there's a lot of queer/trans headcanons and worldbuilding in this fic, just as a warning. if that's cool with you, i hope you enjoy the blood, sweat, and tears i've put into this thing!


The little black numbers etched on Zoro's left wrist are typically only the subject of his focus before he falls asleep. They wind down silently to zero, as they have all his life, but he finds that he doesn't care much about what's waiting for him at zero hour. Some people are happy when they meet their soul mates; others not quite as joyed.

Soul mates and love isn't a source of daydreams for Zoro, and its always been that way. But still, there's something both calming and exciting about watching the numbers tick, tick, tick their way down.

Robin and Nami have long since reached their own zero, clicking together like two magnets. Its actually endearing to see them together, how well they actually work with one another. It must be nice to have a partner that immediately seems to know you so thoroughly that you can waltz and breathe and be around one another without practice.

Luffy's own ticker kept resetting with the meeting of their crew; Zoro was first and he was surprised when he heard the little tell-tale yelp of shock from the other. But their tickers reset just a short while later. Nami came next; Usopp and Sanji, Chopper and Robin and Franky and Brook all followed.

Its common enough — people being platonic soul mates, or people having more than one. Luffy just happened to have many of the platonic sort.

00:26:37.

Getting real close. Zoro finds it sort of strange, how the ticker winds down in conjunction with his meeting up with his crew on Sabaody again. He's more excited for the reuniting of the Straw Hats, that's for sure. Thinking of them makes a pang rise in his gut, missing them, wondering how they've grown and changed.

He can remember the shape of Nami's laugh, Chopper's bashfulness at compliments, the way that Brook's music curled around them all heady and sweet, and brought them all together to sing. Luffy's resolve has been etched into him. He misses fighting with them, against them, for them.

Zoro's anticipation makes him toss and turn, checking his wrist again. He's begun to see it more as a countdown to see his crew again, and it dawns on him that its a real possibility. That he might have needed to test his mettle, weighing it against time and promise, before seeing them again as soulmates.

00:26:29.

Some part of him hopes he doesn't catch the eye of a Tenryuubito when his ticker hits bottom.

Zoro drops his arm from where it hovers in the air and he rolls over in the hammock. Exhaustion makes itself known in the dark, boat swaying and splashing around him; he dreams what he dreams just about every night.


Perona — for all her flaws — isn't a terrible navigator. She's no Nami, but through the lens of the eyeglass, Zoro can see Sabaody. He had his doubts, and Gods is he glad they were unfounded. He nods to her, thanks and acknowledgment, standing towards the front of the boat on a blessedly clear day.

They're silent, and its odd. The past two years have been odd, difficult, but especially the last week on Kuraigana. He'd gotten used to Mihawk, to Perona, as strange as the arrangement was. Though he learned to move and breathe around them, they weren't his crew.

His parting with Mihawk amounted to, "come take my head when you're ready, Roronoa". There was no tearful departure, no embrace — not that either were expected. And it left an odd, bitter taste in his mouth, a heavy feeling in his heart, but it was all right.

It felt settled, but not final.

Perona's hands curl around the lip of the bow, parasol folded and strapped to her back. She sucks in a deep breath, a sharp inhale that Zoro usually takes as a cue to cover his ears. But she exhales — waits one beat, two, three — and turns her head to him.

"I'm only going to say this once, Roronoa Zoro." she says; her tone is rigid and slightly clipped, but it gives way to something softer, more vulnerable, "You give them hell out in the New World, okay?"

Zoro is quite nearly taken aback by this — this admission of her faith and this lowering of her guard. He lowers his head just slightly, catches her eye. The quiet call deserves respect, he feels, especially with their propensity to bickering.

"Yeah. We will."

Quiescence falls around and through them again, carrying them the rest of the way to Sabaody.


Punctuality isn't something Zoro can claim often, but he's more than that upon showing up to Sabaody. This is a fact that registers as something to be proud of — he who fucks up, gets lost, is late, is now number one. Shakky and Rayleigh have told him as much.

It just so happens, however, that being number one means he's also remarkably lonely and bored. There's no one to fight with, no songs to sing or games to play or chores to do. That'll come in time, of course, but the others sure are taking their sweet time — or maybe its that he's too impatient.

He wanders the groves aimlessly — which isn't the best idea, given his tendency to get lost — and hours wind down. His boredom brings him closer and closer to the coast, getting it in his head that fishing will burn down the remaining time just fine.

Perona went off to do her own thing, of course. Shopping to do, souvenirs to get for Mihawk.

He ends up having a conversation with a busy fisherman at the edge of the grove, telling him he'd like to join in to kill time.

Zoro gets on the boat to wait, and he thinks. He drifts. Gets to see his crew again, soon … What if Chopper turns out to be the most little badass fighter of them all … What if Brook's 'fro got even bigger … What if Sanji —

"Oi! Who the hell are you … ?!"

The shout rouses him from his sleep, hand finding its way immediately to Sandai Kitetsu. There's a group of scruffy-looking individuals surrounding him on the boat, appearing to be very much pissed off at his presence. Zoro takes his time getting up, making it apparent he can unsheath his swords at any moment. He'd only need one, frankly.

"I wanted to do some fishing." he says calmly.

"So you conked out on deck?!" the spokesperson barks. He's this big looking guy with a black shirt and a mess of hair, cutlass at his waist. Zoro takes the time to look around at their surroundings — they're underwater and sinking fast.

Must be a coated ship. Sure enough, if he looks up, he can see the film of the coating surrounding the ship like a bubble. Huh.

The sight of the ocean under its surface is absolutely breathtaking. The bubble roof makes Zoro feel like he's floating out in it, a little unsafe. Fish and sea kings swim around the roots of the groves, unseen by its inhabitants.

"The fisherman told me to wait." he says, once he's done admiring.

"Wrong boat, jackass!"

"Oh."

Irritation rears its ugly head, and it roars when the tools start to advance on him. They shout something about cutting his throat and throwing his body overboard for the sea kings to eat. Yeah, bullshit. He'll end this quick.

Zoro unsheathes Kitetsu, feeling the familiar weight of him, the viciousness, in his palm. His urging him to end it quick and bloody. Use what you learned.

And so he does.

He moves, shooting out into stance, finding his center. The crowd of pirates moves, too, yelling their battle cries and falling down upon him.

He takes out most of them with the back of his sword in mere moments, except for the tenacious ones, who get cut across the chest and arms. Its when they're fallen that he stands at the center, blood coating the metal of the blade. But he does not slide it home.

"Where were you going with this ship?" he asks one of them. He's flat on his back, bleeding from his wound, fright evident. Zoro points the blade at him.

"F … Fishman Island,"

"Consider this a mercy, then."

He still only needs one sword for the task. It occurs to him just how far he's grown; he wouldn't have been able to rend a ship in half with just one sword two years ago on the same Archipelago.

The wood and coating splits under his blade, clean through both; he holds his breath and the ship rises, tilting, bringing them up to the surface. Feeling pissed off at the prospect of being soaked all the way through, he looks to the shore. Its not exactly an easy task getting from the split ship to the grove, but he manages, shaking himself off as best as he can.

"There you are, you fucking idiot!" calls someone, about twelve yards off at his ten.

He'd recognize that voice anywhere — Zoro looks up from his feet to the source of the voice.

There's Sanji, fists balled up at his sides and looking as ridiculous as ever. The only thing that's seemed to change is how he parts his hair and something resembling a beard on his chin. Zoro rolls his eye, draws a little closer to his nakama.

"Don't bark at me, it could have happened to … anyone …"

His voice trails off; there's a tell-tale thrum across his wrist and the feeling of dread welling up in his chest. The sensation that follows can only be described as a sort of click, a swell, a chorus in his head. Its not exactly fond, but its loud, just words and impressions and emotions in a sickening, nausea-inducing whirlwind — Sanji! There you are. Soul mate. Happyreliefsafedreaddreaddread.

He catches himself looking between Sanji and his own wrist — the former looks not shocked and pissed anymore, but horrified, like Zoro had just single-handedly slaughtered the rest of their nakama in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The numbers at his wrist have turned red, reading 00:00:00.

And then they fade.

It feels like a new section has just opened up in his brain, pathways that were always there but have only just been deemed accessible. He, heaven help him, feels like he wants to embrace and care for Sanji as much as he wants to punch his lights out for insulting him.

It is not a comfortable divide. Zoro feels pissed off, he feels robbed.

"You … You too?" is all Sanji can manage; fuck, he's shaking. It just makes that awful, new "be okay/fuck off and die" duality louder in his head. Hell, even at the back of his brain he can read Sanji's emotions like he knows him thoroughly. Sanji is experiencing much more of a crisis than Zoro, panic and desperation mixing with the anger they share, which strikes him as odd.

It also strikes him as infuriating.

"Yeah, me fuckin' too!"

"Where the hell do you get off yelling at me like this is my fault? You moron!" he snaps, righting his posture; a steady stream of curses in his North Blue mother tongue escapes before he switches back to his accented Common, "Like I can do something about this? 'Cause, trust me, I would!"

There's a waver in Sanji's voice that tells Zoro's there's something really wrong here, on a different level than being zeroed in with one's long-time rival.

"All right, I hear you, shut the fuck up." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He breathes, tries to clear his mind, but he can detect the storm just worsening in Sanji's mind. "Would you calm down?"

"No, I can't." the waver worsens, "I'm leaving. I don't care if you get lost again. I don't care if you get on the Sunny again."

Lie, his brain tells him. This is really starting to mess with Zoro; its odd, its uncomfortable in ways their rivalry hasn't touched before, its out of character. Two years must have really screwed Sanji up.

"You're fucking — you're what?" he demands, disbelief, "Leaving? Pussy."

Sanji's facial expression hardens, gritting his teeth in anger. He parts without another word, quick strides taking him far away, and fast. Zoro just stares after him with that same disbelief. He's soaked, he's irritable, he wants to get back to the Sunny to sleep. But he keeps moving.