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For as long as he can remember - bruised knuckles, bloodied mouth, scabbed knees - he’s known that he was never built for gentleness.
“I’m strong! I’m stronger than you!”
That his body was never meant to hold more than strength and pain.
“Don’t underestimate me!”
That the only thing he’d be able to grasp on to was the rough hilt of a blade.
“Sensei! Please, give me her sword!”
The soft touches he sees - hand cupping a cheek, tears being brushed away, a gentle bump of hip against hip - would never be his to give, or to take.
He’d made his peace with that.
Then comes-
Wide eyes under a straw hat-
An artless grin, careless words-
Smooth, deceptively soft skin-
- a stupid, rubbery bastard with a dream loftier than his.
“The world’s greatest swordsman? That’s great! Since I’m going to be Pirate King, you’d have to be that at least, or it’ll make me look bad!”
It almost irritates him, how his ambition is so easily taken into the kid’s care; how much he already trusts him to keep his word - how easily the word ‘captain’ falls from his own lips.
Then, he’d realised that Luffy just had that effect on everyone.
Usopp, with his brilliant mind and quick hands, churning out creation after creation, always met with Luffy’s delighted laughter.
Sanji, the cook, who somehow never tires of handling Luffy’s constant voracious appetite, keeping the wide grin on their captain’s face.
Nami, who reads the weather with ease, eyes always searching the clouds, so Luffy could keep looking forward, towards his dream.
Chopper, who heals - each and every single one of them, even when their captain doesn’t bounce back. With tears in his eyes, and steady hands, he heals.
Robin, who never manages to be anything but elegant, a gentle smile playing on her lips even while breaking a man’s neck.
Franky, who built the ship all their dreams ride on. And kept building - so it could get stronger, stronger, strong enough for their captain.
Brook. Viciousness hidden in jokes and song, who never sounds happier as when Luffy rests an arm on his shoulders and asks him to sing.
Just like with Zoro, Luffy chooses them, and saves them.
And just like with Zoro, all they can do is look up at him, with newfound light in their eyes and say, breathlessly-
“Captain.”
Zoro has no inventions. He cannot cook, can’t navigate, and snorts at the thought of even attempting to play doctor. He can’t read poneglyphs, can’t build ships, and the extent of his musical ability is humming along to that one song Luffy tended to sing when he was bored.
What then, he’d wondered from time to time, when the last fight was days away and his swords lay hungry at his side, was his purpose?
“Please...!”
For as long as he can remember-
“Please, take my head instead!”
-he’s known that he was never built for gentleness.
“Please, be satisfied with that!”
That his body was never meant to hold more than strength and pain.
“Luffy is the man who will become the Pirate King!”
And that... that is more than enough.
“Hold on,” he hears, over shifting rocks, “You bastard.”
Zoro turns, unsurprised.
“If you die,” Sanji rasps, “What’ll happen? What happened to your ambition, moron?!”
Zoro almost explains.
Almost says, “When I gave Luffy my loyalty, I gave him my life. My ambition became his, and his became mine. If I can’t protect his dream, then what’s the point?”
But he merely clambers to his feet as Sanji spouts off some nonsense about them having to find another cook.
“Idiot,” Zoro thinks, unmoved, slamming the hilt of his blade into Sanji’s side, “As if Luffy would want anyone else.”
He steps closer to the Shichibukai, Sanji’s hand sliding off his shoulder as he hits the ground, “This is my last request.”
The silence between them would be deafening, if not for the loud rush of blood in his ears, the harsh beating of his heart in his chest.
“If I lay a hand on Strawhat after this,” the reply comes at last, “I would be humiliated.”
Breath leaves Zoro in a quiet, “My thanks,” his expression carefully unchanging.
“Rest assured, I’ll keep my promise,” he continues to say, even as a large hand grabs Luffy and lifts, “but you- I’ll show you hell.”
Zoro forces himself to remain still, teeth gritting an almost panicked mantra of hepromisedhepromisedhepromised- playing in his head over and over as the Shichibukai places his other hand before Luffy and-
Zoro swallows, hands curling into fists as a bubble pushes its way out of the battered body, bigger and bigger, and Zoro wonders if it’ll ever stop, if he’s just been tricked when it settles in the air, and the man begins, finally, to explain.
All the pain and damage Luffy’s received-
“If you want to take his place, you’ll have to take his pain.”
Zoro could laugh, with how easy this was being made for him.
“Have a taste.”
Then, even as pain rips its way through his body, burns white-hot in every vein - his mind goes blank. He thinks of the pain he has yet to take, and all he wants to say, with his blood filled grin, is, “Bring it on!”
He wakes to soft breaths against his ear, the familiar constricting bandages he would never keep on, and a strange weight on his chest.
No-
He wakes to soft murmurs in his ear.
A constant repetition of, “Hey, Zoro, are you awake? Zoro? Zoro, have you woken up? Zoro, hey, Zoro-”
“Oi.”
The murmurs stop, but Zoro has nothing else to say, nothing he can say.
And it begins again.
“Zoro, are you awake? Hey, Zoro-”
“Oi.” He says again, sharper, to hide the smile in his voice.
He hears Luffy’s quiet shishishi, “Ah, so you’re awake! You should have said so!”
He sighs, cracking open an eye to fix Luffy with a sleepy glare.
“I wasn’t.”
He has to squint for a second, Luffy’s silhouette edged with light, before he relents and blinks both eyes open.
The first thing he notices is the lack of the strawhat- which explains the weight on his chest. The second thing he notices - his breath catches in his throat.
“Shit,” he says, hand involuntarily drawn to Luffy’s face, sending shocks of pain down his arm as his thumb settles under a reddened eye, swiping roughly at the almost dry tear track, “Shit, you cry way too easily.”
“Ace said that too!” Luffy replies cheerfully, reaching for Zoro’s face in turn.
“So nothing’s changed- the hell’re you doing?”
The fingers resting against his cheek are painfully gentle, the hand that brings his own arm down to rest even more so.
“Zoro,” Luffy begins, grin softening, “Thank you.”
Zoro freezes.
“Do you-”
Luffy shakes his head, inching closer.
“I don’t know what happened, and nobody’s said anything, but I know Zoro must have saved me again, so- thank you.”
The last words are spoken in a whisper, and then - a clumsy kiss glances off his cheekbone.
Zoro stops breathing.
Luffy leans back, smile restored to its usual brightness.
“Okay?”
And it’s so much more than okay. He wants to pull Luffy back to him, see how tight he can hold him before Luffy complains, he wants to know the warmth of Luffy’s neck, the curve of Luffy’s smile against his shoulder.
But he’s not-
He turns away, and murmurs, “Okay.”
He keeps his distance, after.
Luffy doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t ask for an explanation, which is good. Because the only thing Zoro could’ve said would’ve been, “I’m no good for that,”, and that would have explained nothing.
But then-
“We’re running!”
Useless.
“The three of us need to split up!”
Useless.
“Everyone! Meet back at the Sunny in three days!”
He was useless.
He has three days to return.
He might be a little late, but-
He has to be there- he has to be.
He’ll get down on his knees and apologize, for failing to protect them, for not being enough, for anything under the sun, as long as they’re there for him to apologize to.
As long as the captain is there.
Until then, he’ll grip at the hilts of his swords and raise them, and he’ll do as he’s always done.
He fights. And fights, and fights, in the vain hope that it’ll fix something.
When Mihawk arrives, and says, “Fire Fist Ace died right before Strawhat’s eyes,” he understands that nothing can be fixed.
Strength, and pain, he notes distantly, as the last mandrill wanders away.
His strength has left him, and he can hold no more pain. So then, what now?
“Oi!” The grating voice of the ghost girl echoes, and he flinches, “Your captain’s in the paper!”
“What?!”
“Aren’t you done yet?! My arms are getting tired!”
“Wait- just a minute- Luffy wouldn’t do something like this,” he rasps, even as his throat tightens at the bandages winding their way around his captain’s body, “Rayleigh’s with him - he must’ve put him up to this. There has to be something.”
There has to be something, he repeats to himself stubbornly, as his eyes drift traitorously to Luffy’s face, searching for a sign - any sign of the grief none of them could be there to share.
He finds it in the stooped shoulders, in the tired frown, in the grip, just slightly too loose on the straw hat.
And Zoro-
His own hands can barely tighten around the hilts of his swords. His legs won’t hold his weight any longer. In this moment, right here, he is dulled, rusted. So, for now-
For now.
For now, please just let me hold him.
Two years pass, memories pressed together in a blur of colour, sharpening only when he hears distant booms.
“Anyway,” he straightens, turning, drawn to the noise the way a log pose needle pulls towards an island, “What’s that ruckus over there?”
It’s a backpack he sees first, a straw hat following soon after, and his throat closes up.
Red shirt, hands clutching at a bag strap, a scar-
“OI!” He calls out, eyes catching on Luffy’s familiar grin, “Luffy!”
“Ahhhh! Zoro, Sanji! This time it really is you! You guys! It’s been forever!”
“What do you mean, this time it’s really us?!” He wants to yell back, but something slams right before him, cutting off his path.
“Tch,” he says instead, drawing his swords.
“Move it!”
“I’m gonna become the Pirate King!”
Zoro grins, a wild fondness surging up within him, finally hearing the words he’s been waiting two years for.
“Everyone! There are so many things I want to tell all of you, but for now, let’s just leave it at this. Thanks for going along with my selfish decision all these years!”
Fond smiles and chuckles are the response.
Yeah, they seem to say, as if we’d do anything else.
Luffy grins in return, then breathes in deep, arms flung out wide.
Everyone straightens, anticipation almost electric.
“SET SAIL!”
Their cheers fill the air, the thrill of adventure once again coursing through their veins.
“Fishman Island, here we come!”
“Luffy.”
He’d be lying if he’d said this wasn’t the moment he had been waiting for.
For the few moments of comfortable silence, of revelling in everyone’s closeness.
He’s selfish enough to take that away from everyone, just for awhile.
“Hm? What is it, Zoro?”
He’s never been good with words, and likely never will be, so he jerks his head in the direction of the cabin, and turns, hoping Luffy will follow.
He does.
“Zoro, hey, what is it? Zoro?” But not quietly, never quietly.
He waits for Luffy to enter the cabin, and closes the door softly behind them.
And finally, finally he gets his arms around his idiot captain. Buries his nose in the crook of Luffy’s neck, a hand clutching at the coarse, red shirt, the other tangling itself in soft dark hair.
He says nothing. No I’ve missed you, no are you really okay?, no I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-
None of that mattered anymore. Now that Luffy is here, and Zoro is here with him.
Zoro closes his eyes as hands slide up his back and into his hair, massaging at his scalp lightly. Luffy laughs quietly, his trademark shishishi echoing in the room.
“Zoro’s really grown up, huh?”
“...shut up.”