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It takes one second for the sword to penetrate. A drop of blood spreads across the dragon's scales, burning, sparkling with life until it fades and is lost in a purple puddle that quickly spreads out beneath him and turns black. Mihawk strokes Roronoa's cheek, lubricates dried bloodstains from his twitching nose and wet forehead, wrinkled beyond recognition. The boy has matured over the years of their painful separation, evolving from a perky, inept child who can barely hold a sword to a fine, brave, and determined warrior. Behind him, no doubt, dozens of battles, victories, ups and downs, now the head of the defeated monster he so passionately hated would be in the collection.
He's back! Perhaps the old dragon had hoped they would meet for too long to forbid himself from smiling on his deathbed.
«Dracule… Mihawk!»
Zoro's mouth is dry, his dark eyes glittering and running frantically, a violent shiver running through the boy's body. He draws his sword and tosses it aside.
His eyebrows arch in an agony of anger, blood rushes to his face, and Zoro cries out.
«Stop it! Stop making that look on your face! It's no fucking fun!»
He stares dazedly in place, but then falls to his knees in front of Michawk and rests his nose against his torn chest, his fingers gripping the ruffles of his shirt like a vise. The dying dragon strokes his apprentice's curls with a heavy hand and presses the top of his head to his cracked lips.
The spring grass is turning scarlet at dawn, a beautiful sight. But it is neither spring nor dawn.
«Who would have thought that I, my boy, would end up in your arms? Apparently, it's time for a change…» There was a kind, husky chuckle. Blood filled the dying man's lungs.
«Shut up, you silly old man, » а grit of tears falls from Zoro's face.
Their unintentional acquaintance occurred on the day when Mihawk returned to his castle in the middle of the night and met the flower basket at the door. It was a rare November snowfall. The snow slide had not yet had time to gather on the fabric that hid the white roses. Surprisingly, the basket was heavier than usual, but Mihawk paid no attention to it and began to sort out the warm roses. Suddenly the basket shook and someone in it screamed shrilly. Mihawk slowly approached and opened his eyes in amazement.
«Human child…»
Dragon looks at Zoro and sees him as the rosy-cheeked baby who has kept him awake many cold nights. He remembers putting him to bed and how unbearably similar the days were that Mihawk spent at the cradle.
Suddenly his baby is four. Time flies inexorably fast. It's a shame that Mihawk won't be able to walk with Zoro on the road of his life anymore.
«I love you!» the baby runs up behind him and bumps into his leg, revealing a toothless smile. Zoro is about to jump with the unbearable joy that overwhelms him.
This sudden jolt causes the wine to spill onto the floor.
«Zoro!» Mihawk raises his voice grudgingly and swipes the sweet drops from his hand. «Children are creatures of hell.»
In contrast, the big brown eyes shine like the brightest stars in the blue night sky, brighter than the dragon flames that have scorched more than one village to the ground, brighter than anything else. Looking into them, Mihawk softens when he sees the smiling reflection, and takes the little boy in his arms.
«And I love you, too, my tiny green treasure.»
Puffy arms wrap around his neck and squeeze as hard as they can. A hot red cheek presses against his face. Is this how children show their love? A mute embrace melts the icy heart of a dragon who hasn't felt real emotion in too long.
«When I glow up and become stlong and blave, I will save you flom the evil dlagon, and you will mally me!»
(Transcription: When I grow up and become strong and brave, I will save you from the evil dragon, and you will marry me!)
«I'll remind you in a couple of years,» Mihawk claps his palm on the green top.
«Don't you dare folget! Do you hear me?»
«Absolutely not.»
«You're good,» boy slaps him on the head too.
«Thank you, Zoro.»
Zoro could not match the gold or the gems that lay a mountain in the castle of Mihawk. The boy was perhaps the only treasure that made Hawkeye come home every time and guard him with all the love he could give.
When his boy turned thirteen, the first crack in their idyll appeared. Zoro came in beaten and tormented. Letting him go to the village had been a big mistake. Some brainiac had told the trusting child that he was a dragon spawn and had no place among humans. Zoro had a hard time accepting the news that Mihawk was the terrible dragon he had once threatened to kill.
That was the first time the man regretted that he had lied.
«No one wants to be friends with me because of you! I hate you! I hate you! You deserve to die, you fucking dragon!»
Zoro gets a lightning slap for his impertinent words. He staggers, but stands. A streak of blood drips from his cheek, split by a heavy ring, a drop, a grain of grenade, crashes against the stone floor. Zoro blushes and stares at Mihawk with his wild, clouded eyes.
«Go to your room now, you ungrateful wretch!»
When the boy leaves and the door rattles shut, Mihawk is no longer on his feet. Clutching his chest at his heart, he falls back into the chair and stares for a long time at the spot where the red drop of blood flashed in the light of the fire.
«If I loved you a little less, I never would have let you go to people…»
«So don't let go! Stay and I will stay! I will never leave again!» Zoro asks in a disruptive voice.
«This is not the place where you should bury yourself, Roronoa. I wish I had realized it too late… Go away! Death needs silence without your filthy swearing…»
At seventeen, their first kiss happened. Zoro pounced, embracing the returning Mihawk, kissed him on the lips, and shook him off frightened. It was embarrassing for both of them.
«Sunshine, what are you afraid of?» the dragon walked over to the pale boy and brushed away the loose strand of hair. He wanted to continue what he had started.
«Myself… hon, » Zoro lowers his eyes to the floor.
If only Mihawk had known what that «self» meant a little earlier! Their separation would not have been as bitter and cold as the blanket in the morning and the empty half of the bed.
All the while his heart ached, he wished he had never said goodbye to that arrogant brute who had filled his empty dragon soul with impunity, who had grown a beautiful garden of white roses inside, which were now sprinkled with tears and blood.
Zoro sobs, interlacing his fingers, hoping everything will be okay. Hot tears flow from his eyes. The hardest part is watching the most precious person in the world cry because of you. Mihawk hates the sight and himself.
«It's a good thing I got to look into your beautiful eyes one last time, » Hawkeye smiles and kisses the boy on the forehead. «I am grateful that the sword that pierced me was yours. At last you have ended this suffering, my… little green-haired treasure.»
Mihawk smiles, admiring Zoro for the last few minutes, until a calloused hand falls to the stone floor.
«The garden grown by your love, Zoro, was the most beautiful gift you left me…»
THE END.