A/N: I wrote a really self indulgent fic and if you guys are interested I might continue with it? I should stop starting longform fanfics

Zoro was not having a good day. You'd think that finally heading back to Saobody Park after two long years to be reunited with his captain and crew would be enough to lift his spirits—but the trip back was making him more than impatient.

Perona especially. It was kind of her to escort him there, he supposed grudgingly, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He'd already spent nearly two years in the same castle with her—he didn't really want to spend any more. A fledgling respect had grown between them while they lived in Mihawk's castle, sure, but not much more than that. And as the time to return home approached, his tension grew ever higher.

The past few months had been the worst. The deadline Luffy had given was slower than dirt in getting here, and now there was (finally) only two months left. He'd just barely finished his training under Mihawk three days ago, and he was getting antsy. According to the map and Perona, it would take almost the entire two months to get back to Saobody. (It would have taken less if they both didn't have to avoid Marine bases and ships—but he had a feeling it was best to stay low for now—but it was still beyond irritating to have Perona constantly reminding him of it.)

Today was just another in a long line of irritations. They'd missed their boat (thanks to the hurricane that almost sunk their previous one), so they were stuck on this miserable island until the next one came tomorrow morning.

Normally, Zoro would have been all for a day of rest—but the thought of seeing his crewmates again was a powerful one, and made him eager to keep moving.

Perona had found a hotel for them, one that didn't ask too many questions but didn't stink to high heaven (a hard combination to find). After reassuring her that he could get directions back if needed, Zoro had let his himself wander out of the little port town. Maybe it was the fact he was going to be stuck here far longer than intended, but he found the town disproportionately stifling.

The surrounding woods were tall and thin, more pipe cleaners than trees, but crowded together like gossiping housewives. It had just rained, leaving deep puddles and streaming rivulets in the uneven road—now more mud than dirt. The afternoon sun was hidden by the still-present (but much thinner) rainclouds, sending out the occasional stray beam of sunlight. Even to his one good eye, everything looked sharp and clear, like a photograph from a high-end den-den mushi.

He kept walking for a good hour, subconsciously noting every difference between this forest and the mangrove of the Saobody Archipelago. This one was bluer, thinner, and had less of a presence, but it was just as welcoming.

That is, until he was attacked by a wild dog.

Zoro had seen the beast approaching up the path for a few minutes now—it and the small group of skuzzy-looking men accompanying it. He hadn't considered it to be a particularly wild dog at first, either—for one thing, it was pulling a cart piled high with large boxes (and a few of the men). It was huge, though, nearly four feet tall at the shoulder—all red-and-white fur and dark eyes.

He hadn't really paid attention to it—just kept his hand idly on the hilt of his sword as they approached. If he had looked a little closer, he would have noticed the odd glint in the dog's eyes as it looked him up and down; the way its ears swiveled in his direction; the way it held still for just a moment, as if thinking.

And then it pounced, growling—taking the sled with it. Boxes and men went flying, landing with a splat into the mud.

Now that, he saw. In an instant Wado Ichimonji was in his hand, blocking the dog's claws just before they slashed at his chest. He parried, but the dog moved incredibly fast for something its size. It dodged another blow, the ropes attaching it to the sled falling slack.

Great, he'd cut it loose.

The men shouted, scrambling out of the mud. One or two of them tried to get between Zoro and the dog, while the rest were preoccupied with the fallen boxes and toppled sled.

"Doran, the hell d'you think you're doing?" One man bellowed, trying in vain to grab the dog's tail.

Doran dodged him easily, bolting back to attack Zoro again—this time its fangs missed his head by a fraction of an inch.

"Play along," it hissed in his ear as it passed, and his eye widened in shock. A zoan user?

"He threatened me," the dog barked, giving Zoro an almost imperceptible wink. "I need to take him down a few pegs." Doran spoke clearly now, and he could tell it was a girl's voice. What was her plan?

"Doran, Zima'll have your hide if you make us late to the deal—" the man replied, but was cut off as Zoro leapt back towards her, two swords out now. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but if this dog-girl wanted a fight, she'd get one.

They sparred for a minute, Zoro watching suspiciously as Doran held back imperceptibly. A misplaced paw here, a snap of the jaws a millisecond too slow there—just enough so that if it did land, it wouldn't do much damage. A few of the men pulled their guns and tried to help, but ended up getting slashed for their trouble.

He grunted in irritation. Just how weak did these people think he was?

"Don't waste my time," he growled, and landed a harsh blow across her side, knocking her back into the (newly restacked) boxes with such force that they splintered open. Their contents spilled out into the mud—a suspicious amount of pills for boxes labeled 'canned fruit.'

The men cursed, scrabbling to scoop them up.

"Doran! Kill that bastard!" The man from before yelled. "He just ruined half our shipment!"

She rose slowly from the splintered wood, panting. "Told you he was bad news. Don't worry, though, I got this."

"You better," he griped, putting his unexpectedly useless pistol away. "Just show up for the deal on time."

"Yeah, whatever."

Zoro looked at her doubtfully as the men gathered what pills they could and ran off. She looked over her shoulder, turning back once the coast was clear and wagging her tail.

"You fight pretty well, stranger."

He sheathed his swords, no longer unnerved by a human voice coming from a dog's body.

"Wait—you don't wanna keep going?" she asked, tilting her head. "It was just getting fun."

Zoro repressed a sigh.

After the swordsman stalked off, Deirdre made her way to the meeting point—an abandoned house in the middle of the woods. Even if she hadn't memorized the map, it would have been easy enough to follow Krupin's scent trail. She stayed in her dog form, since it was faster, only stopping to shift back (and change into her clothes) once she was within two hundred feet of her destination. She dragged her hair into a hasty ponytail as the house came into view.

It was more of a shack than a house, and obviously hadn't been lived in for more than a decade. Krupin and the rest of her unofficial wardens were waiting by the door, holding what was left of the shipment in their shirts. A surge of pride and contempt rose in her chest as she took in the effects of her handiwork.

"'Sup, guys?" she called, stretching as she got within range of them.

Her mother's advice rose to her mind once again: When dealing with enemies, don't show weakness. Make them think you're completely at ease. Every once in a while, remind them why they shouldn't mess with you.

She'd done pretty well at it so far, she thought. Even without a real plan, too. She just needed an opening, something that slimeball Popov wouldn't see coming…

A few of her wardens grumbled, busy counting what was left of their stock. Krupin stood from his perch on a stone as she approached, his arms folded.

"Did you take care of that swordsman?" he asked expectantly. Deirdre rolled her eyes.

"'Course I did. Don't you trust me, Krupin?"

He frowned. "No, frankly, I don't."

She shrugged. "Well, doesn't matter. Popov's the one that calls the shots. 'S long as I keep him happy, you're stuck with me."

Deirdre couldn't help but smirk, thinking of the shattered boxes and bruised bodies she'd caused not an hour ago. Luckily for her, the smugness translated well for her façade.

"Don't remind me," he muttered.

With Krupin's mood effectively soured, the six of them opened the door and walked in. Deirdre discreetly grabbed the first aid kit from the shortest man, giving him a glare. The cut on her cheek was beginning to sting.

It took a moment for Deirdre to recall who they were meeting with. Kerrim? Curtis? Crow? No, that wasn't it…

"You're late," a voice said from a dark corner of the room, making the hair on her arms stand on end. Her eyes darted to the spot, dragged by the pull of this stranger's sheer power. It wasn't quite as strong as the swordsman's, but still far out of Krupin and the boys' league.

Carrow, she remembered suddenly. That was his name. If this Carrow guy got aggressive, it was likely to end in blood. Lots of blood. Possibly hers. As entertaining as it would be to see Krupin get the daylights beat out of him, she didn't think she wanted to risk her own skin to witness it.

So she sat on a windowsill (the glass long since gone) and opened the first aid kit idly, keeping one eye on the three people in the back of the room.

Two men, one woman-and all three of them were stronger than her companions (she grimaced at the word "companions"; they were the least friendly people she could ever hope to work with). And they could probably take her out too, especially if they worked as a team.

They were all surprisingly short (as were most of the other people on this island), maybe four feet tall and burly, with some mean-looking guns held loosely at their sides. The guns she could likely avoid. Probably.

"Sorry about that, Carrow," Krupin began. "We got held up a bit on the way here."

"Not our problem," the man in the middle said. Deirdre assumed this was Carrow—he was dressed slightly better than his two companions, and had a bigger gun. There was a duffel bag on the floor beside him, probably filled with cash for the deal.

"No, of course not," Krupin backtracked. Deirdre could see him trying to figure out how to break the bad news about the pills.

"But, uh, we might have a different problem," he said. "During that holdup, uh…well, see for yourself." He gestured to the other five men, who were still carrying the pills in their shirts.

Carrow stalked over to the group, eyes narrowed as he took it all in.

"You mean to tell me," he started slowly, voice low and dangerous. "That you were not only late to our deal, but you only brought less than half the shipment?"

"I-it was this swordsman's fault," Krupin stammered. "He attacked us on our way here, even almost killed Doran here." he gestured to Deirdre, who was busy applying bandages to her wounds.

She rolled her eyes, but kept quiet. Better not risk saying something stupid.

"How unfortunate," Carrow said dryly. "I kept my part of the deal"—he motioned to the duffel bag—"and you've completely wasted my time. This won't be good for your reputation, I can tell you that."

Deirdre almost chuckled. What a day.

Krupin's attempts at explaining further were silenced by another sharp look from Carrow. Deirdre was impressed he seemed to recognize how dangerous this man was. Or maybe he just knew how much trouble he was going to be in if this deal went south.

"Here's what we're going to do," Carrow said. "You idiots are going to hand over your shipment like we agreed. In return, we'll let you walk away with your lives."

"If we go back without the money we're good as dead," Krupin argued, and Deirdre could see him preparing to attack.

Oh, this was gonna suck.

Still, a fight was a fight-she couldn't help but get a little excited, even as the bullets started flying.

It took Zoro much longer to find his way back to town—the fight must've disoriented him more than his usual lack of direction. Perona gave him an earful when he finally got back to the hotel ("Why are you covered in mud? Is that a rip in your clothes? Mihawk gave you that shirt, what would he think if he saw that? I swear, you're such a handful"), and he spent as little time as he had to inside. A quick shower and he was back to wandering the town—this time to find a nice sunny spot to nap in, or maybe a bar.

The sunny spot came into view first—a bench in the middle of a tiny park, with just the perfect amount of light. It called to him, and he answered, settling in with a contented sigh. Nothing like a nap in the middle of the day.

Unfortunately, the nap lasted all of a few minutes before he was disturbed.

"Hey, you!" a familiar voice cried close to his face, waking Zoro with a start. He opened his eye to see a girl about his age, plum-colored hair pulled into a high ponytail. She was bent over him genially, hands in the pockets of her cutoff overalls. There were a few bandages on her arms and legs, and one on her face, but it didn't seem to affect her. He stared blankly for a moment, not sure if he should recognize her or not.

She straightened, waving her hand in a placating gesture. "Sorry to wake you, but I just wanted to say thanks before I left. You really helped me out back there."

It clicked. "You're that dog, right?" Made sense. She was at least two feet taller than this island's strangely short native people, and the placement of the bandages seemed to match with the blows he'd landed during their 'fight.' Actually, there seemed to be more. Had she been in another fight since then?

"Well, yeah," she said, and glanced around at the empty street. "Though I prefer to keep it secret."

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Deirdre Doran."

Zoro shook it briefly, noticing the wide cloth wristband on her left arm. "Roronoa Zoro," he said slowly, watching for her reaction.

She looked at him blankly. "Huh. That name seems oddly familiar. Haven't met you anywhere before, have I?"

Zoro was speechless. He'd been certain she'd stiffen in shock, or beg forgiveness for daring to attack the Pirate Hunter, or something. Just what kind of backwater town did this girl come from?

"Well, I'm glad I met you again today. Is there anything I can do to pay you back?"

A refusal formed on his tongue, but she was still talking.

"—Maybe I could buy you a drink or something?"

"Yes," he said emphatically, and stood.

The pub was dim and musty, all dark wood and loud drunks. Deirdre and Zoro made their way easily to the bar, settling on a pair of stools by the wall. She took care to sit on his right side, in his line of vision. Her consideration both amused and annoyed him, but he could put up with it for now. After all, she was paying.

"Whiskey," he said to the bartender, a fat middle-aged man with a bored look on his face.

"Apple juice, please," Deirdre said, laying a few coins on the counter.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. "Beer tastes funny," she said simply.

The bartender set their glasses before them absentmindedly, and Deirdre frowned—both the flagons looked the same, contents and all.

"Whatever," she muttered, picking one and taking a sip. She made a face and pushed the flagon to Zoro. "Yours. Yuck."

He smirked and took it. She sucked down some of her juice, trying to get the taste of whiskey out of her mouth.

"So," he said after a moment, finally letting his curiosity get the best of him. "You going to tell me why you just attacked me earlier?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I suppose I should. I owe you a lot for earlier." She leaned her head back and chugged her juice, setting the cup down with a contented sigh.

That contentment quickly left her, though, and there was an odd look in her eyes. "I'm from an island a long way from here, in the New World. It's pretty isolated, but it used to be a fairly big mining industry there back before I was born. About five years ago a man named Popov came to our island." Her voice hardened, and she gripped her cup.

"He bought a lot of land, and revitalized the mine. Before long he was the richest man on the island, and half the people there are his employees, including me for the last three years.

"He hired me to cart stuff around and accompany shipments, because of my, uh-you know. Strengths. And it was all going great, until—" she furrowed her brow. "Until I realized just what I was transporting."

He waited, taking a slow sip.

"One day, about two years ago, while I was carting a fairly small shipment by myself, I—I heard crying. From inside the box."

She looked at him, torn. "He had me moving slaves. Slaves," she said quietly. "That's when it all hit me, you know. What was going on.

"I went to confront him—tried to quit, tried to call the Marines on him. But that bastard threatened to kill my little sisters if I didn't keep working for him."

Tension rolled off her in waves as she continued.

"So I kept going, but I've been trying to sabotage him as much as possible. I've smuggled some people into a bunker my dad built decades ago, and I've found a few ways to destroy the drugs without putting suspicion on myself. I wish I was strong enough to just kill him myself, head on. But Popov's a coward and a murderer, and if he even thinks I'm disobeying him, he'll kill my family.

"They're just kids. They're too young to die," she whispered, staring hard into her empty flagon.

Zoro finished his drink in silence, studying her face. Her thick brows were still knit together; dark eyes shining with unshed tears. Oh, no. She better not start crying. He never knew how to handle crying.

Much to his relief, she didn't—merely rubbed her eye with the heel of her palm and sat up straight again.

"So when I saw you in the woods, I just… I could feel how strong you were, and so I took a chance that if I fought you…"

"That I'd destroy the drugs for you," he finished. "Clever." She must have some kind of observation haki. It wasn't too long ago he'd developed his own talent at armament haki—Mihawk had tried to drill observation haki into him as well, but gave up after a while (saying, "I should have known you'd be unable to listen"). Well, Mihawk could go suck it. Here he was right now, listening to the problems of some stranger. A stranger who had bought him drinks, yes, but a stranger nonetheless.

"Heh. Thanks," she said, half smiling. "This is actually the third time I used that trick. Dunno how much more I can do it without someone catching on. Or dying."

She motioned at the bartender for a refill. "So thanks for playing along."

"Tch," he scoffed. "Yeah, playing."

She glanced at him. "What, so you weren't holding back? I coulda sworn you'd be stronger than that…" she mused.

A fight broke out behind them, but neither of them flinched. Deirdre looked over briefly, but turned back to him.

"Yes, I was holding back," Zoro replied, irritated both that she'd doubted his strength and that she'd looked away. "I could've killed you in an instant if I wanted to." Probably even less, if he'd been paying more attention.

"Okay, okay, I believe you." She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "So… why didn't you?"

He blinked, then stared into his cup for a moment. Why hadn't he?

"Curiosity, I guess." He downed the rest of his drink.

"Hm," she said absently, and gave no protest when Zoro motioned for a refill from the bartender.

He was halfway through finishing his second when Deirdre finally spoke again.

"So what about you, Zoro-kun?"

Her use of honorifics surprised him—her tomboyish appearance (or anything she'd done previously, really) hadn't given the impression that she cared about being polite.

"What about me?"

"Well, where do you come from? Why are you in the Grand Line?" Her previous anxious mood was gone, replaced with curiosity and questions. "What's your family like?"

That last question hit him harder than he expected as images of his crewmates flashed in his mind. Two years' worth of repressed homesickness suddenly washed over him, and he wished silently that they were back on the Sunny, so he could just turn and point to his crewmates and let Deirdre find out for herself. He didn't trust himself to speak for a minute, let alone find the words to describe them.

"I'm making my way back to my crew," he said slowly, after a long moment. "We were separated a couple years ago, but my captain told us to get back to our meeting place soon."

"Crew? D'you work on a ship?"

He smirked. "You could say that."

Deirdre leaned in conspiratorially. "Are you a pirate?"

She took his silent grin as a yes. Suddenly she grew excited, leaning even closer, an eager look on her face. "Which crew? Do you know the Nightcap Pirates?"

He blinked in surprise. Most people didn't react so happily to pirates.

"Uh, no," he said. "Should I?"

Deirdre frowned in disappointment and sat back again. "Probably not. They're not in the big leagues anymore. Used to be, though. Back about… let's see… twenty-five years ago?"

"When Roger was still around, right?"

"Yeah. My mom was the first mate, but she gave it up and eloped with my old man. She used to tell me stories about her pirate days." A softer, almost dreamy look entered her eyes, and Zoro could see that she was remembering kinder times. She smiled softly, and then shook her head as if to dispel the mood.

"So," she said briskly. "You never said which crew you're on."

"Probably isn't wise," he replied.

She frowned. "Probably not. Still wanna know, though."

He glanced sidelong at her, finishing his drink once again.

"Just pay attention to the news. You'll see me soon enough."

Deirdre gave him a searching, dissatisfied look, but seemed to accept his words. "Well, if your crew ever comes to my island, you'll be welcome at my house."

"I'll make sure to tell my captain that."

Their boat arrived early the next morning, just before sunrise. Perona crossed the gangplank first, walking sleepily with her pack slung over one shoulder. Zoro followed, gaze set on the horizon.

He would be home soon.