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Luffy spent the next day anxiously staring at the log pose, desperately waiting for it to reset for the next island. The rest of the crew huddled around him, with the log pose in the center. Watching Doflamingo's ship sail away was a sinking feeling, worrying when they would see Zoro again and wondering if he could even be saved. Robin had found no more information about the spore in her books, but the crew had to run on the hope that they could do something.
Finally, as the day restarted and the sun crept back over the horizon, the log pose was finally ready. The crew frantically prepared themselves to set sail as quickly as possible and launched into the open sea. Nami spent the next three days huddled over maps and shouting commands to try and gain as much time back as possible. The ship flew over the waves and caught every bit of wind, speeding with such an urgency they had never known.
The grueling and anxious journey came to a close as the strawhats approached the next island. From the ship, the island appeared fairly barren – a rocky husk of land with little vegetation around with no port or city in sight.
"It should take another few days to reset the log pose here" Nami stated, running through her calculations one more time.
"So, he should still be here…" Luffy said quietly. The crew looked at their captain, whose face had not shifted away from his serious dementor in days. "We've wasted enough time. Let's go get our swordsman back."
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As the crew began to wander through the island, they saw few signs of any kind of life. Usopp had spotted a slightly worn trail and they began to blindly follow it with no other hints as to where Zoro could be.
"Look!" Chopper shouted, "A town!"
In the distance, they saw a small gathering of houses. Picking up their pace, the group rushed towards it, hoping to find information about their missing member.
Instead – they found a massacre.
Hundreds of people lay around the town, their bodies soaked in blood. The town was silent. No screams, no cries, no bustle of a town. The straw hats stopped at the entrance of the village, their breaths held tight. The rocks of the village had been dyed red from the blood and it seemed to be everywhere, in every step that the crew took forward their shoes soaked in the blood. It was still fresh running from many of the bodies freely. Nami clasped her hands over her mouth a stifled a gasp. "These wounds…" Chopper cried out, "they're only a few hours old."
Slashes decorated every one of the bodies. Deep gashes and severed limbs marked the scene. Their cause of death was apparent.
"Look for survivors…" Luffy commanded, fists clenched staring at the death around him.
Chopper was the only to find one man left alive – just barely. The crew rushed around, desperate to know what had happened here but at the same time, not wanting to have their fears confirmed.
The man had a large slash across his chest and was bleeding out slowly. His ribs were exposed and every strained breath was clearly visible on the body.
"How did this happen?" Chopper asked. He held the man closely, realizing he may not have time left. It hurt him as a doctor to know he could not save him. The wound was too deep and the man had little life left in him.
Please.
"Out of… nowhere…" the man struggled out, blood dripping down his chin with each word.
Don't be him.
"A monster…"
Don't let it have gotten this far.
"He was a devil," The man continued, "The eyes" he coughed, spitting back more blood, "of a devil."
Please, don't be him. Not Zoro. Not Zoro!
The man clutched at Choppers fur, holding on and staring into his eyes "You must get out of here!" His fingers wove into Choppers fur, covering them heavily with blood. His eyes were mad with the last bit of life escaping from them. "We couldn't fight, we couldn't run, he was just there and then there was blood."
Any other swordsman. Not ours. Please.
With his last breath the man muttered, "The swordsman… I won't ever forget his face… the green hair and those devil eyes…" His eyes closed for the last and his body fell limp.
Zoro.
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Restless. That was the only word to describe his feeling as Zoro wiped his swords clean. He sat in his small room on Doflamingo's ship, cleaning each blade carefully with a cloth. His legs shook with agitation and his heart would not stop pounding. His arms ached. They ached to move, to wield, to act. He could feel his swords calling out to him and his body lusted to use them. It was not enough. No, it had not been enough. He still felt restless.
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Authors Note: A short chapter is better than no chapter. Next chapter will have more to it!