I do not own One Piece, but I do feel that the Strawhats are sometimes closer to me than any of my friends could ever be. Isn't that sad.

Anyway! I love the idea of Zoro and Tashigi being together, or liking each other, so here it comes. If you don't like it, read this story and you soon will. :D

I prefer writing action rather than romance though so you'll have to be patient. Enjoy.

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Tashigi's Heart: My Purpose!

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On that terrible day, the day when I thought I would die. I saw Pirates for the first time. I saw them walk into a beautiful building and start to trash the place. And then they found someone. I remembered thinking, Why can't someone stop this? Why is this happening? Why haven't these people been taken care of? Why are they hurting people? They're not allowed they should be in jail!

It was 'fore lack of this 'of justice' that someone died in front of me. And because of someone's lust of an object in a hidden box had driven them into this crazy lust. Is this what insanity looks like? They wanted that thing so badly they murdered for it. I couldn't see it, what they were holding, my glasses had been knocked off in the scuffle but it looked like some sort of weird fruit. They didn't just leave when they got what they wanted, I saw them. They thrust an innocent victim onto their blade and laughed. They cried out in victory, and smirked at their comrades in crime.

"I have it at last!" "It's mine! It's mine!"

Not a second was wasted watching one man fall to the ground, he fell and lay there in his blood, he fell right in front of me. I remember thinking 'many tears would have fallen if his family had known', but nobody knew, just me, and my tears were the only ones that knew the truth and I shred them for him. And I didn't even know his name. They left with grins on their faces, with coarse laughs they kicked down doors, smashed and tore everything aside that was in their way. Hollow cries of sorrow, yells of pain, and screams of anger could be heard from everywhere, and I could do nothing, but shake in fear and hide.

I didn't understand. Why?! What was that for?! How could they?! Where they even human?

Once they had left, I got up from my hiding place.

Is he alive? Is he still bleeding? Maybe I can save him?

I have never seen blood spilling out from somebody before. So Much Blood... This was real. This was really happening.

Where do I start? How! How! How could I help?

I step toward him and slide in his blood and hit my head on the floor. My last thought was, Why am I so clumsy?

I can't remember what happened afterwards, except someone told me when I came to that I was fortunate to be alive. Alive what did that mean? I felt hollow, and I could taste blood in my mouth, I must have fallen and bitten my tongue. Why had I survived when so many didn't. I hated myself, for my own pathetic attitude and fear.

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After I had been allowed to leave the hospital, my mother insisted that I never go back to the place of attack. However, telling a child to never do something just makes them want to do it more. So, later that night I went back to the location of the attack. I was 13 years old, and I wasn't going to be afraid.

There were barriers up everywhere, but they didn't seem to take into account that some people can climb up barriers, and some people were small enough to slip through small window. The Shock really kicked in when I actually saw what some of those men had done to the place.

I decided then and there that hate isn't such a bad thing, unlike what they teach you in school.I used to feel sorry for some Pirates who were hung, or killed by the marines, but those pirates were cruel, and nasty and I think have no right to live. Not after what I have just seen.

I shut my eyes to the darkness, and sat down in the ruined room. I could still imagine the smell of fear, of death, and hear the sounds and cries of the living before they passed on. It was just a breath away. It could have been me. I looked up, the moonlight lit up the room and revealed all the things that were no longer of any value. I had only been in the museum as a part of a school trip. I had been reading the inscriptions on all this priceless items. They had only taken a few, the rest the had thought would be funny to destroy. I picked up an old painting that had been ripped off the wall. It had a tear right through the middle. I got out my sketchbook and drew what I could see. After centurys of looking after this place, it had been damaged beyond repair. I looked up into the moonlight again.

What else hides in the darkness waiting to strike. I hate them. They had no right. I hate them.

"I hate you all!"

It was time to leave. I couldn't believe how quickly a place could change.

Once I got home I found I just couldn't sleep, my mind was whirling with questions.

I can hate them all, but it still doesn't change the way that I acted in that situation, I wasn't brave enough to try to help. I remember shaking with rage and grief, with tears streaming down my dirty face. I wasn't strong, I wasn't brave, I wasn't good enough to help. I made up excuses, like I'm only one girl, and maybe someone else might come along. But now that I look back on everything that happened that day I wonder have much of a difference I might have made if I had thrown something at one of the men, or at least pulled the man down out of the murderers reach.

Coming away from that I remember thinking this all the time. 'I am weak, I am alone, I am just another weak woman. Why was I born a like this? I didn't want to live a life of frailty and weakness? I want to be free, to fly, to sail, to walk, wherever I wish, and not have a string of people worrying for me.'

'Men are free, they go wherever they please, they might have some burdens, but they are not held back by them, they are free.

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Many years have past since that disaster, and my town hasn't had anything like it since then.

I have decided I want to be remembered as a person who challenged the world, someone who wasn't afraid to do and try something different. To be remembered and respected by the best and most courageous of people, those who will stand up for others who can't defend themselves.'

I'm sixteen, and I'm already sick of the looks I get from when I'm with my mother. I wish people will just stop assuming that I'll be just like her. She is beautiful and knows how to look good in anything, but I'm not like her in any way, and I don't want to be. She can get anything she wants from a man by dressing a certain way and by flirting. I think it's slightly disgusting and decided that I couldn't stay with her in the same house whenever she had her weird friends over. I just can't live around people I don't trust.

And so I've taken up with going to the library more often than anyone else. I spend time there whenever I get the chance. I read novels, biographies, autobiographies, newspapers, and documentaries, basically everything. I love reading of adventures and thrilling stories of the past, and when I start something exciting I find it hard to put down, which is why I'm now being laughed at so much at school. I'm known as the 'Blind Book Worm', everyone thinks it's funny, especially since I fell down the stairs because I was reading and didn't see where I was going, and again at the main school hall after collecting my award for best historical report. I can't believe how unlucky I am.

So, yes, I'm a fool that falls down a lot, but I wouldn't want to give my books and stories up for anything. What do girls my age talk about anyway? Nothing, but rubbish and guys and the clothes they wear, and what they refuse to eat. What idiots! I'm ashamed to be one of them. I couldn't care about stuff like that it would be a waste of my time.

I have decided I don't want to fall in love, it hasn't helped my mother much. I never knew my father and mum hasn't ever said much about him, other than the fact that he liked to fight. Has my mother heard herself resently, she fights all the time with her newest boyfriend. Yes, I'll admit that mum has provided me with a lot of money to help with my education, but the thought of receiving it from these saps of men is just distribing.

I don't want money, mum loves it. She lives for it, but is never satisfied with anything. I don't see why people would want something that can not be treasured it has to be of value something either beautiful or useful.

I don't want fame, I don't want thousands of people seeing and criticizing my face and the way I dress. I just want to be respected and able to see the hand of justice at work.

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Well I hope you liked my first chapter, I will be character building for Tashigi first, then I'll introduce the other characters.

Author note. Abigail Skywalker :D