Chapter Text
Zoro bolted toward the battlefield where Luffy clashed with Kaido, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His legs felt like lead, each step a battle of its own as blood trickled down from the gashes left by his fight with King. The air around him crackled with distant clashes of Haki and the earth trembled beneath his feet. Every second counted, but his injuries slowed him down, his vision blurring with exhaustion. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body to move faster, the roar of Kaido’s attacks growing louder and closer. Zoro knew he couldn’t afford to stop — Luffy needed him, and he wasn’t about to let his captain face the Emperor alone.
As Zoro neared the battlefield, his sharp eyes quickly assessed the scene — but something was wrong. Kaido stood motionless, towering over the battlefield, his presence unnervingly still. But Luffy… Luffy was nowhere to be seen. A cold knot of dread coiled in Zoro’s chest as he rushed closer. Then he saw it — Luffy’s body, lying there, unmoving. His breath caught a sharp pain tightening in his throat. And then the sound of his scream ripped through the air before he even realized it was him.
Suddenly, everything went black. A flood of memories and strange images from a world that wasn’t his own invaded his mind, overwhelming him. Every instinct screamed DANGER, but his body refused to respond. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel, see, or hear anything. Panic surged through him, and then — thud. The ground met him hard, followed by the cold sensation of grass and dirt beneath his fingertips. A blinding headache pounded in his skull as he struggled to push himself up, the world still spinning.
He could barely keep himself upright, his legs shaky and unsteady. A relentless ringing echoed in his ears, drowning out everything else. With effort, Zoro blinked a few times, trying to clear his blurred vision. His surroundings were a mess of indistinct shapes and shadows, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t Wano. Panic gripped his chest as he looked around again, heart hammering. No sign of Luffy
Zoro forced his legs to move, each step slow and unsteady at first, but gradually picking up pace. He needed a plan. He always had a plan, right? Figure out what you know, he told himself. What do I know? His thoughts stumbled over themselves, his mind an unruly tangle. A sudden, sharp pain shot through his skull, bringing him to a halt as he clutched his head. Those strange memories—ones that didn’t belong to him—surged back into focus. Heroes? Villains? Quirks? His heart raced as the unfamiliar words rattled around in his brain, making no sense at all. What was happening? Where did these images come from? And who were these people in his mind?
He bit back the frustration bubbling up in his chest, eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings again, trying to shake off the fog clouding his thoughts. But nothing around him looked right, and the ringing in his ears still hadn’t faded. All of this was wrong. Too wrong. He could feel his pulse thundering in his temples as the confusion wrapped tighter around him. What the hell is going on?!
Then, a voice cut through the haze.
“Young man?”
Zoro blinked and turned, his instincts kicking in as his hand shot toward his swords, but instead, he grasped at empty air. Where are my swords?! Panic surged through him, and he felt a rush of vulnerability without his trusted weapons. He could barely focus on the stranger standing before him.
“Are you okay?” the man asked, his voice low and steady. Zoro’s eyes quickly assessed him: black, messy hair framed a face that seemed worn but watchful, and an odd gray scarf hung loosely around his neck, contrasting sharply with his nearly all-black outfit. There was an aura of quiet authority about him, yet Zoro couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being judged.
“Where am I?” Zoro demanded, his voice low but edged with urgency. “And who are you?”
The man appeared slightly taken aback by Zoro’s demand but quickly regained his composure.
“You’re currently in Musutafu,” he said calmly.
Musutafu? Zoro’s mind raced. What island was that? Where was he? This place definitely wasn’t Wano. He continued to stare at the man, a sense of uncertainty creeping in as he contemplated his next move. What could he do? His muscles felt weak, and without his swords, he was painfully aware of his vulnerability.
“I answered your question,” the man continued, his tone shifting to something more serious, sharper, and a bit demanding. “Now you answer mine.”
Zoro narrowed his eyes, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Why should I? You found me out cold on the ground. I don’t even know who you are.”
The man crossed his arms, his gray scarf swaying slightly. “I’m Aizawa. A teacher at U.A. High School. You’re in a dangerous place right now, and I need to know if you’re a threat.”
Zoro’s grip tightened as he clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to lash out. “A threat? I can barely stand. Do I look like a threat to you?” He glanced down at his Wano outfit, torn and stained, with wounds still fresh. The embarrassment of being in such a vulnerable state gnawed at him.
Aizawa’s gaze remained steady, not flinching at Zoro’s outburst. “I’ve seen plenty of people who look worse than you and still manage to cause trouble. I need to know how you got here and why you’re alone.”
Zoro hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “I don’t know,” he said finally, frustration creeping into his voice. “One moment, I was fighting, and then… I woke up here.”
-Aizawa POV
Fighting? Why was this boy fighting? Aizawa’s gaze narrowed as he took in Zoro’s appearance. The kid’s outfit resembled a traditional Japanese kimono, but it was torn and bloodied, a testament to some brutal encounter. Cuts and gashes marred his skin, each injury telling a story of violence and struggle. Just what kind of fight had he gotten into?
Aizawa felt a flicker of concern mixed with caution. The boy stood defensively, hands clenched at his sides as if he were ready to spring into action at any moment. There was a palpable tension radiating from him, almost as if he were trying to hide something—an instinctive desire to protect himself or perhaps a secret that he was unwilling to share.
Could he be involved in a gang? Aizawa dismissed the thought quickly, not wanting to jump to conclusions, but the boy’s presence felt off. The signs were all there: the scars, the posture, the intensity in his eyes. He had clearly seen trouble, and whatever had happened before his arrival in Musutafu could pose a threat.
Yet, despite the boy’s rough exterior, Aizawa sensed something deeper beneath the surface—an inner turmoil that hinted at a more complicated backstory. Whatever the truth was, Aizawa needed to keep a close eye on him. The last thing he wanted was for this kid to draw attention to himself during the lead-up to the entrance exams.
Aizawa decided the best course of action was to take this boy with him; it would be easier to monitor him in his residence. He was sure Hizashi wouldn’t mind the unexpected guest. But there was no way this kid was coming along willingly, and Aizawa knew that could lead to complications. Well, only one option left.
“Sorry in advance,” he muttered, steeling himself for what he was about to do. With a swift, practiced motion, he deployed his scarf, wrapping it around Zoro’s form with precision. Before the boy could react, Aizawa yanked it taut, pulling him down to the ground just hard enough to knock him out.
As Zoro hit the ground, Aizawa felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. There were too many unknowns, and he needed to ensure the safety of everyone involved. He took one last look at the unconscious figure before turning to head back toward U.A., the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders