Elly did not sleep well that night.
She tossed and turned, fretting and reliving the scene of that bizarre fight on repeat in her mind. Aizawa had been there to protect her, not Zoro.
Somehow that felt wrong. She was disturbed by the fact that the green haired swordsman had not been there. He had <i>always</i> been there when she was seriously in danger. She thought back as she lay in her cool, dark room with the bubbles from her freshwater tanks creating a sleepy ambience she couldn't enjoy. And afterward, he had not lingered with her to see if she was all right. Elly frowned, then realized what was bothering her more than anything else.
He hadn't comforted her.
The big man would take her aside and tell her not to worry after an event like this. If she couldn't sleep, he would be there by her side until she did and he might even tuck her into bed.
She had waited until it really was quite late, not knowing why although her eyelids had been slowly closing of their own accord. She may even have nodded off on the couch in the living room...
...and had woken up there, not warm and safe in her bed. She clutched the sheets tightly around herself, frowning as hard as she could.
"Stupid cat," she hissed, then stopped, a wave of loneliness striking her. No. That was what he called her. "This is ridiculous," she called out in anger. "I'm a grown woman - a demon, even! Why do I care if my bodyguard treats me like..."
<i>Like a baby? Like he wants to protect me from everything? Like he maybe</i> cares <i>about me?</i>
"No. It's his job. I mean, ugh. Seriously." She flopped onto her back in the large bed, staring up at the ceiling. "He's made that more than clear. It's just a job."
There was one single hallway that separated them, and Zoro lay in his bed as well, even more furious at himself. He had been blind, fooled. She could have come to danger and he had not been there. It would have been only Aizawa if he had gotten his way, but the man had shown initiative and gathered up his own group of off work guardsmen to protect her.
The hooded people they gathered up had all the characteristics of an anti-demon cult. Things could get even more dangerous if there were more of them and, well, <i>was he the right man for the job</i>?
He didn't know anymore.
The churning in his stomach when he had thought she might be hurt was bad enough. But he had felt equal agony when she had been holding hands with the pale, tired man who had been there for her where he had failed. His predecessor had told him that he would "know when the time to step down" had come.
Maybe this was it.
But...
Leave her alone in the mansion with someone new? Go back to living far away, only coming when called upon? He kicked the covers off him forcefully, snarling in rage at himself. The closet was on the far side of the wall and Zoro stumbled over, sliding the doors open and pushing a stack of shirts away to get at what was in the back.
Piles and piles of tiny, button eyes and hearts, fuzzy, tiny stuffed animals that promised what he wanted but couldn't have. He sat down on the floor, pulling an armful of them to his bare chest. The guys were right; he was the one emptying that dumb crane every chance he got. He didn't want anyone to hold her, or kiss her, or go on dates with her. It was selfish and, suddenly, he understood. That was it. He stared down at the armful of plushes and grimaced, baring his teeth as he pushed the unwelcome thought to the front of his mind through sheer force of will.
He would be selfish to stay just because he <i>wanted</i> to.
"Shit," he husked roughly, holding the tiny kitten plushie he held up to his cheek. "Ahhh, <i>shit</i>."
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