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dethoratsThink this came from the earlier, lonely post. One Piece drabble, 832 words, Zoro-centric and a bit of a what-if
Alone. The word was simple, two syllables, five letters. Yet it encompassed so much. He’d been alone before. But it had never been like this, this feeling of being utterly forsaken. Even when she had died, there had been his master and the dojo and above all the promise. But now, now he had nothing. Not even that vow which had sustained him through hell and out the other side of death.
Mihawk was dead, but not by his hand. And not by the hand of another, someone else towards whom he could strive, with whom he could fulfill his dream. It was nature which had triumphed over the man whose very presence filled hearts with dread. A freak storm, and even the swordmaster’s unnatural powers had not been enough. The Grand Line had claimed another life; the sea wasn’t particular of the lives it claimed, taking the best as well as the least. He hadn’t seen it, not directly, but the news reached him swiftly.
He’d come to the island in search of his destiny, knowing Mihawk was there. The local fishermen who had returned with his battered little craft hadn’t had to tell him. The man’s hat, plume sodden and racked with salt, had washed to shore at his feet that morning as he watched the storm travel across the waves. And he’d known for certain then what the horrible ache in his scar had been trying to tell him in the night as the squall ravaged the island. The position of the greatest was empty, but it wasn’t right for him to claim it. Even if he defeated all who challenged him, it still wouldn’t be enough.
He faced the sea, glaring at it, jaw clenched against the raw yell that swelled in his throat. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair that he’d never get the chance to face the man again. Wasn’t fair that Kuina had died before her time, before either of them had reached their true potential. His sense of honor railed at the world, at the senselessness of it all. And what was he to do now?
Luffy and the crew were gone, sailing further down the Grand Line towards their destinies. He’d left, as he had told Luffy he might do at the very outset of their journey. It was time to face Mihawk. He’d felt it, felt ready. When news had reached the Going Merry of the man’s presence, Luffy had been ready to turn the ship, to take everyone to seek out Zoro’s dream. But then news had reached them, barely a day after they’d changed directions and headed for Mihawk. News of Shanks, of Usopp’s father, of an epic struggle against the Marines and the World Government.
Of course they had to go. He knew that. But he couldn’t go with them. The time to face Mihawk had come. The same brief burst of fear was there, a spark at the base of his spine. But this time it wasn’t jagged overconfidence or a heady rush of excitement and a need to test his skills that propelled him. He KNEW this time. It would be close, very close, but he could do it. Had to do it. With only a bit of regret he’d watched them go. It would be hard to catch up with them, but he’d return to Luffy’s side, this time as the greatest swordsman in the world.
But that was all gone. Lost in an instant of frigid water and striking lightning. Even if he did manage to find them, what good would it do? He didn’t have that commonality anymore, that shared desire to strive for a nearly impossible dream. He stirred, finally, from the rocks. All day he had sat, twisting the hat in his hands and staring out at the waves, hoping for the impossible. But now the tide was coming in, sopping over his boots and soaking his pants.
It was dusk, the light failing as he stood. Almost he hadn’t’ bothered. What was the point? But Kuina’s memory and his swords didn’t deserve to be lost like that. With a shake of his head, he walked back towards the small inn. And then, behind him, he heard one of the local children shout, heard the excited, half-frightened tone at the cry of “Pirates!” On the edge of the horizon, he could just barely make it out. A small caravel.
Its sail bore the familiar insignia of skull, crossbones, and straw hat. But where that same symbol should have floated atop the mast was a new flag. Another familiar banner, and he felt his pulse speed. Then he laughed, loud and with a manic note so that the locals edged away. It seems that fate wasn’t finished with him yet. And he ran down to the main dock, and stood, arms raised above his head as if to guide the ship in, with Mihawk’s hat in one hand and Luffy’s name on his lips.
Alone. The word was simple, two syllables, five letters. Yet it encompassed so much. He’d been alone before. But it had never been like this, this feeling of being utterly forsaken. Even when she had died, there had been his master and the dojo and above all the promise. But now, now he had nothing. Not even that vow which had sustained him through hell and out the other side of death.
Mihawk was dead, but not by his hand. And not by the hand of another, someone else towards whom he could strive, with whom he could fulfill his dream. It was nature which had triumphed over the man whose very presence filled hearts with dread. A freak storm, and even the swordmaster’s unnatural powers had not been enough. The Grand Line had claimed another life; the sea wasn’t particular of the lives it claimed, taking the best as well as the least. He hadn’t seen it, not directly, but the news reached him swiftly.
He’d come to the island in search of his destiny, knowing Mihawk was there. The local fishermen who had returned with his battered little craft hadn’t had to tell him. The man’s hat, plume sodden and racked with salt, had washed to shore at his feet that morning as he watched the storm travel across the waves. And he’d known for certain then what the horrible ache in his scar had been trying to tell him in the night as the squall ravaged the island. The position of the greatest was empty, but it wasn’t right for him to claim it. Even if he defeated all who challenged him, it still wouldn’t be enough.
He faced the sea, glaring at it, jaw clenched against the raw yell that swelled in his throat. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair that he’d never get the chance to face the man again. Wasn’t fair that Kuina had died before her time, before either of them had reached their true potential. His sense of honor railed at the world, at the senselessness of it all. And what was he to do now?
Luffy and the crew were gone, sailing further down the Grand Line towards their destinies. He’d left, as he had told Luffy he might do at the very outset of their journey. It was time to face Mihawk. He’d felt it, felt ready. When news had reached the Going Merry of the man’s presence, Luffy had been ready to turn the ship, to take everyone to seek out Zoro’s dream. But then news had reached them, barely a day after they’d changed directions and headed for Mihawk. News of Shanks, of Usopp’s father, of an epic struggle against the Marines and the World Government.
Of course they had to go. He knew that. But he couldn’t go with them. The time to face Mihawk had come. The same brief burst of fear was there, a spark at the base of his spine. But this time it wasn’t jagged overconfidence or a heady rush of excitement and a need to test his skills that propelled him. He KNEW this time. It would be close, very close, but he could do it. Had to do it. With only a bit of regret he’d watched them go. It would be hard to catch up with them, but he’d return to Luffy’s side, this time as the greatest swordsman in the world.
But that was all gone. Lost in an instant of frigid water and striking lightning. Even if he did manage to find them, what good would it do? He didn’t have that commonality anymore, that shared desire to strive for a nearly impossible dream. He stirred, finally, from the rocks. All day he had sat, twisting the hat in his hands and staring out at the waves, hoping for the impossible. But now the tide was coming in, sopping over his boots and soaking his pants.
It was dusk, the light failing as he stood. Almost he hadn’t’ bothered. What was the point? But Kuina’s memory and his swords didn’t deserve to be lost like that. With a shake of his head, he walked back towards the small inn. And then, behind him, he heard one of the local children shout, heard the excited, half-frightened tone at the cry of “Pirates!” On the edge of the horizon, he could just barely make it out. A small caravel.
Its sail bore the familiar insignia of skull, crossbones, and straw hat. But where that same symbol should have floated atop the mast was a new flag. Another familiar banner, and he felt his pulse speed. Then he laughed, loud and with a manic note so that the locals edged away. It seems that fate wasn’t finished with him yet. And he ran down to the main dock, and stood, arms raised above his head as if to guide the ship in, with Mihawk’s hat in one hand and Luffy’s name on his lips.
