There were many things said about Roronoa Zoro. Many ideas about his personality, his morals and preferences. Most of them slightly negative, all thanks to the complaints of a certain person.
Roronoa Zoro was rude. (Not at work, no one ever mentioned that!)
Roronoa Zoro was disoriented, geographically and ideologically.
Roronoa Zoro had a drinking problem.
Roronoa Zoro had no sense for fashion or any good taste in anything.
Roronoa Zoro wasn't an intellectual, not at all smart. (Well, obviously smart enough for his job, duh.)
But there was one thing that not even Sanji could deny about Roronoa Zoro: He cared.
So when his sister had called him that rainy summer night three years ago, he hadn't hesitated to follow her request.
It had been a terrible sight: The once so joyful, impulsive, energetic young woman decreased to the most cruel of emotions. At first a shadow of her former self; the same snapping tone when he offered to support her with the lightest tasks, only in a darker sound. Lacking that underlying tone of affection, the foundation of their sibling-relationship, eventually replaced by anger. Though he knew she had only been speaking through her despair, it still burned in his chest.
In order to find a safer ground for his sister to stand on, Zoro had moved from the campus grounds to her apartment, accepting the train ride back and forth every day. They had tried to walk the easy way—spending more time together, have set meal times, even sports and some arts classes he had accompanied her to. An attempt at being a family again, and reminding his sister of her worth in life.
For nearly a year, her mental state had been good, as far as Zoro could judge. And though, at some point, it had seemed necessary to him to be around more often. So his dates with Sanji had become less, movies with Nami a monthly occasion and his classes reduced to a random routine. It had punched a hole in his own sanity but he couldn't lose hold of his sister. Something in her behavior had changed if only faintly and still it wouldn't leave him be.
Little by little anyone around them had been witnesses of these small changes. Their demands of his presence at their meetings had started to become less then. No need for explanations.
From the dark episode of his sister, she had slowly faded into a ghost of herself. All energy lost, no appetite, no willpower whatsoever, and Zoro had found himself missing the black tips to her pink hair. The thick black eyeliner framing her eyes had originally been too much for Zoro's taste but at least she had tended to herself, at least she had cared about her looks.
But Zoro cared, too. And when his sister wouldn't eat anymore nor leave her bed, when her face was blank of makeup and expression, when her life seemed drained from her—he had had no other choice but to walk by her side.
To the doctors who had tested her physics. To the shrinks who had tested her mind. To the analysts who had tested her sanity—not all with results but they had ended up with one or two—in the end, they had been set up with meds and some therapy sessions.
Twelve months and three weeks later, Zoro had sat down outside the ER, waiting for felt hours for some sort of information. Not a suicide attempt, they had supposed, an accidental mixed overdosis from her meds. What had it mattered anyway, Zoro had only wanted for her to be safe. And though, he hadn't quite fought down the growing fury towards the doctors. Then, that very moment, Zoro had sworn to himself to save his sister with his own might.
Another round of tests and appointments had followed but once the diagnosis had started to sound close to incurable insanity and madness to Zoro, he had cancelled everything.
Two years into hell, they had finally found an etablissement and a doctor whom Zoro could trust. Taking care of your heavily depressed sister and ignoring yourself had taken its toll on him and one day he had spilled the beans in front of his friends. About her state and how no one had ever tried to help them but sell their typical methods. How his own strength had thinned out and his hopes faded into a pale green. It had appeared miraculous, unlikely, unexpected, when Usopp had offered the only promising solution—all the time within their reach but outside their vision.
After a year with only phone communication, Zoro had been surprised to receive an invitation by his sister. Nothing could force him to turn her down, so he had cancelled all his plans and taken off from work. No one could hold it against him, could they?
It was a grey November day, cold and breezy but no rainfall. Would the colorlessness have impact on her mood? Zoro wondered, and how her pink hair would contrast the plain greyish sky. The park was calm and lonely, yet a welcoming change from work. Natural emptiness resided between the groups of trees and wandered along the paths. Despite the harsh breeze, a nice day if one was set up with suiting clothes. What would her winter coat look like?
Their meeting point was at the bench near the fountain in the town's park, a place they had used to sit a lot during their walks the year before the first diagnosis. Zoro remembered how he had hated it at first—taking walks in the park? They were in their twenties! But already after the second walk, he had realised how valuable and necessary wandering through the nature was. Similar to meditating which he had done less and less over the years. And nowadays, he was teaching it to his kids at work.
"Dozing off already?" Softer, smaller but it was her voice. It was Perona.
Zoro opened his eyes he had subconsciously closed and nearly jumped off his seat to greet his sister with a warm hug. Admittedly, it helped to meet in an empty park however he would probably still press his face into her shoulder as he was doing now.
"Aw, still the cuddling bear, huh?" There it was, a faint mocking in her small and soft voice. Her hands curled into his jacket underneath his shoulder blades—it looked awkward but they had been managing their differences in height since childhood. "I've missed you."
"Missed you, too…" He pulled away a little to look at her face, framed by a slightly messed up hairdo. The sudden hug had loosened some strands now falling into her face and Zoro couldn't resist the urge to brush them back behind her pointy ears. Guess Sanji had been right—supporting Perona had softened himself.
She let go of him with a small grin. "N'aw big boy, don't get mushy." Gently, she patted his back like she had used to before her first breakdown and pushed her gloved hands into the pockets of her night blue coat.
Colour. All over her. Despite the season and the weather, there was colour on her. From her pink her to the teal scarf over the night blue coat finishing with black dotted teal tights in dark violet boots. Still dark, but colour. And he had to point that out. "You look great."
"I knooow," Perona smiled happily—not even hiding the blush on her cheeks. "I was shopping last week—after two years, can you believe that?"
"Actually not," Zoro laughed, a memory of her dragging him into the mall for the uptenth time flashing his mind, "so living with Kaya is fun?"
Smile softening, Perona turned towards the little forest section up ahead. "Wanna take a walk?" Not waiting for a response, she sneaked an arm under his, the way she had always done, and they wandered off into the small group of trees. After they had passed through the entrance, past the large winding tree that could've been a movie set for Alice in Wonderland, Perona casted her look to the path in front of them, the smile barely lingering in the corners of her mouth.
"You don't have to talk about it," Zoro hastily said—had he been insensitive?
"That's not the point," Perona countered with a shake of her head. "I just like walking and talking. And having you close." The smile returned for a second. "But it's no fun at all. It's all about routine and schedules and rules. And the talking sessions are exhausting, like she keeps analysing every word I say—at least I think so."
Zoro frowned. How was that helpful? Hadn't the last analyst done the same and even damaged her more? "But you seem better now."
"I am! It's helping. I get to decide what rules we set for me. She recommends and suggests methods and activities and so on and we try them if I want to—or we don't. She grants me the power to have a say in this, that helps so much!" Perona gestured how much—something she hadn't done in years. "The other doctors and therapists have taken this power from me. I felt so powerless, so paralysed and as if I wasn't allowed to decide for myself. But I am and I should! That's what Kaya said."
"She's definitely right with that," Zoro agreed and allowed the smile of pride to brighten his features. "So she's teaching you how to deal with freedom?"
"So to say. And how I fit in with it. That I'm of worth and that I have the right to create happiness for myself. I have the choice to be optimistic—or pessimistic for that matter." Her voice became smaller towards the end, as much as it had been upon on their greeting a few minutes ago. "And I should try different things like hobbies or even subcultures or… well, religion. Kaya said, maybe I was missing something in my life that I could… you know, put my passion into."
Zoro halted, "Religion?"
"Yes. You know, going to Church or a shrine and believing in Gods and stuff. Maybe it could fill a void," Perona replied matter-of-factly with a little hopefulness.
"I would rather have you look for a profession. Take classes at college like you used to want to and find your passion there. Faith doesn't seem… reliable to me," Zoro rambled, slightly annoyed by the whole idea. It had already bothered him how faithful their adoptive father was and he didn't even attend Church.
"Yeah like you've become a professor for Asian Studies, Mr. Kindergarten." She rolled her eyes, obviously unsurprised by his reaction. "Look—I don't need to believe in any deity. Religion itself is mainly the community thing. Maybe that's what would help me. And maybe I need to fail and misjudge my interests in order to figure out what I really need. Like you."
Knowing very well to accept defeat in this debate, Zoro chuckled, again proud of her development. They were arguing again—on eye level even—or at least he would like to think that way.
"I don't ask you to join some cult with me or commit your entire life to some God," she continued, finally reaching her main request. "All I want is for you to come along with me. Once. To Church. On Thursday." She quickly rose a gloved finger to silence her brother before he could respond, "On Thursday because it's emptier then. And it's only once. I'm not sure whether I would like it and I don't want to be on my own when I find out. Please."
⸺
"And you didn't blow up in flames? Amazing," Nami whistled, her words drenched in sarcasm.
"No, I did not. It was quite alright even," Zoro admitted, "Weird looks because I didn't kneel down, stand up, sing along or pray but at least Perona remembered the few prayers Mihawk taught us."
"And you made her happy."
Zoro grinned proudly. "Yes, I did."
There were many things said about Roronoa Zoro. Rude, college dropout, disbeliever, chaotic, stupid, dumb, and whatever else Sanji called him.
But he would even walk with his sister to the ends of the world—or Church for that matter—if her happiness was to be found there.
That's how much Roronoa Zoro cares.