A wonderful sunday to all of you!
Here is the next chapter, I hope you'll enjoy, and tomorrow we'll be back in our old rhythm ;-)
Thank you all for taking the time to comment, especially right now it really means a lot to me! Thank you!
Chapter 28 - Lessons
-Zoro-
"Are you sure?" He grumbled doubtfully.
The other rolled his eyes excessively.
"Would I otherwise make this proposal, Roronoa? Trust me."
Now Zoro rolled his eyes in annoyance. For another second, he looked at the other man with disapproval, but then he took a deep breath and nodded.
Mihawk offered his arm covered with Haki.
After checking the previous day that his Haki skills had not been damaged in the slightest by his maniac moment, they had tried to see if Zoro could use his odd ability in Loreen's form as well, but he had failed miserably and had confirmed Mihawk's presumption that he, as Loreen, couldn't absorb Haki and wouldn't lose control.
This had calmed him down a bit, but the new experiment was enough to get his pulse up again.
Today Zoro himself had not used any Haki to make sure that he had enough for whatever his teacher had planned for him. Mihawk did not want to provoke the monster in him at all today but focus on this other ability only to determine if the two were connected or not.
Zoro's task today was actually quite easy: he was supposed to absorb Mihawk's Haki. But this training method was simply stupid in his opinion. What would happen if he took too much of the other's Haki? What would happen if he would go berserk again? What if his inner demon could hurt the other?
"Calm down, Roronoa. Even if you succumb to your mania again, I will still be strong enough not to fall victim to you."
"What makes you so sure?" Zoro grumbled doubtfully, but the other was just smiling.
"Please do not underestimate me. I am a capable fighter, even without my sword, and plain power will not be enough to defeat me."
His self-confident could sometimes be really annoying and yet Zoro somehow calmed down. He never forgot who the other was. Even if Mihawk was lazing around in his large armchair or cut out recipes from the newspaper for Kanan, Zoro never forgot that the man in front of him was the best swordsman in the world.
Yet he had to admit that he sometimes forgot what that meant.
Mihawk was not only an outstanding strategist and master of his art, no, to get and keep this title it needed more, it needed strength, perseverance, skill, courage, and things Zoro didn't even know how to name.
Sometimes Zoro forgot that the man in front of him was anything but just some teacher and scholar.
Mihawk was built slimmer than Zoro, more athletic, similar to the cook, perhaps that was why Zoro did not necessarily associate such figure with strength. Yes, the cook wasn't a bad fighter, a pretty good fighter even – although Zoro would never admit it out loud – but Zoro had always been superior to him in terms of strength. Only through his nimble legs he had been able to keep up with Zoro.
Now he looked at the other; was he really so naive to underestimate the best swordsman in the world solely because of his built?
"Pay attention, Roronoa," Mihawk ordered him. "We do not have all day. Let us start."
Nodding to himself, Zoro decided to discard this thought for the time being and concentrated on the task in front of him. Deeply inhaling he reached out. At first, nothing happened. Mihawk's black colored arm felt hard and almost cold under his fingers, more like metal than living flesh. But then, almost casually, it felt like drops of cold water slipping up his fingertips, over the back of his hand and his palm.
Mihawk had been right with his guess.
"Interesting," the older one mumbled, and Zoro's gaze fluttered from his own arm up to the concentrated face of the Shichibukai, who had bent down slightly to take a closer look at his and Zoro's arm.
"Are you aware of what you are doing and how you are doing it?" Mihawk asked and met Zoro's eyes.
"I have no idea how this works or what's going on here," Zoro replied quickly with a slight shrug. His own arm felt quite cool by now and he noted how this feeling slowly spread across his chest.
"That's your Haki?" He muttered, though he knew the answer, and placed the other hand against his chest, but then he looked up again. "Does it hurt?"
The other's slight grin became a bit wider.
"Are you worried about me?" Zoro wanted to respond, but the elder continued: "It feels odd, like a tiny injection needle was pushed through the veins in my arm up to my heart and sucking off my blood straight from there."
Surprised, Zoro leaned back a little. "That's strangely precise," he murmured in amazement.
"It is indeed a strangely precise feeling," the Shichibukai laughed softly before getting serious again. "How does it feel for you?"
Zoro tried to explain the feeling of the cool drops of water moving up his arm while the cold spread both to the other arm and to his abdominal area.
Gradually, he felt sick. As if the other had read his thoughts, Mihawk ordered him to let go.
But to Zoro's surprise, it wasn't that easy. As if frozen, he could barely move his fingers and his arm was unusually heavy. The moment he was finally able to let go of the other, he found it difficult to breathe, as if there was too much weight on his body.
"What...?" He could hardly speak, yet the elder said nothings but circled him only like a sculptor who examined his work.
"It is too much energy for your body," the Shichibukai calmly explained what he wanted to ask. "Like a flood wave held only by a dam. If we do nothing, it will soon tear you apart."
And why was the other so damn calm about this?!
"How?" Zoro hissed, feeling how he found it difficult to keep his shoulders straight. His muscles became more and more cramped and he could hardly move.
"It is very simple: Use your Haki."
It was like an explosion. Although he only wanted to harden his arms, he felt his whole body being covered by Haki.
"Very good," he heard the elder's voice, "does it feel better?"
He nodded only as he felt the force chasing out of him.
"All right, Roronoa, then come on." Confused, he stared at the other. "You must move regardless of the strength of your armor; do not let the energy paralyze your muscles, otherwise you will have problems to move at all. So let us run for now."
Although Zoro could almost feel the energy flowing out of him, it took a long time for the oppressive feeling of tightness to subsided. Dripping with sweat he paused, still feeling this unfamiliar force bubbling in him, but now it was not too much, now it was almost pleasant, inspiring.
The elder nodded contentedly and Zoro wondered for a moment how much life energy he had tapped from the other and whether it really affected him as little as it seemed.
"Well, you have to learn three things." The Shichibukai raised the first finger. "First, that you only absorb foreign Haki if you want to. You have certainly noticed it as well. With this ability, you could replenish your own energy in a fight at any time, which would give you unimaginable benefits, but if you cannot turn it off and absorb too much, it just slows and weighs you down, could eventually even kill you."
Zoro nodded.
"Second, you need to maximize the capacity of the energy you can hold and know its limits to prevent these downsides. You have just absorbed far too much of my Haki, and the energy you could not store became your enemy." Then the Shichibukai raised the third finger. "And of course, you have to learn to control both your own and the foreign Haki. We still have to figure out how to show you the flow of the Haki without you automatically sucking up my own. Otherwise I will find it difficult to show you how much Haki you simply..."
"I noticed," Zoro interrupted the other. "You mean that I just let the Haki flow right out of me, don't you?" He didn't like what it sounded like, but the other nodded.
"Yes, I just felt that, I could almost see it dripping out of my skin."
"Ah, that is a good thing. Then let us start right away."
"And how?"
Like out of nowhere, Mihawk pulled a sponge out of his back pocket. Zoro stared at the orange-sized object in disbelief and wondered if the older man had really carried it around with him all the time, but also what to do with it.
"I want you coat it," Mihawk replied to his unanswered question, "but without it changing its shape."
-Mihawk-
And with that Roronoa should spend the next few days.
For more than a week they had not left for the ruins to train together.
Of course, Roronoa still ran his rounds every morning and of course he spent much of his time under Mihawk's supervision, but as long as he could not concentrate his Busoshoku Haki in the least as well as his Kenbunshoku Haki, they could not start with the actual training - combat training.
Over the days, Mihawk's other presumption had been confirmed as well: as long as Roronoa's own Haki was not too exhausted, his personal demon was not be seen. That had the advantage, that they did not have to deal with that subject too much at the moment, which was a good thing, because Mihawk was still uncertain about how best to tackle it.
Roronoa's inner monster was a defensive mechanism; when too much of Roronoa's energy had left him and a stranger's Haki came within reach, the monster awoke to replenish its own resource, but at the same time it used up all the available energy for a quick victory. This was dangerous, as this high use of power could end fatally for Zoro, still Mihawk thought of this demon as useful in several ways.
However, there was this small problem that Roronoa obviously could not distinguish friend from foe in this state, so it would be quite good if he would learn to control it. But how Mihawk did not know yet and of course his assumptions were far from confirmed, but Mihawk was actually still quite relaxed.
Before they would come to this topic, Roronoa had to master the other task and right now he was sitting cross-legged in front of the blazing fireplace, the sponge in both hands, which at that very second turned black and swelled to the size of a watermelon; like a hot potato, Roronoa dropped the sponge, rubbing his face in frustration.
"That was a little bit better," said Mihawk reassuring, folding the newspaper, but the other looked at him unimpressed without replying.
"Come here," he then ordered, holding his arm to the youngster.
They had quickly become accustomed to combining the practice of Haki control with that of Haki absorption. This way Roronoa could use all time he had to train until he had to transform into Loreen, and on the other hand they could prevent Roronoa from falling back on his mania due a lack of his own Haki.
"I don't like this," the other grumbled as he got up and staggered towards him. "What if this has negative side effects for you?"
Roronoa was really worried about him, quite cute.
"When will you finally understand that your concern for me is unfounded?"
"Tze," the other muttered only slightly blushing, "just shut up."
Like a starving vampire, Roronoa reached for his arm. Again, Mihawk noted that Roronoa could not absorb his Haki as long as he himself did not use it. This information was very relevant to him. Though he was training the other one so that Roronoa would one day defeat him, that did not mean he would make it easy for him.
No, this situation also gave Mihawk an unprecedented advantage. Now he knew Roronoa's most secret asset and had time to think about a counterstrategy. How shocking it must be for an opponent to realize that their own disappeared much faster than usual while the opponent seemed to be getting stronger and stronger?
Mihawk suspected that it probably would not have taken him long to figure out what was happening, but the question was whether he could have found the weak point in the short time of a fight. However, these were "what if..." thoughts pointless.
Satisfied he noted that Roronoa could at least estimate how much Haki he could take in by now. The first few days he had always taking way too much if Mihawk had not interrupted him, by now he knew his limits.
"You seem very displeased today," Mihawk assumed.
"Does that surprise you?" The younger one replied. "How am I going to become a better fighter if I can't get past the basics? On Sasaki I fought at least, with or without a sword."
His little frog let go of him, this was still his only way to interrupt the stream of Haki, not able to control it in the least.
"Roronoa, I am well aware that you are making the most progress in direct action. Nevertheless," he warned, "good preparation ensures success."
The other stood up scornfully and fetched his sponge from the ground.
"This is not just a stupid saying, Roronoa," he said, scolding the younger man's thoughts, "it is the truth. On Sasaki, I focused on your biggest flaws to make sure you would survive. Now we have the time to really build you up and I would not waste it on just letting you fiddle with your swords every day."
"Fiddle?" The other repeated, staring down at Mihawk, but his threat did not impress him.
Mihawk sighed. "Say Roronoa, how did you train on your own? Repeating the same sequence of steps over and over until passing out, always trained only with your swords? Or rather strengthen your muscles with weights, strengthen your mind with meditation?"
The younger man looked at him extremely mad without saying anything at all and turned to his sponge; immediately it doubled in size.
This sponge became Roronoa's constant companion, while playing chess, while eating, while working through Eizen's documents.
Even as Loreen, he always carried it around and tried to harden it from the inside out without it swelling up. In this form, it was much easier for him, but this may simply be due to the fact that Loreen's natural Haki flow was slower in general. In Loreen's form, he would use up his Haki more slowly, especially as long as he could not control its flow.
"Is he still with the sponge?" The ghost girl asked in amazement, before she stopped in the door frame. "What are you actually doing here?"
Mihawk did not even look up as he poured hot water over the herbs.
"This is my kitchen; I do not have to justify my actions."
From the corner of his eye, he could see her sticking out her tongue. Quietly muttering under her breath, she began to prepare dinner, meanwhile he put away the empty kettle and looked at the leaves dancing in the hot water.
But he could not help but watch her. She really tried, he had to admit that at least, yet she made mistakes that even caught his attention and he was truly not a master in the kitchen.
"Not like that," he finally stepped in, when she was about to throw the diced onions into a cold pan without oil at the same time as the other ingredients. "You have to heat the pan first and then fry the onions."
Surprised, she looked up to him as he put the sieve with his herbs in the sink and joined her at the stove.
"How do you know how to cook?" She asked, astonished, as if had not spent several days during the last months to save what she or Roronoa had almost destroyed.
"I am a bachelor, what do you expect?" He replied coolly, turning on the old stove. His cooking skills could not keep up with Kanans, but he had spent a lot of time alone and it was at least enough for his taste.
"When the oil starts forming stripes, you can put the onions in," he instructed her, setting the correct temperature. Then he went over to the sink and took care of his herbs, knowing full well that her large eyes were chasing him.
"Thank you," she finally said, and he nodded without looking at her.
"What did you make?" She asked him as he walked over to the teapot.
"Tea," he replied coolly.
"Yes, I see that. But what kind? Smells weird."
He was not certain if her interest should surprise or annoy him, nontheless he replied: "A special mixture of green tea, matcha, and a few other ingredients. It helps concentration and blood circulation."
"For Zoro?" She correctly speculated. Again, he nodded and placed pot and cups on a small tray. "You really like him, don't you?"
Now this direct question hit him unprepared.
"He is a promising talent," he replied vaguely.
She clicked her tongue and pushed the pan back and forth a little.
"Don't dodge. It's obvious. What kind of teacher is taking the trouble to make tea for his student? And you haven't even told him about your injury."
"And we will keep it that way," he said.
Defensively, she raised both hands before looking back into the pan.
"Like this?" She then asked.
Sighing he bent over her only to confirm her question. She willingly began to add the onions. Shaking his head, Mihawk grabbed the tray.
"Say, can I ask you something?" She already asked a question. He considered toying it with her, but decided it was not worth the effort.
"Continue," he generously allowed.
She had still turned her back towards him and unnecessarily pushed the onions back and forth in the pan.
"You once said that I have not yet used the potential of my devil power to its full capacity and I wonder what I can do to change that. When I return to Master Moria, I want to be of use for him."
Again, he shook his head. Her words were nothing but hollow, nothing he could take seriously.
"How am I supposed to know?" He replied coolly. "It is not like I know your skills."
"Why did you say it then?" Now she turned to him, her eyes shining with uncried tears. "Do you just want to make fun of me, or don't you take me seriously at all?"
This attitude was ridiculous.
"Concentrate on cooking, ghost girl. I cannot teach you anything, it would be a waste of time."
He went and left her behind.
In the fireplace room, he met Roronoa, who was still busy with his sponge. He poured tea for his little frog and himself and called him to the chessboard. He enjoyed playing with the younger one, not necessarily because it was a good game – no, it really was not – but he liked watching Roronoa think, and the most interesting conversations always arose over the chessboard. It was just like that this evening as well, although Roronoa complained several times about the tea.
Again, and again the other reached for the sponge and coated it, he made progress, but only very slowly.
They talked about many things, the riots in the North Blue, whether there would be a new Shichibukai and who that could be, some sword theories – in which Roronoa was extremely well-read – and stories of well-known swordfighters.
These conversations inspired him unspeakably, and he could see Roronoa flourishing, too, when he recounted intriguingly, re-enacting individual combat situations with his hands. It was only when they were discussing such things that the ice-cold demon of the East Blues really melted, revealing the little boy, who had fallen for the art of the sword, underneath.
Roronoa laughed out loud and took one of Mihawk's pawns off the field.
"Listen," he said then, and the good mood quickly left him, "don't you think you were just a little bit harsh with Perona?"
Mihawk was not surprised that the other had heard the conversation. His Kenbunshoku Haki was really of quality by now.
"No," he said plain.
"No?" Roronoa repeated, looking up to him. "You can help her, right? So why did you reject her?"
Now their eyes met.
"Should I take it off from your training time?" He replied unimpressed, but Roronoa only lifted up the sponge as a response.
"She is annoying," Mihawk justified, "and I do not teach just any person. You are an exception, Roronoa, be aware of this and be grateful."
The younger shrugged his shoulders, while his sponge turned black and grew to the size of his head.
"I'm not saying you should teach her like me. But you could give her a hint."
"No."
Dissatisfied grumbling, the youngster dropped the sponge again.
"Why not? You don't need to like her."
"She does not deserve it."
Now the other's eyes grew big.
"Roronoa, she is very different from you and me. She does not know what she wants and even more so, she is not ready to give anything for her goals." He took Roronoa's queen off the field. He always lost her very quickly. "If she really wanted to find Moria, she would have left this island long ago against all odds, just think of yourself when it comes to your crew. She, however, makes herself useful in our home, because it is easier to pretend to be a housekeeper than to pursue her own ambitions."
The younger man continued to bend over the chessboard.
"If she really wanted to get better, she would train like you do, but no, she is standing in the kitchen and asking me how she can get better. She chooses the easy way and takes no responsibility for her actions and decisions. I cannot help anyone like that."
It was only now that he noticed that Roronoa was still watching him.
"But, considering that you don't give a crap about her, you did think a damn lot about her."
"Drink your tea."
