Chapter 8 of Forging Bonds is giving me a hard time. I'll post it once I finish it though.
If the title of this fic doesn't seem to go completely with the fic itself, that would be because I came up with the title long before I had a fic to go with it :-)
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece T_T
A needle and thread slowly poked through the knitted green fabric of a worn and well-loved haramaki belonging to a certain swordsman. Another tear large enough to nearly disrupt it's cylindrical structure, earned in a fight in which the aforementioned swordsman had been unexpectedly careless. The long vertical wound along his side was healing, but his haramaki needed mending. He trusted no one to this task, preferring to take care of it himself.
The perfect shade of green in just the right size, it may have been worn and battered, but it was comfortable and warm. It had been his nearly constant companion since he was sixteen.
His haramaki meant the world to him.
A few more stitches and he was done. He held it up in both hands, inspecting it and admiring his handiwork. As he tried to slip it back onto his waist where it normally sat however, it began to unravel in several places; all places where it had been mended from it's previous battle scars.
Zoro slipped it off again, grabbed the needle and thread and tried again in vain to patch it up. It was no use however, as the more he tried to mend it, the more it seemed to want to fall apart. After several long minutes of mending one part after another, only to have two others unravel each time, he sighed in frustration. It was only after it had completely unravelled into a large pile of soft green yarn, that he gave up trying to fix it.
Yes, his haramaki meant the world to him.
And here it was now, lying there as a useless pile of yarn.
His beloved haramaki.
He wanted to cry.
But swordsmen didn't cry. Not over something like this. He picked up what was left of his former haramaki, placed it in a plastic shopping bag, and hung it near his hammock, intending to give it a proper funeral later.
He shoved frustrated hands into his pockets as he walked out on deck, where he sat with his arms around one knee; his head down. He was therefore startled by Robin's voice. Funny, he hadn't sensed her presence...
"May I ask what's troubling you Kenshi-san?" Robin asked gently.
Zoro sighed and looked away sadly into the distant ocean. "My haramaki..." was all he said.
Robin had noticed that Zoro lacked his old companion that was as much a nakama to him as his crewmates were. She had also seen how tattered it had been lately. It had only been a matter of time before if fell apart. It reminded her of Merry and the state he'd been in before they had to give him a funeral. "Try not to worry about that, Kenshi-san. I'll take care of things for you."
"I want to do that..."
"I don't mean the funeral. I have something else in mind," she stated smiling, just before leaving the swordsman to ponder just what she was thinking.
Zoro kneeled and placed his hands together in front of the small mound of dirt that he'd used to neatly bury his haramaki. In back of the mound was a tombstone that read simply:
To my companion and nakama. RIP.
After a few minutes, Zoro put his hands on his knees and sighed. There were other haramakis in the world. He could just buy another one. He knew this. But there wasn't going to be another one quite like his. It was not only warm and comfortable, but with all it's softness, it had been deceptively strong. It had at least, before it had gained all of it's battle scars.
He sighed again, then got up and headed back to the ship. He'd lie down for a while, then he'd see about obtaining another haramaki while they were still on this island. This island was big, so maybe he'd find a another nice one.
He'd gone down into the hammock room, and was headed toward his hammock when he spotted something small and a familiar color green on his blanket. As he got closer, he realized it was a haramaki. He frowned as he picked it up.
It was handmade, but it was soft and as he gently stretched it, he found that it was strong, just as his other had been. He looked around the room, wondering who had knitted it, who had left it there. He carefully stepped into the cylindrical garment, and pulled it up onto his waist, where it sat as comfortably as his old one had. It was warm too.
Robin's words came back to him then:
"Try not to worry about that, Kenshi-san. I'll take care of things for you."
"I'll take care of things for you."
This must have been what she'd meant. Had she had the haramaki made for him? Or had she made it herself? If she'd made it herself, she'd finished it quickly and really paid attention to detail.
"How do you like it, Kenshi-san?"
Robin's voice had startled him again. He turned to her.
She continued, "I knitted it for you. And if you're wondering how I finished it so fast, remember..." She sprouted several arms in a perfect flowery circular formation. "Many hands make light work!"
Zoro smiled happily for the first time in days.
It was all the thanks she needed.