I promised to have this up forever ago…I should come up with an excuse and try to explain myself, but all I can really say is that I'm lazy ;). Well, this is the second (and final) part to my ZoroxNami two-shot. I really don't have a fancy name for the little series thing like most writers do. Any ideas?

Title: Fatally Ironic
Author: Red Moon Santōryū
Category: One Piece
Rating: PG (K+)
Warnings: Blood, Character Death
Parings: Implied ZoroxNami
Summary: So much for Nami and seeing if maybe, just maybe, he had a shred of humanity left.
Audio Selection (New! XD): Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel
Word Count: 2,100
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters are property of Eiichirō Oda.

By nature, Zoro was stubborn.

For most of his twenty years, he had prided himself on not giving in, no matter what anyone did to try and sway him. He fought until he couldn't fight anymore, and even then he still managed to find something inside of him that forced him to push harder and fight even more. He would never admit that he was defeated, even if he was, he would never admit that he was in pain, even if he was, and he would most definitely never admit that he was wrong.

Even though most of the time he was.

It wasn't supposed to end this way. If he was going to die, it would be fighting "Hawk-Eyes" Mihawk, the best swordsman in the world. At least then, it would be a worthy death, something he could understand, something he could bring himself to accept. He may not die happy, but he could at least die with his dignity and pride.

But not like this, anything but this.

The great Roronoa Zoro, former bounty hunter, master of the Santōryū sword style, was going to die from a single bullet. One measly piece of led no bigger than his thumbnail was going to be his ultimate undoing. No great final battle with a legendary swordsman or an immense brawl with droves of lesser opponents coming at him. No; it was going to be one single damn bullet shot from one single damn marine that was going to kill him.

He had always thought that guns were pitiful weapons. You could stand far away from your opponent and still be able to kill him. Where was the fight in that? But after feeling the round ball hit the wall of his abdomen, tear through his lower torso, and exit through the small of his back, the only fight where guns were involved was the impossible fight to stay alive after being shot by one.

The force of the blow had literally knocked him off of his feet, his swords clattering to the deck as he felt the control of his body slip away. He had heard Luffy yell something, an unintelligible scream of rage, of anger. Usopp and Chopper had yelled his name, but it was muffled, the sound of his own heart thudding in his chest muting out the sounds of the world around him.

It seemed like he was falling in slow motion; his vision was dark and blurry, and it felt like he had been plunged into the ocean, his body floating slowly and surreally. But then his chest and face hit the hard, wet deck, and a shockwave of pain shot through his body and left him gasping for breath. Another scream, but so much more clear, the undeterred ringing of a bell in the din of his mind.

He heard her scream his name, a high pitched cry of agony, and he could only imagine her face, see the look of horror that had marred her features. God, you idiot, he thought, knowing fully well that she was staring at him in wide-eyed shock. Don't get distracted or you'll be next, woman! But he knew she couldn't hear him; he tried to force his mouth to move, his lips fighting to form words, but none came. He could only hold back the rising bile burning in his throat and the blood that was trickling down his chin.

Coughing harshly, Zoro managed to drag his hands beneath him, his palms smearing in the fresh blood, and push himself up. His arms quivered as he shifted some of his weight onto his knees, and his legs suddenly felt like gelatin. A sudden rush of nausea jerked his body as he coughed painfully.

Panting, he clutched the handle of Wadō Ichimonji and drove it into the deck, pulling himself up with a powerful roar. Through the din of the battle and haze of smoke, all the members of the Straw Hat Crew turned to see Zoro, blood pulsing from his gut, stand triumphantly against the pain of his wounds. But the image that filled their hearts with a sense of relief was diluted as he doubled over, crumbling to the ground as he vomited blood and partially digested food.

He then felt the ship lurch, knew they were leaving, that Luffy had somehow managed to propel the vessel away from the battle site. He heard the deafening roar of a cannon and felt the ship shake, figured Usopp had decided to put the guns to some use and cripple the marine craft that would undoubtedly peruse them.

Groaning, he reached up a bloody hand and pulled off the black bandana, clutching it in his fist like a lifeline. Suddenly, an inexplicable rush of anger, rage, frustration, pain, and sadness swept over him like a tidal wave and he slammed his clenched fist into the deck. The wood splintered beneath the force of the blow and the power was gone, spent in that one single burst of emotions, and he lay motionless, his ragged breathing and the uneven rise and fall of his back in breathing the only visible signs of life coming from the swordsman.

He then realized how quiet it was, the sounds of cannon fire from the marine ship only a distant and barely noticeable rumble. Then the pounding of several sets of footsteps approaching him broke the eerie silence, and the reality of the situation engulfed him. Two sets of strong hands moved him from his chest to rest on his back, the feeling of warm blood staining the back of his tattered shirt making him feel sick.

He began to cough violently, gasping for breath and feeling the same blood that was spilling from the two holes in his lower torso bubble up and close off his throat. He heard Chopper yell at no one in particular, "Sit him up before he suffocates!" and felt a pair of smaller, softer hands hook around his shoulders and hoist him up to where his upper body was almost vertical, resting back against something soft and warm and that smelled like tangerines.

"Why is it that people always confess their love for someone right before they die?"

That had been a month ago; never, not even at that moment, had he ever thought that the question he had so nonchalantly asked would ever apply to him. And yet there he lay, Chopper probing his wounds nervously as Usopp ran to fetch his medical kit, Luffy and Sanji looming over him, and Nami clutching his limp body to hers, and it suddenly struck him that the question applied so strongly to him that it was almost morbidly funny, just as the answer was.

"Because how else will the other person know, stupid?"

They won't, he thought to himself, feeling two slender arms wrap around his heaving torso to keep him propped up. There was desperation in the embrace, he noted silently, as if clinging to him would keep him alive, keep his soul from floating out of his body. Nami wasn't a stupid girl, he knew this all too well, but there was no earthly way she could have ever known how he felt about her.

But then, in retrospect, it was probably for the best. Wouldn't realized feelings that went deeper than the friendship and camaraderie of mere crew members only make the coming separation all the more painful? That struck Zoro as funny, though why anything would be even remotely humorous to a man who currently had two holes in his gut and his intestines on the verge of falling out would be beyond any sane individual.

How ironic, that something people dreamed about attaining was one of the most painful emotions that existed. Yes, it was very true that love probably caused him more pain than any physical injuries ever had. His first true experience with pain that stemmed from love was years ago, back when he had walked into the dojo to hear that Kuina had died. It was true, he had loved her, but in a more subtle sense; she was a sisterly figure, not to mention a comrade and fellow swordmaster.

But the love had acted as a catalyst with her death, making the pain all the more harder for him to bear. Perhaps that was why he had become so distant from any type of emotion, because he knew that, should something of that nature happen again, it would only make him weak. A swordsman had no business being weak, especially one like Zoro, who had driven himself to become nothing less than the best.

He had to wonder as he felt Chopper begin to wrap thick cotton bandages around his abdomen if maybe even death and love went hand-in-hand; they both brought untold amounts of pain, the mental wounds lasting far longer than the physical ones would. Well, that's just damn ironic, he thought as the delicate hand gripping his shoulder gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"So dumping all that on them at the last minute is better? They're already dealing with the loss, now they have to deal with the unknown bullshit."

He could hear something hitting the deck rapidly, making a quick rat-tat-tat on the wooden planks. Foggy eyes cracking open, he looked down to see his legs shaking rapidly, his feet twitching in wild spasms as his boots trembled against the deck. He couldn't feel his legs, or his arms, for that matter, and had to wonder if he was really just seeing things.

But then he felt the pressure on his shoulder leave and a sharp slap turn his head, the same hand that had dealt the blow then moving to caress the stinging flesh. "You need to stay awake," Nami whispered into his ear, her tone more defeated than the swordsman would have ever thought it could be. "Chopper said you need to stay awake…"

Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the one bleeding to death…The words almost made it out, but he decided against it; such a retort would do nothing but worry the rest of his crew and make Nami hit him again. Harder.

"So if you were to be dying and the person you loved was with you, but you'd never told her, or him, that you loved them, you wouldn't do it?"

That was the dumbest question she had probably ever asked him. Of course she had to know his answer. Why the hell did she think he would spill his guts out under any circumstances, dying or not? Besides, love was a fickle emotion that brought pain, one way or another. And while he was a firm believer that pain pushed weakness out of one's body, he didn't believe that it was emotional pain. Emotions made you weak, made you hesitate in battle, and if you hesitated, you died.

"Damn right."

He almost, almost felt sorry. Not just for Luffy, who would be losing his first mate and closest companion, or for Usopp and Chopper, who were going to have to stand guard without having someone to run to when a "ghost" appeared, or for Sanji, who was going to have no one to verbally and physically spar with every day.

No, he felt bad for Nami, because he knew how she felt about him. He knew how it hurt her to try and get close to him, only for whatever affection she was trying to give him to be all but shot down by his purposefully cold indifference. He knew because, quite frankly, he wanted to reciprocate what she was giving him. Maybe not in such a publicly obvious way, but he would have done it.

But he didn't. No, only a selfish fool would have done that, because Zoro knew that he would die before anyone else in the crew, most likely with a sword through him. And he knew that a relationship with Nami that went beyond the line of nakama would only hurt her. Because in all reality, that's all emotions did. They were like drugs, horrible ones, giving you a moment of pleasure only to be consumed by the almost unbearable pain of their repercussions.

And he wasn't about to inflict that upon her, not when she would already have to deal with losing him as only a friend.

His teeth gritting together as his vision blurred and darkened and the feeling in his legs and arms left again, he cursed silently and choked on more blood. So much for Mihawk and becoming the world's best swordsman. So much for Luffy and finding One Piece. So much for dying a warrior's death, instead slowly slipping away on a mangled ship with a hole in his torso the size of his fist. So much for Nami and seeing if maybe, just maybe, he still had a shred of humanity left.

He shut his eyes one final time and smirked.

One bullet.

Damn it.