Chapter Text
Zoro had never given much credit to that soulmate shit. As far as he could remember, he'd always had that swirling seashell drawn on his lower abdomen, hidden at all times by his haramaki, and he couldn't care less. All those stories about finding his other half, the one to make him whole... it sounded like a whole load of crap to him, to be honest.
He'd first heard about soulmates when he was five, and it had been by accident. He'd intended to go to the forest to train, but his village was kind of special — the houses used to move around as they pleased — so he found himself in the river instead, where the women were doing laundry early in the morning.
Some old ladies were gossiping about the blacksmith's wife. Apparently, the woman'd met her soulmate on a pirate ship that had docked at the island for a few days, and had decided to run away with him. Some of the ladies were calling her names — bitch, whore... the usual — while others had taken pity on her and were arguing she couldn't have helped it, that the real mistake was to have married when she knew she had a soulmate.
"No one can fight destiny," Zoro heard one of them say.
A whole lot of bullshit indeed.
Zoro didn't believe in destiny. He was more than capable to forge his own path and didn't want his feats to be ascribed to any invisible hand guiding his actions. Besides, he'd never felt like something was missing; he'd never experienced the void in his heart adults attributed with not yet having met their soulmates.
Zoro was just Zoro, the only thing he needed to make him whole was his goal.
Because of that, he didn't talk much about his soulmark, not because he cared about hiding it but simply because he didn't think it was worth mentioning. That's why he didn't understand Kuina's indignation the day she came to him and hit him with a stick with no warning.
"Ouch! What the hell was that for?!" little Zoro pouted.
Kuina was fuming for some reason. "How come you never told me you had a soulmate?!" she yelled. "I had to hear it from the guys!"
Zoro looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Why would you want to know?"
"Why would I want to—? What the hell, Zoro?!" Kuina growled incredulously, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "C'mon, show me," she demanded, and just to avoid being hit again, Zoro complied.
He pushed his haramaki down and lifted his T-shirt to reveal the swirling seashell placed near his left hip. The outline was black like a tattoo, but the inside was shaded with different tints of grey, ranging from a light, cloudy hue to a darker, stormier color.
Kuina crouched for a better look. Her eyes sparkled with wonder — soulmarks were rare, only a handful of people on the island had one, and even fewer children their age.
However, just as fast as it was lit, the sparkle died down. In its place, a very sad expression overtook Kuina's features.
"Oh. I'm so sorry, Zoro. I wouldn't have asked if I'd known."
Zoro raised an eyebrow. Having a soulmate was suddenly bad? Given her initial reaction, Zoro'd assumed Kuina was one of those idiots who believed being destined for another was one of the greatest gifts the gods could give. It no longer seemed so, though. Maybe seeing his mark had made her finally understand what a load of crap it was?
"Whatever. I don't care. Even if I meet my soulmate someday, I'll never be able to stay with them. My dream will always come first," he said while covering his mark again.
"Even if you—? Wait, Zoro, do you even know how soulmarks work?"
Kuina blinked, her confusion so palpable that it made the little swordsman feel outraged. Of course he knew! He wasn't that ignorant!
"Of course I know! They're supposed to fill in with colors once you meet your soulmate," Zoro answered. "I know that much!" he added, because he didn't like Kuina's disbelieving look. As if he was missing something. Something very, very important.
"You need to talk to my father," was Kuina's sole explanation before grabbing Zoro's smaller wrist and dragging him towards the dojo.
It was her determined and slightly worried expression that made Zoro follow her without protest. The feeling that there was something—something important—he was supposed to know but didn't was growing inside him. Besides, Kuina was older and wiser—not by much though—which was the other reason why little Zoro decided to let himself be dragged along.
Once they reached the dojo, Kuina burst into the patio where Koshiro was teaching the older students shouting, "Dad! Zoro needs to speak to you!"
Her father turned towards her with a raised brow but an otherwise blank expression. It seemed like he was about to wave Kuina off—he was in the middle of a lesson, after all—when she clarified, "It's about his mark."
Koshiro's expression darkened.
"Boys, let's leave it here for the morning. We'll continue at 4 PM sharp. Don't be late," he told the class, and then strode toward Kuina and Zoro, who were standing in the patio's entrance. Once they were within earshot, he urged, "Follow me."
Zoro was starting to get genuinely concerned. Much like Kuina, Koshiro had reacted as if a great catastrophe loomed over them and Zoro was in the middle of the storm. Surely they were overreacting, right?
Their sensei guided them towards the kitchen, which was empty and dim that time of day. He retrieved the teapot from the cabinet, filled it with water, and turned on the stove. Once that was done, he turned around to face his pupils, but Kuina spoke before he could.
"You have to see it, dad," she blurted as she tugged at Zoro's haramaki, trying to uncover that patch of skin.
Zoro blushed beet red and tried to stop her. Fortunately, his sensei did it for him.
"I've already seen it," Koshiro interrupted with a serious voice. "I know."
A tense silence fell between father and daughter. Kuina appeared bewildered by her father's statement. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it when Koshiro gestured towards the chairs. "Please, sit down."
Both kids complied. Koshiro started talking as he searched for clean mugs in the cabinet.
"Kuina, what have you told him?"
"Nothing," the girl answered harshly. "Thought it was better if you did."
There was an accusatory ring in her voice. Her father seemed to notice it and sighed.
"Is someone going to fill me in today or...?" Zoro interrupted, his voice filled with fear, nerves, and anger, as neither Kuina nor Koshiro seemed in a hurry to explain what the hell was going on.
Without uttering a word, Koshiro lifted a hand to his right shoulder and pulled the robe aside, baring his skin. There was a soulmark there, one Zoro had seen before. It was a cherry blossom petal. Only... last time Zoro has seen it, it was a beautiful shade of pink. At that moment, it was light gray.
"I don't understand..." Zoro admitted, turning towards Kuina. "I thought your mother and father were soulmates. Why isn't sensei's mark colored?"
Kuina's mother—Koshiro's wife—had passed away almost two years ago. Zoro still remembered the tears, the despair, the pain. There had been a lot of talk about soulmates around that time—countless condolences given to Koshiro and pity for the void he was doomed to suffer for the rest of his life.
"Typically, when a person hasn't yet found their soulmate, the soulmark is merely an outline," Koshiro began to explain. "Then, when the pair finally meets, the mark is filled with beautiful colors. And if one of them dies before the other, the drawing turns grey." His voice was solemn, grave, and he spoke very slowly, as if to give Zoro time to process.
Kuina was likely thinking something similar—that the news would be life-shattering to Zoro—because the little swordsman felt her fingers intertwining with his own, as if to show her support.
"So... are you telling me my soulmate is dead?" Zoro deadpanned. No beating around the bush. No tears.
Koshiro nodded. "Sadly, that is the reality of the situation."
"And that was the big tragedy?!" Zoro snapped, outraged, rising from his chair abruptly. "That was it? My soulmate is dead? Big deal! Who cares?"
They’d scared the shit out of him with all that secrecy! And that was it?
Why should he mourn someone he'd never met? Someone he didn't care about, even? It was better that way! Now he didn't have to worry about breaking anyone's heartwhen he inevitably had to leave them behind to fulfill his dream.
Both Kuina and Koshiro gaped at him in disbelief, but it was Kuina who recovered first.
"You don't care?!" she shouted indignantly.
"No, I don't!" Zoro shouted back. "Why should I? I never asked for a soulmate to begin with! And even if I were interested in that shit, which I'm not, I wouldn't let a nameless god choose who I end up with!"
Kuina didn't respond—not for lack of willingness, but because she was at lost for words.
(How could someone be so heartless?!)
After a moment, her father placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it's better this way..."
Zoro huffed. He didn't have time for this. "If we're done with this nonsense, I want to keep training. I'll never become the greatest swordsman if I laze around all day!"
Without waiting for their reactions, he set off towards the forest, where he used to train more undisturbed.
Pffff. Soulmates. Who needed them, anyway? Shit like love or destiny were overrated.
(A few months later, as he was kneeling before Kuina's grave, gripping Wado's hilt, Zoro felt for the first time the void everyone always talked about when you lose half your soul. He wondered if that was what the shading of his soulmark meant: that Kuina's time was coming to an end. It would be a cruel twist of fate to pair a boy who didn't want a soulmate with a girl destined to leave him behind.
When he asked Koshiro about it, however, he merely gave him a sympathetic smile. That was not how soulmates worked. First of all, because Kuina didn't have a soulmark, and secondly, because the seashell on Zoro's lower abdomen didn't seem to be connected to her at all.
She never particularly liked the sea.)
When he turned sixteen, Zoro went out to sea. His goal was clear: defeat Mihawk, become the world's greatest swordsman, and fulfill his and Kuina's dream. He just wasn't expecting getting to the Grand Line would be so hard!
Sometimes he would come across a pirate with a decent bounty and was able to afford safe passage to the next island, and sometimes he would end up in a town that was too peaceful and he'd have to mop for it. Whatever the case, the sailors sure weren't swordsmen. People in his hometown weren't usually so chatty, drunken and rowdy. And they for sure weren't so nosy.
One of the sailors' favorite question to break the ice was, "Do you have soulmate?"
Initially, Zoro answered honestly though with disinterest. Yes, he did have a soulmark, but it'd been gray for as long as he could remember. No, he'd never met his soulmate. Yes, it'd been gray from a very early age. According to his sensei, it was gray already when he was brought to him as a baby.
Most sailors didn't believe him—there was a legend at sea according to which, when someone was destined to die young, fate spared their other half by not linking their souls.
Bullshit, as everything surrounding soulmates. All fairytales, legends, and speculation.
After the fourth island, Zoro started to answer with a flat "No", and if they continued to bother him, he would simply rest his hand on his swords and let them see the glint of Wado's steel.
Zoro was convinced he didn't need love in his life, nor anything related to it. Sailors, howeverm fell in love very easily. More than a few of his travelling companions used to spend more nights in brothels than inns when they were ashore. And more than a few would show up crying their eyes out the next morning because a beautiful whore had promised them the world and then mercilessly tossed them out as soon as they'd paid her fees.
Zoro wasn't that naïve. He was not a sailor. He didn't need love and didn't think anything could change his mind.
Until that beautiful brunette came along.
Zoro had just claimed a very juicy bounty and wasn't in his best mood—he might've been feeling a little homesick, not that he would admit that to anyone—so it wasn't his fault the first bar he encountered was a gay one. Not that he realized, at first. He just made a beeline for the counter and asked for booze—the cheapest they had, he valued quantity over quality.
Soon enough, a long-bearded man had claimed the barstool to his right. Later, Zoro wouldn't remember much about him, just that he was big, had a very long beard and his hand had shot out to pat Zoro's cock by way of greeting. The swordsman unsheathed Wado without missing a beat and that long beard wasn't so long anymore.
Needless to say, the man took off with a pitiful whine.
Zoro was sheathing his sword again when he heard a belly laugh ring behind him, and he'd turned around.
Oh.
This other boy didn't seem like a threat. He was skinny and flashy, with tight jeans and a half-shaved skull. He approached Zoro with a wide, wicked grin, eyes half-lidded flirtatiously.
And maybe Zoro was a little buzzed. And maybe he was feeling a little lonely. And maybe something sparked in him once those dexterous hands reached his thighs.
And maybe he'd come too soon and his companion had laughed his ass off at his expense—but fuck it'd been worthy.
Zoro asked himself why he hadn't thought of it before. Perhaps because, in his mind, he'd always thought sex was a by-product of love, and you couldn't have one without the other. Boy, had he been wrong.
Zoro discovered two things over the course of the next year: first, he had no interest in women—they were all selfish, deceiving witches—and secondly, he was very popular with men, no matter age or looks. Everyone wanted a piece of him.
But it was not love. Never was, no matter his partners' pleas and cries. More than one had thrown vases and furniture at him in the morning, when they'd awoken before him—Zoro tried not to let it happen too often—and the swordsman had been quick to explain that they'd been nothing more than a good fuck and he needed to leave before the ships left the harbor.
Okay, he could've been a little less blunt, but it wasn't his fault if they'd thought it was something it wasn't!
Despite all the inconveniences, he was saving a lot on inns.
Rare were the times when he could stay in bed a little longer, either because he had to catch an early morning ship or because his partner was getting a little too cuddly for his liking—Zoro hated sweets, after all.
Shirayama village had been one of those rare occasions. He'd caught the eye of an older man—in his early thirties, maybe late twenties—who was also passing by and was a scholar—an oceanographer. They'd understood each other's needs pretty quickly: they would fuck a couple of times, ask as few questions as possible, and as soon as one of them had to leave the island, they would never see each other again.
Great foreplay, great sex, but most importantly, when they were basking in the afterglow the other man hadn't tried to cuddle, or reach out, or trick Zoro into doing something he'd read in a romance novel. Instead, he'd just laid his head on the pillow and stared at Zoro's soulmark near his hip, fully visible now that he was naked.
Zoro grimaced. He knew what was about to come next. Something along the lines of "I’m sorry" or "My condolences." People just assumed and Zoro hated to receive their pity.
However, the man's next words startled him. "An Ammonite, uh. How uncommon."
"A what?” was Zoro's immediate reaction. Not because he had any interest in his soulmark, but because he hadn't quite caught the word.
"Yeah, it was a kind of mollusk from when the dinosaurs still walked the earth. Now supposedly extinct."
"Supposedly?"
"Well, there are legends, of course. Stories told by pirates. Apparently, there's a place on the Grand Line where the four seas converge, a place so isolated that creatures that disappeared long ago still exist. The ammonite is one of them."
Zoro couldn't help but snort at that. "Never believe stories pirates tell."
The other man nodded in agreement. "I'm a scientist, so of course I don't have the luxury of believing in legends, but... wouldn't it be amazing if the All Blue really existed? If creatures no human has ever seen could finally be studied, shown to the world, and..."
Zoro tuned him out right then and there. He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his pants from the floor. Rumor had it a pirate named Little Giant had docked the day before on the uninhabited part of the island, and knowing how the trees tended to move every time he took a walk through the woods, Zoro figured it would take him all morning to find the right spot.
He'd better get an early start.