This is a thing kellermarie (mugiwaramarimo) gave me an Iidea for a while back. I am taking prompts for this on here and on my tumblr. They're just some short, fun drabbles, following the Strawhats after Roronoa Zoro was somehow turned into an otter.
Zoro butted at his swords, bumping at them with his nose as he shunted them, one by one, along the ground. His haramaki was gone, quite literally. It had vanished the moment he'd puffed up in blue smoke and this had happened. He chattered his teeth in irritation at his current predicament. That being that he had only so many hours of daylight left and a lot of ground to cover whilst shoving his katana one at a time in front of him. His legs ached and his nose throbbed from mushing his face up against the hilts over and over but, in retrospect, that was the least of his worries.
It had become very apparent to him that he was no longer Roronoa Zoro, ex-pirate hunter, Demon of East Blue, and renowned and feared swordsman of the Santoryuu style. But, rather, Roronoa Zoro, the very tired sword fighter with a very sore nose. Oh, and the fact that he was an otter.
Yes. An otter. He was the full works with a long lithe body, floppy rounded ears, whiskery cheeks, a small dark eye, short stumpy legs with pudgy paws and a long, broad tail that simply insisted on wiggling despite his willing it not only hints that he had ever been his original self were the array of battle scars most predominantly on his chest, left eye, and the thick ankles of his stubby back legs, combine with the odd tuft of garishly green fur on top of his little head. The only way one would know that this was indeed Roronoa Zoro was if they looked long and hard. His abdominal muscles which were once firm and neatly cut were replaced by a soft and chubby belly with thick fur and all his limbs were dumpy and nowhere near as powerful as their predecessors.
He tried to sigh but it came out as a sad whine which irritated him greatly and turned into an indignant squeak that sounded more cute than annoyed. He internally refused to make anymore noises and continued diligently nosing his weapons which were three times the size of him now ahead of him. He had tried to drag them along in his mouth and paws but Wado's handle was too large to fit in his jaws comfortably and he couldn't quite get the toes of his paws to hold the other two just right. Nose bumping, though painful, proved an easier method of transport.
He was heading for the Sunny. It was only logical. Hopefully Chopper had some cure for whatever kind of witchcraft hoodoo had happened to him and he'd be back in his normal body in no time. There was nothing Chopper couldn't cure, he was certain.
He chirped unhappily. For some reason, he was craving water right now. To feel it soak in his fur and push against his little webbed toes. He wanted to submerge his face in it and dive down into the depths. He didn't just want water, he needed it.
Oh boy, the shitty cook was going to have a field trip out of this one. He chattered his teeth angrily at the thought of having to listen to the stupid blond's stupid insults and not have a voice of his own to talk back in.
He flared his nose at the thought, wrinkling his snout. Stupid cook. Chopper had better be able to cure this.