As the man made his descent from the last wielders house he couldn't suppress the uncomfortable flicker adorning the façade also known as doubt crawling down through his spine with each given step as he distanced himself from the house. He knew that by turning his back on the young boy he was not only jeopardizing his future but everything that he was most likely going to build from this point forward. He let the brat live, no harm done. Mihawk was only ensuring decent entertainment in the times to come, yet as foreboding as it may seem to have someone consistently strive to take down your head, Mihawk enjoyed the exhilaration. Well, that is only if the child survives. As his mind entertained the notion and coped with the limitless options as to what kind of a warrior the young Roronoa can potentially metamorphose into, men clad in black resurfaced from every house in the central part of the village, carrying blood soaked weapons and eyes forever numb to the carnage and violence.

A cackle followed by a gleeful smile spread across Mihawk's features as he asked, "Am I correct to assume that no survivor remains?"

"No Sir, not one dog breathes". The monotone group held their stance, waiting for their master to bark out the next order.

"Excellent. For now we shall return, collect your items and meet me at the half mark by sunrise. But first, I want this village obliterated from the map. Burn it to the ground. That is all". With that last command, the group took off in different directions, each spreading the angry element across houses, bodies and trees. By the time the last member made it back to the entrance, the whole village was spewing flames into a dense and black sky that obscured the moon and its light.

"Daddy how much longer before we get there?" A girl with dark hair exhaustedly muttered.

"Not much longer dear, I say we'll be arriving shortly, or do you want to camp out and touch base at the village after breakfast?"

The young girl vigorously nodded from side to side, she would do anything in her power to not spend another night under the moon and stars. Her father adored the outdoors and actually encouraged these little escapades, something about training your body and soul and maintaining that essential balance that every warrior must possess. She could not stress enough how poorly she does in the outdoors. The insects, the bathroom situations and most importantly the lack of comfort throughout her sleeping nights that would otherwise be found in her futon back at home. Remembering her ordeal with the June beetle earlier that day granted her enough misery to bring forth the required strength to push her through the rest of the night.

"I really do hope that clan is as strong as you say dad. I did not make this hellish trip to be disappointed". Her father turned around just in time to see her pouting face and assured her with his smile and statement, "The Roronoa clan has been the strongest for as long as any being has lived on this land Kuina. They live by strength, and strength equals respect. Always remember. As father and daughter continued to walk through the forest, Kuina's imagination took a wild spin. She had no idea what the Roronoa's looked like, were they savage beasts with green hair and sharp fangs that live more like wild animals then humans? The horror stories surrounding the village always began with intense and brutal battles showered in irrationality and suspense; did these tall tales hold any truth? But then she remembered that her father had told her that the clan was gifted in wielding katanas such as the Meito status blades. She also heard how one specific katana, the Wado Ichimonji was a weapon of its own class. Her father had described it as a refined and exquisite katana, caressing a flowers petal with one swing and yet capable of cutting steel in the next.

In Kuina's opinion, anyone who wields a katana with beauty and grace was under no means considered a soulless beast. Also, for her father to have a friend amongst such a fear inducing clan, made her curiosity bubble freely to the surface.

Kuina paused as she gathered enough courage to ask the next question, "How do you know someone from the Roronoa Clan dad? The name carries enough weight to scare the nastiest of mountain bandits away. Do you not fear them?"

It was Kojiro's turn to pout, "Listen Kuina, I respect the clan therefore I do not fear it. Respect is never the equivalent to fear. Always and I repeat, always remember that. It's a long story that I shall tell you at another time, but basically the person that I know within the clan is the current deputy. The previous clan leader passed away in the last war so at the moment she has assumed the aforementioned status. Her father had chosen her brother as heir but circumstances not known to me led to his untimely demise. For now, she is taking charge until her son is capable of taking the reins himself. Kuina…. Are you listening?"

"Daddy that's amazing! Women can also be leaders!?" The girl had conveniently isolated the word 'deputy', envisioning a world in which she selectively placed women in absolute power.

"Now listen Kuina, this was a special case because of the clan leader's sudden death and the lack of immediate male heirs who are mature enough for the position". He was staring intently at his daughter, hoping that she would understand that this clan was in no way whatsoever the utopia that she hungrily desired. Koshiro understood his daughter's suffering and the unfairness of the world as to how gender roles are heavily expressed. Kuina's troubles lie in a thin line between acceptance and rebellion, her young mind so bendable and receptive to any foreign influence. And yet, it does not have to be foreign influence, it can very well be negative comments and opinions held by your friends, neighbors or colleagues. Such a thing had already happened at the dojo, a fight that had been targeted at his daughter. A group of boys would incessantly pick on her just because she was a girl. Calling her names and going as far as to tell her that no man would want to take a tomboy as a wife, and that learning how to fight was not a woman's job but only that of a man's. Kuina fought back, arguing that gender should not matter and she had as much right to be there as any of them. She also argued that they shouldn't waste her father's time, because they were all weaklings that will never amount to anything. She was strong; therefore, she should be there over all the others. Koshiro smiled as he remembered the stupefied faces of each one of the boys, they were trying to formulate a comeback but had failed apparently. So a fist fight broke out instead and the instructor was urgently pressed to separate the children from one another, including his own.

Kuinas's voice tore through his memory as she asked, "By the way, are we almost there? I see lights!" She ran to the edge of the forest, her happy gait ceasing to a sudden halt. "Dad… something's wrong…"

Koshiro broke into a loose jog, passing several evergreens and their over sprouting roots. He ran up to his daughter and followed her line of vision. His eyes pulled in the image of the village but his brain was not processing the gravity of the situation. The clan's home was angrily burning away, leaving behind noticeable traces of soot and ashes tumbling across the night sky.

Whispers. Whispering. Something was speaking, but he couldn't tell what it was saying. He tried focusing on the syllables but the angry spiral going through his head was blocking his hearing. All he wanted to do was sleep, sleep so deeply that not even his mother could wake him up. His mother…..mother? Why does the thought of his mother carry such sadness? Tasting paranoia, Zoro tried to pry himself from the clutches of sleep. Instead he concentrated on the voice and whatever it had to say. With his eyes still closed and the lingering pain becoming dominantly present, he felt life flicker from the core. The voice alarmingly rose with it, its last words booming with fierceness, "RUN!"