Chapter Text
There are three young men sitting at a seat of honor in a rundown sort of tavern on an island somewhere in the heart of the East Blue. This battered port has seen better days, the whole town has, but today—just after the noon bells have chimed when usually it's hottest and the mood of the folk living there the most sour—cheers compel a cooling breeze into the air and a joyous atmosphere.
In the distance the hailing sounds of the dock workers are unchanged. And at the marketplace the haggling continues. An old woman still complains about the heat while children run in the ocean mist to cool off. But around the old port-side tavern, filled to the brim with those who know the good news?
It might as well be a holiday.
Sitting at a worn-down booth, the wooden seat may-laid by men soaked in salt water and years of wear with a sticky table top which never once has been completely clean, are the town heroes. Though a person would earn a brisk but full-bellied laugh if they bothered to call these three boys that.
These men are not do-gooders by trade. They are pirates; free spirits who wander the sea and live more off the romance of adventure than plunder, though they'll never turn their nose away from gold. And what they do now is enjoy the treasure they earned after a hearty battle. In this case the plunder happens to be free food, of which they take more than their fair share of.
The first man ravenously eating is of no fame yet, and goes by the name Luffy D. Monkey.
Luffy is an energetic sort of alpha, not at all serious in nature. And though he's a bit short and his arms seem to move with an unnatural gangeliness, he has a smile which radiates a peculiar but distinctly genuine aura which is undeniable to everyone who meets him—whether they like him or not. Elsewise he's an unremarkable looking young man, with shaggy black hair and a scrawny build.
His most notable feature a crescent scar under his right eye with obvious stitch marks that never properly healed, but the marring of his cheek tuns his boyish charm more rugged.
This strapping young man just turned nineteen, and all those who surround him, are destined for greatness. As of now though, he has not a single thing to his name besides the red linen vest he wears, a cut off pair of straw colored shorts, and a straw hat belted with a red silk—which he's never seen without.
The second sitting by the window is a small lad, a beta and for now remarkable only in how weak and feeble he is. Though also a full nineteen years old, he appears to be like a rounded child. His face is fat and his cheeks low hanging, and his person seems to be as small as his self-esteem, which had been hiding somewhere near the bottom of the sea.
He was a pirate until he'd come across the brazen and full-bodied straw hat man he now idolized. But this boy has a pure notion of justice in his heart, pure like the rosy color of his hair and the sparkle in his eye when he speaks of his dream.
This is Koby.
Though Koby will not walk side-by-side with Luffy for much longer, he will find his fate changed just by crossing paths with him for what few hours amounted to a little less than a day. He isn't sure how, but he'll one day stand as a proud, strong member of the Marines. And as that may make him enemies with his idol one day, he would have to prove himself to be a worthy opponent. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he ever could dare to be.
The third figure is of paramount importance to the coming retelling, but in the grandness of this adventure his perspective is just one of many key to weaving together the whole. Though he hardly realizes it himself, he has already morphed into the shape best suited to being Luffy's right hand.
Independent, strong, and stalwart.
This day he's finally been yanked from his idle wandering and set on the path destiny always meant for him. Monkey D. Luffy, who he's inexplicitly decided to follow to the ends of the known and unknown in exchange for his life, has given him the only thing he's ever lacked—direction.
Roronoa "Pirate Hunter" Zoro was his name. And unlike Luffy's, it came with the weight of a reputation. Over the last three years he'd become renowned as a bounty hunter across all the East Blue Sea. Once he set dark eyes on a target, it was said not a single criminal had ever escaped. Now, Zoro knew one or two of them had run off with their bounties unclaimed, but he wasn't fond of arguing over idiosyncrasies.
What he was absolutely sure of, was one thing. That one thing was the reason at twenty-five he was as feared as he was. Zoro was the best swordsman in the East Blue.
And one day, he would prove himself to be the best swordsman alive—he bet his life on it. He’d swear it to Luffy, and to anyone who asked. It was a promise almost as old as he was, made first between himself and his long dead friend who would never see her own dream to be the strongest come to pass, and so it merged with his.
His most notable feature was his hair—a pale green which he cut himself to keep it trim, and the three golden earing that dangled from his left ear lobe. Almost always he wore a plain white linen shirt and green trousers held up by a wide banded hip-warmer which he never took off. And until it came time to battle, there was a black bandana tied around his left bicep he’d put on to keep the sweat out of his eyes.
He was a strange fellow though, with an air of lazy confidence about him.
His skill with the sword was unparalleled in this part of the world, but not as absurd as his style of using them. Because of this, and the black bandana he wore around his head when he fought, it was not so much him hunted men anxiously hoped to never encounter, but any man with three swords always kept near at hand and a black, hooded gaze.
They learned not to laugh or ask where does he hold that third sword? when so many of their most infamous brothers on sea and land were picked off by his unusual fighting style. That answer was simply, yes, he did hold the third sword in his mouth. And no, it didn't hurt his jaw—at least not anymore.
However, at just that moment his mind wasn't busy thinking about swords, or training, or sword training. Zoro was set in a content lull, his belly full after days of starving on the execution block, waiting for the navy to free him. Koby had just declined Luffy's final offer to join his crew, intent instead on seeking the lawful path of navy service. An answer which Luffy accepted and had anticipated. Now his eyes were considering a woman who was quickly approaching their table with a curious up and down glance.
With Koby’s fate decided, the pair remaining would leave sooner rather than later, as the food on their table dwindled. And, like she'd planned it, the woman in front of them appeared at just that moment of lull when they hadn't quite stood to leave but were no longer eating. Well, Luffy still had meat in his hand, but he was no longer sucking back bowls full of food like some kind of typhoon.
He pauses stuffing his face as the woman, who appears to be shaking, speaks to them.
"If I don't at least ask, I'll regret it for the rest of my life!" She blurts out. "Please consider my request."