Chapter 1 - Weakness & Strength
"A Devil Fruit, they say, is both a blessing and a curse. A long time ago this referred to the gaining of new abilities - such as being able to fly or turn into an animal - while, at the same time, losing the valuable ability to swim. But now, the blessing and curse are two sides of the same coin; consuming a Devil Fruit will propel you into the social elite, on par with the Fishmen, out of the slums and into the Upper City. It means no more oppression, no more suffering - at least not the sort us regular humans experience. It means giving up your entire life, leaving everything and everyone behind, for the sake of selfish gain. No Fruit can be shared, and thus no reward can be shared either." Usopp paused for dramatic effect, enjoying the undivided attention of his small three-person audience. Finally, he added, "That's why they call it a Devil Fruit. It's not because you become a devil when you eat it, but because you have to become a devil to eat it."
Piiman, Ninjin and Tamanegi remained silent, mouths hanging open, mesmerized by their leader's theatrics. They had heard him talk about Devil Fruits before, many times, but it was always interesting to hear it again, as they sat around their bonfire, huddled together due to the cold weather, while Usopp waved his arms around dramatically as he spoke, casting shadows on the floor.
"Anyway," Usopp continued, adopting a more casual tone, "it's getting late. Get ready to sleep."
The three children groaned, expectedly, but did as they were told. They crawled into the tent they had pitched earlier that evening while Usopp was collecting firewood, wriggling about to find comfortable positions in the cramped space. They knew the importance of sleep, especially since it was something they didn't get to have much of every other night since fleeing their home village.
Usopp started to put the fire out, just like he did every night, in fear of attracting wild animals or, even worse, bored ability users. It had been several months since their narrow escape from the Baroque Works attack, but he was still as cautious and afraid as before. They hadn't encountered any High Citizens (the term Upper City residents referred to themselves with) since then, but he didn't want to take any risks at all. Piiman, Ninjin and Tamanegi were the only people he had left. He didn't have the heart to tell the children, but none of the villagers had survived except the four of them and possibly, hopefully, Kaya, Kurahadol and Merry. Kurahadol - bless his soul - had felt uneasy about the Baroque Works movement around the country, and insisted that Kaya be relocated elsewhere. They had moved just before the attack, so Usopp knew they had not been killed then. But he did not know where they had moved to, or what had happened to them since then, and could only cling on to the hope that everything was fine.
Pulling his cloak tigher over his shoulders, Usopp sat down, cross-legged, at the opening to the tent. It was already exceptionally cold, and could only get colder as the night grew darker. With the fire out, the pale moonlight was the only source of illumination left, dimly lighting the forest floor. Usopp clutched his slingshot tightly, as though holding it would chase trouble away. It was ironic, really; he knew the slingshot would be useless against High Citizens, but wielding it still comforted him. He would often remind himself of the story - he insisted it was true - of the shepherd boy who felled a giant with a slingshot, to invoke some small flicker of hope in himself. It wouldn't take long, though, for his pessimistic mind to rebuke the thought and say, almost with a sharp bite, "That giant couldn't create shock waves."
When he awoke, it was only because the night was darker than before that Usopp knew he had been sleeping for some time and not simply dozed off for a moment. He cast a glance behind him, and was comforted by the sight of his three companions, sleeping soundly. In a way he envied their naivety and innocence; they did not worry as much as he did about staying alive. Such optimism was something he had lost a long time ago, when his father left home and his mother passed away hanging on to the hope that he would return. What good had optimism done, then? The sombre reality that he and his mother had both known but denied then was that his father would never return. Once he had lost his mother too, after years of "I'll pull through, don't worry", Usopp gave in and began to see everything in its true, grey form.
The rustling of leaves interrupted his thoughts, and Usopp sat straighter, strained his eyes and peered into the darkness. Was that a figure behind the trees, or was it just his tired eyes and overactive imagination working together to play tricks on him? He gripped his slingshot tightly in his right hand while his left hand, still concealed by the cloak over his shoulders, reached into his pouch for some ammunition. He took a lead ball and placed it in his slingshot, and pulled it back, ready to fire if necessary.
There was a snicker, and a tall, muscular man stepped out into a spot lit up by the moonlight. He wore loose clothing and an devilish smirk, and had an air of arrogance around him. "My, my," he cackled, "what do we have here? A bunch of Normies? All alone in the forest?" He took a few steps closer to Usopp, who slowly raised his slingshot towards the intruder's head while still keeping it hidden beneath his cloak.
"P-please leave us be," Usopp said, stuttering. "We d-don't want any t-trouble." He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his muscles tightening in fear.
"Oh of course you don't," the man replied, "all you Normies don't." He stopped right in front of Usopp and looked down at the sharpshooter. "But that's the problem. You're all so boring." He squatted down, but still could not look straight into Usopp's eyes. "Let Mr Bellamy teach you how it's done. You see, safe isn't fun. Peace isn't fun. All the fun's in trou-"
Usopp fired his lead shot, jumping backwards in the process, knocking the tent to its side, exposing Piiman, Ninjin and Tamanegi. Bellamy was hit squarely in the face and fell backwards, landing on his lower back. The three children were awoken by the ruckus, and looked around, confused. Usopp screamed for them to run, which they did. He watched them flee deeper into the woods, and was turning to follow them when a fist flew straight into his stomach, the momentum sending him flying backwards into a tree.
"Big shot, aren't you?" Bellamy said, standing over Usopp. "You thought that would hurt me?" He raised his fist and punched Usopp again, this time in the jaw. The sharpshooter crumpled to the ground, more out of fear than pain. Usopp could withstand pain, but not the thought of it. Bellamy followed up with a kick, then another, snarling as he struck his weaker opponent multiple times.
As Usopp's groans grew softer and softer, Bellamy began to grow bored and stop. Leaving the half-conscious Usopp on the ground, he began walking in the direction the three young boys had taken. "What the hell was Doflamingo smoking when he said this area was fun?" Bellamy muttered to himself. "But since I'm here, I might as well do more hunting. They went this way, didn't they..."
Unwilling to remain down while his family was being threatened, Usopp placed one palm flat on the ground, using that hand to push himself up shakily. In his other hand he held his slingshot tightly, as though his grip on his weapon was his grip on their lives. "Don't... you... dare..." he managed to say, before sputtering into a fit of bloody coughs.
Bellamy stopped, looked back at Usopp, and began to laugh. "Just try and stop me." His legs coiled up like springs as he prepared to fire off in the boys' direction. Usopp scrambled for some ammo - he took out another lead shot - and fired, but Bellamy sprang upwards, through the canopy, just in time. The shot hit the tree which had been right in front of the Devil Fruit user instead.
"Dammit," Usopp cursed. Tears welled up in his eyes as he let out a cry of anguish. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. Then, filled with new resolve, he began running after Bellamy and the three boys, ignoring the pain that seared through his body which each step.
The hulking Axe-Hand Morgan was known only for his strength - of which he had an impressive amount of, yes - and nothing else. Strength without speed or precision was useless, though, against smaller, more agile enemies such as the green-haired swordsman. Morgan simply swung and missed as his opponent darted around him, dodging each attack with ease. Zoro had yet to draw his sword.
"Stop running and fight me like a man!" Morgan yelled, drops of saliva flying out of his mouth as he spoke. He was growing increasingly frustrated by how easily the swordsman avoided his axe, and even more so by the fact that he had not even drawn his sword. Morgan was a proud man, and one thing he absolutely could not stand was mockery.
Yet Zoro remained silent, knowing that one wrong step would mean getting hit. He knew he wouldn't die - Morgan wasn't that good - but he couldn't afford getting injured either. Morgan's strength pretty much guaranteed broken bones if he got hit, so Zoro's gameplan was simple; be defensive, and strike only when victory was absolutely certain. It was a game of patience, something his opponent definitely lacked. He hadn't drawn his sword yet because it meant less mobility, and also because he was confident that he would be able to unsheathe it and attack Morgan fast enough when given the opportunity.
All around them the crowd cheered and roared. Each time Morgan swung the calls of excitement increased in volume, but they were then followed by even louder cries of let-down as Zoro stepped to the side and Morgan missed. The spectators, most half-drunk, were craving for blood. They wanted to see someone fall. And while most inititally thought it would be the smaller swordsman who would lose, they now knew that that wasn't going to happen. The bookies were now collecting more bets, this time in favour of Zoro.
It was evident that Morgan was getting tired. His movements were getting slower, and he had begun to pant. Just a little longer, Zoro thought to himself. Circling his opponent a few more times, he made sure his decision to strike Morgan's neck was a good one. Each time the big man swung his axe, he left his neck open for a quick strike. A well-executed slash would bring him down immediately.
When the chance finally arose, Zoro's attack happened in a flash. The crowd barely had time to follow his movements as he leapt up, over Morgan's axe, drew out his sword and sliced the right side of his opponent's neck. There was a spurt of blood and the axe-wielder clutched his neck and tumbled to the ground. Zoro landed gracefully, scoffed, and resheathed his sword. The crowd was stunned momentarily, before erupting into a large ruckus. Some cheered, others booed. Zoro didn't care, and simply walked towards the bar, leaving the now motionless Axe-Hand Morgan and rowdy crowd behind.
"Another mess, Roronoah?" the bartender asked, smirking playfully.
"He asked for it," Zoro replied.
"You should be thankful that I've got workers to clean that up, if not it'd be you mopping up that pool of blood."
"I'd just fight elsewhere." Zoro took the glass of beer the bartender poured out for him and gulped it down, nodding a thank you.
"Like hell you would."
Zoro didn't reply, and the bartender continued to wipe a few finished glasses as she had been doing before he approached the counter.
"Anyway," she said quietly, breaking the silence, "you better go. The crowd's starting to disperse and you know what that means."
"A man can't enjoy a drink after a fight nowadays, can he?"
"Not in this bar. I'll collect your winnings for you first. See you later."
"Thanks, Nojiko."
"Get going! I don't want those damn Government dogs hounding me for your name again."
Zoro downed the rest of his glass and got up to leave. Noticing a few people following him - they probably wanted him to join their group of prized fighters and leech more money off him - he quickened his pace, casting a backward glance at Nojiko, who he overheard scolding someone for asking about him. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Now, there was a woman he never needed to worry about. "No, no, fellas, I don't know his name. He just comes here every now and then, fights, and leaves. I think he's just bored."
Her claim was actually true; a long time ago Zoro and Nojiko had drawn up a contract of sorts - with the aid of her business-savvy younger sister, an orange-haired woman whose name he had forgotten and whose body was even more attractive than Nojiko's - detailing their "business deal". She was to collect his winnings, help him avoid the cops and provide him with free alcohol and food. In return, he would help smuggle whatever she wanted around and ward off any troublemakers.
Then of course, there were the unwritten agreements, such as how she could take part of the winnings and how he could stay at her place whenever he wanted.
He walked quickly out of the bar and towards the shadowy forest. The night air was cold and wet thanks to the rain earlier that day, but now the sky was clear, a dark canvas illuminated slightly by a pale crescent moon and scattered stars. As he walked further and further the lights and sounds of the Cocoyashi Mikan died down, and the darkness and silence of the forest took over.
Zoro was taking his usual route - a big loop, basically, which lead him to the river and back to the Cocoyashi Mikan much later in the night. He would sometimes stop at the river for some time to wash his wounds, if he could be bothered, or simply rest and wait for time to pass. Rivers were good places to rest - most High Citizens, fearful of water, would avoid such places. Also, Zoro felt that he would be able to take on even the stronger High Citizens in such an environment.
A sudden rustle of leaves alerted him to another presence, and Zoro instinctively reached for his sword. A medium-sized figure leapt out in front of him from behind a bush, and he unsheathed his blade, ready to slice the attacker - only to find that it was not one medium-sized figure but three small ones, and from the terrified yelp the boys let out, he knew they were anything but attackers.
"What the hell..." the swordsman muttered, confused. The three boys sprinted away before he could say anything else. The thought of following them crossed his mind, but he put it aside quickly, deciding that it was none of his business and that getting involved in anything but his business was not a good idea right now, not with his money supply running low and energy partly drained.
Instead, Zoro continued walking, only to be disturbed once again by yet another presence, this time from behind him. Spinning around and drawing his sword, the swordsman remained silent but was ready to defend against any attack, like before. A man had just landed several feet behind him from above the trees, evident from the hole that had just been created in the canopy. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he cackled. Zoro held his breath to make as little noise as possible, and crouched down to avoid getting seen. "Damn, those kids are hard to find!" the man continued, before shooting off into the sky again.
A Devil Fruit user, Zoro thought to himself. What does he want with those kids?
And again, he then told himself not to bother. It had nothing to do with him, and it would be better to leave it like that. However, after two disturbances, he was prepared for a third and kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to fight immediately if necessary. He relaxed only when he reached the river, where he took off his shirt, placed it with his swords by the river bank, and waded in. The usual sting of small wounds, sustained from other fights, was almost revitalizing, as was the freshness of the water. He closed his eyes and brought his head under the water for only a moment - he couldn't leave his swords alone for too long.
Done with his quick bath, Zoro emerged from the water and sat by the river, leaning back against a large rock, swords by his side. The night was still young; it was still too early to return to the Cocoyashi Mikan. He contemplated visiting another bar in the area, owned by a large man by the name of Blueno, but decided that he was better off saving his money tonight. It was pretty obvious from the beginning that he would beat Morgan, so his winnings probably didn't amount to much. Footsteps silent and enveloped in the pale moonlight, the swordsman slowly made his way back to the closest place he had to a home.