Chapter Text
The wind howled through the frozen forest, throwing curtains of snow against the lone man who forced his way forward. Every step sank deep into the thick blanket beneath his boots, leaving uneven footprints that were quickly swallowed by the blizzard. The cold clawed through every layer he wore, yet he never slowed.
Roronoa Zoro wasn't the type to stop because of something as pathetic as the weather.
A dark hooded cloak rested over his broad shoulders, its edges whipping violently behind him. Beneath it, layers of black tactical clothing hugged his muscular frame, worn and torn from months of surviving a world that had forgotten peace.
Three swords rested against his left hip, their familiar weight grounding him with every step. Wado Ichimonji, Sandai Kitetsu, and Enma.
The only things he trusted more than himself.
Strapped tightly to both thighs were several combat knives, their handles just visible beneath the fabric. A pistol rested against his right hip, another tucked into the small of his back, while spare magazines lined his belt. Guns weren't his first choice - not even close - but in this world, refusing to use one was just another way to die.
His backpack looked heavy enough to break an ordinary man's spine.
Inside were ration packs that were running dangerously low, bottled water, ammunition, spare clothes, rope, a flashlight, batteries, a lighter, a folded map he refused to look at, a mobile phone that doesn't seem to work (he lost his only transponder snail) and a small first aid kit Chopper had insisted every member of the crew carry.
He still hadn't opened it.
If he got injured, he'd deal with it himself.
A man should be able to handle his own pain.
His grey eyes scanned the endless sea of white, sharp despite the exhaustion weighing on them. Dark circles rested beneath them, proof of countless sleepless nights. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept without keeping one hand wrapped around the hilt of a sword.
He needed shelter.
Not because of the cold.
Because once night fell...
...they came.
The infected wandered aimlessly during the day, but darkness changed them. They became faster. More aggressive. Their cries echoed through the forests until dawn, hunting anything still breathing.
He wasn't eager to become tonight's meal.
The snow crunched beneath his boots.
His eyes narrowed.
That tree...
He slowed to a stop.
The crooked pine with the broken branch.
He could've sworn he'd walked past it already.
Five minutes ago.
...
No.
That wasn't right.
The forest had to be playing tricks on him.
Or maybe the roads were moving.
Like those stupid staircases from Harry Potter.
Yeah.
That made more sense. Because he definitely wasn't
Lost.
The very thought offended him.
He wasn't lost.
He simply hadn't reached where he was going yet.
There was a difference.
Three months.
That's how long it had been since the world fell apart. Back then, life had been almost normal.
Luffy had dropped out of university despite Garp nearly having a heart attack over it, determined to become a firefighter instead.
Nami had been studying geography ;something about maps, climates, and the world that Zoro never really understood. A map was a map. Every road looked the damn same.
Curlybrow was...
Actually, no.
Thinking about him was irritating enough.
Zoro himself had been halfway through a mathematics degree while spending every spare hour training at his dojo.
They all had their own lives.
Then the news started talking about a strange virus. Cities went into lockdown.
Hospitals overflowed.
People died.
And then... They got back up.
The world ended faster than anyone could've imagined. Now every day was a fight to survive.
A sharp crunch echoed somewhere ahead. Zoro's body reacted before his mind did. One hand settled around the hilt of Wado Ichimonji. The other drifted to the pistol strapped against his hip.
A figure slowly emerged through the snowfall. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Far too calm. A long nodachi rested casually across one shoulder as though it weighed nothing. His black coat barely moved despite the wind, and a white, fur-lined hat sat atop messy dark hair dusted with snow. Black tattoos spread across the backs of his hands before disappearing beneath his sleeves.
Golden eyes met grey.
Neither man looked away.
For several silent seconds, only the wind spoke. Then the stranger tilted his head.
"Green."
Zoro blinked.
"...What?"
"Your hair."
"...What about it?"
"It's green."
An irritated vein pulsed on Zoro's forehead.
"So?"
"The world's ending," he muttered, "and my hair's what caught your attention?"
To his annoyance, the stranger looked genuinely amused. A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"It suits you."
That wasn't the response Zoro had expected.
"I've also been watching you for the last five minutes."
"...Why?"
"You've walked past that tree three times."
Silence.
A faint pink blush crept across Zoro's face.
"I wasn't LOST."
"No? Well, I wasn't saying you were"
"SHUT UP..I was looking for shelter. That's all"
"I see."
The stranger took a few slow steps forward, stopping just outside sword range.
"Well, then you're in luck."
He gestured toward the forest behind him.
"I found a small inn not far from here."
Another pause.
"You can come with me."
Golden eyes studied him for another second before the man finally spoke again.
"...I'm Law.,"