As Zoro lay bleeding in the streets of Alubarna, slowly succumbing to the wounds he'd received during his battle with Mr. 1, he found that death was not so bad.

The world around him was dark, and somehow, he could still sense the rhythm that all things had. Even as his life slipped away, he felt that the beauty of the rhythm was astonishing. The ground beneath him had a slow, steady hum. The wind whirling down the street was alive and merry, and it brought a smile to Zoro's lips.

No, death was not bad at all, but he could not rest quite yet. He was nowhere close to fulfilling his dream of being the world's greatest swordsman. And then there was the matter of his crewmates to contend with. If he went and kicked the bucket now, Sanji would get it in his head that he was superior to Zoro!

'Over my dead body,' the swordsman thought savagely, pushing himself up off the ground with shaky arms.

The world seemed to grow a little darker as his vision dimmed, but he managed to get himself into a sitting position and take a few deep breaths.

With his hands pressed into the soil, he could feel a commotion nearby. Or perhaps he heard it. Either way, describing the sensation that gripped him in his death throes would've been difficult, even if he wasn't woozy from blood loss.

The commotion died down fairly quickly, leaving everything around Zoro as silent as the grave. Then, from within the large, grandiose building on his right, another rhythm could be heard. Pained, uneven footsteps traced their way through the otherwise empty building, heading straight for Zoro. Even if he wanted to duck into an alley and slip past them, he doubted he could lift himself from the street before they spotted him. But he had no intentions of moving, as the rhythm of this person seemed… familiar. It reminded him of sunshine, cool, salty sea breezes, and an unmistakably overpowering frankincense perfume.

Zoro's base senses took over as he stared at the dark doorway leading into the building. If his newfound sixth sense was accurate, he would be able to hear them coming…

Click, scrape, click, scrape…

Sure enough, the familiar tap of high heels on stone was heard, accompanied by panting.

Nami appeared within the sandstone doorway, leaning heavily upon a blue metal bo staff. In her ruined dancer's costume she looked a little worse for wear, but very much alive.

Zoro stared at her, mouth agape. The navigator was covered in bruises and scrapes, as if she'd been fighting. With every other step, her foot seemed to bleed more profusely. Her hair was disheveled, though still miraculously held in a bun, and her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. None of this was reflected in her eyes, which shone with a triumphant light, like someone who'd just passed an important test.

And to the swordsman, who could still sense the rhythm all things had, Nami looked nothing short of perfect. Whereas the entire world looked dark and discolored, her pale skin shone like moonlight. It almost looked as though she were glowing, and when Zoro listened carefully, he could hear Nami's rhythm as well. There was an almost hypnotic quality to it. The hammering of her heart set the beat as the bounty hunter listened raptly. Some things, like the ground, or the broken bits of stone scattered around the battlefield, emitted a low, steady hum.

Nami's rhythm, however, was far more complex, like a symphony composed entirely of who she was as a person. For an instant, Zoro could almost picture Nami dancing to her own rhythm, swaying her hips and throwing her hands over her head with reckless abandon.

"Hey, Zoro! Come on, focus!" Nami clicked her fingers in front of his face, pulling him from his vision.

"N-Nami," he murmured bashfully, "you're absolutely beautiful!"

She turned red for a moment before she casually swept the hair out of her face.

"Tell me something I don't know!"

Zoro's face was suddenly in hers, and she fell backward, onto her butt. Zoro's pupils were so dilated that she couldn't even see his irises.

"You're glowing," he told her.

Zoro reached out with a calloused finger, gently stoking the pale skin of her cheek. The surprised look on her face slowly faded as a strange feeling settled in her abdomen. As their faces inched closer, Nami wet her lips, her jaw quivering. Zoro stared into her eyes, her breath hot on his face. Suddenly, she put a hand to his chest, stopping them just short of a kiss.

"Son of a… Zoro, you're bleeding!"

He followed the redhead's gaze downward, taking note of his mangled chest, and the red stain spreading across his shirt.

"Well… so are you."

Nami rolled her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear, as she oft did when she was flustered.

"I'm not the one who's spouting nonsense about how pretty I am," she rallied.

Zoro pursed his lips, "It's not nonsense."

"Whatever you say… maybe there's some supplies in these buildings… I get the feeling we'll be fighting for a while…"

Nami turned her attention to the sounds of battle all around them. Zoro could hear it as well, though it sounded faint and far away. He could feel it clearly, though. Through the earth beneath him, he could feel blood splattering on the pavement. He could sense thousands of feet as they ran through the streets. He could feel the bodies as they fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

"I've gotta… keep going."

Zoro used his sword to push himself to his feet, but Nami quickly accosted him.

"Zoro, don't move!"

Too late, the muscles in his chest released their tension, and blood sprayed from his wounds. His eyes went white as they rolled back into his head, the world seemed to spin underneath him, and Zoro's last moments of consciousness were riddled with Nami's terrified screams, which lent themselves to twisted visions that played out behind his eyes.

He jerked awake minutes later, only to groan and grit his teeth. His wounds were on fire, and the world had returned to its normal state. It was bright and sunny. The sounds of battle were loud against his sore eardrums. A shadow moved, obscuring the blinding light of the sun, and Nami appeared over him. She was red in the face, with large tears in her eyes.

"Dammit all, Zoro! Don't go scaring me like that!"

He chuckled dryly, but the pain in his chest exploded. He coughed and choked, tasting the metallic tang of blood. With a grunt, he turned his head and spat it out.

"Give me a break," he sighed, "I just beat Baroque Works' most powerful agent."

"Yeah? Well, I beat his partner," Nami countered.

"You beat Ms. Doublefinger?"

"Uh-huh."

She smiled brightly, and the warmth of her smile seemed to spread through Zoro's limbs, filling him with renewed vigor. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, keeping his abs tight as he looked down at his chest.

The blood had stopped pouring from his wounds, but there were no bandages… how was that possible? Judging from the position of the sun, he hadn't been out for very long.

"I managed to use the Clima-Tact," Nami muttered quietly, "I heated the blade of your sword and used it to cauterize the wounds. It was the best I could do to stop the bleeding without risking infection. I was about to bandage you up when you came back to me."

The bounty hunter gently poked at the wounds on his chest. They still hurt, but so long as he was no longer losing blood, he would still be able to fight.

The sound of footsteps echoed from an alley just down the street. Before Nami and Zoro could hide, four men in mismatched armor appeared. Each of them held weapons, and they almost looked like rebels whom had gotten turned around during the fighting.

Almost.

From their wicked smirks and cocky attitude, Zoro knew straight away that they were no ordinary rebels. Without thinking, he stood up, pushing Nami behind him. His legs shook and his sight went black for a moment, but he kept the 'rebels' firmly in his line of sight.

"Zoro, what are you doing? Those are rebels! You can't fight them!"

"Look at their arms, Nami. Those aren't rebels… they're billions."

One man pushed himself to the forefront of the group. He was scrawny, with a rat-like face and dark, intelligent eyes. He held a blunderbuss rather carelessly, and took no care as to where he pointed it. His three lackeys were all much larger, though they varied from being brawny as a bodybuilder to as pudgy as a sumo wrestler. Every one of them had a Baroque Works tattoo on their arms, and all were armed to the teeth, though the large ones only carried melee weapons.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? A couple sneaky bastards, eh? And look, they match the descriptions of those high priority targets we were supposed to let the numbered agents take care of… doesn't look like they fared very well, though."

The scrawny man peered over Zoro's shoulder without a hint of concern in his eyes as he looked upon Mr. One's body. Zoro shifted to the side, using his own body to make sure than Nami was well out of the line of fire of the man's blunderbuss.

"I suppose you did this to him, eh? Well, then, it seems I owe you a debt. Once I take you down, I'm sure to get promoted to a numbered agent."

The man grinned for a moment before his face fell. A light seemed to reflect in his eyes, and Zoro realized that the billion had taken full notice of Nami, who was still hiding behind him.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Say, after I whoop this guy's ass, how would you feel about spending some quality time with yours truly? I'm gonna be loaded after all this pans out… who knows, maybe I can convince the boss to let me keep you as a prize for a job well done."

The man wiggled his eyebrows at the navigator, who proceeded to stick out her tongue at him from over Zoro's shoulder.

"Bite the big one, asshat!"

"Ohoo, feisty! But I suppose I gotta put this one down before I can get my prize…."

The man's dark eyes returned to the swordsman in his way. He looked beat down and ragged, but there was no mistaking it: this man was definitely one of the Strawhat Pirates.

"If you think I'll let you put one greasy finger on Nami you've got another thing coming," Zoro stated flatly. The Wado Ichimanji glinted in the bright sunlight as Zoro felt a pressure on his shoulder.

"Make this quick," Nami panted in his ear, "I can't… stay standing much longer."

Sweat beaded Zoro's brow. His palms were already raw from swinging his swords during his battle with Mr. One. His shoulders were achy and overworked. The burns on his chest throbbed painfully, as did the blood in his head as his heart beat harder. His pain and suffering were on the edge of overwhelming him… yet all he could do was frown in disgust.

'All that training, and I'm still not as strong as I need to be,' he realized angrily.

"You have one chance to leave, otherwise, I'll do to you what I did to the most powerful Baroque Works field agent…"

Zoro reached up and put his bandana back on. The sweat hadn't even had the chance to dry from his last battle. He glared at the men in front of him, mustering every ounce of malice in his heart to try and frighten them off.

It seemed to be working. The wiry, devious man in the lead ground his teeth, and his three enormous cronies shifted, looking unnerved. A few more moments, and they just might run away without a fight…

"Perhaps you bested Mr. One in melee combat," the smaller man reasoned, "but in terms of speed, you aren't nearly as quick as my blunderbuss!"

He levelled the weapon with a malicious grin. Nami peaked out from over Zoro's shoulder, her eyes wide with shock. The three lackeys rallied, shouting war cries and jeers. The swordsman did not move. If he closed with the billion, he would end up leaving Nami vulnerable.

"A sitting duck, eh? Just how I like 'em!"

The agent's finger squeezed the trigger of the blunderbuss. The sound of a small cannon going off was heard, and a cloud of iron scattershot flew at Zoro faster than the eye could see.

Faster than the average eye could see, anyway.

As the bounty hunter stared death in the face, all colors of the world seemed to fall away. Light turned into darkness and vice versa as everything became negative. The individual lead balls of the scattershot inched forward at a snail's pace. Zoro raised the Wado Ichimanji, and brought it down in a diagonal slash.

The dirt around his feet became torn up, and was pegged with deep holes. Windows shattered and broke behind him as lead embedded itself in sandstone buildings, but the swordsman himself was completely unscathed, save the injuries from his previous battle.

"What the-" the Baroque Works agent stammered.

"That's the issue with firearms, especially large ones," Zoro said, "after you fire them once, they're little more than overpriced clubs. My swords, however… they're deadly no matter what."

The leader raised a hand, jabbing his finger at Zoro as he screeched, "Kill that one, and bring me the girl alive!"

Three giant men barreled forward, brandishing their weapons. The first to reach Zoro was a man with a square jaw, a bad comb over, fetid breath, and a massive two handed sword. He made to cleave Zoro in half from top to bottom, but the swordsman effortlessly parried the blow, sending sparks flying as steel scraped against steel. Nami shrieked as the huge blade sunk into the earth not six inches from her injured foot.

With the man's guard wide open, Zoro slashed him across the chest, cutting clear through his armor and several layers of fatty tissue. The man hit the ground with an earth rumbling crash.

"Hold this," Zoro said, handing Kitetsu III to Nami, still sheathed.

"What am I supposed to do with-"

"Use it as a cane, dumbass," he growled.

And with that, Zoro stepped over the body, meeting the next attacker after three steady, even paces.

"GRAAAAAH!"

This man was entirely brawn. His muscles were so enormous it was a wonder he could lift his war club over his head. The weapon looked to be twice the size of Zoro, and was made entirely of heavy black iron. The man had small piggy eyes, several missing teeth, and a strangely well kempt mustache that had probably taken years to perfect.

The war club looked to be going agonizingly slow as it neared Zoro. A part of him was tempted to stand there and be hit by it, just to see if it would actually hurt. In the end he sighed, ducked around the blow, and wound up behind the man. With a great two handed swing, Zoro managed to slash through the man's muscular back and into his spine. He fell to the ground, spasming and paralyzed as Zoro closed with the third and final brute.

This one was so terrified of the suddenly disastrous mortality rates of his comrades that he dropped his flail and wet himself. Zoro approached him casually. His face was the epitome of calm, but something of his cold, murderous intent shone through his steely gaze. The Baroque Works agent sank to his knees before the swordsman, who did not break his stride.

Steel flashed in the sunlight. The large man cringed as his ears rung with the unpleasant sound of metal on metal. He opened his eyes and looked down, only to find that he was unharmed, and the bounty hunter had passed him by.

"Heh," the man grinned.

With unassuming speed, the large man got to his feet and swung the handle of his flail, bringing it down upon Zoro.

"Huh?"

The head of his flail was gone. The chain attaching it to the handle had been severed clean off by the swordsman when he'd passed by.

"You should've stayed down," Zoro muttered.

He turned, and plunged his blade up to the hilt in the man's sumo wrestler belly, which was so large that the tip of his blade barely came out the other side. In that terrifying instant, when the Baroque Works agent had been run through, he stared into Zoro's eyes, seeing nothing within them. There was a cold emptiness, and buried far, far beneath this was a rage so powerful and terrifying that it was hard to meet his gaze… but blood and death seemed to hold no sway over him. How could he kill and feel absolutely nothing?

With slow, deliberate movements, he pulled the sword free of the man's belly, before finally turning his attention to the man with the blunderbuss.

"Y-you killed them!" he cried. "You monster!"

Blood dripped from the tip of his blade as Zoro made for the last Baroque Works agent left standing. The agent backed away so quickly that he dropped his gun, but froze when his back hit the wall of a building.

"You've not the first person to call me that," Zoro reasoned, "and you sure as hell won't be the last."

Zoro drew back his arm, ready to drive his sword through the man's throat, but stopped when something was amiss… why was he smirking like that? From behind his back, the agent drew a shortsword, which had been cleverly concealed under his armor. He slashed at Zoro with a madman's glee, sure that he had gotten the drop on the swordsman. The attack caught him off guard, but Zoro had heard it coming from a mile off. He had heard the man's muscles creak and groan as he'd attacked. He had heard the irritating scrap of a blade against a scabbard, and he had heard the air being cut by the crude steel of the weapon.

He blocked the blow, and the vibrations of the attack seemed to work their way up his arms and into his skull. Zoro could feel the impurities in the metal, and he applied a little extra force, pushing the man against the wall, and forcing him to use both his hands to avoid getting cut.

Dragging his blade along his opponent's, Zoro struck the shortsword on the flat of the blade with the Wado Ichimanji's guard. The metal gave way, and the blade of the agent's sword spun away, leaving him with a hilt, an inch of jagged steel, and a look of shock so priceless that Zoro might've smiled, had he not been so furious.

"You… you… YOU BASTAAAAA- GRAAAAAAGGGHH"

The Baroque Work agent's strangled cry was interrupted as steel rent his throat. The man stared at Zoro, spite in his eyes as blood ran from his wound. He pulled at the blade with shaky hands, desperate to pull it out of his neck, but he only ended up slicing his hands, and smearing blood along the blade.

Nami closed her eyes as her stomach turned. Blood wasn't a new sight for her, but watching Zoro stare intently at the dying man put her on the edge of being sick. How could he watch a man die, slowly and painfully, with absolutely no regard for the sanctity of life?

"You alright, Nami?"

She jumped, her face pale as she looked into Zoro's eyes. They were slowly refocusing, almost as though he were coming out of a trance. In an instant, he looked just like the Zoro she knew, but sad and tired, and covered with battle scars and bruises.

"Are you kidding? I'm fine!"

She crossed her arms as best she could, but still leaned heavily on her uninjured leg. Zoro raised an eyebrow, and pulled the sword she had been using as a cane out from under her. Nami let out a wail as she fell to the ground.

"Asshole! You can treat your own wounds from now on!"

"Shut up and gimme that foot. We have to stop the bleeding."

"Oh, I get it… you have a foot fetish, don't you? Pervert."

Nami's smile was ruined by her ivory skin. Even as Zoro watched, she lost focus in their conversation. If she kept losing blood, she'd lose consciousness.

"Shut the hell up, this is serious…" Without warning, Zoro sliced a strip of fabric from his already tattered shirt and wrapped it around Nami's injury. After tying it tightly, and making sure it wouldn't fall off, Zoro stood and wiped his brow. He was no doctor, but it would have to do.

"Done already? Alright, let's get this show on the road!"

Nami stood, swaying and giggling. Obviously, delirium was setting in rather quickly.

"You need some water," Zoro decided. "And maybe something to eat."

"You need to stop being such a prick," Nami grinned. "What do you think about that?"

Zoro sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He counted to ten in his mind as Nami continued to insult him, calling him all sort of names that wouldn't fly if uttered by anyone else. Once she was finished, she stared at him, waiting for some kind of response. Instead, Zoro scooped down low and lifted Nami by her waist. He slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and began walking down the street.

"Wha! Put me down! Idiot! Moron! Let me go at once! I am Nami, a friend of the Princess of this great country, and I demand respect, dammit!"

Zoro frowned as Nami kicked and flailed. She pounded on Zoro's back, but it was little more than a refreshing massage of fighting so many battles. After she'd gotten some food and water, he decided that it might be better to let her ride piggy-back.

"Uh huh, sure thing, your highness."

Author's Notes:

Nope, this fic still isn't dead... but was it ever really alive in the first place? Anyway, I suppose I should apologize for the wait, (even though I'm not remotely sorry, I've been busy) but yeah... sorry, I guess.

Going right to the quick breakdown of the story... I got nothing. I wrote this a while back and didn't have the time to even edit it, so I just polished it over the last week and threw it up for all to see. Make of it what you will, I suppose. Got a little gory there, towards the end, but a little blood never hurts. Not usually, anyway. And was there supposed to be a romantic plot in here somewhere? Whoops, I think I forgot to put it in...

*Music*

Dearly Departed-Unlike Pluto

Losing My Love-verzache

Best I Ever Had-The Unlikely Candidates

Follow My Feet-The Unlikely Candidates

Arrested Youth-Mirrors

That's all for now. Thanks for reading!