#4 Never again - as always
Objectively speaking, he was much worse for the wear. Spectators might likely wonder as to how his body was at all able to sustain its usual composition. Gashes and deep cuts littered his tanned front and arms, blood streaming out of the openings in mad torrents.
Compared to his battered form, the woman slumped almost lifelessly against his back, supported by his own bleeding arms, seemed almost unharmed. A shoulder look painfully dislocated and there were quite likely a few fractures under the bruises as well.
For him, however, there was no doubt whose injuries weighed more heavily on his heart - and his conscience. True, had he come to her rescue even seconds later, he would likely be carrying her corpse back to his nakama in shame right now. Still, the mere fact that she had been injured tore greatly at his insides.
She was not supposed to be injured at all.
That was why he fought. He was the fighter; he was the one whose blood was to be shed.
Not her.
On his conscience, her broken bones and the shoulder that was not in its original position weighed so much heavier than the loss of one of his own limbs ever could. He knew her wounds would heal - and that she would probably be pampered by the love cook for that duration; quite probably, not even a scar would remain on her smooth skin.
His legs grew heavier with every step he treaded through the mud - no reason, of course, for the warrior to stop and take a rest - and his clothes were drenched from the heavy rain pouring down onto his body, intermingling with the fresh crimson torrents swelling forth from his wounds.
The woman on his back was shielded from the largest part of the attacking waves - even if she had not been, she quite likely would not have noticed, for she had her eyes closed tiredly and appeared to have drifted off into the deep sleep of exhaustion.
A fact Zoro was rather pleased with. Usually when he saved her, his reward was a thunderstorm of insults, complaints and commands. This time, however, she had not even managed more than a single 'Zoro?' before she had collapsed on the ground. At first, this had gravely concerned him. But as he had found that her breathing was strong - albeit a little shallow - and her heart pounding in its usual rhythm, his worries had ceased.
And his stupid conscience had knocked on the front door.
Next time, he would be faster.
Next time, he would make sure she made it out unharmed.
He was the fighter; he was the one whose blood was to be shed.
All of a sudden, his boots lost their grip on the slippery ground, and he barely managed to keep from falling face forward into the mud. As he took a second to recover his balance, he noticed the form on his back stirring lightly.
"Zoro…? What?" came a confused voice, followed by a small yelp of pain - which, of course, instantly grabbed his insides and squeezed them tightly.
Yet before he even had the chance to reply, he felt her body jolting upright, almost threatening to throw him over.
"Zoro! Where the hell do you think you're going? You stupid idiot, those are mountains! Have you absolutely no common sense under that ugly green moss of yours?"
Zoro gritted his teeth.
Like hell there would be a next time!
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a/n: And he will still return, the knight in shining green armor, when the exuberant damsel is in distress.
Will not proofread right now, since it was a long day - students were a little tiring today - and I need my 'beauty sleep'. I might, however return to this idea, because it was originally planned to be completely different - and I might fall back on that in the future. Anyway, hope you enjoy - if you do, please read and review! - and a good night!