Authors Note: 8 Months… I'm breaking records of laziness here
There were a few glares, more of confusion than of angst or anger. Zoro could feel their eyes on his back. Why, Why did I forget? Why did I act like such a bumbling fool?
Yet after several days nobody questioned anymore. As with any event on the crew it would be masked in the shadows of the coming days. Fights were forgotten and replaced with new memories, new adventures, new shouts and screams from the rambunctious crew. Luffy and rest of the crew, with the exception of the worried doctor, forgot the threatening attitude which Zoro displayed. Maybe Nami remembered, in her nightmares in her fears, but she never mentioned it. Chopper on the other hand, pushed it off on exhaustion. He claimed Zoro overworked his body and his mind frantically fell behind. Chopper through out scientific claims but he knew there was something more to it, but he kept his voice silent. He would never admit it, but he was afraid of Zoro. That admiration of strength which he once held so dear had corrupted into fear- the fear of seeing Zoro at his worst, what he could do to the crew whether he was aware of it or not.
But Zoro knew there was more to it. His head aches were getting worse, but he held them to himself, squinting his eyes to block out the pain but only claiming it was the sunlight. Sleep no longer came as easily, only creeping in on the latest hours when his eyelids weighed of sunken bricks. Even the sweet sweat of working out became cruel to Zoro, exhausting and tired without rest. But it was more, he couldn't forget the event. He still saw Namis' eyes, with shrunken pupils and terror struck in the very corners. What was so strange, almost terrifying if the proud swordsman could ever dare to believe it, was how it was through some one else's eyes. Zoro could see the event unfold through the view of another. He could feel his hand, the cold sweat on nami's chest and neck, but he could not feel the control of his arm to rip it away. He saw the fear on the eyes of his crew every moment when he saw their faces. No longer did he pick meaningless fights with Sanjii, for every time that curly browed man showed his face near the swordsman, Zoro saw pity and confusion in his eyes.
Yes, there was something more but amongst the headaches and lack of sleep he had no desire to find out what. And then the dreams began to happen again.
The bodies lay littered across the ground, crumpled and thrown away, the belonging flesh blending into the dirt. Pale figures were lost in the dirt with bright red cuts drawing the attention away. Slashes were scraped across the bodies, deep-with malicious intent of death. Blood slowly oozed out of the wounds. Black dots were thrown across the bodies, the hardened blood leaving apparent traces of murder.
A small hat in the corner fluttered uselessly in the wind, a strange sense of weakness embodying it.
It was the same dream every night. The same bodies of his crew. Zoro's mind eye shirked back at the dead bodies of his crew, wincing almost in physical pain at seeing his deformed friend.
Next the dream gazed over his departed friends.
Several bodies toppled over, revealing their sun bleached faces and looks of anguish and fear. But mostly their displayed shock… and betrayal.
Open mouths and tears still stained the corpses.
Suddenly, a tall shadow grew over the corpses, the sun making it seem much larger than it appeared. A mossy green top could be seen, rearing in the bright sunlight. Bloodied swords dangled off of his hip, with the scent of death still lingering on them. His tan hands were died a dark red – the mark of bloodshed swarming over him.
He only stood over the figures for a second, before swiftly turning his back to the cemetery that formed before him. A white jacket flowed around his back, with the crude words of Justice scrawled across. Shadowed eyes hid underneath a black bandana, but a trace of a smile could be found on the lips.
The mossy topped man looked casually up to the sky, a hint of a smirk lining his features.
Yes, Zoro thought, my hair. My figure. The thought of doubt about whether that figure was him had faded away every time the dream resurfaced. It was his hair, thick in the spots where the moss had grown from sweat and thin in the tight curls where Zoro would pull at it in frustration.
His head began to pound at this point. He was resting under the starry night under the soft lull of the waves. Sleeping in a twisted position up in the crows nest.
The white jacket of justice, so blinding white, even through the copious blood stains. It fit him perfectly. Tailored down to the finest thread. It flowed right over his chest and shoulders without a single stretching seem. It was made for him.
Zoro's pulse quickened, his heart raced against his chest as his head began to pulse in time. Thumping, slamming against the walls of his mind.
His face wasn't quite blank. No, the mossy green brows were greased and the eyes were bright and open, but there was no spark of desire in them. The lips were curled unnaturally at the corners and the tan skin adopted a pink hue of sunburn on the creases of the eyes. It was his face, every pore and inch of skin was his. But it was not his smile of joy, or accomplishment, or pride.
Then the dream began to zoom out, something it rarely did. To Zoro's left was a man who looked grossly familiar. He had a stout figure, broad shoulders, and a wrinkled face that had been left out too long in the sunlight. So vaguely familiar, like he had been seen sometime recently, but Zoro could not place the face, the name, the man.
His head began to shriek, to seize and take deep breaths and find no air. His dream began to shake and in the realm of reality Zoro's body began to twitch, his head slinking down to the comfort of a wall.
Next the dream coasted over to the left of Zoro- Another man who was intensely familiar to Zoro. But he had seen this face a thousand times, in every dream and every nightmare that Zoro had ever had. The face, far too familiar to his own. The expression, far too familiar to his own. The man was far too familiar to him and it sickened him. A nauseous feeling overcame Zoro looking at the man and he urged the dream to move forward.
And move forward it did indeed, to a darkened shadowed hall. Light purged from the ground, illuminating barely the ground. The remainder of the world was black, swallowed by the negativity of light. Zoro stood there, helpless in his own dream, having never quite encountered this section of his dream world.
Footsteps marched forward, perfectly in time, ticking against the floor. Zoro looked but could barely make out the shape of the figure in the dark. Silence filled the darkened realm as Zoro found his own voice swollen and shut down. But he had no desire to talk, to speak any words to the mysterious being which stood in front of him.
Instead Zoro just stood there, listening to the humble breathing of the figure. In. Out. In. Out.
"Zoro." It spoke softly, the tone dripping disgust.
Zoro remained in silence but nodded, his body instantly responding to the voice.
His heart sunk. And suddenly the light from the ground shot out. The room swarmed in darkness. The figure vanished. Zoro was left alone in the darkness.
He wanted to scream out, to reach his hand out to the figure, to pull him back by the shoulders and bring him closer. To shout for him to wait, to come back, to not leave. But that didn't matter as reality loomed overhead.
Zoro awoke with a jolt, his body craning forward and his voice gasping for air, heart still pounding the throbbing in his head intensifying.
Cannons against his forehead
It screeched, high pitched tones which his ears ignored but his mind heard all too well and curled up inside, squeezing itself to keep the noise out.
Booms, pressing his eyes out his head.
Fingernails against the chalk dusted board of his mind.
"Make me proud." The voice said, this time reaching out into reality. Zoro opened his eyes from behind his palms, scouring the ships deck for the voice.
"What?" He choked out.
"Kill the pirate"
Then darkness fell in reality. Zoro felt the relief as his eyes closed the shocking noises against his head subsided. He weakly descended down the ladder, feeling his sword pressing into his side.
He wandered, without aim or purpose, yet knowing exactly where he was going. The foot steps were dark and heavy and his shuffle was dragged across the floor.
The boys room, filled with hammocks and dents from pillows tossed too hard against the wall. A drooling Luffy slept with his head hanging on the floor. Sanjii slept next to him with a beauty mask pressed against his faith. Usopp rested in an upper bunk, his arms drooping over both sides.
And then there was Chopper, so pettily fit into the oversized hammocks. A small snot bubble formed at the cusp of his nose.
And Zoro withdrew his sword, raising it above his head, preparing to plunge it into the sleeping, living, nest of fur that was his doctor.
Authors Note: So… Not really feeling this story too much anymore. Read Darkness in Zoro. It's a lot better. I'm not big on the whole "looses memories" because it makes the characters so out of character. Not sure why I ever even wrote this story. Darkness in Zoro goes a lot more in depth of Zoro's character and shows an actual transition of his character. Anyways, thanks for reading and sticking around with this crappy story.