Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A lovely June morning found two people sailing towards their destination in a small dinghy as the sun shone brightly. Nami, shielding her eyes with one hand, let out a long, suffering sigh that seemed to hang heavy in the bright air.

“Seriously,” she muttered, her voice edged with disbelief, “we could have chosen any boat, something sturdy, something reliable. But no, you just had to pick this... this glorified bathtub. Sometimes, Luffy, I honestly wonder where your common sense goes.”

A burst of carefree laughter answered her complaint. Luffy, perched at the front of the dinghy, turned around, his wide grin splitting his face under the sun. “It’s way more fun this way, Nami!” he declared, his eyes practically sparkling with mischief and excitement. He pointed ahead, towards a disturbance on the otherwise calm water. “Look! A whirlpool! We’re heading straight for it!” His beam widened impossibly, his eyes glimmering with the thrill of impending chaos, completely oblivious to the danger.

Nami’s frustration, simmering since they’d set sail in the 'dinghy of questionable integrity,' boiled over. Her eyes widened in disbelief and rage, teeth bared in a not-so-friendly grimace as she lunged forward and delivered a sharp, practiced smack to the back of Luffy’s head.

“A whirlpool? We’re heading into a whirlpool, and you think this is funny?!” she shrieked, clutching her aching palm.

His only response was a louder, more unrestrained peal of laughter that echoed over the water as the small boat, seemingly drawn by an invisible force, plunged headfirst into the swirling vortex. The world tilted precariously.

Still chuckling, despite the boat being tossed about like a toy, Luffy somehow managed to wrestle open the lids of two large, sturdy wooden barrels that had been stowed in the dinghy. With a long-suffering groan, resignation etched deep on her face, Nami didn't hesitate. She scrambled into one barrel and immediately pulled the lid shut from inside, the darkness enveloping her.

She could still faintly hear his boisterous laughter, slightly muffled by the wood, as he climbed into his barrel, and she shook her head, reflecting on how much her life had transformed since meeting Luffy. She didn't enjoy dwelling on what-ifs and potential outcomes, but she likely wouldn’t have survived much longer without him.

The barrels, now sealed capsules against the churning water, were violently drawn deeper into the whirlpool. The spinning intensified, making her dizzy and disoriented within the suffocating darkness. Through clenched teeth, she mentally – and maybe even audibly – cursed Luffy to the deepest pits of whatever watery hell awaited them, before the violent motion finally overwhelmed her senses, and everything faded mercifully to black.

When consciousness trickled back, it was slow and disorienting. The first sensation was the gritty unevenness of sand grating against her cheek. She was sprawled unceremoniously on her side, the faint sound of lapping waves reaching her ears. Scrambling awkwardly to her feet, brushing sand from her clothes, Nami blinked rapidly, scanning the deserted stretch of beach. A cold knot of pure panic twisted in her gut. Her barrel lay beside her, intact but solitary. There was no sign of the other barrel. No sign of him.

A surge of adrenaline propelled her forward. Ignoring the stitch in her side, she sprinted down the shoreline, her voice hoarse as she screamed Luffy’s name alongside a string of creative, highly unladylike curses directed at his general existence and poor life choices. Breathless, her lungs burning, she finally stumbled to a halt. Her frantic gaze fell upon the looming, dark shape of a dense, ominous-looking forest bordering the beach. Her left eye twitched involuntarily. “What am I thinking?” she muttered to herself, running a trembling hand through her damp hair. “It’s Luffy, for god’s sake. He’s always getting into trouble. He’ll be fine. Probably already found food or picked a fight with a bear.” She scoffed, trying to inject some confidence into her tone, though her heart still pounded nervously. “What a fool I am, worrying.”

A sudden, horrific thought struck her. “For his sake, I really hope there aren’t any bugs... in... that... forest….”

She shivered at the thought of those little creatures getting too close, and, steeling herself with a deep, shuddering breath, squared her shoulders and strode determinedly into the shadowed depths of the forest.

Meanwhile, on the complete opposite side of the island, having washed ashore with considerably less drama (and perhaps, Nami would argue, less common sense), Luffy had already dashed headfirst into the dense woodland. Oblivious to potential dangers like venomous snakes or territorial beasts, he plunged deeper, batting away low-hanging branches and pushing through thick brambles with careless ease, his infectious laughter occasionally echoing through the trees. His carefree advance, however, was abruptly halted.

Standing directly in his path, partially hidden by the foliage but unmistakably holding a firearm directed shakily at him, was a young woman. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear, and her hands trembled visibly around the pistol grip.

"Don't... don't come any closer!" she stammered, her voice barely a strained whisper, fear radiating from her in palpable waves.

A familiar, almost melodic "Shishishishishi," chuckled Luffy, completely unfazed by the weapon pointed at him. He took another step forward. "Go ahead," he said, his voice light and confident. "That won't work on me."

Her nerves, already frayed to the absolute breaking point by whatever ordeal she had endured, snapped. Her eyes squeezed shut, and with a strangled whimper, the woman squeezed the trigger.

The distant, sharp crack of a gunshot reached Nami’s ears through the rustling leaves. She froze for a fraction of a second, a wave of resigned exasperation flooding over her. A long, tired sigh escaped her lips. "Luffy," she murmured, her voice soft but laced with absolute certainty and a hint of long-suffering affection. Then, the worry surged, overriding her annoyance. Abandoning all caution, she broke into a dead run towards the direction of the sound.

She arrived moments later, bursting into a small, overgrown clearing, breathless and leaning against a tree for support. The scene before her was classic Luffy chaos. He was standing there, laughing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, while the woman, utterly shell-shocked, was clutching a smoking pistol, her face a mask of disbelief and terror. “Luffy, what have you done?!” Nami’s sharp, accusatory cry ripped through the tense air, startling the woman further.

In her panicked state, the woman reacted instinctively, wildly swinging the still-smoking weapon between Nami and Luffy, her eyes darting between them. As Luffy, ever straightforward and unconcerned, took another step forward, the woman's fragile composure shattered completely. She dissolved into ragged tears, her pleas tumbling out in a rush of desperate words for her life—or rather, she sobbed, for their lives.

“Their?” Both Nami and Luffy echoed the word simultaneously, a shared moment of confusion cutting through the tension. Their heads tilted, brows furrowed.

The brunette woman instantly clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening further as she realized she had blurted out something she hadn’t meant to reveal.

The laughter died completely on Luffy’s face. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden, startlingly intense seriousness. His expression hardened, the carefree boy replaced by someone focused and determined. "Nami," he said, his voice low and firm, "we need to help whoever she is protecting."

"Why?" Nami questioned, bewildered by the abrupt and drastic shift in his demeanor. One moment he was laughing at a gunshot, the next he was commanding an altruistic rescue.

"If she is desperate enough to try and fight... in her state..." Luffy didn't need to finish the sentence. The implication hung heavy in the air. Nami, despite her initial irritation, understood instantly. Someone else was in grave danger, likely unable to defend themselves if the woman was their only, terrified protector.

"You stay with her," Luffy commanded, his gaze fixed on the deeper forest. "I'm going to find the other person.” Without another word, without waiting for confirmation or argument, he turned and melted effortlessly into the dense, shadowed depths of the forest, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

As he ran deeper into the forest, following a path that was barely visible and praying he was headed in the right direction, thoughts of who could have done such a thing raced through his mind.

Then he burst out into a clearing and saw two tents barely holding together. He heard ragged breathing from one tent and dashed in its direction, skidding in front of it before coming to a complete stop at the entrance, shocked speechless by what he saw.

Zoro was floating. Or was he? He could feel pressure on the back of his knees. Was he still tied to that stake? Had all of that just been a dream? One gray eye flickered open, then quickly closed again against the intrusive light, but it was enough. Green…. Shells Town wasn’t that green. Not a dream then…. Shells Town wasn’t that green. Not a dream then, not the stake. Shells Town had been a brutal palette of arid brown earth, harsh yellow dust swirling in the wind, cracked gray concrete, and the sterile, blinding white of the Marine base walls. But what happened? Where was he?

He lost track of time until his back hit the ground. Pain. It exploded through him in a blinding flash of white, burning hot and consuming every nerve ending, every muscle fiber, every bone in his body. It wasn't just pain; it was a searing, all-encompassing agony that ripped a raw, guttural scream from his lungs, a sound that felt foreign and terrifying. The scream pierced the air, a solitary cacophony of anguish lost instantly in a sudden, horrifying flood of crimson. Blood, thick and viscous, surged around him, staining the rough, dark surfaces of rocks beneath him with a sickening, metallic scent.

He awoke again, this time keeping his eyes shut, the sounds of seagulls and waves lapping against wood slowly filtering into his awareness. Wait. Rewind. Seagulls and waves? Something wasn’t right. He sat up, the movement eliciting a fresh wave of agonizing pain. It contorted his spine, forcing a sharp gasp and making tears sting at the corners of his eyes despite his best efforts to suppress them. A choked groan, barely more than a stifled breath of pain, betrayed his awakening. Instantly, the familiar, soft weight of light footsteps was by his side. Ririka. She was here. He felt her arms wrap around him, her embrace surprisingly strong, holding him tight. Despite its comforting intent, the sudden pressure sent a searing jolt through what felt like fractured ribs, igniting a firestorm of agony beneath his skin. Her happy tears, warm and wet against his neck, mingled with his silent, internal screaming. The moment she finally let go, he slumped back down onto the boat's rough, wooden floor, his body trembling, heaving with a dry, painful nausea.

A few minutes crawled by, marked by the quiet sounds of the sea and Ririka's hushed, anxious presence beside him. He finally managed to catch his breath, the worst of the nausea subsiding just enough for him to attempt sitting upright more carefully this time, bracing himself with a hand against the boat's side. His right hand instinctively rose to his throbbing head, fingers pressing gently against a tender ache near his temple. Double vision blurred his sight, making the world swim in overlapping, distorted lines. He could still feel bile creeping relentlessly up his throat, leaving a bitter taste. The rhythmic sounds of the waves and gulls seemed muffled, coming from a distance, like he was underwater. Yet, through the shifting, hazy distortion, he saw Ririka's face, etched with worry and relief. He forced himself to mask his distress, managing a weak approximation of a laugh in response to her quiet, anxious inquiries about how he felt. His voice, when it came, was a hoarse, broken croak. "What… happened?" The effort was too much, and he immediately dissolved into a wracking, painful coughing fit that vibrated through his injured chest.

Once the spasm of coughing finally subsided, leaving his throat raw and burning, Ririka, visibly relieved he was lucid, launched into a detailed account of their rescue. Her voice, though soft, held a note of wonder and excitement as she described the unexpected arrival of their two saviors, two pirates who had found them barely alive on the rocks near the shore. She spoke of their unbelievable kindness, their generosity, and then, the part that made her eyes wide with a mix of awe and apprehension – their offer. Not just rescue, but an invitation to join their crew, a place aboard their ship. A sudden, strangled gasp escaped his lips. The full weight of their predicament crashed down upon him: their bounties were now public knowledge, effectively ending his career as a bounty hunter and hers as a barmaid. Their options were drastically reduced; in fact, this was their only option.

He sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he was now stuck with those three for the foreseeable future.

Chapter Text

“So, what’s your name?” asked the kid, a wide, infectious grin splitting his face as he bounced forward, utterly oblivious to personal space and getting right up in Zoro’s face. His dark, unruly hair seemed to defy gravity, and his eyes sparkled with a naive curiosity that Zoro found instantly irritating. Zoro grumbled, a low rumble in his chest, and tried to gently but firmly push the insistent boy back.

"I'm Zoro and this is Ririka," he managed, his voice rough like stones. He didn't appreciate strangers, especially energetic ones, invading his bubble.

"My name's Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be King of the Pirates!" the boy declared with an earnestness that bordered on the ridiculous, stretching his arms out wide as if to embrace the entire sea. "Oh, and that's Nami," he added as an afterthought, gesturing vaguely towards a young woman with bright orange hair who had just joined them, looking rather put-out. With that, Luffy seemed to lose interest for the moment and bounded away again, his laughter echoing.

Zoro snorted, a puff of air demonstrating his disdain for the lackluster-bordering-on-nonexistent introduction of his travel companion. He glanced at the woman, Nami, who was now sighing dramatically.

That thought of a shared, lackluster introduction seemed to be mirrored by said travel companion if the sharp, resounding smack she delivered to the back of Luffy’s head was any indication. Nami rubbed her palm, glaring at the boy who was now rubbing his skull with a yelp.

He fell asleep to the sound of Luffy and Nami squabbling like brother and sister, their voices eventually fading into the rhythm of the waves.

The world went wrong all at once. The endless song of waves and seagulls just... stopped. Zoro's eyes snapped open to gray walls, dead rocks, and decay. Shells Town. His head turned left – his arm splayed like a broken butterfly wing against the stake. Ririka hung beside him, crucified in the same way. To his right, Rika, Luffy, Nami – all bound, all waiting.

Footsteps scraped stone. His neck creaked as he turned. Kuina – but wrong, all wrong. Blood masked half her face like war paint, spilling like a river. Her neck jutted sideways, bones visible beneath skin. The funeral clothes he'd last seen her in hung pristine against the filth. Her smile stretched too wide, too sharp, black eyes boring into his soul.

"You killed me," she whispered, her voice laced with a demented giggle. "Don't you remember?"

The humming started – a lullaby twisted wrong. Kuina drifted right, pressing cold metal to Nami's temple. Thrashing. Twisting. The gun cracked. Orange hair billowed like silk as Nami slumped, blood painting rivers down her face.

Luffy laughed when she reached him. That fearless, stupid laugh.

'Bullets can't hurt him,' Zoro's mind chanted. 'He's rubber, he's safe, Ririka told me about the bullet bouncing off, scared her half to death, he's safe, he's safe, he's–'

Bang.

Except no, the bullet burrowed into Luffy's skull with a wet thunk, and nonononono it was not possible, and it couldn’t be, but the laughter choked into a gasp. And he saw it all, the shock, the pain and the nothingness that settled in those eyes, and his head fell, and the strawhat fell to the ground, and blood rained onto woven straw. Zoro's screams died in his locked jaw, every muscle frozen, but his mind wailed.

She went to Rika. A simple execution. Again. She didn’t suffer. Like last time. A bullet between her eyes. It was in her back.

And his head turned left. And Ririka got shot. And he couldn’t hear anything, ears ringing. From the gunshots or the guilt?

Her lips had moved. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

It’s not your fault.

It’s not your fault.

It’s not your fault.

“It’s your fault.”

Bang.

Kuina shot herself and everything disappeared.

He opened his eyes, but they saw nothing but red. Blood. So much blood. It coated everything – the deck, the sky, his hands. He started swinging his fists around wildly, desperately trying to fend off the unseen horrors, one of them unexpectedly connecting with something soft but firm. A yelp, then strong hands clamped down on his wrists, pinning him. A scream tore from his throat, a plea to be released. But they didn’t. He heard voices, whispers that he couldn't understand; were they speaking to him? He shook his head violently, trying to clear the terrifying vision, and slowly, blessedly, the blood faded. It was replaced by the tranquil, endless expanse of blue sky above, the calming, rhythmic swell of the sea below, and the steady, reassuring presence of the small boat beneath him. A bone-deep tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding seeped out of his body, leaving him weak and trembling. Then, black started to overcome his vision, the darkness creeping in from the edges. He struggled weakly against it, not wanting to sink back into the depths where the nightmare waited, not wanting to relive that. But the exhaustion was too great, the release too tempting, and he was out before long.

Ririka quietly observed the aftermath of the sudden, violent chaos that had erupted on the small boat. Luffy was panting, his chest heaving, his hands still gripping Zoro’s wrists, though his grip had loosened significantly now that Zoro was unconscious. Nami had scrambled away, ending up on the far side of the boat, clutching her nose, which was already blooming purple and bleeding freely from where Zoro’s flailing fist had connected. She was disheveled, her orange hair a mess around her face, and her throat was raw and likely burnt from her earlier screams of surprise and alarm. Fortunately, outside of the frantic splash of water that had soaked parts of the deck and a single, sodden blanket that had been lost to the sea during the thrashing, the boat itself was okay. Crouching beside her friend, the man she had inadvertently dragged into her own new, chaotic life, Ririka gently stroked his familiar green hair. A sad, knowing smile touched her lips. She knew exactly the demons his mind had conjured; she had often been visited by the same ones for the past month.

“Your daughter is dead.”

The words, delivered with casual, cold finality by the marine officer standing in the doorway of her small bar, struck her like a physical blow.

Your daughter is dead.

Y̵͎͘ò̷̺u̶̪̒r̵͔̃ ̸͔͠d̴̨̍a̷̺̓u̵͖͘g̵̙͊h̶̭́ṭ̸̒e̷̡͝ṟ̴̕ ̴̗̓ĭ̸͖s̶͇͝ ̷̍͜d̷̤̂e̴̙͋a̶̗̍d̸̟̑.̴͙̕

Ÿ̵̢̰͙̺̤͂͂́ȍ̷̹͓̻͗̈u̸̥̫̙͕̬̽r̷͓͖̬̐ ̷̪̱̪̘̩͐̋͒͝d̶̬̯̺̟̊̈́͆̅̂a̴͇̯͉̅͐͑̔̅ṵ̵̧̱̦̆̽ͅḡ̸̡͉̱͙ͅh̴̡̭̐̚̚ť̶͚́͌͗̚e̵̺̯̼̻͍͛̍̆ȑ̴̢͔̹̫̃͗͋ͅ ̷̭̜̯͋ḭ̴̧̛̳͚̯̆̓̓͝s̸̪̭̱̈̍̆́̔ ̶̭̭̰̻͂d̶̪̬̹͋͑́e̵̦̥̟͓̋͑̀́͜ȃ̵͍͉̟̠̃͝d̶̥̔͘͜.̷̨͑̿

Static filled her mind, eyes unseeing. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was too tight, her lungs refusing to expand. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a cruel joke, a misunderstanding.

She couldn’t believe it. Not her sweet, kind, gentle, funny daughter. Her precious girl with the bright eyes and the even brighter laugh. What had she possibly done to deserve this? To be taken from her, from the world, so brutally?

“She tried to give food to the prisoner.” The marine’s voice cut through the static, explaining as if it were a perfectly reasonable justification for murder.

She had spoken out loud. A strangled question escaped her lips: "Did… did she suffer?" The marine’s hesitant headshake, the way he avoided her eyes, and his swift, uncomfortable departure left her burning with a furious, cold fire that seemed to consume her from the inside out. The usual patrons, sensing the shift in the air, the oppressive dread, had fled the moment the marine arrived, leaving the bar empty save for her. But she held back the rising tide of her rage, forcing it down with immense effort. Not now. Not at him. He was just the messenger. He was not the one deserving of her anger. That was reserved for someone else entirely.

She half-expected Helmeppo, Commander Morgan’s arrogant, useless son, to swagger in, disrupting the silence with his usual boorish demands, but for once, he remained absent.

As dusk settled, another marine arrived. Ririka plastered a forced, brittle smile onto her face, ready to serve. The mask crumbled the moment she saw what he carried: rolled-up wanted posters, damp with fresh ink. Her breath hitched. “Roronoa Zoro’s execution,” they proclaimed in stark lettering, scheduled for seven o’clock the following morning in the town square. Him? The swordsman who had silently endured days of exposure and starvation for the sake of a little girl’s mistake? The man who had protected her daughter by being the one punished? He was being executed? That would not stand. Not after everything else. She had to act.

With grim, unwavering determination hardening her features, she gathered her collection of sharpest kitchen knives from behind the counter, their familiar weight a strange comfort in her trembling hands. She packed a meager supply of essentials – some bread, a water skin, a few coins – stuffing them into a simple satchel. Her course was set, not for the docks, but toward the courtyard where the execution platform stood, where the symbols of Marine authority gathered. Each step she took towards the town square fueled the escalating inferno within her. First, they’d taken her daughter for an act of simple, innocent kindness; now, they intended to claim the life of the man who had saved the very lives of the people who lived in this town, the man whose stoicism in the face of injustice was the reason her daughter hadn't faced more severe consequences. That. Would. Not. Happen. Not while she still drew breath.

A crimson haze began to obscure her vision, the world around her taking on a terrifying red tint. The ensuing events remained largely a blur, a horrifying kaleidoscope of fragmented, visceral memories flashing through her mind like a broken film reel: the cold, polished glint of her sharpest kitchen knife under the weak moonlight filtering into the courtyard, the sickeningly warm spray of blood that began to paint the drab grey stones, spreading crimson replacing the mundane colour everywhere, the horrifying expression of surprise and pain contorted on Commander Morgan’s face in the final seconds of his life, the hot, sticky blood staining her clothes a deep, indelible red, the viscera scattered across the courtyard like macabre, glistening decorations, the chilling, alien sound of her demented laughter echoing in the sudden silence, a sound she barely recognized as her own.

When consciousness finally returned, she was no longer in the blood-soaked courtyard. She was being half-dragged, half-carried towards the docks by Zoro, the legendary pirate hunter, who looked terrified, like he had just witnessed a monster step out of her skin. Ỷ̶̱̳̮͍̩̺̈́ŏ̸͇u̴̦͐̊͠͝.̴̢̛͚̖̍͐͜ͅ ̵̡̭̳̔̀͜H̵̢̛̛̼̣̗̥͊͛̃̓͘e̴̘̥͂̐ ̶͓̠͓̪̙̐͠s̷̰̖̖̺͊̓͛a̴̹̩̮̬̣̺̎̀̀͠w̷̨̙̝͍͆ ̴̪̪̳̼̗͍̔y̵̲̥̳̜̘͓̎̆̚ỏ̶̭͔̠͂̊͆̑̽u̴̡͑̃̆.̵̢̩̯̼̲̙̲̍͗̓̋. She didn’t remember freeing him. Ỷ̸̤̺̰͂o̴̩͓̤͌̍̀́͜ͅṷ̴̣̯̥̩͛͗́̆̾ ̵̼̠̲̋̃̒̋̇d̸͓͕̂̂͂ͅo̵͍͉̣͕̿͝ͅṇ̶͎͋̑̽͘'̴͉̹̘͒̒͌̊̃̎t̵̬͙̼͍̳̉͗̆̾̔̚ ̸̹̥̖͈̙̦̒͐͠k̴͔̈́̌̆̚n̷̩̰͖͒̏͜ȯ̷̥̳̯̼̪̂͂́͘͘w̵̛͓͙̦̗̝̣͛̃́ ̷͍͕̮́͋̅̈́͐̆ͅͅh̵̜̑̉̕͠å̴̧̧̮̣͈̘͝l̴̪͕̯̖̯͙̿́́̑͌͝f̷̢̗̺̈̇̎͠ ̴̧̣̺̗̽̌ͅo̵̞͊͋̑̍̊͝f̷̰̐̕ ̶͍̪͕̱̱̇͐͋̃̇ẃ̵͉͈̇̓ḧ̵̨̡̛̦̠̭ấ̵͓̞͖͍̳̬̈́͠ẗ̵̹̝̳́ ̷̛͕͈͔̋ͅw̷̻͖̍̚é̸̍͗͜͠ ̶̡͚̩̪̼̇̉͜͝d̷̥͂̽͘͝i̴͕̯̘͍̩̬͆̅̊̕d̴̥͍͙́̐͜.̸̢̮̯̞͋̍̅̇̾.̶̛͚͎̝̻̝̌̂͌̈́̕.̵̲̝͗́̀ͅ

They didn’t hesitate. They leaped into the nearest boat bobbing by the docks, its ropes thick and sturdy. With swift, desperate strokes of a borrowed knife, Zoro severed its moorings, the ropes snapping with a sharp crack against the wood, leaving Shells Town and the bloody ruins of its formerly pristine marine base receding behind them.

She was snapped out of her reminiscing when Luffy grabbed onto her arm with surprising strength and started shaking her so hard she could almost feel her brain rattle loosely around in her skull. The motion was jarring, pulling her back to the present with an unwelcome abruptness.

After managing to pry his surprisingly strong grip off her arm, she sighed, rubbing her bicep and glaring pointedly at a laughing Nami who found the whole scene hilarious. “What’s the matter, Luffy?” she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

“Island!” the boy shouted excitedly, his eyes wide and shining as he pointed a wobbly finger towards a small, dark shape slowly approaching on the horizon.

Nami, having regained some composure (and hopefully treated her nose), retrieved a sodden, crumpled map from her bag. She shook it with a sigh, droplets of saltwater flying, before carefully, gingerly, unfolding the damp parchment. She muttered to herself for a moment, her fingernail tracing lines across the water-stained surface, calculating their position and potential destinations, before finally sitting upright. "Based on our current drift and this map," she announced, her voice practical despite the circumstances, "our course is set for Orange Town. It looks like a decent-sized port." She paused, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Unfortunately, we won't arrive before nightfall."

A few hours later, her prediction had come true. The island was noticeably closer now, its outline clearer against the deepening twilight, but still too far to reach before darkness fully descended. Luffy, ever impatient, looked dejected. He sat listlessly by the boat’s side, half-dangling over the edge and trailing his hand in the cool water, his earlier excitement having completely evaporated. As the night started to fall on the boat and its four disparate occupants, bringing with it the vast, star-filled sky and the deep, ink-black sea, so too did the cold. It was a biting chill that seemed to rise from the water itself. And, it was at this moment that they collectively realized their predicament: the only blanket aboard, a thin but functional cover, had been earlier, unceremoniously tossed overboard by Zoro during his nightmarish thrashing fit.

They all looked at Zoro. Luffy wore a pouty, accusing stare. Nami’s look was a mixture of mild resentment and weary resignation. Ririka’s was just... knowing, and slightly amused despite the discomfort. It was a look of shared “just our luck, isn’t it?” directed squarely at the sleeping swordsman.

Zoro awoke slowly, a dull throbbing in his jaw, and a strange, heavy feeling of pressure across his chest. He groaned softly, yawned, and blinked his eyes open, looking down. Spread across his torso, taking up a surprising amount of space for someone so thin, was Luffy, fast asleep, his mouth agape and a small puddle of drool steadily expanding on Zoro's shirt. To his left, nestled comfortably beneath his arm, her head resting against his ribs, was Ririka, her breathing soft and even. Turning his head carefully, wincing internally at the stiff muscles in his neck, he saw Nami. She was awake, leaning against his right shoulder, a determined frown on her face as she meticulously studied the damp map clutched in her hand.

He coughed, a dry, rough sound that startled Nami, making her jump slightly and glance at him. He croaked, his voice thick with sleep and annoyance, “Why the fuck are you lot on or near me?”

Nami giggled, a short, sharp sound that did little to soothe his irritation. "Well," she explained, her voice light but with a hint of teasing, "you threw the only blanket we had overboard last night, and it was freezing," she emphasized the last word by rubbing her arms.

He huffed, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. He hated that these newcomers had to witness his weakness, his vulnerability to the nightmares that still plagued him. Ririka was different; she knew, she understood. They’d fought and survived together for a month now, their shared experiences forging a silent bond. But these two... they were strangers.

Just as he was contemplating how to extricate himself from the pile of sleeping (and not-so-sleeping) bodies, Luffy sprang awake with the suddenness of a release spring. His head snapped up, catching Zoro squarely in the jaw. Zoro flinched violently, the sharp pain making him jerk backward. His head hit the hardwood of the boat with a solid thunk, which in turn startled Ririka awake. Nami's sharp cry of "Luffy!" cut through the morning air, immediately followed by Luffy's unconcerned, cheerful, "Sorry, Zoro!" as if hitting someone in the face was a perfectly normal occurrence.

‘I’m going to murder him,’ Zoro thought, gingerly rubbing his throbbing jaw and the back of his head. He shot a glare at Luffy, who seemed completely oblivious, already scanning the horizon with wide eyes.

“Hey! I can see Lime Village!” yelled Luffy suddenly, his voice full of renewed energy. He bounced to his feet and ran to the other end of the boat, nearly capsizing it with his sudden weight shift.

“It’s Orange Town, Luffy,” sighed Nami, rolling her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "But yes, he's right," she added, confirming the sighting as she peered in the same direction. "We should be mooring at their docks in about thirty minutes."

As the boat approached the docks, all their eyes were fixed on the small town.

Chapter Text

The gentle lapping of waves against the hull was the only sound as the small dinghy nudged against the weathered wood of the dock. As they came to a stop, Nami moved with practiced efficiency, securing the boat with ropes, her movements precise. She coiled the line and tied it off, her gaze briefly sweeping the quiet, seemingly deserted port.

Not even a second after her task was complete, before the boat had even settled fully, the coiled energy that was Monkey D. Luffy exploded into action. With a whoop of anticipation, he vaulted from the dinghy onto the dock, a blur of red vest and straw hat, dragging a slightly dazed Ririka by the arm in his wake. Ririka stumbled for a moment, catching her balance, then let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand Luffy-induced headaches. She shook her head slowly, her eyes falling upon the third member of their small party still slumbering in the boat – the green-haired swordsman, Roronoa Zoro, currently contributing a low, rumbling snore to the peaceful atmosphere.

Luffy, oblivious to anything but his boundless energy and curiosity, was already towing Ririka away from the docks and toward the cluster of buildings that constituted the small town. The salt air gave way to the dusty smell of distressed wood as they approached. He was practically bouncing with excitement about exploring a new place, but as soon as they reached what should have been the main street, he stopped dead in his tracks, the energy draining from him in an instant. Ririka bumped into his back, then followed his gaze.

The town was a tableau of devastation. Buildings stood half-collapsed, splintered timbers and shattered tiles spilling into the street like discarded toys. Debris lay strewn everywhere – broken pottery, tattered cloth, the ghostly outlines of what were once homes and shops. Dust hung in the still air, a silent testament to the violence that had occurred. And amidst this ruin, a small, white dog, covered in grime and shivering slightly, whimpered near the skeletal remains of one building, its nose occasionally nudging at a pile of rubble.

"Luffy..." Ririka's voice was barely a whisper, catching in her throat as she pointed a trembling finger. Beneath the wreckage, dark, rusty-colored stains marred the ground, stark against the pale dust. Her eyes widened with horror, and the unspoken truth settled heavily in the air. "I... I don't think anyone made it."

Luffy's rubbery face, usually so expressive of simple joy, hardened. His gaze dropped to the ground, fixed on the stained earth, and his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles blanched white. A visible tremor ran through his body, a rare physical manifestation of the deep sadness and anger that churned beneath his surface. But just as quickly as the wave of despair hit him, a sudden resolve flickered in his dark eyes. He took a deep breath and, without a word, marched toward the whimpering dog, sinking down onto his knees beside the small creature in the dirt.

“Hey there,” he said softly, his voice a gentle, stark contrast to the surrounding devastation. The dog, startled but not running, looked up at him with large, mournful eyes, its gaze drifting back to the ruined building as if it held the answers to unasked questions. Luffy followed the dog's gaze back to the rubble. “That place must mean a lot to you, huh? It looks like... it was your home.” He paused, the quiet tragedy of the scene settling over him heavier now. “But no one’s here anymore… just you and us.”

The dog whimpered again, a heart-wrenching sound, its eyes glistening faintly with unshed tears, still fixated on the ruins as if waiting for someone to emerge. “Do you want to come with us?” Luffy asked, extending a tentative hand that the dog didn't shy away from. “Away from all of this?” Luffy’s heart ached at the thought of leaving the small survivor behind in this lonely, destroyed place.

The dog tilted its head, confusion etched across its furry face, a silent question in its posture. “I don’t think anyone’s coming back…” Luffy murmured, rising slowly to his feet, his eyes still on the dog. To his surprise, the dog stood too, shaking itself lightly, and then, without hesitation, began to follow Luffy like a small, determined shadow.

With his perpetual hands-behind-his-head saunter, Luffy ambled back toward the docks, the dog trotting obediently at his heels. Ririka trailed behind them, shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief at Luffy's sudden adoption of a stray and sadness at the scene they had witnessed. The dog, meanwhile, seemed to have found a flicker of hope in their presence, its tail giving a small, tentative wag.

Meanwhile, back at the docks, a massive, imposing shadow loomed over their small, vulnerable dinghy. Nami, who had been tidying loose ropes, looked up, her eyes widening in disbelief and alarm just as the colossal hull of a caravel, dwarfing their little boat, slammed into the docks with a groaning crash. The impact sent a jarring shockwave through the wood, and the resulting waves rocked their small boat violently, sloshing cold sea spray over the gunwale and onto the sleeping form of Zoro.

“Wut? Whassapening?” he mumbled groggily, sputtering slightly from the cold splash, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked around, blinking away the sleepiness.

Nami's silence spoke volumes. Her face was utterly drained of color as she stared up at the towering, dark wood of the mysterious ship looming beside their rickety dinghy. Her usual fiery spirit seemed momentarily extinguished, replaced by a cold knot of fear in her stomach.

“What’s freaking you out?” Zoro grunted, pushing himself up to a sitting position, still shaking his head to clear the fog. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that a ship this big could approach without me noticing?” She whisper-shouted, her voice laced with disbelief, and Zoro winced at the truth in her words.

They sat in tense silence, the air thick with anticipation and unanswered questions. The immense caravel remained motionless, a silent, enigmatic giant, offering no clue as to its purpose or occupants.

“Well,” Zoro said finally, breaking the silence, his voice regaining its typical casual tone after the initial shock. “Wanna see what’s up there?” A mischievous grin, the familiar glint of adventure and danger, crept across his face, replacing the earlier grogginess. The unknown wasn't just a threat to him; it was an invitation.

Nami reacted instantly, grabbing Zoro's sleeve, her fingers digging in and trembling slightly. "Are you insane or just terminally stupid?" The words came out in a harsh, urgent whisper, her eyes pleading with him to reconsider. "What if it's a trap? What if they're hostile?"

Zoro's hand, however, was already closing around the rough wood of the ladder rung leading up the sheer side of the ship. That infuriatingly confident, half-smile played across his lips. "Then we'll handle it," he said, his voice calm and utterly certain. The casual confidence in his voice, the unwavering certainty of his ability to face whatever waited above, made Nami’s stomach flip – she could never quite decide if the sensation was from sheer anxiety or reluctant admiration for his reckless courage.

She sighed heavily, dropping her head into her hands in a theatrical facepalm born of pure exasperation. “Oh, why do I even bother…” she muttered to herself, knowing full well that leaving him to go alone was not an option. Reluctantly, she grabbed onto the bottom rung of the ladder as well, preparing to follow him into the unknown.

They began the climb, the ladder creaking slightly under their weight, the deck above hidden from view. The tension built with every rung ascended. They reached close to the top, Zoro's head just cresting the deck level. He paused there for a moment longer than Nami expected, his body language suddenly stiffening.

"Hey! Are you ever getting off that ladder or what?!" Nami's shout, fueled by impatience and nerves, echoed across the quiet water, breaking the tense silence.

Zoro remained frozen at the top rung for another second, his head just visible, before suddenly lurching into frantic action. He scrambled the last few rungs onto the deck and, in one fluid, surprisingly gentle motion despite his urgency, reached back, grabbed Nami by the wrist, and yanked her up and over the railing behind him.

“Seriously, Zoro! What took you so long that y-” She was cut off abruptly as Zoro, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and warning, grabbed her chin and turned her head, forcing her to look at what had stopped him.

A boy stood in the middle of the wide deck. He looked barely younger than they were, maybe mid-to-late teens. He had noticeable bandages wrapped around his neck, suggesting a recent injury, and an unusually long nose that was impossible to miss. He was shaking visibly, trembling like a leaf in a storm, and pointing a simple slingshot, clutched in his trembling hands, directly at them. Behind him, partially obscured by a pile of crates, a blonde girl and three much younger kids were huddled together, fear etched on their faces. And adding an almost bizarre detail to the scene, a crow was perched calmly on the older boy's shoulder.

Strangers. There were strangers on their ship. Usopp’s breath caught in his throat. What if they were Kuro’s men, sent after them to make sure no one had survived? (The thought made his wounds burn like they were from yesterday and not a month ago.)

Well then, he was not going down without a fight. He shakily gripped his slingshot, ready to fight anyone who wanted to hurt Kaya or the children.

Zoro watched the scene unfold, a flicker of amusement crossing his face beneath his usual stoicism. The kid was a mess, visibly trembling, pointing a slingshot at him . Yet, despite his obvious terror, he hadn't bolted. He stood his ground, protecting those behind him. To stand firm before the infamous East Blue demon, even armed only with a toy, took some serious courage—or perhaps just plain stupidity, he mused with a smirk, finding a strange sort of respect for the trembling boy.

He tried to take a step forward, to assess the situation properly, maybe even engage them, but… his legs refused to move. It felt like his feet were rooted to the deck. A wave of dizziness washed over him, sudden and disorienting. He turned his eyes to Nami beside him and saw his fear reflected in her wide, terrified gaze. Suddenly, without warning, his legs gave out completely, and he collapsed onto the deck with a loud, undignified thud. Nami simultaneously let out a strangled cry and began shouting for help, her voice high-pitched with panic. He wanted to scream back, tell her not to, that it could be a trap just like she'd feared; she was right—they shouldn’t have come aboard. But his mouth wouldn’t open; he couldn’t make a sound, couldn't warn her, couldn't move. Then, for what felt like the umpteenth time (it was becoming absurd, truly), darkness enveloped him, pulling him under.

He heard it all: the thud, the cry for help. But… what could he do? Should he even do something? Was it a trap? How could he help? He couldn’t exactly see what was happening. Then he felt Kaya grab his wrist, then his hand, his slingshot clattering to the deck, before guiding him forward, he didn’t know where, but he trusted her. She stopped, then guided him to kneel. Instantly, he got an armful of a crying person. When they stopped, there was silence, broken only by the sound of scissors cutting through fabric. 

Then, they gasped, “Wait, you… You’re blind?” He simply nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“How long?”

“Give or take a month,” he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant.

“How did it happen? If that’s okay to ask…”

“No problem.” He paused, the memory still fresh. “Pirates tried to take over our village. We tried to stop them, but…”

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air: we weren't strong enough.

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Oh, sorry! I’m Nami, and the person your friend is looking after is Zoro.”

“Wait, wait, wait… Zoro? THE Zoro? The East Blue demon? That Zoro?” A moment of stunned silence followed. “Oh, no. I’m screwed.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Nami chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “He seemed pretty impressed that you didn’t bolt.”

“Well…” He waved a hand vaguely in front of his face. “Couldn’t exactly see him, if you catch my drift, so I wasn’t as terrified as I probably should have been.” Clearing his throat, he introduced himself, “Oh, and my name’s Usopp. This is my friend Kaya, and the kids…” He turned his head in a futile search, a frown creasing his brow. “Where are the kids?!”

The sounds stopped before Kaya replied, “I sent them down to grab my supplies.”

He let out a sigh of relief.

Nami felt numb. She was alone. Luffy and Ririka were god-knows-where, and Zoro was passed out next to her. So when the strangers arrived, and the girl started cutting Zoro’s shirt (he was going to be mad as hell; this was his only shirt), she jumped into the long-nosed boy’s arms, crying.

When she finally calmed down, she looked up and saw milky eyes with deformed irises. She gasped, ‘He was blind ?!’

She was shocked. So that was why Zoro being there hadn’t scared him as much as it could’ve. He could not see them.

After some back-and-forth with him (Usopp, his name was Usopp), she learned that pirates had done this to him (they were so similar, she mused; the difference was that he had to save himself).

A few minutes later, Zoro groaned, coughed, and sat up abruptly, nearly headbutting Kaya.

“Zoro, you’re okay!”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, looking confused.

Nami gave him a tight smile, “Oh, maybe because you went down like a sack of potatoes and didn’t respond till now?!”

Zoro paled. Yup, she was pissed.

Just then, they heard Luffy’s screaming from down the dirt road.

Luffy was happy. Already, a new crewmate! He was going to have a huge crew!

Then, he slowed down. Next to their small boat, there was a bigger ship, not even anchored.

He frowned. Zoro and Ririka were not on their boat. So, for him, there was one answer: they were on the big ship. But why? Only one way to find out. He grabbed Ririka and the dog with one arm, then stretched the other until it grabbed the railing and let go.

With Ririka screaming the whole way, they landed on the deck, right in front of Zoro and Nami.

Chapter Text

After Luffy’s abrupt entrance, chaos exploded—a tangle of limbs, a dozen voices, the deck sounding like a flock of startled seagulls had crash-landed. Nami scrambled to restore order. Zoro, meanwhile, was too busy reassembling his thoughts, each one a puzzle piece with a dent from a recent headbutt. He massaged his temples, muttering about needing more sake.

Eventually, Nami’s voice, sharp enough to shave steel—cut through the chaos. Zoro’s glare (possibly curdling milk, definitely silencing complaints) helped herd the chaos into something like order. They recounted their separate journeys and the reasons they had all ended up crammed onto this small boat. The new crewmates, initially bewildered, gradually absorbed the information, their faces shifting from confusion to dawning understanding.

Then, because insanity clearly wasn’t rich enough, Luffy—beaming, oblivious—plopped a cherry on top: “I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Usopp, already teetering on the edge of sanity, nearly had a full-blown panic attack. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes darted around as if searching for an escape route, preferably one that led back to Syrup Village. But in the end, they had, miraculously, impossibly, acquired a boat and six new crewmates in a single day – a feat which Nami, ever the pragmatist, attributed to dumb luck and an abundance of gullible individuals.

After a tense day and an even tenser night, where no one had slept a wink, Luffy had finally remembered where he knew Usopp from.

"Wait..." he mumbled, the words slow at first, drawn out as he wrestled with the foggy recesses of his memory, then rushing out as the memory clicked fully into place with the force of a tidal wave. "You're Yasopp's kid, right?!"

And that was when everyone learned, mostly from Luffy’s enthusiastic, slightly garbled explanation, punctuated by wild gestures and a complete disregard for social niceties, that Shanks’ crew – A Yonko's crew, a stunned Zoro had incredulously mouthed to Nami, his eyes wide with disbelief, his hardened exterior momentarily cracking to reveal a flicker of awe – had come to his home island when he was just a kid, maybe 7 years old. And one of the crewmembers, a sharpshooter named Yasopp, had done nothing but gush nonstop about his brilliant, brave, wonderful child, Usopp, for the whole six months they'd been anchored there. He remembered the stories filling the bar, the laughter accompanying each tale of Usopp's latest adventure, the pride shining in Yasopp's eyes.

“He talked about you all the time!” Luffy declared, beaming, as if sharing the best news in the world, oblivious to the gathering storm on Usopp's face. “They even left me a Denden Mushi and their number, just in case! You could call your dad right now!” he excitedly shouted, somehow pulling out a small, striped Denden Mushi from what seemed like thin air – Nami didn't even know he had one, let alone where he was keeping it! Probably in his straw hat, she surmised with a sigh. He held the transponder snail out to Usopp, completely oblivious to the sudden, dark look forming on the long-nosed boy’s face as he listened, the blood draining from his skin.

Then, without a word, Usopp just bolted. He turned on his heel and ran, disappearing into the interior cabins of the Going Merry, leaving behind a boat full of confused faces.

Nami, ever the perceptive one, immediately fixed Zoro with a look. It was the kind of look that screamed, 'You. Follow. Now. This is a Zoro-level situation, somehow. You're good at glaring and intimidating people. Use those skills for good (for once).' Zoro, caught off guard mid-yawn, merely arched a brow in silent question. "Why me?" he grumbled, crossing his arms and stubbornly planting his feet. Nami, too exasperated for words or perhaps wanting to avoid drawing more attention to the sensitive situation, launched into a full-body charade, flapping her arms like a demented seagull about to take flight, mimicking tears streaming down her face, and finally just jabbing a demanding finger at the cabin door, silently urging him with her intense gaze to get a move on. He rolled his eyes, a small sigh escaping him, but he got up. Nami's silent commands were, annoyingly, effective. "Fine, fine," he muttered, walking towards the door, "Just promise me I don't have to hug him."

Behind the door, he caught the unmistakable sound of someone's sobs. He rapped on the wood, announcing, "Just gonna let myself in, then." 

He found Usopp huddled on the bed, knees practically glued to his chin, his whole body shaking with each sob. Zoro plopped down beside him, scratching the back of his head, feeling as comfortable as a fish out of water. "So... uh... rough day, huh?" Smooth. Real smooth, Zoro. He mentally berated himself, wondering why he'd ever let Nami talk him into this. He was a swordsman, not a therapist.

A muffled voice spoke from behind his knees, barely audible. "Who sent you?"

Zoro jumped a little, startled by the suddenness of the question. "Uh... Nami did."

Usopp chuckled wetly, the sound laced with bitterness. "Yeah, figures. You look like you have no idea what to say."

"Yeah, laugh it off," he retorted, resorting to exaggerated hand gestures in an attempt to lighten the mood. "The famous East Blue demon, unable to talk to someone normally! Truly a fearsome sight."

"Y'know, for a supposed ‘demon’, you're pretty nice…" Usopp mumbled, his voice still thick with unshed tears.

Zoro visibly stiffened at the compliment, a faint flush touching his cheeks. He nervously cleared his throat, suddenly feeling intensely uncomfortable. People called him intimidating, scary, a monster – that, he could handle. Being called "nice" while someone was crying? Uncharted territory. Abort mission.

“So…uh…, anyway,” he stammered, fumbling his words even more now, trying to steer the conversation back to the original issue as gracefully as a bull in a shop. “Your dad, right? Why, uh…what was the issue back there? I mean, I get the whole “don’t wanna talk to my dad” thing if you’re mad or something, but uh… that felt… different. More... yeah, you know what I mean,” he finished lamely, giving up on articulate phrasing and scratching his head again, wishing for the simplicity of a sword fight.

Usopp hummed.

“Where do I even start… the beginning, I guess… So, my dad left when I was one. I don’t even know what he looks like, and now, thanks to Kuro, I never will. My mom told me once, he left before I could even walk or talk. Then she died when I was seven. The villagers… most of them didn’t care, and the ones that did, didn’t show it. The most they did was give me food, and I found out the hard way I couldn’t even trust that, when they let me eat poisonous mushrooms. ‘Didn’t want to raise a pirate’s child,’ they’d say. Like I chose any of this.” He took another shaky breath, the air too tight in his chest. “Anyway, my dad. He wants to be a pirate. Fine. But… I…How do you talk to someone you can’t even remember? Someone who didn’t care enough to… I don’t know, visit? Or even just send a letter? Or call? Never a word.” His voice started to rise, buried bitterness surging forth. “And now… now I also learn that the exact year Mom died, the year I was seven and left completely alone… he was on an island two days away by boat… treating Luffy like he’s his son? Spending six months there? Gushing about me to strangers while I was starving and grieving alone? I… I don’t know how to feel. It’s just… a lot.”

Zoro, wide-eyed from the unexpected trauma dump, stuttered,

"I... I honestly don't know whether to offer you a membership card to the 'I Hate My Father Figure' and the 'Welcome to the Self-Raised' clubs or just hug you." 

Usopp stared at him for a second, the tears still tracking down his face, but a small, shaky laugh escaped him. "You seriously have no idea how normal interactions work, do you?" he asked, half-sobbing, half-chuckling at the sheer, bizarre awkwardness of the swordsman.

Zoro just shook his head, a sheepish, almost embarrassed grin spreading across his face. "Nope," he admitted freely, the tension easing slightly between them. "Not a freakin' clue. Swords make more sense."

Which only made Usopp laugh harder, the sound still wet and shaky.

Then, out of nowhere, two skinny arms—seriously, had those villagers tried to starve him?—wrapped tight around Zoro’s middle. Usopp’s curls pressed into his chest. A whispered "Thanks" brushed against his ear before Usopp abruptly let go, curling back in on himself and pretending like nothing had happened.

Zoro chuckled before standing up. He held out a hand,

“Ready to face them?” he joked.

Wiping away tears, Usopp joked back,

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Just then, Nami opened the door,

“Guys, we’re nearing a ship, all hands needed on deck!”

They looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her out, where everyone was ready, eyes locked on a ship in the distance.

Chapter Text

As the ship neared, Zoro, connoisseur of bad news and worse company, growled low in his throat.

“Shit.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s the Miss Lover Duck. Alvida’s ship.” Just saying the name soured his mood.

Nami, ever practical, lifted an eyebrow. “Is she… strong?” she inquired, a hint of caution in her tone.

Zoro winced,

“Compared to me, no,” he admitted, tangling his hair with his fingers. “But…” His gaze flickered towards the relatively new additions to their chaotic crew. 

“But she’s still a threat.” 

He gave a sharp, humorless nod, the easygoing air momentarily replaced by a steely seriousness.

As the gap between the two ships closed, a strange quiet settled over the Miss Lover Duck. A palpable stillness, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the hulls. It was… unsettling. Alvida, the Iron Mace Alvida was many things – loud, bombastic, prone to fits of violent pique – but quiet was not typically in her repertoire.

After the two boats were level with each other, a plank was dropped, the heavy thud echoing across the slight gap connecting the two decks.

“Something’s not right… Alvida is usually rather… let’s say exuberant…” He stressed the word as if it were a synonym for ‘capable of ear-splitting shrieks and unnecessarily aggressive behavior, and an almost supernatural ability to locate anyone within fifty feet who had ever called her fat.’ “This could be a trap. Let’s be careful.”

“Because you know everything about 'being careful, ’ of course. I clearly remember you dismissing my concerns about 'being careful’, Mister ‘I handle potential traps by passing out’, y’know,” jeered Nami, her voice dripping with sarcasm like a leaking faucet.

Zoro rapidly cycled through shades of crimson, settling on a hue remarkably similar to Luffy’s bright red jacket. He mumbled something incoherent, a jumble of sounds that might have contained the phrase “how it was not the same at all,” and “completely different circumstances,” and something that sounded vaguely like “unfair low blows” but was mostly just wounded pride disguised as indignation. Before the verbal sparring could escalate into Zoro attempting to justify his questionable life choices, Luffy, who, until that moment, had been watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes, let out a booming laugh that bounced off the silent hulls of both ships. Before Zoro could even begin to formulate a coherent protest (or, indeed, register the full horror of what was about to happen because, let's be honest, things rarely registered quickly when Luffy was involved), the rubber captain surged forward. With a speed that belied his usual languor, he latched onto the back of Zoro’s collar, his grip surprisingly firm despite the elasticity of his arm.

“Alright, Zoro! You go first!” Luffy declared cheerfully, his grin stretching wider. And with a mighty, effortless heave, he tossed his first mate bodily across the newly laid plank. Zoro, a green-haired projectile momentarily freed from the bonds of gravity, sailed through the air with a surprised squawk, landing with a less-than-graceful thud on the deck of the Miss Love Duck. Luffy immediately followed his human cannonball with a casual hop, landing lightly beside his groaning swordsman with the air of someone who had merely stepped over a puddle.

‘And then,’ Nami thought, watching the chaotic display with a weary sense of familiarity, ‘there’s Luffy, who also willfully ignores any consideration about being careful in favor of just... jumping headfirst into danger.’ She let out a long, frustrated sigh, shaking her head in exasperation at her perpetually reckless captain and his first mate.

As Ririka, eager to help, rushed down the plank towards a groaning Zoro, who was already attempting to untangle himself with a string of muffled curses. Nami could practically hear the swordsman’s colorful vocabulary, directed with simmering fury at the back of their blissfully oblivious captain. She sighed. This was going to be interesting.

They carefully (except for Luffy, who had run in search of a kitchen, and Usopp, who, for obvious reasons, had stayed on their ship, alongside Kaya) started exploring the ship. A palpable sense of unease hung in the air, thick and cloying like old soup. They all felt the distinct sensation of being watched, the kind that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your internal alarm bells start doing a frantic jig.

The ship’s planks creaked with their every careful step, each groan of aged wood amplified in the unsettling silence. Distant, rushed footsteps echoed from deeper within the hull, like unseen occupants were playing a frantic game of Hide-and-Go-Seek with rules that were definitely not in their favor. Nami, her hand straying instinctively to her trusty bo staff, gripped the fabric of Zoro’s shirt as tightly as she could, her fingers creasing the once-probably-white material. It wasn't exactly subtle, but frankly, subtlety was overrated when your captain had just used your first mate as a human projectile and you were pretty sure the ship was haunted by bad vibes and possibly worse smells. She was prepared to use Zoro as a human shield if necessary.

And the smell… oh, the smell. It permeated the air, a sickly, pungent mix that assaulted the senses. The smell of rotten food, the kind that had been left to curdle for weeks, mingled nauseatingly with the metallic tang of dried blood. It was not a welcoming aroma. It was the kind of smell that screamed, 'Abandon Ship!' rather loudly.

Suddenly, the deck groaned beneath Zoro’s weight, and Nami shrieked—a banshee wail that could curdle milk three decks away. With the speed and agility of a terrified cat trying to escape a bath, she hiked up Zoro’s back, clinging to him like a furry, panic-stricken limpet. The sudden, unlooked-for addition of a shrieking, clawing navigator clamped onto his spine caused the poor guy to curse loudly a string of expletives that would make a seasoned pirate blush, his balance already precarious on the protesting plank, completely deserting him. With a tangled mess of limbs, frantic shouts, and a final, desperate scrabble, both of them went sprawling onto the floor in a heap.

They lay there for a breathless second, eyes wide, staring up at each other in mutual shock and indignity. Nami’s hair was askew, clinging to her face, and Zoro had a smudge of dust across his cheek. Before either of them could even begin to formulate an accusation (or, more likely, before Zoro could unleash the torrent of annoyed complaints brewing on his tongue), the floor beneath them, already weakened and protesting, let out a final, shuddering groan. With a sickening crack, the boards gave way entirely under their combined weight, and both Zoro and Nami plummeted into the absolute darkness beneath with startled cries.

Zoro yelped—a sound halfway between agony and outrage—as his back protested every old injury at once. Then Nami, with uncanny aim, landed heel-first in a spot that sent him curling up tight, his noises less like curses and more like the haunting regret of every swordsman who’s ever taken a low blow.

For a few seconds, there was only the creak of settling wood, Zoro’s wheezing attempts to remember how breathing worked, and Nami’s soft groan as she slowly peeled herself off what she now realized was not just the floor, but Zoro’s very bruised nether regions.

“I swear,” Zoro rasped, his voice a strangled whisper, “if you ever do that again, I’m switching ships. I’ll join… I dunno, maybe Buggy.”

Nami, still trying to orient herself in the pitch-black space, scoffed. “Don’t tempt me. You’d fit right in with that band of misfits.”

Zoro grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “better than getting heel-kicked in the family jewels,” but Nami ignored it. Her attention was already elsewhere.

Then, she screeched. Right in Zoro’s eardrums.

“THERE’S A.... THERE'S A RAT!!!!”

He started to turn, intending to mock her further, a wry smirk beginning to form on his face. He envisioned a small, scurrying thing, maybe a few inches long. Simple. Pathetic.

The smirk died a swift, horrific death.

His eyes, slowly adjusting to the gloom, landed on the source of Nami’s terror. Perched mere feet away, its eyes glinting unnervingly in the faint residual light that seemed to emanate purely from its malevolence, was the biggest rat he had ever seen. It wasn't just big; it was monstrous, probably the size of a small dog, its greasy fur matted and dark, its tail thick and reptilian. And in its mouth, it was calmly, sickeningly, crunching down on something that looked suspiciously like a human finger bone.

And, dear friends, it was then that Nami learned a universal truth: her own shrieks of terror, impressive as they were, couldn’t hold a candle to the soul-rending, world-shaking, high-pitched screeching that erupted from a truly terrified Roronoa Zoro. Panic, it turned out, had a voice—and it could probably be heard all the way to the Conomi Islands.

After the sonic assault was over, Nami uncovered her ears, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. This was prime blackmail material! 

“O-okay, let’s… let’s leave. Quietly. Right now. Very, very quietly,” shakily whispered Zoro.

Nami finally let the laughter bubble out, though she tried to stifle it into shaky breaths. “Quietly?” she jeered, jabbing a finger vaguely in the general direction of where she knew the legendary swordsman was currently attempting to fuse himself with the wall. “I would be shocked if there wasn’t a single soul in the entire Grand Line who wasn’t just made intimately aware that the legendary East Blue demon, Roronoa Zoro, is afraid of rats!”

“‘M not afraid of rats, just dog-sized ones!” hissed Zoro, piqued in his ego.

As if sensing his moment of weakness, the monstrous rodent, which had paused during Zoro's scream, now skittered forward a few inches, its beady eyes fixed on them, its whiskers twitching. And that was it. Zoro’s composure, already fragile, holding on by a wish, a prayer, and several yards of rapidly fraying nerve endings, shattered completely.

He didn't just get up; he launched himself, a blur of green in the darkness, propelled by pure, undiluted panic. He took off sprinting blindly in what he desperately hoped was the opposite direction from the terrifying rodent. Nami winced, listening to the rapid-fire succession of thuds, scrapes, and muffled curses as his terrified flight path intersected unfortunately with what sounded like several solid walls, a stack of crates, and possibly a loose barrel. The sounds of impact punctuated the silence left by his scream.

“Zoro!” she called out, a mix of exasperation and reluctant urgency in her voice. “Wait for me, you idiot!”

But it was too late. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and stalked cautiously forward, bo-staff held in front of her.

Above all of the chaos, Ririka's nerves were frayed. She'd heard high-pitched, ear-ringing screams coming from both Nami and Zoro (and the part of her brain not terrified thought this was good blackmail), followed by what sounded like a bull in a shop, colliding with just about every wall that could be down there.

She peered down the hole left by their previous fall, but saw nothing. She squinted, thinking maybe she would be able to find them, when she heard an unearthly screech. She immediately recoiled. "Okay, no. I'm gonna go get Luffy.”

Luffy, meanwhile, was deep in concentration. Not on any mission or threat, of course—he was sniffing. Nose up, lips pursed, feet carrying him in a slow zigzag across dusty wooden floorboards like a bloodhound possessed.

“Kitchen’s gotta be this way,” he muttered with the solemnity of a prophet. “Meat’s talkin’ to me…”

A loud crash echoed behind him. Luffy blinked. “Zoro?” He turned around just in time to see a blur of green and panic barrel out of a side corridor, sending bits and pieces of the wall he’d burst through everywhere.

Zoro skidded to a halt, panting, looking behind him like he’d just survived a natural disaster. “Close it! Shut it! Burn it!” he barked.

Luffy blinked again. “Burn what?”

“The hallway! The cursed rat corridor!” Zoro jabbed wildly behind him. “It followed me, Luffy. It followed me.”

“Ohhh,” Luffy said, nodding in grave understanding. “You found a boss monster?”

“It wasn’t a boss—it was a rat the size of a dog with glowing eyes!”

From down the hall came the distant pitter-patter of tiny clawed feet, and both men froze.

“I’m out,” Zoro muttered. He turned and strode away with grim dignity, only to veer sharply into a broom closet and slam the door.

Nami appeared seconds later, breathless and visibly unimpressed. “Of course, you ran to Luffy.”

“He’s the captain!” Zoro’s voice came muffled through the closet door. “He can fight it!”

Luffy scratched his head. “Sounds fun. Wanna show me?”

Nami stared at him. “You heard the screaming and thought that sounded fun?”

“Yeah!” Luffy grinned. “A rat that scary’s gotta be tasty!”

Just then, with a sudden, splintering crack, the broom closet door burst open. Zoro tumbled out in a tangle of limbs and green hair, letting out a startled, panicked screech that rivaled Nami’s original scream. He was instantly followed by another figure, equally panicked and shrieking just as loudly – a small figure with pale pink hair, covered head-to-toe in thick, dusty cobwebs, looking like a terrified ghost. Said figure fell directly on top of Zoro, landing awkwardly and headbutting him with surprising force right in the you-know-what. Zoro let out a choked wheeze of pain and surprise before instinctively pushing the assailant off him with a groan.

He jumped up, squinting at the young boy, who was trying to put back his glasses, knocked askew by his fall.

Before the boy could make heads or tails of the chaotic situation he’d landed in, or manage to get his glasses straight, Zoro reached down. With a grunt, he grabbed the kid under one arm, hoisting him up and holding him rather unceremoniously like an oddly shaped sports ball – one that was currently shaking like a leaf and covered in cobwebs.

“Alright,” Zoro growled, glaring down at the boy, trying desperately to shove the memory of his own, even though impressively high-pitched, rather embarrassing, panicked screeches to the back of his mind. “And who the fuck are you?”

The boy quivered in Zoro’s grip, wide-eyed behind askew glasses, and managed to squeak out a reply, voice thin and trembling.

“M-my name… m-my name’s C-coby…”

Zoro’s grip tightened, jaw set. “Coby, huh? What the hell were you doing stuffed in that closet?”

“I… I saw a rat… it was really big…”

“Wait, were you on Alvida’s crew?

The boy, Coby, nodded, his breath catching in a tiny sob. "Y-yeah... but the Marines arrested her a month ago..."

And Zoro's blood didn't just freeze in his veins – it turned to solid ice. His mind screeched to a halt. Because, what the actual fuck did he just hear? Alvida was arrested a month ago?

An icy dread spread through him. How long... how long had this kid been here? Trapped?

"And," he licked his dry lips, his voice rougher now, laced with a burgeoning horror he rarely felt. "They didn't... I don't know... see you? When they raided the ship?"

Coby whimpered again, tears starting to well in his eyes. With a trembling hand, he held out both of his thin wrists for Zoro to see. Faint, chafed red marks were clearly visible where rope or restraints had been digging into his skin.

And Zoro thinks to himself that if he didn’t already despise nearly all marines, this would be his turning point, because, with all due respect to their self-proclaimed authority, it begged stating again: what in the actual, god-fucking-damned hell? The marines’ logic, as far as Zoro could decipher from this horrific tableau, seemed to follow a twisted, incomprehensible path: One, they encounter a child, one clearly coerced or unwillingly involved in a pirate crew. Two, they successfully apprehend and arrest his captain. And three, instead of, say, extending a modicum of aid or basic human decency to the victim, they apparently made the executive decision to tie him up to… something, anything, and simply abandon him there for a month!?

“A month?” Zoro echoed, the growl in his voice deepening, though it wasn’t directed at Coby anymore. It was aimed across leagues of ocean at every self-righteous Marine he’d ever crossed paths with. “They just… left you?”

Coby whimpered again, nodding his head, trying to keep his glasses from sliding further down his nose. His pink hair, matted with dust and cobwebs, accentuated his spectral appearance. “Y-yes. After they took Alvida, they… they t-tied me up. So I wouldn’t get in the way, they said. They said someone would be back. But… they never came.”

Zoro felt his jaw clench. Not get in the way? The logic curdled in his gut. They’d treated him like discarded trash, a loose end to be tidied away.

“What about food? Or water?”

He whimpered, pointing at a more brown than clear trickle of water and biscuit wrappers. And for a split second, he saw himself, 19, tied to that stake, martyr of a little girl. It's just the place that changes, the rest is still the same. Zoro ground his teeth together. He wanted to scream. But not from fear, from anger. A kid, probably not even 16, had been tied in a closet for a month. Limited food and water. And yes, it was Shells Town, all over again, but he wanted to; he chose this. Coby hadn’t.

 “How old are you?”

“S-sixteen.”

And hearing that number made Zoro’s blood freeze in his veins. Sixteen. Fuck. 16, and he looks like he’s 12. 10, and he looks like he’s 8. Zoro could feel his mind racing, desperately trying to find a logical, even vaguely plausible explanation for the unadulterated fuckery he was witnessing, for the sheer, unfathomable cruelty of the marines’ actions. But he couldn’t find one. Because there simply wasn’t one. What conceivable justification could there be for leaving a sixteen-year-old – and God, that age just messed with him, because if the kid cleared five-foot-five and a hundred pounds, he’d eat his damn bandana – in a closet, with dirty, don’t-know-what-germs-are-in-it water and, from the look of it, 6 packs of biscuit that probably had mold and about every disease known to man on them for a month. He can see the ribs through the shirt that’s more holes than fabric and now that he looks at him, really does, he can see the way baby fat has melted away, the way every bone in his body is jutting out, pants staying on by pure luck, and shirt hanging off him like a scarecrow.

Off to the side, he barely registers Nami, hiding behind her hands, Luffy, head low, hat shadowing his eyes.

“Can you walk?” he asks gruffly.

The kid nodded jerkily, a weak, pathetic movement. Zoro dropped down, positioning himself before Coby, ready to test his strength. He helped the boy to his feet, supporting his slight frame. Coby stayed upright for exactly 0.1 seconds before his spindly legs gave out, and he crashed to the ground, landing heavily on his hands and knees, shaking like a leaf caught in the grip of a hurricane. He shook his head slowly, a sign of silent, desperate defeat. And in that moment, Zoro’s rapidly dwindling patience snapped entirely. He reached down, his large hand closing gently around Coby’s arm. Fuck, he’s so light, the thought registered with a jolt. He was so light that Zoro could barely feel him unless he focused on the shallow puffs of breath against his side. He shouldn't be this light, this small. He should be heavier, taller, stronger. This was more than just a month of neglect. Zoro scooped him up effortlessly and hoisted him onto his back in a spontaneous piggyback ride. Coby offered no resistance, simply pressing a cold, grimy cheek against Zoro’s shoulder, shallow puffs of ragged air warming his neck. He fell asleep right then and there, his small body going completely limp and unresisting against Zoro’s broad back, the exhaustion and trauma finally overwhelming him.

Zoro finally turned to face his crewmates fully, the anger still simmering beneath the surface, and saw the devastating effect of the scene on them. Nami had frozen completely, tears silent rivers tracking down her face. Luffy still hadn't uttered a single word, his usual boisterous energy replaced by an unnerving stillness, his eyes still hidden beneath the brim of his hat, radiating a quiet, potent fury.

“We need to go. Now.”

Luffy nods once and walks with a determination Zoro had not yet seen from the usually happy and energetic pirate.

They go through a doorway, and instantly, a sword held shakily (and Zoro could point out about 5 things that are wrong with that grip) finds its way to Zoro’s neck.

“Don’t. Make. A. Move.”