Hey everybody,
without any more words, here it comes, have fun ;-)
Chapter 5 - Awakening
-Zoro-
Slowly he woke up.
His whole body was almost screaming in pain, as if he were burning from the inside. Everything around him seemed blurry and dull.
What had happened? Where was he?
Clumsily he crouched up on all fours and looked around slowly.
He felt deaf and empty, his head was heavy, his body trembled uncontrollably.
He cowered on a soft carpet between flashy furniture. It was dark, only a faint, cold shimmer bathed the room in an icy blue light.
Slowly he was able to orientate himself again, realized where he was and why.
He tried to stand up, but his body did not want to obey his command. His hands trembled and he could barely move. Then he stared at his hands, stared at those hands, which seemed like they were meant for fighting.
"What...?" His voice was hoarse and broke, scratching slightly.
He grabbed his neck and looked down at his body.
Torn clothes hung on him as if they had burst from the inside. Burst seams and button strips; zippers that had failed their service. Scraps of cloth tried to cover his body but failed miserably.
He let his hand slid slowly down to his collarbone and stayed there for a second, then brushed across his chest down to his hip, feeling the familiar sensitive yet rough line that stood out irregularly from the rest of the smooth skin.
Harshly he exhaled and grabbed his still pounding head. The short, disobedient hair under his fingers could hardly be tamed.
He couldn't hinder a quiet laughter.
"I've done it," he whispered to the quiet room, closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying the pain before persuading himself to get up.
His body was unusually heavy, much heavier than expected and somehow everything was moving awkwardly, his hands and feet were clumsy, and his muscles lacked the necessary fine-tuning.
Again, he laughed softly, he had not imagined it to feel like this.
His body was still burning, and he felt tired, exhausted. He would like to lie back down straight right away and just keep sleeping.
He noted the mirror, no, more precisely he noted his reflection. Some of the scraps had slipped to the ground and now he was standing there almost naked. The strange cold, bluish light, that gave the room an icy glow, made him look ghostly, almost as if he were frozen, although he felt as hot as if his body was burning.
Even his eyes glowed unusually bluish.
He knew where he was and why he was there, but why had he been lying on the floor in the middle of the night? What had happened? What had happened to him?
Slowly he looked around, tried to find clues that explained to him what had happened, and eventually he found them.
Behind the low table in front of which he had been lying, he found the source of the blue light. There was a screen. It flickered in a faint blue, but deep cracks had shattered the glass and no image was displayed.
For a moment he looked only at the blue flickering, confused and surprised, but then the memories crept out of the depths of his mind and horror filled him.
He struggled to breathe, and he felt his legs threaten to give in. He stumbled a few steps backwards and had to cling to an armchair to avoid collapsing. His heart raced and panic filled him as he fought for air.
He looked around frantically, trying to identify something that told him that he had imagined it all, but he knew that wasn't the case. No, it really had happened, it really had happened, and he had been forced to watch it all helpless, unable to do anything.
If he had gone along with them. If he hadn't been so selfish. If he had only...
An indefinable sound crept out of his throat.
A voice in his head, that didn't sound like him, tried to reason him that he should calm down, that he needed a cool head and was not allowed to overreact.
But he stubbornly ignored that voice and looked around. On the contrary, he had to act, act immediately. Then he noted the open wall door, leading into the other room, showing his luggage.
With awkward steps he wanted rushed over, but his heavy feet hardly wanted to leave the ground and over and over he lost his balance.
His body screamed that he was too exhausted, that he needed rest. But how should he find peace now? How should he be able to rest now?
He stumbled through the door and found himself in the other room.
A familiar, cool, wooden scent filled his nose, but it filled him not with the usual serenity, but only with anger, with anger and despair.
Shaking fingers opened a cupboard case and with uncoordinated movements he pulled out some clothes.
Both shirt and trousers were too big for him, but he didn't care. He wasn't even looking for shoes, knowing none would fit, but found a strange belt with straps, which he took, as it fitted his need perfectly.
He then trampled over to a large suitcase.
Once again, he was annoyed by his fingers, which took eternities to open the locks, but eventually he was able to lift the lid up.
Underneath he found his swords, all tenderly and carefully stowed away.
Cautiously he took each of them and attached them to his belt.
When he wanted to reach for the fourth, a quiet wave of anger met him, and he remembered that this sword could not be led among others.
"One day I will own you too," he muttered, straightening up.
Still it was difficult for him to breathe when he thought about what had happened, but so slowly he could at least think again. His body was still exhausted, but the pain slowly subsided.
He was about to get going when he noticed something in the suitcase. He hesitated for a moment, but then he reached for the little white transponder snail and the tiny scrap of paper, putting both in his pockets.
He briefly looked around. He couldn't leave a message, nothing that could blow his cover or put Mihawk in danger, so he left the room.
Zoro had no idea where to go or what exactly he was planning, but he hadn't been able to stay in that room for a second. He had to act. He had to find him, Bartholomew's Kuma. Had to find him and find out exactly what he had done. Only then he would be able to find out if his friends were still alive.
He didn't meet anyone, but that didn't surprise him. After all, this area was reserved for the lawless with immunity.
But wouldn't Kuma, as one of the Shichibukai, have to be here somewhere?
"Roronoa Zoro?"
As if he had conjured him up!
Zoro swirled around, he would always recognize this voice.
"Bartholomew's Kuma," he growled breathless as the improbable came true.
The strangely built giant had just walked through a high archway and looked down at him, in one hand his damn Bible.
"How can it be that you are still alive?" The Shichibukai asked.
Only the moonlight was their witness, but Zoro drew his sword.
"I'm asking the questions here!" His voice was still rough and scratchy, but he took it as a blessing in disguise that he'd been able to find the Shichicukai within a few minutes. He had not expected to find Kuma that quickly and he wasn't sure if it was luck or just bad luck. "What did you do to my crew?"
For a moment, the Shichibukai just looked at him.
"Start talking!" Zoro demanded, drawing a second sword.
"So, you actually survived? Once again. It seems that death is no friend of yours."
"Not here to talk about death! What did you do to my friends?!"
He knew a fight was pointless. His body was so exhausted that he could barely walk and although Kuma wasn't the strongest of all Shichibukai, Zoro could still remember their last confrontation well enough. Back then on Thriller Bark.
"What are you doing in the Holy Land? Don't you realize that this is your death sentence the moment you are discovered?"
The words of the other, who obviously did not want to fight, confused him. Why would he worry if this here was Zoro's death?
But he did not let himself be fooled by this.
"You said it already: death is not my friend. So, for the last time, what did you do to my friends?!"
"I saved them."
"What?!"
"Tell me, Roronoa Zoro, if you were to go on a trip, where would you like to go?"
"What?!"
The other one suddenly stood right in front of him and Zoro knew he couldn't do anything.
"Don't worry, Roronoa Zoro, I'm not going to betray you." And then the other slammed his huge hand down on him.
He couldn't dodge. It was too late.
-Mihawk-
He stretched while yawning loudly.
Rarely he had attended a session as long-lasting, long-lasting and slow-moving, as this one. Why did he have to be involved with something like this?
Oh yes, precisely because he was a Shichibukai and in a way had no choice.
Tired, he rubbed his eyes and looked out the window. The rising sun greeted him.
He had spent almost twenty hours in this room with way too many Marines for his taste. At least, he knew now exactly what was going on and no longer had to rely on his own speculations, even though they had been very accurate.
Puma D. Ace, an execution, Whitebeard.
He sighed. Why did he always have to be right?
It would all get pretty annoying. And exhausting. And boring.
He shrugged his shoulders. Not that he really cared. He would fight, maybe fight one or another half-interesting fight and then turn his back to this stage. He did not care about Whitebeard and his disagreements with World Government. All he was interested in was to leave the walls of Mary Joa behind as quickly as possible and to continue training Roronoa.
A quiet grin darkened his features as he walked down the empty corridors. He would briefly check if his little frog was already awake before he would get some rest himself.
But then he stopped.
It was frightening how important this child had become to him and how proud it made him that he was the only one to whom Roronoa had entrusted his secret. Not even his own crew had been initiated by him.
Still, at some point, Roronoa would return to his crew, that was undeniable and at some point, he would leave Mihawk behind. At some point, he would have to let go of his little frog.
But he still had at least a month, a month, in which he had Roronoa all by himself.
He continued walking with a sigh. He would not have thought that he would ever become so dependent on anyone else again. Pretty pathetic for someone like him. Pretty sad, if he was honest, almost pathetic.
What was this farce for? Why did you want me to interrupt you? It makes you look weak.
He laughed softly; this spectacle was only partly a farce. Too often he let himself be interrupted by the other, far too often he reflected on his own opinion according to the words of the younger. Although the youngster liked to give the impression of being a simple fool, Mihawk knew perfectly well that he was not, that Roronoa was much more, Mihawk's weakness for example.
If the world knew that; knew that the great Hawk Eyes, the best swordsman in the world and one of the dreaded Shichibukai was influenced by some little rookie, a rookie believed dead… he shook his head.
What had this boy done to him?
But he was not allowed to be influenced or even worse controlled by this.
Yes, the longer he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded to keep the younger one at distance. That would be good for both of them, and besides, his little frog always complained that he had become too soft.
His little frog. His little frog.
Sighing, he ruffled through his hair, destroying his neatly arranged hairstyle.
Roronoa was right.
They had long since ceased to be simply teacher and student, for a long time they had already been more than only rivals and, as Roronoa expected, this could become problematic for them both.
When did they have become friends?
Perhaps Mihawk really should show a little more detachment, bring a little more distance between them and return to this old teacher-student relationship.
Exactly, that was reasonable, that was wise and appropriate.
Appropriate for someone like him.
So, he would just check swiftly on Roronoa and then... No, if he wanted to deal with this properly, he should not check on the other one, not even swiftly. It was enough if he informed the other about his decision and planned with him the upcoming days after he had taken a nap.
Exactly, a serious teacher would act in the same way.
He nodded to himself, confirmed himself. He would now get his deserved sleep and do exactly what the rational-thinking part of his mind advised him to do.
He yawned again and then opened the door to his rooms.
Intruder!
Something was wrong, someone had been here. Carefully he stepped in.
But Yuro behind his back, was only quietly humming, no sign of danger.
There was no one there, but that only worried him more.
In the light of the morning sun, he closed the door behind him and regarded the room.
The first thing that caught his eye was his wardrobe trunk, which had been neatly closed but now was standing wide open, a few garments had been ripped out and lay carelessly on the floor. However, Kanan had packed his clothes and so he could hardly tell if anything was missing.
Next, he noticed that the locks of Roronoa's suitcase were open. The suitcase in which he had kept his student's swords and books.
Otherwise, the room was undisturbed, except for a single overturned chair, halfway between the open wall door to the adjoining room and the luggage.
With calm but still vigilant movements, he rushed over to the suitcase and lifted up the lid. His heart beat faster.
An angry Josei greeted him, but the other swords were gone, as well as the little white transponder snail.
He had to stay calm.
Slowly, he lowered the lid and looked around, trying to grasp what had happened.
Then he walked through the room, through the open wall door and into the other apartment.
Here, the soft sunlight was disturbed by a slight flickering. He followed the strange light until he found the cause. The screen to receive the internal Marine's broadcast had fallen to the ground, the glass shattered, but it still flickered weakly.
Several chairs and other furniture in this room had been knocked over and he could find scraps of a blue dress, as well as few strands of long green hair. Mihawk bent down and picked up a single hair. He found no blood, but his chest felt cruelly tight. Once again, he skimmed the room.
A long-forgotten feeling grew within him. He had a hard time breathing. Slowly he ruffled through his hair, covering his face.
He had to keep calm, he had to stay completely calm.
This was not the first time Roronoa had gone missing. But the last time, the brat had been simply running around on Sasaki and not in the stronghold of the World Government.
His heart was racing, but he tried to keep a cool head, unwanted emotions would not help him now.
He quickly ripped the cross chain from his neck and pulled out the small weapon. With trembling fingers, he opened the secret clasp on the base of the blade and shook out a small, white, folded piece of paper.
He exhaled deeply. The paper still looked exactly the same as two days ago, when he had hidden it in his weapon. It was not unnaturally crumpled, nor was it burning silently. Whatever had happened to Roronoa, at least he was fine.
Relief spread through him, but it did not last long. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny white transponder snail.
As he pressed the button, the little snail yawned before opening its eyes. Its quiet beeping told him that a connection had been made.
For a long time, he stood in the middle of the room and looked at the little snail that kept beeping. Minutes seemed to pass, but nothing happened.
Roronoa apparently was alive, but for whatever reason he was not able to pick up.
Slowly the fear crawled back into his limbs, but Mihawk tried to suppress it, trying to remain master of the situation.
He hung up and the little snail closed its eyes to continue to sleep.
For a moment, he looked at the room again, grasping and reconstructing what had happened, thought about what would be the best thing for him to do.
Quickly he went back to his room, pulled open a drawer of his trunk and took out a black transponder snail with dark brown lines.
The well-known but rarely used number was entered within a split second.
After a few breaths, somebody picked up.
"Bosatsu here, good morning, you have reached the..."
"Kanan," he interrupted the usual greeting; even his voice betrayed him.
"Your Lordship?" Her surprise was audible.
"Kanan, I need your help. Do not ask any questions and act as discreetly as possible." Now his voice finally sounded as it should.
The housekeeper quietly agreed and then he talked.
After a few minutes, he ended the conversation and put the snail away.
Then he went over to the transponder snail, which was provided by the World Government. It took only a few seconds when he picked up the receiver.
"Good morning, Lord Dracule. How can I be at your assistance?"
For a moment he remained silent, reconsidered his decision, but not faltering at all. He had to act, he had to keep up this farce until the last act. He had to stay calm.
"I would like to inform you that my companion, Lady Loreen, is not doing well."
"Oh, my apologies. Shall I send a doctor?"
"No, please understand, this must be treated discreetly. The doctor of the Dracule estate has already been notified. I ask you to grant him safe access to the underground port. He should arrive within a few hours with a merchant ship."
The official hesitated: "Well, basically we can only allow ships of the World Government or the Marine to dock. Is it not possible to have Lady Loreen examined by one of our doctors?"
"That would probably be unfavorable. My companion is extremely reserved in terms of privacy and health, so I would prefer to avoid strangers, I hope you can understand."
"Well... Well, I will do my best to organize your doctor's arrival. Is there anything else I can do?"
"Thank you, I appreciate your help. Please ensure that the content of this conversation and the reason for this exception stay between the both of us."
Again, the soldier hesitated.
"Your Lordship?" He asked. "Is Lady Loreen seriously ill?"
One... Two... He deliberately waited long enough before reacting.
"Please handle this information privately. There are things that should not be made public."
He hung up.
Such schemes were his thing. He had grown up in the flimsy system of politics and was able to handle it very well. It was easy to disguise Lady Loreen's disappearance.
Once again, he tried the small, white transponder snail. Again, it yawned and again its call for its twin went unanswered.
With a sigh, he walked over to his youngster's room and cleared most of the traces. For a moment, he looked at the still faintly flickering screen before turning it off.
He quickly exchanged the broken screen with the unharmed one from his own room, also exchanged the small numbered sticky notes that stuck on the back, and even collected the fine shards, only to distribute them back in his room.
Then he elegantly knocked over the screen with one well-placed kick.
So far so good.
A Shichibukai who destroyed something in his room, nothing special, not even worth talking about, but it probably would not fit the fine Lady Loreen.
He stepped back to his belongings and pulled out another transponder snail. A large, white one, one that could not be intercepted. He quickly typed in the familiar numbers.
"Cho," it came calmly from the other side.
Mihawk hesitated for a moment, feeling his lips trembling.
"Hello?" His childhood friend asked.
"Jirou," he muttered.
"Mihawk? Is it you, Hawky?"
"Of course, it is me," he replied annoyed, regaining his rationality. "Who else should it be?"
The Rear Admiral laughed softly. "Bad mood as ever," he snickered. "So? What's up, almighty Shichibukai?"
"Are you mocking me?"
For a moment thing started to feel normal again.
"Jiroushin, were there any special incidents broadcasted by the Marine-intern channel yesterday?"
His interlocutor yawned. "Yes, of course. Haven't you heart anything about it? It's even written all over the newspapers."
Mihawk sighed. "I haven't received a newspaper yet and I've been in a meeting since yesterday until this morning. So, what happened?"
"You really seem to have a sixth sense for everything connected to the straw hats, right?"
"Excuse me?" And there was this uneasy feeling again. What had happened to the straw hats?
"Yes, a few rookies - and, of course, your precious straw hats - have attacked a few World Aristocrats. Then some of our troops and Admiral Kizaru were mobilized."
This, of course, explained why there had been so much movement during the meeting. Unusual many officers had left and later returned, before leaving again. However, he had not been surprised about Admiral Kizaru's absence, after all, some high-ranking members had been missing, as they had already been called to the Marine Ford to make some arrangements there.
"That means the straw hats have fought against Kizaru? Was it a live broadcast?"
The other agreed: "Yes, there was a broadcast, but actually they fought against the Pacifista and Sentoumaru first. Kizaru apparently joined later, together with the Shichibukai Bartholomew Kuma."
Mihawk stared at the snail. "Why so much effort for a few rookies? Sentoumaru should also be able to deal with them on his own. Especially when he takes these tin cans along, which you should actually not talk about with an outsider."
"Wait what? Yes, you're right, but how do you even know about the Pacifistas?"
"Oh please, Jirou, you know me. But let us get back to the real issue."
The Rear Admiral sighed: "Yes, there is no more to add. It apparently went all haywire. I don't have a lot of information; I wasn't there and it's not my case."
"So, what actually happened, Jiroushin. What about the straw hats?" An uneasy feeling grumbled in his stomach area.
"Well, you can imagine what happened. They were defeated."
"How?"
Why were his hands shaking? Jirou was right, of course, something like this had to be expected with those opponents.
"Mhm. Was clear that they had no chance against two such high-ranking officials and then Kuma also appeared and... Well, you know his powers – probably even better than I do, when I think about it – he made one straw hat after another disappear. They're all gone. Some of them were probably seriously injured, I don't think they all survived."
Slowly he sank to one of the many armchairs.
"And... and that was broadcasted live?"
"Yeah, was pretty good for the ego of the Marines, that everyone saw the straw hats being wiped out. After all, they have caused us so much trouble many times, only the day before yesterday on Sarue again. By the way, were you somehow involved with what happened there?"
And Roronoa had watched it all. Roronoa had watched his friends, one after the other, be defeated. Mihawk did not know if the other knew about Kuma's abilities, after all, the two already had the pleasure of meeting each other. Either way, he could easily imagine what had happened.
Slowly he buried his face in his free hand, still holding the small piece of paper.
He was not there for a few hours and then something like that happened.
"Hawky?"
"Hmm?"
His friend's voice sounded anxious.
"Listen, I know that the straw hats meant something to you. You have followed their deeds at every turn. But that's the way it is, now. They are pirates and have done a damn lot of mischief, it severs them right."
He had to do something, but where could Roronoa be? Where could this useless brat have disappeared to?
Mihawk had to leave immediately and look for him. If he were to follow the Vivre Card, he would sooner or later find the other, no matter where he was. He was shaking, he had to hurry, he could not waste any more time.
"I'm sorry, Hawky. I didn't realize they were so important to you."
"Oh, I don't care about these straw hats!" He growled and could barely breathe.
"What's going on?"
Like that one long gone day, an incredible feeling of fear rose within him, taking his breath away. He never thought he would have to feel so helpless again.
"Hawky?"
"Jirou, I..."
"It's about Loreen, isn't it?"
Shocked, he stared at the snail. Was it that obvious?
"Yes," he replied.
"Is everything okay?" His childhood friend asked.
For a moment he remained silent, thinking seriously about this question.
"No," he whispered, "no, nothing is okay."
He was scared and there was no worse feeling than fearing for a person that was important to him.
Pathetic! Fear for a child, who would one day defeat him.
"Oh," his counterpart muttered. "Did something happen? Isn't she doing well?"
He hesitated, but then he gave in.
"No, not at all."
How should Roronoa be well? Two days ago, he had faced his crew, had decided to not return, the reasons for this were now irrelevant. For yesterday he had not been with them, had watched helplessly while his friends had been defeated.
"Jirou?"
"Hmm?"
"I think I am about to do something pretty stupid, something almost insane."
What had this boy done to him? He barely recognized himself.
"Okay," muttered the other, "then let me just ask you a question. Would Loreen approve if you did it because of her?"
He stared at his palm, the little paper still lying in it, crawling away from him very quietly. Roronoa would laugh at him. Roronoa would say that even without Mihawk, he would be fine. And Roronoa would say that it would be a shame that he, Hawk Eyes, would be so influenced by a child.
A hesitant smile slid on his lips.
"Thank you, Jirou," he whispered.
"No problem. Can I help you in any way?"
He sighed and leaned back.
"You could row me for my stupidity. That is not how a Dracule should behave. Losing my nerves about such small things is absolutely foolish. You could row me for even considering such stupidity, that I might even think about it for a moment. Such a disgrace, how disappointing."
The Rear Admiral laughed softly.
"Stop worrying, Hawky. Loreen is much tougher than she looks. I think she'll be better soon."
"I should not worry about some student; you should tell me that! Could you for once be the grownup in our relationship and tell me that such a behavior is simply not appropriate for a man of my qualities."
Again, the other laughed quietly.
Unexpectedly it knocked on the room door and a young man came in with a breakfast tray and the morning newspaper, although it was already noon.
Sighing, Mihawk got up, ended the phone call without saying goodbye, and brushed his hair back.
His little private break was over, Mihawk had left the stage, now Hawk Eyes came on again. Hawk Eyes, rationality and calmness in person.
