Chapter 2
Zoro quickly learned that excitement is a powerful factor of obliteration. Not only had he managed to choke down a horrible—though slightly more tolerable—meal prepared by Perona, but he had also found his way back to the castle's main entrance with little trouble. Mihawk had walked with him back to the dining room and lingered just long enough to demand the princess's presence for Zoro's training. Despite her objections, Perona had agreed, and the younger two residents found themselves waiting for the eldest just outside the monstrous castle doors.
The early afternoon sun leaked through the dreary overcast, a welcome sight to the young swordsman. He sat cross-legged, his back against cool stone and his face upturned to warm sun. Across his lap sat his three swords, each scabbard and hand-guard catching and tossing the sunlight. A stiff breeze puffed across the yard, barely shifting the hairs on the man's head or the fabric of his pants.
Perona was floating about, inspecting the yard with growing disdain. Ancient stones, though well built and placed, were worn smooth around the edges and would crumble under too rough a touch. Grasses and weeds forced their way through bricks and masonry, eroding the paths and walls from the inside out. The princess glided over to where Zoro sat, a complaint ready on her tongue when she noticed something about him.
"Why are you half naked?"
The young swordsman cracked an eye open, looking at Perona with mild confusion.
"When did you get here?"
The girl scowled.
"I've been out here longer than you have," she replied angrily, getting right up in his face.
Zoro was about to retort when one of the princess's ghosts sidled up beside her threateningly. Instead, the swordsman's face took on a look of annoyed indignation as he replied, "I always train like this."
Perona backed up slightly, with something like disgust on her face. "How uncute," she pouted, "You could at least be decent in front of a lady."
Zoro's faced morphed, confusion taking the place of indignation. "It's not like I'm completely naked."
A hollow thud resonated in the air, becoming a low hum that lingered in stone and bone. Mihawk stood just before the doors, his face obscured in the shade of his hat. Once the sound had faded, the shichibukai stepped forward silently, striding across the yard with his crimson coat rippling subtly around him.
Teacher towered above student, with the younger man deftly holding the gaze of the elder as he rose. Though Zoro said nothing, he asked his most burning question with eager eyes. The shichibukai scanned the younger man's face, looking for nothing in particular but still managing to find himself growing mildly impatient about something. Mihawk finally pulled his eyes from his student's face as he glanced at the young pirate's swords.
"You only need one of your weapons for now," he said. With an almost silent turn on his heel, Mihawk faced Perona, who floated several feet away. "I want you," the shichibukai commanded her, "To take one of Roronoa's blades."
Before the girl could object, Zoro spoke up.
"Why does she need it?"
The elder swordsman's eye twitched ever so slightly, but he replied while staring down the princess, "Because she will be helping you with this lesson."
Carefully, the student gave his weapons a twice-over before begrudgingly stepping forward. His annoyance could be heard in his gait, a kind of dull thud on the old stones, and as the young man held out Shusui, Perona gave him a disdainful look.
"I'm not taking that," she said shortly.
Zoro's annoyance was echoed on his face.
"Why not?"
The ghost girl's eyes flicked in Mihawk's direction long enough for the shichibukai to catch her gaze before she hastily returned it to the younger swordsman's face.
"I can't hold it," she snapped, her arms folding high across her chest. Zoro scowled and thrust the sword forward, but the girl didn't even flinch. His arm passed without difficulty right into her ribcage and was obscured by her form up to his elbow.
"-The hell?" Zoro gave his arm a mildly confused look. A weak recollection of something Usopp had mentioned a while back surfaced in his mind, the shadowy memory linking to the moment at hand by an old, rusted chain.
"Told you I can't hold it," Perona huffed, floating backwards a bit.
"Perhaps," Mihawk said, unmoving, "You should make it so that you can hold the weapon."
The girl's eyes widened slightly, and she was gone in a heartbeat, passing through the large double doors at a pace that would have knocked a solid being unconscious.
Neither of the remaining men spoke as Zoro slowly let his hand drop back to his side. The silence settled in the princess's wake, creating a wall more solid than any of those in the castle. Mihawk watched as his student quietly sat, the weak clank of metal on stone magnified by the silence. Like a beast in a cage, the pull would not settle, sharpening the elder swordsman's perception to frustrating levels. Each strand of green hair wavered invitingly in the miniscule breeze, and the sun glanced off of bronzed skin like a spear off armor. It was enough to make Mihawk tense, though he still couldn't quite figure as to why.
Zoro sat with his back to his teacher, a habit the shichibukai knew he was going to have to beat out of the boy. Mihawk took a single step forward, to begin that long process, but he stopped. His gut struggled, heaving at him, trying—but failing—to force the elder swordsman closer. Something wasn't quite settling right, making the stoic shichibukai uneasy enough that he froze in place. It was something about how the rare sunlight brought the sharp contrast of Zoro's muscles into focus. Or perhaps it was the easy, relaxed posture that the younger man had, one that radiated comfort and peace. Maybe it was the way the pirate's swords lay by their master's side, gleaming like the fangs of dogs in the sun.
Whatever it was, the feeling was enough to stop the shichibukai.
As Mihawk silently contemplated in the wavering air, his student sat. Though he was quiet, the small remnants of a smile flickered on the young pirate's face. Small tremors of excitement coursed through him, the same ones that always came whenever he took on a powerful opponent. Zoro could feel his mind carefully blanking, choosing which information would be necessary and putting the rest aside under lock and key for when it would be useful.
Moodily, the castle doors flung themselves away from Perona as she stomped back into the courtyard. Mihawk twitched in annoyance while his student scrambled to his feet eagerly. Despite the fact that she was solid, the princess seemed less substantial. She sulked towards Zoro and flung her hand out, scowling as she did so. His tiny smile flickered out of existence, and the swordsman thought a second before reluctantly handing white Wado Ichimonji to Perona and taking up Shusui for himself.
The two of them looked to Mihawk, who by then had silently positioned himself at the edge of the courtyard. For a moment the shichibukai was silent, surveying the two of them before explaining the lesson.
"You are to fight," he stated bluntly, subtly folding his arms under his coat.
Perona's eyebrow tentatively raised, and her mouth hung comically open. A small, confused noise flopped quietly out, and was overshadowed by the scrape of metal. Opposite her, Zoro settled the scabbard back on his hip and stood confidently with the blade loose in his hand.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Perona screeched at Mihawk, "What do you mean 'fight'? Why aren't you teaching him?"
The shichibukai felt his eye twitch, but he managed to control himself enough to speak levelly. "I am of no help for this lesson."
"What lesson? What is he learning from this?" the princess demanded, chucking the blade to the ground in a protesting clatter. Zoro practically dived for Ichimonji. Fuming, the girl stomped towards the castle and had nearly reached the doors when Mihawk's voice rumbled across the courtyard.
"Stop."
With a hand to the door Perona froze. Again, a tiny wind blew through, breezily ignoring the heavy atmosphere between the three pirates. The shichibukai's arms unfolded and hid among the folds of his coat before he took a single, heavy step forward. It was followed by several others until Mihawk was standing next to Zoro. The teacher said nothing as he held out his hand, and gingerly the younger swordsman handed him the weapon.
Perona simply stood, her hand reaching out for the door almost desperately. Silently, the shichibukai approached her and stopped an arm's length away. Nothing was said as he held out the white blade.
As slowly as possible the spectral girl turned, trying to avoid the pirate warlord's piercing stare for as long as she possibly could. Once her periphery caught the hint of gold she was pulled in, as hopeless as light being dragged into a black hole.
In her hand was the white sword before she knew it, and the retreating shift of crimson was depressingly unresponsive. Feebly, Perona returned to where she had been standing before Zoro. With shifty, pleading eyes she turned to Mihawk, but once she met his gaze, the princess limply drew the sword, uncertain of what to do with the scabbard. An awkward shuffle ensued while Perona tried to find a place for the item before Zoro snatched the scabbard from her and settled it on his own hip.
Again, the young swordsman took up a fighting stance, his feet spread wide and solid. Perona emulated him weakly, her limbs stiff. Another breeze crept by.
In a flash of light Zoro struck, and the bark of metal rolled across the courtyard. The force of the blow rattled through the spectral girl and she staggered. Once more the swordsman struck, but again he was denied and the swords screeched again. Perona retreated slowly, one wobbling step for each powerful strike, until her heels were scraping against the door.
Slick with sweat and muscles aching from tension, the princess could no longer handle the strain of her fear.
Before Zoro could land his next attack, his own blade reached out to nick his side. The swordsman leaped out of range before he could get hurt, quickly assessing the situation before taking another swing. Perona barely dodged, getting the bulk of her flesh out of the way but losing part of her dress to Shusui.
In a streak of translucent white one of the girl's ghosts shot out, connecting with Zoro's chest in a way that seemed solid. The swordsman staggered back as though he had been hit by a bullet and fell to his hands and knees before Perona's feet.
"I'm an insignificant bug," he lamented to the dirt.
Mihawk's eyebrows shot up and his arms unfolded slightly as he watched the one-eighty in his student's actions.
Shrilly, Perona cried out, "You ruined it!" The gash in her dress was emphasized by the way she held it. "You dick, you ruined it! Oh, this is so uncute," she whined, stamping her feet a little and dropping the sword.
The shichibukai couldn't help himself: he sighed at the farce unfolding before him. Mihawk approached in a swirl of red and towered over the younger pirates. Perona glared viciously at him while Zoro groaned something about being lowlier than the dirt he was slumped across.
"You may go," the elder swordsman addressed the spectral girl.
"But-"
"Go."
Perona sulked away, slamming the bulky doors behind her as best as she could.
Mihawk's attention returned to his sniveling student.
"Get up," the shichibukai demanded, his arms folding again.
Zoro didn't respond.
"Now, Roronoa."
The younger swordsman muttered something unintelligible.
"What was that?" Mihawk rumbled.
Slowly, Zoro looked up. His eyes pleaded as he said, "But I'm nothing."
Something clenched in the shichibukai's torso, though he wasn't sure what or where exactly. His arms unfolded without notice, and the overwhelming desire to reassure struck the older swordsman so solidly that his face twitched in sympathy. He almost knelt beside the younger pirate.
"Rise," Mihawk commanded, "You shouldn't be at me feet."
Confusion obliterated the ghost's influence over Zoro and he obeyed slowly, gathering his blades as he did so.
"What have you learned from this exercise?"
The student remained dumb as he avoided his teacher's gaze.
"What have you learned?"
Hesitantly, Zoro mumbled, "Nothing."
Inwardly, Mihawk sighed.
"I want you to go and meditate with your blades. We will try this again tomorrow."
The shichibukai opened the door and ushered the younger pirate inside before following. The quiet tap of boots echoed down the hall, uninterrupted by speech. As they came to the large hall where the major corridors split off, Zoro started silently down one of them.
"Roronoa," Mihawk said quietly, his voice reverberating off of the walls. The student stopped, but didn't turn. "I refuse to teach those without potential, Roronoa. Remember that."
The shichibukai disappeared down the hall, on his way towards the library.
After what seemed like an eternity and a half, Zoro finally found his way back to his room. He sulked inside and plopped down on the bed, which squeaked in protest. His three swords jabbed him in the hip, and he fumbled them free. The weak light that came through the grimy window glimmered on the hand guard of Wado Ichimonji and caught the swordsman's eye.
Zoro hefted the sword up to his face and eyed it. He was still a bit baffled by Mihawk's words: the younger man's meditations have always been introspective. That was how meditation worked, and it couldn't be expanded to the world beyond—or could it?
Ichimonji found itself settled gently across its master's lap. The young swordsman crossed his legs, his boots grinding dirt into the blanket. Zoro's eyes closed, cutting off his most distracting sense and letting his mind wander.
Instantly, the scent of the castle came to the young swordsman's attention. The first thing that sprang into Zoro's mind was a cellar: a smothering, damp atmosphere like being trapped inside a bottle full of fog. The young pirate was surprised he forgot that this castle had such an enveloping air—it had stifled him when he first arrived.
In the thick atmosphere, Ichimonji's familiar weight on the swordsman's lap was comforting and still warm from being on its master's hip. Zoro's hand rested lightly on the sword's scabbard, feeling each smooth decoration along the metal.
Somewhere in the distance, a door creaked open and clicked shut. Footsteps approached, and vaguely the swordsman hoped they would pass by his room.
They didn't.
"You're going to fix this," Perona stated bluntly.
Zoro refused to open his eyes. Footsteps approached, and the girl's soft breathing could be heard inches from his face. The swordsman's countenance didn't even twitch.
"Hey," she insisted, "You're going to fix this, prick."
Again, Zoro refused to let his face move. In an eruption of sound, stinging pain blasted across the swordsman's face. His eyes snapped open and he glared up into Perona's face, which easily matched his anger and annoyance.
"Why do I have to fix it?" he growled.
"Because you ruined it to begin with," the princess snapped, showcasing the hole in her dress that raggedly displayed her stomach.
"You should have backed off faster," the swordsman mumbled, avoiding the fact that he couldn't sew a stitch.
"How was I supposed to know? I've never use a sword before stupid!" Perona screeched, her face livid. Zoro flinched a little at the noise and wondered vaguely at how close the girl was to unleashing her ghosts.
"Well, I'm not fixing something that wasn't my fault," he muttered before closing his eyes again and trying to get back to his meditation. Anger radiated off of the girl, and she tried several more times to prod Zoro back into the world, but he ignored her and clung fiercely to Ichimonji as he did so.
Finally, Perona sulked away.
The swordsman returned to his meditation in earnest, reflecting on each of his blades and his own past. He thought about his family, his old teacher and friends. Zoro's mind rested on Kuina.
When he thought about it, hers was the only sword that was still with him after casting off from home. It had lived through several shichibukai, revolutionaries, Devil Fruit users, Pasifistas, and his near-death on several occasions. In all likelihood, the blade would outlast him. Ichimonji had proven itself loyal and strong, through the most trying of times—it had even stood up to Mihawk with him and came away still in one piece.
It was like Kuina had never left.
Slowly, Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the blade. His mind went blank, and he simply absorbed information: the way the dull light glimmered weakly; the texture and weight of the sword; a shadow stretching in from the doorway.
Mihawk stood propped against the door jamb, watching his student with a masked face that was no longer hidden by his hat. Zoro could feel his face grow warm as he scrambled to his feet. Hastily, the younger pirate shoved his three swords into his haramaki.
"You haven't risen just because I'm here, I presume," the teacher mused. Zoro blinked.
"Why are you here?" the younger swordsman asked bluntly.
Mihawk gave his student a quick once-over before responding. "I simply came to see how your meditations were going. Have you learned anything about your swords?"
Zoro's confusion was clear.
"You haven't really given me shit for instruction," he pointed out.
"I told you to meditate."
The younger pirate snorted. Mihawk felt his eyes twitch, and he lazily rolled off of the door jamb, standing a full head taller than his student. Zoro looked defiantly up into his eyes, and the shichibukai could feel that thing in his stomach becoming restless.
"Do you even know what sex each blade is?" Mihawk managed to ask quietly. The younger pirate's stare wavered a bit.
"Why is that important?" he asked, the edge in his voice obvious.
The shichibukai frowned and his eyes narrowed. Slowly, his hand rose and he firmly drew Kogatana. He came in close, with his nose about three inches from Zoro's, and between the two of them he held the small blade.
"This is Kogatana. I believe the two of you have met?"
Again, the student's gaze wavered a bit, but he managed to not break eye contact.
"Yeah," Zoro grunted.
"He," the shichibukai motioned with the blade, "would be more than indignant if I were to call him a woman. Koga is too proud to be humiliated in such a fashion. Do you understand?"
Though he was a little unsteady on the point, the younger pirate nodded.
"All blades are like this, just like humans. If you aren't familiar with your swords, how can you expect them to fight alongside you?"
"So they're like any other ally?"
Mihawk nodded, a small smile lighting his face.
"Then why have me fight the ghost girl?" Zoro grumbled.
"That is another basic lesson you must learn as a swordsman."
Zoro raised an eyebrow in confusion. The only thing he had learned was to stay far from Perona's ghosts, and even that was only a refresher.
"I don't get it."
The shichibukai heaved a sigh somewhere in the back of his mind. "I'm afraid you've got to find the answer for yourself."
Mihawk turned and left silently down the hall, with Zoro unable to think of anything to stop him.
Five days later, Perona was really starting to get sick of the daily routine. Each morning, before the sky had shifted into its normal steely grey, Mihawk would rap on her door and wake her. She was beginning to doubt that the man even slept. Then he would rouse Zoro, who always seemed so frustratingly chipper in the morning. They would both be hustled through the halls of the castle and out the door without so much as a hack at the bathroom.
Then they would spar.
The ghost girl glared blearily at the shichibukai as he watched over them. Today, he decided to perch up on the wall, like some disapproving monarch.
Like the days before, Zoro was obviously too much of a match with the sword. And also like the days before, Perona found herself extremely hard-pressed to defend herself.
But unlike the days before, her ghosts weren't an option.
"Damn him for threatening me," the spectral girl muttered as she blocked another strike from Zoro and glared at Mihawk. The shichibukai stared impassively down as the younger pirates sparred. Perona could feel his gaze on her back as the younger swordsman fighting her forced her to turn just to avoid the steel of his blade.
This was going nowhere much too quickly.
Something had to be done, or the spectral girl would find herself disarmed with her back against the wall again; however, the dark implications of Mihawk's words from a few nights back were still fresh in her mind, and she was less than keen to try his patience.
Perona clumsily deflected another blow and shuffled awkwardly to the side, tripping a little on a rock as she did. Zoro was quick with another swipe to her thighs and she jumped back with a squeak. Again, something caught the princess's foot and she tripped, bringing her leg up in an undignified fashion as she fell. Her borrowed sword clattered away and she landed painfully on her elbows and ass.
It took the girl a good couple of second before she realized her shabby, poorly-mended dress had ridden up farther than a lady's dress should go.
"Get back!" she cried, lashing out with her most available foot. Perona pulled herself back hastily and stretched her dress firmly over her legs before shooting a poisonous look in Zoro's direction.
The young swordsman was having his own issues.
Only a few times in his life had he felt such immense pain, and now two of them had been witnessed by Mihawk. Shusui clanged to the ground beside him as he dropped to his knees, gagging fiercely. Somehow, he was pretty sure he pissed himself, but he wasn't quite sure if he'd find just urine or blood as well. It didn't matter though: all there was was agony.
A strong hand hefted Zoro to his feet, causing the young swordsman to accidentally chafe his scrotum in a way that sent another wave of pain crashing into him. He gagged again. Some one was making him walk—was dragging him—and he feebly thought of his dropped weapon. The haze of pain was too great, though, and quickly his thoughts were enveloped by throbbing agony in his groin.
Zoro smelt the atmosphere of the castle as he was hustled along, and felt himself being pulled this way and that around corners. Teacher and girl could be sensed to either side, but the swordsman couldn't really see them. Just like in so many of his most grueling battles, he was coherent but not necessarily part of the world. The haze became a gauzy curtain, and he couldn't pull it aside.
After a while the fog over his sensibility started to lift, and Zoro noticed candle light somewhere nearby. He groaned and sat up with a dull protest from his nether regions.
"Finally you wake up," snorted a female voice.
"The hell—?" the swordsman heard himself ask.
"I didn't even kick you that hard," Perona complained, "And Mihawk jumps on my ass like I'm the one that fucked up! Moriah wouldn't have pulled this shit on me." She turned and faced her pouting countenance to Zoro. "And the way you dropped—so uncute!"
"What shit?" he asked groggily. The haze was still obscuring what had screwed with him so badly.
"Wouldn't you like to know," she snorted.
"I would," the swordsman grunted, starting to remember what was the origin of his agony.
Perona sighed and turned her back again, muttering loudly enough so that the other pirate could hear, "First he tells me not to use my ghosts, then he tells me not to kick you! How's he expect me to defend myself? With that sword?"
"You've been doing pretty well with her, though," Zoro said. The princess whipped around and glared at him incredulously.
"Pretty well? That's an overstatement," she retorted.
"Better than you have been," the young pirate rectified.
Perona grunted spitefully.
Zoro gave up—if the bitch wasn't going to accept the compliment, then fuck her.
Something in the back of his head floated out of the haze: a memory from before his crew had crossed into the Grand Line.
It was an image of Luffy, hacking away at Aronlg with a pair of borrowed swords. It was more than obvious that he had no clue what to do with the weapons, and yet he still kept swinging. The captain had done it to prove a point—to show that he wasn't capable, and that a true swordsman was necessary in his crew.
Zoro's eyes snapped all the way open and his eyebrows shot up. Fiercely he kicked the blanket off of him—ignoring the jab of pain in his groin—and staggered out of the bed.
"Thanks," he called to Perona as he ripped out the door and down the hall.
Settled comfortably in his chair, Mihawk was polishing off the wine he had had with dinner. It was quiet, much more so than it had been for the rest of the week. Zoro was still under Perona's care—apparently she had hit her mark successfully.
The shichibukai shuddered slightly. He had heard that strike, and something about the pain in Zoro's face had made the pull flare up. Vaguely, the swordsman wondered if that had been because of the sympathetic pain any man would feel in that situation. That had to have been it.
After another second of contemplation, Mihawk knew that was a lie.
Eager—if staggered—footsteps came rushing down the hall. The shichibukai sighed.
As the door was flung open, he asked, "What have I told you about listening to your body?"
Zoro stopped short, skidding to a barefoot halt. His face was reminiscent to a dejected puppy's for an instant before flashing back into radiance.
"I've got it," he shouted excitedly, trotting over to Mihawk. The shichibukai cocked an eyebrow, but the tiniest hint of a smile curved his lips.
"So?"
"So you want me to fight someone without experience," he said.
The teacher considered the answer given.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why?" Zoro's face dropped in disappointment.
"Yes," Mihawk replied, "Why would I want you to fight someone with no experience?"
The younger swordsman's shoulders slumped and he said nothing.
"When you have that answer for me, come back," the shichibukai said, finishing his wine and rising. Again, he was able to leave without hindrance, and when he returned to the dining room a good ten minutes later, Mihawk found it deserted. He strode silently out, wandering the halls.
There was a small amount of levity in the atmosphere of the castle, one he hadn't felt during his entire stay. It seemed to make the shadows less oppressive, and the air just a little less weighty. The feeling was unsettling, and for some reason the shichibukai found himself wandering in the direction of his 'guests' rooms. He made sure to tread silently, and before long he found himself standing at the edge of the light pouring from Zoro's room. Inside, the young swordsman could be heard muttering to himself, puzzling out the answer to his teacher's question.
Perona popped out of her room, and instinctively the shichibukai ducked into one of the empty rooms before she noticed him. From where he hid in she shadows, Mihawk could easily hear her announcing dinner. Seconds later, the two younger pirates passed by his hiding place, with the princess dragging the swordsman behind her.
Once they had passed, the shichibukai slipped into Zoro's room. The candle still burned feebly in its brass holder, the bed was disheveled, and under the bed were the young swordsman's boots.
Out of curiosity, Mihawk hefted up one of them and eyed it. The soles were worn, but not smooth, and the black, leathery material was obviously well-traveled. The feet they belonged to weren't delicate and small, but they weren't brutish either. Even if the swordsman had never met the owner of the boots, he could have guessed at a mild, balanced man.
Mihawk chuckled—that sounded about right.
As he was about to set the boot down, he noticed something else lying on the bed: Roronoa's black bandana. The boot landed with a thump, and the shichibukai gingerly picked up the cloth. Tattered, old, and worn, the thing had definitely seen better days. It held the strong scent of salt, picked up from being dunked into the ocean countless times with its owner, but there was a lighter scent as well. Mihawk held it closer to his face, as though he were trying to filter out some poisonous air.
The bandana smelled like metal.
It was an alluring scent, one so familiar and calming to the swordsman that he lost track of time—the only thing he noticed was the light finally dying, and even that was a vague passing of thought. Only the sound of approaching footsteps snapped the shichibukai back to himself.
With a pang of protest from the pull, Mihawk cast the bandana aside and retreated from the room. Again, he ducked into an adjacent room as the two passed him by, they marked by the solitary candle Perona carried.
Once they were gone, and all sound from both of their rooms had ceased, the shichibukai stepped into the dark hall and poked his head into his apprentice's room. The younger swordsman was out like a light and sprawled on his back, shirtless, and snoring uproariously. A tiny snort of amusement escaped from his teacher.
Though the pull was awake and insistent, Mihawk stood his ground at the doorway. He did nothing but observe the rhythmic movements of Zoro's chest, the smallest twitching of his limbs and face, the shadows on his crotch—
The shichibukai caught himself and his golden eyes returned to the movements of the younger man's upper torso. What pitiful amounts of light—to Mihawk, it wasn't anywhere near enough—did manage to make it through the window illuminated Zoro's shirtless chest. His strong jaw was set into his neck by the line curving from behind his ear, making an arrow down with his clavicles. The line stretched down, between solid pectorals, sharp abdominal muscles, a black hole of a belly button—all leading down into—
Once more, the swordsman had to drag his eyes away from what the pull was demanding.
After a fierce snort, Zoro muttered something. Mihawk cocked an eyebrow, and, despite himself, he stepped forward. Though it looked like the sleeping man would continue—or perhaps even repeat himself—he didn't, and the shichibukai was left awkwardly standing beside his bed.
The pull would have none of that.
Quietly, Mihawk sat on the edge of the bed, still feeling annoyingly unsatisfied. His hand moved on its own, encouraged by the thing lurking in his stomach, and came to rest on Zoro's forehead. The sleeping swordsman snorted in reply, but didn't stir in earnest. The shichibukai felt himself moving, but he knew he had surrendered control; however, the sensation didn't bother him anywhere near as much as it should have. His hand slid silently down and cupped the side of his student's clear face. The three earrings that graced that ear cooled the elder swordsman's palm, and tinkled softly as the hand moved on. Fingers trailed down the back of Zoro's neck, pressed between flesh and bedclothes. Mihawk was entranced by the heat of his student's skin as his hand passed over the broad chest and mariner's abdomen.
The shichibukai's hand stopped at the edge the younger pirate's pants, the spell on the former finally broken. Through only the greatest force of will was Mihawk able to make himself rise and step away from the sleeping Roronoa. Without a backwards glance he was gone, returned to his own quarters as swiftly as he could.
Dreams haunted the shichibukai, a swirling mass of the pleasures denied in the waking world. They hung tantalizingly close—delicious fruit in front of a starving man—but were yanked cruelly away from as morning roused him. Bitterly, the swordsman woke.
Dressing and general daily preparations were a drab, routine blur as Mihawk's mind kept wandering back to shadowy remnants of the night before and standing at the fringe of beautiful and fleeting dreams. Reality taunted him with its normality, and as the shichibukai went to wake the others, the merciless solidity of the world began to sink in.
As Mihawk passed his student's room to rouse Perona, a hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder. The shichibukai nearly floored Zoro out of instinct for a brief second, but he managed to get himself back under control before his reflexes killed the younger swordsman.
"I know why," Zoro stated.
Mihawk cocked an eyebrow.
"You want me to notice the differences between a sword master and a novice," the student explained eagerly, "You need me to see the how much more skilled the master is."
The eyebrow dropped.
"It isn't the differences I'm worried about."
Zoro thought a moment.
"I don't understand."
"Then we can't continue." The shichibukai turned to continue down the hall and wake the ghost girl. Once he had reached her door, Zoro called to him.
"Wait. I've got it."
"What this time?" the teacher asked, his patience wearing thin.
"You're looking at how they're the same."
Mihawk turned from the door and propped himself against it, looking to Zoro.
"Like how they both attack and block."
The edge of the shichibukai's mouth twitched upward.
"What does attacking and blocking have to do with being a swordsman?"
The student's face imploded in confusion, and for a few silent moments, he thought.
"They keep the swordsman alive?"
"Not necessarily."
Again, Zoro thought for a long, silent while before his face glowed with realization.
"The sword. That's the key."
"It is why we are called swordsmen," Mihawk affirmed, "Though while anyone can pick up the blade, they will be the uneducated—the novice. The master, however, knows the blade and will treat it like any human partner."
"That's why you had me meditating with my swords?"
A smile, albeit a small one, grew on the shichibukai's face.
"I hope you'll be able to properly introduce me to them after breakfast?" he asked. Zoro nodded fervently and took a step forward. His teacher shook his head.
"Let her sleep. You return to bed as well."
"But—"
"No," the elder swordsman commanded, "You'll return to sleep—you will need it for your next lesson."
The young pirate's face brightened as he turned eagerly to return to his room. Within ten minutes he was sprawled, snoring, and undignified.
Mihawk watched over his sleeping student, fighting with the demons that demanded he make a move.
AN: Yesh, it has been a long time since the last chapter. And the depressing part is, I've had the first page or so of this written up for months now.
Several things have gotten in the way, and in no particular order they are: Blue Exorcist anime/manga (absolutely awesome- go watch/read); -Man; NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)-yeah, didn't get to finish that; school work, including several large English papers; Anime/Manga convention (unfortunately didn't get to go as Sebas-chan); Howl's Moving Castle (movie and book series); Assassin's Creed (relevant 'cause you know Mihawk is totally part of the order); and my own staggering laziness. Yay laziness.
It is out now, and I still feel like I've missed the mark with some of the character's personalities (Mihawk can be kinda fickle when talking to me, and I'm pretty sure Zoro just hates me), and to me this all feels a little forced/rushed.
But maybe that's just me.
Again, stuff is most likely to be sporadic, 'cause school comes first and all that, as well as trying to surmount my own godforsaken laziness. Again, yay laziness.
Ah, as a side note: I'd like to know how you (as readers) have come across this story, whether you found it on your own, through a group, or by word of mouth-mostly 'cause I'm just curious. It's fine if you don't.
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well as the ones in the future,
As I am,
Lady Spritzy
1/15/12