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Stumbling over gnarled roots, Robin was certain her ankle was, at best, severely sprained. Every step was a bolt of lightning through her foot, and being led like a dog through the rough terrain certainly didn’t help matters. It was a wonder she could even stand at all after nearly two weeks of imprisonment, subjected to whatever beatings the Chief of Cipher Pol 9 found suitable. While Spandam’s agents examined the journals they’d confiscated from her, he took it upon himself to dole out his own form of interrogation, fracturing ribs and breaking a wrist amongst them.
It’s your own fault for getting caught.
Robin grit her teeth at the thought, glaring at the too tight cuffs binding her hands together. Perhaps it was inevitable that the World Government would catch up to her. She’d gotten too comfortable, too sure of her own abilities after over a decade of being on the run, and loathe as she was to admit it, too eager to follow up on a tip about Wano artifacts. It was too good to be true, all of her research lining up with the old woman’s account just a little too neatly. If she hadn’t been running on scavenged food and two hours of sleep, she would have recognized the woman as a government plant, but that didn’t matter now.
And this is the price you must pay for your hubris.
Robin gasped as the chain around her neck was suddenly pulled taut, jerking her forward without warning. She glared at the offending Cipher Pol agent — Lucci, if she remembered correctly — and winced as the metal chafed against her skin.
“Pick up the pace, Nico Robin,” he said with a sneer, hardly giving her any time to adjust before continuing his long strides.
Casting her gaze towards the tree line, Robin could just make out the dilapidated roof of their destination: the infamous Temple of Asura. Her heart pounded at the prospect of entering its ruins, uncovering a wealth of knowledge that had been missing from historical records for at least two centuries. The joy of accomplishing such a goal, however, was undermined by the fact that she was leading the World Government straight to it. And whatever use they had for that knowledge, Robin knew no good would come from it.
Not that you’ll be alive to see it.
No, if Cipher Pol 9 got their way, this temple would be her tomb. She was expendable, her sole purpose being that of an offering to the ancient god for whom the temple honored. Why they wanted to summon a war deity of a practice that had long since died out, she couldn’t even begin to fathom. Trying to gather information about their plans during her imprisonment had been a fruitless endeavor; days of starvation and torture had seen to that. In spite of the summer heat, she shivered at the memory.
Robin sat on the cold stone floor of her cell, arms chained uncomfortably above her head. Between the droning voice of her interrogator and the never ending chill seeping into her bones, it was growing increasingly difficult to stay focused.
“What is the significance of the moon’s phases?”
Robin kept her gaze on the floor, counting the cracks in the stone. She couldn’t break, not when she was so close to her goal. She would get out of this prison, she had to.
Lucci grabbed her roughly by the face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes held no emotion, not even a trace of frustration at her refusal to answer. “If you won’t tell me what I want to know, I have no further use for you.”
Robin squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to quell her fear. You will not die here.
The man sighed and released his hold on her. “I suppose I have no use for your journal, either. Kalifa.”
Robin’s eyes snapped open at the mention of her notes. Another agent, a woman with glasses and long, blonde hair, entered the room, looking especially pleased by Robin’s state. “Yes?”
“Take Ms. Nico’s journal to the incinerator. We won’t be needing it any longer, and I don’t want to risk someone else getting their hands on it.”
Robin balked at his words, panicking as Kalifa took the book from him without hesitation. “No!” she screamed, pulling harshly at her chains. “Those notes contain years worth of research! You bastard, you can’t—“
Lucci backhanded her before gripping her jaw even tighter than before. “If you care so much about preserving your notes, then you’ll answer my questions.”
A whimper escaped her lips as the strike landed, reigniting the sting of a recent laceration on her cheek. She could lie and tell them the moon was merely a symbol associated with Wano’s war deity, or insist that her drawings were a reference to another god entirely. But her head ached, and her ears were ringing, and it was so hard to think. Knowing they would see through her deception, Robin let out a defeated sigh.
“Each phase of the moon is… it’s all preparation for the Shingetsu ritual. A sacrifice is chosen on the night of the first quarter.” She paused, straining to remember her own notes. “The waning… waning crescent… the ritual bath… And the offering is made on the night of the new moon. The Demon God is believed to—“
“I see,” he interrupted, letting go of her and rising to his full height. “That gives us a little less than two weeks to prepare.”
Robin stared incredulously at his retreating figure. “Prepare for what?”
“For the sacrifice to Lord Zoro, of course,” he answered without so much as turning back to look at her. “And what better offering to the Demon God of Wano than the Devil Child of Ohara?”
Robin clenched her teeth as Lucci tugged at her chains once more. “What exactly do you think will happen when you present me as an offering?” she asked, wincing at the hoarseness of her voice. But now was as good a time as any to question their plans. “The Shingetsu ritual requires self-sacrifice. What will you do when I refuse to kill myself?”
One of the agents trailing behind chuckled. “That’s what the texts may tell you,” came an airy, carefree voice. “But legend has it that the Demon God has an insatiable bloodlust. If he cannot obtain the blood of the offering through self-sacrifice, then he will simply take it.”
Robin rolled her eyes. “And you believe legends over verified records?”
“That’s enough out of you!”
Robin snapped her head up just in time to see a flash of lilac hair and a gloved fist hurtling towards her. Staggering from the impact, she dropped to one knee, spitting up the blood that pooled in her mouth. In her peripheral, she could see Spandam drawing back to kick her, until Kalifa stepped between them.
“Sir, we’re losing daylight. Might we continue this once we’ve reached our destination?”
Spandam muttered a few choice words under his breath and glared at Robin as she was dragged back onto her feet, but refrained from attacking her any further. “Know this, Nico Robin,” he hissed, “no matter how this ritual goes, you will die tonight.”
The rest of the trek was made in relative silence, for which Robin was grateful for. She kept her head down, pushing through her pain to keep up with Lucci. By the time they reached the edge of the forest, the last rays of sunlight were fading, engulfing the island in shades of blue. The trees gave way to a clearing, and suddenly Robin was standing face to face with Wano’s most sacred site. The temple was even more impressive than she anticipated. Built into the foothills of Mount Onigashima, it stood tall amongst the overgrown flora, extending along the side of the mountain. Thick vines barred its two-door entrance, and she briefly wondered if it had ever been plundered by thieves; even after the annihilation of Wano’s inhabitants, the country was nearly impossible to enter. Were it not for her own research, the World Government would have never gained access in the first place. A surge of excitement filled her at the thought of relics the temple surely contained, of the Poneglyphs detailing Wano’s rich history, unseen by human eyes for centuries.
The moment of awe and wonder was shattered as Spandam let out a maniacal cackle, marching straight towards the entrance. “Finally! After years of searching, we will have the Demon God on our side!” He hacked at the vines with his sword before pulling on the door, grunting when it refused to budge. “Blueno! Open this door immediately!”
The agent, a silent boulder of a man, grabbed the door handles without hesitation, putting all of his weight into prying the stone open. His brute force was not without consequence; the wrought iron literally cracked under the pressure, snapping loose from the doors. Unbothered by the destruction, Blueno shoved a hand through the space he made between the stone barriers, wrenching one door open entirely.
Robin hardly had time to dwell on the callous treatment of the temple before Lucci tugged on her chain, dragging her inside. Light filled the main hall as Kalifa and the long-nosed agent lit a few torches lining the walls. Blueno tore one down, lighting a path to a massive staircase. The stone was different here, most likely a natural occurrence in the mountainside that had been carefully crafted by the followers of the Asura. Even as pain seared through her body with every step up the stairs, she couldn’t help but be amazed by the temple’s interior. To excavate so deeply into the mountain and build sound structures so long ago was nothing short of incredible.
Preoccupied as she was by the skills of the Wano people, Robin failed to realize Lucci had stopped abruptly on the second-story landing, slamming hard into his back. “Why did you—?”
“Which way?” he asked.
Robin looked over his shoulder, frowning as she caught sight of Spandam defacing a carving in the wall, most likely of the god he so desperately wanted to summon. Shaking her head, she examined their surroundings, determining that they’d most likely reached a prayer hall that wrapped back around to the first terrace out front. Ahead of them was another door, much sturdier than the ornate entrance below. “Through there,” she said, gesturing forward.
Beyond the door was a room encased with bookshelves, old tomes lining the walls. They would need to be handled with care if Robin were to peruse them, though as Lucci guided her towards another staircase to their right, she doubted she would ever get the chance. At the next landing, the temple led back outside to a decidedly poor looking bridge, extending to a separate part of the temple. The ropes tethering it in place were frayed, and several places in the wooden structure were weak or missing altogether. Taking a deep breath, Robin continued on, praying her ankle didn’t give out on her just yet.
“Wouldn’t this be a lovely place for you to fall to your death, Nico Robin?” Spandam taunted when they were halfway across, and Robin made another silent prayer that the bastard might have an accidental fall himself.
Several staircases later, Robin felt as though her leg was on fire. All of her time spent climbing stairs and venturing into strange places during archaeological digs meant nothing when her body was so badly injured, ready to give out if she pushed much further. It must have been a blessing from one of the more benevolent gods when they finally encountered two komainu. The statues stood guard at the end of the corridor, one on each side of a large door. Without any handles to open it, she suspected it might require something from the sacrifice.
“Is this it?” Spandam snapped as he snatched Robin’s chains out of Lucci’s hand, jerking her forward so abruptly that she fell hard on her knees.
Robin hissed as she hit the stone floor. It was hardly the worst pain she’d endured, but with everything else she’d been subjected to lately, it was enough to give her pause. “Yes,” she answered, breathing deeply. “Why else would there be two komainu—?”
Robin’s vision blurred as Spandam landed a blow to the back of her head. Grabbing a handful of hair, he yanked her head up to look at the door. “I didn’t ask for back talk! What does it say?”
She winced, struggling to focus her gaze on the Poneglyphs before her. With shaky hands, she carefully cleared away the dust that had accumulated and read the inscription in silence. The blood of the sacrifice. Simple enough, she thought, though she knew these bastards wouldn’t allow her to offer her blood as it was meant to be given.
Spandam’s fist collided suddenly with her cheek, knocking her face first onto the floor. “Tell me what it says!” His boot connected with her head before she could answer, followed by another swift kick to her ribs.
Robin couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. All the air left her lungs, and it was all she could do to get one sharp breath in before a coughing fit came over her.
“With all due respect, sir,” said Lucci in a bored tone, “she won’t be able to tell us anything if she’s unconscious.”
Spandam huffed in annoyance before dragging Robin back to the door. “Read it,” he spat. “Out loud.”
Robin wheezed with every shallow breath she took, unable to even look at the writing. The room was spinning, and all she could taste was the metallic tang of her own blood. “Blood… of the… sacrifice…” she said, praying it was audible enough to appease her captors. “It won’t… open… without it…”
Fingers tangled in her hair again, wrenching her head back as Spandam pressed a knife to her throat. “If that’s all we need,” he said, eyes gleaming with deranged glee, “then why don’t we just slit your pretty little throat and spill your blood all over the walls!”
Robin’s eyes widened in terror as the blade pressed deeper into her skin. “Alive!” she shrieked, stopping him in his tracks. “It has to be a live sacrifice!”
“Just do as she says,” Kalifa interjected. “Haven’t we wasted enough time already? Cut her palm and send her in, we can’t afford to mess this up.”
Spandam snarled, a retort on the tip of his tongue until Lucci spoke up once more. “If you ruin this sacrifice, you will be the next offering.”
That was all it took to convince the coward. Snatching Robin’s wrists up, he slashed her right palm and all but threw her against the door. Robin hissed at the contact, shuddering as she watched her blood soak into the glyphs etched into the door. The entrance creaked, echoing down the corridor behind them, and opened to reveal a pitch black room. There was no time to process any of it; Spandam yanked her to her feet without hesitation and shoved her into the dark abyss. She cried out as she landed painfully on her broken wrist, unable to push herself upright before the door began to close.
“You’ve done us a great service, Nico Robin!” he called out with a laugh. “It seems the archaeologists of Ohara weren’t entirely worthless after all!”
The door shut with a loud clank, swallowing her in total darkness. She blinked frantically in an attempt to adjust her vision, suddenly all too aware of the potential threats lurking behind these walls. When sight continued to fail her, she strained to listen for signs of danger, but the only sound that could be heard was her own labored breathing. A strange draft swept through, and light began filtering through the room, courtesy of torches igniting spontaneously along the walls. Robin stared in awe at her surroundings, intrigued by the weathered glyphs and murals on the walls. She couldn’t help a feeling of trepidation, however; torches didn’t simply light themselves.
“Hello?” she called out softly, feeling ridiculous when she was met with silence. Careful not to put too much pressure on her right ankle, she rose to her feet and made her way to a large altar at the far end of the room.
A sacrificial altar, she thought solemnly.
Sighing, she knelt down in front of the structure, examining the Poneglyphs along the front. The carvings were well-preserved, even more so than the rest she’d seen so far. What she wouldn’t give to have her journals with her now to document the translations. Even if she were to die here, there would be hope that someone might come across her notes, maybe even continue her work.
“Why are you here?”
Robin yelped, turning too quickly on her heel to face the voice. She fell hard on her ass, whimpering as her back collided with the altar. A dark figure stood before her, engulfed in purple flames. Her eyes widened in disbelief; there was only one person that could have entered the chamber with her, and the implication sent a chill down her spine.
The Asura… Roronoa Zoro.
“I asked you a question, woman,” he growled.
Robin swallowed hard, blinking back tears. She watched as he rested his hand on the hilt of one of his swords, a subtle movement, but one that made her blood run cold. “I… I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, unable to form a coherent explanation for her presence. Suddenly, she felt like an intruder, a weak animal that had foolishly wandered into predator territory.
And she was. The Demon God stalked towards her, the flames around him subsiding until she could finally make out his face. A scar stretched over the space where his left eye should have been, violet still flickering from an empty socket. His remaining eye was just as unnerving; a golden iris that never wavered as he studied her.
“Is this what mortals consider an offering these days?” he asked, the disdain evident in his voice.
Robin flinched but couldn’t look away as he drew nearer. A hulking mass of muscles, Zoro was every bit as intimidating as the legends made him out to be. He was clad in jade green silk, only a shade darker than his hair. The fabric was adorned with gold embellishments, and a cloak was draped over one shoulder to expose the opposite half of his broad chest. A gruesome scar started at his bare shoulder, spanning across his torso and disappearing beneath a deep red sash. Three swords hung at his side, each giving off their own dangerous aura. And that deep scowl on his face…
He soon closed the space between them, grasping her jaw before she could even react. Tilting her head back to get a better look at her under the torch light, he asked, “Did your companions do this?”
Robin could do nothing but stare fearfully at him, her throat closing up the moment she thought about speaking. Was this how she met her end? A brutal death at the hands of an ancient deity, all because of some misguided quest for knowledge? She thought of her mother, of Professor Clover and the other archaeologists, all who had relied on her, entrusted her with their legacy. Thought of how disappointed they would be that she should only make it to twenty-four, with little to show for her efforts.
“Please… please don’t kill me…”
Zoro’s brow furrowed, brushing his thumb over her split lip. Robin winced, anticipating pain to follow the action, but it never did. “Answer me,” he said, the impatience evident in his voice. “Did they harm you?”
Another heartbeat passed before Robin managed a meek, “yes.”
With that, he vanished in a plume of black smoke, leaving Robin trembling on the altar steps. Silence fell over the chamber once more, only to be broken seconds later by a scream, shrill enough to pierce through the thick stone walls. Panicked, Robin struggled to her feet and hobbled to the door, straining to hear what was going on. Was this custom for improper rituals? To brutally punish all involved? Another bloodcurdling scream echoed through the corridor, followed by one agent’s cry for help. She could make out the clash of weapons, the sickening sound of steel piercing flesh, then a single gunshot that sounded more like cannon fire in the hollow space.
“Stop him!”
Robin startled at the solid thud against the door, followed by what she could only assume was someone gurgling on their own blood.
“No! I summoned you! You answer to me—“
Spandam’s voice cut off abruptly, and Robin felt a wave of nausea at the implication. The doors flew open, narrowly missing her as she jumped back and stumbled, tripping over her injured foot. A scream tore itself from her chest as she fell backwards, every injury she’d sustained making itself known all at once. The shadow looming over her was something out of a horror story, and that was all the motivation she needed to draw herself up on her elbows and get the hell away. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw Zoro’s broad frame at the entrance, covered in blood. In one hand, he wielded a single blade, painted red from the attack. In the other…
Robin retched at the sight. Spandam’s eyes stared back at her, unseeing in their permanent terror as blood dripped from his severed head. Zoro tossed it aside without a second thought before advancing towards her. Stricken with terror, Robin clawed at the stone floor with her good hand, desperate to put more distance between her and the violent god. It was all in vain, she knew; even in the dimly lit chamber, she could see there was no exit, not even a damaged place in the walls that might lead outside the temple. Her only hope was to reason with the man who had just slaughtered an entire—
Another shriek echoed through the chamber when a hand gripped Robin’s injured leg, unyielding as it easily dragged her backwards. She turned herself onto her back, rearing her other leg to kick at the Asura, only for him to catch her by the ankle with his other hand. It soon dawned on her that he was positioned between her legs, glaring menacingly as he crouched over her and pulled her closer. She screamed again, nearly delirious with fear at the thought that he might have more than murder on his mind.
“Let me go!” she cried, swinging her bound fists at his arms. “Please! I—“
Lord Zoro snarled, a terrible sound that halted Robin’s assault in its tracks. Purple flames erupted from his sides, taking the form of another set of arms. As he continued to drag her towards him, the limbs grasped Robin by her arms, drawing her upright until her face was mere inches from his own. “Don’t. Run. From. Me.”
Sobs wracked her entire body as she watched the blood on his face soak into his flesh, erasing all evidence of the massacre he’d just committed. Her only thought was that the CP9 agent had been right: The Demon God had a bloodlust that needed to be sated, and her blood was next. Robin squeezed her eyes shut, silently begging to wake up from this nightmare, when the grip around her sprained ankle loosened. Rough fingers caressed her skin before releasing her leg altogether. Peering at her ankle with watery eyes, her brows furrowed as she tried to understand what he’d done, and why her leg no longer ached.
“What are you—“ Robin gasped as Zoro moved on to her wrist, vanishing her cuffs and carefully wrapping his hand around her arm in the same way.
“You make for a very poor offering,” he grumbled, giving her wrist a once over before tending to the cut on her palm. “Where else are you injured?”
Robin gaped at him. Was he really sparing her life? Or was he healing her so that he could finish the sacrifice? But there were still so many rituals that hadn’t been performed before the new moon—
She startled as his hands began to wander beneath her shirt. “M-my ribs,” she stammered before he could travel too far.
He nodded and worked his magic, either unaware of or ignoring her discomfort. Robin felt the pressure in her back and chest ease, the ache in her sides evaporate, and suddenly she could breathe again without the feeling of knives shredding her insides. One hand found its way to the back of her neck, relieving the throbbing in her head and clearing the fog over her mind.
Settling her gaze on Zoro’s face, Robin felt a rush of heat wash over her. There were no words to describe how handsome he was. Sunkissed skin that seemed to glow under the flickering flames, a domineering aura that made her feel helpless beneath him, a prominent brow and strong jaw that enhanced just how godly he looked. His good eye bore through her, as if staring into her soul, and she found she couldn’t look away from him now.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly, still unsure what he planned to do with her.
“You’re free to leave,” he said, his conjured limbs vanishing as he rose to his full height and made his way to the altar.
Robin blinked in confusion, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately. Her attention fell to the slain members of CP9, no longer blocked from view by Zoro’s body, and considered what would happen if she left now. By morning, the Five Elders would be made aware of the missing agents, accusing her of their murder, and the manhunt for her would start all over again. Civilians would turn her in without hesitation for the bounty on her head, and she certainly didn’t have a home to return to; the World Government made sure of that, wiping out Ohara just as swiftly as they once had with Wano. As crazy as it sounded, the temple was very likely the safest place for her to be.
And you’ll have all the time you like to study its secrets.
She knew it was foolish. The Asura could take offense to her unwillingness to leave, to reject the kindness he rarely offered. But she would never get an opportunity like this again, and it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? “Could I study the temple’s Poneglyphs?”
Zoro halted and cocked his head to the side, not fully turning back to face her. “Why?”
Robin exhaled a shaky breath before diving into her reasoning. “I’ve been searching for this temple for nearly a year now. I was hoping to document as many of the glyphs as possible for further research. And, with all due respect, I hope to never step foot in this room again.”
Zoro turned to look at her then, clearly contemplating her request. “Would this research keep others from desecrating my temple?”
Wasn’t that a pleasant concept? she thought bitterly. “That is my goal, at least. I can’t account for the willful ignorance of others, but…”
“Fine.”
Robin looked up at him in surprise before flashing a giddy smile. “Thank you.” She rose carefully to her feet, still wary of any possible injuries, but it seemed that Zoro had healed her quite thoroughly. “Oh,” she said, turning to the door, “my journals are still—“
Zoro appeared before her in that same black smoke, knapsack in hand. “Here.”
Accepting the bag, Robin rifled through it and pulled out her latest journal, already halfway full with notes and diagrams about Wano’s history. Settling onto the altar steps, she began sketching the chamber on an empty page, scribbling notes about the various structures throughout. She could feel Zoro’s gaze on her, watching her from afar, as well as the heat rising in her face again at the undivided attention. Moving onto the altar, she copied each Poneglyph and their respective translations, then took to drawing the elaborate murals on the wall.
“Do these murals represent any particular myths or historical events?” she asked without thinking, biting her lip when she realized she was trying to engage in conversation with the Demon God of all people.
Zoro didn’t seem to mind, shifting his attention to the art on his right. “They are depictions of Shimotsuki Ryuma.”
Robin perked up at the familiar name. “The Sword God?” She glanced beyond Zoro to see a story she recognized quite well: Ryuma slaying the deadly dragon Cyrano. “He sacrificed his own life for the safety of Wano, yes?”
Zoro nodded. “There was an invasion just north of Kuri. The people looked to him for protection, but he was only one man against thousands of soldiers.” His gaze fell on the wall before him, directly behind the altar. “So he sought my help.”
Robin followed his gaze, preparing another page for sketching. Though it was difficult to see under the torches, she could just make out a man kneeling before a figure in green. “In exchange for his life, you wiped out the invading army.” She looked back to Zoro, noticing the unmistakable look of regret on his face. “And there was no other way to—?”
“No.” Zoro’s jaw clenched as he took a few steps forward, scanning the mural with his golden eye. “Contrary to what some might think, we gods are not omnipotent. I draw—“ He stopped abruptly, scowling. “I drew my strength from my people. Ryuma was my most faithful, and the strongest swordsman this world has ever known. It was an honor to accept his offering.”
“So the Shingetsu ritual became commonplace after his death. And these murals are in memory of his sacrifice.” Robin smiled sadly at the sentiment, wishing she could think of something more thoughtful to say. It was clear that Zoro didn’t take these rituals lightly and held great respect for the followers who placed their faith in him. Her mind wandered to the attack that wiped out Wano, curious as to what prevented Zoro from protecting the country as he did for Ryuma. Had the inhabitants lost faith? Were they unable to make the sacrifice?
Looking up at Zoro, Robin knew better than to ask those questions. Instead, she changed the subject, focusing on an observation she’d made earlier. “I notice there aren’t any skeletal remains. What happens to the bodies of your offerings after their sacrifice?”
Zoro looked almost offended. “I take them to the realm of the gods. It would be a disgrace to let my followers rot inside the temple.”
Robin nodded, jotting down some more notes. “And what happens to them, then? Are there any sort of burial rites in this realm? Another ritual cleansing, maybe?”
The look of irritation slowly vanished from his face as Zoro relaxed. “Yes. The bodies are cleansed the same as they are before the sacrifice. Then they are preserved in tombs and their souls are granted access to the Pure Land.”
“I see.” Her attention fell once more to the lifeless bodies lying in the corridor. “And their bodies?”
Zoro laughed, a deep, melodic sound that made Robin squeeze her thighs together. “Scraps for the surviving wildlife. It’s the least they deserve.” He fixed his eye on her again, brows knit together. “What trouble did they have with you?”
Robin gripped the edges of her journal. “The government has wanted me dead since I was eight. Sacrificing me in order to summon a god was just killing two birds with one stone, I suppose. And, of course, they needed my help to find you in the first place.”
“Because you’re the last scholar of Ohara?”
Robin’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know about Ohara?”
“The people of Wano were the only mortals capable of reading the Poneglyphs. It was a dead language until a few archaeologists from Ohara uncovered it and passed it on to their students.” He glanced down at her notes, his mouth turning up in a wry smile. “It’s good to see that this knowledge isn’t completely lost.” He met her gaze before adding, “The tragedy of Ohara was unforgivable. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Tears pricked her eyes at his words. When was the last time she’d ever heard anyone speak kindly of her homeland? “And I’m sorry for yours,” she said softly. Closing her journal, she held it close to her chest and stared at the floor. Exhaustion was slowly creeping up on her, her stamina drained even after her injuries had been healed. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she whispered, “I don’t know what to do now.” Sure, there was plenty more to explore within the temple, but she couldn’t possibly do so without recovering her strength. And she was so tired of running. “They won’t stop until I’m dead.”
She startled at the sound of footsteps, raising her head to find Zoro now directly in front of her. He knelt down, commanding her full attention with his presence. “Swear fidelity to me. And I will devote myself to protecting you.”