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They were old, a dull afterglow of what they once had been, almost thirty years ago. The adrenaline that had saved their lives countless times had faded away, along with the color in their hair and the fluidity of their joints.
They'd somehow kept in touch with the rest of the crew over the years, writing letters and occasional visits every few years, but more often than not it was just them. Together, alone, in their equally tiny home of a village.
Zoro was satisfied with his life, could lean back against the window and smile. He couldn't traverse the world anymore, and his bones were too tired to chase down children. He'd gone through too many jobs to count over the years, but being the first mate of a legendary pirate crew, and a legend on his own was enough for him. (Just barely good enough for you, Robin would say sometimes, the quiet mirth in her eyes sparkling. He'd laugh some days, booming and soaked with alcohol and good food. Other days he'd scoff and remind her that being the notorious demon child and also a world renowned archaeologist was almost not quite enough for her.)
Robin wasn't at home anymore, her eyes would no longer open and her smile couldn't appear at his side again. It'd taken almost two years until he was truly okay with it.
She'd been the first to go.
It was funny to think he'd be second.
--
The bounty-hunter-turned-pirate-turned-dojo-master eases his way out of modest little place he's come to refer to as home. (It had taken time, he'd been so used to the feeling of being on the go and constantly having the sea rock underneath his feet. It was strange, to be grounded, to be rooted. Robin had a slightly easier time adjusting, the moment she'd immersed herself in the old library of their new village, sometimes disappearing for days at a time. But in the end, they would walk to the beach more often than either would like to admit, and they'd quietly cling to each other and breathe in the sense of something familiar and salty.)
He ambles down the cobblestone path, snorting to himself at how ridiculously predictable his life had become. (It was a common occurrence, ever since he was born and old enough to understand the things that ran the world, like hypocrisy and laughter.)
--
Nami had been the one to suggest the idea of a cobblestone walkway, leading to the grassy meadow behind their new house. She'd yelled and kicked and telephoned all the people they'd met over the years. Zoro and Robin weren't allowed to look behind their own house for some short amount of time that had felt like an eternity. But their old navigator (though she'd hardly been old at that time, they were all growing so much older faster than they'd ever expected) had also somehow wrangled the entire crew and squished them into their modest house. Luffy bonded with the whole population of the surrounding village within a day and had explored the island by the next. Zoro found himself playing the reasonable first mate once more, chasing down his captain and scolding the pirate king. Sanji fed anyone who happened to wander within his vision, and Robin gleefully spent days with Chopper and Franky and Usopp and Brook, exchanging information and tales of all sorts. By the end of the two months (maybe more, maybe less), Nami dragged everyone out to the back of the house, excluding Zoro and Robin. They were left inside the room just adjacent to the door leading outside and Sanji was stuck as their bodyguard.
"What a shitty bodyguard you'd make," Zoro had scoffed, crossing his arms. It was an age-old insult, and any heat behind it had vanished after years of fighting together.
Sanji had snorted right back, blowing out a thin stream of delicate gray smoke. "Better me than you, asshole. Stop trying to look outside!"
"Saaaaaaanji!! Bring them outside!" Nami's voice cut through the air, her tone just as bossy as it had been the day they'd met.
Zoro would never tell her, not by choice and certainly not now, since he was out of time, but he liked it. Robin's eyes had lit up when Nami finally led them outside of the house, her arms proudly gesturing to a thin path of stones with names and messages scrawled on top. And, by law of transition, Zoro came to love what Robin loved. Each name was a different person they'd met along the way, from Princess Shirahoshi (he barely remembered who she was) to Vivi's bodyguard that Robin had strangled so many years ago, to Crocodile, to Sabo. Close and distant allies, people held dearly to their hearts and people they could barely recall. Each had scribbled their name upon a clay stone and sent it to Nami, who'd placed it all together.
--
Zoro steps forward, his legs wobbling more than he wants to think about. The tip of his sandals brushes the faded name of Hachi.
--
The fishman and his wife would occasionally write joyous letters to Zoro and Robin, along with crates of preserved food. Zoro never wrote back, but he assumed Robin did, because it was something she would do.
He wondered how she felt, always reading the stories about Hachi's children and none to share of her own.
He wondered why he'd never asked.
--
Zoro reaches the lone vase in the center of the field. Today it is a light orange, with delicate swirls of blues and purples drifting over the surface. Pink tulips poke out from the neck of the ceramic piece. Yesterday it had been blue, spotted with green and pink and yellow flecks, melting together into a pastel sky. The day before that, he'd set out a bright red jar, decorated with archaic symbols in a deep navy blue. He knew it reminded her of their captain.
--
They didn't speak much, which the rest of their crew found odd. But he'd known she loved the jar from the way she was holding it and looking at it. Her eyes had been crinkled at the corners in silent laughter, and the smile splayed across her lips was the same she wore when glancing at their monkey of a captain.
So he had bought it when she wasn't looking, hid it in his stash of clothes and books and weapons. He gave it to her on a day he guessed was an anniversary of some sort, and she'd peppered his face with soft kisses.
They never found a reason to utter those three words that everyone else found so important.
They never needed to.
--
"Hi," Zoro whispers as he carefully lowers himself to the ground in front of her. He smiles as he turns a large stone in his hands, engraved with sloppy slashes.
"It's been..." he sighs, wishing he had the energy to drag a hand down his face. These days, more often than not, his limbs refuse to cooperate with his mind. He hates it. "It's been a long, long day."
(She doesn't answer. She never does.)
--
The day of the ceremony, he'd stood by her side while the rest of the village sobbed in various states of black. Visitors of dubious moralities had come from afar as well, equally in mourning.
He'd stood there in his nice black suit that he hated so much, and wondered what she would have said.
One of the children said it before he could do much more than get lost in his own memories. "Miss Robin wouldn't want us to cry like this," the little boy had said with snot running down his face. He rubbed away his tears and pasted on a beaming smile that was eerily reminiscent of too many broken grins Zoro had seen before. "Remember she told us to only cry when we're happy?"
"That's right! Miss Robin always smiled!"
And so Zoro had watched in awe as the tiny room of salty tears shifted into a house full of laughter and nostalgia, with the tears on the side.
She would've loved this, he had thought to himself.
She never cried without at least trying to smile, and every time he had to watch, it broke his heart even more. He knew she'd picked up that one belief from living through her horrendous childhood and having Luffy as a captain. Laughter is an important coping method, she explained to him one time. He had only scowled.
As much as Zoro wished he could have followed her wishes, the night after everyone left, he went inside and sobbed.
They'd both seen people die too many times to count, but this was different.
He had woken up the next morning, baffled at her disappearance until he remembered.
And so the ex-pirate threw himself into his training, over-exerting his old body more times than he could count. It is probably the reason why he is sitting in front of her today, ready to join her.
--
"I miss you," he says softly. He twists around slowly, removing his swords from his haramaki. He lays his prized possessions in front of her, ripping up handfuls of flowers and tossing them on top.
"Nami has another granddaughter now, as of yesterday. Brook still hasn't come back, but then...it's probably hard on him. Laboon passed last week, and the idiot chef's condition isn't looking too much better. It's what he gets for smoking so much."
The ex-pirate sets the stone down beside the vase. Zoro sighs. Sanji probably isn't going to last much longer than him.
"Isn't it funny how we fought so hard to live, and yet now we're dropping like flies?"
He sits in silence for some time, listening to the world around him. She used to make him to it before on a fairly often basis, whenever she caught him overworking himself. After she left, he started doing it as a way to cling to her.
Just a little more, just a little longer. Just one more time. I want to see you again.
He brushes away stray blades of grass and tucks a thick creamy white envelope underneath Robin's vase.
"I love you," Zoro says, and he swears he can feel her smiling as he closes his eyes.