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Author of 12 Stories |
Calm Tempest
A One Piece Fan Fiction
By Sacred Sakura
Title Conceptualized: 8/17/2007
Story Conceptualized/Written: 8/16, 17/2007, 11/11-13/2007, 12/27-28/2007
Published: 12/28/2007
Rating: T
Genre: Angst/Action-Adventure/Romance
Disclaimer: I wanna own One Piece...but I don't. If I did, I'd be living happily in Alabasta tripping over random things and bumping into random marines all the time.
Dedication: Kudos to animelover and Nehszriah, last chapter's reviewers!
A/N: Yay! Zoro finally shows up in the present timeline! (of the story, not the series) I am so sorry that this chapter is unbearably late, but you know how school is for someone trying to apply for a college with TOTALLY AWESOME JAPANESE, ENGLISH, AND LINGUISTICS PROGRAMS! HD Wish me luck, and don't forget to R&R constructively!
"Must you go?" The dark-haired man's brow furrowed with concern. "It has only been a few weeks… Do you not think it is too soon to be leaving?"
The other man shook his head. "We have remained here for too long. Already we are beginning to leave 'traces.'"
"I still do not believe this is wise, but I have no choice but to trust your judgment." He paused, hesitant to utter the question on his lips.
The cloaked man already sensed what he was about to ask. "I am afraid I cannot tell you our next destination without endangering you and your pupils. The most I can say…is that we'll be stopping at other sea ports before moving on to the other Blues."
The bespectacled man nodded slightly, acknowledging that he understood. "Very well. I must not take any more of the little time you have left. Farewell, dear comrade."
"May we meet again."
As the two cloaked figures hurried across the long grass under cover of darkness, a pair of eyes stared after them. A faint shaft of moonlight shone on the figure's hand, revealing a black cloth that glowed green in his clenched fist.
"Ara—Shiei." The older figure's voice faltered a moment at the slip, then became firm. "You know the consequences of becoming conspicuous. We can't afford to let down our guard at the expense of others' safety."
"Then why don't we stop running?" Shiei hissed, halting. "Why can't we go back—and stop that madman once and for all?"
Yakusoku was forced to stop. "You're not strong enough to defeat him. You'll never become that strong until we enter the Grand Line—and that we can NEVER do." He picked up the pace once more.
"Why?" Shiei did not move. "Because you're trying to 'protect' me? Sorry, but I'm certain we both know you can't shield me from Kageki forever. You're becoming weaker and weaker each day; how much longer you'll be able to travel, I don't know, but you don't have very long."
The ash-haired man looked back, stopping again. "Shiei—"
"And don't try to feed me that shit about my not being strong enough. You're the very reason why I'm not strong enough, what with your over-protectiveness and all. Face it, Yakusoku." The prefix was left hanging. "You're holding me back. It's time I take control of my own future."
The stillness that hovered between them threatened to weigh the weaker down. The pale and dim moonlight cast ragged shadows over the two people and the beach surrounding them. The night-stained waves splashed loudly, but they heard nothing.
"You're right." He seemed to grow older with those words, more weary. "It's true that I've been striving toward protecting you. But perhaps you're right about another thing as well; that it may have been the worst thing I could ever do for you." He gritted his teeth against the anguish that threatened to overwhelm him. "I've been wrong to hinder your progress…but it was all I could think of since the day we escaped."
His knees sank into the sand as the desire to keep going left him. He suddenly felt as old as a man of a hundred years. "I…I don't… I don't know what to do anymore." He buried his face in his hands, appearing to Shiei as vulnerable as a child of five. "I'm sick of running, Arashi. I'm sick of living in fear all my life, worrying endlessly about you and Kaori and all the others we've come in contact with…"
"Yakusoku-sensei…" Shiei did not know how to react.
"I'm sick of this world, Arashi. I'm sick of everything that made and makes and will make this world the way it is. I just…I just want to go home."
She awoke to the warmth of clean bed sheets and a merrily crackling fire. She awoke to the sounds of rustling and bustling from the adjacent room, and to the tantalizing aroma of a bowl of soup on the tray beside her. She awoke to an unfamiliar wood-paneled ceiling, unfamiliar golden sunlight streaming through the open window, and unfamiliar hot pink pajamas on her person.
She awoke to an illusion.
It had to be a figment of her imagination, a product of insanity and deceit. It couldn't...it couldn't be...real.
Because she was dead.
Kageki had stripped her of her humanity, her peace of mind, and...her life.
She was dead. So where was she now? Heaven?
No, that was not possible. After all the lives she had taken—out of revenge, anger, desperation—, she did not deserve passage to the place where only the good of heart went. Her heart was black ice, and nothing so pure could ever accept an anathema so rank with impurity as her.
So, then. Hell?
The indescribable feeling of warmth and serenity that the room exuded evinced otherwise.
'Then...I must be in purgatory,' she finally decided. 'Although why I am to seek atonement in this...kind place...is beyond me...'
Arashi's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door across the foot of her bed. An unfamiliar woman entered, a thin old crone who appeared to have been endowed with youthful vigor—and a magnificent bust. She wore a white peasant blouse containing simple red ribbon trim with a matching red skirt. Also matching was the wide red ribbon tied about her silver-haired head. Her moderately wrinkled countenance brightened to see that the young woman was awake.
"So, dearie, how was that nap of yours?" she asked, striding forward with a light tapping of her walking stick, as if it was there only as an accessory. "Out like a log for nearly three days straight," she cackled with amusement.
"Where am I? Who are you?"
She cackled again. Arashi noticed that while the old woman's left eye was a vivid emerald green, her right opened only halfway and was a milky lime color.
"Well, you ain't in Heaven, and you ain't in Hell. You ain't in no purgatory either," the elderly woman replied, continuing to chuckle. "Truth be told, you're on the island of Háifoss. Welcome to my tavern, the Wandering Bird. Name's Makoto." She put forth a hand that looked much too young for her age. "Yours?"
"... Arashi." Awkwardly, the dark-haired girl took the hand and shook it. "I'm...still alive? I don't understand... How can that be? Last I remember, I..." She trailed off, unable to comprehend her situation.
"You'd lost nearly half your blood and were wounded like no tomorrow," Makoto finished for her. "Practically dead, but thanks to ol' Makoto here and that friend of yours—"
"What friend?" Arashi asked sharply, her gaze narrowing.
The elderly woman shrugged. "Beats me. All I know is, a young woman wearing a cloak carried you to my doorstep, asked for help, then collapsed. Pretty young thing, not much older than you, I'd say, and similar looks—pale white skin, silky black hair, slim yet firm build—save for those lovely violet eyes of hers."
'Kaori-sama...!'
"Anyways," continued Makoto, not noticing the shock that had manifested itself on Arashi's face, "I did my best in treating the both of you, but when I checked up on the young lady the next morning, she was gone."
"Kaori...sama..." Arashi's hands trembled.
"Oya, oya, what's this?" asked Makoto, finally taking notice of the girl's reaction. "What's the matter? You know something about this 'Kaori'?"
"She...she went back..." Arashi whispered hoarsely. A look of abject terror filled her eyes. "Why...did she go back? Didn't...didn't she realize the consequences? She'll...she'll die there! He'll kill her! That monster...will kill her!"
"Oya, oya, what do you think you're doing?" Makoto demanded, alarmed, as Arashi attempted to climb out of bed. "You're in no condition to go anywhere! And what's this about a monster?"
Arashi was frantic now, desperate and beyond reason. "He'll kill her! He'll kill her if I don't—if I don't—"
And then it hit her. "She's...already dead." She sank back down on the bed as reality finally penetrated her disbelieving mind. 'I should have realized...' "I'm too late."
And then she passed out.
Somehow Makoto must have sensed this, for as soon as she could make her way to the bathroom without uttering a single moan of pain, Arashi was immediately put to work at the Wandering Bird. First sweeping, then cleaning, then washing dishes and taking out the garbage. The soul-weary girl welcomed it all, if only for the sake of distraction.
By the end of the weak, she was promoted to waiting tables. Taking orders, carrying in trays of food and sake, taking out the remnants of customers' dining enjoyment, and ensuring that the tavern was at peace—in more ways than one.
"Make sure that bust of yours ain't spilling out when you're out there," warned the elderly woman as she straightened the front of Arashi's indigo-blue blouse and smoothed down the creases of her flowing dark brown skirt. "'Cause you gotta watch out for the pervs. They come in all shapes and sizes."
"That's…very comforting…"
"For starters, you got the Starers, who are bound to make a newbie like you uncomfortable. Then there are the Talkers, who like to voice their 'preferences.'"
"…but Makoto-baa…"
"Then you got Slappers—pretty easy to figure out what they do—and Gropers. They fit in the same category, in my book."
"…I am certain I can take care of my self just fine…"
"But worst of all are the Stalkers and Doers. Those you definitely gotta watch out for. If you don't keep your guard up, they'll either scare the living daylights out of you—or worse."
Arashi sighed. "Makoto-baasan, do you have any idea exactly why Kaori-sama dragged me all the way to your doorstep, the both of us drenched in blood and fatal wounds?"
The old woman leaned casually against her cane. "I have a feeling I'm about to find out."
"It's something you should know…because I can protect myself just fine…but even more importantly…so that you know just how much it endangers your safety for me to continue living here."
"Yay! A port!" cheered the dark-haired boy, his eager smile ousting the size of his straw hat by ten times. "Time to get some meat!" He leaped off the ram-like figurehead and made his way toward the smell of cooking food that only he could detect from this distance.
"What, my cooking ain't good enough for you?" a blond man sneered after the running boy, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"Oh, Sanji-kun…" wheedled a ginger-haired girl of eighteen, wrapping a seductive arm around the blond's neck, "we're out of some important cooking supplies; care to restock?" She dangled a small change purse from her free hand.
Sanji flushed with pleasure at her touch. "Hai! Nami-san! I shall carry out your every order!"
A green-haired man scoffed as Nami waved the giddily spinning blond good-bye. "Damn succubus, that's what you are." He ignored her pointed glare and began to walk off before she could shoot off a retort, muttering to himself, "Now where can I get some booze?"
The raven-haired woman still standing on the ship's deck smiled warmly at the diminutive reindeer. "Well, Chopper, out to buy more medicinal supplies while I watch the ship?"
"Unh," Chopper nodded in assent. "I want to see what herbs I can find that are unique to this island; I may find something useful."
"Then I'll see you all later."
"Luffy! COME BACK HERE! I WANT TO EAT TOOOOO!"
A lone girl sweeping at the back door of a medium-sized building caught his eye. "Oi! You!"
The girl looked up, alarmed. She had been in the process of readjusting the black kerchief around her head, so her hand was blocking her face.
"You know where I can find a tavern?"
The girl froze, paling. Then, without a word, and using the hand that held the broom, she pointed to the building beside her.
His brow was raised at her odd behavior, but he ignored it and decided that she was probably just freaked out that he had suddenly come from the woods asking for directions. Not that he looked like a madman or anything. He was just carrying around three katana, was all. "Thanks."
As the swordsman left, Arashi stared after him from behind her arm, never lowering it until she was certain he was twenty yards from plain view. As she did, she stared at her shaking limb.
Only the shout of "Akino!"—the name she had offered a skeptical Makoto, borrowed from someone she once vaguely knew—from somewhere within the kitchen roused her from her shocked daze.
"Hai, Makoto-baasan!"
But although she appeared to be ignoring him, she could not ignore the loud group of men that had just entered the tavern. They seated themselves wherever they wanted, literally tossing aside any unlucky customers sitting at their tables of choice. The biggest of the bunch—most likely the leader—pounded his fist on his table, shaking the entire tavern.
"Oi, oi! Where the hell's my damn customer service?"
"I'll be right there, sir!" Arashi set down the tray in her hand and made her way to the large man's table. "What would you like?"
He gave her body a once-over and grinned wickedly. "See me at my ship, and then we can talk about what I like." The rest of his gang laughed heartily at this.
She didn't miss a beat. "I meant for a meal, sir."
The man wrapped an arm around her waist. "How much would it cost to eat you up?"
Pushing the man away, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Sir, if you're not going to place an order, then I have to ask you to leave."
"Yeah?" the burly man sneered. "How do you plan on making me—with that towel of yours?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Please leave. I have asked you kindly, and if you do not comply, then I am not responsible for what follows."
"And if you don't shut up and do what I say," the man growled, brandishing a double-edged dagger, "then let's just say you're not gonna be giving me that uppity tone for much longer." And then, without warning, he brought the blade down.
A collective gasp filled the room as the young woman's blouse tore open. Taken aback by his audacity, she did not immediately react when the man single-handedly hoisted her over his shoulder and left the tavern with a satisfied chuckle.
"Let's get back to the ship; it seems I'm hungry for a little company now…"
Finally returning to her senses, Arashi sent a side kick into the man's face. The burly man toppled over without a single cry escaping from his lips.
"It's your fault," retorted the dark-haired girl, straightening her posture as she subconsciously held the towel to her chest. Her gaze shifted to the rest of the fallen man's gang. "I don't suppose any of you want to disregard my warning?"
The men stared as though gob-smacked before quickly returning to their senses. Remembering to pick their leader up on the way, they fled the village, high-tailing it to the foothills to get as far away from the Wandering Bird and its crazy, superhuman waitress as possible.
She let out a breath and then gave the onlookers a deadpan look. "Well? Are you customers or not? Make up your minds."
Now wearing a sable shirt that laced in the front collar, she gave the green-haired swordsman a deadpan look. "Oh, really? Says you and every other guy in this tavern."
He growled lightly, slightly irked by her petulant response. "That's not what I meant."
The dark-haired woman held up his beer glass. "Want a refill?"
"Yeah, that would be—Hey! Don't try to change the subject!" he yelled in indignation, standing up as the waitress headed for the kitchen. He walked after her with long, loping strides.
Just as she turned the corner, he had her against the wall, his right arm outstretched above her shoulder to block her way.
"You… You look too much like her," he murmured, his dark green eyes trained on her face. "The resemblance is too striking to ignore…"
"You're in my way," she muttered softly, trying unsuccessfully to avoid his penetrating gaze.
If only his eyes weren't such a deep, dark, bottomless emerald… If only she couldn't feel so distinctly the flushed body heat that radiated from every inch of his tanned skin… If only she couldn't smell that unique blend of musk, sweat, blood, masculinity and something else that his well-defined body always exuded… If only he wasn't, well, him.
"What's your name?" He stared into her ash-gray eyes, intent on finding the truth.
"…Akino," she managed to say.
His eyes narrowed. "I don't mean the name you use here. I mean your real name."
She was about to answer, helpless against his gaze, when quite suddenly, an all-too familiar walking stick thwacked Zoro on the head. The green-haired man released a stream of colorful expletives at the pain.
"That's what you get for harassing my employees!" scolded Makoto, her normally good-natured countenance transformed into a mask of ire-ridden disapproval. "Now get out of my kitchen, you young rapscallion!"
He fled from the old woman's jabbing stick, silently cursing himself for getting carried away. Of course she wouldn't be here. What were the odds? One in a million, to be sure. 'I'm an idiot for even thinking…'
"So who was that young whippersnapper?" Makoto demanded of Arashi. "He didn't do anything to you, I hope!"
The young woman faced her guardian, saying softly, confusedly, "Someone I knew once. But he doesn't appear to remem—"
Suddenly, a loud—and shocked—voice yelled out from the tavern, "OH MY GOD! IT'S RORONOA ZORO OF THE MUGIWARA KAIZOKUDAN!"
"Aw, hell…"
"Eh?" grunted the green-haired man, looking up from the katana he was polishing. "Oh." His voice muted into a tone of disinterested annoyance. "It's you."
"Well?"
He replaced the treasured meitou in its ivory-lacquered sheath. "What do you want to go there for?"
No hesitation. "Atonement."
"What?" Although he didn't know why, something inside him quickened. "How? By killing yourself? Not that I'd care if you did, but Sensei'd kill me."
"No." A pause. Fear? "An offering."
He sighed, annoyed that she was bothering him all the damn time.
"All right, I'll take you."
They reached the place where he had originally found her by noon. The site was fairly plain-looking. A few rocks and trees here and there, all draped in mounds of snow.
"… Where did you bury him?" the young woman asked softly, walking with care.
He gestured toward a nondescript mound of snow that would have otherwise been ignored, save for the presence of a sloppily made grave marker sticking out of the ground. "There."
She knelt before the makeshift grave, resting a shaking hand on the pure white snow. "Yukino…" 'I'm sorry I couldn't give you a proper burial. I should never have involved you in this mess. It's…it's my fault you died.'
The woman shook, not from the cold, but from silent grief. Tears never made their way to the snow. Instead, they remained trapped deep within a dark part of her heart, the lock unbreakable and the key lost long ago.
"Please, Yukino… Forgive me…"
Clarifications and the like, you know the drill...
the black bandanna: Fanon, okay? FANON. It's MY fanfic, so I can do what I like. That, and because I wanted Zoro there to witness their departure.
Yakusoku's speech: Corny, I know, but I had to do SOMETHING that fit this chapter's theme…
Mugiwara Kaizokudan: Yay! Zoro! (guilty look) …and the rest of the crew, of course. I'm sorry for skimping on Usopp's introduction to the chapter…
the moment: (Innocent look) What? I couldn't resist…
Makoto's lexica: I couldn't help it; I just HAD to have her say those words.
the last few sections: I seriously need to stop disrupting my sleeping patterns during my breaks. That's why (in my opinion, anyway) my chapters don't feel as great as they usually do. I'm not kidding.
