One Piece Fan Fiction ❯ Drawn ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

One Piece, it's characters and settings, belongs to Oda Eiichirou and Shonen Jump, and are being used here without permission. Rated PG-13 for language and violence, nothing more than One Piece usually has. C&C welcomed and greatly appreciated.

 

 

 

 

 

Drawn

Chapter 4

 

 

Zoro stopped, halfway standing, his hand still on the table from having pushed himself up. Despite his sudden frozen motion it took a moment for him to fully comprehend the words, and he turned to stare at the man who'd spoken them. “What?”

 

“One of them is a girl,” Ghost the Third repeated calmly, sipping his tea. “I'm just a ghost; I can only sense so much. But the three of us have been fighting with you—and together—for a while now.” A slow grin twisted his features. “And one of us is a girl.”

 

Zoro gulped faintly, but his mouth was dry. Everyone was staring at him in confusion—he could only guess at what his expression must have looked like. He felt as if his blood had left him. This time, he couldn't bring himself to reach for the sword at his hip. A girl's ghost…one who had died with a strong connection to his sword. The thought of it was making him ill.

 

“Zoro?” Usopp's voice drew him back. “Hey, are you all right?”

 

“Do you know who it is?” asked Chopper.

 

Zoro sat back down, his fists and jaw tight. “This is stupid,” he muttered, dropping his eyes. He suddenly couldn't force the memories from his mind; the round face and almond eyes. He shook his head.

 

Sanji puffed lightly on his cigarette. “You don't have to go through with it if you're scared.”

 

Zoro bit back a curse, scowling, as he snatched Snowrunner from his hip and slammed it down on the table. Everyone jumped a little. “Fine,” he growled, folding his arms over his chest. “I still don't think there's anything in it.”

 

Everyone—save Zoro—leaned in as Bravis pulled the sword closer to him. He clicked the sword out of its sheath a mere inch, just enough to press his thumb over the blade and draw blood. He then scooted a bit to the side as if making room for the impending ghost. A single drop of blood dripped from the small wound, and as it fell it began to glow, then held suspended in the air like a small bead dangling from a thread. The same high, eerie wail from before filled the small cabin and made Zoro cringe. He was already regretting having allowed this. He regretted it even more when a form took shape, and as its first action in its new body it leapt across the table, colliding with Zoro and sending him tumbling.

 

Everyone turned to stare in alarm, but the mood quickly changed into amused bewilderment. Sprawled across Zoro's chest was a young man dressed in a thick winter coat and woolen cap. His pale blue eyes were wide and bright, and his blond hair peeked out from under his hat in a subtle, but happy, bounce. “Brother!” the boy cried excitedly, and from on then would not stop talking. “It's you! I finally get to see you face to face! You're so much cooler than I thought—and that was pretty cool. Your hair is green! I didn't know! My coat is green! I'd forgotten! Can you believe I'm really here, because I can't believe you're really here. I'm so excited to be here—aren't you excited that I'm—”

 

“Shut up!” Zoro knocked the boy off him and struggled upright. “Who the hell are you!?”

 

The boy knelt beside him, his face practically aglow. “I'm Snowrunner!” he answered cheerily. “I used to have a name, but it's been so long I forget. Being a sword can do that. I'm not even sure what your name is! Isn't that funny? Is it cool? I bet it's really really—”

 

Zoro scowled, and Snowrunner recoiled, clapping gloved hands over his mouth. Even then he still talked through them. “Are you mad? I didn't mean to make you mad. I was just so excited to—”

 

“Enough.” Zoro shoved him, unmoved as the boy was bowled over like a wobbly puppy. “I don't know what you're talking about, and I'm not your brother.”

 

“Hey, you don't have to be mean to him,” Usopp protested, helping him up. He frowned thoughtfully. “Though he doesn't really look like a sword's ghost, does he?” He looked to Luffy, who was poking at Snowrunner's shoulder gingerly.

 

“He doesn't seem like a ghost,” the captain muttered, but when the boy flashed him a bright grin he dove behind Chopper once more.

 

“You're the captain, aren't you?” Snowrunner prattled on. “I remember fighting you. That was fun! Let's do it again sometime!”

 

Bravis was grinning, quite pleased with himself, which only strengthened Zoro's desire to punch someone's face in. Robin's charmed smile and Ghost's smug amusement weren't helping, either. He scratched the back of his head. “I don't believe this,” he sputtered. “My sword's possessed by a snot-nosed kid.”

 

“Oh, he's not that bad,” Robin chuckled. “I think he's adorable.”

 

“I'm sure.”

 

“Snowrunner,” Nami spoke up evenly. “You're pretty young, aren't you? Do you remember how you died?”

 

Snowrunner considered her question long and hard, his face screwed up in childish concentration. But when he finally related the story it was with no remorse or hesitation. “I was buried in the snow, I think. I was doing something important—taking that sword to someone who needed it. I ran errands like that. But all I really remember is…being so cold, and thinking…I had to get the sword to him.”

 

“To who?” Chopper asked, drawn in by the brief story.

 

Snowrunner laughed. “I don't know! Isn't that funny? It was important at the time, but I forgot. But I'm still haunting it, so maybe I never made it.”

 

“That's…” Nami frowned. “Doesn't it bother you? That you forgot something you died for…”

 

Snowrunner didn't need to think about that at all. “Not really. Since then I've had lots of owners.” He looked to Zoro with another broad grin. “But I like Brother the best.”

 

Sanji's lip curled in a grin as he caught Zoro's eye across the table, mouthing, “Your sword's a queer.”

 

Zoro shot him a glare that could kill small animals before turning his annoyance on Snowrunner. “Cut it out. I didn't even know you were in there—I'm not your friend.”

 

But again Usopp intervened, offering the boy some his food. Snowrunner eagerly accepted, again to Luffy's dismay, and Usopp proceeded to launch into his usual volley of tall tales; all of which he seemed to believe.

 

Zoro leaned back with a slight sigh, giving up his efforts. He knew he shouldn't have let Bravis go through with this; how was he supposed to fight, knowing his swords were so ridiculously possessed? Ghost was one thing, but Snowrunner…

 

“Hey,” said Chopper said suddenly. “Aren't you gonna test the other one?”

 

Zoro's heart skipped a beat as he glanced down at the sheathed Wadou. This sword had been with him since the beginning: before the Grand Line, before joining Luffy's crew, before even setting out on his quest. It had been his strength all this time, and he was loathe to risk damaging that connection between them. But the wide dark eyes from his memories didn't leave him, making him wonder…if those many years had been wasted, somehow. If he would merely be calling on a spirit who had long since forgotten his face and name, his promise….

 

But even then Zoro was setting Wadou the First carefully onto the table, capturing everyone's attention with his serious, deliberate movements. “Do it,” he instructed Bravis evenly. He drew his hand slowly from the white sheath.

 

Bravis regarded him quietly for a moment, his eyes taking on a solemn gleam; he seemed to understand that there was some greater significance in this action. Just as before he dropped a bit of blood onto the metal edge, eyes thinning in concentration. There was the same unearthly cry—Zoro closed his eyes briefly, until everything had settled once more and he was ready to face the results. Everyone was quiet, as if stunned, and at last Zoro lifted his gaze as well, already struggling with what his first words would be. Because sitting before him on the other side of the low table was…

 

…a million year old grandmother.

 

“Hey, Sonny,” she greeted with a toothy grin. “Weren't expecting me, were you?”

 

Zoro sat in shock, but a moment later the room fell into confusion: Luffy, Usopp, Chopper, and Snowrunner retreated with shared cries of “Demon Granny!” while the girls blinked stupidly and Sanji and Ghost doubled over with laughter. The old woman—who was actually of an intimidating physique considering her apparent age—was quickly on her feet in pursuit of her insulters. They scrambled for the door in a mess, and when it finally opened the group tumbled out onto the deck. There the chase continued, until their shouting nonsense could be heard all over the ship.

 

Gradually Sanji, Ghost, Robin, and Bravis wandered outside to watch the daring battle. Zoro barely noticed; he was watching Wadou, as if expecting another form to shape itself from the blood that still clung to its sharpened blade. As the carnage continued outside he realized how ridiculous he was being. With a snort he cleaned the smudge from his sword and replaced it—and Snowrunner—at his hip. “How stupid.”

 

Nami set a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped a little. He hadn't known she was still there. Worse than his embarrassment, though, was the sympathetic smile she offered him. “Not who you were hoping?”

 

Zoro snorted and pushed to his feet, shaking her hand off. “Not exactly, no.”

 

Nami followed, her eyes downcast despite her subtly curved lips. It reminded him suddenly of the bits of her past he knew, and with a frown he relaxed. “Hey. This is all just stupid, right? We don't need this.” He turned to head for the deck, and after a moment Nami nodded and followed.

 

“No ghosts on my ship!”

 

Zoro blinked, only mildly surprised as Snowrunner went sailing past him and smacked face first into the wall next to him. Across the deck Luffy was panting, while Chopper was doing his best to break up the stranglehold the old woman had on Usopp. Sanji was off to the side with Robin and Bravis, amused, and Ghost…was out of view. He would have said something about that if not for Luffy pointing at him suddenly.

 

“Zoro!” Luffy declared, his face impishly enraged. “It's your ghost—you take care of it!”

 

“Zo~ro~” Snowrunner complained at his feet. “Let's beat him up, like last time!”

 

“Zoro!” Usopp wailed from the other end of the ship. “Get her off me!”

 

“Zoro!” Sanji couldn't help but join in, but he started laughing and didn't finish.

 

“Ahh—shut up, all of you!” Zoro exploded, marching across the deck. He bypassed Snowrunner and Luffy, making his way toward the woman. He was angry—or had at least convinced himself as much, rather than try to think about what Nami had said. Not what he'd hoped for indeed.

 

As he approached the woman straightened, relinquishing her captive. Usopp whimpered and scampered off with Chopper to hide behind Robin. Zoro had to admit he wasn't fully prepared when the woman gathered herself up. At first glance she had seemed like a typical nagging grandmother; now that he had a chance to look, he could see she actually carried herself with a degree of sophistication the other two lacked. It reminded him briefly of Master Ohtori; she had that same still, yet somehow relaxed poise that came with age and wisdom. She was dressed in a simple shirt and pants, almost peasant-like, and her time-bleached hair was bound in a tight bun to her scalp. Her eyes, a simple brown, were sunk into her crinkled face like embedded marbles. Somehow they made her look even more ancient, and warmer. Despite all the accusations and questions he'd planned, he found they couldn't hold against her.

 

“So.” She took a step forward, and unconsciously Zoro took a step back. She smiled thinly. “After all these years, I get to meet the impetuous little boy who stole me from a noble lineage.”

 

Zoro started to speak, but his mouth was suddenly dry. He didn't realize or care that everyone was staring at him, baffled. He tried again. “Who are you?”

 

The elderly woman dipped her head in a slightly bow. “Wadou the First, as far as I know. If I had a name before that, it doesn't matter much now.” She set a hand on her hip. “Like I said, not what you expected?”

 

Zoro snorted, finally getting his composure back. He folded his arms over his chest. “So I guess you have a story, too. Why are you haunting my sword?”

 

“Because it's mine,” she replied smartly. “And someone had to take responsibility for it.”

 

Zoro frowned, oddly embarrassed by the woman as if having been chided by his own grandmother. But he realized then that if Wadou had been with him since the beginning, she'd known him longer than anyone else in his life. He wasn't sure what to make of it, and he was almost glad when Robin intervened.

 

“Does that mean you're really Wadou?” she asked, stepping forward. “Who forged the entire Wadou series of famous swords?”

 

The woman laughed heartily. “Me? Oh, no, dear, I never had the patience for smithing.” She mirrored Zoro's arm-crossed stance, making him frown. “But I knew the lad who did.”

 

Zoro snorted, not especially interested in whatever any of them had to say. He was tired and irritable, and he'd lost all his patience for these spirits. “Well, do whatever you want,” he muttered, turning away. “I don't give a damn.”

 

Everyone watched as he made his way across the deck, away from them. Wadou and Snowrunner looked especially disquieted by his retreat; the latter opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by a sharp glare. Blinking, he clamped his mouth shut as Zoro passed, heading toward the stern of the ship.

 

Usopp was the first to speak once he was at a significant distance. “Geez, what's his problem?”

 

“I'm sure he's fine,” Nami was quick to defend him.

 

Sanji frowned slightly at her. “Not like you to stick up for old Weed Head,” he muttered.

 

“Just give him a break, okay? It's already been a busy day for everyone.” She started away from the group as well. “I'll be in my study if anyone needs me, all right? I have some work to get done.”

 

Sanji watched her go with disappointment. “Well…okay.”

 

Robin, however, was determined not to let anyone spoil her excitement, nor her opportunity. She stepped closer to Wadou. “Do you mind talking with me for a while?” she asked, nearly beaming. “If you really are related to the original Wadou, there are so many questions I'd like to ask.”

 

“I wouldn't mind at all,” she replied easily enough, though her attention was diverted the way Zoro had gone. After a thoughtful moment she turned to face Robin squarely. “Though I might not be able to tell you much.”

 

“Anything would be fine.”

 

Robin and Wadou picked seats for themselves off to the side of the deck where they could share their stories in peace. They were quickly joined, however, by most of the rest of the crew. Luffy sat perched on the railing edge, close enough to hear while still maintaining his distance from the ghosts. He and Snowrunner continued to cast faces at each other. And as they settled in to hear Wadou's story, none of them realized that Ghost himself was nowhere in sight.

 

“Like I said, I was never one for smithing, myself,” Wadou began her story, seated with her arms and legs folded. “Not exactly a woman's profession, is it? But my husband was an expert. Not the best, by any reckoning, but a master in his own right. The real genius was our son.”

 

Robin, clearly the most interested of the current gathering, was nearly aglow. “You mean, you're the mother of one of the greatest sword craftsmen in history?”

 

“I suppose so, dear. We didn't share any blood, but I raised him from a babe—he was mine, and my husband taught him all he knew.” Wadou chuckled. “Even if he turned out to be the better craftsman, in the end.”

 

“Hmm. So that makes you pretty famous,” Usopp said thoughtfully. “You must have been really proud.”

 

Wadou's smile was nostalgic, her eyes wistful. “I was. So much so that I wanted to look after him—he was such a lonely boy despite his talents, at times. But then, it's a mother's prerogative to worry.”

 

“Do you…” Chopper began to ask, but then fell quiet, hesitant.

 

“Do I remember how I died?” Wadou hazarded, and when Chopper nodded she scratched the top of his nose affectionately. “I was old, as you can see. I'm afraid it's nothing as exciting as Snowrunner or Ghost.”

 

“It's still fascinating,” Robin interjected brightly. “I have a lot of questions I'd like to ask.”

 

Luffy, who had been kicking his feet boredly on the rail, dropped abruptly to the deck. “I'm hungry,” he declared.

 

Sanji rolled his eyes. “You just had lunch. Don't you wanna hear the story?”

 

“Not really. It's kinda boring.” He started away. “I'm gonna see what Zoro's up to.”

 

“Oh! I'm coming with you!” Snowrunner was immediately on his feet, starting after him.

 

“No! No ghosts—go away!”

 

“But Lu~ffy!”

 

Luffy retreated, but Snowrunner was swiftly on his tail; true to his name, his speed allowed him to keep up to the nimble captain. The rest of the crew watched in amusement.

 

“Well, I guess I can get started with dinner, since we have so many guests,” Sanji suggested, pushing to his feet. “I think I'll check on Miss Nami, too, while I'm at it.”

 

As the group thinned out a bit, Usopp turned his attention away from the two older women; he didn't know much history, anyway, and didn't want to disrupt their serious conversation. Instead he asked of Bravis, “So, you're kind of wanted on Oyomi, aren't you? Because you're a Devil Fruit User?”

 

“The people here are pretty strict about it, yeah.” He shrugged. “I can stay ahead of them.”

 

“Why not just leave the island?”

 

“Because…” Bravis's expression didn't falter, but his face—already so pale—seemed to lose a little more of its color. “I can't. There's something I came here to do.”

 

Chopper edged closer curiously. “What's that?”

 

“There's a ghost I wanna call,” he explained, but slowly, as if measuring the worth of each word. “You guys know about the swords on Oyomi, don't you? And the dojos?”

 

Usopp nodded. “Yeah—whoever gets the sword runs the city, right?”

 

“Yes. Each city has one, but there's an even older sword that decides who rules the island—Shinkokuon Oyomitou.” His voice quickened in excitement. “It's as old as this country—can you imagine what kinds of ghosts it has with it? It must be amazing!”

 

“So you want to see it?” Usopp mused. “Gee, no wonder they don't like you, if it's so important. But why don't you just explain what you want to do? Wouldn't they want to talk to their old ghosts?”

 

Bravis shook his head glumly. “Not since I'd have to use my Devil's Fruit power on it—it's a national treasure. Besides…” He smiled shyly. “I tried to steal it before—and Magatou. That's how the marines recognized us. But I can't leave without that sword.”

 

Usopp, being the hero he was, considered their new friend's plight with grave seriousness. “Well, I guess there's no other choice—we'll have to help you.”

 

“Huh? With what?”

 

“Getting that sword, of course!” he declared. “We're pirates, aren't we?”

 

Chopper frowned thoughtfully. “But it's important to them, isn't it?”

 

“We'd just have to borrow it for a little while, right? How hard could it be?”

 

Bravis was stunned, but beaming. “You…really mean it? You'll help me?”

 

“Of course! It's your dream, right? I'm sure Luffy would agree.” But when Usopp turned to gain his captain's approval he found the boy still being pursued by the rambunctious ghost. “Uh…we'll talk to him later.”

 

“Wow, thanks!”

 

Nearby, Robin and Wadou were watching the same childish antics with amusement. “The three of you must make an interesting team,” the former remarked. “It's really not surprising that Zoro's sword work is so extreme.”

 

“We have very little to do with it,” Wadou assured her with a gentle smile. “We're only ghosts inside swords, and can only do so much.”

 

Robin turned back. “It's a little surprising, though, how you remember so much about your life, but Snowrunner doesn't even know his real name. Do some ghosts remember differently than others?”

 

“Who can say? I'm certainly no expert.” The elder woman flashed her a grin. “But when you get to the age I was, you're practically a ghost anyway, so maybe I had an advantage.”

 

“Ah, I see,” she chuckled.

 

“But that boy…” Wadou's humor faded a little. “He was young, as you can see. Someone like him shouldn't have become a ghost—I'm not surprised he doesn't remember much. That sword, and Zoro, are his whole world now.”

 

Robin sobered a little as well. “I can't imagine what that must be like.”

 

Wadou chuckled as she glanced at her sideways. “You will,” she assured, “if you stay with this crew long enough.”

 

“Ahh, enough!” Luffy flopped on his back on the deck, gasping for breath. “I don't like ghosts,” he whined. “They're sneaky.”

 

Snowrunner dropped down beside him, leaning back on his hands. “You're funny,” he laughed. “Let's fight again sometime.”

 

Luffy rubbed at his nose. “You remember that, but not your own name?” He snorted. “How stupid.”

 

The boy stuck his tongue out at him. “It's not easy being a ghost, you know. I only remember the important stuff.”

 

“Stu~pid.”

 

“You're stupid.”

 

“Nuh-uh.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Nuh-uh.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“This is boring.” Luffy rolled onto his side, away from him. “Go bother Zoro—you're his ghost, right?”

 

Snowrunner paused, watching the other's turned back. Luffy didn't see his quiet smile. “Yeah. Hey.” He leaned forward, crossing his legs. “Can I call you `captain'?”

 

The question deserved more consideration than Luffy felt like giving, but he didn't reply right away. “Well…you're with Zoro,” he answered reluctantly, “so I guess it's okay.”

 

Snowrunner straightened; he was grinning and quite proud of himself. “Captain,” he tested, and with a swell of pride said again, “Hey, Captain.”

 

“Ah, what, ya' bum?” Luffy growled in his best stereotypical pirate voice, which reduced the other to wild laughter.

 

“I'm a pirate!” he crowed excitedly, rolling across the deck. “I'm a pirate—with a captain!”

 

Luffy glanced over his shoulder at the celebration. He was quiet for a long moment, just watching; from the look of him, it would have been impossible to tell Snowrunner was really dead. “You'd better be a good sword for Zoro,” he reminded.

 

“Oh, I will—I will! Brother's my favorite master ever. I don't know anything about sword fighting, but I'm really fast.” Snowrunner grinned happily in childish excitement. “That's why we've never lost! Though it was kinda scary, at times. But Brother's so cool! He's the best!”

 

Luffy curled on his side once more, pillowing his head on his arm. “I'm going to sleep,” he informed the ghost decidedly. And with that he tugged his hat firmly over his face, blocking out the harsh sunlight along with the ghost's yet chattering voice.

 

-------------

 

As far as Zoro was concerned there were three ways of dealing with stress—sleep, beer, and training. For now he chose the last, being too restless for the alternatives. While the rest of the crew sat down to enjoy their little story hour he stole away to the ship's stern, laying his weapons aside in favor of his exercise weights. He sent the trio of swords a sharp glare as he began his familiar stretches and warm-up swings. The weights felt almost lighter than usual, and he moved them in wide arcs over his head, working the excess emotion out of his limbs.

 

“Damn nonsense,” he muttered to himself. Ghosts in his swords, now on the ship—Luffy had been right to protest it all. They hadn't accomplished anything. Hopefully the day would pass quickly, ending the twenty-four hour time limit and granting him some peace back. “Stupid, boring ghosts.”

 

“You're gonna wear yourself out like that.”

 

Zoro's eyes narrowed but he didn't halt his motion, trying to ignore Ghost's voice scratching at his eardrums. Maybe he wasn't the very least of people Zoro felt like talking to at this moment, but he was close. “Mind your own business,” he muttered back. He did, however, sneak a glance at the man: Ghost was leaning against the railing, peeling a tangerine from Nami's orchard. “Sanji'll toss you overboard if he catches you with that,” he warned.

 

“Now who needs to mind his own business?”

 

Zoro scowled. “What do you want?”

 

“Oh, nothing.” Ghost tossed pieces of the peel over the rail, eyeing the fruit hungrily as it was gradually uncovered. “I was just thinking maybe I should have taken your arm when I had the chance.”

 

This time Zoro did halt, setting the heavy weights down with a clang. He was in no mood for this. “You're welcomed to try it in person,” he challenged.

 

Ghost met him glare for glare, his eyes slanting dangerously; he was clearly tempted by the offer. “Are you sure?” he replied smoothly. “As your sword, I know your strength better than anyone.”

 

“Only a third of it, asshole,” Zoro shot back. “So lay off the mystic ghost crap. I'm not gonna play games with you.”

 

Ghost shrugged, breaking the tension between them. “Sure,” he chuckled. “I'm just teasing—I wouldn't have cut your arm off. I have to say, you're pretty bold.”

 

Zoro hmphed with indifference. Their first meeting in Logue Town seemed like a long time ago, but he remembered well that moment of decision. So much for believing in his own luck. “Yeah, well, what can I say.” He realized suddenly how much he was sweating even from the short exercise, and stripped out of his shirt and haramaki before returning to his weights.

 

Ghost's attention focused sharply on the scar crossing Zoro's chest; Zoro could feel those dark eyes heavily on him. But a few moments passed in silence, and when Ghost spoke again it was to shift the subject. “You're a lot like I imagined, Rolonoah Zoro,” he said thoughtfully.

 

“Is that so?” He wanted to ask what he meant by that, but it might only prolong their conversation. As it became clear that Ghost had no intention of leaving him alone he decided to at least settle some of the questions he had. “So, you're really from this island?” he asked idly. “Your clan must have been something, if people recognize you by your clothes a hundred years later.”

 

Ghost the Third finally set into eating his tangerine, unconcerned with the question. “Damn right. We were in power for a long time—back when anyone gave a shit who ruled them. We held Oyomitou for decades.”

 

“Oyomitou?” Zoro echoed.

 

“The sword that proves which family rules the island.”

 

“Oh.” Zoro frowned; he still thought it was a dumb idea. “So you argue for the cities and the island. How ridiculous.”

 

“We fought for it back then,” Ghost objected. “We were warriors. Not like now.”

 

“So what happened?”

 

“That…” A look of disgust flashed across the man's tattooed face, and he glanced spitefully away. “I don't remember all that clearly, except for the bastard that killed me,” he snarled.

 

Zoro, a bit startled by the sudden vehemence in that voice, almost hesitated in his practice, again reminded of Ghost's origin and the warnings he'd received. But before he could decide what to do, whether question further or drop the subject completely, Ghost was speaking again.

 

“I do remember,” he began abruptly, a tone of ominous humor in his voice, “how I used to be, though. All the training, the fighting.” He tipped his chin up. “I was a lot like you.”

 

“You don't know me,” Zoro shot back quickly, his eyes narrowed. His movements become more violent.

 

Ghost persisted. “I know enough. I know the way your hand clenches over a sword handle, the feel of your sweat. The way your grip tenses just before the blade hits.” His eyebrow arched teasingly. “That may be your greatest weakness, you know; you tense up.”

 

“I don't—” Zoro started to contradict, but he realized than that his knuckles were whitening around the wooden handle of his training weights. He forced himself to calm down; he wasn't gong to let this man get to him, when he knew so little. “I win. So you shouldn't complain.”

 

Ghost chuckled infuriatingly. “I'm not, because I do the same thing. It just means we're the same, Rolonoah.” His lip curled. “The kill excites us.”

 

Zoro stopped again; he was a little out of breath from his unusually strenuous exercise, and he waited until his composure had returned in full to reply. “Like I said—you don't know me.”

 

“Don't I?” Ghost stood straighter, stepping closer with that same sickening grin. “Come on, Rolonoah, you know what I'm talking about. You wouldn't have made it this far if you didn't like the thrill of the fight—of clashing swords. As a ghost I may not know much, but I can sense certain things; determination, frustration, excitement. The desire to be strong. How nostalgic.”

 

Zoro continued to glare at him, unfaltering. He wouldn't deny that it was true; this was his purpose and his ambition, and he wasn't ashamed. His lip even quirked. “And…?”

 

The pair stared each other down a moment more, silent and somewhat tense, until Ghost laughed abruptly and clapped Zoro on the shoulder. “I picked good with you, didn't I?” he joked. “Next time we land, we'll have to have a drink in town together.”

 

Zoro snorted, shaking him off. “You can't go into town—you're wanted, you know.” He wiped the sweat from his brow and paused abruptly, frowning. “How is that, anyway? Your clan's a hundred years old, right?” Ghost sent him a sharp glare but he continued anyway. “Those people—that marine—knew you, more than just through legends, not to mention Bravis knows you. Unless that kid's over a hundred years old…”

 

Ghost lifted an eyebrow, then chuckled deeply. “Yeah, you got us—Bravis and I have worked together before. You weren't the first one to own that sword, you know.” He pushed away from the railing and started off. “But then, that's something you'll have to ask Bravis about—I was just playing along.”

 

Zoro watched him go with a frown; Ghost's casual secrecy was putting him on edge once more. He couldn't help but feel that there was more going on with the pair than what they were letting on. “Hey Ghost,” he called, bringing him to a halt. His voice lowered seriously. “You'd better not cause trouble on this ship.”

 

Ghost didn't glance back, but Zoro could almost feel the smirk in his voice when he replied, “Wouldn't dream of it.”