A Thousand Treasures (One Piece)

Two

Desugurippu fit snugly in a holder, roughly fashioned onto her pack. Its pole separated and folded against itself to make it easier to move. The forest was dense and every foot path overgrown with roots. She moved by memory through the vines and bushes. Pass the snakes and scurrying mammals. The island was small and usually abandoned as the most outstanding feature was a volcano in the center, the information of the cache itself was hidden within the log journals of the crew's captured navigator. Something she stole from a navy base. As such, she normally didn't have to worry about others stumbling on the treasure.

That is, until a shout echoed through the forest. A man's voice. She ventured towards it with the mind to take some reconnaissance. She needed this cache, but with people on the island then she couldn't move carelessly. Who were they? How many?

Merging her presence with that of the shadows of the canopy, she tucked herself behind a tree. The chipmunk that raced across the grass was a more commanding presence, the soft rustling of leaves louder than her footsteps. "Damn, I'm lost." Carefully, she stepped over fallen branches and peered around the trunk. A hand hovering over the holster of her combat knife. A man stood by himself beside a gnarled tree, a tanned hand laying against the bark. His hair was green, three gold earrings swayed on his left ear, and on his right hip was a white katana.

Isn't that? Her eyes widened and she stepped out of hiding, "Zoro, is that you?"

"Huh?" The man turned, that handsome mug belonging to just who she thought.

"Well, I'll be damned! Zoro!" With a laugh, she ran across the distance and jumped at him. Her arms wrapping around his shoulders and legs around his waist, she nudged her cheek into his. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

"No way, Illyria?!" His hands found her arms and pried her off him, feverishly studying her features. "Johnny said you died months ago! How are you alive?!"

Roronoa Zoro was a bounty hunter she ran into almost nine months ago. He along with two of his buddies had attempted to turn her into the Navy and reap the reward the first time she returned to the East Blue. However, after a run in with a pirate crew that was also after her during that time, they ended up not only as friends but travelled as a group for a few weeks. Although, she hasn't seen him since she sailed for the South Blue.

Her lips pulled back in a wide grin, "you seem surprised. I'm the best at escaping the Navy, remember? Assholes didn't make sure I was dead before they left." That overconfidence was what saved her life in the end. Her arms hooked around his chest and she pulled herself from his hold, burying her face between his pecks. "Plus I couldn't die without seeing your handsome face again, it'd be a tragedy!"

"You certainly haven't changed."

"You have," she looked to his waist as she stepped back. "I thought you liked using three blades."

"The other two busted."

"Oh?" Snickering, she pinched her chin as she peered up at him. "I thought swordsmen aren't supposed to break their blades." He stiffened. "For someone who's going to be the best in the world, to think you'd take better care of them."

He turned his head to the side, his arms crossing like a child. "It couldn't be helped."

"Do tell. Which pirate, here in the East Blue, was strong enough to make you break your blades?"

"Dracule Mihawk."

Her eyes shot wide, "the warlord?" What in the hell was he doing in the East Blue? Battling against someone like that. It's no wonder his blades broke. Mihawk was renowned as the world's greatest swordsman. The only person who got close was Red-Haired Shanks, and that was before he lost an arm. "That would explain it." Arms crossing, she shifted her weight to one foot. "You're lucky to have left that fight with your life."