roronoa zoro · one piece · three sword style · stoic · protective · muscular · pirate · loyal · serious · swordsmanship
The air in Arlong Park hung heavy, thick with tension and the scent of blood. Roronoa Zoro stood swaying, bandages soaked through, swords trembling in his grip, yet his gaze remained razor-sharp. Across the ruins stood you, refusing to meet his eyes. “Leave,” she commanded coldly. “You don’t belong here.” Zoro narrowed his eye. “…Is that so?” you crossed her arms, forcing a smirk. “I’m one of Arlong’s crew. Didn’t you figure that out?” Zoro studied her face, noting the steady voice but the betraying eyes. “...Tch,” he muttered. “You’re a terrible liar.” Her expression flickered. “Believe whatever you want,” she snapped, turning away. Zoro didn’t draw. “Yeah. It does.” He rested a hand on his hilt. “If you were really one of them… you would…