LuZoLu Drabbles
Oct. 25th, 2005 08:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsThis goes in order and I also used horrible anime filler plot (Apis Arc) so please don't kill me.
Title: 3 Point Perspective
Rating: G for all
Pairing Zoro and Luffy
Word Count: 895
Five hours have passed since they’ve been slingshot off the island. Five hours of listening to the rain drum on the deck over his head. Five hours spent in his hammock trying to sleep. Five hours of flashing back to that one lightning-lit moment when he was sure his heart had stopped, when the pit opened up in his stomach and he was afraid nothing would ever fill it again. He’s spent five hours torn up inside thinking about what it all means and why is it that the worst moments in his life always seem to happen in the rain?
The small room is mostly quiet. Usopp’s whistling version of snoring fills his hearing; that and the sound of the rain. No odor of cigarette smoke fills the room. The crap chef had drawn first watch and Zoro knows his resentment isn’t fair but it doesn’t stop him from wishing he was huddled and wet up in the crow’s nest rather than not-sleeping down in the men’s cabin. Only once before has he felt anything similar to what’s keeping him awake now. When Kuina died, when she passed so ignobly away before even having a chance to really live, a part of him had curled up into a tight, tiny ball. It was like he planted a seed of despair within himself and the only way to keep the poisonous plant from sprouting had been to train and deny and work himself harder and harder. The memory of that moonlit night and their promise, their duel, was sealed away because the lost possibilities hurt more in some ways than even the sight of her body being lowered into the cold, wet ground.
He’d felt the same pain when he watched a brightly colored maniac swing a blade at a vulnerable rubber neck. All the the possibilities, all the hopes and dreams he’d heard and hesitantly had begun to share had flared to life in his mind and were then snuffed with a clap of thunder, a flash of light, and the undeniable downward motion of a sword. When his vision had cleared – and he’d always say he’d been blinded by the lightning and that was what made him blink, made his eyes water – a miracle had happened.
Luffy lived where Kuina had died. There wasn’t time to exult this seeming triumph over the fates. They had to fight their way free. And then Luffy had been so vibrantly alive that it had kept his darker thoughts at bay. But he’d started to brood soon enough, dwelling on the closeness of it all and on the guilt that nagged him for feeling grateful that if one of two of the most important people in his life had to die, he was glad it was Kuina rather than Luffy. It bothers him, these thoughts that circle round and round and flash constantly back to the one instant when he felt a part of himself die. Why should Luffy make him feel this way? Why has the straw-hatted teen begun to fill all of his moments, waking and asleep? He remembers the dream he had shortly after Arlong had been defeated, back when he was still in the local infirmary. It makes heat rise in his face and once again he blames it on the drugs and whatever else the doctor had made him take. Why does the fact that he can’t hear Luffy’s gentle, sleepy breathing bother him so much?
His mind races for a while longer, none of his thoughts making much sense. He’s ready to get up and stand on the deck just to get some air when the soft sound of creaking ropes reaches his ears. His night vision is good and he has no trouble making out the slender form of the captain rolling out his hammock. Luffy is rumpled in the pair of over-large pajamas Nami forced on him after seeing the shell-shocked looks on the faces of the chef and the swordsman. His hat is off for the moment and bits of dark hair stick up and make miniature mountains on his head from what Zoro can see in the darkness. There is no yawning or stretching or scratching that would normally mark the teen’s rising, even for something as simple as getting up to use the restroom. His face seems solemn in the shadows and he turns unerringly to look first at Usopp and then at Zoro. A thousand possibilities flash before Zoro’s eyes, stops for a moment on one that opens up an entirely different kind of ache in his gut. He freezes for a second, thinks about feigning sleep. Instead he chooses a more neutral way and tells himself that Luffy isn’t disappointed when he meets his gaze and simply nods.
The captain pads softly from the room, heading Zoro supposes for the toilet or in search of food, and he resists the nearly overwhelming urge to follow. Instead he stares at the ceiling and remembers the rain and misses the look tossed over one deceptively strong shoulder when Luffy walks out the door. Five hours have passed and Zoro still can’t sleep. At least now, he tells himself, the visions that haunt him have very little to do with the ending of dreams and everything with hoping against hope that certain new ones will come true.
Word Count: 791
Zoro is sitting on the deck, three swords for once gone from his side. Instead they lie in front of and beside him. Luffy noticed that Zoro had picked up two new ones back in Logue Town, but only now, two days later when the sky is clear and they are heading for the Grand Line and there is nothing at all to do before they arrive, does he really remember and stop idly trying to tie all of his toes in knots so he can study them. He scoots closer, jean-clad posterior moving over the sun warmed wood with no regard for the possibility of splinters. Zoro has been staring at the white sword, the one Luffy knows is very special, for a while now. That blade has been polished already, returned lovingly cleaned and oiled to its pristine sheath. For an instant Luffy thinks that the swordsman won’t notice him getting nearer, but then Zoro raises his head. His gaze is hard in that moment and if Luffy couldn’t see the black bandanna tied clearly to his arm, he’d swear it was shadowing the swordsman’s gaze.
The fingers that have snuck out to try and touch the sword whose handle is wrapped in leather and whose sheath is scarlet snap back audibly. Zoro frowns for a bit then sighs when he sees Luffy’s plaintive expression. There is no denying the hurt and the curiosity that are commingled on the open face. The swordsman tells himself that it is his desire to keep from being harassed that moves his hand and his focus away from Wadou and to the cursed blade. The truth whispers in the back of his mind that he can lately never refuse Luffy anything that the captain really wants. Sandai Kitetsu scrapes out of its sheath with a harsh sound of metal. Already the feel of the blade in his hand is stirring his blood. Truly the sword is cursed, but he can control it, sending his thoughts in a way that would have embarassed him if he had ever tried to explain them out loud. He explains who Luffy is, what he does, what he represents and he ignores the ticklish feeling of a dark chuckle that seems to come from the sword. This blade cannot know him better than he knows himself. Not yet. There hasn’t been time.
Luffy cocks his head in that way that Zoro knows means the captain is trying to puzzle something out. Bright brown eyes study the way shadows seem to birth themselves and die along the gleaming edge of Sandai Kitetsu. He reached out his hand again and Zoro holds his breath. For an instant Luffy touches the tip of one finger to the point of the cursed blade. Rubber flesh yields softly, an indentation that the swordsman fears will soon be filled with a welling of blood. Instead Luffy bows his head and when he lifts it, drawing away his hand, he is grinning and unharmed. Zoro mutters to himself and carefully puts the cursed blade away, mindful of its own ramblings and casual attempts to bite into his flesh.
The captain is already reaching for Yukbashiri and this time Zoro halts him with a small smile, his tanned, calloused hand a gentle pressure on Luffy’s wrist. This sword is light and strong and brilliant in the bright light of the sun, glinting and glittering just like snow glare and almost as blinding when Zoro draws it free. This sword Zoro lets Luffy hold. He watches as Luffy takes it almost reverently before waving it about and laughing. Yubashiri is a well-behaved sword unlike Sandai Kitetsu, and the swordsman has no doubt that it will get along fine with his strong, thin, amazing captain. Finally Luffy has finished playing and he gives the sword back with a grateful nod of his head.
“They’re good swords.” Luffy means it. He can tell that they’ll be good for his swordsman, that they fill in a spot that had been empty before, puzzle pieces slotting neatly into the picture of Zoro. He studies the white sword again and hopes the longing he suddenly feels doesn’t show. The time is close, but they’re not quite ready yet. Zoro is almost ready to share that with him and he can wait until then.
A sudden cloud of green smoke appears to the accompaniment of a minor explosion from the stern and Luffy is on his feet in an instant. Usopp must have been playing with his explosives again. Zoro watches the captain run off and ponders just what had happened. His hand moves unnoticed away from Wadou’s hilt and he misses the quiet, almost exasperated sigh that drifts up from the sword.
Word Count: 799
The night sky is awash in stars but they twinkle down on the Going Merry in vain. Zoro’s gaze is directed inward even though his green eyes seem to study the blackened sea. Nami said that tomorrow they will arrive at the Red Line and the entrance to the Grand Line. Excitement runs through him, a thrill up his spine and in his fingers where they clutch reflexively around his sword hilts. Although the detour after Logue Town had been unexpected, he considers the dragons and the feeling of his new blades as they fought against marine and outlaw alike to have been worth it. They fought well, worked well together, and even Sandai Kitetsu had been mostly cooperative. He was, on the whole, quite pleased with himself and with them.
Kuina, he decides after several hours of reflection, would have been pleased. He can almost hear the purr of satisfaction from Wadou Ichimonji. His white sword loves two things dearly: justice and proving the strength of one’s will. And that was what he had done, what all the Straw Hats had done. They’d helped a little girl and the dragons and had brought down a corrupt marine fleet and a relatively strong devil’s fruit user and proved that they were ready to face the obstacles the Grand Line would throw in their path. This was the kind of thing they had meant when they’d promised to each other to become the strongest.
Zoro grins, teeth sharply white in the darkness, but still fails to notice the pageant the heavens are putting on above his head. Now he’s thinking about the dragons and the joke Usopp made about them having green hair to match his own and Luffy’s own startled expression when he turned and asked if Zoro was about to sprout scales and wings too. There was open wonder on the captain’s face as he watched the dragons, a match to the look Zoro had caught one or twice before when he had fought. And although the night isn’t very cold, the swordsman can feel the warmth that suffuses him at that thought.
Ever since he fought Mihawk, and maybe even as far back as the time they shared alone together in the tiny rowboat, he’s felt himself growing closer and closer to the rubber teen. After several close calls, the thought of being without Luffy is actually harsh enough to cause him pain and so he’s stopped thinking about it. His trust is placed squarely on round shoulders and a smiling mouth and deceptive hands and more dreams than he ever could have imagined before his fateful stay in a marine yard. And even though his focus is internal, he doesn’t miss the soft slapping of sandals on the deck or the quiet touch of flesh to wood as hands stretch impossibly from thirty feet below him to catch on the side of the crow’s nest.
Luffy joins him, rather he bowls him over so that Zoro’s back is no longer against the mast and his feet are somehow over his head. He opens his mouth to scold him good naturedly, something about working on his landings, but Luffy is already grinning a lopsided grin and tugging him back upright. He settles in against the swordsman without a word and they sit in a comfortable silence. Zoro watches the blue-black waves as they form, swell, and collapse only to be born once more across the surface of the ocean. The sea, as they near the great landmass, is choppy even when it’s relatively calm. Absently Zoro thinks that this is what his thoughts have been like, what the rhythm his pulse is beating to is as he tries not to notice Luffy wiggling next to him.
The quiet is broken when Luffy speaks, his own eyes having been turned skyward. “It’s beautiful, almost like a whole ‘nother sea laid out above us.” He turns to look at his swordsman, lets his fingers gently linger on the white sword, on the back of Zoro’s hand. And Zoro doesn’t move away or tug his sword out of reach. Instead he pauses and chooses to look at his captain instead of the sky. Luffy knows what he really means when Zoro nods, makes a soft noise of agreement that leaves his lips gently parted.
They move together and even though Zoro’s swords are in the way and Luffy tastes strongly of the roast he’d snuck before he launched himself up, the instant they meet is perfect. Zoro reaches, pulls Luffy closer, and Luffy goes, gently feeling out the mouth against his own. Overhead the stars gleam brightly and below them the sea continues in its timeless dance. Between them two young pirates ignore it all and focus on their moment.
Title: 3 Point Perspective
Rating: G for all
Pairing Zoro and Luffy
Word Count: 895
Five hours have passed since they’ve been slingshot off the island. Five hours of listening to the rain drum on the deck over his head. Five hours spent in his hammock trying to sleep. Five hours of flashing back to that one lightning-lit moment when he was sure his heart had stopped, when the pit opened up in his stomach and he was afraid nothing would ever fill it again. He’s spent five hours torn up inside thinking about what it all means and why is it that the worst moments in his life always seem to happen in the rain?
The small room is mostly quiet. Usopp’s whistling version of snoring fills his hearing; that and the sound of the rain. No odor of cigarette smoke fills the room. The crap chef had drawn first watch and Zoro knows his resentment isn’t fair but it doesn’t stop him from wishing he was huddled and wet up in the crow’s nest rather than not-sleeping down in the men’s cabin. Only once before has he felt anything similar to what’s keeping him awake now. When Kuina died, when she passed so ignobly away before even having a chance to really live, a part of him had curled up into a tight, tiny ball. It was like he planted a seed of despair within himself and the only way to keep the poisonous plant from sprouting had been to train and deny and work himself harder and harder. The memory of that moonlit night and their promise, their duel, was sealed away because the lost possibilities hurt more in some ways than even the sight of her body being lowered into the cold, wet ground.
He’d felt the same pain when he watched a brightly colored maniac swing a blade at a vulnerable rubber neck. All the the possibilities, all the hopes and dreams he’d heard and hesitantly had begun to share had flared to life in his mind and were then snuffed with a clap of thunder, a flash of light, and the undeniable downward motion of a sword. When his vision had cleared – and he’d always say he’d been blinded by the lightning and that was what made him blink, made his eyes water – a miracle had happened.
Luffy lived where Kuina had died. There wasn’t time to exult this seeming triumph over the fates. They had to fight their way free. And then Luffy had been so vibrantly alive that it had kept his darker thoughts at bay. But he’d started to brood soon enough, dwelling on the closeness of it all and on the guilt that nagged him for feeling grateful that if one of two of the most important people in his life had to die, he was glad it was Kuina rather than Luffy. It bothers him, these thoughts that circle round and round and flash constantly back to the one instant when he felt a part of himself die. Why should Luffy make him feel this way? Why has the straw-hatted teen begun to fill all of his moments, waking and asleep? He remembers the dream he had shortly after Arlong had been defeated, back when he was still in the local infirmary. It makes heat rise in his face and once again he blames it on the drugs and whatever else the doctor had made him take. Why does the fact that he can’t hear Luffy’s gentle, sleepy breathing bother him so much?
His mind races for a while longer, none of his thoughts making much sense. He’s ready to get up and stand on the deck just to get some air when the soft sound of creaking ropes reaches his ears. His night vision is good and he has no trouble making out the slender form of the captain rolling out his hammock. Luffy is rumpled in the pair of over-large pajamas Nami forced on him after seeing the shell-shocked looks on the faces of the chef and the swordsman. His hat is off for the moment and bits of dark hair stick up and make miniature mountains on his head from what Zoro can see in the darkness. There is no yawning or stretching or scratching that would normally mark the teen’s rising, even for something as simple as getting up to use the restroom. His face seems solemn in the shadows and he turns unerringly to look first at Usopp and then at Zoro. A thousand possibilities flash before Zoro’s eyes, stops for a moment on one that opens up an entirely different kind of ache in his gut. He freezes for a second, thinks about feigning sleep. Instead he chooses a more neutral way and tells himself that Luffy isn’t disappointed when he meets his gaze and simply nods.
The captain pads softly from the room, heading Zoro supposes for the toilet or in search of food, and he resists the nearly overwhelming urge to follow. Instead he stares at the ceiling and remembers the rain and misses the look tossed over one deceptively strong shoulder when Luffy walks out the door. Five hours have passed and Zoro still can’t sleep. At least now, he tells himself, the visions that haunt him have very little to do with the ending of dreams and everything with hoping against hope that certain new ones will come true.
Word Count: 791
Zoro is sitting on the deck, three swords for once gone from his side. Instead they lie in front of and beside him. Luffy noticed that Zoro had picked up two new ones back in Logue Town, but only now, two days later when the sky is clear and they are heading for the Grand Line and there is nothing at all to do before they arrive, does he really remember and stop idly trying to tie all of his toes in knots so he can study them. He scoots closer, jean-clad posterior moving over the sun warmed wood with no regard for the possibility of splinters. Zoro has been staring at the white sword, the one Luffy knows is very special, for a while now. That blade has been polished already, returned lovingly cleaned and oiled to its pristine sheath. For an instant Luffy thinks that the swordsman won’t notice him getting nearer, but then Zoro raises his head. His gaze is hard in that moment and if Luffy couldn’t see the black bandanna tied clearly to his arm, he’d swear it was shadowing the swordsman’s gaze.
The fingers that have snuck out to try and touch the sword whose handle is wrapped in leather and whose sheath is scarlet snap back audibly. Zoro frowns for a bit then sighs when he sees Luffy’s plaintive expression. There is no denying the hurt and the curiosity that are commingled on the open face. The swordsman tells himself that it is his desire to keep from being harassed that moves his hand and his focus away from Wadou and to the cursed blade. The truth whispers in the back of his mind that he can lately never refuse Luffy anything that the captain really wants. Sandai Kitetsu scrapes out of its sheath with a harsh sound of metal. Already the feel of the blade in his hand is stirring his blood. Truly the sword is cursed, but he can control it, sending his thoughts in a way that would have embarassed him if he had ever tried to explain them out loud. He explains who Luffy is, what he does, what he represents and he ignores the ticklish feeling of a dark chuckle that seems to come from the sword. This blade cannot know him better than he knows himself. Not yet. There hasn’t been time.
Luffy cocks his head in that way that Zoro knows means the captain is trying to puzzle something out. Bright brown eyes study the way shadows seem to birth themselves and die along the gleaming edge of Sandai Kitetsu. He reached out his hand again and Zoro holds his breath. For an instant Luffy touches the tip of one finger to the point of the cursed blade. Rubber flesh yields softly, an indentation that the swordsman fears will soon be filled with a welling of blood. Instead Luffy bows his head and when he lifts it, drawing away his hand, he is grinning and unharmed. Zoro mutters to himself and carefully puts the cursed blade away, mindful of its own ramblings and casual attempts to bite into his flesh.
The captain is already reaching for Yukbashiri and this time Zoro halts him with a small smile, his tanned, calloused hand a gentle pressure on Luffy’s wrist. This sword is light and strong and brilliant in the bright light of the sun, glinting and glittering just like snow glare and almost as blinding when Zoro draws it free. This sword Zoro lets Luffy hold. He watches as Luffy takes it almost reverently before waving it about and laughing. Yubashiri is a well-behaved sword unlike Sandai Kitetsu, and the swordsman has no doubt that it will get along fine with his strong, thin, amazing captain. Finally Luffy has finished playing and he gives the sword back with a grateful nod of his head.
“They’re good swords.” Luffy means it. He can tell that they’ll be good for his swordsman, that they fill in a spot that had been empty before, puzzle pieces slotting neatly into the picture of Zoro. He studies the white sword again and hopes the longing he suddenly feels doesn’t show. The time is close, but they’re not quite ready yet. Zoro is almost ready to share that with him and he can wait until then.
A sudden cloud of green smoke appears to the accompaniment of a minor explosion from the stern and Luffy is on his feet in an instant. Usopp must have been playing with his explosives again. Zoro watches the captain run off and ponders just what had happened. His hand moves unnoticed away from Wadou’s hilt and he misses the quiet, almost exasperated sigh that drifts up from the sword.
Word Count: 799
The night sky is awash in stars but they twinkle down on the Going Merry in vain. Zoro’s gaze is directed inward even though his green eyes seem to study the blackened sea. Nami said that tomorrow they will arrive at the Red Line and the entrance to the Grand Line. Excitement runs through him, a thrill up his spine and in his fingers where they clutch reflexively around his sword hilts. Although the detour after Logue Town had been unexpected, he considers the dragons and the feeling of his new blades as they fought against marine and outlaw alike to have been worth it. They fought well, worked well together, and even Sandai Kitetsu had been mostly cooperative. He was, on the whole, quite pleased with himself and with them.
Kuina, he decides after several hours of reflection, would have been pleased. He can almost hear the purr of satisfaction from Wadou Ichimonji. His white sword loves two things dearly: justice and proving the strength of one’s will. And that was what he had done, what all the Straw Hats had done. They’d helped a little girl and the dragons and had brought down a corrupt marine fleet and a relatively strong devil’s fruit user and proved that they were ready to face the obstacles the Grand Line would throw in their path. This was the kind of thing they had meant when they’d promised to each other to become the strongest.
Zoro grins, teeth sharply white in the darkness, but still fails to notice the pageant the heavens are putting on above his head. Now he’s thinking about the dragons and the joke Usopp made about them having green hair to match his own and Luffy’s own startled expression when he turned and asked if Zoro was about to sprout scales and wings too. There was open wonder on the captain’s face as he watched the dragons, a match to the look Zoro had caught one or twice before when he had fought. And although the night isn’t very cold, the swordsman can feel the warmth that suffuses him at that thought.
Ever since he fought Mihawk, and maybe even as far back as the time they shared alone together in the tiny rowboat, he’s felt himself growing closer and closer to the rubber teen. After several close calls, the thought of being without Luffy is actually harsh enough to cause him pain and so he’s stopped thinking about it. His trust is placed squarely on round shoulders and a smiling mouth and deceptive hands and more dreams than he ever could have imagined before his fateful stay in a marine yard. And even though his focus is internal, he doesn’t miss the soft slapping of sandals on the deck or the quiet touch of flesh to wood as hands stretch impossibly from thirty feet below him to catch on the side of the crow’s nest.
Luffy joins him, rather he bowls him over so that Zoro’s back is no longer against the mast and his feet are somehow over his head. He opens his mouth to scold him good naturedly, something about working on his landings, but Luffy is already grinning a lopsided grin and tugging him back upright. He settles in against the swordsman without a word and they sit in a comfortable silence. Zoro watches the blue-black waves as they form, swell, and collapse only to be born once more across the surface of the ocean. The sea, as they near the great landmass, is choppy even when it’s relatively calm. Absently Zoro thinks that this is what his thoughts have been like, what the rhythm his pulse is beating to is as he tries not to notice Luffy wiggling next to him.
The quiet is broken when Luffy speaks, his own eyes having been turned skyward. “It’s beautiful, almost like a whole ‘nother sea laid out above us.” He turns to look at his swordsman, lets his fingers gently linger on the white sword, on the back of Zoro’s hand. And Zoro doesn’t move away or tug his sword out of reach. Instead he pauses and chooses to look at his captain instead of the sky. Luffy knows what he really means when Zoro nods, makes a soft noise of agreement that leaves his lips gently parted.
They move together and even though Zoro’s swords are in the way and Luffy tastes strongly of the roast he’d snuck before he launched himself up, the instant they meet is perfect. Zoro reaches, pulls Luffy closer, and Luffy goes, gently feeling out the mouth against his own. Overhead the stars gleam brightly and below them the sea continues in its timeless dance. Between them two young pirates ignore it all and focus on their moment.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-10-25 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-26 05:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-25 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-26 01:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-26 01:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-05 04:34 pm (UTC)Luffy is rumpled in the pair of over-large pajamas Nami forced on him after seeing the shell-shocked looks on the faces of the chef and the swordsman. :D Yay for happy mental images!
and stop idly trying to tie all of his toes in knots This is so Luffy.
His hand moves unnoticed away from Wadou’s hilt and he misses the quiet, almost exasperated sigh that drifts up from the sword. Aww! Zoro’s sword is sad that Luffy didn’t fondle it!
Overhead the stars gleam brightly and below them the sea continues in its timeless dance. Between them two young pirates ignore it all and focus on their moment. And a lovely happy ending.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-06 07:52 am (UTC)