Chapter Text
“Have you heard? Our days are getting shorter…”
Half-whispered mutterings amongst the village folk catch the wind and find its way to a certain swordsman’s ear, leading him to pry open a lazy eye. Those geezers are always worrying about something, and more often than not it ends up nothing more than mass conspiracy.
What are they on about this time?
“Are you positive?” One woman asks, a voice he recognizes to be the local tailor. Her voice comes softly, hesitating, as if she’s afraid to speak these rumors into existence. “Is it not a misunderstanding, or a change in the seasons?”
“I’m afraid not. It is too soon for autumn, and yet we’ve lost nearly an hour of sunlight over the past month.” The other woman relays. The serious nature of her tone unsettles him a little, like a warning for disaster.
Then again, his village was also sure their infestation of grasshoppers was a bad omen for harvest season, only for them to end up with the most plentiful bounty they’ve collected in years. They accredited this to the gods as being a reward for all their prayer, but when their farmers put in twice as much effort to keep their crops healthy, it’s no surprise the plot would thrive.
“Do you think…” The same woman speaks suddenly. She pauses for a good while, like she’s unsure how much she can say. He pulls his eye shut once more as the beginnings of a frown tug at his lips.
“Do you think we’ve angered the Sun God?”
“There it is.” Zoro groans under his breath.
Every time without fail.
The swordsman stretches his limbs out from where he was napping on the ground, relishing in the way his muscles ache faintly. The ache is good, it means his skills are improving. His swords knock together at his hip as he moves to sit up, brushing against the coarse fabric of his robes, an ever-present reminder of where he’s been and where he’s going.
Zoro cranes his neck to peer at the sun. It’s currently hidden behind a rather large cloud directly above their settlement, but nothing seems out of place. The searing heat of early summer seeps into his skin like a too-thick blanket, slowly stinging his reddening cheeks in a way that only amplifies his increasingly sour mood.
Quite frankly, he’s sick and tired of all their moronic religious droning. Anytime something goes wrong in this town, it’s always “the gods are angry” or “it must be a curse”. The townsfolk refuse to use their heads in times of crisis. They run straight to the church at the first sign of trouble, and spend hours on their knees holding shoddy figures and offerings that could’ve fed their families that night.
“We must consult the church. Come!” The tailor woman cries with a hushed whisper. The two women proceed to run off like the world might end tomorrow if they can’t get to the church fast enough.
Zoro hunches over his legs and raises a weary palm to his forehead, bringing mild relief from the heat beating down against his skin. If anything’s strange, it’s how harsh this summer is shaping up to be. If the sun really was alive in the form of some god, he’d have to have a real shitty personality to nearly give everyone heat stroke like this.
He’d be one ungrateful bastard.
He lifts himself off the ground, dusting off his garbs and rubbing the lingering exhaustion from his eyes. If he gets back soon enough, he’ll have time for one more training session before he’s supposed to help old man Boodle till the fields.
It’s not that he isn’t happy to help where he needs to, but his days are lacking in any sort of direction. To Zoro, it’s all nothing more than mindless busywork to fill the hours between his training. Not like there’s anything else to do around here.
As he walks, his thoughts begin to drift back to religion. It’s not a topic he finds himself thinking about very often considering his distaste for it.
For all the gods this village worships, the sun god has always been the most beloved. He’s got a few different titles, something about liberation or laughter. The god’s actual name is escaping him, but he’s sure he’ll hear it as soon as he steps foot into town, what with how concerned they seem to be about the sun.
They hold entire festivals for this guy. Blazing fires that fill the night with so much light it might as well be day. Large quantities of meat from every kind of animal are sold, the only similarity being a comically large bone through the center. Stories, games, costumes, all geared towards making the public laugh.
Then there’s the drums.
No matter where you are, once the thunderous pounding of taiko drums begins to permeate the air, everyone freezes. People grin one by one, baring their teeth, wild and somewhat manic, laughing at their neighbors expression.
Strange rhythmic dancing spreads amongst the people like wildfire once someone starts, and they all move in unison to the increasingly erratic beat. One foot, then the other, swinging your arms as you hop in aimless circles around the bonfire.
Despite not understanding the symbolism behind it all, Zoro always finds himself grinning right alongside the crowd. It’s freeing in a way, to let go of all your worries for one night and give in to laughter. It’s the only time this sleepy village of his truly feels alive.
When he finally makes it into town, things are quiet. Too quiet, even by their standards. It’s a complete ghost town aside from a few small children playing along the side of the dirt road. If he squints, maybe he’ll see a tumbleweed traversing the town in the distance.
Nevertheless, something isn’t right.
He places a steady hand on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, the familiar action soothing his spirits. If there’s a threat, he’ll handle it, but hopefully it won’t come to that. Zoro takes careful steps, gaze darting between various buildings in an attempt to find someone who’ll tell him what’s up.
“Big bro!”
“Finally..” He murmurs. He won’t say this to their faces, but the weight on his shoulders lessens the moment he hears their voices.
Zoro turns on his heel to find Jonny and Yosaku running straight for him, waving their hands in the air like excited school children. Judging by their expressions there’s no immediate danger, but they don’t exactly seem thrilled.
“Hey,” Zoro begins, taking a second to let them breathe. Did they run here? That’s not a good sign.
“Care to tell me where everyone went?”
“Big bro Zoro!” Jonny basically shouts in his ear, earning a wince from the swordsman.
“Sorry.” Jonny half-whispers.
“Whatever, just tell me what happened already!”
“At the church, they’re all freakin’ out!” Yosaku jumps in, grabbing Zoro’s shoulders. He raises an eyebrow at that, because that’s pretty damn vague. He has an idea of why though.
“Is this because of the days getting shorter or whatever? You know how they get.” Zoro asks, exasperation clear in his tone. Jonny and Yosaku share a brief look, and eventually Jonny grabs Yosaku’s shoulder and steps forward again.
“That too, but— but there’s some guy who just showed up outta nowhere!” He explains with a variety of animated hand gestures. Yosaku crosses his arms and nods aggressively beside him.
“There’s ‘some guy’?” Zoro questions, running a calloused hand through his wispy green hair. He thinks off-handedly that he’s due for a haircut soon. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll hafta see for yourself.” Jonny answers cryptically. Zoro just sighs. Something tells him this is going to be more trouble than it’s worth.
With that, the three of them hastily make off for the church. The closer they get, the more townspeople they pass, huddled in groups and whispering amongst themselves. As they approach the building, it becomes clear that basically the entire town is trying—and failing—to fit inside, crowding around something that the three of them can’t see from where they’re standing.
“Don’t fret, big bro Zoro!” Jonny assures.
“We’ll get you through!” Yosaku adds.
They both press a thumb to their chests and smile proudly. Despite himself, Zoro huffs a quiet laugh under his breath and grins back at them.
“Lead the way.”
Hopefully, he won’t regret this.
——————
“…c’mon, don’t you guys have anything to eat around here!?”
After pushing his way through the crowd, Zoro eventually finds himself at the front of the church with Jonny and Yosaku. The village folk greet him with visible relief as they part the waters to let him through. Judging by all their murmurings of ‘thank goodness’ and ‘it’s about time’, it seems they all share the sentiment that he’ll be taking care of this.
Though, he isn’t too sure what he’s supposed to be looking at right now.
At the altar in front of him is the ‘guy’ the brothers were talking about. The kid is sitting cross-legged on top of the wooden podium they use for preaching, hands tucked snugly into his torn-up, muddy robes. He’s sure this has gotta be some kind of sacrilege, but he really could care less. The priest isn’t shouting anything yet, so Zoro won’t mention it.
The swordsman takes the moment to absorb the stranger’s appearance and watch his movements for anything suspicious at the same time.
He’s clearly younger than Zoro, though not by much. His features are round, softer than you’d expect to see on a boy his age. His mess of hair is a deep black, catching the golden glow of sunlight seeping in through the various large windows, curling slightly at the ends in the summer humidity. His eyes carry a similar color, though the natural light offers him a different view. They appear closer to brown, full and warm with tones of honey and cacao.
The boy’s eyes are wide, brimming with life and vibrant colors of emotion, but there’s something off that Zoro can’t quite pick up from this distance. He could approach, demanding to know what this kid’s doing here kicking it back in their church of all places, but he doesn’t move.
His own silver eyes are stuck to deep, swirling brown, as if they’re pulling him in with some unknown force. It’s unnerving. His hands twitch at his side, one part of him aching to reach a hand for his sword, another telling him that doing so would be his undoing.
None of this makes any sense.
“Hey! You got somethin’ I can eat?”
Zoro’s pulled from his thoughts the moment the kid’s voice reaches his ears. It's the tell-tale sound of a teenage boy, confident and rough around the edges, but the way it tapers off elicits a slight frown from the swordsman. It’s the voice of someone who’s weakened, slightly out of breath, like the very act of speaking takes it out of him.
It takes him far too long to notice the boy is speaking to him now rather than the crowd, reciprocating his gaze and holding it on him with all the curiosity of an excited puppy. Zoro’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t look away.
Where did this guy even come from? What possessed him to visit a remote mountain settlement in the middle of nowhere?
“It’s a bad omen.” One of the elderly men behind him grumbles. “We have enough on our plate as it is with conserving our food. As the sun continues to leave us, who knows how much longer we’ll be able to grow our crops or raise healthy livestock..”
“One extra mouth to feed isn’t going to kill us.” Zoro butts in, his tongue sharp under the weight of his thinly veiled aggravation. He doesn’t turn around, but he can feel the look of disapproval burning into the back of his head.
What the hell is wrong with these people? This kid is clearly on the brink of starvation, and yet they’re acting like it’d be the end of the world if they fed him. He knows though that no matter what he tells them, they’re not going to give in. There’s no reasoning with mass mania.
Zoro steps forward onto the altar, ignoring the incessant buzzing of gossip from behind him as he does so. The kid keeps his impossibly wide eyes on the swordsman as he walks, but his grin only widens the closer Zoro gets. The expression seems to settle perfectly on the teen's face, exposing every tooth in its hold, crinkling the corners of his eyes until the glint of sunlight in their depth becomes blinding.
There’s a weight to what he’s about to do. He can feel it settle on his shoulders, heavy, but not unpleasantly so. Something indecipherable is drawing him in, moving him forward, and Zoro resigns himself to let it.
He stops in front of the podium about a foot away from the boy, who’s tilting his head at him curiously. The light filtering in through the window warms his cheeks, pulling a soft red up from under his skin, and yet the sting of his earlier sunburn has dissipated.
How strange.
Zoro reaches a hand into his garments, digging into a hidden pocket until he finds the strip of jerky he’d stuffed in there this morning. He meant to eat it after training, but as long as it gets eaten, it doesn’t really matter where it ends up.
The teen’s eyes visibly light up at the sight of the dried strip of meat, and absurd amounts of drool begin to drip from his mouth like a waterfall. An unvoiced laugh escapes Zoro’s chest at the sight. He really does resemble a lost puppy.
“For me?” The kid asks, reaching out a careful hand, eyes glistening with the shine of unshed tears. He looks as if he’s barely managing to hold himself back. Zoro doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so excited about food. His lips curl upwards into a slight smile.
“You see anyone else?” Zoro responds. The kid, clearly not needing any more confirmation, lunges forward to rip the meat from the swordsman's hand, nearly falling off the podium in the process. Zoro instinctively reaches forward to catch him, but the wooden stand settles before long. He huffs a relieved sigh.
The teen in front of him exhibits no restraint, tearing the jerky apart with his teeth, chewing loudly and humming in blissful contentment. The light catches the tears in the corners of his eyes, out of place with the unbridled joy on the kid’s face, and Zoro fights the urge to wipe them away. His fingers twitch at his side.
What is it about this guy that’s drawing him in?
Before he realizes, tanned hands slightly smaller than his own reach out and clasp his own hands within their hold. His fingers are surprisingly cold in contrast to the humid summer air, and that snaps Zoro’s attention back to the stranger. He’s beaming that same blinding grin again.
“I thought for sure I was gonna die! Thanks a lot!”
It takes a moment for Zoro to think up a response, because the kid suddenly seems perfectly healthy, like he wasn’t on the brink of starvation a few seconds ago. There’s no sign of fatigue, no rasp in his voice, and all the color has come back to his skin. It shouldn’t be possible to recover that quickly from eating one strip of jerky.
Zoro sighs. No use thinking so hard about it.
“I don’t care what they say. No one deserves to starve.” He replies. The teen’s eyes widen at that, before settling into something warm and sure. What he’s sure of, Zoro can’t tell.
“What’s your name?” The kid asks. He still hasn’t let go of Zoro’s hands.
“Roronoa Zoro.” He hums. This is a good chance to get some answers, and anyways, he can’t keep calling him ‘the kid’.
“What about you?” He questions. Something flickers in the kid’s eyes, and for a split second, his smile falters. It wouldn’t be noticeable were he not right in front of him. Zoro frowns, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice, falling right back into his previous expression.
“Y’know, I have no idea! How funny is that?”
Zoro’s jaw slacks. There’s no doubt in his mind now.
This is definitely going to be more trouble than it’s worth.