To another great week!
I hope you guys are doing well! There's nothing more for me to say, so enjoy the next chapter (and have some pity for Zoro) ;-)
Chapter 23 - Contemplation
-Zoro-
He had expected something different. For weeks, he had feared that moment. Both sleepless nights and ominous nightmares had warned him. Thousands of situations his subconscious had imagined how his training would become a horror scenario, the moment Hawk Eyes wanted to teach him the Busoshoku Haki.
Countless times he had dreamed of coming back to his senses between the ruins, covered in blood, in front of him the defaced corpses of the only two other people on this island. Countless times he had imagined how this irrepressible power would grow within him and then break out unintended, destroying everything that would be in his way.
Yes, since the day he had agreed to learn from Mihawk the application of the Busoshoku Haki, since that day Zoro had been afraid of training, even if he would never admit it.
But he had not expected things to develop like this.
"No slacking off, Roronoa!" His teacher ordered as he ran stress-free next to Zoro, even now the Shichibukai was still wearing his stupid shirt, even though it had to be at least their eighth round around the island, he didn't even seem to sweat.
Quite opposite to Zoro himself.
It wasn't that he didn't have the fitness to run around the island for a few laps, especially because they weren't even running that fast, and yet the sweat ran down his temples like rain.
Because of exhaustion he did not even manage to toss a suitable answer at the elder but concentrated on inhaling and exhaling evenly to the beat of his steps. He was slightly dizzy, and the sea breeze made him feel sick.
He knew that Mihawk could see how he was doing, and he knew that the Shichibukai would have no consideration. On the contrary.
"What? Are you already tired? We did not even finish ten laps."
Zoro had to admit that at that time, when he had encouraged the elder to stop patronizing him, he had no idea what he had been getting himself into.
For the first few days he had noticed how the change had affected the other, the concern in those eyes, the pursed lips, the dissatisfied clicking with the tongue. But by now the other had probably discovered his sadistic side. A nasty grin covered his otherwise so serious traits, as so often lately when Zoro felt he was about to reach his limit.
He had believed that the previous training with the Shichibukai had been tough, that the training of the Kenbunshoku Haki had been a challenge, but he had been mistaken.
Mihawk had adapted his training for about three weeks now, and thus they had been training day and night for about three weeks. The Shichibukai didn't care if he turned into Loreen in between, gave him no breather, demanded even more of him, demanded until Zoro collapsed and beyond.
In the beginning it had been easy, just standing on the spot, concentrating, Zoro had only taken a few hours to put the invisible armor around his body, it had been like back then, quite simple. A weak armor, hardly suitable for anything, not to defend and let alone to attack, but his body had remembered how to use Busoshoku Haki and so it had been almost an easy thing to evoke this immaterial shield.
This, however, had been the easy part, the part Zoro had known, in which Hawk Eyes had demanded almost the same from him as the Marine had back then.
But after Zoro had done it, the Shichibukai had demanded something completely different from him.
At the beginning of the training Zoro had given in to give up his swords, something that was not easy for him, but he had not resisted; if he was honest, he had been relieved. As a child, he had begun to learn to harden objects early on, even before he could even make a reasonable armor.
Mihawk approached the matter in a very different way. The moment Zoro had managed to build up a weak copy of an invisible armor, the elder had demanded him to move while making the armor.
And that was just much more difficult, like asking a child to lift a chair and then offering them a whole ship. Now Zoro understood why most members of the CP-9 could only use their Haki as long as they were not moving. It was one thing to use the armament while standing still. Layer over layer until the armor was hard enough. With a little practice, it only took a fraction of a second.
That was what Zoro had learned as a child, but that was not what Mihawk wanted from him.
That's why they ran, round by round, around this godforsaken island.
The first few days had been an impossibility for Zoro to run and use Busoshoku at the same time, he had felt incredibly stupid. Mihawk could just as well have asked him to grow wings.
At some point he got a hang of it and since then his training had consisted of nothing else. The Shichibukai didn't care if he was Zoro or Loreen, he made no difference, Zoro had to work out the physical differences himself and had to pace himself.
In the beginning he had not been doing well, three times he had come to his senses on the cool forest floor, after he had fainted from exhaustion. By now he was better. The armor he was able to produce was still far too thin to really be used in combat, but at least he was able to move freely and wasn't going crazy just yet.
If Zoro were totally honest, he was surprised. He had been very worried about this training and now he had to admit that it was just the way he liked his training: hard, merciless, and with clear progress.
A few minutes ago, he had passed the bay of the coffin boat for the ninth time and now his legs gave in. He stumbled a few steps before he had to catch himself with both arms.
"If your armor breaks through the fall, you did not understand the meaning of the Busoshoku Haki," the words of his teacher hovered over to him, who had not even stopped, but continued running.
Zoro jumped back up. He was still dizzy and felt like he was about to vomit. The creation of an armor was a matter for the whole body, unlike any training, unlike any fight, to move at the same time was like trying to scream while at the same time breathing in.
When he looked up, he could see the blurred back of Hawk Eyes, who was not even thinking of waiting for him. Determined, he got up and ran on, the steps clumsy, tactless. Every now and then his knees gave way, but he kept running.
"And what in heaven's name are you doing?" He tried to catch up with the Shichibukai. "This training is not about us running a few laps here, you know that, right? Use your Haki, otherwise there is no need for us to continue."
Now he had almost reached the elder, who ran effortlessly across the heavy forest floor.
Again, Zoro tried to calm his breath, closed his eyes for a brief moment and concentrated. When he reopened them, he could feel the slight tingling on his skin.
He didn't know how long he would last, but he would never give in. His gaze stuck on a point between the shoulder blades of the Shichibukai and he fell into a strange trot. He ignored his aching limbs and exhausted body, forgot the tingling on his skill and the slight pounding in his skull. At the edges of his field of vision, black dots danced, which made his vision blur again and again, only the older man's back remained clearly visible and so Zoro ran, noticing hardly anything around him. Sometimes he heard Hawk Eye's voice but did not understand his words.
He didn't know how much time had passed, how many laps they had run, he didn't think at all and then, all of a sudden, the back of the Shichibukai in front of him turned into a garish mixture of purple and green for a moment before the world turned black.
-Mihawk-
A quiet puff made him pause. Roronoa had probably fainted again. Sighing, he stopped and turned around for his apprentice.
It was not the first time that the young swordsman had trained to the point of complete exhaustion, simply collapsed while running, presumably unconscious before even hitting the ground.
Mihawk ruffled through his hair. This kid would kill his last nerve. For weeks he had tried to teach the youngster to pay attention to his own body, but Roronoa didn't seem to care.
Mihawk did not like how Roronoa urged himself into fainting, tormenting his body until it gave up. He had never trained like that. He had been sweating, bleeding, but this was an extreme that was almost unpleasant to him.
But he did his best to ignore this inner voice of reason. After all, he had to admit that this unfamiliar kind of training, this hard, merciless fight to the point of unconsciousness, seemed to work for the younger one.
He knew that Roronoa was talented far above the norm. The last few weeks Mihawk had time to get used to the fact that Roronoa was extremely gifted, giving the natural a name, but Mihawk had already met some highly talented swordfighters in his life and most of them had been naturals.
No, the big difference to all these naturals was this never-ending will to fight, this guts with which the younger one trained until his body betrayed him.
It was precisely this attitude that caused Roronoa to surprise him again and again. Though he had shown his talent right from the beginning, Roronoa did have his problems with the Kenbunshoku Haki and took a relatively long time to learn its basics, although he had been even faster than the average, Mihawk fortunately did not have to deal with.
But it was precisely for this reason that it was almost shocking how quickly the youngster could apply the Busoshoku Haki; not almost, it was shocking, in fact Mihawk lacked a suitable explanation for it.
Roronoa had given him high expectations with his little horror story from his childhood; Mihawk had doubted that even a Roronoa Zoro could use this ability so quickly, but the younger one had proved him wrong, had only taken a few hours for something for which the average could even need weeks.
Mihawk had not expected it, but fortunately he was able to deal with unpredictable developments. To take the pressure off his student, he had taken Roronoa's swords, and although the other had not talk about it, Mihawk could feel his concern. The youngster actually believed that he could become a danger to him.
Shaking his head about this unnecessary worry, he walked back to his little frog. Roronoa may have been an exceptional talent, may have a talent that was unparalleled, may pursue his dream purposefully and stubbornly, all this might correspond to the truth and yet, nevertheless, he was still far from his goal. Nevertheless, the youngster did not pose a threat to him in the slightest, and even though Roronoa learned using Busoshoku Haki at a speed that surprised even him, his armor was as weak as a piece of paper, not even thinking about hardening.
Since Roronoa already had bad experience with the technique, it had been important for Mihawk to teach him how to use it in a completely different way. Instead of training him to make the armor as strong and hard as possible as quickly as possible, he made sure that Roronoa focused on other things.
It was a major weakness of many Marines who were able to make a reasonable amor but were unable to move with it. In Mihawk's opinion it made much more sense to train stamina first, until it would feel almost naturally for Roronoa to wear the invisible armor permanently.
Unlike the Kenbunshoku Haki, which was mainly a concentration challenge and only demanded the head, Busoshoku affected the whole body and could hinder rather than protect an inexperienced user in combat.
That was why Roronoa should learn how to use the technique as normally as possible before he should start improving it. Only if the pirate was able to maintain the armor easily over a longer period of time while fighting in the process, or in this case run, they would start to strengthening the amor and, if possible, even hardening it.
And only then, only after Roronoa had managed the hardening, only then Mihawk wanted to encourage his apprentice to extend his armor to objects. He hoped that this slightly different approach would make the younger one would be the one controlling the Busoshoku, and not the other way around.
Looking at the other lying on the ground, he thought about what to do. His inner clock told him that Roronoa would transform soon. Again, he sighed, before throwing Roronoa over his shoulder, and headed back.
He was still annoyed by the Marine who had wanted to teach an ignorant child the use of Haki within a few days. Regardless of the student's talent, he thought it was grossly negligent to teach such techniques under time pressure. Especially Haki needed an exact application, a precise implementation, especially when a person was just beginning to understand it. Someone who ignored such things only to distinguish themselves was not suitable as a teacher.
In the shadow of the forest, Mihawk was able to detect movements. He was not surprised that the humandrills were watching them.
Of course, they did not dare to come into the light, they were too scared of him, but he was not certain they would be equally wary of Roronoa, at least not as soon as he slumped weakened by training. One more reason why he could not let his little frog out of sight during training.
In front of him rose the old castle in the everlasting fog, the mountains in the background threatening as ever. He liked this island, liked this little peace, this gloomy serenity that it radiated and Roronoa's presence brought the necessary life to the cold halls. Unfortunately, the annoying ghost girl also brought noise and chaos.
Mihawk would prefer to throw her out, rather today than tomorrow, but it seemed as if Roronoa liked her, had convinced him to let her stay. After all, she had meanwhile surrendered in her role as a housekeeper, took care of cooking, washing laundry, and cared for Roronoa's wounds. Mihawk allowed her to stay as long as she proved useful.
She was also able to help Roronoa with his women's problems and that was one of the few things he really did not want to deal with.
The boy on his shoulder still did not move, but suddenly his weight began to decrease, first one boot fell, then the other.
Mihawk stopped. It was a strange moment, although he had watched Roronoa several times, when he transformed, it was not something he could get used to. Carefully he took the unconscious child off his shoulder, now he had nothing in common with the demon of the East Blues, the long green hair, the innocent face, and that should be Roronoa Zoro?
Sighing Mihawk carried the doll weight on his arms, lifted up the boots and continued his way.
A few minutes later, he had reached the castle. Roronoa in his arms was still calm, but the ghost girl on the other hand seemed to visibly enjoy being alone for once. Similar to Kanan, Perona spent the time singing loudly, though their taste of music differed greatly. Kanan preferred the traditional folk songs, which she always sang with fervor. When Perona sang, however, her voice lamented through the empty corridors like the mourning song of a ghost.
Mihawk had never been a fan of music, found it disturbing if anything at all. But if he was quite honest, he thought that the music choice of the ghost girl was appropriate. It suited the island and it suited the castle to be filled with lamentations.
But, of course, he would never admit it.
As he crossed the entrance, he could see her ghosts disappearing as soon as they saw him, much like the humandrills in the forest. Perona probably used them as personal watchdogs, which would immediately inform her as soon as someone came in.
He actually did not mind, even though he did not like the fact that she also supervised him. But for the moment he ignored this thought while taking his little frog into the social room, the room they mainly spent their free time.
A lively fire burned in the fireplace and various colorful and sweet pastries were on the table. Mihawk wondered what Perona would do with if no one would eat them.
He laid Roronoa on the large sofa and threw a blanket over him. They had trained for four days, only taking breaks so that Roronoa could change clothes or when he could hardly stand due to exhaustion. They had not slept. There had been hardly any time to eat.
Something like this could happen, real fights could go on for days, it was important to learn to pace oneself and Roronoa was already very good at it.
Satisfied with the previous session, Mihawk grabbed a glass and a bottle of wine from the side table before strolling over to the dining table. Sweet foods were not quite his taste, but he had to admit that the dark chocolate pastry tempted him after all. He put the current newspaper under his arm and then took the desired bowl with his free hand.
Overloaded, he set off for his favorite armchair, from where he could see both the door and the sofa.
He should not be disappointed, both wine and pastry tasted excellent. Yes, he could be really satisfied. Smiling quietly, he opened his favorite read.
At that moment, he heard the click of the door followed by the ghost girl's clattering heels.
"You're back," she commented the obvious while he did not even look up.
"Is Zoro doing well?" Her voice, as usual, showed little concern. It was not the first time she had found Roronoa unconscious, and Mihawk was sure she would not be worried as long as he remained calm.
"It was a tough workout," he said simply.
If she responded wordlessly to his answer, he missed it, as he continued to pay his attention to the newspaper. However, he could hear her also taking some of the pastry before settling on the small stool next to the sofa on which Roronoa lay. She was suspiciously calm, but he decided to take advantage of this exceptional situation and not to ask for what reason.
When he flipped another page, he noticed that she was actually reading, what was rare, not that he cared. Nor did he miss the glance she repeatedly threw at Roronoa. That was probably the only thing that connected them, their constant concern for Roronoa Zoro, albeit for completely different reasons.
"Has mail arrived during the last few days?" He opened the conversation instead of sliding further down in that swirl of thoughts.
"Only a letter, the envelope looked very much like Eizen." He could hear in her voice that she was not thrilled either. Since her encounter with the politician, she seemed to be afraid of him.
Disapprovingly, he pursed his lips. During the past few weeks Roronoa had received letters and small parcels from Eizen, and Roronoa refused to explain to him what he had received.
He still could hardly believe that Roronoa had really agreed to a contract with this power-obsessed man, but whatever he said or did, Roronoa had made it very clear that he would not talk to Mihawk about it.
It was obvious that the youngster was hiding something, but as long as Mihawk did not allow himself to search his little frog's private rooms, he would not find out what that was.
"You should go to bed, I will stay." He looked up in surprise. Perona looked directly at him. "You just want to make sure that Zoro is doing well. But to be honest, you don't look much better. Have you slept at all during the last few days?"
So that was what he got for actually addressing her. Again, she took a step too far.
"You should really rest. I can stay here until Zoro wakes up."
"Your concerns are inappropriate," he said cold, "my well-being is not dependent on your worry."
She snorted angrily.
"I just wanted to be nice," she hissed directly. It was very easy to make her angry.
"Even that is not necessary. We are not friends; this is just a community of convenience. Do not forget that Roronoa was the one who let you stay here. Your presence is more of a thorn in my side."
"You're so mean!" Furious, she jumped up. "I can't stand you either, but that's no reason for you to rub it under my nose every time!"
She rushed away with clattering steps and bouncing braids. Loudly, the door slammed shut behind her back, but Roronoa did not want to be awakened.
Sighing, he turned back to his newspaper, even her outrage resembled a dramatic appearance. He really did not know why Roronoa accepted her.
Once again, he concentrated on the pages in his hands.
Surprised, he straightened up. With a quiet rustle, the newspaper slipped off his lap and fell to the ground. He could not remember when he had fallen asleep.
The room was dark. Only a faint glow of the dying fire threw grotesque shadows over the walls. Near the fireplace sat Roronoa, a hand almost stretched out in a trance after the heat. His short hair seemed red from the light of the glimmering coals.
Immediately Mihawk had to think of his dream, that dream in which the other had visited him in his sleep only to kill him. He did not know why, but there seemed to be something similar in the air.
"Roronoa, what are you doing?" He asked, annoyed by himself as his own voice almost tentatively broke the silence.
The pirate immediately pulled his hand back and looked over at him in surprise.
"You're awake," he said.
"What an observational talent," he muttered with a grin and stood up. "You look like you are doing better."
The younger one nodded and got up as well.
"I'm sorry I've made you trouble."
"Not at all. However, you always worry the ghost girl."
Roronoa raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, really?" He asked with a slight grin.
"Why did you let me sleep, Roronoa?" Mihawk steered the subject to other directions.
The youngster shrugged. "Why not? Seemed tired."
Mihawk had to admit that he could not estimate how much time had passed. However, as the darkest night prevailed in front of the windows, he must have slept for at least five hours, if not longer.
"Well, we should head to bed. A night of restful sleep makes sense with your training workload."
He walked towards the door.
"Listen, I need to talk to you." Roronoa sounded hesitant, taking long pauses between words as if he did not know how to address what had to be discussed.
Mihawk turned around again. The other had bitten his lip and rubbed his neck.
"Is it about Eizen?" He asked directly and the swift nod of the other confirmed his fear. "What is it?"
Now the younger looked at him seriously.
"There's an event he would like to take me to, so I get to know my political responsibilities."
For a moment he was calm.
"All right. You have agreed?"
Again, the other nodded.
Mihawk felt how he became more attentive. He could not tell the words on the tip of his tongue without this conversation ending in a dispute. He did not understand why Roronoa wanted to work for the politician, but he doubted it was because of the money.
In his opinion, Roronoa should get rid of Eizen. The more closely Loreen was associated with Eizen, the more likely it was that any attentive newspaper reader would draw the right conclusions. Working with Eizen was extremely dangerous in several respects.
"And when?" He asked instead of saying what he thought. He did not know why Roronoa did not change his mind, he just knew he was missing something.
"In a week, a Marine ship is already on its way here and should arrive within the next few days."
Dissatisfied, he clicked his tongue and began to pace through the room with his arms folded.
"And you decided to tell me just now?"
"Better than the day before, right?" The younger one did not sound bold, but certainly not apologetic. He informed him but did not ask for permission. It was obvious that Roronoa wanted to make his own decisions and Mihawk had no say in them.
He took a deep breath.
"Well, that cannot be changed now. We should talk to the ghost girl that we will not be here for a few days. You should tell me something like this earlier the next time so that I can plan it. It is not very conducive to your training."
He could hardly prevent his displeasure from dripping into the spoken words. He knew that at some point it would come to something like this, of course Eizen wanted to use Lady Loreen, it was about more than just control.
"So, to be honest," Roronoa sounded controlled, a clear warning signal, "so, you can't come along."
"Excuse me?" He swirled around to the youngster, who was still standing almost motionless next to the fireplace
"According to Eizen, the conference is about highly provocative issues in some crisis areas and the presence of a Shichibukai would send the wrong signals to the other parties."
"And since when do I care what Eizen thinks?" He replied, harsh. "I hope you are not naive enough to believe this excuse. He wants to separate me from you."
"I know that, too," grumbled the younger man, who also folded his arms.
"Then why are you accepting it?" He grumbled, and hurriedly walked towards the younger one. "I don't care what motives Eizen suggests, we will not play according to this game, do you understand? I will accompany you, whether it suits him or..."
"Stop," the other interrupted him coolly and looked up at him unimpressed.
It was dead-silent, even the crackling embers fell quiet under the tension.
"What?!" The rage that had gathered within him could hardly be tamed, Roronoa on the other hand was the serenity itself.
"We've talked about this subject many times," Roronoa continued, "you have to stop treating me like a stupid kid. I don't like the situation and I'd rather train here with you than play the little doll of some asshole politician, but..." he interrupted Mihawk before he could even speak, "but I'm not stupid, okay? With Luffy as captain, we have to be prepared for everything. I had not heard of Enis Lobby or Sir Crocodile, had not been prepared for what we had to face. You yourself said that I have to expect anything in the New World. I must not only become stronger, a better fighter and strategist. I need to know our enemies."
Slowly, his anger subsided.
"I've never been interested in politics or events in the world, but I now understand that I can't continue to be so naive about life. You taught me that." Roronoa was still staring up at him, he was serious and clear. How much more mature he had become.
Sighing, Mihawk turned to the window, breaking all that was left of the tension.
"Of course, I understand that. But why Eizen? If you want to polish up your political and social expertise, I am happy to help you without being directly at risk of being caught, or worse."
Half-heartedly, the younger one laughed behind his back.
"I will manage Eizen. But you have to admit that an influential politician may be a better teacher than a Shichibukai who would rather have nothing to do with all the stuff."
"Tze," he replied, but he could hardly disagree. He had grown up in this world, but he had never liked it.
"I think I'm going to bed now," Roronoa concluded, "so we'll be able to make good use of the next few days."
"You should take the ghost girl with you."
"Where to? To bed?"
Mihawk rolled his eyes and turned to his little frog.
"To this event. She can help you with hair and clothes. She is also significantly better at choosing her way of words than you. Lady Loreen has never been seen without my company and just after it was announced that she might have health problems, it would be extremely contradictory if she were suddenly travelling alone."
The younger man raised an eyebrow and waited for Mihawk to catch up with him.
"For all I care," Roronoa murmured, "although I'm pretty sure you just want to get rid of her because you don't want to be here alone with her."
They left the fireplace room.
"Certainly. Her voice alone drives me mad."
