Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Zoro woke up to a distant shriek of a Humandriod. He slowly opened his eyes to see the closed curtain windows. The sunlight was weak on this island, but there was enough for it to seep through. His eyes lingered over to those dark burgundy curtains, and then it sailed over the cold gray brick walls and to where he was sleeping.
The young swordsman was sleeping sideways facing a wall. The door was behind him. His three beloved swords were also behind him but were propped against the side of the bed, so he could get them quickly if there was a sudden attack. Unfortunately, he was facing the wrong way, so there was going to be a second delay. Although he really wanted to change direction, he couldn't because he was immobile. His partner who was sharing the bed enfolded him perfectly like a puzzle piece. The man had his face pressed in Zoro's chest, like all men who would shove their face in a crevice of voluptuous C cups.
This logic would make sense if Zoro was a woman, which he was not.
Juraquille Mihawk was the one who was peacefully sleeping. Once or twice, the master swordsman made a faint sound and buried his face deeper into Zoro's flat chest.
Zoro stared down at the thick spiky black hair and looked back toward the curtains. It had been a month since he started living in Kuraigana Island. It had been one dramatic change. First thing he had to get used to was silence. The island was like a graveyard at night. There were no joyful shouts of a seventeen year old captain about food or islands. There wasn't an annoying cook that bashed at all the men and then turned cheery when he talked to the ladies. There were no sudden explosions-or squeals of a reindeer when there was a casualty. Not even a gentle humming or a euphonic sound of a violin. However, even though there wasn't a certain navigator who yelled out orders or constantly screaming at no particular reason, there was a ghost princess who complained day and night just about anything.
He felt like going back into the days before he met Luffy. It was just him and only him. He did feel a hole in his heart when he thought about his crewmates, but there was a certain moment of freedom. Since there weren't any irritating complaints from Nami, he could train as long as he wanted. Same idea with the cook; he was able to train and not get interrupted by the idiot blond.
The one difference was that in those days he only took care of himself. Here, along with himself, he had to take care of two others. The ghost princess could not do anything besides making people negative and float into the sky. Zoro dragged Perona around to teach her how to cook, clean, or other basic chores that average people could do. Sometimes she did it, but most of the time Zoro had to because the girl was lazy. The master swordsman did begin the training, but that was all he did.
The food was the difficult part. Only Zoro cooked and cooking, serving, putting away, and washing took a huge toll. In some ways (although he would not admit it out loud), he missed how food was automatically served to him three times a day, snacks in between.
However, freedom in the Straw Hat Pirate Crew was not in Kuraigana Island. For one thing, Zoro wasn't allowed to leave the island. That was Mihawk's rule. Zoro obeyed because the consequence was no training and the young swordsman needed all the time he had. Another was where he slept. Before Mihawk returned to his home, Zoro slept wherever he liked because the castle had many bedrooms. Now, he was strictly to only sleep in Mihawk's room and on Mihawk's bed. Zoro really didn't care about this one. Finally, his choice of clothing. Nami criticized him for his poor clothing style, but this was the same at this island, except the master swordsman had authority. So during the day, Zoro wore a frilly white collared shirt with tight black pants that showed every inch of his curves. Mihawk told him that it was easier to fight with tighter clothes, so Zoro wore them. He didn't understand the frilly part but decided not to comment after discovering a wardrobe full of frilly clothes. At night, he wore a shirt that also had some frill, but his pants were looser. All were made in satin.
It was bizarre that these things didn't bother him. If Nami and Sanji were here, they would have made some kind of comment, obviously negative. At first Perona made a face whenever the master swordsman intimately touched places on Zoro's body when he got injured in a practice battle. Eventually she got used to it. She left them alone when Mihawk suddenly took Zoro by the hand and led him out to a place to be together. Sometimes, she watched.
Zoro let out a small sigh and curled in so his face was burying into Mihawk's hair. He sniffed the rich spice, something that his crewmates didn't have on their bodies yet. Underneath, Mihawk stirred. He moved his large hands and wrapped them around Zoro's back and slipped them up his shirt. Zoro closed his eyes and hugged Mihawk back.
Two years was going to be a long time, even if he was going to spend it with what he loved most. He thought since he was not going to get used to this peaceful and quiet island with the master swordsman and the ghost princess.
Strangely, he was liking it.
The End