Chapter Text
"What a lovely sight," Robin muses, her hair and sleeveless shirt billowing in the wind. The breeze feels cool against her skin as she grips the Sunny's railing. No longer strained by the heavy history of Lulusia, her eyes settle on the horizon. Out at sea, the view is spectacular. A full moon—the largest she has ever seen—burns in a cloudy sky painted pink, purple, and blue. Below, the ocean mirrors the spectacle, a canvas of dancing colors.
It is a perfect moment; all she needs now is a warm cup of tea. Feeling the pull of his presence, she turns and looks up to the Crow's Nest. The glowing golden light there makes her smile. Knowing they are the only ones awake, she makes up her mind. Guess I'll go and see if he would like some as well.
High above, Zoro stands watch, weights gripped in each hand. His expression as he spots the archaeologist is unreadable—somewhere in the taut space between a scowl and a smile. She's coming up here again, isn't she? What is this—the sixth time this week? Doesn't she ever sleep?
Then, comets rain down like heavenly wrath. They strike the water like massive cannonballs. Eight-foot waves erupt upon impact. The Sunny escapes a direct hit, but the sea to its immediate left is pelted, rocking the ship violently. As the deck lurches beneath Robin's feet, her hands slip from the railing, and she is thrown overboard.
Seeing Robin swallowed by the tide, Zoro does not hesitate. He heaves the weights aside and lunges for the door, the glass nearly shattering as he throws it open. He leaps clear of the deck, her name a raw roar in his throat as he dives into the empty air and the churning seas below.
X-X
Zoro tears himself from the surf like a vengeful sea god. Water streams off his bare torso, his dark trousers clinging to his legs as he fights the drag of the undertow. He isn't just moving; he's a force of nature. In his arms, Robin is a terrifying, dead weight, her skin as pale as the foam swirling around his knees.
"Hang on," Zoro grinds out, trying to keep Robin's life from slipping through his fingers like sand. "I got you."
To the unconscious Robin, the world is a black void.
The second his boots hit more sand than water, Zoro drops. He doesn't waste a heartbeat, laying her on her side as the waves continue to lash at them. His world narrows to the curve of her neck. He presses two fingers against her cold skin, frantically searching for a pulse beneath her wet curtain of hair.
Nothing.
"Shit," he hisses, the curse swallowed by the spray and roar of the sea.
Terror, cold and sharp, pierces Zoro's chest as he drags Robin's limp weight further up the beach, away from the reaching fingers of the tide. He slams her onto her back and drops to his knees beside her. Chopper's voice echoes in his head—a steady, clear instruction from a training he never thought he'd need.
There's no time to think or doubt. Zoro tilts her head back, pinches her nose, and seals his mouth over hers. He forces air into her lungs—once, twice—feeling the sickening lack of resistance in her chest.
Zoro tears back, locking his elbows and lacing his fingers. One, two, three. He pumps, his actions desperate but measured, as he fights to revive his crewmate without crushing her ribs.
"Come on!" Zoro urges, loud and commanding. "Come on!"
Two more breaths. Another thirty presses. His heart is reverberating bass in his ears, keeping time with the compressions.
"Don't you die," he snarls, his fear twisting into a fierce, protective rage. "Breathe, dammit! Breathe!"
Suddenly, Robin's body lurches violently, a jagged convulsion that sends seawater spilling from her lips. Zoro collapses backward onto the shore, a broken sigh escaping him as his trembling hands fist sand. Relief flows over him like a warm bath, drenching him more than the sea ever could.
"Thank God," he whispers, the world around them slowly bleeding back into his narrowed focus.
If I had let her die in such a lame-ass way, after everything we've all been through...
The thought is an iron spike in Zoro's gut; he shoves it down and helps Robin roll to her side. His hand grips her shoulder—firm, steady—while he simply lets her heave, coughing up the sea and the bile that burns her throat.
Robin's limbs ache, her lungs burn with a salty sting. Her head pounds, clouding her vision—making it swim. Tea and Zoro. That was the last memory before the world flipped. Did someone shout my name?
"Hey," a voice rumbles from above, familiar and close. "You still with me?"
Robin's world slowly sharpens. She finds herself staring at a wall of familiar scarred muscle, then up into an equally scarred face that is both rugged and comforting.
Zoro.
Robin finds the swordman's green, soaked hair a chaotic mess as it sends cold droplets onto her cheek. But the sight of his uncharacteristic concern is more reviving than the air in her lungs.
It's nice to know he cares, she can't help but think.
With her brain beginning to function, she tries to brush a wet strand of hair from her eyes. However, her body isn't as spry; her arm is lead.
"Yes," Robin rasps, the word breaking into a jagged cough. She tries again, her voice a ghost of itself. "Thanks to you."
Side-stepping her gratitude as easily as a blade, Zoro turns to scan their surroundings. The full moon acts as a silver spotlight, illuminating a shoreline that resembles a fever dream. Beyond the sand, indigo-trunked palms sway under the weight of glowing pink fruits. Sunflowers with slumbering, human-like faces tilt in the breeze, their stems thin and bamboo-like. Beyond the reach of the moon, the island is a wall of impenetrable shadow.
"You injured?" Robin's voice is a hoarse rasp, her body refusing to move from the damp sand.
"Nah," Zoro dismisses the thought, his chest still heaving. "Half a gut of seawater and some scrapes. I'm fine. Just need to breathe. You should, too."
Too exhausted to argue, Robin lets the silence be her answer. She lies curled in the damp sand, her heart thudding an abused, but grateful rhythm.
Zoro rakes a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead.
"Gotta say," he admits, his voice rougher than usual, "you had me worried. For a second there... I thought you were gone."
A haggard, breathless laugh bubbles up in Robin's throat. I thought I was, too.
Zoro doesn't need to hear the words; he recognizes the look on her face.
A low, guttural growl from the dark interior of the island snaps Zoro's head up. Their position is too exposed.
"Not a good place to sit," he grunts. "Anyone could come along. Or anything."
As if summoned by their bad luck, a drizzle begins to fall. He barely feels the cool prickle on his salt-stung skin, but the dark pocks hitting the sand are impossible to miss.
"Alright. Come on," Zoro grumbles, rising to his feet. He scoops Robin up like a sack of potatoes. "Time to find shelter."
With Robin secured, Zoro's other hand flies to his side. The wet sheaths are a cold relief against his fingertips. Still here. He grips a hilt and marches into the dark, trusting his internal compass to lead them in the direction (he thinks) is north.
Robin feels the warm hand on her ass keeping her in place. She's too exhausted to care about the necessary impropriety. She simply watches the ground blurring past—sand to green scrub to slick mud. The motion, the rain, the sound of her own breathing—it all becomes a hum; a comforting static that pulls her under and delivers her to sleep.
X-X
A brutal jolt snaps Robin awake. Pain flares in her temple, hip, and side. Below her, the earth is cold and mucky. Insides still wrecked, she looks up, squinting against a harsh pour of rain. The scene is chaos: a battlefield of destroyed trees and fresh, upturned mud everywhere she looks. Her gaze locks onto Zoro.
He stands just feet away, a monolith of wet muscle and lethal intent. The black bandana is tied tight—his back a map of tensed cord and shadow. His arms are thrown wide, muscles locked, as he grips two blades slicked in obsidian Haki. The third is clamped between his teeth—a cold, black promise of violence.
A flash of lightning cracks the sky. Robin sees two huge, prehistoric-looking creatures facing her crewmate. Their bodies split halfway down into twin necks, each ending in a large, oval head with green eyes and razor-sharp teeth. Their hard, scaly bodies are covered in so much mud that it looks like they were either sleeping or hiding in the wet earth.
Clang-clang! Clang-clang!
Zoro blocks another bite, the shockwave vibrating up his arms. In the brief, brutal window between attacks, he glances back over his shoulder. The rain is a solid sheet of chaos, but he finds her—still lying exactly where he'd tossed her to save them both from having a chunk bitten out of them.
She's a wreck: half-caked in mud and completely soaked. Zoro's heart is a loud metronome in his ears and chest as he sees her face, paper-white and slack. Her eyes are unfocused, turning glassy. She's clearly disoriented and slowly fading.
Gotta get her out of this rain before she gets any worse, Zoro thinks, determined.
Turning back, he narrowly misses a bite to his shoulder. Tired and aggravated, he yells, "Come on! I don't have time to play with you bastards right now!"
Clang-clang! Clang-clang!
Zoro recognizes that these things are testing him, sizing up their kill. Then, their battle tactics change. The serpents suddenly recoil, all four heads rearing back as one. Then they move with impossible speed, two blurs of scaly mass that defy their massive size. One creature slithers left; the other lunges right. Their strategy is forcing Zoro's hand, demanding a choice: which side will he commit to, and which one will he leave exposed?
Even so, a brutal sense of relief tingles down Zoro's sternum: they are focusing on him. Robin is safe, at least for the moment.
Fortunately, Robin is conscious enough to know that "safe" is relative. She also realizes that Zoro's split attention can spell his doom.
Not today, she thinks. Even laid out and weakened, she refuses to be a liability.
"Cien Fleur," she trembles, arms locked across her chest.
Digging deep, Robin channels her power. A bouquet of limbs sprouts from the serpent behind Zoro; the conjured hands and arms twist into several loops, clamping the twin mouths shut and blinding all four of the snake's beady eyes. The creature goes berserk—a chaotic mess of scaled fury. Confused and angry, it whips blindly at air.
The serpent's panic is a short reprieve, but its inaction buys Zoro a crucial sliver of time. With a breath, the swordsman becomes a predator.
Zoro coils, his torso twisting into a lethal torsion. His thighs cord with tension until they reach the breaking point—then he erupts. He doesn't just jump; he lunges into the massive serpent like a hurricane made of steel and death.
"Tatsumaki!"
The Haki-blackened steel bites through scales and bone without resistance, shearing the serpent's body and twin heads into ribbons. Red sprays the air and ground. Before the severed skulls can even thud into the mud, Zoro has already pivoted, his weapons carving a black arc toward his final prey.
To stay attached to the beast is to invite the blade. Robin's extra limbs dissolve in a shower of petals. She is done. Yet, unable to look away, she becomes a witness—a spectator to the grim work of the reaper she calls her friend.
Lost in the thrill of the fight, Zoro's second kill is vicious; he doesn't just slice, he butchers. Blood showers the air, the warmth of the gore hitting his skin as his blades mince the serpent into an unrecognizable pulp in seconds.
Robin's eyes begin to roll. Whether it be lack of sleep, exhaustion, or something more, for her, the show is over.
With a pile of bloody pulp at his feet, Zoro sheathes his swords. Then, chest heaving yet satisfied, he turns his attention to his partner. Robin's half covered in mud, but she doesn't appear to be bleeding. Relieved, he walks over.
As Zoro nears, worry begins to eat at him. Robin hadn't stirred for the latter half of his trek through the jungle—not when he'd tripped over the waking snakes, nor when he'd sped through the trees dodging the monsters at his back. He knows she was conscious during the fight; he'd seen the sprouted limbs. He'd seen her help. So why is she out cold now?
"Stay with me," Zoro growls.
He doesn't wait for an answer, snatching Robin from the mud and swinging her upward. Her weight hits his shoulder with a dull thud; his muscles lock as he secures her for the sprint ahead.
Zoro sweeps the forest with a frantic glance, deciding on a direction—what he hopes is north. Then he plunges into the dark and the driving rain, his heart a raw weight in his chest, heavier even than the woman slung over his shoulder.
Luffy and the others will kill me if I let anything happen to you, Zoro thinks, praying he finds something—anything—they can use as shelter soon.