Beginning-5

Zoro sat cross-legged on the cold, stone floor of the shrine, his back erect, his gaze unwavering. The shrine, perched on a sloping hillside, overlooked the serpentine river that flowed with a mystical rhythm. The tranquil chorus of chirping birds filled the air, their melody harmonizing with the gentle rustle of the wind through the leaves.

On the low wooden table before him, a lengthy parchment lay unrolled, its blank surface glistening in the soft light. The Japanese brush in his hand, heavy with black ink, hovered over the paper, poised to etch the words that danced in his mind.

In the midst of the beautiful serenity, Zoro found himself writing, his brush moving fluidly over the parchment. He was not just describing the scene but also expressing his innermost yearnings - a poem of peace, a departure from violence, and a unity with nature. It read:

"The river flows, a silken thread, 

In its course, no fury, no dread. 

Its peaceful hum, a lullaby, 

Under the watch of the azure sky.

The chirping birds, they sing a song, 

No clash of swords, no rights, no wrongs. 

In their notes, a simple truth I find, 

A melody of peace, leaving violence behind.

To be one with nature, my heart's decree, 

In the river's flow, in the bird's spree. 

In this shrine of serenity, I make my stand, 

To live not by the sword, but by the peace of this land."

Just as the final stroke of his brush marked the parchment, a soft rustling sound drew his attention. Two figures emerged from the dense foliage behind the shrine. The first, a girl with a mane of white hair, Yamato. Beside her, a little girl of perhaps five winters, Hana, her green silky hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes wide and innocent.

Yamato pointed toward Zoro, he fingers steadily landing on his back. Hana followed her gesture, her gaze falling on Zoro. There was a moment of stillness as the child studied the man on the shrine floor. Then, slowly, she nodded, a gesture of understanding, perhaps acceptance. Yamato returned the nod, a silent agreement passing between them.

Hana's steps faltered, the weight of anticipation hanging heavy in the air as she shyly walked along the path. The rustling of autumn leaves beneath her feet echoed the nervous fluttering of her heart. She stopped, feeling a surge of both fear and longing course through her. 

With the wind gently tugging at her hair, Hana mustered up the courage to call out in a voice barely more than a whisper, "Papa." 

Zoro, engrossed in his writing, felt a chill race through his body as Hana's voice reached his ears. Time stood still as his pen dropped from his hand, clattering onto the desk before him. Slowly, he turned to face the source of the sweet, unfamiliar voice that called out to him. 

Their eyes met, and Zoro's breath caught in his throat. Hana, with her delicate features and bright eyes, looked so much like the woman he had loved and lost – Hiyori. The world seemed to fade away as he gazed at her, disbelief warring with a flicker of hope within him. 

Tears, shimmering with a mixture of joy and uncertainty, welled up in Hana's eyes as she took cautious steps towards him. The distance between them seemed to stretch infinitely, as though time and space conspired to test the strength of their connection. 

"Are you my papa?" she asked, her voice quivering with vulnerability. 

Zoro's heart swelled, his voice tender yet filled with emotion as he replied, "How have you been Hana?" 

Overwhelmed with a mix of emotions, Hana closed the remaining gap between them and threw her arms around Zoro's waist, instinctively seeking shelter and reassurance. Zoro, wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her close and tightening his hold.

As Hana nestled herself on Zoro's lap, her exhaustion lured her into a peaceful slumber. Finding a comfortable spot beside Zoro, Yamato reached into her robe, retrieving a small and weathered piece of paper - a vivre card. 

 Yamato's voice, hard and heavy with years of struggle, rang out like a sad song. "Zoro, I have something to tell you," she began, "This vivre card is Hiyori's."

Zoro lifted an eyebrow, his voice slicing through the quiet tension. "Is that it?" His eyes narrowed.

Yamato met Zoro's look straight on, her eyes lit with a fire that echoed the determined flames within her. "I was surprised to see you too," she admitted, her voice solid in the uneasy air. "But I prioritize her safety over the urge to finish you," she motioned towards the sleeping Hana.

"You're the only man in the world capable of protecting her," Yamato muttered, her voice a mix of respect and caution. "But you are the reason she is in danger to begin with,"

Silence took hold as Zoro considered Yamato's words, "Why give me this vivre card?"

A touch of sadness crossed Yamato's face, a brief look revealing a hidden deeper pain. "For you to understand, Zoro. For you to understand your heavy burden, a constant reminder of what's at risk," Yamato replied, her voice filled with regret and yearning.

Then, without hesitation, Yamato took out another vivre card, her hand gripping it tightly. "I have your vivre card," Yamato stated, her words heavy with a deadly determination. "So take good care of her, Zoro. If anything happens to her, know that I won't hesitate to come for you."

Zoro's gaze softened, his voice authentic yet solid. "Understood," he said.

***

The night was cool and quiet. Hana, a sprite of a child, was at play with the other monastery kids, their laughter echoing in the stillness. Zoro stood by, a silent sentinel, watching her antics with a hint of a smile.

Women, like a flock of birds, descended upon the scene, their voices calling out names that rang through the night air. The children responded, leaving their games mid-play and scurrying to their mothers.

One by one, the children left, until only Hana remained. She stood still, her eyes following each child as they left with their mothers. Her lips parted, a whisper escaping them, "Mother..."

A tear rolled down her cheek, the droplet catching the moonlight as it fell. Zoro, seeing this, walked up to her. His voice broke the silence, "Hana, let's go home."

Hana turned to him, her innocent eyes filled with tears. "Pap," she said as she threw herself into his arms, her small body shaking with sobs. He held her, his hand gently stroking her back.

"I miss Mama," she said, her voice muffled in his coat. Zoro didn't say a word, just continued to stroke her hair.

"When will I meet Mama?" Hana asked, her voice trembling.

"Soon... very soon," Zoro replied, his voice heavy with a sadness he didn't let show.

***

Zoro, held the small hand of his daughter, Hana. Her tiny fingers clung to his, her trust absolute.

"Listen, Hana," he said, his voice low and serious. "This is a place where you can grow and learn."

Hana's eyes, wide with curiosity, "Will they teach me to be brave like you, Papa?" she asked, her voice tiny in the vastness of their surroundings.

Zoro smiled, a rare sight that softened his stern features. "Who told you I am brave?" Hana smiled and replied, "Mama!". Zoro curiously looked at her.

As they entered the monastery, a serene silence enveloped them. The chief monk, an old man with a kind face, was waiting. He looked at Hana with a sense of familiarity. "So, your daughter?" he said, his voice echoing in the grand hall.

Zoro nodded, "Yes, she is my daughter, Hana."

The monk's eyes held a warmth as he looked at Zoro. "She resembles you," he observed, "but cuter."

"I've come to ask you to accept her into your monastery," Zoro said, his voice firm. "I want her to know peace."

"You talk as if you know peace," The monk looked at Hana, her eyes reflecting the same determination he saw in Zoro. He nodded, "Anyways, She will be welcomed here, Zoro. This will be her home."

As they left the chief monk, Zoro looked at Hana. Her eyes met his, a mirror of his own. "This is your new home, Hana," 

Hana nodded, her small hand squeezing his. "I understand, Papa," she said, her voice filled with a maturity that belied her age.