On the Tides of Time - A Roranoa Zoro Story.

Chapter 1: One Last Hope

The silence hurt the most. The pain coursing through my numb legs was bordering on bearable, the knowledge that my father would probably never return home soon enough, the non-existent memories of my late mother – they all hurt far less than the empty space beside me. Everything hurt less than the silence. It wasn't all silent, though. I could hear the faint signs of life that bustled outside of the room's door: the maids and servants going about their daily business as time ticked on. Time that was counting down every second of the life I had left. Everyone was waiting, myself included, for the day that I no longer could draw breath into my lungs. The illness that would one day stop everything hung over my head like a dark cloud, and everyone who was left in the house could see it. They could see the stormy dark mass that followed me around wherever I went: it reflected in their eyes whenever they saw me stumble out of bed and drag my body down the hall. It reflected in their carefully chosen words and tones as they spoke to me, ushering me to go back to bed and lay down for the day. Then it reflected in their actions as they firmly placed their hands on my skin and forced me back into my room: under the covers and out of sight. I suppose it would be easier if I had been a good girl and simply waited in my bed. Waited for the day where I was gasping and wheezing, but couldn't make a sound. Waiting for the time when my body would no longer listen to my commands, just as my legs disobey me.

To be honest, it was the waiting that was killing me, not the illness itself.

When my brother left, the waiting became that much more unbearable. He walked out of the house when the illness took my legs from me, without even saying goodbye, or taking me with him. He had left a note, saying that he was going out to search for a 'cure'. But I knew better. He would absolutely look for one, but it doesn't exist. It's an incurable illness that none have survived. It even took the life of my mother – which I believe to be the reason why my father never returns home. I think they both left because they realized that they were waiting long before I ever did.

"Miss Kailina, may I come in?"

A voice sounded at the door, but I didn't answer it. It wouldn't matter if I did or not anyway: they would enter no matter what response they got.

"I'll take that as a yes, Miss Kailina."

Throwing the covers over my head, I sunk into the pillows as much as I could, inching my body further down the bed as I did so – as far as my slightly responding legs would allow.

"Miss Kailina, I doubt your brother would be pleased to find you like this each day."

The senior butler, Grist, spoke gently as he entered the room, commenting on the sight before him as I heard the familiar wheels of the food tray being pushed along the tiles. His words rung true, however, I found myself unwilling to move from my position or even acknowledge his presence.

"How are you feeling today, Miss?"

There was no reply uttered from my mouth as I heard the metal clangs as he prepared lunch. If I was being honest, it was a better day than most. Even though the numbness still encased my legs, there was a little bit of strength in them today: enough to make a difference.

"Perhaps you are up to a stroll on the beaches later in the afternoon? It might lift your spirits."

More of his words met with silence as I clenched the soft fabric between my hands, sinking even further into my cocoon as I waited for Grist to leave the room. He did so shortly after, with a long sigh that was barely audible and tinged with something akin to regret. The soft 'click' of the door sounded his retreat went unnoticed for some time as I remained hidden from the world.

If only Kairius was here… We could walk in the sand, and he would tell me stories he had heard about our father, or anything at all he could remember about him. Mom too. Then everything would be better. He never stared at my legs: the mess of gauze and bindings that sometimes stained with blood and other sticky and unsettling liquids. Not like those that were left here did. They didn't understand the limits of the sickness. Not like my brother and I did.

The scent of the chef's cooking brought me from the warm depths I had plunged myself into, and I slowly brought the covers down from over my head, pulling myself upright as I reached for the plate that was set for me. My legs strained with the effort of stretching my upper body and soon I felt the skin burn against the sheets they molded to perfectly only seconds before. The food was now lukewarm, most of the heat had been lost during my time spent under the covers.

I told myself that that was the reason I had stayed under there all this time.
I'm not entirely sure if I believed it or not.

Soon enough, the plate was scraped clean of food, and the glass had been emptied. But before I could fall back into bed and remain unmoving for the remainder of the day, I pulled my legs over the side of the bed and pushed myself off, grabbing the crutches that were propped up against the wall before any weight was placed on my legs and properly positioned them under my arms. Slowly, and unsteadily, I made my way to the corner of the room, where two mirrors were positioned. Thankfully, they weren't angled in such a way that I could see myself from my position in bed, but they were, however, angles so that the small mirror placed higher on one wall only showed my upper body, while a longer mirror placed on the adjacent wall only showed my lower body.

The girl in the smaller mirror was young, and she had creamy and fair skin with white-blue eyes that seemed to stare right through herself. Soft white-blond locks of hair flowed down in long, sweeping curves down to her waist. However, she looked to be quite frail. Something about the hollowness in her features: the hollowness in her eyes as they glinted in the dim light that was found in the corner of the room. Something was unsettling to me as I looked in the reflective surface.

Fancy, yet rather uncomfortable clothes itched at my skin as I continued staring at myself – the sweat my body had produced was making the clothing unbearable when I was out of the warmth and comfort of my bed. Even my knees were starting to feel the pressure of the weight my body held. However, I ignored this and looked in the second mirror, only seeing the swaying cloth that covered my legs. With a sigh pushing itself from my lips, I gently pulled the fabric up my legs, just above my knees as I peered into the mirror with apprehension.

The bandages that had been wrapped around my legs just this morning had already started to turn red, and I could see the muscles shaking slightly with the strain of holding myself upright. With another sigh, the fabric fell to the floor, covering the sight of the bandages as I slowly straightened out the wrinkles in the skirt. It was a weird feeling – or perhaps a weird non-existent one: to not feel your own legs, yet to be standing on them. To not even realize their frailty, but to see it clearly reflected…

But it was also a weird feeling to see them covered up by fabric.

Before Kairius had left, or perhaps I should say, before the illness took the feeling in my legs, I never wore any kind of fancy garments. What was the point? They would only be ruined by sweat and blood and pus: three things that my legs produce the most of these days. My brother realized this. He always made sure what I wore was easy to get around and comfortable. Whether it be a baggy t-shirt that was much too big for me, or shorts and a sweater. Whatever worked, worked. But since my brother left, the servants keep pushing and pushing to do things differently. To sacrifice my comfort for appearances – I am the daughter of an important man, after all. Not that I blame them. I haven't been acting very lady-like at all these past few years. Ever since I was diagnosed with the illness and father stopped coming back home. Who knows where that man is now?

I'm not sure I want to know, in all honesty.

With another glance in the upper mirror, I straightened the frills and buttoned the buttons that had come undone in my tossing and turning before looking to the doors that lead to the balcony, a mouth curled into what looked to be a mixture of a smile and a frown caught my eye as I did so. Before I could see any more of myself in the mirror, I continued on, heading towards the doors as confidently as I could. It took several tries to place the crutches in a stable enough position to open both doors, which I had to resort to opening them separately to have any success, however, the warm breeze that caressed my skin was well worth the effort. The scent of the sea wove its way into my core as carefree as the waves themselves were, the white crests that dotted the water leisurely appeared and disappeared to their own rhythms. Although, that was to be expected on a day like this: with gentle winds, warm weather, and sunny skies, nature seemed to agree that today would be a good day.

"A stroll on the beach might lift my spirits, eh?"

A quiet mutter left my lips as I gazed out to the calming scenery, scanning the horizon for any kind of ship that could have set its course for the island. It was a ritual I had adopted when I mustered up the strength on the good days that came sparingly. At first, it had been to spot my father's ship, hoping that one day he'd arrive home. It quickly turned into watching for any letters that he had sent, either by sea or by sky. After those stopped coming, it had been simply looking out to see just how much of the world was out there – what could lie beneath the waters, what could sail above them… Just what was out there?

What kind of adventures were out there, waiting just as I was, to be explored?

At that time, the only difference was that I was waiting to get better. That was nearly five years ago, a year after I had been diagnosed. Even now, I still hold the same sentiment with the ocean: How many mysteries are out there, waiting to be seen? Now, the word 'waiting' had much more weight to it. It was a time limit. How long would it wait for me? How long could I wait to see it? For me, time was now a valuable commodity.

I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to forget about time, and live life as it was intended: day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute… Maybe even second to second?

Movement caught my eye, and a small boat with a white sail drifted towards the island before being hidden from my view by rocks that littered the shore in uneven patterns. A moment passes, and I wonder if I had just seen an illusion. But, it passes, and I quickly waddle to the edge of the balcony, throwing the crutches into the hedge below as I sit myself on the stone railing before throwing my feet over to the other side and dangling them in the air. With two deep breaths I push myself off the ledge, falling shortly before landing on my back in the hedges, which cushioned my fall slightly.

With cuts and scrapes making themselves known across the skin of my back and arms, and leaves and twigs burrowing into my hair and making all kinds of intricate knots, I quickly reach for my crutches and scramble off of the hedge, leaving strands of hair behind as I hobble as fast as I could towards the sand that stood between me and the boat.

"That poor girl, she hardly ever leaves the room now that Master Kairius is gone…"

The female voice stopped me in my tracks, and I quickly hid behind one of the many marble statues that dotted the island estate, adding to the well-manicured garden that spread out from the mansion that was at the heart of the small island.

"Those two got along so well! It's a shame that he left. How long has it been? A few months?"

"I think that it's been two months since the young Master left. It's been three since Miss Kailina has been bedridden."

My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I heard the voices of the maids getting ever closer, speaking casually to each other as they enjoyed the warm weather and fresh air.

"It really is too bad that their father hasn't been to see them since Miss Kailina had fallen ill. You weren't there when they first found out about the sickness, were you?" Warm wind was met with silence before the maid continued, "The look on that poor man's face – he was heartbroken. Master Kairius didn't understand yet what the illness meant, but the look on his face was clear as day. He knew exactly what the illness was. I've heard rumors from the others that have been here longer than me, that the late Mistress had the same exact disease. It must have been hard to watch another family member come down with it…"

My hands clenched the wood of the crutches tightly as I listened to them speak. At least they weren't coming any closer to the sand that covered the island behind the mansion, which was where the statue I was hiding behind was located.

"And with the young Miss looking like the spitting image of her mother, too. If you compared the picture of the late Mistress in the study with Miss Kailina now, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference if not for the young Miss having her father's eyes! I suppose that's why the Master doesn't visit anymore, he can't look at his daughter without being reminded of his wife-"

"I'd think that that is enough gossip for one day, ladies. If you would happen to take in your surroundings, you would see that Miss Kailina has decided to open the doors to her balcony to partake in the warm weather we're enjoying. If she were to hear what the two of you were saying, why, her heart would be breaking in no time! The Master is not so foolish enough to confuse the sickness of his beloved wife to that of his beloved daughter. He will return home as soon as he can to nurse Miss Kailina back to health himself when his work allows him to do so. Now, please return to the tasks at hand. There is much to be done."

A small smile appeared on my face as I listened to Grist scolding the two maids before ushering them inside, the ladies whispering apologies as they entered the mansion once more. However, there was little truth to what he said. If father had wanted to return home, he would've by now. And even if he couldn't, he would send letters to keep in touch as he did once so long ago. Right now, I'm probably the least of his worries at the moment. But that was okay. Kairius told me as much as I needed to know about him as he moved on without me, and I'm still proud to call him my father. That's good enough for now.

"Ah… Sir. Where in the world are you? Do come back soon, Miss Kailina would do much better with family around her…"

A mutter that would be scattered by the wind before it could find its way into my room on the second floor slowly drifted enough to be heard by me as I peeked around the statue to see Grist retreat back into the mansion. With silent thanks offered to Grist for his concern, I turned my back on the mansion and started slowly making my way across the loose terrain on my crutches, my feet making two continues lines in the golden sand as they dragged behind, unable to keep up with my pace as I was unable to ensure their position in the sand.

Everything was different when walking on sand. The elevation was different for my two feet at all times, the way the sand shifted away and came rushing back as I set my foot down… It soon became too much of a hassle to try and deal with when the feeling in my legs disappeared, that I simply let them be dragged along as I trusted my crutches to be my legs. Of course, this normally had disastrous effects, but with much pleading done on my end, I was able to convince Kairius to modify the design of the crutches to allow it to traverse over sand much more easily with more stability.

It worked, for the most part.

Thanks for reading the first chapter, Fireflies! I hope you enjoyed it! Please comment and message if you did 3

- Love, Ember ;3