CHAPTER 8
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Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #953:
Roronoa came crawling back today. That was a surprise. But he surprised me even more after that. Seems like he managed to beat all the mad monkeys outside, and how he wants me to teach him. Teach him so that he can eventually beat me? It actually made me laugh. But he has determination; I'll give him that.
And maybe with him around, the ghost girl will go bother him instead of me.
… … …
Zoro got up and faced his teacher again. He much preferred using three swords but if Mihawk insisted that his single-sword style needed finessing before working on using all three, then fine! He'd show him! It was a cold, foggy night, but sweat still poured down his face. He ignored it and raised his sword once more.
"Don't hunch," said Mihawk.
"I'm not hunching! I'm –"
"Keeping your centre of gravity low, yes, yes. I'm not saying don't bend your knees or don't lean forwards to keep your balance. I'm saying: don't hunch. Square your shoulders and look up properly."
Not for the first time that day (or that week, even), Zoro wanted to hurl his sword at Mihawk. Maybe if he was lucky, it would strike him in the face or something. Unfortunately, the more likely outcome would be that Mihawk would catch the sword with unerring accuracy and then, as punishment for reacting immaturely, confiscate it for a week. That was what had happened with Wado Ichimonji two days before. Now he was using Shusui instead. Not having Wado Ichimonji in his possession made him twice as irritable, which did not help matters at all.
He thought he saw a gauzy white shape bobbing over the wall. One of Perona's ghosts? Where was it going?
The next thing he knew, something smashed into his side and he fell on the ground, all the air knocked out of him.
"If you don't pay attention, you give your opponent openings of all sorts," Mihawk said. Zoro grimaced with pain from where he lay curled on the ground.
"What was… That – that was unfair!" gasped Zoro. "That – wasn't sword-fighting."
"I suppose it wasn't." Mihawk slung his sword over his back. "But I did hit you with the hilt of my sword, so it could be called sword-fighting – in the loosest sense of the term."
Zoro struggled to a sitting position, trying to get his breath back. His left side hurt where Mihawk had struck him.
"The point," continued Mihawk, "is that when you give your opponent even a small chance, a wise one will take it. The specific weapon hardly matters."
"Duelling doesn't work that way!"
"Oh, so you'll always be sure to come up against another swordsman who is all about fair play?"
"I expect fair play from my teacher!"
"As your teacher, it is my duty to show you all possibilities that I can imagine."
Zoro had no appropriate retort to that.
Mihawk extended a hand to him. "We're done for today. Get up, Roronoa. It's probably just bruised. I don't think I broke any bones of yours."
When they got back to the castle, Mihawk went straight to his own quarters and left Zoro standing in the entrance hall on his own. Perona was nowhere to be seen – or heard. Zoro found that odd. And oddly annoying. Where was she when she was actually needed?
He made his way to the dining hall and helped himself to some of the wine in a bottle on a side table. Then he looked around to see if the first aid kit was anywhere in that room. It didn't seem to be, and that triggered another wave of irritation. Perona must've taken it up to her own room or kept it somewhere else. Why couldn't she put the first aid kit in the main shared space? It was common sense to put it in a place where it could be easily accessed! If she was older than he was, shouldn't she have more sense?
He turned around a bit too suddenly and the pain in his side at the movement just made him angrier. It was kind of her fault he was saddled with another injury now (minor though it was). If it hadn't been for that stupid ghost of hers appearing over the wall, he wouldn't have gotten distracted. She shouldn't be letting her ghosts wander about!
Something in the back of his mind prodded him and suggested that he was blaming her irrationally. He shoved the thought away.
He strode up the next flight of stairs to Perona's room and rapped loudly on her door. There was some shuffling sound in the room and then she opened the door.
Zoro was taken aback. Perona's hair was not up in its usual two tails. Her hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders and made her look quite different. Less of a girl and more… More of a woman?
"Where did you put the damned first aid kit?" was what he had meant to ask, but what came out was: "What the hell did you do to your hair?"
Perona stared. "You cannot have come here just to ask me that. What does my hair matter to you? For your information, I was about to go to bed. It's nearly midnight! What do you want?"
"Why'd you do that?"
A ghost poked its head through the door and giggled at Zoro.
"Do what?" said Perona.
"Do your hair like that."
"Huh? I haven't done anything to my hair! I prefer not to sleep with my hair all done up. What's wrong with you? What do you want?"
His actual purpose came back to him. "I wouldn't have needed to come up here if you'd left the first aid kit in the dining hall or somewhere easy to find!"
She blinked. Then she looked him up and down. "Are you hurt? You look fine. Is your injury in your brain? It must be."
"NO! It's just a bruise; he got me in the side." Zoro gestured vaguely at his torso. "Just give me whatever salve or lotion thing that's good for pain like this."
"Let me see."
Zoro took a step back. "No."
Without warning, she reached out and – with amazing accuracy – jabbed him with a finger in the bruised spot. He flinched and objected loudly to it.
"Ha, I knew it," she said. "What is wrong with you? You know Mihawk doesn't do things in halves! He could've fractured a rib or something. Let –"
"He said he probably didn't do more than bruise me. I'm going to take his word for it."
Perona gave him a funny look. "All right. If you want to take his word for it, why come here? You don't really need to put anything on a bruise."
Zoro was stumped. She was right. He'd been bruised more times than he could count and while some stuff did help alleviate the ache, there were many instances in which he'd let it be. So… Why had he felt like he really wanted to know where the first aid kit was?
She sighed, turned around and went into her room. He saw her rummage through the first aid kit and take out a small bottle filled with pale yellow liquid. She returned to the doorway and handed it to him.
"There," she said, "that's for pain relief and stiffness and such. Don't drink it. It's for you to apply over your skin; it's not to be ingested. I'm going to bed. Good night."
She shut the door in his face.
Zoro went to his room, muttering all the way about annoying personalities. He set Shusui down by the door, next to Sandai Kitetsu. He couldn't wait until Mihawk returned Wado Ichimonji. He'd feel a lot better when it was back in his possession.
He couldn't be bothered to turn on the ceiling lamps, so he merely flicked the switch on the tall standing lamp in a corner. Then he dropped into a chair, took off his shirt and proceeded to rub the ointment on the bruised patch, which was larger than he'd imagined it to be. It really did hurt. Damn Hawkeye.
He leaned back and took deep breaths. The ointment did help. It produced a slight cooling effect, which reduced the pain a little. The next day's training would really not be fun. If he was lucky, Mihawk would decide to take off somewhere by himself as he occasionally did, and let him rest for the day. But then, what was life without challenges? Pushing one's limits was good.
Ah. Should've brought that bottle of wine with me.
He could get up and retrieve it from the dining hall, but… At that moment he didn't feel like getting up. The exertion of the day was finally catching up to him.
He was almost asleep in his chair when several taps on his door startled him into full wakefulness.
"Who's there?" he snapped.
Perona stepped into the room, first aid kit in one hand. She wore a dressing gown tied with a fussy bow at her waist. And her hair was still loose. The sight was… Disconcerting.
"I didn't say you could come in," Zoro said, irritated.
"Should have locked your door then. Not that a door could stop me from coming in one way or another, if you think about it." She walked over to him and set the first aid kit on the table. She pointed to the bottle. "Did it help?"
He nodded, wondering why she'd shown up all of a sudden. Hadn't she been about to go to bed?
"Are you sure he didn't break anything?"
"I think I know when I have broken bones."
"You don't. You've got some strange thing in your head where you pretend every injury is the same minor bruise or scratch unless you actually see physical proof of it."
"Broken bones are pretty obvious!"
"They are to most normal people. You're not normal."
Perona looked thoughtfully at the bruise. "Pretty big bruise there." She took out a cold compress pouch. "I'll be right back. Just need to put some ice and cold water into this. Get a small towel or something in the meantime. And why don't you turn on more lights? It's so dark in here."
When she'd gone, he got up – slowly, so as not to aggravate the ache in his side – and opened several drawers before discovering a towel. It was a large bath towel but he didn't care. He tossed it onto the table and sat down again. He didn't bother with the lights. He was going to bed soon anyway. One lamp would do. The curtains were open anyway, and there was some moonlight coming in through the window.
Perona returned with the cold compress on a tray with a flask of water, a cup, and biscuits. Zoro realised suddenly that he was kind of hungry.
She looked around, sighed at the dim lighting but let it be. Seeing the towel he had chosen, she narrowed her eyes. "I said a 'small towel', not a bath towel. Oh, whatever. Wrap that around yourself or something. We're going to put the compress on the bruise, but best to have a layer of something in between."
"Weren't you going to sleep?" he asked, picking up the towel. He held it against his side and Perona pressed the cold compress over it.
"Here – hold it up yourself," she said. She removed her hand as he took over. "I was going to sleep, yes. But then it occurred to me that you wouldn't think to use a cold compress too. You can be rather hopeless at taking care of yourself." Perona looked pointedly at the shirt he'd tossed onto the floor earlier. "That's one example right there."
She was giving him a severe look but Zoro thought it was rather undermined by the distracting mass of pink hair. He was having contradicting feelings of both liking and disliking her hair that way. He blamed the vacillating emotions on tiredness after a long day of training with Mihawk.
"You were obviously crying out for help despite that stoic face of yours," continued Perona. "Otherwise why did you come all the way upstairs? Like I said, bruises don't really need particular treatment. If you were truly convinced that Mihawk had only given you a bruise, you wouldn't have bothered to do that."
There was that question again. He didn't like that question.
Perona pushed the tray towards him. "Knowing you, you're probably hungry. Eat."
He took a biscuit, expecting her to leave then. But she didn't. He looked at her. "Why are you still here?"
She drew up another chair and sat down. "Can't leave that cold compress on too long and if I'm not here to remind you, you're liable to leave it there the whole night."
"Fine." He helped himself to more biscuits. Then he remembered something – the white shape that had floated over the wall. "Hey, was one of your ghosts out there just now?"
"How many times do I have to tell you that they're called hollows, not ghosts? And out where?"
"Out over the castle walls. I thought I saw one going off there." He waved a hand vaguely to the left.
"I'm sure you're pointing in the wrong direction, given your magnificent talent in that department."
He gave her a dirty look. She returned it with a saccharine smile.
"I didn't send any hollow out," she said at last. "You must have imagined it. Or maybe you mistook a low-hanging cloud or something for it."
Now that she'd mentioned it, Zoro had to admit that it was possible he could've seen a particularly thick patch of fog and assumed it was one of her ghostly pets. He must be going mad if he was beginning to imagine things like that…
As if on cue, one popped into existence and hooted in his face. He growled in annoyance, flapping his free hand at it. His hand simply passed through it and it stayed there, grinning at him.
"That," said Perona, "is a hollow."
"I know."
"Just making sure."
"Oh, shut up."
Perona chuckled. The hollow floated across to her and circled her head. She looked at it affectionately.
"Anyone would think you like those things," muttered Zoro.
"Well, of course I do! They're practically a part of me." Another one appeared and joined the first in doing a ghostly jig on the ceiling. Perona watched them for a while with a little smile on her face.
Zoro likewise observed the hollows, but soon his gaze involuntarily moved to their mistress. The impression he'd had upon first seeing her with her hair down hadn't changed. She definitely looked much more womanly this way.
He felt his cheeks flush and he hurriedly pressed the cold compress to his face.
"What are you doing?"
He cursed his luck. That would be the exact moment Perona chose to look away from her hollows and back at him. He had to look stupid with the compress covering his face.
"I wanted to know what it felt like," he said, unable to come up with a better excuse. At least he wouldn't be looking red anymore – or if he still was, he could blame it on the cold compress. He removed it from his face and replaced it at the bruised spot.
Perona raised her eyebrows. "Okay."
She clearly didn't quite believe him but he thought it wiser not to say so or to defend himself further.
"How's the bruise feeling?" she asked.
"Cold."
"I shall take it to mean that it feels better."
The hollows drifted around her, hooting softly. One blew a raspberry at Zoro. He clenched a fist and muttered under his breath. Perona smiled and dismissed both hollows with a slight wave of her fingers.
He had been wondering for some time about that ability of hers. He asked, "Can you feel them? Your ghosts?"
"My hollows! They're called hollows."
"Okay, okay! Your hollows. Can you feel them?"
"I can feel them. Or not feel them. That is, I stop feeling the connection and I know that they've disappeared."
"Huh."
"I guess it's a bit like… A light switch? I know when they're there, and I know when they're not."
"You had this Devil Fruit a long time already?"
"Hmm." Perona closed her eyes, as if trying to recall. "About ten years… Maybe a bit longer? Moriah-sama gave it to me."
"How'd he know you liked ghosts?"
"He didn't. I didn't always like ghosts. I guess it just grew on me? I don't remember how he got it in the first place, but he just thought it would suit Thriller Bark and gave it to me. Moriah-sama was good to me. I miss him sometimes." She sighed.
"Why?" Zoro couldn't imagine missing that weirdo.
"Hey, he may have been your enemy, but Moriah-sama was almost like a father to me in some ways! He didn't give Devil Fruits to just anyone on his crew, you know. But, ugh, that fruit tasted horrible." She made a face. "I'd probably feel lost without this ability now. My hollows are such darlings – how could I not like them?"
Zoro could think of better, more accurate descriptions for them than "darling". He shifted in his seat and adjusted the position of the cold compress. It certainly did hurt much less now; there was only stiffness. He took another biscuit and popped it into his mouth.
Perona broke the silence after a minute. "I have a question."
"What?"
"Why are you putting yourself through this?"
He raised his eyebrows.
"Part of it is for your captain and crew, sure. I know that. But there's something else – why are you trying this hard?"
Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the exhaustion combined with the dull ache of the bruise and the taste of the biscuits. Maybe it was that he no longer considered her an enemy or a threat. Maybe… Well, whatever it was, he found himself telling her about the one thing he rarely mentioned to anyone else – Kuina.
He told her everything about the dojo and about Kuina.
"We made a promise," he explained. "We swore that one of us would become the greatest swordsman in the world someday."
"What happened then?"
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "She died."
"What?"
"She fell down some stairs and died."
If his eyes had been open, he would have seen the horror on Perona's face. But his eyes were closed, so he didn't. He merely carried on with his story.
Kuina had died. Zoro, young as he was at the time, took upon himself the burden of protecting and carrying out the promise. Wado Ichimonji was a representation of that promise. He hadn't been sure if Kuina's father would give it to him, but he had and in receiving Kuina's sword, Zoro had felt like it truly was on him now to fulfil their vow.
He would never – could never – forget it. It existed at the back of his mind at all times. Even if he wanted to forget it, Tashigi's existence pretty much ensured that he wouldn't.
"She looks almost exactly like Kuina. It's freaky."
There was a pause before Perona said, "That's the Smoker guy's lieutenant or something, right?"
"Yeah." Zoro opened his eyes. "Anyway, there. That's the answer to your question." He removed the compress from his side. "This isn't cold anymore," he said blandly.
"Did you expect it to stay cold forever?" She rolled her eyes and reached out to take it. "Give it here."
He handed it to her and straightened up in his chair, wincing only slightly as he did. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and gazed at the opposite wall. There were some slight rustling sounds as Perona returned the cold compress to the first aid kit.
The memory of Kuina on the night they made their promise lingered in his mind. She would have been strong – he was sure of it. If only she hadn't died…
"I will defeat him," said Zoro, more to himself than to Perona. And I will become the greatest swordsman in the world.
There was a click that told him Perona had closed the kit. Then several seconds of silence passed.
"You know," said Perona, "I think you just might."
That surprised him right out of his Kuina reverie. He turned to look at her.
She had risen from her seat, clearly about to leave. And she was standing in a spot that exactly allowed for the moonlight from the window to frame her in a pale grey light. The mental image of Kuina faded and he was struck by a funny, constricted feeling inside.
Zoro hurriedly turned away, confused by the sensation that had surfaced in that moment. He'd seen plenty of other attractive women in his life – heck, he'd lived on a ship in the company of Nico Robin – but this felt… Different? No, it probably wasn't. He'd simply never seen her look like that before. That was it. It was the hair. The hair and the moonlight. He was in shock from seeing her look like that and from saying something that sounded so sincere. He was tired too. Very tired. Definitely time to sleep.
… … …
Later, lying in her bed and staring at the sliver of the moon outside her window, Perona reflected on everything that Zoro had said. She hadn't expected a detailed answer from him. In fact, she had hardly expected a serious answer at all, let alone a detailed one. But he had surprised her.
And she had surprised herself as well. Her first instinct had been to tease him and say it'd take him a thousand years to beat Mihawk, but on seeing the gravity in his face, something had held the teasing mockery back. It had instead been replaced with the frank opinion that yes, she thought he could do it. Zoro was an idiot but… But he had drive, and she could respect that. And now that she knew the reason for his drive, it seemed even more likely that he could actually eventually learn to defeat Mihawk.
Well, the whole story certainly explained his preference for that particular sword, as well as his odd fixation on that article about Vice-Admiral Smoker. It wasn't so much about Smoker as it was about Tashigi. Tashigi, who looked like Kuina, who obsessed over swords like Kuina, and who was a walking, talking reminder of Kuina. Perona didn't know if she would get along with this Tashigi person, if they ever met.
She had gotten the impression that he hardly ever spoke of this. Did Mihawk know? She wasn't sure. Perhaps he didn't, since he was keeping that Wado Ichimonji sword as punishment. Or maybe he did know and he chose to keep that sword because it would be a strong punishment for Zoro.
… … …
Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #982:
Ghost Girl suggested today that I return the sword to Roronoa before the week is up. She seemed to think it important that he has it with him, even if he doesn't use it. How does she know and what does she know? I sense intrigue.
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A/N: This is probably my longest chapter to date though. It just didn't make sense to split it in two.
I know the gaps between the publication of chapters seem to be getting longer. But my workload is heavier at this time of the year than it was at the beginning so I haven't had as much time to dedicate to writing. And this chapter (and the next one) gave me a lot of trouble in terms of flow and balance. Thankfully, Namibean was there to give feedback and encouragement! (Thank you, Namibean 3 ) And re-reading all your reviews helped keep me going too, so thank you, everyone!