I wrote this because I wanted to see all my favorite One Piece characters in a fantasy/sci-fi novel. Basically, Zoro is a (mostly) normal kid who runs into this weird curly-brow and gets pulled into a crazy adventure. It's kind of written like the origin story of modern AU strawhats. More chapters to come!
Chapter 1: Once upon an alleyway
A hasty afternoon breeze swirled the orange and red leaves above the sidewalk, plastering the fallen crinkly souls against the legs of pedestrians. One pedestrian in particular, a scowling fourteen-year-old swimming in a black Korn hoodie, seemed to glare at the wind as if blaming the natural rhythm of the world. His gait was rather uneven, evoking the image of inebriation, but, in reality, he was just focused on obliterating every crunchy leaf that the sole of his green-sharpied converses could find. In fact, he was concentrating so hard that he had no time to react when a small black blur bolted into him from an alleyway.
The Korn fan spun once before wobbling straight. "Asshole, wa-" he started to snarl before his eyes focused on the blur, now a kid his age sprawled on top of the gutter that pierced the seam between street and alley. The lithe form spasmed in a violent cough. Bits of mud, and something red, broke loose from his dull yellow hair and fluttered to the ground. "Shit man, are you okay?" The Korn fan was in the middle of crouching down to help the guy up when a leg whipped out of nowhere and slammed into his head. His mouth formed a comical "o" as he skidded a few feet before landing on his ass with a muffled thud. The heat of his anger melted away his previous look of concern, and he staggered to his feet to give the punk a piece of his mind. However, the blonde boy was already sprinting off, the Korn fan's middle finger only a fleeting memory.
The Korn fan, whose name, by the way, was Roronoa Zoro, brushed off his butt and stuck his earphones back in. Just as he was about to continue walking home, the thunder of engines alerted him to leap out of the way as three men on motorcycles roared out of the alley. They skidded to a stop, exhaust fumes curling around their uniforms, which were emblazoned with GERMA66. Zoro suddenly had a bright idea. "Hey, you guys looking for that blonde brat? He went that way. Kick his ass for me." Zoro pointed confidently in the direction in which he thought the kid had run. The motorcyclists nodded to each other and hit the gas, disappeared quickly down the street. "You're welcome!" Zoro whistled cheerfully.
"Zanks, I owe you, ahnd sorry about errhlier." Zoro froze when a voice with a nasally accent called out from behind him. When he turned around, his worst fears were confirmed.
"Nani!? But, those guys, they went, wow, that was fast, you sure showed them up," Zoro babbled, trying to figure out how the kid had ended up back here.
The blonde narrowed his eyes. "Arrre you mocking me?"
"Nah, why bother when the mirror does it every morning." It slipped out before Zoro could catch himself, his annoyance at landing on his ass earlier starting to return.
An indecipherable string of foreign words erupted from the blonde's mouth.
"Sorry, don't speak dumbass," Zoro retorted, looking away pointedly.
The foreigner's face boiled from pale, albeit dirt-smudged, to rage red. Before he could respond, however, the distant rumble of motorcycle engines sent a shiver of fear racing through his body. "Come one, allons-y!" The kid grabbed Zoro's hand and dragged him into the alley. Zoro could only stare, dumbfounded, at the long, slim fingers gripping his strong, tan ones until they were released and the two were crouching together under a rusted iron fire escape. He tugged at the strings of his hoodie to hide a light brush. His attention, however, was soon drawn to the center of the alleyway, where the cyclists had dismounted and were arguing among themselves in the same garbled tongue as the blonde. After a few agonizing minutes, they were gone. The kid raised a finger to his lips and waited another minute or two before crawling out of the cramped space. Once out, Zoro grunted, "dude" before twisting his hips sharply to pack his entire body's force into a solid punch on the guy's face. The blonde spun a bit but managed to wobble to his feet, gingerly probing his already swollen jaw.
"There, now we're even. Wait, did I go too hard? It looks like I messed up your eyebrows. Oh, wait, they were like that befOOOF!" A black dress shoe slammed into his gut, knocking his wind out and hood off.
The other burst out into laughter. "Verde? What are you—a sick plant? Is your brrhrain so empty you grrrow grrass zere?" Zoro quickly pulled his hood back on. "Yeah, I don't owe you anymorrre. You arre just a faggerrr."
Zoro's jaw dropped. "A, a what did you just called me?"
A flicker of uncertainty passed over the blonde's face. "A faggerrr. Somebody who fags. A mozzerfagger."
"It's fucker, dumbass. Fag means something else. Wow, you really are slow."
"You'rre the slow one, I can kill you in one shot." The blonde leapt forward, starting to spin his leg to gain momentum, but a violent cough bubbled up from his lungs and he tripped over his feet instead, landing on his head.
"Are you unconscious? Are you fagging kidding me? Fucking! Shit. Fucking." Zoro was glad he did all those workouts with his godfather as he lifted the kid up and hoisted him over his shoulders. With that, he trudged off towards his home or the police station—whichever came first.