Could you be man enough to be my man?
Feb. 25th, 2006 01:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianOne of these days, I will figure out why Sheryl Crow songs always remind me of Zoro.
Anyway, here's the cause of my antisocial behavior today. It's a bit like...okay, a lot like Tears on the Sleeve of a Man. But it's Zoro, and Zoro deserves his own stories, dammit.
Okay, so Johnny and Yosaku make an appearance in here too. But it's mostly Zoro.
Title: Unbreakable
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13.
“Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.”
Zoro gritted his teeth against the sobs that clawed at the back of his throat. How? Why? How could she? She was his goal, his promise, his everything…
…and now she was gone. Not just gone. Stupid gone. Not defeated honorably in combat—she’d tripped and fallen down the stairs. Something that should have ended in a few bruises and scrapes had instead broken her neck and taken her away before he had a chance to beat her. He never would, now. Last night, they had clasped hands, made a vow to be the greatest.
Now, suddenly, his hand was the only one left, and he was flailing. He needed something to hold on to.
That was what made him blurt out his request for her sword. It was a beautiful blade; he knew that from seeing it in action. More importantly, it and a crazy dream were all he had left of her.
Two thousand and one losses. Two thousand and one chances to beat her. He’d never get another.
He’d just have to beat the rest of the world instead.
He screamed that he would become so great that his name was known even in Heaven, and his sensei seemed to understand.
****
Zoro reeled backwards, feeling something hot and wet spatter his face, and knew that his opponent was dead.
The man had come at the boy, intending to rob him of the fine katana he carried, beat him, and leave him for dead by the side of the road. Someone who looked barely more than twelve couldn’t possibly be much of a threat.
The would-be thief had underestimated him, and had come at Zoro with lethal force when he fought back, a blade in each hand and Kuina’s precious sword in his mouth. For the first time in his life, Zoro had responded in kind. He felt the shock of the katana in his right hand cutting into bone, but not all the way through. The bandit made a particularly final-sounding gurgling noise and went silent.
When Zoro finally got the worst of the blood out of his eyes, he realized he’d nearly decapitated the other man. Had his reach been a bit longer, his arm a bit stronger, or his blow a bit cleaner, there would have been no “nearly” about it.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
And this one was definitely broken.
Zoro knew the other man had been planning on killing him. That didn’t stop his legs from giving out under him. It didn’t stop the tears from running down his face as he clutched Kuina’s sword to his chest.
There was no going back now.
****
Zoro was cold. He was wet. He was hungry. He was exhausted. And he was bleeding rather worryingly.
Not the way he’d wanted to spend his fifteenth birthday.
He taken on someone with a sword style he’d never seen before earlier today. Under an overcast November sky, he’d challenged someone twice his size and twice his age to a duel.
He’d come away the victor, but the big bastard had seemed convinced that if he was going down, Zoro was going with him. He’d pulled a dagger when Zoro had closed with him and it had taken Zoro a critical moment to disentangle one of his swords long enough to put an end to that (and to him). It had been just long enough for Zoro to get stabbed.
Stupid. Zoro wouldn’t be doing that again. He wished he hadn’t done it in the first place. Now it was raining, and he was walking to the next town to go get the leaking hole in his side patched up. Blood and rain on his skin, blood and rain oozing between the fingers of the hand he kept clamped to his side, blood and rain running down the white sheath of the katana at his side.
His muscles screamed protest as he forced himself to keep walking in defiance of blood loss and the strain he’d put them through earlier today. If he was going to be defeated by something as small as this, he didn’t deserve to be the world’s greatest.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
Zoro didn’t want to be human anymore.
****
Johnny and Yosaku slashed out like a single person in two bodies. It would have been far more impressive if Zoro had actually been where their blows landed.
As it was, the overbalanced pair went sprawling into each other and landed in a heap. Those bricks-on-sticks they called swords were excellent for the makeshift hack-and-slash fighting style they’d been using and could take a great deal of abuse, but they were heavy and if the bounty hunters missed their target—as they had done now—they tended to get dragged out of fighting stance by their own swords.
At least he couldn’t fault their teamwork.
Johnny’s mohawk was looking somewhat the worse for wear, and Yosaku’s frizzy blonde hair was all over the place. They were a mess, but they were picking themselves up again, absolutely determined to at least land a blow this time.
Zoro tried to hide his smile. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Was this what his sensei had felt when he had looked at a small green-haired boy who swore up and down that he would be the world’s greatest swordsman or die trying?
Johnny and Yosaku had smaller dreams than that, but they were still dreams. And they were his friends. He hadn’t had friends in a very long time. Friends were usually vulnerabilities, a soft spot to be attacked by anyone with the wit to see it. But when two people called you “Brother” and meant it seriously and followed you around everywhere, you couldn’t help but like them a little.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
He might as well try to make the humans he cared about a little less fragile.
****
Zoro could taste thick grit in the back of his throat from a rice ball that was more mud than rice. It made a nice contrast to the tang of blood and the aftertaste of his swallowed pride. His pride was nothing in comparison to his life. He wasn’t allowed to die yet. He had too much to do.
The boy in the straw hat smiled at him and said he was going to be the Pirate King, and for one brief moment Zoro didn’t doubt that it was true. In that one moment, he saw a universe of endless possibilities and this boy’s absolute, unwavering faith that every single one of them was open to someone with a dream and the will to chase it.
His natural suspicions kicked in a moment later, but some part of him—the part of him that drove him most mercilessly, the part of him that was still a small green-headed boy fighting against his sensei’s daughter and wanting more than anything else to beat her—was shaken, changed. That was the part of him that led him to acquiesce to the bulletproof man in front of him. He would become a pirate, a villain, a scourge upon the seas in the pursuit of his quest.
If this boy was to be Pirate King, then perhaps it was not such a bad thing to be a pirate after all.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
Not this one. In his travels, Zoro had finally found someone who wouldn’t break and wouldn’t allow him to. The Pirate King and the Greatest Swordsman in the World.
It had a nice ring to it.
Anyway, here's the cause of my antisocial behavior today. It's a bit like...okay, a lot like Tears on the Sleeve of a Man. But it's Zoro, and Zoro deserves his own stories, dammit.
Okay, so Johnny and Yosaku make an appearance in here too. But it's mostly Zoro.
Title: Unbreakable
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13.
“Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.”
Zoro gritted his teeth against the sobs that clawed at the back of his throat. How? Why? How could she? She was his goal, his promise, his everything…
…and now she was gone. Not just gone. Stupid gone. Not defeated honorably in combat—she’d tripped and fallen down the stairs. Something that should have ended in a few bruises and scrapes had instead broken her neck and taken her away before he had a chance to beat her. He never would, now. Last night, they had clasped hands, made a vow to be the greatest.
Now, suddenly, his hand was the only one left, and he was flailing. He needed something to hold on to.
That was what made him blurt out his request for her sword. It was a beautiful blade; he knew that from seeing it in action. More importantly, it and a crazy dream were all he had left of her.
Two thousand and one losses. Two thousand and one chances to beat her. He’d never get another.
He’d just have to beat the rest of the world instead.
He screamed that he would become so great that his name was known even in Heaven, and his sensei seemed to understand.
****
Zoro reeled backwards, feeling something hot and wet spatter his face, and knew that his opponent was dead.
The man had come at the boy, intending to rob him of the fine katana he carried, beat him, and leave him for dead by the side of the road. Someone who looked barely more than twelve couldn’t possibly be much of a threat.
The would-be thief had underestimated him, and had come at Zoro with lethal force when he fought back, a blade in each hand and Kuina’s precious sword in his mouth. For the first time in his life, Zoro had responded in kind. He felt the shock of the katana in his right hand cutting into bone, but not all the way through. The bandit made a particularly final-sounding gurgling noise and went silent.
When Zoro finally got the worst of the blood out of his eyes, he realized he’d nearly decapitated the other man. Had his reach been a bit longer, his arm a bit stronger, or his blow a bit cleaner, there would have been no “nearly” about it.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
And this one was definitely broken.
Zoro knew the other man had been planning on killing him. That didn’t stop his legs from giving out under him. It didn’t stop the tears from running down his face as he clutched Kuina’s sword to his chest.
There was no going back now.
****
Zoro was cold. He was wet. He was hungry. He was exhausted. And he was bleeding rather worryingly.
Not the way he’d wanted to spend his fifteenth birthday.
He taken on someone with a sword style he’d never seen before earlier today. Under an overcast November sky, he’d challenged someone twice his size and twice his age to a duel.
He’d come away the victor, but the big bastard had seemed convinced that if he was going down, Zoro was going with him. He’d pulled a dagger when Zoro had closed with him and it had taken Zoro a critical moment to disentangle one of his swords long enough to put an end to that (and to him). It had been just long enough for Zoro to get stabbed.
Stupid. Zoro wouldn’t be doing that again. He wished he hadn’t done it in the first place. Now it was raining, and he was walking to the next town to go get the leaking hole in his side patched up. Blood and rain on his skin, blood and rain oozing between the fingers of the hand he kept clamped to his side, blood and rain running down the white sheath of the katana at his side.
His muscles screamed protest as he forced himself to keep walking in defiance of blood loss and the strain he’d put them through earlier today. If he was going to be defeated by something as small as this, he didn’t deserve to be the world’s greatest.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
Zoro didn’t want to be human anymore.
****
Johnny and Yosaku slashed out like a single person in two bodies. It would have been far more impressive if Zoro had actually been where their blows landed.
As it was, the overbalanced pair went sprawling into each other and landed in a heap. Those bricks-on-sticks they called swords were excellent for the makeshift hack-and-slash fighting style they’d been using and could take a great deal of abuse, but they were heavy and if the bounty hunters missed their target—as they had done now—they tended to get dragged out of fighting stance by their own swords.
At least he couldn’t fault their teamwork.
Johnny’s mohawk was looking somewhat the worse for wear, and Yosaku’s frizzy blonde hair was all over the place. They were a mess, but they were picking themselves up again, absolutely determined to at least land a blow this time.
Zoro tried to hide his smile. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Was this what his sensei had felt when he had looked at a small green-haired boy who swore up and down that he would be the world’s greatest swordsman or die trying?
Johnny and Yosaku had smaller dreams than that, but they were still dreams. And they were his friends. He hadn’t had friends in a very long time. Friends were usually vulnerabilities, a soft spot to be attacked by anyone with the wit to see it. But when two people called you “Brother” and meant it seriously and followed you around everywhere, you couldn’t help but like them a little.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
He might as well try to make the humans he cared about a little less fragile.
****
Zoro could taste thick grit in the back of his throat from a rice ball that was more mud than rice. It made a nice contrast to the tang of blood and the aftertaste of his swallowed pride. His pride was nothing in comparison to his life. He wasn’t allowed to die yet. He had too much to do.
The boy in the straw hat smiled at him and said he was going to be the Pirate King, and for one brief moment Zoro didn’t doubt that it was true. In that one moment, he saw a universe of endless possibilities and this boy’s absolute, unwavering faith that every single one of them was open to someone with a dream and the will to chase it.
His natural suspicions kicked in a moment later, but some part of him—the part of him that drove him most mercilessly, the part of him that was still a small green-headed boy fighting against his sensei’s daughter and wanting more than anything else to beat her—was shaken, changed. That was the part of him that led him to acquiesce to the bulletproof man in front of him. He would become a pirate, a villain, a scourge upon the seas in the pursuit of his quest.
If this boy was to be Pirate King, then perhaps it was not such a bad thing to be a pirate after all.
Humans are fragile creatures, Zoro.
Not this one. In his travels, Zoro had finally found someone who wouldn’t break and wouldn’t allow him to. The Pirate King and the Greatest Swordsman in the World.
It had a nice ring to it.
