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Chapter 11 – Like a Leaf

Day 7

Brook hadn't seen the others for some time now. He'd heard a shout that might have been Luffy a while ago, far to the west and just within hearing range. It hadn't sounded like a triumphant "I found something!" shout, though, nor an "I need help!" shout, just a frustrated "get out here already!" shout, and so Brook had ignored it and pushed on.

They were spreading out too far, he knew. It would be smarter to regroup, to make sure they were close enough to help if anyone should run into trouble.

But it was past noon. They'd been searching for Zoro for a day and a half—half of that with knowledge of the semi-literal deadline hanging over their heads—and they hadn't found a trace of either Zoro or the god. It was time to start taking some risks.

A flash of white caught Brook's eye, and he slowed, peering through the trees ahead.

It was a little girl, no older than Zoro's current age, wearing a simple white dress that almost glowed in the dim light filtering through the forest canopy. She was closer than he'd first assumed, and it was really a wonder he hadn't spotted her sooner. What was she doing out here alone? Was she an islander who had just been Renewed? Did this mean he was close?

The girl met his gaze with tears in her eyes, and darted forward. "Please," she said. Her hair was as white as her dress, glittering like starlight, and her skin was so pale Brook wondered if she'd spent her whole life here, away from the sun. "Please, I need your help."

Her angelic face and watery blue-white eyes were hard to resist, even if she wasn't yet old enough to ask about her panties, but Brook made a valiant effort.

"Oh my. What's the matter? I'd be happy to help, but you see, I'm already quite busy helping a dear friend of mine, and I'm afraid I really can't let myself get sidetracked. Is there anyone else around here?" It was a foolish question—he hadn't seen anyone but the girl and the other Straw Hats for hours, and if she did know where someone else was, surely she'd have gone to them already—but it was all he could think to offer. "Maybe I could take you to them and they could—"

"I know, I know you are!" The girl clutched at Brook's sleeve, nearly pulling his coat off his shoulder. "I'm trying to help him, too, but I couldn't—I didn't do enough, and when I tried, he went to the wrong house, and now—" Her free hand swiped at her eyes. "This is all my fault! I'm sorry, I was scared, I couldn't stop it—no, I didn't want to stop it—I thought—"

Brook frowned down at her. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

The girl yanked on his arm and he took a stumbling step forward as she pierced him with frantic eyes. "There's no time! Please, I'll explain everything later, and you can hate me all you want, but Zoro needs help now!"

And Brook still didn't understand, but Zoro did need help, and this girl apparently knew where to find him, and that was all he needed to know, for now.

"Lead the way."

The tree Boran finally stopped at was an impressive sight. It was huge and gnarled, perched almost at the edge of a cliff. A deep, twisted lightning scar marred its trunk, and the wood looked old and dry, ready to go straight into a fire as soon as it was cut.

"Pretty neat, right?" Boran leaned on his axe, peering at the tree. He waved Zoro forward. "Come take a look from over here. The scar looks especially cool from the cliff side; just be careful."

It did look cool, Zoro decided once he'd cautiously shuffled past. Like someone had set off an explosion inside the trunk.

"Y'know," Boran said as he began sizing up the tree to figure out the best place to cut, "people used to believe lightning was an act of god." His axe swung loosely in his hand. "They'd probably think up some reason this tree had that blast coming for it. Ridiculous, isn't it? It's a tree—what harm could it do anyone just standing here?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"It's funny, the levels of belief people have," Boran continued. "I've met any number who claim to be rational and educated—they know the real cause of lightning, they know what an eclipse is and why it happens, they know sickness isn't brought on by demons—they're nothing like their poor, superstitious ancestors. And yet those same people will believe, not a doubt in their minds, that there's something waiting for them after they die, without any proof at all. What sense does that make?"

"Not…much?" Zoro guessed. He was getting bored of looking at the tree now, and wanted to find a comfortable spot to try to nap while Boran got on with chopping it down. But Boran was still gesturing with his axe, too close for Zoro to try slipping past to the other side, and his sudden rant showed no signs of slowing down.

"There's a god on this island, did you know? That's what it's called, anyway. The people here know lightning isn't an act of god because they can see with their own eyes what their god is capable of. They have all the proof they could want, from their point of view. Their god doesn't make lightning. What it does do…" The axe gestured at Zoro.

"It's this island's 'god' that did this to you, you know."

Zoro's eyes, which had been drooping shut, flew open. "Huh?"

"Don't take it personally. It does that to everyone. We have a nice long life, then the 'god' strips it all away and makes us go and be kids again."

"What?" But he hadn't been that old, had he? He'd been a grown-up, but he'd seen lots of people on the island older than he'd been.

"Eternal life, some call it," Boran said. "Fools. It isn't, because they don't stay the same person after. They forget everything. Friends, family, all the good times and bad—that's lost, every time. Worse than lost." Boran looked at him. The easy smile he'd worn all morning was gone. Zoro hadn't noticed when it had disappeared.

"You know about that part, don't you, Zoro? How horrible you feel around the people who used to be important to you."

Zoro swallowed. "How do you—"

"Because it's the same for all of us! It's meant to help us give up, to make us want to discard our old lives and start over. People we care about, people we'd give our lives for—and we're meant to just toss them away like they don't matter! This island certainly has a powerful and terrible god, to ask such things of us." He looked out at the sea of trees far below the cliff.

"But the important thing, the thing everyone else on this island seems to miss, is that proof of the 'god' being powerful isn't the same as proof that it's a god. I used to believe, right along with all the others. I know better now. And if the thing you're fighting isn't actually a god, well. It gives you options."

Boran turned back to look at Zoro, and there was a smile there again, but it brought no warmth with it. "I'll ask one last time: are you sure you didn't tell those outsiders anything? Are you sure you still don't remember anything from before you met Sylvi, the night you came to my house?"

Did Boran know about the flashes? How? "I—"

"Because y'see, the thing is, when you showed up at my door that night, for just a moment, I thought you might've recognized me. And if that's the case, well, I'd have to take the chance to continue the fascinating conversation we had the first time we met."

"The…the first time?"

"Oh yes. We've met before, though you were quite a bit taller then." The axe thumped down to rest in front of Boran, though he kept a tight grip on the handle. "This isn't how I wanted things to go, you know. I'm not sure why Sylvi would have sent you to my house, of all places—was it a message, or just a strange coincidence?—but I was prepared to take proper care of you and let your part in this whole mess die with your former self. I was going to leave you be, I really was, but…you're remembering things, aren't you? Thanks to those outsiders sniffing around where they're not wanted, you're remembering. That's a problem, Zoro, because I can't take the chance you might remember the wrong thing and tell someone."

"W-what are you talking about?" Zoro was uncomfortably aware his back was to a cliff, and that Boran stood between him and safety. He stepped forward, and the axe rose to block his path.

"Hold on, now, I'm not finished talking. I haven't had anyone to talk to about this, you see; if the other islanders knew, they'd force a Renewal, or even decide I'd be better off dead. I think maybe Melwyn's guessed some of it—might be why he tried so hard to make you leave. Or maybe he's just scared of getting involved in the 'god's' business, who can say? He still believes, after all, unlike me."

The axe touched the ground again, and Boran leaned on it, looking so casual another kid might have thought they could easily get past before he could get it up and swinging. Zoro knew better.

"I'll tell you, then, since there's no one else to tell, and you won't be passing it on once I have. I'll tell you the story of how I stopped believing in god."

"I love kids, did you know, Zoro? Well, I run a care house for Renewals; I'd be a fool to do that if I didn't like kids. I've enjoyed it, too, though it was really my wife's idea. She loved kids even more than I did. Loved taking care of them.

"Oh yes, I had a wife. Didn't know that, did you? She was the most wonderful wife anyone could ask for. I couldn't wait for each new day, just to get to spend more time with her. For a long time, if you'd asked me what I would change to make our lives even better, I wouldn't have had an answer. That's how perfect things were.

"But time changes everything, I suppose. After a few years, all our children-who-weren't-really-children weren't enough for us anymore. Renewal only takes us back to about seven, you see—I suppose so that we can still look after ourselves to some extent, or maybe babyhood memories just aren't interesting to the 'god'. Regardless, you never get to experience caring for a baby if you only look after Renewals. And while they'll be normal little kids most of the time, every once in a while they'll do something, say something, that lets their real age peek through. Dam—darn creepy, once you know what you're seeing. We still loved them, but…we wanted a baby. A child of our own, something new and bright and ours.

"But people don't die here, you know? Not most of us, anyway. Old age, illness, injury—unless someone's killed instantly, they'll just be taken for Renewal. Can't die, can't leave the island—if everyone had kids on top of that, you'd need to kill someone just to sit down. So they control it. Once a year, everyone who wants to have a kid puts their name in and hopes they get lucky.

"Oh, you know about that, do you? Didn't expect that, since I didn't—oh, wait. There was one yesterday, wasn't there? In the town where I found you. Did you see it? Or did someone tell you about it? I should have, you know. As your caretaker, it's my job to explain to you about Renewal and the 'god' and how everything works. But then, I'm telling you now, aren't I? Sorry it's a bit late. Though not everyone explains about the lottery right away anyway.

"Anyway, folks sign up for these lotteries, and some actually do get lucky. There are people who're picked on their very first try, can you imagine that? And people who win more than once. Now that's what I call lucky. Maybe unfairly so.

"And on the other end of the scale, you've got people like my wife and I. We tried, Zoro. We put our names in every year for twenty fuc—full years, and not once were we chosen. Not once, before our time was up. They don't let you try forever, you see. Once you get past a certain age, it's judged 'too risky', and you're supposed to graciously step aside for the younger crowd and just accept that your own children aren't something you're meant to have this time around. As if waiting for your next Renewal—when you're a different person, when you'll be with a different person—is a reasonable solution.

"My wife and I weren't willing to do that, though. We couldn't give up, just like that. So we decided to commit blasphemy: we moved to a new town, on the other side of the island, somewhere no one knew us. And we had a baby. A boy. He was the most beautiful, the most perfect…

"We were discovered, of course. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to get around the lottery by moving. We thought we'd been careful, so careful…but it wasn't enough. And so we—or rather, our son—became a 'problem' for the island's council to solve.

"What to do with the baby? They couldn't just let us keep him, oh no, that might encourage others to follow in our footsteps. The precious system must be preserved, naturally. But no one was quite barbaric enough to suggest killing him outright. If they'd tried, his wouldn't have been the only death that day. I'd never fought a day in this life at that point, but I'd have taken on anyone who tried to touch my boy, and I know my wife would have been right behind me. But fortunately for them, they didn't go there.

"Eventually, they came to what they considered a 'fair' decision. They took him to a neighboring island and left him there. Just left him, like he was a stray dog no one wanted.

"We wanted him! He would have grown up loved like no child had ever been, but rules are more important than happiness here, I suppose. We were told he was in safe hands, that he'd be well looked after, but how could we just believe that? We were his parents! We'd only had him for a little while, but already he'd completely captured our hearts. How were we supposed to just go on without him?

"My wife couldn't. We could have had another forty years together, but she took early Renewal to escape the pain. That's what I was told, at least. Sometimes, I've wondered if she…but never mind. However it happened, she was Renewed. I've seen her a couple times since then, you know. From a distance, of course. I don't want to hurt her more. She's a teenager now. She looks happy.

"I'd be lying if I said I've never been tempted to do the same, but I just can't go through with it, in the end. I don't want to forget. Not her, not our baby, and not what this island's 'god' cost us. And I want my son back. I want to leave this island and find my boy.

"Why haven't I, you might ask. Well, y'see, Renewal gives you a connection to the 'god', and therefore, to the island as well. Even after just one Renewal, you can feel it, can't you, Zoro? That connection, it gets stronger the more you're Renewed, and me? Maybe I'm one of the people who first came here, maybe I'm from one of the earlier generations of kids, I don't know, but I've been Renewed so many times that I can't leave the island for more than an hour or two, and that's not enough to get even a quarter of the way to anyplace else. Not that I even know which island they took him to. That'd be dangerous knowledge for me to have.

"I need time, Zoro. I need to break the connection. And it's the false god who creates the connection, so as far as I can see, the only way I can leave this island and find my son…is to kill the 'god'. If it's dead, the pull will disappear. It has to."

Maybe Zoro would have been able to appreciate the story more if Boran had kept the axe still while he'd been talking, but nervous energy had been rolling off him in waves, and less than a minute into his tale he'd been gesturing wildly, the blade coming uncomfortably close to Zoro's narrow strip of cliff more than once.

Plus there was the whole "you won't live to tell anyone about this" part to think of. That made the axe much more important than a story about something that had happened years ago, in Zoro's opinion.

"I had it all planned! I'd done what research I could. I'd chosen my method. I'd chosen the day and time. I was going to do it at night, because even she has to sleep sometime. I set a fire in town, so that even if she was awake, she'd be distracted."

Boran snorted, the way people did when they pretended to be amused by something they didn't find funny at all. "But maybe there's a real god out there somewhere, a god of luck, and they hate me, because that day I picked? Of all the days I could have picked, I chose the one on which you and your friends arrived on the island.

"I don't know why you were there, how you found me—instinct or intuition or pure dumb luck, I suppose it doesn't matter—but you ruined everything. Oh, from the outside, it must have looked like you were doing the right thing—you didn't know any better, and you were clearly not the kind of person who could just stand back and watch a little girl die—but that doesn't change the results."

Little girl?

"Two things, just two things, kept it from being a fatal disaster. First, the 'god' doesn't seem to have realized that I'm the one who attacked it. I wouldn't have expected the disguise I wore to have fooled it for long, but clearly it must have, or I wouldn't be around to talk to you now."

Zoro didn't want Boran to talk to him. He wanted to get off this stupid mountain, out of this forest, and…he wasn't sure what should come after that. Find a safe place to nap, maybe. He wasn't nearly as sleepy as he had been before threats and axes had been a thing, but even the thought of dying couldn't shake his bone-deep exhaustion completely.

"Second," Boran continued, "it apparently decided you were a threat, perhaps because you'd seen too much for an outsider, and Renewed you, preventing you from telling anyone what you'd seen. Because unlike the 'god', you did get a decent look at my face.

"Eventually, the 'god' will eat those memories of yours, and she'll know. But for now I'm still here, still as free as any of us can be in this cursed paradise, and I still remember. So I can try again. I can make sure that this time, I'll succeed." Boran's stance shifted, and Zoro tensed, ready to move. Storytime was almost over. "First, though, I need to tie up a loose end. I need to make sure you can't tell anyone, because with those outsiders around I can't trust that your memories will stay gone."

Zoro flung himself down as the axe whistled over his head. He scanned his surroundings frantically, looking for a way out, an opening to get past Boran and away from the edge.

There wasn't one. The cliff jutted out into a point—not much of one, only a few feet past the tree, but enough that someone as big as Boran could easily block the path back to safety. Could he climb the tree, maybe? But there weren't many low branches, and even if he could get out of reach quickly enough, it would leave him a sitting duck. Boran could just chop down the tree and send it over the cliff, taking Zoro with it.

Zoro ducked another swing. "It'll hurt less if you hold still," Boran told him. "I'll make it quick. I'm not enjoying this, I promise you; I just want it to be over."

Like hell I'm going to just roll over and die.

Boran swung again, and Zoro lunged for the tree; even if climbing was out, it would still give him some cover. His foot caught on an exposed root and he tumbled to the ground, then kept rolling as he saw the axe coming back around for another pass.

Something hard hit his back. Zoro's first wild thought was that someone else had been there, hiding somehow, and he'd been too focused on Boran and his axe to see their attack coming. But no, his back was on the ground, and it hurt, but not in the sharp piercing way that meant he'd been cut. Zoro shoved himself farther behind the tree and risked a glance down.

He'd landed on a branch. It had obviously broken off some time ago, and the bark was peeling, but the bruise on his back told him the wood was still solid, and it was nearly as thick as his wrist. He snatched it up. It wasn't much of a weapon, especially against an axe, but Zoro was going to be the world's greatest swordsman. He'd make it work.

Scrambling to his feet, Zoro planted himself in the best stance he could remember how to do. You don't have to beat him, he told himself, even as something deep within him protested the idea of running away. You just have to get past him. Once he was in the trees, he'd lose Boran somehow.

Boran looked at Zoro's branch sword and sighed. "I suppose I can't blame you for trying to survive. But it's pointless. All you're doing is making this harder on everyone."

On Boran's next swing, Zoro ducked, then lashed out with his branch. It connected. Zoro might be missing most of his memories, but he'd retained enough skill to give him several steps up on someone like Boran, who for all his size and strength had never fought before.

Unfortunately, no amount of half-remembered swordsmanship could give his branch an edge, or give him back the power to send someone six times his size flying. Boran stumbled back a step. Just one. The sliver of an opening Zoro had created closed even as he rushed forward, and he had to throw himself back again to dodge the axe's return swing.

"That actually hurt, kid. I'm grateful I don't have to deal with your full-size version this time around. I suppose I'd last about five seconds." Boran poked at his side. His shirt was torn, and blood leaked sluggishly from a long scratch.

A scratch. That was the best Zoro had been able to do. One step back, and a scratch. It was infuriating. He could have done better than this, once. He could have stopped Boran without any sword at all, once. But he couldn't remember how, and he was too small, too weak, too—

The axe whistled toward his face. Caught off guard, Zoro had no choice but to block with his branch. The blade sank deep into the wood—somehow, miraculously, it didn't chop completely through—and Zoro's hands burned as his improvised weapon was yanked roughly from his grasp.

Boran tossed the branch aside. "All right, enough. I applaud your ingenuity, Zoro, but we're wasting time. Every second this drags on increases the chance she'll notice us. I can't let that happen."

The axe swung, again and again, so fast that the air was filled with a constant whistling. It was all Zoro could do to dodge. If he'd been a normal kid—even one who'd been training since he could walk—he knew he'd already be dead. Some instinct or half-buried memory or something must have been helping him; it was like he could see where the axe was going to move just before it did. Even so, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up for long. The swings were getting closer. Twist right—he narrowly avoided losing an ear. Duck!—green fluttered through the air as the blade swept over his head. Left, to the tree—the axe caught his arm, and Zoro howled. The wound wasn't deep enough to be serious, but it hurt, and it would slow him. Slow was bad. Slow was dangerous. He needed to be faster, he needed—

Boran took a step forward, sensing victory, and swung again. Zoro jumped back—

His feet caught air, and he fell.

It's not a cliffhanger if the character's already fallen off the cliff, right? ;)

We're getting close to the end now; four chapters left by my current count. There's still one last chunk of writing I need to do for one of those chapters, but we're getting close to the end! I'm both happy and not, haha. Anyway, thank you for reading this far, and I hope you'll stick with me the rest of the way!