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The bar is almost empty when Zoro enters, which, he won’t lie, sows a little doubt in his mind. Is this the wrong place, after all?
But no; Shakky is behind the bar, and Rayleigh is sitting at one of the stools, so it has to be there.
So Zoro does the only logical thing: grabs a bottle of sake and leaves for a walk.
Later, when the rest of the crew finally arrives, and Curly Brows comes to drag Zoro back to the bar—finally reunited with everyone after those two long years apart—the matter is brought up once more.
“What I still don’t understand,” the shitty cook says around a cigarette, once he stops fawning over Nami and Robin, “Is how did the Marimo of all people manage to arrive early.”
Zoro tilts his head to the side, stirring his drink with the straw inside it as he considers the question.
***
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” Perona asked, twirling the umbrella in her hands anxiously as she watched Zoro load up his boat.
Zoro breathed in deeply as he dropped another sack of provisions into the small hold. This had been the third time she asked that same question within the past hour, and it was starting to grate on his nerves more than he was willing to tolerate.
It was definitely an exercise in patience which, knowing Mihawks, was probably the whole point. Not that he had needed any help in coming up with the most tasking training regimen, or that Perona needed any help with annoying Zoro, but occasionally the two teamed up in an effort to drive Zoro insane, apparently.
“I’m sure,” he repeated for the n-th time, happily unfurling the sails.
“But what if you-”
“Honestly, drowning would be preferable to spending weeks on a small ship with only you for company,” Zoro rolled his eye. “Besides, what do you care? You’ve tried to drown me yourself.”
Perona pouted at that, lips pursing in a way she thought was cute but Zoro thought was anything but.
Before she could say something more, though, she was interrupted by the arrival of their gracious host.
“Roronoa Zoro,” Mihawks said, weirdly serious, and Zoro prepared himself for his words. What was it going to be? A last-minute advice? An acknowledgment of Zoro’s claim to his title? A word of pri- “I do hope this boat will end up in a more favourable condition than the first one I have lent you.”
…Or just a dig at Zoro, why not.
“It’s not like I’ll be returning it anyways,” Zoro grumbled, the ship swaying slightly as it drifted away from the shore. “Bye, I guess.”
“Safe travels,” Mihawks called, the words barely audible.
“Don’t get lost!” Perona added, waving wildly, and Zoro scowled as he caught the current dragging him further and further away from the Kuraigana island.
He would not miss that place.
…Much.
***
Zoro docked at the first inhabited island he could find. Mihawks might be the World’s Greatest Swordsman (for now!) but his taste in booze was shit. He only kept wine at home, and he wouldn’t even let Zoro have any.
After nearly two years of enforced sobriety, Zoro was dying for a proper drink.
He wasn’t really picky—as long as it wasn’t wine—which turned out to be a lucky stance to take, considering the bar seemed to be in the middle of… something.
It wasn’t really a barfight, considering the lack of actual brawling and the higher than usual levels of panic. The whole building was encased in some sort of a translucent bluish globe, but it didn’t stop Zoro from entering, so he didn’t bother worrying about it.
It did stop everyone else from running, though, Zoro discovered while liberating a tankard of ale from the hands of a crook who suddenly started to levitate. Not like the guy was going to need it, wherever he was being taken.
Zoro leaned against the doorframe as his gaze followed the floating pirate. There seemed to be some sort of a medical / butchering station set up in the middle of the bar, strangely devoid of blood but bountiful with levitating body parts. A bunch of guys in white boiler suits kept packing up the organs into crates, while another guy in a funny hat used a sword larger than himself to cut those out of the bodies they used to reside in.
“If you’re trying to be a bounty hunter, you’re doing it wrong,” Zoro called.
The hat guy turned around, his sword already coming down in an arc, but Zoro decided finishing his drink was more important than drawing his swords just yet.
The sword stopped mid-movement, and Zoro’s non-existent respect for the guy went up a notch. Stopping a blade this long on a dime while it was already in motion took some effort.
“...You’re part of Strawhat-ya’s crew.” The man said. It wasn’t a question.
Zoro downed the drink and slammed the tankard down.
“So what?” He said, one hand pointedly on the hilt of Shusui.
“I have no quarrel with you.”
The hat guy then proceeded to turn his back on Zoro, going back to his impromptu dissection.
Figuring he’d be better off looking for booze elsewhere, Zoro paid him no more mind as he left.
***
A few islands later, Zoro’s almost forgotten about the stranger. He’s found out his name from a wanted poster three towns ago — Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death, apparently — but Zoro wouldn’t have thought of him at all, if he didn’t stumble upon the man in the middle of a jungle.
(Zoro’s been wondering who put the jungle between the bar he was at and the harbor; maybe the stranger decided to play with the island like he did with all those small fry pirates before?)
Trafalgar seemed surprised to see him, though.
“Swordsman-ya,” Trafalgar greeted, warily, the grip on his sword tightening.
Now, Zoro didn’t really have a leg to stand on while carrying three swords, but that blade had to be at least two meters tall, and dragging it through the thick underbush couldn’t have been easy.
“Surgeon of Death,” Zoro nodded back. Then, because he couldn’t help himself. “Thought it was a mark of a poor surgeon to kill the patients.”
“I’m the greatest surgeon alive,” Trafalgar’s expression didn’t change, but he seemed to have a bit of an amused air to him. “My patients all make it out alive, as your captain can vouch for. My enemies usually do, too, for that matter; they just wish they were dead.”
That would have sounded cool, probably, if Zoro heard it all instead of immediately focusing on another part of it. “You’ve seen Luffy?”
“I’m the one who ensured Strawhat-ya made it out of Marineford alive,” Trafalgar nodded. “Did he not-?”
“Oh, I haven't seen him yet.”
Trafalgar paused at that. “It’s been two years.”
“I know, that’s why I’m making my way to Sabaody now.”
“I’ve heard rumours about you being directionally challenged, but…” Trafalgar shook his head. “Swordsman-ya, between the last island we’ve met on and this one, Sabaody is in the exact opposite direction.”
“Oh,” Zoro thought about it for a minute before shrugging. That’s why he left Kuraigana early, really.
Trafalgar didn’t seem to have anything else to say to him. Turning around, he started making his way through the jungle. As much as Zoro didn’t care about the guy, the way he kept awareness of his sword at all times, maneuvering it around the hanging vines and climbing shrubs... It's proof of great skill.
Perhaps that’s why he decided to follow after, trailing Trafalgar all the way to the harbour despite the man’s increasingly bewildered glances.
…The fact that the island stopped spinning with Trafalgar around was just a bonus.
***
Normally, Law cared little for people outside of his crew. He wouldn’t have cared for Roronoa Zoro either, if it wasn’t for the fact that his reputation clearly preceded him. And people didn’t remember the few months he spent on a rookie pirate crew, no; People remembered him as the Pirate Hunter.
Law had been wondering why the last island he had stopped at was so devoid of any pirates. That mystery was soon answered by finding Roronoa wandering through the jungle in circles, laughably close to the town while seemingly unable to see it.
After that encounter, Law had decided to cross the calm belt and finish gathering the hundred pirate hearts in the East Blue. He was really close now, and he wasn’t going to let Roronoa delay his plans, however accidental it might be.
Unfortunately for him, it didn’t seem like Zoro could be stopped by things like laws of physics, especially when it came to navigation.
Which is how Law ended up nearly walking into him as his crew was carrying the boxes full of hearts (and other organs) back to the Polar Tang.
“How did you get here?!” Law couldn’t help but ask, staring at Roronoa in bewilderment. The man only had a dinghy, how in the fuck did he cross the Calm Belt-?
“A Sea King caught on my fishing line and dragged me for a while,” Roronoa shrugged, as if it happened to everyone. “Why? Is it out of the way again?”
“We’re in East Blue, Swordsman-ya.”
“Ah.”
Law pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid the migraine he could feel gathering behind his eyes. If this was a preview of what dealing with the Strawhat-ya and the rest of the crew would be like, he was strongly rethinking his idea of an alliance.
Honestly, he was starting to feel bad for Roronoa. And he was almost done with the hearts, and Saobody was on the way to Marineford, kinda-
“Do you need a lift to Sabaody?” It slipped out, the tone coming out more genuine than the dry exasperation he had been aiming for.
He regretted asking already, but it’s not like he could take it back now. And chances were that Roronoa would decline, anyways-
“Sure,” Roronoa shrugged. “Might as well.”
Goddamn it.
***
For all intents and purposes, Roronoa was a pretty easy passenger. He pulled his weight with little complaint—when there was something he could do on the deck, in any case—he stayed out of the way when there was nothing to do, preferring to nap in some shadowy corner, and his diet of plain rice and booze was simple to accommodate.
Most of the time, it was easy to forget he was even on the ship.
Except for when Law, trying to get to the kitchens after pulling an allnighter, tripped right over his outstretched legs.
There was a moment of chaos which Law didn’t have the brainpower to register. By the time he was awake enough to think, he found himself sprawled across Roronoa’s lap, legs tangled and hand splayed over the swords by his side.
Law snatched his hand back like it burned, apology sticking in his throat. If someone had touched Kikoku without permission…
“We have beds, you know,” Law gritted out instead, trying and failing to separate himself from the swordsman. “Nice, comfortable beds, where your legs don’t pose a tripping hazard-”
“Like it better here,” Roronoa muttered, his eyes barely slipping open, arms still folded across his chest. He didn’t even twitch when Law crashed into him, didn’t consider himself in enough danger on the Polar Tang to startle when woken up like that, and Law wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
He braced, pushing himself off and only then realizing he was using Roronoa’s pec as a hand hold.
“At least don’t sleep right in the main corridor,” Law said, finally managing to climb to his feet and dust his pants off.
“It’s not like I can sleep out on the deck, we’re underwater.” Roronoa mumbled, appearing to be half asleep already.
Law left him to it, stifling a frustrated groan.
Food. He needed some food and zero annoying swordsmen.
***
There were only so many times Law could stomach getting tripped up in the corridors of his own ship. And if Roronoa wasn’t going to do anything about it—
He twisted his hand, calling up a room and switching both of their sprawled forms with a couple old treatises he left on his bed.
—Then Law would deal with it himself.
Roronoa hadn’t seemed to react beyond a soft grunt, rolling over to rest properly.
“Your bed’s hard,” he noted.
“You’re welcome to find alternate lodgings,” Law grumbled, switching himself with the covers instead of trying to yank the blankets out from underneath them both. “One that isn’t the floor-”
“Nah, I’m not complaining,” Roronoa clarified and seemingly fell asleep in an instant.
Without even getting underneath the covers, the heathen.
***
Law learned not to question the things Roronoa did, if only to retain his increasingly weak grip on his sanity. He didn’t question the limited diet, didn’t question why Roronoa kept coming back to sleep in his bed, and he definitely didn’t question the swordsman when he returned to the ship hours late with a suspicious amount of sake.
“Here,” he grunted as he passed by Law, hand reaching out towards him. He waited for Law to outstretch a hand before dropping a handful of coins.
Law didn’t even glance at them, shooting Roronoa a deadpan look. “If you’re trying to compensate me for your stay, this pittance is almost insulting.”
“You offered, so I’m a guest,” Roronoa shrugged. “I turned some random bounties in to buy the alcohol, but a couple of the coins looked weird. Figured it might be something you’d be interested in; You’ve got a bunch of them up on the wall.”
Law blinked, finally looking down at the coins in his grasp. His eyes widened as he brought them closer to his face. “Is that a- That’s the mirrored misprint! They noticed it fairly early, so only a few dozen coins ever escaped the minting press, and it’s been thought they’re entirely out of circulation-”
Roronoa grunted, vaguely amused. “Knew you’d like it,” he said, and continued on his way to wherever he holed up for his bouts of day drinking.
Law let his eyes trail after Zoro’s retreating back before he returned to the coins. These were really special. He’d need to make sure they had a spot of honour on the wall.
***
The pattern continued.
During the day, nothing really changed. But during the night, Law would find himself with a stowaway in his bed, often already snoozing away by the time he had returned to his cabin.
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the nuisance would wander the halls and drag Law to sleep if he had dared to stay up past the unspoken bedtime!
It was a travesty, he would grumble under his breath as he snuggled into the portable space heater that was Zoro.
At least the swordsman was making him feel warm again, for the first time since Cora-san.
(For the first time since Flevance.)
Sharing his bed was a small price to pay in face of that.
***
“We should spar,” Law blurted out the next time they were on deck, surprising Roronoa enough to make him pause in bringing the sake bottle to his mouth.
“What?”
“I have a sword, you have a sword—three of them, even!—and I don’t see you practicing on your own. Have to keep your skills sharp; Don’t tell me those blades are just for decoration?”
Zoro slowly put the cork back in the bottle, blindly putting it away as he continued staring straight at Law.
“You wanna fight?”
“Spar,” Law corrected. “I don’t actually want to kill you.”
Zoro snorted. “Assuming you could.”
Law inclined his head, letting Kikoku rest a little lower on his shoulder. “Assuming I could,” he agreed.
The smirk slowly slid off Zoro’s face, leaving a softer smile in its wake as his eyes trailed towards where Law’s hand gripped his nodachi.
He got to his feet, unsheathing the sword with white grip.
“Let’s see it, then.”
Law straightened, drawing Kikoku and switching her scabbard with a pencil he left on his desk, slipping it into his pocket for later.
It only took a couple strikes, though, before Zoro pushed against his sword with a small hop backwards.
“Don’t insult me,” he growled. “You have a devil fruit, don’t you? Use it!”
Well, since he insisted…
Twisting his hand, Law opened a Room, teleporting himself behind Zoro only to have two blades block Kikoku’s strike, a feral grin directed straight at him.
…Law had been afraid of overpowering Zoro if he used his power, but if anything, it seemed to have brought them onto equal footing now.
Wasn’t that exciting?
They danced across the deck, striking and parring at a speed that had Law’s veins buzz with exhilaration, and he felt absurdly proud of himself when Zoro had drawn the third sword.
The spar ended with three blades pressing at his neck, but Kikoku piercing through Zoro’s torso.
As droplets of blood trailed down from the nicks, Law realized that, at some point, he started grinning, too.
“Good fight,” Zoro nodded, withdrawing his blades and sheathing them with barely a wince. “Not that I mind having your sword inside me, but…”
Law startled. He blinked before finally understanding and slowly removing Kikoku.
“That’s going to be a pain to-” He started, but Law wasn’t paying attention; He opened a smaller Room, fixing the wound before it could even begin to cause issues. When he removed his hand from Zoro’s side, he nearly flinched at the heavy stare the other swordsman leveled at him. “...That’s handy.”
“The Op Op Fruit has many uses,” Law shrugged, retrieving Kikoku’s sheath. “There’s a reason why all its best users were doctors; It made them the best.”
“Seems like it’s in good hands, then.”
***
They arrive on Sabaody far too soon.
Zoro hesitated just before the plank, the rest of the crew having to work around him as they bustled around in preparation for restocking. Before Law could ask what was wrong, Zoro had grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dragging him into a kiss.
It took him a few seconds to register what was happening, and another few before he reciprocated eagerly.
Very eagerly.
He wasn’t distracted enough to not switch around the arms of everyone who wolfwhistled at them, though.
They separated—eventually—staring at each other for a moment before Zoro nodded and turned around.
“That’s it?” Law called, amused at the antics.
“Just wanted to do that,” Zoro raised a hand in a light wave. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
Smiling softly, Law leaned against the railing. “Hey, Zoro? The city is in the other direction.”
“I knew that!”
***
Zoro blinks, realizing that everyone is still looking at him patiently, their curiosity clearly piqued by his prolonged silence.
I had some help, he should say. It’s true, but…
“Guess I’m just better at navigating than the rest of y’all,” he shrugs, bringing the cup to his mouth to hide his smirk, reveling in the outrage his words caused.
