Whoa, sorry for the lack of updates, but I had no way of writing really. Bad virus. But anyway, all that's taken care of, so just enjoy. :D

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chapter four: of Zoro

His sharp eyes observed his students with careful judgment as they swung their arms back and forth, all doing the exact same thing and doing it wrong. Sitting on the bench that Zoro was standing next to, Koshiro sighed and began to stand up. He straightened his spine as much as he could, looking at the students swing their practice katana in a swift, rhythmic movement. "They're still much too choppy about it," Koshiro commented.

Zoro eyed the old man's back briefly, "I'm aware."

The previous master of Isshin Dojo looked over his shoulder at Zoro and casted him a smile, "Of course you are. But you're their master, you're the one teaching them."

"I am," was his reply.

Koshiro clicked his tongue and flicked his fallen ponytail back over his shoulder so that it rested on his back again. The old man clearly did not approve of Zoro's lethargic but effective teaching style, since Koshiro had been much more hands on. Zoro didn't much care what he thought of how he handled his students, they were all far better than the students of the same age that Koshiro had when he taught. Zoro laughed quietly to himself, they may even be better than himself one day. It wasn't at all an unpleasant thought, in fact, he hoped one of them took his title of the greatest swordsman this side of the universe. Mihawk would have a good laugh about that and comment about the student surpassing the teacher once more.

Zoro missed that old killjoy. The retired swordsman was probably staring at the edge of the world right then, looking from his tower on Kuraigana Island. He did that far too often, Zoro thought.

He decided that his students had the rhythm down, so now all they were missing was the graceful slices through the air that they had been neglecting. They hadn't realized that this exercise was more about that then the rhythm itself. He sighed almost in annoyance — he didn't particularly prefer this batch of students over his others, but by the time he was done with them, they could rival anyone in the East Blue, the only exception being himself.

"Stop," he said, stepping forward. Koshiro looked up at him expectantly, as did everyone else in the room. Zoro explained that their sharp, choppy slashes wouldn't cut a leaf, and they had to execute a slash smoothly but still backed with strength. He didn't show them how to do this, he couldn't, they had to develop their own style and grow based on that.

He stepped back again and instructed them to continue. With a glance out the window, he noticed that it was close to dismissal time, the sun was beginning to hide behind the mountains.

"Oh, Zoro," Koshiro called, turning fully around and hobbling back over to the bench. He picked up the newspaper that was lying there and offered it to Zoro. "This front page's article, it's about Karasumaru Nami, your old nakama, right?"

Zoro took the newspaper from Koshiro's hand. He turned it over, and splashed across the front page was a picture of his old navigator, her name followed by the word "kidnapped" sticking boldly out. Zoro didn't read the article, and merely just looked at Nami's picture and that word next to her name with a silent rage bubbling deep in his gut. "When did you get this newspaper?" he asked Koshiro grimly.

The gray-haired man pursed his lips in thought, "Ah, this morning."

The urge to shout at his former swords master was very prominent in Zoro, but he contained himself. There wasn't anything he could do about Koshiro's bad timing now. He heaved an angry sigh and looked at his students, who were actually starting to get the grace he had informed them of in their rhythms. "I need to go," he told Koshiro. It was a long walk home and if his alarm had went off . . . The journey to Water 7 was not a short one.

He left the dojo, and behind him, he heard Koshiro giving orders to Zoro's students, much kinder than Zoro ever had. He was never harsh with his students, but neither was he very soft when it came to his teaching either. He slid the dojo's door closed and began the march into town, through the woods and up the mountain to his cabin.

Many of the people in the village started to wave in greeting or shout a hello, but with a glance at the expression on Zoro's face, the villagers wisely decided against it and turned away. They had not seen him so worked up since he was a kid, and the usually serene Zoro never expressed any angry emotions around them. Many of the villagers backed into their houses with the scent of fear wafting off of them.

Once outside the village, Zoro felt even angrier. The fact that the people had reacted so strongly to his anger bothered and annoyed him, only made more infuriated. They should've seen the paper, they knew about Zoro and his crew, they should understand.

He pulled Wadou Ichimonji from its sheath underneath his robe and slashed it angrily against the grove of trees to his right. The cut was so quick and smooth that the trees didn't even sway or fall over, the severed trunks rested on the rest of the trunk as if they hadn't been cut from each other a moment ago. A strong gust of wind would later come and knock them all down, surprising a couple of hikers.

The sun was resting behind the mountains now, casting dark shadows all around Zoro's path. He didn't mind, he was used to it. In fact, he didn't even so much as acknowledge the darkness that was settling around him. He was so angry. This was why they should have never separated, so this sort of stuff never happened. Where had Franky been? He was in Water 7 too, he should have been there for Nami. He should have stopped her from getting kidnapped, or at least have gotten her back by now. If Zoro had been there, those kidnappers wouldn't even stand a chance, regardless of who they were. Pirates, government, you name it, they would've been ripped to shreds. Who dared to touch the Pirate King's nakama?

Zoro slashed at another thicket of trees.

He passes his cabin, but ignores it and keeps walking. The path he's on continues through the mountains some more, he's been that way more times than he can count. He grips his sword tightly in his hand and swings his arm, slicing through the forest and scaring several birds from their nests.

A figure is walking up the path towards him. Zoro slows his pace and examines the hunched over look, the wobbly pace and gleaming spectacles. "Koshiro," he calls out to his old master, "what are you doing out here?" Zoro more so wanted to know how old man had gotten out there, considered he had some great difficulty climbing stairs, let alone mountains.

"Well," he began, "I figured I should stop you from destroying any more of the forest, since it's dwindling pretty quickly by your sword there. Also," he stood in front of Zoro, a good head and a half shorter and old and frail, "I came to check on you."

"Why?"

Koshiro smiled that knowing smile of his, "The villagers were concerned by your stalk through the village. They said you a killing intent lurking about you. Some were more than a little frightened. You may owe a few apologies." Koshiro turned to look at Zoro's most recent attack on the trees, and he shook his head, "This trail will be much less scenic now . . ."

The swordsman ignored the comment. "My nakama is in danger; I'm going to blame myself."

Koshiro chuckled, "As if that's going to help her. I've heard many things from you about Karasumaru Nami, many things. If I know anything, I know she can handle herself, and that Pirate King captain of yours won't let anything happen to her. You shouldn't be putting this on yourself, we're only human, Zoro."

He was still extremely frustrated, and he wanted to lash out at Koshiro, but doing so would not affect the old man and they both knew it. He had been through too much to have a former, angry student get frustrated with what he was telling him and be bothered by it. "I know, but I'm so far away from them. I'm useless way out here."

"You're the one who chose to come out this far, you fool. You showed up, five years ago, looking for peace with the world. You still had a lot of hate and anger at yourself, all for things that were never and could never have been your fault. You have to learn to accept things as they are and deal with them accordingly. That's always been your weakness, Zoro."

Still, Zoro wanted to retaliate, but he knew the old dojo master was right. He always was. He gazed into the forest, where some trees were fallen from the diagonal slashes dealt by Wadou, and inhaled heavily and unsteadily. He had been shaking with rage. "I should never have come back here."

Koshiro laughed loudly at that, "Why is that? Because if you hadn't, you would've been able to prevent all of this? Stop being irrational. What would those kids back there do without you, their hero? They'd just have a has-been, sitting on my bench and telling them what to do. I can't move as well as I used to, they wouldn't learn anything. You've brought a gift here to these people. They have something they can be proud of." Koshiro shook his head and matched Zoro's gaze, "You're still putting this on yourself."

Zoro sheathed Wadou angrily and threw his arms up, "How could I not? This is my nakama, I should do everything in my power to protect them, and I didn't! You know what it's like to lose someone you love, why don't you understand?"

With that, Koshiro clicked his tongue and waved his hand at Zoro, "Because there is nothing to understand. What is done is done. There is nothing you can do now to change that." He began to turn, as if to walk away, but first he jabbed a sharp finger into Zoro's chest, "So stop blaming yourself and do something about it."

As he walked away, Zoro wondered what exactly Koshiro was talking about, because he had a feeling that by the end of the conversation, Nami's kidnap was not what the retired dojo master had been referring to. Zoro blinked and watched him hobble along down the path, whistling to himself as his gray ponytail swung back and forth with each step that he took. Zoro sighed tiredly and turned away, then started back up the path to his cabin.

By the time he reached it, the sun was gone, replaced by the faint crescent moon's light. Zoro kicked off his boots, shed his cloak and placed Wadou next to his other swords, the white sheath standing out against Kitetsu's and Shuusui's much darker sheaths. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands and deciding that he really needed a haircut.

He was exhausted. The burst of anger had drained all the energy from him and now he felt fatigued and tired to the bone. He grabbed the Sunny's alarm, which had not gone off yet, and went to his small bedroom, determined to let sleep wash away his stress and help him make a rash decision in the morning.

Sleep came quickly, but did not last long. He was pulled out of his slumber by an irritating and alarmingly loud sound. He blinked his eyes until his vision cleared, and across the room he saw that his alarm was going off. He scrambled out of bed and took the alarm, staring at it as it blinked an angry red and let off a horrible bleeping noise. He pushed the button on the side and the sound stopped, along with blinking. He wasn't sure what to do next for a moment.

Then he grabbed a pack that he had and shoved preserved food, clothes and the Water 7 eternal pose into it, just in case something happened to the alarm's built-in eternal pose. He knew how to get to the Grand Line by heart, he wasn't worried about get lost then, but without the eternal pose he was screwed. He pulled his boots and robe on and grabbed his swords, tying them to his waist. He opened the door when he thought of his dojo. He looked around in thought for a moment, and then he put his stuff back down. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled a note, telling anyone who was worried about where he was and cared enough to hike up to his cabin that he had gone to rescue his nakama, that he was not sure if he would ever return, and that he was leaving the dojo in the hands of Koshiro and Toshi, one of his older and most promising students. Satisfied that that took care of everything he needed to take care of, he left, practically running down the path that led into the village.

By routine, he almost took the turn that brought him to Isshin Dojo, but with a second thought he corrected himself and continued on to the docks. He had a small ship that he had obtained before he had even come back to the East Blue, so he wouldn't have to steal one of the villager's. He found it easily enough, and he threw his things in it while he untied it from the dock. Then he raised the anchor and the sails and let the wind carry him out of the dock. The Grand Line was about a week's journey, Water 7 was probably a good month and a half, but Zoro wasn't planning on stopping very often and his small ship was built for speed. He'd be there in a month, if he was lucky. He usually was.

He wondered how long it would take for the ero-cook to get the news. If he was going to the Grand Line, he was going to have to go by the cook's dumb restaurant. He would prefer not to see the curly-browed freak, but news always got to their little island at the base of Reverse Mountain late for some reason. But whether Sanji knew why he was going or not, the Sunny's alarm would go off and he'd have to go. So Zoro shouldn't have to worry about running into him . . . That was one bright side of this trip.

By the time the sun came up again, Shimotsuki Village was far from his sight.

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Yay, Zoro~

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