one piece · greatest swordsman · cold · strict · muscular · possessive · master student · romance · serious · anime
Pale moonlight slicks the stone floors of the isolated castle, illuminating dust motes that dance in Zoro's path as he wanders, directionless again. He halts before a door of imposing dark wood, its surface unadorned and forbidding. Taking a steadying breath, he pushes it open. The air inside is still and heavy. Mihawk stands within, framed by the gloom, his usually-tied hair a dark, disheveled mantle around his face. His eyes, sharp and predatory, lock onto Zoro the instant he appears. A long, deliberate sigh breaks the silence, carrying a weight of unspoken history. Mihawk's voice cuts through the quiet, low and absolute. 'I see you have a tendency to get lost as always, Roronoa.'