The Swordsman's Cat ( Zoro X Reader)

Chapter 44 : Back On

Chapter 44 : Back On

You stood atop the hill, the soft ca'ress of the sea breeze ruffled your hair, carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean and the faint scent of blooming flowers.

The horizon stretched out before you, a vast expanse of azure blue merging seamlessly with the clear skies above.

Behind you, Ace and Marco stood in respectful silence, their presence a comforting presence amidst the solemnity of the moment.

Together, you gazed upon the scene laid out before you—a pair of gravestones nestled among the rolling hills, bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

For a moment, you were transfixed, your heart heavy with emotion as you beheld the sight of your own final resting place.

It was a surreal experience, one that left you feeling strangely detached from the world around you, as though you were but a ghost lingering on the fringes of existence.

The realization of your own mortality washed over you, threatening to engulf you in its icy embrace.

It was a sobering reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death—a truth that had always loomed on the horizon, but one that you had never truly confronted until now.

'I've died twice already,' you mused inwardly, 'but never before have I thought I would be able to see my own grave.'

Whitebeard's grave was larger, befitting his status as one of the most legendary pirates to ever sail the seas.

Carved into the stone were the words "Edward Newgate, Whitebeard," a solemn tribute to the man who had commanded the respect and admiration of all who knew him.

Surrounding the grave were scattered flowers, a poignant reminder of the love and reverence his crew still held for him.

Next to Whitebeard's grave stood your own, smaller in size but no less significant.

The marker bore your name, a simple inscription that belied the complexity of your journey and the impact you had left on the world.

Unlike Whitebeard's grave, yours was adorned with fewer offerings, yet there was a quiet dignity in its simplicity—a reflection, perhaps, of the humility with which you had lived your life.

'I guess it's fitting, considering their actual Dracula Y/N had actually died," you thought to yourself.

Together, the two graves formed a solemn tableau—a reminder of the intertwined destinies that had brought you and Whitebeard together, and the legacy you had both left behind.

As you stood there, gazing upon the graves of two individuals who had shaped the course of history, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the weight of their legacy and the enduring impact of their lives.

You turned around, offering a small smile to Ace and Marco as they approached your grave, each armed with a shovel.

Silently, you observed as they began to dig, the rhythmic sound of the shovels cutting through the earth echoing in the stillness of the hilltop.

"Seems rather morbid, doesn't it?" you murmured softly, the weight of the moment settling heavily upon your heart.

There was a solemnity in the air, a tangible reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

As the dirt began to pile up beside the growing hole, memories flooded your mind—memories of laughter and friendship, of battles fought and victories won.