Chapter 4: Each Scar Tells a Story

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Zoro woke up late the very next day. Everyone was exhausted from the night before no thanks to the baboons. One person gravely injured, another scared out of her mind, and last Zoro who’s just pissed off in general. Coming to this island has so far been nothing but trouble; the only upside though was you finally agreeing to allow your father to train Zoro in the arts of swordsmanship in which Zoro was down to heart grateful for. It’s only been a few short days since you both had met, and you’ve already made a lasting impression on him.

Once Zoro had gotten dress and had finally woken up, the swordsman began heading out of his bedroom within the mansion with a deep yawn that erupted from the depths of his stomach and a tear to his eye. Zoro had stopped within his tracks the second he had left the bedroom. The man of green cocked his head to one side, stepping before the wall of stone and ran a hand over the spray painted arrow of yellow occupying the wall that directed Zoro down the hall.

“It’s for you dummy!” Perona puffed out her lips and had her hands rested upon her hips. Zoro looked up and found the pink haired girl floating over head. “(Y/n) asked me to help her put arrows around the mansion to keep you from getting lost,” Perona explained quite briefly, yellow paint had stained her white attire.

“Oh…” Zoro looked down the corridor finding more arrows and a few of different colors. “That’s nice of her.”

Perona puffed out her lip upset to have gained no acknowledgement for helping out with the previous job. It made her wonder why she was even sticking around this place at all. “Hawk Girl also told me to tell you that she moved her bedroom since the baboons destroyed hers,” Perona gladly informed Zoro, hugging onto her plush kumasine about ready to bounce out of the hallway. “Yellow arrows are her bedroom, orange for bathroom, red for the exit and dining room that’s where you’ll find Mihawk the most according to him.”

“Thanks,” Zoro waved his hand meaning goodbye, following the yellow arrows the best to his ability to your new bedroom only one turn of the hallway away from his own. It was a lot closer to his than the first time around he had noted as he had found your door was half opened just like yesterday. Zoro pushed on the door and invited himself in with anger that had filled within him more and more second by second as he heard your pained cries.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Zoro rose his voice resting himself within the doorway to your new bedroom. You looked up from your chest with one eye closed, a curved needle in the other while you bit your lip.

“I won’t get better if I don’t stitch my injuries together,” your hands were visibly shaking from where Zoro stood. Now Zoro could get dense every now and then, but even he knew when to ask for help if he needed it.

Zoro sighed stepping forward. “You could’ve asked for help,” Zoro states, taking a seat on your bedside, snatching the curved needle and thread from your hands. You were shocked by how forceful yet thoughtful Zoro was to just steal the needle from your hands and mend your wounds.

“Nobody in this place has any knowledge of medicine besides my father… And I don’t want to bring this injury up to him,” you regret to admit, fearing the worst Mihawk cold do to Zoro because the baboons had learned one of his unique moves that they in turn used on you. Nothing would end well so to speak.

“If I could take care of the gaping slash across my chest after my fight with you and Mihawk without any doctors, I’m sure I can help you,” Zoro reassured.

“Good point,” you had to comment. “Thanks…” You sighed, resting down upon the bed, clutching onto the bed sheets every now and then since you weren’t accustomed to pain unlike Zoro. You’ve been dealing pain to others for years and years, even taken lives, instead of receiving pain like most should.

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