After the first fight
-Mihawk-
"Zoro, what are you doing here? You're badly injured and you should..."
"How's he doing, Chopper?"
"... Fine given the circumstances. He is currently asleep. No, you should not go inside now... At least be quiet, okay?"
Almost silently, the door to the sick bay opened and in the darkness of the room the other entered, closing the door carefully behind him.
"What an honor," Mihawk whispered wearily, "the greatest swordsman in the world."
The figure in the shadows froze for a moment.
"You're awake," Roronoa murmured before he walked over to the desk and turned on the small table lamp instead of the bright overhead light. Now Mihawk could see the soft blush on the younger man's otherwise pale cheeks. "How do you feel?"
"Divided," he replied with a soft smile.
"Is that supposed to be a pun?" grumbled Roronoa, dropping onto the office chair with a heavy grunt. "Geez, I'll probably never get used to seeing you like that."
"He said, after he almost split me in two with his very own hands."
"Stop it." The other kicked the bed box slightly, but although he crossed his arms, he could not hide the twitching of the corners of his mouth. "Not like you didn't dish it out yourself. When you knocked both swords our of my hands, I was ready to be decapitated."
"Yes, you were inattentive at that moment. Something like this should not happen to you again. Next time, a mistake like that could cost you victory, at least if you fight me." He hesitated for a moment. "At least, I hope you will fight me once more?"
"Once more?" Roronoa repeated brusquely. "Are you kidding me? That was just our first real fight and I intend to fight you 999 more times and to..."
He froze and lowered his gaze, unconsciously hiding his face in the shadows, not that it bothered Mihawk; he could recognize his facial expressions well enough. He could see how it worked within Roronoa when he understood what had happened. But after seconds, he still stayed silent and Mihawk decided that he had to interrupt the other's brooding.
"Well, Roronoa, why did you come here? Doctor Chopper is right, we both need rest, it was a demanding battle, and normally you would sleep for days with injuries like this. So your presence seems to be of very important matter, right?"
Roronoa nodded, still looking at his bandaged hands, not at all in the mood Mihawk had expected. He had expected an overjoyed, perhaps even high-spirited Roronoa, marked by pride and perhaps even some hard-earned arrogance, but what he encountered was humility and restraint. It was always special how this young man was able to belie his expectations.
"Are you happy?"
Surprised, he looked at the other. What a naïve, almost foolish question. He wanted to laugh, but he knew better, knew that Roronoa would misunderstand this as mockery, and just now he seemed far too serious for any teasing.
"Roronoa, I should probably ask you this question, after all, you have..."
"Yes, I have defeated you," he said, not with pride in his voice, but with a tension as if the real battle was yet to come, "and it's all I... But I can't - not yet - before... What about you now? Titles are so much more important to you than to me and you..."
"Roronoa," he interrupted the other and tried to sit up, but his body did not want to obey him, and he grunted in pain.
"Hey, hey, don't move," Roronoa hissed unusually alarmed, leaning forward, close enough for Mihawk to grab his forearm, while Roronoa gently pushed him back into bed by the shoulder.
"Listen to me," he said, noticing the uncomfortable pain all over his torso, and pulling the other more towards him, as he really was not able to sit up, "listen to me, Roronoa, please."
The younger one nodded and now also clasped Mihawk's forearm.
"Let me tell you quite clearly, so that you do not misunderstand me: Your question is sheer nonsense, because how could I not be happy right now?"
The suspicious furrows on Roronoa's forehead deepened, but otherwise he looked stoic, as he often did when he kept his emotions under control. Mihawk wondered what was going on in that head.
"Yes, I lost," he continued, "this fight and my title, but believe me it was worth it. To see what a sword master you have become. Surpassed by my student, defeated by my companion, I am incredibly happy, Roronoa. And not only because I was there to see you realize your dream, but also because mine has become my reality."
"To lose?" Roronoa asked with incredulous hoarseness. "Oh, come on, you really want me to believe that?"
"Nonsense, of course I did not want to lose, but this fight..., it was worth the risk of losing."
He could not help but smile, although Roronoa looked at him doubtfully and shook his head. But how could he know what Mihawk was feeling, after all, he had never had to experience it. Presumably, he believed that Mihawk was holding back because of him. What a childish, naïve thought, and oh, so wrong.
"My naïve little frog, you must understand how long I have been waiting for this day to come, the day when I finally face a swordsman who will allow me to fight the way I have always dreamed of. To this day, this kind of fight has been nothing more than a wish that everyone else has dismissed as unrealistic and absurd, which even my sister could never more than imagine but never experience." He gripped the other tighter to make the meaning as clear as possible, to show the urgency as clearly as possible. "Roronoa, I became a swordsman for one reason only. Not because of my family, not even because of my sister, but just because of this idea of a fight that was nothing more than pure fantasy. I only became a swordsman because I love this kind of fighting – and only this kind of fighting! - which has not even existed until today, I have always loved it. I was finally able to do what I love; fight the way I love it. You are the proof and the reason that the path of my life that I have taken, my decision to become a swordsman, has not been a waste of time. Yes, I lost, and I hate to lose, but this fight today... I have only survived the last thirty years to be able to fight you today."
Roronoa shook his head, lowered his gaze, hid his face in the shadows, yet Mihawk could easily see how he was struggling for his stoic expression. But sooner or later he would probably lose this fight.
"Okay, so today you're happy because you've been able to fight like never before," he replied, almost coolly, almost dismissively, as if Mihawk's words seemed more threatening than soothing. "But what about tomorrow? I know you, today it may have been worth the price, but what about as soon as the adrenaline, the euphoria, wears off? Will you still be happy tomorrow about having lost, about losing your title? You hate losing, you love your titles, and I... Someone who hates losing as much as you do... Won't you blame me forever?"
For a moment, he did not know what to say, and he cursed his body for not wanting to obey him. It was almost ridiculous that Roronoa, despite all his clear words, still did not understand him. Oh no, it was not that he did not understand, he simply did not believe Mihawk, doubted his words, met him with suspicion.
And yet there was also something touching about Roronoa's words, who worried so much at this very moment, when he was just supposed to feel happiness and joy; once again Mihawk had underestimated him.
"Roronoa," he pronounced softly, rubbing his thumb over the other's forearm in the absence of other gestures of affection his body was currently denying him, "tell me, do you still love me?"
"Yes," replied the other, without any hesitation, without any doubt, but with an absolution that almost unsettled Mihawk.
"Then you do not have to worry, neither before tomorrow nor before every day that follows. It is true, maybe I will be annoyed about not getting the respect I undoubtedly deserve as the best swordsman in the world. Maybe I will be a sore loser if your crew or Redhair make stupid jokes, I do not to deny any of that. Surely my vanity will resent my will to fight on some days that I have cultivated my own downfall."
"Do you have to use such dramatic words?" the other replied brusquely.
"But despite everything, I want you to be sure of one thing." Cautiously, he moved up the other's bandaged arm and held Roronoa's shoulder, a simple act, but he was unable to do more with his current strength. "No matter what the future holds, be sure that as long as you love me, I do not care what I lose, what I have to give, my titles, my name, my fortune, it does not matter to me. As long as you love me, I could go through hell and still consider myself lucky. I would rather be a nobody by your side than the man I was before I met you."
He could see that Roronoa did not know how to deal with these words, but what was even stranger was that he could not withstand Mihawk's gaze but lowered his head. Could he really not believe Mihawk's words? It would not be surprising, after all, Mihawk had manipulated him so many times, but maybe he was wrong. As often the case, he found it difficult to read Roronoa. Mihawk simply did not know what the other was thinking, but by now he knew that he had to find clear words even in those moments.
"I hate losing, but what does that say about my feelings for the one I lost to, you ask? I love him, perhaps even more than before, and if my body were able to do so, I would now bow to him and give him the respect he deserves. I may hate defeat, but oh, how much I love the victor. I could never blame you for becoming what I have always seen in you. And as long as you love me, I will overcome any defeat that may come."
Roronoa looked up, looked at him far too earnestly, for the gentleness in Mihawk's words, then grabbed Mihawk's hand on his shoulder, leaned forward further, held his undoubtedly aching side with one hand, and just looked at him.
"I told you, I love you," he whispered, almost threateningly, "so don't you dare to ever forget that."
Mihawk looked at his wrist, which the other squeezed tightly in rhythm with his words. All of a sudden, it was surprisingly difficult for him to keep his composure. He had once longed for these words but had never thought he would ever hear them. It had once been a hopeless wish, but even afterwards he had seen it as nothing more than a childish daydream. He had been satisfied with what he had been given, for it had been so much more than he had ever hoped for. But now Roronoa said these words, now Roronoa fulfilled these two longings he had never hoped for in just one day.
It was almost too good to be true and this was exactly what made Dualcre doubt. If he was honest, the past few hours had not only been emotional for him, after all, Roronoa had spent his whole life looking forward to that day and the euphoria of the past few hours may have clouded his perception.
"Well, of course you had to say that now," Mihawk replied cautiously, "after I obligated you like..."
"Shut up!" Roronoa stared at him angrily, the uncertainty of before vanished into thin air. "Don't twist my words just because you can't handle them, understood?"
"Forgive me," he relented, deciding not to seek the argument that Roronoa had done exactly the same thing before. "But now that we have discussed my feelings enough and dispelled unnecessary doubts, let us talk about you. Roronoa, tell me, what do you feel?"
The other's eyes widened, as if he only now realized why they were having this conversation. Presumably, that was exactly what happened, and that look of surprise made Mihawk smile.
"Tell me, are you happy, Oh, greatest swordsman in the world?"
A tremor seemed to go through Roronoa's body and for a moment his gaze slid down to Mihawk's bruised chest and then to his own free hand, while still squeezing Mihawk's wrist tightly with the other, perhaps even tighter than before. It seemed as if he was only now realizing what had happened. Mihawk could literally see how the fight, which had ended only a few hours ago, was happening in his mind's eye.
"Yes," he whispered, but his voice was powerful and confident, just as Mihawk had expected, "yes, I think... I think I'm happy, really happy."
And then the dams that he had held so stoically broke when he gave Mihawk that rare broad smile and tears ran down his cheeks.
"I... I did it!" he laughed, as if he had just found out about it himself, as if Mihawk had not known already, as if anybody on board of this little ship would still not know. "I finally defeated you! I am... I am..."
He ran his free hand through his hair and then pressed it against his mouth as his voice failed him and the tears continued to run unhindered.
"Go ahead, say it."
For a moment, Roronoa just looked at him, then straightened his shoulder and rubbed the tears from his face.
"I am Roronoa Zoro," he spoke so clearly that the hairs on the back of Mihawk's neck stood up, "greatest swordsman... in the world."
A single tear stole from Mihawk's eye as he could no longer lock in the warmth in his chest. Roronoa's hand holding his wrist was still in place, and so he could feel that steady, strong pulse that his still dull senses would otherwise have overheard.
They just looked at each other, words needless to say, while Roronoa held his hand and he did not even try to control his facial expressions, eyes and cheeks flushed and Mihawk knew that he could not look any better himself, pale and weakened by their fight.
In silence they were there, who knows for how long, and allowed each other to enter, allowed each other to perceive, to perceive each other in silence.
"You should get some rest," Mihawk muttered after a while, noticing Roronoa tensing up slightly, "go to sleep. We can talk about today tomorrow, but we are both hurt and even if you are the stronger one, you should not overdo it, okay?"
The other laughed softly.
"To be honest, I have no idea how I even made it up here," he admitted with a wry grin. "I'm so done, I can barely keep myself up in this chair. I don't know how I'm going to make it to my bunk or back to Usopp's workshop."
"So foolish," Mihawk sighed, rolling his eyes. "I would offer you to share my bed with you, but even for me it is hardly big enough and I doubt I will be able to move much."
He watched as Roronoa looked at him.
"I just can't get used to seeing you like that," he repeated his words from the beginning of their conversation.
"But you should, my dear Roronoa, after all, I too am only human, and should we cross swords more often, I shall be in this deplorable state more often, however much it may displease us both." He hesitated for a moment before deciding to express further uncertainty. "Besides, I am much older than you, and if I do not fall in battle, the day will come when you will see me like this more often, and maybe even in much more miserable situations. Except, of course, if you..."
"Then I'll get used to it," Roronoa interrupted him, and he gripped Mihawk's hand even tighter, pulling it onto his chest, seemingly unconsciously. "Because I want to fight you so much more often, but fight or no fight, you won't be able to get rid of me so easily, no matter how miserable your condition."
Roronoa closed his eyes and lowered his head, brushing Mihawk's fingers. Was he aware of how intimate this gesture was? Probably not. Just as he probably did not even suspect how speechless these words made Mihawk, how stunned, how defenseless.
"You once told me that sometimes you wished I would be more selfish because it would make your feelings for me more bearable," Roronoa then spoke further, but now not so harshly and irrefutably, but rather thoughtful and calm.
"But Roronoa, what I meant at the time was..."
"May I ask you for a very selfish thing?" Roronoa's eyes sparkled in the light of the table lamp as he lowered Mihawk's hand slightly. "Can you leave the path of an honorable swordsman for me?"
They looked at each other earnestly.
"For me, when the day comes, can you abdicate the fight to the death and resign? I know I'm asking a lot when I deny you the dignified end of a swordsman, but I..."
"Yes," he replied, as the other began to search for his words, "I can."
Roronoa stared at him in disbelief, as this path was unimaginable to himself, just as this idea would have been unimaginable for Mihawk twenty years ago.
"But..."
"Roronoa." He squeezed the hand that held his so tightly, "I won't do anything that could take time with you away from me, and if you can bear that I will grow old and weak at some point, if you can still love me even if I cannot hold a sword anymore, then..."
"I will," Roronoa whispered with a force Mihawk could not comprehend. Smiling, he shrugged his shoulders.
"Then I do not need honor, Roronoa, then I do not need dignity, then I will probably die contentedly and of old age at some point. Is that enough for you?"
Roronoa nodded, although it had actually been a rhetorical question.
"Well, but you really should get some sleep now, you see..."
He interrupted himself when there was a knock on the door to the deck. Although it was already late at night, suddenly the captain of the Straw Hats stuck his head in, a rare moderate smile on his lips.
"Luffy, what are you doing here?" Roronoa whispered, surprised. "You wanted to go to bed."
Now the Straw Hat grinned broadly. "Nah, it's okay, I had night watch."
"You had...? You never have night watch," Roronoa replied suspiciously.
The Straw Hat just shrugged his shoulders.
"Sanji just got up, and when Chopper finds out you've been talking all night..." He grinned even wider now. "So I thought I'd pick you up, Zoro."
For a moment Mihawk looked at the Straw Hat, who then met his gaze without any change in his facial expressions.
"You should do what your Captain says, Roronoa," he decided before Roronoa could react. "We can talk later."
For a moment Roronoa looked back and forth between him and his Captain, then he seemed to admit defeat, for he nodded with a soft sigh.
"Fine," he murmured, before squeezing Mihawk's hand again and then carefully placing it back on the bed. "Then we'll talk more later."
"Mhm, and Roronoa, how about a kiss for the loser?" He winked at the younger one, who opened his mouth in surprise.
"You're so weird," he grumbled, rising ponderously with a grunt before leaning on the bed box and leaning down to Mihawk. For a soft moment, those rough lips lingered on his and he enjoyed the warmth of the other, enjoyed the closeness of the other. When he opened his eyes, he could see Roronoa watching him for a moment before he cut off contact. "Promise me that my victory won't change anything."
"Of course, things will change, Roronoa," he replied with a smile and raised both hands exhaustedly to frame the other's face, which Roronoa allowed to happen, "and that is a good thing. You are the best swordsman in the world now, it would be sad if it did not change anything."
Roronoa averted his gaze.
"But you should not fear this change, after all, you have worked so hard towards this dream. This victory will not cost you anything, neither your Captain nor your crew nor me. Things may change a bit now, but trust me, you should look forward to it." Carefully, he pulled Roronoa down to him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "And now get some rest, my little frog, before Doctor Chopper ends up with a heart attack because of us."
The other obeyed, but when he rose, his legs gave way beneath him. The next moment, the Straw Hat stood beside him, one arm pulled over his shoulder, holding Roronoa tightly in his grip, his big grin on his lips.
"Good night Hawkguy," he laughed softly.
"Good night, Straw Hat."
For a moment he met the gaze of his companion, then the Straw Hat turned off the lamp and took Roronoa with him.
As they walked through the door, Mihawk could still clearly hear the words of the Straw Hat.
"So?"
"Yes," Roronoa said calmly. "Now I'm ready."
"Shishishi, sounds good," laughed the Straw Hat as he pulled the door. "Then we'll celebrate tonight. We have to raise a toast! Right, best swordsman in the world?"
"Aye, future king of pirates."
