Mihawk was a far cry from the calm, refined old master he'd become twenty years later. Right now, he was all blood and fire, a raging storm of ambition, not unlike Zoro.
It reminded Ozz of Shanks back on the Roger Pirates' ship always picking fights, full of dreams.
But a dreamer like that? Yeah, Ozz couldn't relate.
He was the dreamless type. A salted fish just trying to float through life.
It's not like anyone was gunning for the title of World's Greatest Swordsman anyway.
To be honest, it was a bit of a headache.
If he won, he'd probably get saddled with the title of World's Greatest Swordsman, and that would open the floodgates for every sword-wielding lunatic to come knocking.
Throw the match? Nah, not Ozz's style. He wasn't one to fake a fight.
As for losing for real?
Ozz didn't even have that word in his vocabulary.
"...Well, look Mihawk. It's not that I won't fight you, but...
I'm not a swordsman. What would be the point?"
The young hawk's glare sharpened, his sword aura flaring as if it could cut through thought itself.
"You split the sky with a single slash and fought three Navy monsters to a standstill and you say you're not a swordsman?!"
"Just because I can use a sword doesn't mean I am a swordsman. You know how to cook does that mean you're a chef?"
"That's..."
Mihawk was left speechless.
"..."
A long silence followed.
He seemed to think Ozz wasn't going to accept. Disappointed, the young swordsman lowered his eyes. His face was still youthful, but already tinged with a quiet bitterness. He turned, preparing to leave this place that had let him down.
But then.
Ozz's next words lit the fire in his chest all over again.
"I will accept. But on one condition. If you lose…"
Ozz stood up slowly.
Because just now when he mentioned "chef" a thought had crossed his mind.
He was going to set sail eventually. Even if he wasn't planning to form a full pirate crew, he'd still be heading out to see the world.
He couldn't do that alone.
Sure, roasted fish and grilled meat were fine once in a while. But surviving like that forever?
And he needed someone to talk to someone to keep him company.
The girls from the red-light district? Too weak. He'd have to protect them constantly.
What he needed was a reliable, strong, competent cook. Someone with years of solo sailing experience, who wouldn't get lost.
Now who could possibly fit that bill?
Gee. Tough one.
"A condition?"
The young man with the black blade stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly, facing Ozz with sharp, suspicious eyes as though Ozz had just told a joke.
But in those hawk-like eyes burned a will of steel and an unshakable resolve.
"Name your condition.
If I fall to your blade, then…"
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