It was the spring of 1854. Japan was under heavy military pressure by the great powers of the West to open its ports to foreign trade and influence. Negotiations under gunpoint were being held at the time, and the political tension was thick and heavy. The Americans were brashly demanding that they be allowed into the country, with similar demands being made by the British, French, and Russians. Against the most powerful navies in the world, there was little hope for the little archipelago.

Of course, very little of this affected the common folk. They were proud of their country and loyal to their emperor, but the fact that these foreigners were pushing their way into the country didn't bother them much yet. It wasn't unusual to see the occasional European pop up in the capital once in a while, even if they did mysteriously disappear days after appearing.

One group of people was interested, however. The Mugiwara Clan of the Kyoto Prefecture was very interested in the fact that the ancient blockade imposed on travel in and out of the country could be lifted.

The street was unusually quiet, even for midnight. Normally, bright paper lanterns and fluttering flags would beckon those seeking entertainment, and women would call softly from the windows while men cheerfully waved in passerby. However, tonight cannons had been heard from the distant harbors (although on such a small island, the sea was never very far). It had been a long time since violence had disturbed the area, and many were fearful that the streets would be dangerous tonight.

Still, business was business, and Black Leg Sanji was not about to let a few rounds of ammunition close his restaurant down.

Sanji stood by the door of the Baratie, striking a match against the wall to light the pipe that hung from his mouth. He inhaled deeply, looking around for any customers before sighing in defeat. It would definitely be slow tonight. He shook his head grimly, knowing that it wasn't just the cannon fire that would affect the flow of business. His blond hair stood out starkly from the sea of black and brown in Japan, and although he had been born in the country, he wasn't sure of his parentage. Even after being adopted by the Mugiwara Clan and becoming a respectable member of society, it was still unnerving for the people to consort with him or his adopted sister Nami when the penalty for harboring foreigners was death.

"Sanji-kun! Come inside, it's late," Nami called, her mikan-hued hair burning bright in the night. Sanji looked up and beamed.

"Hai, Nami-san, I'll be right up." He puffed on the tobacco that was in his pipe, making the best of it. Looking around one last time in the hopes of seeing a customer, he was about to go inside when he saw a figure stooping by the side of the narrow road, crawling towards him. Sanji shivered, wondering if it was the ghost of his neighbor's son that had died two years ago. However, he saw that the approaching figure seemed to be wearing a bright green hat, and was clutching his side in pain.

"Hey, are you alright there?" Sanji asked, walking cautiously to the figure that had just collapsed against the wall. He peered at the prone figure and gasped when he saw a small pool of blood gathering under him. "Oh, shit! You need a doctor!"

The man shuddered and looked up, grinned, and blacked out.

---

Ugh, my side…

"Chopper, do you think he'll be alright?" Was that a woman's voice? There hadn't been any women on his ship.

"Well, I managed the remove the bullet fragments, but he needs rest." There was a kid, too. Why was there a kid…? "Sanji, could you make some tea with these herbs? They'll help fight against infection."

"Sure thing, Chopper. Tell me if he needs any special food or anything. Maybe he's been eating something weird to get that green hair." That gravelly voice definitely ground into his head in the most unpleasant manner, and he was glad when the man's footsteps receded out of the room.

The man on the bed opened his eyes slowly, resisting the urge to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes when his body protested.

"W-where am I?" he groaned, trying to rise despite the pain.

"Don't try to get up, or you'll open up the wound I just stitched shut," Chopper said. His voice held the commanding imperiousness of a doctor, and his furry hands pushed Zoro back onto the bed. "How are you feeling?"

The man groaned. "I've been better, but I've been worse, too."

The woman with the red hair suddenly wore a very business-like expression. "Alright, then. Time to ask some questions. You're obviously not from around here, even if your face looks like you could be from Okinawa. Who are you?"

The man leaned back with a sigh. "My name's Zoro l'Ollonais." When they stared at him, he groaned and repeated himself. "I think you'd just call me Roronoa Zoro around here."

"L'Ollonais isn't a Japanese name. Where do you come from? Chopper, we could be executed just for treating him," Nami said reproachfully.

Zoro snorted. "Hrmph. It doesn't matter where I die. I was the captain of the ship Forte Rhum coming along for negotiations at Kanagawa. However, apparently this country has some 'shoot first, ask later' policy about foreign ships, because we were sunk without any warning at all. My men were picked off as we tried to swim ashore, and when I saw that I was the last one left, I just started moving inland until I couldn't move anymore."

"So you're French, then," Nami's voice was flat and hostile.

"Technically, yes," Zoro responded, apparently annoyed by her hostility. "Look, I only came to support the French so I could come back home."

"Home?" Chopper asked, looking curious.

"Yeah. Japan is my home, believe it or not. That's a long story, though."

"Chopper, the tea is ready," Sanji walked in, carrying a tray that clinked with porcelain cups and a blue pot. "Oh, so he's up? I have a few questions of my own."

"Let him drink, first," Chopper interjected, scurrying over to the chef and relieving him of the tray.

"Nah, I'll answer your questions. You guys did pick me up from the street, after all. My name's Roronoa Zoro, by the way. You guys are…?"

Sanji peered at Zoro curiously. "I'm Sanji. That lovely woman sitting beside you is Nami, and the furry little doctor is Chopper. First things first, who are you?" Zoro opened his mouth, obviously not pleased at repeating himself. "I could hear about you being captain of that French ship, but there's something odd I'd like to know. What is a French naval captain doing with a set of Japanese katana? Three, as a matter of fact."

Zoro sat bolt upright, spilling the tea that sat in his lap. "My swords! Do you have them?"

Sanji jumped in shock at the reaction. "Yeah, they're leaning against the wall. Why?"

"Give them to me, and I'll answer your questions."

Zoro held the swords lovingly in his hands, drew one, and began cleaning it. The saltwater bath hadn't been good for them at all. "This is the hairy part. I was born in Japan, grew up here, and was planning on opening up my own dojo. However, when I was sailing to a competition, I found myself…er…lost." He blushed furiously. "I knew that if the government found out that I had left the country, I'd be done for, so I just kept going wherever. I eventually ended up in China and then found my way to France. I stayed there, knowing that if I stayed in a country as powerful as that then eventually I'd find my way home."

"You got lost and managed to travel halfway across the world?" Sanji looked extremely incredulous.

"It's just this thing, okay? Don't mock me."

Nami sighed. "Well, you're already here, so it won't do us any good to kick you out now that you know our names. We'll take you to meet the Head when you're feeling up to it."

"The Head?"

Chopper grinned, clapping his hands gleefully. "He's so cool, you just have to meet him!" Suddenly, Chopper did an about face. "By the way…why is your hair green?"

Zoro turned an even deeper shade of maroon. "It's just…this thing. When all there was to eat while sailing was floating kelp, something's bound to turn green."