To all of you a lovely first monday of the year,
I hope everything is going well for you and you have the time to enjoy a sweet little chapter ;-)
I have not much more to say except for: enjoy!
See you friday^^
Chapter 50 - Gardening
-Zoro-
"Welcome back," he murmured, without looking up from his book.
The Shichibukai muttered something approving and dropped on his armchair, clumsily taking off his boots, a sign of how exhausting his day must have been.
"How was it?" Zoro asked mildly interested.
"Loud," Mihawk commented dryly, rose again, and walked on socks over to the little tea table with a variation of booze, which he usually rarely touched as he preferred his wine.
"I'd like one, too," Zoro remarked, continuing reading.
"I suppose you mean a glass of water."
"Oh, come on, don't act like that. Some whiskey won't kill me."
He could feel the elder's resolute gaze and waved it off.
"Lirin asked after you," Mihawk then calmly explained and sat down again, taking a deep sip from his glass, which was way too full. "She was actually upset that you did not come along."
Zoro raised only an eyebrow.
"I think Jiroushin would disagree," he said, flipping a page.
"Well, Jiroushin was so excited, I think he would have forgiven you for the G-6 if you had asked him."
"So, everything went well?"
Exhaling loudly, the Shichibukai nodded and leaned back.
"Everything went well, Jiroushin is a father now." Then Mihawk smiled and it was one of those few honest moments Zoro had seen him smile. "Luckily, all went well. A healthy child, strong, the doctors say, especially considering that Lirin is no young woman. But both are doing well, and everybody was overly excited. It is a miracle that this little brat was even able to sleep with all the turmoil."
Zoro watched the other from the corner of his eye as he continued to speak.
"I mean, I know I am not really a family man, but for heaven's sake, how many members does an average family have? And why are they all so loud? I do not know how many strangers just hugged me – without even asking - it was horrible; who likes such family celebrations?"
"Well, at least that won't happen to us," Zoro remarked absently, turning back to his book.
"Excuse me?" Half a glance told him that the Shichibukai had just sat down and looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"
"What am I supposed to mean by that? Your only family is your father, whom you can't stand the least. I don't have a family. Therefore, neither you nor I will ever have family celebrations."
He could hear the elder placing down his glass.
"What a relief," he sighed loudly.
"However, my crew is certainly just as exhausting and you are now actually part of Jiroushin's family, aren't you, godfather Hawky."
Now Zoro looked up to see the frozen expression of the Shichibukai, who unfortunately caught himself too quickly.
"I am not anything like that just yet," Mihawk grumbled, taking another sip, "only after the baptism I will receive a place of honor in this exhausting family. By the way, you will accompany me to that; Lirin has made it quite clear that even death would not be an acceptable excuse for your absence."
"Oh geez." Zoro scratched his face. "This woman is quite a handful."
Then he noticed how Mihawk was watching him seriously. Zoro quickly lowered his hand and put on a nasty grin.
"But let's face it, poor kid, who would come up with choosing you as godfather?"
Mihawk's gaze met his, but obviously he allowed to be sidetracked by Zoro's distraction.
"Oh Roronoa, you are doing me wrong," he chuckled lightly. "You forget who I am. As the last Dracule, I am one of the richest people in the world and I have no heirs, I descend from the World Aristocrats and have more influence than some kingdoms. I am also one of the strongest and most powerful warriors in the world. Jiroushin would be stupid not to put a helpless infant under my protection."
"Idiot." Zoro decided to read on.
"How was that?"
Groaning, he looked up again.
"Do you really think Jiroushin asked you because of something like that?"
For a moment, the elder looked at him thoughtfully.
"Roronoa, any emotional motivations aside, such important decisions should always be based on rational motives. I am aware, of course, that Jiroushin and I have been close friends for a long time, but I am not the type of person you want to have around your child and I am certainly not a role model. The only thing I can be of use for Jiroushin's brat is with my money, my reputation, and my power."
"As I said," Zoro replied unimpressed, "you're an idiot."
"Roronoa!"
Mihawk grabbed the book out of his hand, but Zoro just grinned.
"Even if you're the best swordsman in the world and maybe even the best teacher I could have, do you really think I would deal with your annoying bantering and arrogant behavior just because of that? Tze."
The Shichibukai looked at him stunned.
"And I think for Jiroushin it's the same. Power, wealth, and position don't make true friends, Mihawk, especially not with such a shitty character as yours. Believe me, those things are probably even less important for Jiroushin than for me. The only reason he was stupid enough to choose you as godfather is because you are friends and nothing else."
Zoro got up and took the book out of the other's hands. The envelope - which Zoro had carelessly used as a bookmark - fell to the ground; the Shichibukai reached it first.
"A letter from Eizen?" His voice told Zoro only too well, that the elder reacted far too wary. "And you have not even opened it yet?"
"I don't have to," Zoro grumbled, trying to reach for the letter, but he stood no chance against the long arms of the Shichibukai. "It's not important. Nothing you'd have to get upset about."
"It is a letter from Eizen, Roronoa, and you want to tell me that it is irrelevant? You do not even know what..."
"It's a check, okay?"
Now the other looked at him with surprise and let his hands sink back into his lap.
"A check?" Mihawk asked suspicious.
"Yes, once a month he sends me a check, as compensation for the fact that I – Lady Loreen – am always on call. The letters are lighter than the others, I recognize it. So it's really nothing important."
The Shichibukai threw him a questioning glance and, as Zoro sighed in surrender, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the check.
"And you use this check as a bookmark?" He asked, his eyes scurrying over the document.
"What else am I supposed to do with it?" Zoro replied with a shrug.
"Something useful?" Mihawk said with a raised eyebrow and looked at him again. "This is dead capital, Roronoa."
"I don't really care. I don't want his money and I'm not going to discuss it with you now. I don't give a crap about those checks."
"Have you destroyed the previous ones?"
It should come as a surprise to Zoro that the elder didn't even break off an argument, but he was too tired to think about it.
"No, they are in my room, in the right bedside table. If you want them, you can have them. I don't care."
Mihawk pushed the check back into its envelope.
"Even if I do not approve your collaboration with this man, Roronoa, I would advise you to at least take advantage of it. These aliments could prove very useful for you. Surely you do not have any savings? Do you have any belongings apart from your swords and what I have given to you? What do your crew's financial resources look like...?"
"Mihawk!" He interrupted the other with a grunt and rubbed his neck. "I don't care about anything like that. I have my swords, clothes to put on, and no empty stomach. I don't need blood money. As I said, if you want it, take it; right bedside table, bottom drawer."
Reassuringly, the elder raised both hands.
"As you wish, Roronoa, I will not force you to do anything. But are you sure? Even if I accept and respect your attitude, it seems naive and negligent to me not to use these aliments."
"I think we just have to agree to disagree," Zoro concluded the discussion, shrugging his shoulders again. "I'm going to bed now, I'm tired, and we're not going to train today, right?"
"Of course not, not before you get better."
He stopped.
"I'm fine, so that means we can train now?"
"Nonsense." To Zoro's surprise, the Shichibukai stood behind him and looked down at him seriously. "With such an injury, it is important that you take time to recover."
Before Zoro could even say anything, the elder put a hand on his bandage.
"Back off! It's just a cut, nothing to get upset about." He slapped the other's hand away and rubbed the bandage that covered half of his face and left ear. "Now stop looking at me like that and stop worrying. That's not a real injury, just a..."
"Do not play it down, Roronoa."
He didn't like it, the way Mihawk always looked at him, since Zoro wore the bandage, almost as if...
"You know it's not your fault, right?"
As expected, the elder dodged his gaze.
"It was my idea, Roronoa, and I bear the responsibility for it. I should not have proposed it, it was reckless and..."
"Shut up."
Today the other passed even his own limits in being annoying. Zoro sighed.
"So to make this clear: It was your idea and I joined in – and if you ask me, it was much better than my idea with dancing – so don't look at me so pathetic and stop feeling sorry for you. Does it hurt? Yes. Will it leave a scar? Yeah. Are you an idiot because you are now plagued by a bad conscience? Hell, yeah!"
"Once again, you are extremely rude."
"And once again, you are extremely annoying. I'm going to bed now."
He started walking.
"Roronoa," the Shichibukai called after him, "if you want, we can at least dance for a bit, tomorrow."
"Okay."
Even if Zoro would never admit it out loud, he had to at least admit to himself that he did enjoy dancing. It had little to do with what he had to learn for the Marine ball, much more it was that the Shichibukai simply ran through the room and hurled Zoro around and he somehow had to try to keep up.
He was far from influencing the dance himself, but whenever Zoro looked up, he saw the other's fine grin and Zoro knew the Shichibukai was having fun. The past few weeks they had not only danced – fortunately not only – but worked on some other things, but since Zoro wore the bandage around his head, Mihawk had literally forbidden him to even leave the castle.
The last few days Zoro had actually spend with doing nothing but reading on the sofa. The Shichibukai had even forbidden Perona to ask Zoro to help her with her gardening and had ordered her to make sure that Zoro did not do anything straining – it had been so annoying – especially for the two days the Shichibukai had been gone.
The day before last night, Mihawk had received a call that he was urgently about to come to Sadao – the island on which Jiroushin and Lirin lived – and the previous early morning the Shichibukai had reported that the child had been born.
Because of the injury, Zoro had not been able to travel with him, to his relieve, because since his last dispute with Jiroushin they had not exchanged one word and he was sure that the soldier had just more important things to worry about, moreover, Zoro had no desire for stranger's family celebrations at all.
But for another reason he was glad that he didn't have to travel. It was true that the wound was annoying and itching, but when he transformed... Zoro sighed.
Mihawk had said that it was fortunate that Lady Loreen did not suffer any scars, no matter what, at some point the scars always faded away in that body. After all, Zoro would now bear a mark on his face for the rest of his life and it would help him to disguise that he and Lady Loreen were one and the same person.
Zoro disagreed. He had no problem with scars, on the contrary, he carried them with pride about the past fights he had fought and decisions he had made, and as Lady Loreen he would never be able to show that pride. Zoro also had no problem with pain, it showed that one was still alive.
But the wound healed more slowly in the other body and even if he would never tell Mihawk, it fucking hurt as Loreen. Arriving in his room, Zoro dropped with his face forward on his bed and allowed his urging body to change, within a few heartbeats his body obeyed and the wound over his left cheek began to throb painfully. The pressure against the mattress hardly helped.
Biting his lip, he hit the pillow several times while lying to endure the pain, this wound was by far the most painful of all his injuries as Loreen and so he avoided this body as long as possible. But now he would have to tolerate it several hours in this body, knowing that this pain would make any sleep impossible.
"Roronoa."
Damn it! He had forgotten to lock the door – wait a second, he didn't even know if the door actually had a lock, he had never thought about it, but given how often the other just came into his room… - he should have locked the damn door.
"I'm fine," he murmured into the blanket, the slight jaw movement already enough to make him wince in pain.
"You are a bad liar."
He could hear the Shichibukai coming closer.
"Just leave me alone," Zoro muttered softly in order to move his face as little as possible, "it just takes time to heal. Nothing to worry about."
The chair next to Zoro's bed scratched across the floor.
"It takes time and the right care. When was the last time you changed the bandage?"
Zoro shrugged his shoulders but pushed himself up. Mihawk sat right in front of him, a small kit with bandage material on his lap.
"Well, come here, let me see."
"Perona can do this."
The Shichibukai nodded.
"She could, but only if you would let her, right?"
Zoro rolled with his uninjured eye and crouched down on the bedside while Mihawk began to undo his already loose bandage, with each layer the pressure eased and the pain increased.
"I told you to change the bandage after every transformation, or at least once a day," the elder scolded him.
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't wear a bandage at all," Zoro replied grumpily, but didn't move.
"Yes, that is why I set the rules."
The rest of the bandage fell into Zoro's lap and the fresh air burned in the wound. It took all his willpower not to wince due to the pain. Even after almost a week, it hurt as much as on the first day.
"Does not look bad at all," the Shichibukai judged, throwing the dirty bandage to the ground before swiping a disturbing strand of Zoro's hair aside.
Zoro wanted to answer something, but only flinched in pain when Mihawk began to clean the wound with a damp swab; in the free hand he held the still almost full bottle of some fluid, which Zoro had not even used and wasn't really aware of what it was for.
"You have to be careful that the edges of the wound remain supple and do not form a dry crust that could tear even deeper."
"Not my... first wound," Zoro squeezed out between gritted teeth.
"Given that, your self-care is especially lacking."
Silently, Zoro let the other do what he had to, buried his hands in his lap and fought against the pain; he would probably never get used to it, this body was so much more sensitive.
"Maybe we should let you rest tomorrow as well," Mihawk pondered aloud.
"No," Zoro disagreed, looking at him seriously, "in my body... I'm fine."
He had to inhale deeply as the elder sprayed the strange fluid on his wound. Mihawk did not respond but held a pad towards him.
"Press it on as I take care of the bandages."
Without replying, Zoro followed the order.
"It still seems to hurt a lot," the Shichibukai remarked thoughtfully. "I know you do not think much of medication, but maybe you should take some painkillers so you can sleep through the night."
"No."
Displeased, the elder clicked his tongue.
"Stop fighting this useless battle. If we want to resume dancing tomorrow, you should be as well rested as possible."
Zoro grumbled only dissatisfied, but otherwise kept quiet.
"Done." Mihawk leaned back while Zoro began to braid his long hair quickly so it was out of the way. Now that the wound had been wrapped again and the burning had subsided a little, it didn't hurt as much, but it still annoyed him.
"You are getting better at this," the Shichibukai muttered, curiously bending forward, his eyes a little too fixated on Zoro's hands. "There is something fascinating about these motions."
"Not really."
"You should sleep a little bit for now." The elder rose. "Tomorrow we will see how far we can go."
-Mihawk-
Not far.
Roronoa tried to let it not be noted, but not only was his view influenced by the concealed eye. He had difficulties with balance and stability, misjudged distances and his limited field of view seemed to bother his orientation, which was far from good either way.
In addition, his visible, pinched eye showed that he obviously had at least a headache.
Mihawk stopped.
"That is enough for today," he said, aware of the awaiting dispute.
"No," Roronoa growled immediately, "I can go on. We already wasted enough time..."
"This time there will be no discussion, Roronoa," he said coolly, turning around. "I think you had an excellent idea to replace the fight with a dance, but here as well it is necessary that you are physically resilient and have a clear mind."
He walked through the empty room. In recent weeks, Perona had spent some of her free time making this room presentable again. Meanwhile, the tiles and walls of green stone shone impressively under the candlelight of the shimmering chandeliers. Even the old wall-hangings had regained their blood-red color.
"From now on, you will be permanently restricted in your view. Your body has to get used to it and it has to recover for that. You certainly barely slept last night. We have had this argument many times and I am tired of repeating myself."
He briefly looked over his shoulder at the other.
"I do want us to be able to continue your training soon, but not in this way. I will now drink a glass of wine and read the newspaper. You can follow when you are done with sulking."
In recent months, Mihawk had learned that this tactic was far more efficient than getting involved in a discussion with the younger one, because such a discussion he could only lose.
He had almost reached the top of the stairs when he heard the other follow him.
"It's not even noon yet," Roronoa grumbled as he closed up to him.
"It is never too early for wine."
At the top of the stairs, he waited for his protégé.
"Why do you always take this way?" The younger one remarked as they descended the stairs on the other side. "You know there are two doors down there that you can get into the ballroom without walking stairs?"
"But these are the doors for the servants and the commoners, Roronoa, not for us."
"Speak for yourself." From the corner of his eye, he saw the other's eye roll. "Moreover, this island has no staff, commoners, or anyone else. There is only you, me, Perona, and a bunch of monkeys."
"Are you talking about me?" At the lower heel of stairs Perona walked by, untying her apron. Presumably she had just finished the kitchen work and wanted to go to the garden now. "Are you done training already?"
"For today, Roronoa needs to rest."
"I don't," the other growled, before turning to the castle's guest. "Do you need help outside? If we don't do anything today, I can also come to the garden."
"Roronoa," he rebuked the younger one, "we do not let your training rest just so that you can dig through dirt. Your wound must heal."
"Back off. Some gardening won't kill me."
"So actually... " Perona interrupted them with a shy smile. " ... I don't have much to do, today. The Humandrills are a great help to me, but I have given them the day off. I just wanted to plant a few potatoes; I can do that on my own."
"You see, Roronoa. She can do it on her own."
Roronoa again rolled his visible eye but raised both hands while Perona hurried on.
The two swordsmen also went on, although Mihawk had to admit that the ghost girl surprised him. She seemed to be able to communicate with the primates without any problems, but even more astonishing was that the bloodthirsty, battle-seeking warriors had developed into tame gardeners under Perona's presence.
They still disappeared as quickly as they could the moment Mihawk approached them, but their former willingness to violence seemed little more than a fading memory.
Only now he noticed the younger's gaze.
"Is something wrong, Roronoa?"
But the other just grinned and went to the fireplace room, where he dropped on his favorite sofa and pulled out one of the books.
Mihawk did the same and settled on his armchair. By now Roronoa had translated the third book and Mihawk was missing only a few pages until the end, but he wanted to save them until later, so he read the newspaper first.
"Say," the younger one muttered abruptly, "you said yesterday that I would have to go to the baptism, but when is that? Will I still be here?"
Like a throbbing wound, there was no other way for Mihawk to describe the pain when Roronoa reminded him again that the current state would not last forever.
"You do not need to worry about that. In Jiroushin's family, children are traditionally baptized between six months and a year. It is long enough for your wound to heal well, but you will still be there."
Roronoa just nodded, turning back to his book.
Mihawk considered on continuing the conversation, but at that moment the door opened and a dirty Perona came in.
"Uhm, sorry." She bowed like a maid. "I do need some help."
"For what?"
To Mihawk's surprise, Roronoa quickly sat up, honest interest in his face.
"Oh, nothing important, the piece of garden that I have chosen is only very stony and I have some issues with the rake, therefore..."
"No problem, I'll help you."
"No, Roronoa." Mihawk had gotten up a second faster than the younger one and held him back with one hand. "I said you have to rest."
"But..."
"If it is so necessary, then I will lend her a hand."
"You?" Both Perona and Roronoa sounded surprised, but she raised both hands directly defensively. "Well, it's not that urgent..."
"Tze, after all, I am the Lord of this island, I will help you and you, Roronoa, you rest. "
"You're so annoying, I'm fine," the younger one grumbled.
"If you want to make yourself useful, you can translate the next book."
With these words he followed Perona, who seemed anything but enthusiastic, for once they seemed to share the same mood. He followed her through her garden, which belonged to him, and quietly confessed that it was indeed developing magnificently.
Until now, he had only entered the garden once, the day after returning from his journey from the G-2. Jiroushin and Roronoa had helped Perona from time to time, he had rejected this from the bottom of his heart. Mihawk did not think much of sweaty, dirty work and digging in the dirt was certainly not on his wish list.
Perona stopped at a small field and looked up shyly.
"Well, here it is."
To his right stood a small wooden wheelbarrow – which he had never seen in his life – with many potato tubers in it, beside it leaned rake, shovel, and other tools.
"Well, Perona, tell me what to do."
She looked at him with huge eyes and did not move at all. He was pleased to see that he could still intimidate her so easily. Luckily, Roronoa's boldness did not seem to rub off on her, pleasing Mihawk, indeed.
"I... I," she stammered, "I... shall give you... instructions?"
She trembled all over her body and Mihawk had to suppress a grin about her fear. However, he disliked the fact that she was right.
"Perona," he clearly called her by name, and she saluted like a soldier, "you are certainly aware that I am a son of a good family."
She nodded sharply.
"And as such, of course, I have never had to get my hands dirty on anything like gardening. So, if I am going to help you, you will have to explain to me how."
For a second nothing happened at all, then she took a deep breath and reached for an object that looked like an ugly fork.
"You have to loosen the ground with this bar spade. It's relatively firm and stony, so it's a bit difficult."
Mihawk took the tool from her and watched her take another fork, stepping on the field and forcibly smashing the tool into the ground and shaking it slightly. She repeated it several times, and also used her foot to help.
"You see, as simple as that."
He walked onto the field as well and followed her example, watching her how she grabbed the fork, and copying her. The work was not really exhausting, at least not for him, Perona seemed to see it a little differently, but he did not care.
In silence they continued to work, from time to time Mihawk also encountered harder resistance or stone, but he doubted that the young girl, who also worked diligently, would not be able to do it alone if necessary, after all she just did the same work, repeatedly picked up stones and threw them away.
"And for that you needed help?" He asked, pushing his fork deep into the ground again.
"To be honest, no."
Surprised, he looked up, but she quickly dodged his gaze. Embarrassed, she rubbed her forearm over her face, straightened her gloves, and then continued her work.
"You know, I actually do most of the work pretty good on my own. Of course, I'm much faster with the Humandrills, but actually I don't really need Zoro's help."
This confession infuriated him.
"So why are you stealing the time he needs to train?"
Frightened, she stared at him and took a few hurried steps back.
"Because he... because he..."
"Talk, I am not going to bite your head off." Gruff, he dug his fork back into the ground.
"Well, because he... because he enjoys it."
Once again, she surprised him.
Smiling quietly, she continued: "You've never worked in the garden, so you can't know, but it's incredibly good for the soul to work with the earth."
He dared to doubt that.
"Zoro always grumbles when I ask him for help, and he pretends to find it annoying, but he actually really likes it. We had a lot of fun with Jiroushin and laughed a lot."
She dared to look at him.
"Sometimes, when I feel that Zoro is getting too serious or brooding too much, I think about tasks that he could help me with. Because as soon as he has worked in the dirt for an hour and two, he starts to be happy."
For Mihawk, it all sounded like a nurse's tale, but he remembered well how willingly Roronoa had offered his help, even asked for it himself. Maybe she really was right. He looked thoughtfully at the fork in his hand, then nodded and continued his work.
Eventually, Perona put her fork aside and began to pull deep furrows with a small hoe where they had already loosened the ground.
With every minute that passed, Mihawk realized that this annoying, ugly work seemed somehow relaxing. He understood what the ghost girl had meant; it was a good job.
He watched Perona attentively as she tore wide, deep paths into the ground, throwing aside smaller and larger stones with an easiness he had not expected her to have.
Suddenly she looked up and stared at him with her round eyes.
"Is something wrong?" She asked, trembling immediately. "Did I do anything wrong?"
Shaking his head, Mihawk returned to work.
"I must confess, you surprise me, Perona," he admitted with a faint smile, pushing the fork deep into the ground, "you have changed a lot."
"You... you think?" With a quiet thump, her tool fell to the ground. "Thank you very much!"
He ignored her bowing.
"You should not thank me, girl, you yourself have gone this path."
After loosening the rest of the field, he looked for a tool similar to the one used by the ghost girl and imitated her work again.
"I didn't even realize I had changed that much," she muttered quietly behind him. "I always thought you couldn't stand me."
"I do not," he confirmed nonchalantly, without even looking up. "But my opinion of you does not change your development."
He felt her gaze and continued calmly: "When we met at first, you were a whiny, pampered brat, who wanted someone else to make the decisions and take responsibility for you. You were like a child who did not want to grow up and you relied too much on compassion and kindness of strangers."
She stuttered something behind his back.
"But then you decided to stay and decided to find an occupation here in this castle that makes you happy. You even befriended the Humandrills and somehow managed to make these dull warriors turn into even duller gardeners. Even though I may not like you, I can tolerate you much better than I used to."
When there was no reaction, he looked up.
Perona knelt behind him in the loose earth, the hoe in her lap, with trembling lips and tearful eyes.
"Stop looking at me like that," he rebuked more gently than intended, "it is a rational observation, no praise, so stop looking like it was."
She nodded, rubbed her eyes, and got up again.
"However, you are still a disappointment. You got into gardening and read all these books – by the way, if you borrow books from the library, please put them back in the right place – but still let your skills degenerate. What is the point of acquiring a devil's power if you do not use your abilities?"
Without waiting for an answer, he continued to work. Soon he had reached the last furrow and Perona began to plant the small potatoes from the wheelbarrow in the tracks. Again and again she snuffled and rubbed her eyes with the hem of her gloves.
But if he had hurt her, then it was not his problem.
When he got up and took the hoe away, she unexpectedly followed him and pressed a leaf rake into his hand.
"Put a light layer of soil over the potatoes, but make sure it's not too much and that you don't damage the potatoes," she explained, snuffing again.
He nodded and went back to the field.
"You know," she said behind him, and there was no trembling in her voice, "you changed quite a bit as well."
Slowly, he straightened up and turned to her as she allowed herself to judge him. She seemed to have noticed his gaze, as she raised both hands defensively, but much more impressive was that she was still looking at him.
"I'm pretty moved by the fact that you seem to have watched me so much and thought about me," she said.
Mihawk thought about explaining her that he was thinking a lot about everything and that her little figure was nothing special. His thoughts on her person had hardly been worth mentioning.
"But in the past you wouldn't have told me something nice, you probably wouldn't have helped me either, and even more I would never have been allowed to explain to you what you can do."
She was indeed right. Mihawk was well aware that Roronoa softened him. An unpleasant habit that he should abandon, but probably would not.
"I still think you're creepy," she finally said, "but somehow you've become kinder, and not just to Zoro, and Jiroushin told such funny stories about you " - that made him listen - " and so I'm really glad I stayed."
By now they were both working on and quickly they were done. Mihawk had to admit that it had been a pleasant job and he might even repeat it if necessary, but of course he did not say that out loud.
"Well, if that was all, I will take my leave."
Barely nodding, he turned to walk.
"Uhm, Dracule!" She rushed after him and bowed before him. "How could I improve my devil powers?"
Quietly, he clicked his tongue.
"I told you back then that..."
"I know!" She interrupted him hastily. "I know and I have read an incredible amount and thought a lot, but... but I can't get any further. In the beginning you helped me a little bit and I thought..."
He slightly tilted his head, but then she looked up and an unusual fire burned in her eyes.
"I used to have my cuddly toy army and here I have you and Zoro to protect me – " he did not even think of protecting her – "but the longer I watched Zoro, the more I want it. I want to get stronger! I do all the work in the garden myself, no matter how hard it is, because I also wanted to get physically stronger, but I don't know how to use my powers properly. So, I ask you, if you have an idea, just a thought that could help me, please tell me. I don't expect you to teach me or to take me by the hand, but..."
"Enough, stop chattering."
She bit her lower lip but remained silent.
"In order to be able to help you at all, I would need to know exactly which devil's fruit you ate. But I thought that I made myself clear that I am not interested in that."
He walked past her, sighing when she did not reply.
"So Perona, what is your devil's power?"
The sun behind the clouds was already dangerously close to the horizon when Mihawk came back into the fireplace room. Before that, he had spent several minutes in the kitchen washing away the dirt under his fingernails.
In the fireplace room, Roronoa cowered on the floor in front of his sofa. With a smile, Mihawk shook his head.
But when he approached the other, he noticed two things. First, paper and pens were spread around Roronoa, as well as one of his books. Second, Roronoa leaned against his sofa, an arm outstretched on the cushion, his head resting on one shoulder; the younger one had obviously fallen asleep.
For a moment, he looked at his little frog. It was these moments when Mihawk realized how young Roronoa was. This innocent facial expression, half hidden under the bandage, this almost naive confidence to simply lie here, completely relaxed to sleep.
Of course, there was no reason for Roronoa to be suspicious. Nothing could happen to him on this island, Mihawk would make sure of that, and yet this behavior was not self-evident for Mihawk, after all these months still not taken for granted.
He was supposed to leave the other there, maybe throw a blanket over him, but Mihawk could not. The position in which the other was cowering between his documents, like a small child who had fallen asleep while playing, could not be comfortable at all.
Sighing, he lifted the younger one up, bedded his head against his chest, and carried him to his room.
"You fool. Always making me worry about you."
