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It had nearly been three months since the incident happened. And yet each time she was alone, she would once again be perturbed with the same smothering thought. A persistent internal itch that no amount of meditation could relinquish.
The first few days, thoughts of the incident consumed her but didn't think anything of it and assumed it would eventually go away, it was, after all, a very rare occurrence. But it wasn't until weeks progressed into months, the thoughts, like a malady, worsened as the days went by. The debilitating thoughts hindered her from her training and further affected her work performance, even impairing the most tedious chores. Each time she was alone, flashes of the event would flood in. It was especially worse at night.
So many sleepless nights were spent ruminating, staring at the ceiling or at the ghastly swell of the moon outside her window. And just as she thought it wouldn't get serious, it did.
The thoughts soon manifested into a mortifying involuntary habit of pressing the back of her index and middle finger against her lips, reliving the fleeting moment that haunted her endlessly. She soon profusely stressed over the need to be more mindful over her actions because, although harmless, she was internally aware of how vulgar it truly was.
- before -
Tashigi would have continued to run in search of more civilians to evacuate the ravaged village, had she not heard the shrill wailing of a nearby woman. She jogged towards the commotion, hopping over collapsed concrete and palm trees, she squeezed through a crevice to find its source.
"You will die for this!"
The shriek belonged to a young tawny skinned girl kneeling over a collapsed gargantuan man. The girl was weeping over the person but her attention honed towards a slouched individual to her right. Craning her neck, Tashigi recognized the kneeling silhouette to be Roronoa Zoro. The sheen of sweat coating his naked torso reflecting the roaring inferno nearby, setting the contours of his muscles ablaze. But something about Roronoa's slumped figure indicated something was amiss. He staggered to stand but plunged back unto the uneven dirt ground, using one sword as a cane to prop himself up.
Tashigi's attention shot back to the girl when she cast both clawed hands up above her head- and from the dirt rose wispy clay figures with elongated spidery limbs and impossibly narrow heads. The Marine soon recognized the Devil Fruit user- The Doll Maker. One by one, the 'dolls' arms constrict and lengthened into thick sharp spikes.
"Kill him!" The girl bellowed.
The speed and agility of her puppets compensated for their frail physique and in a flash, Roronoa was immediately surrounded. The swordsman was able to fend them off with two swords, and the remainder of his strength. While the dolls didn't pose any real threat to the man's power, there was strength in their number and as the girl continued to create more of the hoard, Roronoa was soon overwhelmed.
A cut to the arm and a jab to the leg shouldn't trouble the adept swordsman yet his severe injuries from the prior battle impaired him and it wasn't long until he lay in a heap on the ground, glazed with fresh blood and gained new injury that aggravated the previous ones. It wasn't until Roronoa was dragged by the hair to the nearby river, his body limp, that Tashigi bolted to the man's rescue but only for the wind to be knocked out from her chest when she was met with two brutal blows, one on the ribs and another square on her jaw. She bounced and rolled on the ground but immediately scrambled to her feet, stabbing her sword on to the dirt to maintain her balance.
Blood surged from her throat and she blinked a couple of times to clear out the haziness of her vision. She searched for the man but he was nowhere in sight. Erratic waves undulating by the river bank suggested where some of the dolls had disappeared with Roronoa.
They were drowning him.
The remaining figures on the surface deviated their assault towards her. Naturally the Marine fought back, mutilating and penetrating at their gaunt frames, but her attacks proved futile. No matter how many she cut down, more would writhe from the ground and take their place.
But she knew their relentless assault only impeded her from her objective and every second spent fighting off the clay figures meant Roronoa's life was ticking away. So she turned her attention to the girl. The assailant responded by summoning more of her clay soldiers and the Marine wasted no time cutting her way through them, decapitating heads and dismembering extremities. She reckoned everyone else was busy fighting for their lives- no one would witness her onslaught. A perfect opportunity.
The opponent was within an arm's reach. A clean stroke of her blade- and the horde disintegrate into piles of dirt and gravel.
Tashigi hauled the burly man out of the water and released him on the grass with a grunt.
"Roronoa wake up.." No response. "Roronoa, hey!" She rocked his shoulders vigorously. The man remained unresponsive. Drawing her ears over his mouth, she realized he was not breathing and proceeded to press two fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse that wasn't there. She paused and swept her eyes over the man, taking in all the trauma his body borne in the recent battle.
Years of being a Marine, Tashigi knew well enough the immediate step in this situation but the thought left trails of ice through her veins. The next stage demands her to act immediately if her intent was to keep the man alive.
Without sparing anymore thought, she positioned two fists over his chest and began compressions, pumping at his chest with all her weight. Followed by what she feared- she lifted the man's chin, opening his airway and pressed her mouth over his and focused on delivering breaths, ignoring the taste of blood or the cold softness of his lips. She started with compressions again followed by breaths. Hoping to revive the man.
Come on, Roronoa.
She continued the cycle thirty more times, tears welling when he didn't respond until finally, his face pushed hers back. She leaned back and rolled him to his side. He coughs, water surged from his mouth. Disoriented, Roronoa grabbed her throat.
"It's me!" She heaved. "You're OK. Roronoa, you're OK!" She clenched on his wrist.
In between gasps, his eyes adjust to her and their surroundings. He released her and proceeded to expectorate more water.
The Marine fell on her haunches, relieved. He's safe. He's alive. And this should ease the tremors of her hands and the beating of her heart. But she struggled to fight for whatever composure she could master.
- present -
The incident shouldn't trouble her so much. In fact, she should be pleased for saving one of the people she owes a substantial amount to. Yet she couldn't help ridiculing herself because following that episode, all she could ever think about was the taste and the sensation of his lips on hers.
And as she looks up at the moon, two fingers pressed to her lips, she wonders if it ever crosses his mind too.