Mihawk prepared dinner that night. It was a privilege of living in Muggy Castle to see the world’s greatest swordsman working in the kitchen with an apron on. If you ever came across the proud, lonely warrior with his enormous cross blade on his back, walking a desolate path, it would be hard to envision him pulling a roast chicken from the oven and skewering it to test the internal temperature.
The evening’s meal was roast fowl and a vegetable sauté, a selection that went well with red wine. The sauté contained plenty of vegetables freshly harvested from the fields. The cuisine at Muggy Castle was notably organic and wholesome.
Mihawk came to the table and poured some wine into his glass, each part of the action pointedly exaggerated.
Ugh, he has to make a show of it! Perona thought. The transparent red liquid danced dazzlingly in the crystal clear glass. Just seeing it brought back the sensation of that enchanting flavor that had danced across her tongue the previous night.
Mihawk noticed Perona staring longingly at the glass and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to look so pathetic. It’s only a bottle of wine.”
“What?! I don’t look pathetic!”
“Yes, you do,” he said, and brought the glass up to his lips. Then his raptor-like eyes softened subtly and he murmured, “This…is very good wine.”
“Right?!” she boasted, and leaned in closer to Mihawk. “And listen to my suggestion, okay? Stay with me here… Don’t you think this wine would taste even better if we used it to make sangria?!”
“No.” Mihawk’s response was blunt.
“But. Why…?” Perona exclaimed, completely taken aback.
“It’s no good to contaminate fine wine with extraneous additions.”
“But! But adding fruit slices will make it sweeter and so cute!”
“Not to my taste,” Mihawk replied.
“But why not?!” she demanded, getting up in his face.
Mihawk snapped, “Get off of me, you brat,” and shooed her away like a cat.
But Perona persisted. “Why don’t you just try it? A single glass, as a test. You might change your mind and decide that you like it.”
He replied that he wouldn’t, but Perona ignored him and rushed to the kitchen to grab a knife. To make sangria, you mix fruit and sugar with wine. Ideally, it sits overnight to infuse the flavor, but even putting some fruit in wine right before drinking it imparts some of its scent and sweetness.
Peaches, oranges, apples, lemons—Perona carefully peeled and cut them into bite-size pieces. Even though she was being very careful and trying her hardest, they came out looking awkward and chunky. She wasn’t able to slice them as finely as Zolo had sliced the melon the night before.
“That’s not right!” she muttered, chopping away. She tried different shapes and cuts, but none of them looked elegant. And the more she cut the fruit, the further it got from looking the way she wanted it to.
“Gah! I can’t cut these right!” Perona exclaimed out loud. Everything was going wrong. At this rate, Mihawk was going to imbibe the entire bottle of wine by himself.
Perona bit her lip and pouted. Just thinking of it brought that delicious, delicate flavor to her tongue once more—the heady aroma that wafted over her the moment she sipped it, the tangy notes of fruit that danced and spun in her mouth. The more she thought of it, the more she realized that she just couldn’t give up. She would do anything to have sangria made from that wine!
“That’s it. Gentle persuasion is off the table,” she resolved. “I’m escalating this to a use of force!”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” demanded Zolo, who had just walked into the kitchen. He had finished his dinner and was bringing his empty plate to the sink. At that moment he noticed Perona’s culinary project.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“I’m cutting fruit to make sangria, but I can’t do it right,” Perona explained.
“What?” He picked up a thin slice of apple from the pile of cut fruit. “Looks like you cut it to me.”
“But it’s not like the way you do it! The slices need to be cleaner and smoother and finer!”
“What are you trying to accomplish here?”
Perona pouted. “It’s him! He’s so stubborn.”
Zolo tossed the piece of apple into his mouth. “Hawk-Eye finished his dinner a while ago. He took the bottle of wine and went back to his room. Anyway, what were you just saying about ‘use of force’?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Perona said, turning her wide, round eyes on Zolo. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to take that wine from Mihawk by force.”
Zolo stared at her quizzically.
“Don’t even try to stop me!” Perona warned, jabbing a finger at Zolo and at the same time hyping herself up for what she was about to do. She was just about to explode with a head full of steam toward Mihawk’s room when Zolo called out, “Wait!”
“What? I just told you not to stop me.”
“I’ll go too,” he said.
Perona frowned. “Huh? Why?”
“Because if you challenge him on your own, he’ll just brush you off. You don’t stand a chance.”
“Shut up!” Perona cried, indignantly. “Anyway, I didn’t invite you! We’re not companions!” she exclaimed, outraged, striding up to Zolo. Just then, a skittering sound came from somewhere near the pile of fruit peels in the sink.
Perona turned, distracted by the sound, only to see a massive cockroach, nearly four inches long, waving its antennae around. She shrieked.
“Aieeeee!”
All the blood drained from her face. Perona hated cockroaches more than anything else in the world. She stammered, “No, no, no, stay away from me!” She tried to back away, but the roach spread its wings and took flight. “Aaaaah! Nooooooo!”
Perona was panicking. Of all the things this cockroach could have done, it had decided to fly directly toward her.
I can’t even! If that thing lands on my face, I’m gonna die! I’ve gotta run! she thought, but in her haste and confusion she froze up. Then, right before it landed on her face, the cockroach abruptly split into two pieces.
“Whah…?” she gasped.
The right and left halves of the insect fell to the floor with a crackle. Perona blinked. She couldn’t understand what had just transpired. It had happened in a flash… But, could it have been…
“You’re right, I’m not your companion,” Zolo said, sliding his sword into its sheath and smirking. “But we’re close enough that I’m glad to help you out in a pinch. No worries.”