Zoro was short. He couldn't possibly be more than three foot five.
Looking down at his body he noticed how tattered and dirty his clothing was. His tiny hands were caked with a layer of dust from whatever it was he had been doing before. He stuck to the outer edge of the bustling village street where he found himself. All manner of carts, people, horses. The place felt weirdly familiar. He hadn't been there in a long, long time.
He was making the most intimidating face he could come up with. He kicked a pebble straight ahead as he walked on. People would glance at him occasionally. Some indifferently, others looked away in a panic. A hint of what he would come to recognize as pure sadness on their faces.
"WATR YOU STARING AT? Move along!" He shouted.
Why was his voice so high pitched, and small?
He heard the womanly screech of agony from the church again. Clear as a hideous day, it had jolted him straight out of bed onto the deck with his triple-sword cases in-hand. He looked all around, only to see nothing. Almost instantly upon having scanned the ship's deck, he sprinted on toward Nami and Robin's room.
"ROBIN!"
"NAMI!"
"You heard that noise right? Is everything good in here?"
No answer…
He felt sickly, as his heart shot up into his throat.
Zoro shouted from out of the hall through their door, before pushing the handle down and opening the room door.
"I'M COMING IN."
He saw now that the women were sleeping peacefully in their beds among their decorative souvenirs, their vanity equipment, Robin's classical artwork hung unassumingly on the wall in the night air. Just as it always did.
He couldn't help noticing for the shortest of moments that yes, Nami was indeed quite pretty in such a relaxed and unthreatening state.
On the other hand, Robin… Made her meticulous hanging still life oil paintings look like worthless gutter-trash. The moonlight which fell through a nearby window brought out the planes of her face in a mesmerizing pale blue. Her hair was taking on a more vivid blue shine. Locks of hair ran down the contours of her shoulders and collar like an elegant river stream in a mountainside. He couldn't allow himself to get too enthralled by that, or in how clean, well-cared for and soft her skin looked. The sensual, pink fullness of her lips had to also be repressed into a corner of his mind, too. He needed to stay alert. As he closed the door to the girls' room behind him, the cacophonous noise went off again.
Zoro scanned the ship's hall, ran again as fast as he could, got back on deck. Nothing. The ship's masts? There was nothing suspect about them either. Nothing on the sides of the ship. He decided to make his way back to the shore of the island.
That was where he found her.
The night air felt both claustrophobic and agoraphobic simultaneously‒ inexplicably. The silence was now deafening.
A dissheveled black bobcut. She wore plain, gender neutral clothing. This child was sitting on a piece of rocky terrain which separated the start of the cliffs surrounding the nearby village. In front of her was the beach sand, at which she was picking with her wooden practice sword. How the hell is this possible? The Swordsman thought. She looked way too much like… Like.. There's no way.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" He shouted.
The child didn't seem to notice.
He knew it was her. It didn't look like anybody else in the universe.
"OI, I'M TALKING TO YOU!"
His second attempt fell flat as well.
He felt an engrossing shock. Every muscle in his body tensed, as he produced a noise that was a sort of marriage of a retch and a gasp. There was definitely a katana going through his midsection, the pain seared him to his core, right before he felt completely numb. As he endured the unfortunately well-known sensation of a blade carving its way through his muscles. He felt like the raw chicken breast he'd watched Sanji slice through a few weeks ago. Zoro just barely managed to hold himself up by his legs until the sharpened blade had exited his flesh again, leaving him to tumble onto the sand. His breathing weighed several tons, as he looked up at who it was had been standing on his side.
That swordswoman from Loguetown and Punk Hazard…
"Leave her alone." She commanded.
As angry at him as usual.
"WHAT IN HELL IS GOING ON?!" He managed to hiss.
That's when he woke up again. This time he knew he was no longer dreaming.