Hi everyone I'm alive!
(I mean... I guess that's good?
Stop it you know you love me
*sigh*)
Anyway...
Reviews :3
LadyLiberal - Yayyyyyy fluffffffff
Someone - First of all, perhaps and perhaps ;) Second, guilty xD Third, I apologize my dear reader but you won't be getting the rest of that... um... interaction :3 And finally, he's Zoro, even if I too wish for him to be more gentle with our delicate archeologist (ak L) he probably won't cuz he's Zoro, so don't question it.
Victoria Horn - uwu
JMoon - Well I mean they're both super chill so I guess there wouldn't be too much of a reaction *insert thinking emoji cuz im writing this on my computer* Also yes, Nami, I was waiting for someone to mention that xD. Thank uuuuuu :3
So the general consensus seems to be that yes, it did count as fluff, even though it wasn't the... traditional? fluff and I didn't even write the whole thing but I'm glad you enjoyed what you got of it x3
(longauthorsnotesorry;-;)
Shadows
Perched on the railing of the Sunny, his eyes glued somewhere distant on the island, a swordsman had his hand on his two remaining katanas, the fingers constantly curling and uncurling as he seemed to grab for another one which is no longer within his grasp. Underneath the green attire, faded and red-stained bandagings snaked their way around his exposed torso, the once golden brown skin dulled and paled by long-endured pain and fatigue.
Roronoa Zoro.
Roronoa Zoro.
Pirate Hunter.
The man who once struck fear into the hearts, souls, and minds of thousands now a mere shadow of his former self. A shadow that faded as day after day wore by, as the once vibrant sun dipped closer and closer to the horizon. A shadow that flickered and shuddered like the sputtering flame of a dying candle.
A shadow that hid the same roaring wild fire within.
Something dear to him has been taken, and this man will not hesitate to reclaim it through whatever means necessary.
Robin knew.
Her fingers floated up to touch her lips, still soft and tender from last night, for perhaps the millionth time, and once more she wondered how he refrained from doing anything that even faintly hinted at what had passed between them, physically and mentally. If she had one word to define this man that sat not a few meters away, it would be willpower. There was no limit to his will to do what he wants: the will to fight, the will to rise, the will to defeat, and most importantly, the one thing that she perhaps admired and adored most about him...
"I want to live!"
The will to live.
Maybe that was why she had suddenly found that strength, that desire, to keep living... maybe it had been those green eyes that had found hers and shoved a fistful of will into her through some invisible bond, something that had been set in stone long before he offered her his trust.
She was behind him. He would know it anytime, anywhere. That unique essence, the darkness that radiated from her, now combined with a gentle flow of warmth, of a thing called love, a thing that he has finally had the courage to understand, to try and understand.
In the past, perhaps he had once been capable of loving, perhaps when Kuina was still alive, he had had some form of childish crush on the girl, but never love, and after she left this world… He realized that he was afraid to offered up his heart again, that...
The tingling sensation once again shuddered down his spine, the feeling of hundreds of eyes searing into his very being, and amidst all of that, a presence that he hasn't felt for much too long. Two decades of training snatched his body, and tension rocketed through his muscles.
Eyes eyes eyes.
The left hand that had been so restlessly fidgeting froze in mid air, the fingers instinctively falling into a familiar grip. It's there.
It' there it's there it's there.
His treasure is underneath this very ship among those tiny monsters that had so relentlessly chanted his name and tried (though failed miserably) to take him to whatever twisted soul had wanted to take his life in the most agonizing way possible. Impulse alone was enough to drive him over the side of the ship, yet a hand, slender and pale and warm, gripped his own, and the fire died a little under the steady gaze of Nico Robin.
Thank the lord she had moved fast enough to grab his hand before he jumped off again, the fire in his eye mixed with lightning and the promise of an incoming thunderstorm. The skin that touched hers was warm enough to make someone worry, and Robin gave a firm but gentle tug to his arm, willing him to back away from the railing onto the safety of the deck. What she wasn't expecting was a hiss of pain.
The sound ricocheted throughout her, and she felt her arm slacken without meaning to. The tug had been no more than small movement to urge him away from the water, yet it had been enough to hurt, enough that he let himself show a sign of weakness.
"Zoro…"
He seemed to have realized his mistake the moment the sound escaped his lips, and his eye was nothing short of steely when it found her own, yet a tendril of apology still found its way in, swimming around in the green depth that beheld her.
"Stop, please, rest, take a break."
"They have it."
She knew what he meant, yet still her mind begged for him to rest, to let his body unwind, to let the tension leak out of the taught muscles little by little, until they can go back to what they were that night when he had fallen asleep on her shoulder, when relaxation had adorned his features and he hadn't been anything more than Zoro. Just Zoro. No Pirate Hunter, no "World's Greatest Swordsman", not even a pirate with a bounty on his head. Just Zoro: a man who had finally learned to love.
"We'll get it back, just… not now." Robin held her voice steady, every word firm yet a gentle reprimand as they left her lips. Her teal ringed eyes kept an iron grip on his gaze, keeping him there like a trapped animal, a silent growl rippling in the pool of unnatural green.
Bracing herself, Robin gave another tug to his arm, watching the pain dance in his eye alongside the savagery, feeling her heart crack as he noticeably swallowed another hiss. At some point during their exchange, the crew had gathered around, quiet as death himself, even Luffy's eyes blanketed with a layer of solemnity, his straw hat hanging limply behind him. Robin watched as the swordsman's eye swept over the faces of the gathered, his friends, a family, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, she had seen some glimmer of remorse as the steel wavered. It unsettled her.
There shouldn't be anything that he needs to feel remorse for, they were a crew, a family, and they help each other through the hardest of times, she herself having survived her own due to this amazing ground of individuals, including the man that now stands in front of her, that she now loves with passion that she had thought long gone from her soul. If they lose something, they lose it together, if they gain something, they celebrate together, what was there to be remorseful for? The feeling of unease climaxed as she felt the muscles beneath her hand shift, and then tense. On the verge of frantic, Robin turned to the crew, only to find their captain and cook in a similar state of being, and then she heard it. Felt it. The power that rang through the sky, the darkness that reflected the charred soul underneath,
The Wind Cutter's laughter.
Zoro snarled, a sound more feral than a human should have been able to make, even one with such a demonic aura. Shadows flared across the deck of the sunny, tainted with the eerie purple of night and death, and it didn't take the archeologist long to match the presence with the God of Demons: Asura.
The darkness spread far and wide, the very ocean rumbling with the hidden power and rage, the waves splashing aboard as the hand beneath her own became foreign, and a demon unleashed itself upon the world.
The Sunny shuddered with the impact from some unknown force, but Zoro saw nothing past the flare of purple energy that now encased his body. He hasn't summoned this force for too long, and during the two years it had begged to be released, yet he hadn't allowed it, because he needed to improve on his physical skills and mental shields in order to refrain from bowing to this demon within, like so many others before him have no doubt did. The voice rasped in his ear, a malicious yet honey-sweet thing that hooked him, baited him to come, join me, come and we can achieve the dreams that seem so out of reach. Come. Come. Come. The cursed katana shuddered, even in its sheath it refuses to stay still, and the scar over his left eye burned, searing into his skin as if someone had set it on fire. A low, animalistic growl rippled out of his chest, and Zoro felt the beast tearing and shredding its way to the surface as the essence of the Wado Ichimonji once again disappeared from his mind's eye.
In a distant reality, the swordsman glimpsed the retreat of a shadow, a wild, bucking figure with the tail of a fish and the body of a horse. The man on top gripped in his hand the all too familiar katana, the white sheath gleaming defiantly in the hands of one that it does not respect. He was also faintly aware of the woman that held him back, the hand that still lay on top of his, and some still logical part of him knew that if it wasn't for that hand, even the Sunny wouldn't have survived the blast of energy that roiled beneath the flames, snarling and hissing and clawing at the mental shields that he launched one after another to keep them at bay. As if on cue, they flared, the purple hue reflecting off the faces of the Strawhat crew and sending the sky above the Sunny tumbling into impenetrable darkness.
Their ship shuddered, and even through the demon whispering bargains into his ear, Zoro felt those eyes, felt them through the hundred-year-old wood that was the Thousand Sunny, felt them daring him to go after that katana. And oh they knew he will, and even if it is a trap he will get that katana back. Through whatever means necessary. Sunny rocked again, and two and two came together in Zoro's mess of a mind, somehow finding each other across the chaotic waters and winds. What their ship had encountered that day had not been a mere rock or coral reef, it had been those little things, the monsters that resembled ants. They were the ones responsible for keeping them on the island for so long, for someone had planned this since the very, very beginning. The laughter echoed in his mind, and when he saw land beyond the railing of the Sunny, he did not stop to contemplate how it got there before his legs moved of their own accord. Zoro sprang off, his hand leaving that of Robin's, the feline grace no sooner landing him on the sand before the muscles bunched again and he launched through the air like a bird, a falcon, an eagle, a predator.
Straight into the forest, where nothing but darkness and shadow awaited, where his own flames and shadows, now an unsettling shade of blood red and demonic purple, would clash with Noroi's. And rip them apart.
They writhed and growled in answer.
They ran with him this time, not after him.
The Strawhats surrounded their swordsman as he hurtled through the woods, the redwood trees losing their comforting touch and pressing in on them from all sides. What had just occurred on the Sunny sang through her head again, and again, and again. Never before has she seen Zoro in such a state of hatred and rage and something that, if she hadn't known better, would have read as panic. Or maybe it was panic…
Robin, truthfully, did not know better.
They flanked him, on all sides, as the flame mercilessly ate a passage through the forest, the greenery shriveling up wherever the reddish purple fire even grazed. Not a matter of minutes have passed before a long, ravaging scar tore its way through the forest, the horrid stench of rotting wood and charred carcasses of small creatures lingering in its wake.
Robin was crashing through the underbrush on his right, the purple flame practically licking at her skin, when the abrupt halt almost brought her tumbling onto her face into the dirt. Feeling the burn creeping up her face, Robin scrambled to gather herself and her shredded dignity, but when she looked up, any thought of lingering pride or embarrassment fled from the sight before her, while her soul strained towards it.
The temple was… magnificent, for the lack of a better word, or any words worthy of describing this masterpiece laid bare before her. It was an ancient thing, the topmost layers already crumbling away into nothing but sand to fall amongst the grains on the beach, the shore that they had reached, where the temple perched on a cliff, over the raging waters of the ocean below. Even the waves seemed to sense the presence of the temple, the ancient, mysterious power that surely resided within, for they roared and pummeled the jagged death below the cliff, jutting out of the water like guardians of the ruin, like a trap that nature itself laid to keep this beautiful piece of architecture and history safe. However, what intrigued her and called to her even more was the runes carved into the cracked and weathered stone, the writing that covered the temple from roof to foundation, the runes that she recognized from the prophecy.
The stone flashed in her mind, and Robin did a mental comparison of that to the structure before her. The color, the writing, even the texture of what she can see of the temple matched that of the rock. Thoughts whirled in her head, so much to know, to decode, to find out about this world. Puzzle pieces jumbled together, and she, unbeknownst to herself, slipped away into that silent realm of hers, the fingers in her mind desperately trying to understand the mass of mystery before her. That is, until a long, rumbling growl brought her back to the real world, and she turned just in time to see Zoro leap.
He saw the flames, was the shadows, swift as the wind and sea and sky as he soared towards Noroi, whose blades clashed in aura as he held them firm, as every second brought an enemy closer and closer and closer. A snarl clawed its way out of his body, and Zoro wasted no time in drawing his own katanas.
The Road of Harmony and the First Demon Splitter.
The Water of Autumn and the Third.
The clash sent the very Earth rumbling with displeasure, and when Marshall D. Teach raised his hands, shadows wreathing around his jewelry-adorned fingers…
All hell broke loose.
Minna-San, the real storm has begun.