Author's note:
So… I have no idea how much language is allowed in a M rating and for some reason I imagine Zoro to have quite the foul mouth on him so, if this should be taken down, I upload on ao3 as well.
That being said I thank my beta Alyah727 and don't own anything you know of the original. Have fun and please leave a review!
A.
The sweat burned in his eye, the bandana no longer enough to keep it at bay. His boots bit into the ground as his muscles screamed for relief. The fuck was this guy made of? Lats and pecs straining he pushed his enemy away, but the tiny man did not even think of giving him enough time for one of his special attacks. His observation Haki not nearly enough to see through the random movements, he cursed as one of the opposing blades cut deeply into his right leg's quadriceps. Pain shot through his exhausted body, damn near blinding him for a moment. He grit his teeth, should have used Wado from the start, but who would have thought this little shit would turn out to be such a challenge? Broadening his stance he prepared for the next attack, nothing left than to hope for a chance to counter. His right leg was being sluggish, more so than his exhaustion or even the wound would allow for. Fucking ankle biter had his blades poisoned. He better finish this off quickly. The impact came sooner than he had hoped, driving him back several feet. Fucker could jump. He pushed him back again, leg giving way under their joined weight. Rat laughed at him "Is my little present bothering you, young man? Don't stress yourself too much, look what it did to your leg, you wouldn't want it to do the same thing to your respiratory system now would you?" Bitch.
Breathe. Let him talk. He closed his eye, forced his frantic heart to calm, last thing he needed to do was spreading the shit quicker than necessary. He tuned out the pain in his muscles, the ache in his joints and the poison's fire slowly traveling up his leg. Thing was useless now. Breathe. Guy laughed again. "Ah, by the way, before you get any bad ideas, if I were you I wouldn't even think about cutting your leg off. Now don't take it personally, it's just, I heard that you are prone to rash decisions. It might be that I mixed in some anticoagulant, by accident, of course." Fucking cunt!
Breathe. "When did you become this weak? Should I search for another master?" He huffed tightening his right hand around Shūsui's hilt. No, this half pint didn't stand a chance, fought dirty, that's all. Breathe. His heartbeat slowed. The enemy's chatter drowned out by Shūsui's stabs at his pride and Kitetsu's cry for blood. What might have scared his predecessors was a calming song to him. Breathe. He felt the upturned soil beneath his knuckles, it's softness under his left knee; the humidity pressing down on his bare back. Breathe. He smelled the flowers nearby, soothing the burn in his lungs. Breathe. He heard the silence of the nature around them and the screaming of its voice. Breathe. He saw his enemy.
Small and wiry, unbelievably quick but sloppy. He smirked, this would be over in seconds; or as soon as he could stand up. One final calculated breath and his left leg pushed him up, not a single muscle protesting against the strain; his body, his fucking rules.
"Oh look at that, you can stand? I really thought you've bled out there," the little man mused. He scoffed, "you'll know when I'm done, dipshit."
Intent, bright as day. He fell to the ground. Fingers tightening, arm flexing he set Kitetsu free. Blood showered him before he even hit the ground. Two halves of a body landed right behind him. Breathe. He pushed himself up, no time being weak after allowing the cursed blade such freedom. With a flick of his wrist he rid it from the blood, sheathing it and Shūsui in one smooth motion. With one big hand he wiped the foreign blood off his face, effectively spreading it to his green hair, and surveyed his surroundings. Nothing but grass and soil for miles, no trees, no bushes not even a goddamn rock. Where the fuck had the others run off to?
He scoffed, took Wado between his teeth, making a mental note to renew the tsuka-ito as soon as possible. Bending his working leg he drew the other blades. With a low grunt he propelled himself forward, performing the most sloppy Kokujo: Ō Tatsumaki since mastering the technique. The tornado ripped through the ground, catapulting chunks of the grassy earth into the air, tiny pebbles becoming deadly projectiles. There, that should get their attention. "Let them come to me", he thought as he forced his unresponsive leg into seiza position. There was no fucking way he'd crawl back to the ship so the shit cook could ladle it over his head for the next five years. He draped his sheathed blades over his lap and closed his eye, might as well get some meditation in.
Note:
I hope you enjoyed that one. I know last chapter Robin said Zoro's vocabulary was a bit limited, but I still think he is well versed in anatomy and even medicine, because how else could he have survived this long? What do you think? I try to keep them as much in character as possible, did I succeed?
Next time the crew will be back on the Sunny and things change. See you soon!