It's not like she's worried about him.
Being worried would require her to care about him, and she will never ever care for such a rude, gruff, so-not-even-cute mossy-headed jerk.
She's worried about Master Moria, because even if things did get way out of hand on Thriller Bark, he gave her cute things, and she misses him and what if he's really dead?
Master Moria is way more important than some dumb swordsman who is so not cute, not even a little, and he won't even say thank you for all the first-aid she's given him, the jerk.
… But Perona remembers.
She remembers him fighting, like the idiot he is, no smarter than those stupid monkeys, bloodying the bandages she so painstakingly bound him in, making a mess of her hard work - that beef-headed jerk - but…
She also remembers his desperation; even after falling, he climbed to his feet. Even if his knees shook and even if he couldn't possibly lose any more blood, the idiot still clashed with the humandrills, striving to reach the shore, to find his crewmates.
Most of all, though, she remembers the look on his face when Dracule Mihawk showed up and told him about Marineford, about Straw Hat Luffy, about Portgas D. Ace and -
She remembers, because when the Warlord spoke those words, Fire Fist Ace died before his eyes, something in Zoro changed. His stupid intense face went slack, his squinty eyes widened, and if his efforts before were desperate - well, that one sentence redoubled those efforts, drove him over whatever line existed between desperation and outright panic.
She remembers, so when the News Coo arrives with the story, she knows she'll find him somewhere out in the forest.
But she doesn't go because she's worried, no way, but even if he is a dumb jerk and not cute at all, it's more fun to mess with him than with the Warlord (who isn't fun at all, what a killjoy)and he makes it so easy. In fact, he's probably lost somewhere on his way to the shore right now, dragging the shattered planks of his borrowed rowboat, mumbling to his stupid not-cute self about swimming all the way back to Sabaody.
Or maybe he's fighting the humandrills again.
Or maybe he's dead.
Perona floats through the forest, the newspaper clenched in her hands, and she looks over here and she looks over there, and she even checks by the giant cross but other than some old dried smears of blood there's no sign of him.
The blood is rather ominous though.
Not that she's worried.
Where is that idiot?
She catches herself almost calling his name, but that's stupid - it's not like she has to find him, it's not that important. So she doesn't call. He'll show up eventually, even if he is so determined to swim back to Sabaody; his sense of direction is so backwards, the jerk will probably end up back at the castle instead.
She's just decided to head toward the castle, because yes, he's probably gone the exact opposite direction he was supposed to, when she finally finds him.
He's resting against a tumble of broken stone steps, and he's hiding. She just manages to bite her tongue, because she knows he won't admit he's hiding and it would be so fun to poke at his sore buttons, but that's not why she's here - not exactly, anyway -
His shirt is in tatters and his bandages are sodden with blood. There's blood smeared across his face, too, and he squints around at the trees, his eyes narrow, cautious, like he expects the humandrills to jump out at any moment.
He really does make it too easy.
She floats up behind the rockfall, slips through the stone, and shoves her hand through his torso.
He doesn't scream, but he lets out a shout that sends birds shrieking from the trees and when she slips her head through his chest, breathless with giggles, he leaps away and has drawn a sword before she can blink.
He's barely standing, bleeding and swaying, but he scowls when he sees it's only her.
She laughs harder. "You should have seen your face!" she says, tears in her eyes. But he's already turned away, and he slouches off into the woods. "Hey," she calls, "you idiot, don't walk away when I'm talking to you. How rude!"
"I'm busy," he says without looking back, "Go away."
"Busy getting lost, maybe. Hey, get back here," she shouts. "I've been looking for you for hours you know!"
He doesn't reply, so she calls, "Look over here! I've got something to show you!"
Zoro waves over his shoulder, like he doesn't even care.
After all the time she wasted to find him? "You jerk," she hollers. "Fine, then I won't show you what I brought! I hope you get dizzy and fall on your stupid ass!"
His stupid, tight, muscular, perfectly shaped ass.
"You jerk!" she shrieks. Her face burns and she turns away from his retreating form. Teasing him is no fun if he doesn't react. She could hit him with a Negative, make him grovel at her feet and regret being born, but she pouts at the thought.
"Not like I care if there's news about that stupid Straw Hat anyway," she grumbles, and she whips around, mouth open to hurl more insults after him.
But he's there, suddenly, looming over her, demanding, "What did you say?"
He reaches, grabs for the newspaper in her hand - but it's a ghost of the original, just like her, and his arm swipes through it and flies through her chest. It almost tickles and she gasps as he stumbles through her body and nearly falls on his face.
He catches himself, though, and twists around to make another pass.
"Oh stop it, you idiot!" He trips through her again, not listening to her at all, and she plants her hands on her hips and sighs. "You can't touch me. How dumb are you, anyway?"
"You said there's news of Luffy," he shouts and she blinks at his volume. "Give it here!"
She floats up out of his reach and rests her chin on a hand. "Hmm, what a brute you are," she says, fanning herself with the newspaper. "You could at least ask nicely."
"Give me that," he shouts up at her.
"Really, you're not even trying," she says, unfolding and refolding the newspaper, still just out of his reach. He stands there fuming, teeth clenched and hands balled into fists, and this is what she calls fun, but -
But.
Even if his stupid broad face is creased with anger, his usually squinty eyes are wide and bloodshot, and there's a feverish sheen of sweat on his brow. Her stomach turns.
Damn the dumb-faced brute, he's making her feel bad.
"Oh sit down before you fall over," she says over his next complaint.
"I'm fine," Zoro growls, "now give me that damn paper!" He jumps for it, swipes right through her, of course, the idiot. He lands heavily on one boot, slips, windmills his arms to catch his balance.
He doesn't fall on his ass, but one knee hits the ground hard and he puffs for breath.
He's so focused on staying upright that when she slaps the newspaper through his face, he startles and really does topple over onto his ass with a cry and a grunt. She can't help but cackle as he rubs his rear.
When Zoro moves to push himself up, though, she swoops down, saying, "Oh, stay down, would you? You'll only embarrass yourself more."
He scrabbles back, even though it doesn't save him from a face full of her ghostly body. He swats at her, like she's some fly that can be shooed.
He scoots back so far that he bumps into the tumbledown stone stairway. He scrambles for a handhold, huffing and straining to rise. Perona sighs. The fool is actually going to try to stand again?
She rolls her eyes.
"Don't you ever learn?"
He growls and drags himself up halfway on the rocks. The idiot's determined to ignore her, so she dives down into his face and screams, "Lay down already! I'll hold the stupid paper for you!"
He freezes and stares at her mouth like the rude empty-headed moron he is.
He stares for so long that her face burns; even she can't believe she said that - she's supposed to be teasing him, not helping him.
"Well hurry up," she yells, slapping the newspaper through his dumb so-not-cute-at-all face again, "before I change my mind! You are so annoying."
She blinks in surprise, then, because Zoro slides down and leans back against the stairs without a word of protest.
The stunned open expression on his face hardens as she floats down to his side and it makes her want to slap him again because he's even less cute like that, if that's even possible, but his eyes are on the newspaper.
She flips it open to the page she earmarked earlier. She holds it up for him to read.
His eyes zero in on the centerpiece photo first.
His face goes slack - not blank, it's not his usual poker face - in fact, it's the opposite. The creases on his brow lift away, his eyelids relax and droop even as his eyes dart back and forth across the photo, again and again.
His eyes scour every inch, every centimeter of the black and white picture of Straw Hat Luffy, frozen in time, his body covered in bandages, head bowed in respectful silence, the infamous straw hat clutched to his heart.
His lips move. He doesn't speak, but he mouths the words, over and over, as if to reassure himself.
Perona hears his words anyway, as she watches his lips move, over and over, and are those tears misting his eyes or is it just a trick of the light?
The words are an older brother, finding the youngest awakened by troubled dreams - a rough chaff, an arm around the shoulders for a gentle shake, warm lips pressed to a wrinkled brow, a sheltering kiss:
Luffy.
You're alive.
You're okay.
Luffy!