Here we go again!

I'm telling you, those weeks are just rushing by and I feel like I forgot something really important to do... but I have no idea what it was (I know I went to work today, I fed the dog, I answered that mail of my friend, and right now I'm uploading the chapter like every friday... but I feel like I forgot something...)

Well, whatever, have fun with this new little chapter and thank you guys for all your kind words^^


Chapter 22 - Disturbance

-Zoro-

He had almost forgotten that Eizen had ever been there.

After being unconscious for several days and then sleeping through almost another one and a half, he had woken up this morning and finally remembered. Now his confused dreams finally made sense, now he knew what had happened after the G-6, why he was still alive and why he had landed on Sasaki of all places. He had never believed in things like calling and destiny, but now he could no longer deny that supernatural things could exist, he was the best proof, after all, he was a wanderer, whatever the hell that meant.

But Zoro didn't really bother thinking about that stuff, after all, he had to focus on training.

Since that day he had recalled what had happened he had also been able to sleep again, had finally it seemed that he was also regaining his strength and energy. He hadn't felt that good for a long time, he felt healthy again, like himself again. Slowly he felt like Roronoa Zoro again. He also became better at controlling his transformations, although he was very slow at extending the time in which he could hold onto his own body. Day in and day out he had been busy with his training, his memories, and the chess duels against the Shichibukai, so that he had almost forgotten what was hidden at the ground of his closet

He had almost believed that this meeting, this contract with Eizen, had been nothing more than a terrible nightmare.

But he knew that wasn't true. Late in the evening, he sometimes pulled out the white folder just to remind himself that it had not been just a simple nightmare. There was nothing conspicuous in the contract, he could show it to Mihawk and he would not be able to find anything suspicious.

But these other papers, explaining in detail where almost every single person he had ever met more closely was currently and how they could die; these pages were a constant reminder that he was trapped. Chopper, Usopp, and Robin had not been given a current location. This meant that even Eizen did not know everything.

Just as he did not know that Mihawk knew Zoro's true identity.

Of course, the easiest thing would have been to tell Mihawk the truth, to tell him that Eizen had blackmailed him, had threatened him, had seen through him. Besides, it was also a challenge to hide things from the other, it really would be the easier choice to just let him in.

But Zoro had noticed something else, Eizen did not take Mihawk seriously. Although he knew that Zoro was also a pirate, the politician continued to treat him with respect – or at least wasn't consistently mocking him like Mihaw - had alleged him as a counterpart, called him a fellow player. Mihawk, on the other hand, he regarded only as a pawn, as an unimportant accessory. Eizen despised Mihawk, and somehow Zoro wanted to take advantage of that.

He had to take advantage of Eizen underestimating Mihawk, but that also meant that the Shichibukai could not know the truth, because then he would probably spill the beans. When he met Eizen, Mihawk had shown himself to be uncontrolled, almost enraged.

Zoro had to keep him in the dark, he wouldn't risk the other's title just to avoid having to face Eizen alone. He would defeat the bastard of a politician alone, if only because he had dared to threaten his friends.

At least, the brief visit to Sasaki and the days that followed had ensured that Mihawk had worried about other things. Zoro's dreams and the legend of Hakuryuu had distracted the elder from the real problems, not once had they talked about the snobby politician and Zoro didn't mind.

Eizen's visit had happen more than a month ago and slowly Zoro became restless. However, this had very little to do with the politician; he had been training on Kuraigana for more than two months now and yet he had barely achieved anything, he was still far too weak.

"Concentrate, Roronoa. Stop daydreaming, what is on your mind today?"

"Nothing," he growled, ruffling through his hair.

"Then pull yourself together, without focus you won't master the Kenbunshoku Haki." The Shichibukai sounded irritated.

"Stop nagging, I know that myself!"

The elders groaned angrily. "There is no need for snarky remarks. If you are that absentminded, we should stop."

"No," he murmured, and went back into position, "no breaks."

Now Mihawk almost sighed disappointed. "That was not a suggestion, Roronoa. With your mood today, you will not make any progress either way."

"What?"

The older man rubbed his neck.

"It is always the same with you. If you are annoyed about anything, you lose focus, but you still want to keep training like a madman. But in these very situations, training with you is wasted time."

Angry, Zoro stared at the other.

"What are you talking about? Let's just keep going, okay?"

"No, we won't do that." The older man turned around. "No discussion. We are leaving now."

"But..."

"Roronoa!"

"Don't you understand? It's been more than two months and I still haven't mastered the Kenbunshoku Haki. I don't have time to take breaks."

Mihawk sighed again and rubbed his nose for a moment. "So, we will have this discussion. Roronoa, I told you that six months will be far from enough. We are exactly within my schedule, but every now and then you have to take some rest. In training, structured breaks are important."

He hated it when the other sounded so rational and logical.

"I know you are ambitious, but do not tense up that much. Everyone has a bad day, that is normal and sometimes it is better to let the training rest on such a day before you may even hurt yourself." The elder looked at him. "You know you won't change my mind. We can resume training tomorrow. Calling it a day earlier once in a while will not hinder your development, probably on the contrary."

Angry Zoro brushed through his hair, individual strands fell in his face, still wet from the long-gone rain.

"Roronoa, you know I am right, otherwise you would oppose me. The sun is already setting. If you want to argue, for all I care, we can do that. But let us do it inside with a glass of wine, like civilized people and not like a bunch of barbarians between the rubble of gone kingdoms."

Shaking his head, Zoro laughed coldly.

"We're pirates, damn it, stop sounding like one of these snobs."

"In case you have not noticed yet, Roronoa, I may be a pirate, but that does not sum up my entire personality. You should understand this best."

For a moment, they stared hard at each other, neither willing to give in. Then a nasty smile crossed Mihawk's face.

"What?" Zoro growled, but the elder just shook his head, that mean grin still on his thin lips. "Come on, spit it out!"

Did the elder make fun of him?

"I was just wondering if you are letting your hair grow deliberately. How long do you think it will take to get Loreen's hairstyle?"

"Shut up!"

Angry, he hurried around, grabbed his swords, and rushed towards the castle.

Quietly laughing, the elder followed him. He was able to keep up with him effortlessly.

"If you want, I could cut your hair, or you ask the ghost girl for a few bobby pins."

Zoro did not respond. He wouldn't let that happen, because just adding a beard and then he could as well act as Mihawk's little brother. Nami or the cook had always been responsible for the crew. Once every few weeks, one of them had pulled him on a chair and fiddled with some scissors. Zoro had always let them do it, had never thought much about it.

Quietly sighing he climbed the stairs up to the castle; maybe he should ask Perona to cut his hair, because the other was right, slowly it became annoying.

But Perona had vanished somewhere within in the depths of the castle, even when Zoro came into the large fireplace room after the necessary shower, he found only the Shichibukai. As often, he sat in his expansive armchair and read the newspaper. There was a book on his armrest.

It was one of the books about Alciel's and Hakuryuu's teachings, but it was not the one Zoro had translated.

The elder did not react when he got in.

"So, you just made me stop training so that I would translate those books for you?" Zoro was still angry at the other. He hated when the other decided out of one of his whims to stop practice. Even less he could tolerate when the other patronized him or subtly tried to manipulate him. As if he were falling for that.

"Tze," was all the other replied and flipped page, still without even glancing at Zoro.

"Stop ignoring me!" He demanded, slapping away the other's newspaper.

Now Mihawk looked directly at him.

"You are quite ill-tempered today, Roronoa. It was the right decision to stop training. As uncontrolled as you are today, you won't master the Kenbunshoku Haki." Angry, Zoro wanted to answer, but the other continued to speaking: "To be honest, I have difficulty understanding why you are in such a bad mood today, so I thought you might want to read a book to calm yourself down."

Unimpressed, he stared back. Should that somehow appease him?

"Of course, you could just explain to me why you get so easily irritated today."

"I'm not irritated," he replied, reaching for the little book.

"Of course not." The elder bent after the newspaper and continued his activity.

Indecisive, Zoro stared at the other. He knew that Mihawk was right, could feel it clearly, this inner restlessness, this feeling that he would fail. He had to get stronger, so much stronger, but somehow, he seemed to fail.

But that was just one of his problems, just one of those things that hovered over him like a dark shadow. Just like Eizen, although not present, although not the subject of any conversation, Zoro felt as if the politician was always looking over his shoulder.

And then there was his own body, which again and again started to feel unpleasant, even to hurt, until Zoro gave in, until Zoro turned back into Loreen, the body he would never be able to abandon. At least, he knew now what had happened. At least, he now knew that he had actually died, but had decided in the afterlife to live on, to continue fighting, even if that meant being trapped in a weak body. He himself had made this decision but had not been aware of the consequences.

All he had seen at that time had been his friends and his dream, none of which he had wanted to give up, but now the words that this strange figure had told him were haunting him. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to worry about things he didn't understand anyway. Normally he wouldn't be impressed by something like that. But this time it was different; it was about something bigger and he didn't know if he wanted to have anything to do with it.

Slowly, he started to see why the other reborns wanted to avoid outsiders finding out about them. He himself had avoided telling Mihawk the truth. How could he explain to the other that after his death he had been faced with a choice by an unearthly being without sounding completely insane?

He remembered that this creature had called him a traveler. He recalled how it had revealed him three possibilities, and he had decided to return to his old life, to be reborn, in Loreen's body.

He also recalled that this being had wanted to send him to a certain place or person. Either so that Zoro himself would learn what he had forgotten, or so that he would change the fate of that other person. Now he looked at the elder and wondered why he had ended up on Sasaki.

It would have been a lie to say that Mihawk had not changed him - and not only in terms of sword fighting - but it was also true that the Shichibukai had changed.

Shaking his head, Zoro turned away and sat down on a sofa, the little book in his hand.

He shouldn't think about things like that. It wouldn't help him at all to philosophize about questions he would not find an answer to. Everything would come as it may and he would take his fate into his own hands, regardless of what any fantasy had told him.

In the end, he couldn't even be sure that all of this had actually happened. In doubt, it had been nothing more than some crazy dream and then he knew as much as before, namely nothing at all.

So how could he explain to Mihawk what irritated him without being completely ridiculed?

Again, he shook his head and opened the book. His own thoughts would not take him any further, it was better to do something meaningful and even if he would not admit it, it had been a good idea of the elder to offer this book to him.

-Mihawk-

He watched the younger one closely. Could see how his mind worked behind these serious eyes, could see how the other one frowned, how his lips became a thin line.

Roronoa obviously processed something and this process was already going on for days. Most of the time, Roronoa pushed whatever occupied him into the depths of his subconscious to concentrate mainly on training, but he did not always succeed.

Just like today. Already at breakfast he had been absentminded, had stared into the empty room, had repeatedly been daydreaming for several minutes, only to suddenly shake his head and participate in life again.

Mihawk did not know for sure what was going on with the other, but he suspected that it was about the dreams that had plagued Roronoa until roughly a month ago. Probably it also had something to do with the reborns, as Roronoa called the people who, like him, had been given a second chance.

All these were things Roronoa did not want to talk about with him, being extremely stubborn.

Now Roronoa sat on his sofa and read the book Mihawk had put out for him. The younger one developed well, soon, very soon they would begin to train the Busoshoku Haki and it was difficult for Mihawk to suppress his anticipation. He was curious to see if the other was really as talented as he had touted in the little anecdote from his childhood.

But Roronoa was also stubborn, wanted to give his all at all costs every day, every moment, always bringing his body to the brink of his capability. It seemed as if the younger one still did not understand that this dull stubbornness would hinder rather than help.

But he also knew that Roronoa had impressed him with these character traits back then. The youngster had his own way, had developed his own fighting style and maybe it was also a mistake to train him like everyone else. Perhaps Roronoa's impatience was justified, perhaps he no longer had to treat Roronoa like a student, perhaps he really had to start to see him as the opponent his little frog wanted to be, despite of the risk.

With a silent sigh, he flipped another page, if he had been just as ambitious in his youth.

For a while, both swordsmen read in consensual silence. These quiet moments had become rare, these evenings where they enjoyed each other's company without the need for a conversation. Roronoa's tension was now nothing more than a reminder, hardly worth mentioning, not serious enough to depress the serenity of the evening.

But then it came as it had to come, and Perona came in. For Mihawk, she was always too loud. She opened the doors like at the beginning of a big performance, stomped across the floor with her clanking heels like an unenacted dance, spoke loudly enough to fill a fully booked theatre hall.

Her look was also loud, her cotton candy pink hair was a stark contrast to the bright red of her dress, along with the bright yellow teddy bear in her arm, which meanwhile wore a self-stitched blue and white beanie. The strong make-up and the penetrating, slightly too sweet scent of her perfume did the rest.

Mihawk was aware that he was thin-skinned concerning this woman and he knew exactly why. But even that did not change the fact that her simple presence was usually already enough to annoy him and he often wondered why he did not just kick her out.

He watched from the corner of his eye as she handed Roronoa a package that had been delivered for Lady Loreen during the late morning. Roronoa's dark voice could not have been more opposite to her high-pitched one. Although Perona was a few years older, Roronoa seemed to be much more mature and wiser. She, on the other hand, was as innocent and ignorant as a little brat.

Roronoa accepted the package without paying any attention to it while arguing with her about trivialities, but unlike Perona, Roronoa didn't seem to take their quarrels particularly seriously, his eyes sparkling almost mischievously and a nasty grin had crept onto his lips. Most of the time he seemed like that when he argued with the girl, always at the edge but never truly hurtful, never seriously mean, never really going in for dispute. Perona, on the other hand, always seemed to take each of their arguments very seriously, at least she always became very emotional and of course also very loud, but she too forgot the exchanged insults the moment the quarrel ended.

It amazed Mihawk constantly how those two treated each other, Roronoa behaved mostly quite differently than when he was talking with Mihawk, he seemed much younger, much more childish, and last but not least somehow more cheerful.

When Roronoa argued with him it was usually intense and significant. Rarely did they discuss small things, and even if they were both too proud to give in.

No, only once had he experienced Roronoa like this, at that time during their very first discussion. At that time, he had almost attacked Roronoa. Mihawk remembered well how the younger had mocked him because of his age, and he remembered how he had lost control for a brief moment because of something completely irrelevant.

He had attacked the youngster in his female form, clashing down the sofa Roronoa had been sitting on and had almost hit him. But Roronoa had just sat there, his arms folded, his eyes unimpressed, totally indifferent by him, the best swordsman in the world.

More than three months had passed since then, three months in which much had changed.

He sighed, such thoughts were nothing more than an unnecessary waste of time, would never be of use to him, and in the end it was unimportant how the relationship between Roronoa and this ghost girl was, who now turned around, a fire-red shimmer on her puffed cheeks, and stared directly at him. Mihawk could see clearly how she wanted to snap something at him, but did not dare to, and then just furiously stuck out her tongue before rushing out again.

Roronoa, on the other hand, had placed the package unnoticed next to him and now continued to read his book, the quiet smile and the amused look gone within a second.

"You got mail?" Mihawk asked the obvious question to allow a conversation. "From whom?"

"Eizen," replied Roronoa without even pausing to read.

"Excuse me?" Slowly, he let the newspaper sink and looked at the other. "And you see no necessity to look what he sent you?"

"It's not going to be a letter bomb," the younger murmured, flipping one page.

"Roronoa, that is not what this is about. You should..."

"I should what?" Now the other responded, much more threatening than expected. "I should train, I should get stronger, I should master the Kenbunshoku Haki. Instead, you patronize me and ordered me to take a break to read."

Surprised, Mihawk lacked words for a moment. He had thought that they had discussed this issue enough for today. Sighing, he put the newspaper away.

"I thought we talked about this. You have..."

"No," the younger one interrupted him, and again there was this stinging gaze, this suppressed rage, "you decided. You thought I was just wasting your time and you were too good for that."

"Then why are you still sitting here and not outside and continuing your training? If my opinion is that wrong, why do you follow my instructions?"

For a second, the other looked away.

"It was our deal," Roronoa muttered, much calmer. "I've promised to follow your decisions, but that doesn't mean I agree, not even talking about appreciating."

Once again, the younger one astonished him. He had almost forgotten how important it was for the other to keep his word.

Mihawk thoughtfully brushed over his beard.

"Roronoa. I have not finished today's unit to punish or to torment you. It is also in my interest that you reach your full potential as soon as possible. But you just have to realize that you as well have days when you are not fully focused and on those days the training is more frustrating than inspiring."

"So what?" Now Roronoa as well put his book away. "Do you think my opponent cares if I have a good day or not? Do you think I've never had frustrating days or weeks? That is part of it, but that is why I am not quitting. That's the reason I have to keep going, struggle through it. Maybe the day ends as a defeat, maybe the training was nothing more than a waste of time, but maybe the Berry drops, maybe I get one step further. But if you don't try, if you just go home to try it later, haven't you already given up?"

He took his time, examined the other extensively, letting Roronoa's words sink in, tried to understand the reasons for their disagreement. Eventually, he rested his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and placed his chin on his folded hands.

"Tell me Roronoa, what distracted you so much, today? Why were you unfocused?"

Roronoa withstood his gaze, his jaw tensing and relaxing before he finally replied: "During the last three months there have been a lot of distractions, the ball, Homura, Eizen, I don't care about all that. All I want is to train. I want to get better, stronger. I want to protect my crew and now we have the time. We are undisturbed here, just you and me, no Kanan with dance lessons, no invitations to any events and yet in the four weeks on Sasaki I learned more than during the last two months here, at least that's how it feels."

"So, you want to spend hours with fruitless training?"

"Of course, everything is better than counting the seconds until you think I can go on."

Slowly, he nodded. He had to realize that Roronoa was different. Unlike Mihawk, the younger could not find peace in a relaxed evening, at least not when he felt that he had not yet done enough.

"Well," he said, and stood up, "get your swords."

"What?" The other looked at him in surprise.

But Mihawk only folded his arms. "From now on, Roronoa, you are responsible for your physical well-being. I will no longer go easy on you; I will not take any consideration. I will keep demanding from you until you are either dead or request a break, understood?"

Roronoa nodded and got up.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Are you serious now?"

"Do I look like I am joking?"

For a second, the youngster stared at him, then grabbed book and package and rushed out of the room.

Mihawk was not totally certain this was the smartest way to go, but if Roronoa wanted to be more challenged, dissatisfied with his current progress, Mihawk had to adapt his methods. He would never be considerate of an opponent.

On the way to the entrance, he met Perona.

"What's going on?" She asked suspiciously. "You're going out again?"

"Roronoa and I will train a little bit more," he replied briefly.

"What?" She whispered horrified. "I just finished making dinner."

"Well, we will miss that today. I suspect we will also miss breakfast."

Her already large eyes widened a bit.

"While we are at it, did by chance any package arrive for me as well?"

She still seemed unsettled but nodded: "From your housekeeper. It's in the kitchen."

"Why is it there? Bring it here."

She looked at him again but turned around and disappeared through one of the doors. Almost simultaneously, another opened and Roronoa came in, his three swords on his hip.

Few minutes later, both of them plus Perona were back at the ruins, where they usually trained. Mihawk handed the younger man the little parcel that Kanan had sent him.

"I had them made especially for you. Shakuyak knows some good goldsmiths from the Sabaody Archipelago, so it is impossible to trace them back to me."

He watched as Roronoa unpacked the small box and finally opened it. His usual serious expression gave way to surprise when he looked at the content.

"Why did you do that?" The younger one muttered without looking at him.

"I thought it was obvious, I am a nostalgic person," he said jokingly.

Carefully, Roronoa lifted up one of the three golden earrings.

"As you can see, they are ear clips and not real earrings. I wanted to avoid that Loreen could be unmasked by three holes in the left ear. However, Shakuyak has assured me that you will not notice any difference while wearing them."

For a moment, the other looked at him, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"Why did you do this? I didn't ask you to."

Mihawk smiled slightly.

"Ah Roronoa. I did this not for you, but for me. I liked your earrings, signs of a childlike rebellion paired with the pride of the three-sword style. They belong to you just like this ridiculous haramaki or like your three swords."

Roronoa, however, only pursed his lips without saying anything but put on the earrings.

"And now you look like Roronoa Zoro again."

He could not deny the quiet feeling of pride. With the haramaki, the white shirt, the black cloth around the upper arm, and now with the earrings, the other looked exactly the same as when they had first faced each other, all those months ago, in the East Blue.

Roronoa put the box aside and looked at him unimpressed, folding his arms.

No, he did not look like he had back then, he had changed. It was not just the longer hair and the wider neck that testified to this. Roronoa was now a man.

"Well, what are we doing today?" Roronoa asked, and suddenly it was there, this grin, this roguish smirk. As if the earrings were the last missing piece of the puzzle.

"How long do you last before you become Loreen again?" Mihawk asked, sitting down on an overturned rock pillar.

Perona followed him and handed him a bottle of wine, apparently her attempt to placate him, he did not mind for once.

"Nah, at least until sunrise," the younger replied confidently. "Why?"

Mihawk received a filled wine glass from the ghost girl.

"Draw your sword, Roronoa."

The younger one followed his instructions.

"Say, did you ever break a sword?" He asked, knowing the answer, of course, and looking at Wado-Ichi-Monji in Roronoa's hand. He liked this sword, could feel the loyalty and connection between it and its master. Could see with how much appreciation the younger one cared about it, hardly a scratch stained the blade and yet he could see the few.

"Sure," the other said, "a few times I think, even in the fight against you, so..."

"I do not know if that Marine explained it to you back then, but if you could control your Haki well enough, your swords would never break again."

The younger one froze and looked at him in disbelief. Obviously, he had not expected what was to come.

"Every scratch on the blade of your sword is a sign of shame, a sign that your sword had to pay for you not being good enough. You have to learn to turn your swords into black blades, only this way you will be able to defeat me one day."

Roronoa did not respond but continued to stare at him in panic.

"You want a challenge, Roronoa? Well, then we will start today with the Busoshoku Haki."

"No," whispered the younger one, "but you said I had to learn the Kenbunshoku first and then we'd start with Loreen and…"

"Plans change." He took a sip. "I want to see what you can do, what this Vice Admiral has taught you, whether your failure was because of his inability or whether there is really more behind it. As I said, the closed season is over, you wanted it that way."

His pupil took a deep breath, his teeth gritted tightly, he was struggling with himself. Eventually he nodded and reached for the wine bottle, but Mihawk was faster. Grinning, he poured himself another glass.

"Until you can make black blades out of your swords, there is no alcohol for you."

"What?!" Now the other was horrified.

"Of course, as a small encouragement. Besides, it will be good for you to detox your body once in a while."

"You monster," the younger growled.

Unimpressed, Mihawk drank his wine.

"You wanted me to take off the gloves, Roronoa. Now we get down to business."