Hi everyone^^

My great thanks go to Fairykick and Anana16 (and don't worry about your french ;-)) and all of you favoring and follwing.

Today we will continue with a soft chapter about small emotions, before we revive Mihawk's strategy.

Critic is always welcome, without it's hard to improve ;-)

I hope you have a great weekend and see you soon

Sharry

Chapter 3 – Realization

-Zoro-

Feeling miserable he looked around. Silent, angry tears dropped down his cheeks and he was just not able to stop them. Hatred and desperation dwelt within him, watching the feeling of helplessly devouring his pride. What was wrong with him? Why could he not think clearly? Why was he so agitated?

Still sitting on that bed he watched his reflection. He was clueless about what happened and why he looked the way he did now, but one thing was certain: The Shichibukai was right. In this body and with his missing power he would not survive for two days in the wilderness.

Slowly he watched the place he was in, tried for one moment to calm himself, to distract himself. The generous, pentagonal room was completely held in white. Next to the bed was the white door leading to the corridor, in front was still the chair, where the Shichibukai had been sitting when Zoro first woke up. Between the chair and the bed was a little night table with a lamp and an empty wine bottle, how he wished for it to be filled. Two windowsides showed the back of a mansion, a well-kept garden and the wide ocean. A small desk stood in front of one window, at its side the tall mirror, with those two big, green eyes hunting him.

To the left of the bed was another small night table. Behind it was a second door, probably leading to the bathroom. The circle was closed by a white drawer connecting the bathroom door and the mirror. All in all the room seemed friendly and welcoming, filled with light and damn expensive. The pirate began to wonder what kind of smug family background his host had. But he could not prevent his circling thoughts from catching up to him. He hated himself for being helpless, while his thin arms hugged his knees and he buried his tears in his sleeves. The body of a girl. The house of the man he wanted to defeat one day, whose title he was chasing. And even though he remembered every little detail of the last horrifying seconds of his life, he was breathing; his heart was beating in this little chest. He had no idea what was going on.

Suddenly the door was slammed open by a cyclone.

"My dear child. You are awake, finally. I was really worried about you."

The cyclone turned out to be a tall grown, firm woman.

"Misses Bosatsu?" he asked unintentionally fainthearted. He cursed himself silently for his weak little voice. Shocked she looked down to him.

"No, no, no my dear little one. It is Kanan for you." She somehow reminded him of someone.

"And now stop worrying, my dear. You will take a shower now and I will prepare some food, alright?" She blushed excitedly, reminding him somewhat of the lovedrunken cook. That damn cook, hopefully he was alright.

His tiny hands started trembling, but before he could hide them in his lap, the housekeeper reached out for them, taking them carefully in her own, looking concerned and also wrathful at those pathetic bruises.

"You poor thing. You must have gone through hell."

Carefully she caressed his cheek with one finger, touching the dried tear paths. He tried to back up, but he could not move. She smiled loving, while he was in between fight or flight.

He just decided to at least fight her with his words, when she started to talk again.

"It is all good now. Nothing bad will happen to you. The landlord and I will protect you."

And then she surrounded his fragile body with her big arms. He stopped breathing, as he was hold determined against the warm chest of a stranger. His instincts knew immediately that this poor body was chanceless against this woman made of muscles and power, even though she seemed to be no fighter. Hectic thoughts told him the best words he could say to defend himself. He did not want to be touched by her; however he knew that it was not ill-meant. It was like Chopper clinging onto him when he was afraid or Luffy jumping on him in pure happiness. It was well-intended. The black haired woman seemed to feel, that the girl in her arms was frozen, because she leaned back, only keeping her hands at those fragile shoulders.

"Why?" He asked her.

"Why what, my child?" Her smile confused him. Why was she so friendly? Why was she not scared? Why did she act so familiar towards him?

"Why are you so nice? I could be a mass murder and criminal. I could mean danger for you. Why are you helping me?"

She laughed fullheartedly, but then her eyes became serious.

"Even if, now you are here. The past has passed. Like I said, from now on we will protect you."

With those words she rose. An almost forgotten familiar warmth reached his heart. No, she was not completely like the cook, but of whom did she remind him? What strange words did she say? Why would she say something like that to him? She did not know him! She had no clue, who he was, what he was!

"What is your name, honey?" Her last word irritated him. No one had ever called him that. His eyebrows twitched slightly.

Annoyed he answered: "Okay listen up. I'm no sweet, little Lorel …"

"Loreen! What a beautiful name and it is fitting you so well." She interrupted him, smiling bright and full of love.

"No, I was going to say…" He tried correcting her, but she did not even stop talking.

"It reminds me of an old folklore. But, well let us go on with the day, my dear Loreen. Come along, I will help you in the bathroom."

"No!" He said louder than planned, seeing how her eyes grew big in bewilderment.

"No, uhm, I meant, that's really kind of you, but I'll be fine on my own."

Why did he not tell her his name? Why did this big smile scare him more, than any enemy he met so far, even more than the navigator of his crew?

She nodded understandingly, like a loving mother. "Of course, my little one. So I will leave you alone. But no worries. I will be right back, with something proper for you to wear."

She winked before leaving the room, leaving behind a truly confused pirate. This woman was special, warm-heartedly and full of live, not thinking at all about his past. On top of that she did not listen to one word he said and seemed to be not scared of anything. He knew just too well, at whom she reminded him. He hoped that he was alive, that he was well.

From now on we will protect you.

Shaking his head he put the trembling legs back on the ground, just at that moment the door was pushed open forcefully once again.

"I totally forgot about that!" The housekeeper said frantically, holding up a small bottle and some cotton wool.

"We need to disinfect those wounds."

In the next second she was already holding his wrist.

"No, that's really not nece-Ouch!" Surprised he looked at his burning palm. It hurt, it really hurt. Since when did disinfecting hurt?!

"Stop moving, my child. If we act now, you will be as good as new in a few days. But if it gets infected we might get some bad problems."

He did not move, while she cleaned his wounds and talked to him like a little child, never stopped babbling. Asking him about allergies, his favorite food. Talking about the weekly market and the rude fish seller. She talked about her duties as a housekeeper and about her grown-up children, who all had moved out years ago. He listened only halfheartedly, not missing that she had not asked him one personal or uncomfortable question. Her fingers worked determined but soft and carefully, like Chopper would do.

"Okay, we are done." she said smiling. He nodded and thanked her silently. He should tell her now!

Suddenly she clicked her finger against his forehead.

"Stop making such a droopy face. It is all going to be alright. I promise."

He just looked at her. She confused him, but seemed like a warmhearted mother, like a person he did not want to hurt.

Again winking she left the room.

"I will get you some clothes, honey" and closed the door.

His gaze wavered over the closed door down to the pillow; he had thrown after the Shichibukai.

A little bit desperate he held his hurting head. He really had no idea, what he should do. Somehow he needed to inform his crewmates, that he was alright, that he was alive. But then he looked at those small, bruised hands.

Was he really alright?

He knew Hawk Eyes was right. This body was fragile and weak. With this body he would not be able to protect his friends. Damn it! He would not even be able to protect himself.

Why was he alive? Why was he in this damn weak body? Why was he here?

It would have been better, if he had just died!

Frustrated he hit the mattress. Once, twice, again and again, but it did not do any good, not at all. He missed them. He did not want anything more than being with them right now and to admit this weakness made him even angrier.

He shook his head and urged himself to breathe slowly.

He had to calm down. In the current situation he had no other choice, but to wait for the Shichibukai to return with new information. Till then he had to collect his strength and come up with a strategy. Just like he did back in prison. He could do that a second time.

Slightly swaying he finally got up. His legs were heavy and tired. Now, after the adrenaline had left his body, he could feel how exhausted he was. Trembling he went around the bed, holding onto the chair first then onto the desk. This feeble, depleted feeling was unfamiliar to him. Even after a fight, even badly injured he had never felt so beaten down. It felt like his muscles were nothing more than thin strings. Why was it so straining to move such a little body?

It took him ages to reach the bathroom. He was not really surprised that it looked pompous as well. The luxurious central point was a freestanding, cream-colored bathtub. One wall was fully covered by mirrors, the other two by windows. Light curtains brightened the room without letting anybody take a glimpse inside. One part of the room was separated by a wall made of glass. What lay behind was nothing else than the shower, big enough for four or five people. Next to the creamy sink was another curtain, which could be pulled over to hide the shower. Even the toilette looked like a throne itself. A delicate chandelier offered some warm light, reflected by the white marble.

Under his feet was a fluffy, white carpet but the rest of the room was cold, like it had not been used in a long time, although fresh, white towels were placed at the sink and the shower and it smelled of lavender.

He wrinkled his nose. Might be, that his host was some secret child of royalty, but this was way too much for him. It all looked snobbish. He did not fit into this world and did not want to. This world could not impress him with this showing-off. All of this false splendor could not keep up with the warm atmosphere of the Thousand Sunny.

He observed his reflection taking of the shirt, watched it slide down. Carefully he walked towards the mirror. Took his time again to look at his new body. He had to try to accept what had happened, so he could make the best out of it. Usually he was pretty good at this. Usually he never groaned over bad circumstances and usually he never tortured himself with what-if-questions.

Usually he simply adapted to the new situation and went on with his path. But this here was anything else than usual. Because no matter what had happened to him so far, he had always been able to relay on himself and his own body. But that was over now.

He did realize it the first time already, when he had seen that new body, but now it became even more obvious. In simple words he was now a woman, a girl, too young for any flirty experience or such a thing in his opinion. She looked definitely way younger than he actually was. Cursing he corrected himself. He looked way younger and was nobody at all, who looked like a thread.

Cautious he regarded those thin arms and legs, in a fight not only his lacking muscle force would give him an inferior position. He slightly pulled at the long, green hair; this would be a huge disadvantage in combat. Then he touched those small boobs. Although they were definitely not as big as those of Nami or Robin, he was certain, that those as well would be a hindrance in a fight.

His familiar scars or heavily earned weals were gone. On the contrary, except for those ridiculous bruises, no part of this body looked like it had worked or trained for a single moment at all.

No, this body was not made for combat. With this body he would never be able to become the greatest swordsman in the world.

When a girl grows up, she will lose out to guys in physical strength.

Silently those words hovered through his head.

It's good that you're a guy. I want to be the world's best too! If I only were a guy…

Forceless he hit the mirror. Just now he truly understood her fear, her anger, her sadness. Just now he felt the same helplessness, while those cursed tears showed up again. She had been right, that day she had already understood, what he just started to realize.

You're telling me all this crap after you beat me?! That's unfair! To become like you is my ambition!

Yeah, did he not tell her just that? At that time he really believed those words. But hell, how could he have known how much he would improve, grow. How strong he could become, how far he could go. But now he was back at the beginning, back to being weak and unlike her he did not know this body, did not grow up with it. Yes, he should have been more carefully with his wish.

Does that mean that if I beat you one day it is not because of my strength?! Doesn't this make me who has been training extremely hard to beat you look like an idiot?

He looked up at those green eyes, while one lonely tear dropped down his cheek.

He had trained so hard to surpass her. But who was he, if he could not be Roronoa Zoro, futures greatest swordsman in the world, former pirate hunter anymore. Cursing he tried to stop those tears.

Was it because he was woman now, that he could not control them? Was it harder for a woman than a man to keep those emotions in tune?

Well Nami and Vivi had been crying easily, but that did not apply to Kuina or Robin. They only did cry when they stood on the edge of an abyss.

Maybe it just took more effort, more discipline as a woman to control those emotions. If that was the case, than he had to begin immediately to harden his spirit. He could not accept any more weaknesses, he had to erase at least this one.

Let's make a promise! One of us must become the number one swordsman of the world! Let's see who can reach that goal first!

No! He did not train for years, fight for years, chasing their dream for years, just to erase weaknesses now. He had told Kuina that day that it did not matter if one was male or female. Everybody had the chance to reach one's goal.

But she was dead now. She could not fulfill their promise anymore, so he had no other choice. No matter if he was Roronoa Zoro or some big-eyed girl, he would become number one.

He had no choice and Kuina would laugh at him, if this little obstacle would bring him down. He would keep going, he would keep fighting.

Determined and filled with new energy he made his way over to the shower. His legs were still heavy, but this weariness could not stop his upcoming new courage. He would find a way and he would return to his crew. With this new force he turned up the water. Half a second later he saved himself out of the icy stream, unable to stop a quite girlish scream.

Yes, somehow he had to find a way, but not right now. Right now he just needed to find a way to turn this damn water warmer!

-Mihawk-

The sun heated his back, while he marched with large, hurried steps down the village. It felt almost like the first summerday of the year. Quite surprising compared to the cold evening the day before. He had already tried this whole way to stop himself from grinning. But every time he was not paying attention to it, when his thoughts went back to the other swordsman in the body of a girl at his old home, a smile crouched back on his face.

This morning had been truly interesting. The best thing about the whole situation, next to the tiny aspect that his favorite rival was still alive, was that he did not expect any of this to happen. It was the first time for a long time that he was not able to predict the events for every single day of his life. It was the first time for a long time that person could trip him up. Actually the last time that happened to him, it had been because of this child as well.

His unintentionally light walk led him directly to the familiar city hall, which was filled with a lot more busy people than the day before. The office workers, most of them were middle-aged women, watched him skeptical, but he did not mind those looks, he was used to them.

He was almost in a good mood as he rushed into his friends' office. Well, at least he tried to open the door, but it was locked. Confused and a little bit mad he shook the handle, but of course that was useless. Was his friend excluding him from something?

"Mr. Dracule? Is there anything you need?"

Surprised he turned around. In front of him stood the very attractive, young secretary of the mayor. Her pneumatic breast was pressed together by the huge pile of folders she was carrying. Except for that she looked spotlessly perfect, with every hair at the right place, just like the day before. He pointed at the door in his back and tried to explain his problem, but that was not as easy as it seemed. This woman always reminded him of some specific Shichibukai and he did not appreciate that at all. But she just nodded insightfully.

"I am very sorry. Mr. Fleet Admiral Cho is not present today. As you know, he only works here two days a week. Today he is at the marine base Suzuno."

"I have to contact him," he said without any further information.

"Of course. If you may follow me."

She did not wait for his answer, but strutted proudly passed him with her heels clicking over the tiled ground, her straight back not showing any sign of the burden she was carrying. Lacking a better idea he followed her.

At the antechamber they finally paused. The secretary, balancing her folders in one hand, asked him to wait, before entering the bureau of the mayor. Seconds later she returned, straightening the wrinkles of her dress eagerly. Elegant like a swan she sat down on her chair, like it was a throne, and placed her glasses like tiara on her pined-up hair. Her face showed the expression of nothing less than a noblewoman, not even the hint of a smile in her eyes.

"There is a transponder-snail in the meeting room. If you may wait there for a moment I would gladly put up a connection to Fleet Admiral Cho."

With a polite, but somehow degrading movement of her hand she offered him the doors to his left, which opened immediately by themselves and gave sight to a small, but well furnished room. Nodding sharply he thanked her and followed her offer.

Behind him those doors closed again. She was quite eerily in his eyes, this Houran.

Seconds later the big, brown patterned transponder-snail at the desk next to the doors started to mutter. It was noticeable larger than his own at his bureau and was attached to a fax machine.

With a small Gotcha he lifted up the receiver.

"Cho," was answered dryly from the other side of the line.

"Hey, Jirou, it is me."

"Hawky!" The surprised answer came.

"Gee! Why are you still at… you know what? I don't even want to know why. What's up?"

The annoyed expression of his childhood friend was reflected well fitting by the snail.

"I am in need of your aid."

The other one sighed loudly. "Okay listen. I don't know if you are aware of this, but some of us have to work to earn their money."

"Jirou, it concerns an important matter."

"Hawk, it really cannot be…"
"It is not about the topic from yesterday."

He bit his own lips. He had to be more careful with his choice of words. He was aware, that some of those navy distant calls were recorded and their codeword money was just confirming it.

"I don't have time for this today."

Mihawk looked at the snail, deliberating how to respond. His friend actually seemed really stressed.

"Oh my God! Very well then, what do you want?"

Inwardly he gasped of relief. "I do need information."

"About what?"

"The strawhat-crew."

The fleet admiral did not answer, for seconds not one sound traveled over the line.

"Hello?" The Shichibukai asked.

"Hawky. Are you sure, you want that. You're keying yourself up about it."

"But…"

"No, listen. This guy is dead! I know that you kind of saw something in him, but it's over. You have to let go of this obsession, that's what I told you at that time, when you showed up with this wanted poster and that's what I'm telling you now. It will not do…"
"Jirou! It is all quite fine."

"What are you talking? You are still at home The last 20 years you have never spend more than one day here. And now just because of some useless pirate you get all fired up in something that could be your doom!"

"Are you done?" He asked calmly.

"Yes, I think so," the other one murmured.

"Good, so please pay attention now. All I am demanding from you are information about the strawhats' whereabouts. Being one of the seven Shichibukai it is my duty to support the Marine if it concerns pirates."

"Hawky, are you sure…?"

"Please, do me this favor, this last one."
The man on the other side of the line laughed softly.

"First, you never care about your duties and second, I guess you asked me the last favor about a hundred times by now."

Mihawk knew that the other one was about to give in. He always did, when he talked about this.

"Fine with me. But I don't have time for now. Are you at home later?"

"I can arrange that."

"Okay, so I call you later tonight."

"Tha… oh, he just hung up."

-Zoro-

Slowly his wet feet lumbered over the cold ground until he reached the next piece of carpet. He was feeling much better after this warm water. His body was not as tired anymore, his thoughts not as distracted. Yes, somehow he would adapt to this new body. With more energy he wrapped a big towel around himself.

But this stupid, wet hair always got into his way. Concentrated he took a second towel and tied his hair up like a turban, like he had seen Nami and Robin doing it sometimes. But he did not get the hang to it. Every few steps the tower of hair and towel fell down in pieces. Angrily he bit his lip, something he would usually never do. Enough was enough!

Determined he rushed over to the big sink, pulling open drawers, but not finding what he was looking for. With a sigh he rebuilt the tower on his head and left the bathroom.

He paused at the dresser and ripped open all drawers again and rifled through the stuff hidden inside, tearing out neatly folded sheets and throwing aside small carafes of perfume, ignoring all of it, as it fell to the ground. Finally he felt something like a wooden haft and pulled out the little weapon. But to his disappointment it was neither a scissor nor a paper knife, but an ancient nail file. Angrily he threw it away, not caring as it got stuck into the wall.

He had to get rid of this annoying long hair, as fast as possible and then he had to get a suitable sword. In doubt it would also work the other way around.

But the only thing certain was that this hair needed to be cut short. Just because he was stuck in this spoiled body of little Miss Princess, it was no reason for him to look like this. Fixed hair and fight-fitting clothes would help with that.

Ignoring the battleground around the dresser he turned to the bed. Just like the housekeeper had promised, there were new clothes for him. It was a tough experience for him to get that damn bra on. He knew how to take it off, but he had no clue how any woman in this world was able to close those stupid hooks. After some minutes of tearing and pinching, the towel did already fall to the ground and he almost did as well, he finally made it. Surprised he noticed how well it was fitting his body and was not hindering his movements. He stretched his arms into all directions; maybe this would actually be helpful in a combat. Luckily the panties were no big challenge, but it was still more than strange to put them on, after all, down there was nothing, nothing at all!

Finally he reached out for the other stuff, apparently a blue T-shirt with some weird details, but he could not find the trousers? Confused he picked up the shirt, letting it go immediately, breathing heavily. That had to be a joke. That woman could not be serious!

No, he would rather run around in naked than wearing that thing.

Suddenly someone knocked at the door.

"Loreen, honey. Can I come in?" The housekeeper asked while already coming inside.

"I just wanted to get the laundry. Oh my, this underwear fits you remarkably nice. I am really glad it suits you so well. Uh what happened with the dresser? Oh do not mind, more importantly how do you like your dress?"

He opened his mouth to explain her in every single detail, that he would never war that rag and that his name was not Loreen, but she already rushed into the bathroom, still talking his head off.

"I was not sure, if you would like it, but it was the only clothe your size I could find at home. I mean, you are so tiny; my girls had your measurements when they were little kids. But no worries, I already asked my daughter to lend you some of her children's clothes."

She was already back and tidied up the chaos he caused at the dresser, without asking about it.

"It will not be a problem, I assume, because they are all grown up already. Honey, you need my help putting it on?"

She pulled the nail file out of the wall and fetched the last towel from the ground.

"No, I really…"

"Oh fine, just turn around."
"No, please wait a sec…"

"Keep still for a second, please. Good, now just the zipper. Perfect!"

Aimless he stumbled away, griping after the desk to keep him from falling.

"What about this?!" He asked almost in panic, showing down the dress he was now wearing. But she smiled lovingly. What did she just do to him?!

"It looks great on you, Loreen."

A sudden tear ran down her cheek, throwing him off guard. What was happening here? Just a second ago she was smiling and now her lips were shaking dangerously.

"But, but Mrs. Bo…"

"I already told you to call me Kanan, otherwise I feel so old!" She interrupted him again and wiped the tear away.

"I am sorry, my child. It is just… I am just so happy, you are here. All those last years this house was empty and the landlord grumpy, when he visited. But now you are here, a young, kind guest and he is smiling again. I am just so happy."

She hugged him tightly and he knew that he would not be able to free himself, even if he would try. He felt pity for this woman. He could feel her loneliness even though she usually hid it well under her friendly, happy shell. He knew this feeling, knew this pain. After some seconds he reluctantly lifted his own hands and padded her back a bit, not sure, how to react to her emotional break-down.

She on the other side suddenly reached out for his hair.

"My dear, your hair is still soaking wet. We should braid it up, my pretty girl."

Answering his mistrustful look she just smiled, wiping her tears away.

"You cannot braid, can you?"

He shook his head. He needed to act soon, if he did not want to be unmanned by this woman.

"Don't worry about that, I want to cut…"

"Very well," she said not even listening to him, letting go of his shoulders and gathering up all the laundry to her feet.

"Unfortunately I could not find any shoes your size, but at least some house-sandals. Come with me downstairs and then we will take care of your beautiful hair, before eating something. Does this not sound like a good plan?"

With a sarcastic smile he allowed her to grab his wrist and followed her out of the room. It was useless to go against her words; she was not listening either way. His small feet had problems to keep up with her long steps, making him stumble over and over, but she was filled with energy and did not notice it at all, pulling him down the stairs. At the corridor she parted from him to put the laundry away, only to come back seconds later, holding a pair of simple sandals. The she grabbed his arm again, pulling him into a preciously furnished living room, looking more like a library. Soft light warmed the room, even though the fire place itself was cold. The housekeeper pushed him down at a dark, grand couch, before helping him to put on those sandals, smiling brightly. Her fast switching of emotions was difficult for him to understand. He missed the silence of the shower.

"So, if I may ask you mademoiselle," she said smiling and pointing him to glide down to the ground. Still confused he followed her demand. By now he really wondered if he was not caught in the weirdest dream ever. The elderly lady sat down behind him.

"Tell me, if it hurts," she whispered softly, before brushing his hair.

It was an oddly calm moment.

After some time she started talking again. Telling him how to wash his hair correctly, because there was still some rest of shampoo left. She asked him about his favorite colors and what kind of clothes he liked. When he answered her, that he needed something for combat, she laughed full-heartedly.

She told him about the village and her three children, as well as about the better times of the family Dracule. Then she changed the topic again to cooking and asked him other unimportant stuff. He answered politely and decided not to complain, while she brushed his hair.

At some point he was stupid enough to ask her about cutting this useless mane. Next to a soft poke in between his shoulder blades with the hairbrush, which actually did hurt him sadly, he received huge scolding about how thousand of women would kill for that hair. He did not reply to that, while she continued to rant and rave. Of course he did not care, that hair would be cut, no matter if that woman liked it or not. Once again he thought about telling her the truth. It would be fun to see her face, besides he really did not like acting as her sweet, little doll. But suddenly she changed the subject.

"It has been such a long time, I braided someone's hair. I believe the last time was with Sharak. She was such a beautiful girl."

She had a lump in her throat; he could hear it, while she kept picking one strand of hair or another.

"Sharak?" He asked without thinking.

"Oh, she was the oldest child of this household. But that was long time ago. She was really a bright young lady. You remind me of her."
"Even though you barely know me," he added soft in a cheeky way. But once again she was only laughing.

In this moment he could hear the creak of a door, before it was closed again.

"Kanan, where are you? I may have to ask… Oh." The landlord himself stood in the doorframe, looking down to the women.

"Am I disturbing?"