A/N: I know that there are many amazing AU ZoSan fics out there written by some amazing authors. I only wanted to try one myself and get all of it out of my system before I explode. So here it is, My Little Bunny, which will be updated after every 5 reviews (HeHe I'm not that wicked since I only requested five for each chapter.)
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Enjoy…
It was just another boring day for the eight year old Zoro. The latter was a rather lonesome boy and he did not have the thoughts of playing like any other children of his age. His only interests were his kendo lessons that he looked forward to everyday, and being able to surpass his father in swordsmanship in the future. The reason why a boy of eight years old would have such an odd goal in life was because of his father himself, Dracule Mihawk.
Since small, Zoro would always look at and be fascinated by the numerous trophies that his father had obtained either from some countless underground battles or competitions organised by the government. Mihawk had them displayed on shelves in a room especially arranged for that in his house.
A five year old Zoro had even once been brought to one of his father's underground battles. Zoro remembered that he had been so graceful in handling that ridiculously huge sword of his. His father's fight had left him in such awe that he would never forget his first time witnessing his father's swordsmanship ever. It was simply engraved deep inside of him.
Indeed, his bamboo sword had never left his side: always strapped to his back or waist since his first kendo lesson. His teacher at school would preach him countless of times not to bring it to school or to leave it outside the class but stubbornly he would not obey and would say:
"A swordsman has to have his sword with him at all moments!"
On hearing that, his classmates would always make fun of him.
Furthermore, for a child, Zoro was often considered as scary and his usual stone hard face or the always present scowl plastered on his face made him unapproachable for other people, and mostly because of the latter, Zoro had no friends nor had he ever made the effort to make himself a few. Zoro simply did not care.
Sadly, the little boy neither had a mother who would wait for him at home after school with his favourite food already prepared with all the love a mother could give to her child. Every day, Zoro had to eat –according to him - tasteless food which was sent over to his house by a lady hired by his father to cook for him since he was never home. In fact, Zoro had never met his mother as she died shortly after giving birth to him.
There was even a time when he would often ask himself if his father hated him. Maybe he despised him because his wife died because of him. Or maybe he should not have been born. Actually, Zoro had even once asked his father about it. He still remembered the fear while waiting for his answer. He had nearly wetted his pants as his father had been so intimidating and still was. But the latter had said nothing except, "I do not hate you, Zoro."
Zoro did not look like his father either. In fact, there were no resemblances at all. His green hair was probably inherited from his mother. But how could he make sure of that since his father had kept no pictures of her.
That day, Zoro's kendo lessons had ended a little later than usual but he showed no haste in returning home. The green haired almost looked like dragging his feet all the way there. His head hung low as his house came into view but when he noticed the light inside of it through the windows, his legs broke into a small jog. His father was home!
"I'm home!" he shouted once he stepped into the house.
His house's interior looked nothing like homey and cosy, though the outside may look like a quite fancy one. It was a not too small two storeys house with a garage on the left: inside currently sitting a red shiny sports car that his father owned. The walls were plain and bare, and the house had little furniture. Due to his job, Mihawk was rarely home and that could explain why Zoro's heart had leap a little on thinking that his father finally was.
Zoro stopped dead in his tracks when he saw two strangers sitting in the living room. It was odd as they never had any guests. His eyes wandered over the most beautiful woman he had ever seen seated on the sofa, to a child with a similar beauty and looked close to his age, sitting on the carpeted floor while clinging to the woman's leg.
"Zoro, say hello," said Mihawk.
"H-hel-llo. My-my name is Zo-Zoro!" Zoro stammered nervously.
The pretty woman smiled at him warmly and Zoro's heart almost melted. She leaned down and said a few words to the frail looking child on the floor.
"Bonjour," she said shyly and quickly hid her face in her mother's skirt.
Zoro raised an eyebrow questioningly at his father as he did not understand what she had just said.
"Sanji says hello too. I apologise, Sanji is a little shy and has just recently learned how to speak your language," said the woman in a motherly voice.
"It's okay. Zoro, they come from North Blue." Zoro gave a nod to his father. "I am acquainted with this woman. Her name is Sophia Blackleg, and she and her child will be living here from now on. Be nice to the little Sanji," Mihawk added.
"Yes, father." Zoro's eyes travelled back to look at Sanji. The latter was looking back at him with a similar interest too.
"Marimo," she suddenly said to her mother, eyes shining, looking fascinated while pointing towards his head.
"Ma-marimo?"
Cocking her head to one side, she studied Zoro's confused face.
"Ah!" she exclaimed and looked behind her, searching for her backpack which was on the sofa. She got up, fumbled with the bag zipper and took out a book. Her mother tried to stifle a small laugh as she finally understood what her child meant.
Sanji opened the picture book and turned the pages frantically all the while crossing the room clumsily until in front of Zoro. When she had found what she was looking for, she thrust the book in front of Zoro's face excitedly. The latter had flinched at her action and narrowed his eyes to see what the girl's little finger was pointing at on the page.
"Marimo. This." She emphasized by pointing the picture of the moss ball a few times. "You." Sanji pointed at Zoro's head. "Marimo."
By this time, Zoro had finally understood as his hands flew to clutch at his hair. "Me? A marimo?!" he shouted.
"Yes! Yes!" Sanji smiled triumphantly.
"No! I'm not!" Zoro yelled.
The two adults just laughed in amusement.
Hehe How was it?
*You will understand why Sanji is referred as she by Zoro probably in the next chapter.
See you after 5 reviews.