Roronoa Zoro, the famous ex-pirate hunter, soon-to-be Greatest Swordsman in the World, was thinking.
Scratch that, he was brooding. Sulking. Even--he forced himself to admit it--angsting. Everything good in his life seemed to go sour. He’d finally made friends with Kuina, only to lose her to a stupid accident the very next day. He’d been happy living and traveling with Luffy and the rest of the crew, only to land on an island with no beer. And, when he’d finally acquired another, less-satisfying-but-it’ll-do alcoholic beverage, it had turned him into a pansy.
He hated his life.
He slammed the drink he’d been nursing (and damn the side effects) onto the table and stood up. He’d never become the Greatest Swordsman in the World just sitting around and whining! There was only one thing he could think of that would relieve his misery--hurting something. That thought in mind, he strode over to Luffy, Usopp and Sanji, who had migrated to another table.
“But Usopp!” Sanji whined. “Why not? I mean, between the two of us I’m sure we could seduce Nami-san!”
“I told you before,” Usopp said, “I don’t share.” Zoro felt his heart flutter at the sound of Usopp’s voice and groaned at the sensation. Why now, of all times? He didn’t have time to feel this way! He was Roronoa Zoro! He was immune to such things!
“Well then, why don’t you do Luffy and let me have Nami-san?” Sanji persisted, pointing to Luffy who was nuzzling Usopp’s neck affectionately. Usopp scratched Luffy’s scalp. Luffy sighed happily. Zoro gulped. Usopp’s hair was so curly and dark... and Luffy was so, so cute...
“Too easy,” Usopp said, his voice sounding like honey to Zoro’s fevered brain. Zoro shook his head. Not. Right. Now.
“Well, then,” Sanji purred, “how about it? You and me?”
Usopp glared at Sanji. “Listen, you,” he said, “you’ve been bothering me all day, and if you ask me one more time I will sell your ass to a Malaysian for two Beri!”
“Fine, then,” Sanji huffed, crossing his arms and pouting. “Go ahead and sell me. Maybe then I’d get some action.”
“Uh, guys,” Zoro said, interrupting the conversation before his--no, not lust, just feelings, he told himself--could overcome him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yes?” Sanji asked, leering at him.
“What can we do you for, Zoro?” Usopp added, also leering.
Zoro blinked. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. He couldn’t fight them now, none of them. Sanji would be best, but that pervert would probably grope him in his current state. Luffy was just too cute to fight. And Usopp would also grope him, but Zoro would kick his ass for it. If he could just stop staring at that smooth, tan skin...
“Argh!” he yelled, clawing at his hair. “Stop it!”
“Stop what, Zoro?” Zoro would never have thought Usopp’s voice could be seductive--no, not seductive, just... OK, seductive--but something in him wanted to go to Usopp, sit in his lap, and tell him all his troubles. To have Usopp listen, really listen, and hold him and run a hand through his hair and tell him he lo--NO!
“Hey, Zoro, where are you going?” Luffy asked as Zoro strode past his friends, a determined look on his face.
“To the room!” Zoro barked.
“Ooh, who do you want to join ya?” Usopp asked, waggling his eyebrows at him.
“Alone! I am going to the room alone!” Zoro shouted over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. He stomped down the hall to his room, threw open the door and slammed it shut. He kicked off his shoes and threw himself onto the bed, fighting the urge to cry. Wiping his face, he rolled over right into Nami.
“What are you doing here?” she screeched, darting away from him with the covers up around her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Zoro retorted. “This is my room!”
“No, you idiot, this is my room! Why are you here?”
Zoro belatedly realized she was naked; she must have been sleeping. He forced his eyes away from her smooth, pale shoulders and to her face, which was rapidly becoming dangerous. He backed away slowly, eyes wide.
“Stop staring at me, Zoro!” Nami shouted. Zoro averted his eyes, fighting the urge to peek as he heard the sounds of Nami getting dressed. What he wouldn’t give for a good hard fu--a good hard fight. But if he fought with Nami, she’d kick his ass, and that was not what he needed right now. He took a deep breath.
“Hey Nami,” he said, “can we talk?”
The rustling sound stopped. “Ah... about what, Zoro?”
Zoro clasped his hands tightly in his lap and gulped. He considered his plan of attack. Should he lead up to the main thrust of his problems with a few feints? Put her off-guard that way so he could finally land a blow? Or should he go on the offensive, batter down her defenses with a few powerful attacks and then... then what?
Well, he’d just have to find out.
“I was about eleven years old,” he started. “I had a friend. Her name was... Kuina.” He paused. How many years had it been since he’d said that name aloud? “She... I could never win. No matter how many times I challenged her, or how many swords I used, I could never beat her. Never.
“One day--night, actually, I challenged her to a duel with real swords. She beat me then, too. And then she said I’d beat her soon, because she was getting older and soon I’d be stronger than her.” He balled his hands into fists. “Do you have any idea how much that pissed me off? What the hell does something stupid like that have to do with anything? That meant that when I did beat her, it wouldn’t be because I was better, it would be because she was weaker. I hated her for being that weak already.
“So we made a promise. One day, one of us would become the world’s greatest swordsman. No matter what, we wouldn’t lose to anyone except each other. And the next day,” he stopped, afraid to go on. But he had to. He wasn’t going to back down from anyone, even Kuina. Especially Kuina. “The next day, she died. She fell down the stairs.”
Helpless tears spilled from his eyes, and he wiped at them angrily. He was Roro-frickin’-noa Zoro, soon-to-be Greatest Swordsman in the World. He did not weep. “She died.” The words spilled out from his mouth like his tears from his eyes. “She died, and now I’ll never be able to beat her. I’ll always be second-best. Always.”
There was silence for a moment as Zoro attempted to get his emotions under control.
“I’m... sorry, Zoro,” Nami said tentatively. “It must be hard for you.” Zoro nodded, an action which caused another small flood of tears to escape. “Listen,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I’m gonna let you have your space, get calmed down. Come down for dinner, OK?” And with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Zoro stared at the closed door for the longest time. Rejected. He’d been completely and utterly rejected. Nami, the person he’d thought would sympathize the most with him, had retreated in the face of his pain.
He gripped the blanket with both hands. No one understood him. No one could. What was the point? Why go around pretending he was going to beat Mihawk? He rubbed the scar on his chest, which was still prominent after all this time. No way. He’d never fulfill his dream, he’d never amount to anything. He’d always be second-best. And what was the point of living if you would always be second-best?
That thought in mind, Zoro stood and crossed the room to the window, clutching his swords to his chest. He stood there for a moment, feeling the pain of the world seep into his soul. “I’m coming, Kuina,” he whispered. Then he opened the window and threw himself out of it.
