CHAPTER 13

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Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #962:

Roronoa grumbles a lot. He does not like being forced to stay in bed. Gets fractious and snaps at the Ghost Girl too. She may be whiny, but it must be said that she is a decent nurse. If, one of these days she falls ill, perhaps then he'll realise how much she's doing for him right now while he's laid up in bed.

… … …

Perona's ankle gradually improved over a week. But by then her ankle was the least worrying thing. Two days after they returned from Notson Ear, she complained over dinner of a headache and went to bed immediately after eating. The next morning she was quieter than usual over breakfast and ate very little. Mihawk noticed it, and so did Zoro.

"What's with you?" Zoro asked.

"Just tired," she said. "That's the third time you've asked me that. Quit it already."

Mihawk observed her slightly flushed face, her damp brow, and the way her hand shook ever so slightly when she picked up her cup. "I think," he said, "you had best return to bed after breakfast."

By nightfall, Mihawk decided that she had the Southern Flu. Perona groaned and turned over in bed, mumbling something that sounded like "Oh, just great." Two small hollows hovered close by, looking concerned.

Zoro, looking from Perona to Mihawk, said, "What's that?"

"Viral infection. She has the symptoms – fluctuating temperature, throbbing headaches, trembling hands."

"Aching bones," muttered Perona from under the blanket.

"That too," agreed Mihawk. "Sometimes there's coughing as well. You probably caught it from somewhere in town or in that prison cell."

Zoro stiffened. He threw Perona an uneasy glance. "Is it… Bad?"

Mihawk was about to answer but then Perona sat up and started to get out of bed.

"Feels bad right now," she said. "Ugh, I need water."

Mihawk stopped her with a finger to her forehead. "Stay where you are. Roronoa will fetch water for you." He turned to Zoro. "You will bring her the things she needs. Don't argue with me – you will do it. Water, for a start. And I will see if there is appropriate medicine in the cabinet downstairs."

After that, Perona spent most of her time sleeping. When she was awake, she complained of a low throbbing headache. When she picked things up, sometimes her hands were steady, and sometimes they shook so badly she'd drop whatever she was holding. The coughing made an appearance as well.

Mihawk had expected that. The Southern Flu usually got worse before it got better. He knew it from experience. But apparently Zoro had no experience with the illness and watching her really bothered him. He grumbled about having to "play nursemaid" and having it cut into his training time (which it hardly did on the whole) and seemed as surly as ever. Mihawk suspected that he wasn't as unconcerned or as irritated about the whole thing as he pretended to be. When they were eating their meals in the dining hall, Zoro twitched and his eyes darted to the door if he thought he heard a sound that could be a cough or a voice. He complained about having to go up and down to bring her food and drink but he still did it – and did it without Mihawk having to kick him up the stairs.

It was even affecting his concentration during training. Zoro had been recently permitted to use two swords instead of just one when they sparred, as Mihawk judged him to have reached acceptable levels of using one sword. This had at first been tremendously motivating to Zoro – he was fond of his two- and three-sword styles, and having to stick to using just one for so long had grated on him. The delight he took in it added to his enthusiasm, his speed, and his energy. But now he was noticeably distracted.

Mihawk knocked Shusui out of his right hand and Zoro watched numbly as the sword spun through the air and landed blade-first in the soil several metres away.

"You are not concentrating," Mihawk said.

Zoro stomped over to retrieve Shusui. "I am concentrating!"

"Not in the right way."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Mihawk met Zoro's fierce glower with a cool gaze. "You clearly have something else on your mind, Roronoa. And you are regressing as a result. You haven't let me disarm you in weeks."

He sat down on a rock in the shade and indicated that Zoro should seat himself somewhere. Zoro chose to sit cross-legged on the ground and stared sulkily at the swords in his lap.

"What is bothering you?"

"None of your damn business."

"True. It is your business. But it is also your business to learn how to defeat me, is it not? You are not doing that very well at the moment."

Zoro had no reply to that.

Then Mihawk said, "The Southern Flu is temporarily debilitating, but it is not life-threatening. It usually takes a week or two, but hardly anyone dies of it."

Zoro shot him a sharp look. "I didn't say I thought she was going to die!"

"Your face is saying what your mouth is not."

The response he got was a scowl.

Later, after sending Zoro up to Perona's room with her meal on a tray, Mihawk wondered if Zoro realised that he hadn't refuted the suggestion that his distracted state was connected to her. Probably not.

Well, let's see if anything interesting will come out of this.

… … …

Perona ate in a despondent mood. The headache had lessened, but her hands had started trembling again so she had to eat rather slowly in order to not spill the soup or drop anything on the floor or on her bed. Being sick was really not fun.

She finished her food and tried to resume reading The Ghouls of the Grand Line. But reading was quite a trial with shaky hands. She gave up after two pages, half feeling like tossing the book out the window.

Of course, it wasn't just the book thing. She knew that very well.

He's an idiot. I shouldn't waste my time on him. Stupid feelings.

Zoro had brought her food earlier, nodded at her thanks, and left abruptly. He'd been doing that for some days now, and it puzzled and hurt her. He didn't seem to want to look at her. Was it because she was sick? Did sickness put him off that much? Perhaps the wonderful Kuina never fell ill, she thought bitterly.

A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts. She hurriedly pressed the blanket to the cheek where several tears had made their way down her face, and flipped the book open again to a random page. She didn't want him to think she'd been sitting there crying. It would be awful if he asked why – she wouldn't be able to tell him the reasons for it. She could always just negative-hollow him if he did though…

Zoro came into the room. Perona nodded in the direction of the empty plates on the tray, saying, "I'm done. Thanks."

He stopped several feet away from her bed, hands in his pockets and an odd expression on his downturned face.

She blinked at him. "What?"

Zoro held his hand out towards the book in her lap. "Give me that."

"Huh?" Perona passed it to him with a dubious look. "Why?"

He drew up a chair, sat down and started turning the pages. "I'll read to you."

"Read… Read aloud? Why?"

… … …

Zoro forced himself to meet her eyes. Looking at her discomfited him. Looking at her showed him how unwell she was, and that heightened his mixed emotions. There was frustration, there was guilt. There was foolishness. Anger. Dismay. Even irrelevance.

Not being able to save anyone from Kuma at Sabaody was one thing – the man was a Warlord with a strange and powerful Devil Fruit ability; even Mihawk might have a tricky time of it. It was frustrating in a different way. But not being able to rescue Perona from mere Marines? That was a totally different scenario and the only reason he hadn't been able to help her was because he'd gotten lost. Of all the stupid reasons!

To top it all off, she was sick now, and that too was a result of that mess.

He scratched the back of his neck. "Just thought… It's probably hard to read when you have a headache, right? And when your hands are shaking like that."

"It is, but –"

"So I'll do the reading. When you find it hard because of headaches or whatever."

She was speechless. Zoro decided that the book was a much safer object of attention at that moment and resumed his idle turning of pages.

He had expected some surprise from her. He'd surprised himself too. The seed of that idea had lodged itself in his brain earlier when he'd brought her food. The book had been in her lap, and her fingers pressed her forehead as if trying to stave off pain. The seed had taken root and during the hour he'd spent brooding on the ramparts, it had sprouted into this idea of reading to her. It wasn't altogether natural to him, but he simply had to do something. The guilt over the incident with the Marines at Notson Ear Island was eating at him in most inconvenient ways. This had seemed to him like appropriate penance.

"Did you fall down the stairs and hit your head?"

Her question shifted the mood back into familiar territory and he immediately felt calmer. He retorted, "What? You think I can't do things for people just to be nice?"

"You usually don't."

"Well, I can," he said defensively. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

Perona was regarding him contemplatively. He found it difficult to meet her gaze squarely without squirming. If her hair wasn't let down it would be easier. She always did look more attractive with her hair down… And had her eyes always been that dark?

After another moment of silence, she said, "I guess I wouldn't mind that."

She hadn't laughed at him, and she hadn't pushed him away either. It felt as though a heavy burden was lifted from his mind. Odd. He hadn't even known it was weighing on him.

"Are you sure you can manage that book?" she asked. "It's in kanji –"

"You've made me read this book about a million times."

"I have not!"

"Felt like a million." He shrugged. "If I get stuck, you'll just have to tell me what it says. I should think you have it memorised by now. Besides, I haven't had a lesson in some time. This is as good a method as any, I guess. Where do you want me to start?"

.

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A/N: Thank you for waiting, and thank you for reading! To the followers of this story, I hope you're still enjoying it!