Chapter Text
There are a lot of things that have been hard to get used to as a “normal person.” There were tons of unspoken rules to learn, decisions to make, and more emotional processing than you could shake a stick at. Thankfully, you’ve been able to take more or less in stride with the help of your newfound crew.
The Straw Hats have been the picture of patience as you adjust to your newfound freedom. There are no stupid questions (Luffy sets a really low bar), and everyone respects your decision when you say, “No.” Has it been easy? Absolutely not, but you haven’t had to do it alone, and that in itself is a blessing.
But there’s one thing you still struggle with — crowds. Who knew there were so many people in the world? So many bodies, each going about their own business with their own hopes and fears. And they were so loud! Dozens of conversations going at once, each one oblivious to the others. How did people function like this on a normal basis?
So far, you’ve managed by either volunteering to watch the ship or partnering up with someone to run errands. It’s a lot less overwhelming when you can just follow the lead of someone else. If Nami wants a shopping buddy or Sanji needs an extra pair of hands to carry supplies, you’re the first to volunteer. You know, one day, you’ll have to venture out on your own. It’s an inevitability, but just thinking about it makes your stomach turn.
So when the Going Merry docks at the next town, you are already making your game plan. Usopp needs to stay behind to make repairs to the ship. Nami is being stingier than usual with funds, so shopping was not a likely option — best to go with Sanji then, there was always a need for food.
You gather on the deck to divide the day’s errands, but the cook isn’t in sight. A slight panic grips you. You could tag along with Nami anyway, but you worry you might come off as clingy. Luffy is an option, but also a wildcard. Who knows what situation you could find yourself in. Then there was the swordsman, Zoro.
You haven’t spent much time with the green-haired first mate outside of a few fights and narrow escapes. He mostly keeps to himself, either training, sleeping, or drinking. He isn’t a likely option, either.
“Hey Nami, where’s Sanji?” you ask.
“Luffy managed to break into the pantry on another one of his midnight snack raids. Sanji is still assessing the damage,” she explains before handing you a small bag.
“What’s this for?” you ask.
“It’s your first cut,” the navigator says with a grin. “Go get yourself something nice, you’ve earned it!”
You weigh the bag in your hands, listening to the clinking of coins. You’re pretty sure this is the first time you’ve ever had money of your own. Before you can even say thank you, someone snatches the bag from your hands/
“Zoro, what the Hell!? I already gave you yours, asshole!” Nami fumes, but the swordsman is already walking off the boat.
“This should keep me busy at the bar for a few hours,” he says, casually tossing it in the air. “You want it back? Then come and find me. Maybe I’ll even buy you something with whatever’s left over.”
He gives you a mocking grin before disappearing into the dock’s crowd.
Nami begins cursing up a storm in between, giving you apologies, but you don’t hear her.
That money was yours. Yours. As a slave, your list of personal possessions had been nonexistent. Even the small collection of belongings you’d acquired since joining the Straw Hats was largely made of hand-me-downs. That small bag of Berry was the first thing in a long time that truly belonged to you — and you were getting it back.
“Arrogant bastard,” you hiss under your breath before squaring your shoulders and marching into the crowd below.
You’re swept up in the chaos almost immediately. People pass by in every direction. Some expertly dodge around you, while others barrel right past you without a second glance. Vendors shout at the top of their lungs, shoving their wares in your face with pleas to buy. It’s impossible to see more than three feet in front of you. Still, you crane your neck, weaving through the masses as best you can, searching for that tell-tale shock of green.
You’re so focused on looking for Zoro, that you don’t notice the large burly man stopped just ahead of you and walk straight into him.
“Watch where you’re going!” he snarls, standing a good foot taller than you.
“I’m s-sorry!” you stammer, immediately folding into a low bow as years of servitude and obedience take over.
The man gives a wordless grunt, conveying that you’re not worth his time, before continuing on his way.
You struggle to breathe. The world feels like it’s closing in on you, and you start to get dizzy. There are so many people, and they’re all so close. You manage to make your way to a nearby storefront and practically collapse against the wall, pressing your back firmly against the solid stone. One less blind spot to worry about. From there, you close your eyes and take a few long, deep breaths — just like Nami taught you.
“You’re free,” you murmur as you inhale.
“You're safe.”
Exhale.
“You’re free, you’re safe. You’re free, you’re safe.”
You repeat the words over and over, trying to keep the beasts of your past from swallowing you whole.
“Excuse me, are you alright, Miss?”
A touch on the shoulder startles you from your thoughts. You immediately pull away on instinct. A middle-aged woman with two kids in tow gives you a worried look.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologizes, holding up her hands. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine,” you say softly, refusing to meet her gaze.
“Hey,” she calls out, as a gentle, but firm, hand lifts your chin to look at her. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Is someone after you?”
“Moooom,” one of the children groans. “I’m hungry. Can we please go?”
The woman shushes them and keeps her eyes focused on you. There’s something familiar in them, a worn, hardness, the look of someone who’s suffered at the hands of others.
You take a steadying breath. “I’m not in trouble, just lost. And…not used to busy places.”
She clearly knows you hiding something, but doesn’t press you. Instead, she gives you a kind smile.
“I’m from a tiny village in South Blue,” she tells you. “Remote doesn’t even begin to describe it. When I finally got out and saw my first real town, I swear I sprained something in my neck just trying to take it all in. It was…overwhelming. I had no idea the world was so big and it made me feel so small.” She gives your shoulder a light squeeze. “I guess this is my long way of saying, you get used to it — with time. Whatever you’ve been through, this is nothing.”
You’re shocked by her words of kindness. She doesn’t even know you. Why is she being so nice? Better yet, how can she believe in you so easily?
“If you need a break,” she continues, “there’s a nice cafe just down that second alley on the left. The food is delicious and there’s a lot less traffic. Tell them Riya sent you.”
Turning to her kids she says, “Alright, my loves. Let’s get home to Papa!”
“Um, wait—” you call out as she turns to leave. “Can you tell me…where the bar is?”
It turns out there are several bars in the town, but the closest one is directly across the square from the docks.
“If you’ve just arrived, that’s most likely where your shipmate will be.”
Unfortunately, she doesn’t know Zoro.
When you arrive at the bar there’s not a green head in sight.
“Of course,” you mutter to yourself as you turn to leave.
You make your way through the next three watering holes to no avail. Knowing the swordsman, he probably lost his way on to another island by now. It’s been a few hours. You’re tired, hungry and your feet hurt. You remember the little cafe the woman mentioned earlier and decide to check it out.
She wasn’t wrong when she said it was less crowded. There’s hardly anyone walking along the quiet lane, which is dotted with a number of small garden plots. About halfway down the road, you see a wooden sign hanging above a door, with a few small tables and chairs scattered out front. And sitting in one of those chairs, asleep, is Zoro.
So many swears come to mind at once that you’re at a loss to say any of them. You decide to apply your rage physically instead. Walking up to the swordsman with murder in your heart, you knock his chair out from under him with a well-placed kick.
“What the fuck was that for!?” he snaps at you, rubbing the back of his head.
Wordlessly, you stick out your hand.
“Give. It. Back,” you demand.
He doesn’t bother to play dumb. Thank God or else you’d have to face Luffy for unaliving the first mate. Reaching into his haramaki he pulls out the small bag and places it in your hand.
“Here. I didn’t even spend it.”
“That’s because you couldn’t walk the straight line from the docks to the bar!”
He gives you a small smirk.
“So, you made it, then?” he asks, standing up and brushing the dust from his pants.
“I went to four different bars looking for your stupid, thieving ass before I gave up and came here!” you shout, feeling your face heat up as the anger rides through you. “And the only reason I even ran into you is because I almost had a fucking panic attack in the town square and a kind stranger talked me down and told me about this place. So yeah — I made it — no thanks to you.”
You can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and roughly wipe them away with the back of your hand. You refuse to cry in front of him.
Zoro looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place. A moment of tense silence passes before you crack first.
“What?”
He quickly looks away from you, scratching the back of his head. He winces when he hits the spot where his head met the ground.
“...I’m sorry,” he says. It’s so quiet you think you’ve misheard him.
“Say that again?”
“I’m sorry!” he repeats, loud enough for the whole street to hear.
He rubs at the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “You always stay with the ship or latch on to someone when we dock. I thought, with the right incentive, you’d finally venture out on your own.”
You’d hoped you’d been slightly less obvious than that, but if Zoro was able to catch on then maybe everyone was just being too polite to say anything.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you tell him.
“I know,” he replies. “It’s just…I’ve watched you take down entire squads of Marines without batting an eye, but a crowd of civilians is what terrifies you?”
“It’s not that simple!”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re going through. But I do know this — you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. To go through what you did and still come out seeing good in the world?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought if someone else showed they believed in you, you’d see it, too.”
You stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Did he just go out of his way to indirectly compliment you? Had he been trying to do something nice?
And despite the spectacular failure, you somehow find it oddly endearing.
“You…really suck at helping,” you manage to say, after several failed attempts. “But…thanks. Sort of.”
“I’ll…still buy you something, if you want. You can use my sake money, too.”
“I don’t want it,” you say, a bit more forcefully than you meant to.
“I’ll…see you on the ship then,” he says, turning to leave.
“Wait.”
He stops mid-stride.
“You’re just going to get lost again, so just…grab something to eat with me, okay?”
“Sure.”