Eye of the Tiger - Survivor (1982)


November 2, 1988. Thursday. 1:32 p.m. Leaving East Blue.

Zoro watched the city roll past him, faster and faster as the train sped from the station, his mind drifting back to the day he'd made the decision to leave the East Blue, now that it was really happening.

It had been early, on an unsuspecting Monday morning. He had been preparing himself to leave Orange Town's small fighting arena, when a man, dressed oddly formal in a black suit and top hat, had halted him and smoothly handed Zoro a sealed envelope, then disappeared as if he'd never been there.

Inside was the invitation to the Battle Royale.

And it was because of that envelope that he was on this train, on the way to an unfamiliar town with the thought of that invitation in his mind, the one that would change his life.

Zoro found himself thinking about the days that were to come. How different they'd be compared to his usual routine here in the East Blue.

He'd be doing what he loved every day from now on.

But he'd be alone. Traveling alone. He wouldn't see any familiar faces, whether it was someone he was close to like Nami, or simply a face he recognized, like the cashier at his local grocery store.

He had no idea what his destination would be like, not really. He knew what the city looked like and what it contained, through pictures and maps. But he knew it would be a completely different experience to actually be there himself.

The thought of having to roam a new unfamiliar city mindlessly, actively looking for each stop he had to take, already fueled him with dread. He usually knew his own hometown like the back of his hand, except on the occasions he still had trouble getting from point A to point B.

Not that he had no sense of direction. It wasn't his fault the buildings seemed to move.

Nami came to mind. He wouldn't have brought her along, but he knew she would have definitely helped him find his way through the city, even if she had her own mean way of doing so. He'd lost track of the number of bumps he'd received on his head, all from Nami's enraged fist after punching him for getting her directions incorrect.

Coming to realize he had been rubbing his palm against the top of his head subconsciously, Zoro immediately stopped and shook his head lightly.

Suddenly, the static from the train's speakers crackled loudly.

"Now arriving at Foosha City."

And true to those words, the train smoothly began slowing down as the engines puffed resoundingly and the brakes screeched, finally pulling the vehicle to a complete halt, dragging Zoro's body slightly forward as it did.

Soon enough, the doors slid open and, once again, people made their way off as others got on. The flow continued for a few minutes until the conductor announced the doors would be closing soon and named their next stop.

Those who had boarded were now comfortable in the spots they'd chosen to sit, the sound of commotion and movement dying down into a calmer lull.

And in that moment, just before the doors closed, a man hopped through into the train, his sandaled feet slapping against the floor, the backpack he had with him doing the same to his back.

"Yosh! I made it just in time!" he declared to seemingly no one, laughing.

No one, however, found it amusing, certainly not Zoro, as he raised an eyebrow at the loud man. He took in the stranger's appearance, instantly noting that he appeared to be about the same age as him, dressed just as casually. He wore a dark red, wrinkled T-shirt along with some dull-colored jeans, the length looking to be a size too big as the fabric pooled slightly at his feet where he wiggled his bare toes.

But what Zoro keenly noticed, atop the black tousled hair the man had, was a straw hat, a strange accessory he had never seen before.

Zoro's initial thought wavered, the swordsman wondering, thanks to that hat, if the kid wasn't younger than him after all. The more he watched him, the more he noticed the guy's big round eyes, giving him an innocent look, his wide grin hinting just a little bit of immaturity. But it was offset by the wicked scar that tore its way across his face, beneath his left eye in a jagged white line.

The swordsman frowned, quirking a brow at the injury, long-healed, or so it appeared, but still an uncommon sight, so brazenly obvious as it was.

It was no shock to Zoro exactly. He'd seen plenty of grisly injuries thanks to his sport, the training circles he normally associated with.

And so he wondered…

Perhaps he wasn't the only one heading to Water 7…

Then, the man glanced Zoro's way.

The toothy grin he wore turned into a closed smile as he locked eyes with Zoro.

For a moment, it looked as though he was contemplating sitting next to Zoro.

But, ultimately, he decided against it as he gave Zoro one more peculiar smile before turning away and walking towards another passenger car.

Watching his retreating form, Zoro thought nothing more of the man as he instead reached over into his duffel bag to pull out his Walkman, connecting his headphones to the cassette player and placing the headpiece over his ears.

With a press of his thumb, Zoro clicked the play button and relaxed once more against the back of his seat, letting Eye of the Tiger internally prepare him for what he was soon to endure.


4:20 p.m. Water 7 Station.

All it took was one small step onto the hectic platform of the Water 7 train station to know he was definitely not in East Blue anymore.

It was November indeed, as was very much evident in East Blue, but not as much so here in Water 7, the air warm, without the brisk chill that rolled in with the wind in his hometown.

Before he began searching for the place he needed to go, Zoro's first order of business was to get the hell out of this train station. He hardly had the opportunity to fucking walk peacefully without some idiot in a rush bumping into him. He knew it was understandable and typical, given the setting, but that didn't stop it from being downright annoying.

So, grabbing his things once more, he blindly exited the train and moved through the crowded station until he somehow made it onto the sidewalk outside, where he was finally able to reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a small slip of paper.

Written on it was the name of his hotel, in Nami's smooth, elegant handwriting. He quickly noted the name and flipped the paper over.

Also drawn neatly, was a small map, containing a few arrows advising him to go left and right, beginning from his spot at the train station where she'd drawn a big green dot, signifying "Zoro."

In the corner of the slip, were the unwelcome words, 'Don't get lost.'

Zoro let out a snort at this, a little grateful, but mostly annoyed at Nami's irritating directions. Somehow, she always knew how to give him a hard time, even when she wasn't in his presence.

Lifting a finger, Zoro pressed it against the dot on the paper and moved it forward, tracing over the first arrow Nami drew, which was telling him to cross the street and then go straight, deeper into the city itself.

Maybe if he followed her directions for a little bit, he could figure out where the real shortcuts were. The ones that would surely take him all the way to-

"...the East Blue."

Zoro jumped in his spot, the swordsman swiftly turning to face the unexpected voice that had sounded just a few inches to his right. Meeting instantly familiar round eyes and that straw hat, Zoro realized that the voice belonged to the same man he had seen briefly on the train, who had jumped into the car at the last minute.

"The fuck-?" he spat in confusion, staring at the guy with a raised eyebrow. Zoro's slightly pissed-off expression didn't seem to faze the man as he hurriedly looked Zoro up and down, from his hair, to his face, and then finally to the case at his feet.

Then his eyes sparkled.

"I knew it! You're Zoro Roronoa, Demon of the East Blue, aren'tcha?" the man questioned excitedly, hardly giving Zoro the chance to respond. "I'm Luffy D. Monkey, nice to meet you!" He dove in for Zoro's unoccupied hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Okay..." Zoro trailed off awkwardly, retracting his hand slowly in bewilderment.

"What'cha doing here in Water 7? Got another competition?" Luffy asked, manic grin having settled into a fond smile as he looked at Zoro curiously, seemingly eager to talk to him.

Zoro frowned, wondering how this random guy was aware of the fact that he fought in competitions, not to mention his hated nickname. In the East Blue, it was rare for someone to recognize him outside of his sport's circle.

Not wanting to reveal exactly the type of competition, he decided to keep quiet.

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"I got one too. I'm gonna start kicking some ass tomorrow." He laughed, punching the air a few times as if to demonstrate. "Where are ya staying at?"

Oh, right. His hotel.

Zoro raised the map still in his hand and glanced down at it, his answer spilling from his mouth before he had time to stop himself.

"At a hotel little further up. Dressrosa or som-"

"Dressrosa!? Me too!" he chirped. "We can be roommates! So we gotta go there together."

The next thing Zoro knew, Luffy was hanging off his shoulder, peering at his map in close proximity and invading his space as if they hadn't only met properly moments ago.

His finger jabbed into the thin paper with nearly enough force to punch a hole through it, the digit tracing Nami's mess of directional arrows to the final circled location mere inches away, though it was surely freaking miles in real life, Zoro thought.

"That's the hotel?" Luffy asked, voice ringing in Zoro's ear.

Still, the swordsman merely huffed and nodded.

"Yeah," he grumbled, leaning his head away when dark hair rubbed directly against his cheek.

Luffy made a soft noise of contemplation, despite Zoro beginning to think the kid incapable of such advanced thought.

But his assumptions were almost immediately proven correct when Luffy exclaimed, "It's like a treasure hunt! Come on!"

And then a hand clamped down on Zoro's wrist, nearly ripping his arm from the socket as Luffy dragged him forward suddenly.

The boy tugged him to the edge of the curb where he leaned out precariously, checking for traffic that was definitely still coming on the busy street in front of the train station.

A blur of shapes whizzed by, peppered with the yellow of taxis and the neutrals of passenger cars.

Zoro turned his head to glance irritably at the clearly green traffic light down the block.

"Oi, you know there's a crosswa-"

But his sentence quickly morphed into an alarmed grunt when that vicegrip on his wrist tightened again, and he found himself tumbling right into the river of traffic, forced to sprint and dodge his way through the rushing current, the sounds of honking horns and Luffy's laughter joining his thundering heartbeat.

It was a miracle indeed when his sneakers finally touched safely onto the opposite sidewalk, the rapid curses and shouts of drivers now behind him, though he certainly added a few huffed profanities of his own to the mix.

A high-pitched cackle above him, and he glanced up to meet eyes with a hefty old woman hanging out a second-story window, watching them with a bottle of alcohol in hand.

Just great. They'd had an audience. Only five minutes in, but fuck this city already.

He ignored her, rolling first his eyes, then his shoulders, trying to regain some sense of dignity.

"What the hell does this look like to you, huh?" he growled at Luffy. "Fucking Frogger?"

Yet, his frustration mounted when he found the boy's attention focused elsewhere, his hand planted firmly on top of his straw hat as he sniffed the air like some dog.

Zoro scoffed. "Hello?" he grunted. "Hey, are you even listening?"

"This way!" was his answer, Luffy's face suddenly lighting up with an excited grin, his only warning before the boy grabbed hold of him again and pulled him down the sidewalk, past countless storefronts, practically skipping between the flow of pedestrians.

Zoro stumbled along behind him, took one last disdainful look at the map in his hand, then shoved the crumpled paper into his jacket pocket before marching forward with a bit more purpose.

Like he had any idea how to read Nami's directions anyway. Perhaps it was best to just blame everything on this moron if he got lost.

Something that he might very well have had to face soon enough when Luffy stopped them at the mouth of a side street nestled in shade between the tall buildings on either side.

They stood there and stared for a moment, the street, too narrow for traffic, bustling with people strolling beneath tattered awnings and signs that cast chilly shadows over the dark pavement.

It was a rather gloomy scene, Zoro thought, until he noticed-

"Food!" Luffy shouted, throwing his arms up as if this had been their destination all along.

And indeed, the colorful splash of vendors selling fruits, vegetables, and countless other wares served to brighten the place entirely upon second glance, the goods spilling out from the shops lining the street, leaving hardly enough room for pedestrians to make their way through.

But the pleasant chatter of those pedestrians filled the place, and when the first mouth-watering aroma of something grilled and delicious hit his nose, Zoro sighed, grudgingly accepting his defeat for the time-being.

"You hungry?" Luffy was asking, his body nearly vibrating with eagerness, his big eyes flicking consistently from Zoro's face to the street and back. "'Cause I'm starving! Can we eat? I wanna eat."

"Oh, now you ask my opinion," Zoro huffed, but found the corners of his lips tilting up anyway when he heard the distant synthesizer of a rock song filtering into the street from an open window.

He shouldered Luffy forward into the stream of people, earning himself a victorious fist pump from his strange companion.

Various booths with different types of foods mesmerized mostly Luffy, who bought as many snacks as he could carry, all the while dragging Zoro along.

The swordsman indulged himself in a simple meat and vegetable kebab, enough to satisfy his hunger for a little while at least.

Eyes followed Luffy's fingers, the swordsman vaguely impressed as his companion managed to snatch another snack from a poor old woman's food booth without paying.

The corner of his lips lifted into a small smile, hurrying to catch up to Luffy, the crazy guy now running farther down the street, not without leaving a trail of cackles in his wake, along with one angry old woman.

Zoro followed, not completely sure why, considering he'd just met Luffy no more than ten minutes ago, but here he was, as if his legs, not his brain, were controlling his entire body.

There was something strange about this Luffy D. Monkey…. Strange enough that Zoro really didn't mind his company as much as he should have.

As he pushed through another small wave of people, Zoro felt his calves begin to burn, the road suddenly sloping upwards.

The faint rock music now faded completely, Zoro finding himself at the end of a street which led into a deeper part of the city. He was met with a busy road, cars and buses rushing past him.

After scanning the scene for a moment, Zoro finally located Luffy, standing at the street corner, seemingly lost in his own world as he stared up in awe at the countless tall buildings in that area, holding onto the top of his hat to keep it from falling clear off his head.

He seemed to have caught a glimpse of Zoro approaching, turning his head and flashing him a bright grin.

"Zoro! This city is so cool, huh?" Luffy exclaimed, bouncing in place excitedly.

Not a moment later though, and a shocked look took over his features, the boy suddenly squinting at something behind Zoro, who could only blink back at him.

And Zoro found himself even more baffled when Luffy unexpectedly sprinted past him to the streetlight placed on the corner, where he promptly swung himself in a circle and climbed it, just like his primate namesake.

It only took him a few seconds to reach the top, limbs clinging to the post securely. The boy made an exaggerated pout, his lips drawing out, shielding his eyes from the sun and stretching his neck out to see farther into the distance.

Zoro thought he looked ridiculous.

Maybe he was just an idiot after all.

"What the hell are you doing up there!?" Zoro called from down below, looking around them with some embarrassment to see people staring, some cars even honking as they drove past.

"I see it!" Luffy shouted in response, pointing ahead of him, confusing Zoro even more.

"See what?" Zoro squawked, baffled.

"Our hotel!" he confirmed, jumping down the pole with ease and landing on his feet perfectly.

What the fuck was this guy?

With some degree of reluctance, Zoro took out Nami's map once more, knowing there was no way they could have ended up in the right direction. Not with Luffy's aimless wandering.

Still, Zoro looked up at the street sign that Luffy had been grabbing on to and checked the street name.

Enies Boulevard.

Unfolding the paper a little more, eyebrows slowly rose in surprise when he discovered the name was an exact match to the one written on Nami's map.

A frown and he looked back towards the direction Luffy pointed.

And sure enough, he saw, further to his left, barely visible past various shops and restaurants, a run-down hotel, its dull brown sign reading, 'Dressrosa.'

Well, shit.


November 2, 1988. Thursday. 3:25 p.m. Water 7 Airport.

Stepping out from the revolving door of the arrivals lobby with his luggage, the first thing Sanji did upon setting foot on the curb outside was to fish out his pack of cigarettes, eager to trade the suffocating air of the jet for some much-needed smoke, fingers, shaky from withdrawal, placing one between his lips.

He flicked open his gold lighter, extremely happy to see the familiar little flame, and lit his cigarette, taking a hasty drag and feeling his nerves instantly ease with the inhale. It was a much-needed indulgence before he continued his annoyingly lengthy trip.

The blond stood, scanning the long row of taxis and cars pulling up to the curb, the clatter of rolling suitcase wheels on the sidewalk and the distant honking of car horns filling his moment of silence.

Ms. Nico had apparently set him up with a driver and lodging for his stay in Water 7. He hadn't asked too many questions about that. He trusted both the woman's impeccable judgment and taste, knowing he would surely be more than satisfied by any accommodations arranged by her genius planning.

Another sweep of the cars, and the drivers who stood outside, some looking impatient, checking watches, others holding signs diligently for their respective patrons…

Nothing bearing his name…

"Mr. Black?"

The blond sucked in a breath in mild alarm when, instead of a sign, a low voice called for him, and he whirled his head around to find a new sedan, stylishly black, parked in the opposite direction of his initial gaze, its driver already standing beside the passenger door.

Sanji stared for a minute, taking in the man's odd appearance, purple hair, slicked to the side, and a rather gaudy suit of red and orange, perfectly tidied. That didn't even cover what, to the blond's surprise, appeared to be a live mouse peeking out of the driver's breast pocket, tiny white paws clutching the fabric, nose quivering as it sniffed the air.

What the hell…?

Well, after a moment to take in that scene, Sanji had to settle on the comfort that at least it wasn't a tarantula or some shit…

He had to remember his gorgeous Ms. Nico had arranged this for him. No complaining allowed. Even if his driver had turned out to be a talking reindeer.

Thus, he was rather proud that the only surprise he managed to betray was a slight furrow of brows, the blond refraining from comment other than a short reply of, "Yeah. You my ride?"

The driver simply nodded and opened the back passenger door expectantly before gesturing for Sanji's luggage.

His little moment of respite was sufficiently cut short now, but he supposed it was better to get moving again.

So, taking the sufficient amount of drags, in case he was asked not to smoke, Sanji wasted no further time and lifted up his suitcase and briefcase by his feet, clenching his cigarette between pursed lips, to walk over to the car.

Sanji handed over his luggage silently and slid into the backseat with his briefcase beside him while the chauffeur popped the trunk and deposited his suitcase.

Adjusting his glasses, Sanji resisted taking another puff of his cigarette until his driver entered as well and turned on the car.

"S'alright if I smoke?" he asked, to which the man nodded, much to Sanji's relief.

"Of course, sir," the driver replied as he finally eased the car back onto the road, stealing a glance over his shoulder at the blond. "Ms. Nico requested I take you to a hotel uptown to avoid any suspicions about your job status. A fresh face gets some competitors wondering..."

Rolling down his window a crack, Sanji finally took another drag and smirked, already suspecting his boss had made arrangements ahead of time, not the least bit surprised. She was smart and beautiful, after all.

"Sounds just fine."

Content with Sanji's response, the driver simply nodded again, the car falling quiet as they wound their way through the airport roads, past seemingly endless parking garages before merging onto the highway that led to the city.

Sanji took that time to relax, settling back in his seat until his cigarette was nearly gone before eventually releasing the butt out the window, which he rolled up once more.

It was time to get to work.

He turned to open his briefcase, thumb flicking round the small number dials until they gave a small click, and he pulled out his notebook of his jotted notes, eyes scanning the first part of his planned schedule. Of course, doing so only vividly refreshed his memory and he groaned internally, his eye twitching at the mere thought of what he had to do.

The absolute worst part...

Hunched over in annoyance, Sanji moved past that specific detail and continued reading the rest of his files, mentally scribbling down all the details of where he needed to be and when. He revisited old relevant news articles that he had cut out and placed in a folder, a bit thankful when the driver turned on the radio, the faint lyrics of Take on Me crooning through his ears and giving him a bit of motivation to concentrate.

It was enough that, immersed in his reviewing, Sanji lost track of the amount of time that had gone by and soon noticed the long shadows that now fell onto his notes, making him glance up and peer out his window to see tall buildings outside.

The scenery passing by before him, he realized they were now driving through what looked to be an upscale part of the city, fancy edifices, modern and beautiful, lining the streets in pristine fashion.

Well-dressed people walked down the sidewalk, a trio of lovely ladies in particular catching Sanji's eye.

Which naturally resulted in the blond rolling down his window with haste to call out to them when the car fortuitously reached a red light.

"Greetings, Mademoiselles! I hope you all have an amazing day!" he screeched, practically shoving himself out the window while kissing his palm repeatedly and sending them flying air smooches. The women gave him strange looks and visibly recoiled in disgust, but Sanji was completely unperturbed.

Luckily for the women, the car wasn't stopped for long, soon picking up speed again, forcing Sanji to give up his foolish greeting.

Sighing in bliss, he dramatically retreated back through the window and rolled it up once more, hand to his heart. He took a moment to flop back in his seat, imagination now full of romantic possibilities that would surely greet him in this city of love.

But he wasn't a complete fool. He couldn't let himself be distracted for too long. So he opened his eyes, only to be met with the baffled gaze of the driver in the rearview mirror.

Sanji blinked for a moment, a little unnerved by his audience, before quickly averting eyes and letting out an embarrassed cough, self-conscious fingers fumbling with his collar and hair as he straightened in his seat.

"How much longer until we arrive?" Sanji asked in a rather pathetic attempt to act as if the scene he'd just caused had never happened.

And it worked, though he supposed he had the driver's merciful discretion to thank for that.

"Shouldn't be too long now," the man replied smoothly. "Just up ahead if there's no traffic."

This had Sanji glancing out the vehicle's front window, noticing that the road was still relatively clear, but there were signs of traffic slowing down ahead, a few taxis and buses honking at one another to try and fit into the lanes.

Nodding silently, Sanji closed his file folder and placed it back into his briefcase, which he shut and locked, deciding he'd reviewed enough. There would surely be time to continue later.

And indeed, not too long after, the car slowed and pulled into the front drive of a hotel, its name, Sabaody, placed over the entrance in graceful cursive. It was one that wasn't too crowded by the looks of it, no long line of cars outside, and certainly high-class, fucking pompous even, in Sanji's opinion, judging by its exterior.

An unnecessary amount of plants littered the landscaping, the smell of various kinds of flowers filling Sanji's nose, almost unbearably so when the driver parked the car near the entrance and opened the door.

The place clearly had an airy Greek theme going for it, two large marble pillars placed at either side of the hotel's entrance, cement lions elegantly lounging atop the stairs.

It was almost too much, but again, no complaints about Ms. Nico's lovely choices.

So he stepped out of the car, retrieved his suitcase from his driver and gave him a somewhat generous tip. The guy wasn't a gorgeous lady (certainly not with a strange name like Iceburg, as Sanji noted from the name card mounted on the dashboard), but the ride had been comfortable.

With a final goodbye, Sanji turned and walked towards the building, entering its just-as-fancy lobby, where he looked up and was met with a glass ceiling. It lit up the entire room perfectly, blue skies visible outside, the ceiling framed by lush green plants that spilled out over built-in planters. They managed to achieve opulence to staggering, if slightly over-the-top, effect.

He retrieved his already reserved room key from the receptionist and took the elevator to the sixth floor.

He would have to properly thank Ms. Nico for the arrangements, because, while Sanji thought the exterior of the hotel was a bit much, his room was amazing.

The room was practically luminescent, everything-walls, furniture-a clean white which Sanji found quite relaxing, making him want to forget what he'd come there to do in favor of making use of that luxurious bed, perhaps sleep the rest of the day away. But alas...

Instead, he placed his suitcase on top of the bed and reluctantly began unpacking.

Suits were hung in the closet, shirts and ties folded nicely into the dresser. He may have been there temporarily, but it was no excuse not to properly care for his clothes.

Sliding the drawers shut, he noticed the glass doors on the other end of the room, leading to a balcony. Curious, he walked over to see that, from where he stood, he was able to see the ocean that bordered the city.

Yes, definitely had to thank Robin.

He made a mental note to enjoy that view with a smoke later.

Another minute spent leaning on the railing, taking in the gentle waves in the distance and the refreshing smell of the salty air before he sighed and stepped back inside, though he left the door open to let in the breeze.

Returning to his task, he finished putting all his clothes and toiletries where they needed to be and decided it was finally time to set part one of his project in motion.

Which meant he'd be taking a shower. Because wasn't that the best place to scheme?


5:00 p.m. Dressrosa Hotel. Water 7.

Maybe the place had been an actual worthwhile destination at one point in its history, especially with a dumb, fancy name like 'Dressrosa'. But those days were long fucking gone, Zoro thought when he found himself standing in a musty pink lobby, lit by horrible fluorescents and smelling like cigarettes that made it feel like he'd entered a horror film rather than a hotel.

Except, wait, there was already a movie about that, wasn't there. Guess he wasn't wrong.

But it hardly mattered to the swordsman whether or not the Battle Royale went cheap with their competitors' lodging. As long as he had a place to crash and access to a minibar, he'd survive.

On the contrary, a glance to Luffy at his left showed the other man gazing around the lobby in awe, as if he was suddenly ten years old and just bursting into a Chuck E. Cheese's for the first time.

Whatever. Zoro supposed he wouldn't spoil the guy's fun. If well-trodden industrial carpets, fake plants, and peeling wallpaper excited him, so be it.

The swordsman strode past him towards a long counter on the opposite end of the room, which he had to guess was the reception desk, not that the person behind it gave any hint, the woman not even so much as looking up from her fashion magazine until they'd fully approached.

Placing his case down on the ground beside him, Zoro rested his arms on the counter of the reception desk and locked eyes with the receptionist.

"I'm Zoro Roronoa," he stated bluntly. "Here for the Battle Royale."

"And I'm Luffy D. Monkey! Also going to kick some ass in the Battle Royale!" chirped his companion, the other man's fingers pressing on the counter while he bounced on the tips of his toes.

Zoro was silent through the man's enthusiasm, though inside, his stomach did a small flip.

Just as he suspected. This strange man was a competitor.

The receptionist chuckled at the loud man and proceeded to hand Zoro and Luffy their keys, which they both took and headed for their rooms.

Spotting an elevator, Zoro began walking towards it, Luffy following closely behind.

"What number key do you have, Zoro?" Luffy asked from behind him, catching up to his side in a small jog as Zoro pressed the up button.

Zoro lifted up his hand holding the key, which read number 603.

"Sweet! I'm room 605! We're neighbors," Luffy laughed, raising his own key. "Do you have your awesome swords in that case!?" he persisted, pointing at the box held by Zoro in his right hand, making him glance down at the black leather case.

"They're all in here," Zoro confirmed. "You really here for the Battle Royale?" he asked, wanting to know for sure.

The doors to the elevator opened with a bit of hesitance, obviously worn.

"Yup! I'm gonna fight with my bare fists," Luffy answered simply as he stepped in, with a cheeky grin, the doors sliding shut once more. He lifted his left arm to flex, his fist closed and right palm coming up to rest on his bicep.

He was a skinny-ass kid. Zoro wondered if he'd be able to pull his weight, but he wasn't going to underestimate him. From attitude alone, Luffy seemed to have some fight in him.

Still, it wasn't going to stop Zoro from messing with him.

"You sure you can take someone down with those bony arms?" Zoro scoffed, jerking his chin at the twigs attached to the boy's shoulders.

Luffy stared straight ahead, a pout on his lips.

"Shut up! I can punch damn hard! I'm pretty sure I could knock your teeth in," he grumbled, causing Zoro to chuckle and roll his eyes.

And then suddenly, a sharp force hit his shoulder and Zoro shut up immediately, grasping his shoulder with a small, pained wince. Luffy wasn't looking at him, instead looking away with an obvious smile he was trying to hold back.

"Told you I could punch," he muttered. "And that was just a baby punch."

Damn… Zoro thought sulkily, resisting the urge to rub at the throbbing spot.

He'd been right. Luffy definitely had some fight in him.

It wasn't long before the man laughed though, sticking his tongue out at Zoro, unable to drop his childish ways for long, it seemed.

Luffy intertwined his fingers and rested his hands behind his head in a casual pose.

"I'm letting you know now. I'm going to be the next Royale King," he stated randomly.

Zoro blinked in confusion. "Royale…King? Is that even a thing?"

Luffy dropped his arms.

"Yeah! That's my name for it. Got a problem?"

"Nope," Zoro muttered. He was only there for one reason, after all. And that certainly wasn't to defeat every damn person in the tournament. He could, surely, but no, he had one man in particular in his sights.

"Good!" Luffy chirped. "So then, why are you here?"

Zoro squirmed a bit, not liking how the boy seemed to read his thoughts. He knew why he'd come to the Grand Line to fight in the Battle Royale, but it wasn't something he'd expected a near stranger to ask him so soon.

But Zoro didn't care what other people thought. He didn't care that most would think him crazy for joining a deadly underground fighting tournament held in secret. A battle with no limits, accepting all kinds of fighting techniques.

So what if there was no referee standing on the sidelines to stop a brawl if it were to get too brutal. So what if it was a fight until the end, whether that meant life or death.

That didn't make him crazy for joining.

He wasn't there to die, after all. He was there to win. And he was the only one allowed to say anything about his own ambitions.

"I'm…fighting in place of someone I knew," Zoro said quietly in response, opting for the vague response rather than the full story.

Oddly, following his statement, Luffy went quiet for the first time since Zoro had met him, only smiling as the elevator came to a stop, the doors opening once more.

That smile, and the silence of the stopped elevator brought an awkwardness to the atmosphere.

Neither of them said anything more, giving Zoro the chance to, once again, take in the quality (or lack thereof) of the hallway they walked out into.

The hosts of the tournament were indeed covering the cost of the hotel for their competitors, but they really had chosen to have them stay in a pretty run-down place, presumably because the owners were involved. The lobby had sure been a warning about that. The yellow wallpaper covering the walls of the hallway was almost peeling off, the designs on it fading, the smell of cigarettes still permeating.

The carpet the two walked over was no longer red, but a dirty burgundy, stains from who knew what coating it in different areas.

Thankfully, the two weren't wandering the ugly halls for long, as they quickly found their room numbers, even the doors looking beaten and old. Zoro could only imagine what it was actually like inside the room.

"You should come over to my room sometime and maybe we can spar, Zoro! Or we can order some pizza!" Luffy suggested in his excitement as Zoro was in the midst of putting his key into his lock.

Has this guy forgotten that we might end up fighting against each other? Zoro thought, rather incredulous.

Zoro turned to face Luffy and answer his question, but stopped when he spotted something strange down the hallway.

A long-nosed man, who seemed to be reading off the numbers of the doors in the hallway, was stumbling through, evidently nervous about something. The man continued, oblivious to the two across the hall watching him curiously.

After only a few seconds, however, the man saw them and his eyes widened, as if in fear.

"Hello! Excuse me, have you seen two men, named, uh…"

He trailed off, gaze dropping to a weathered piece of paper he held in shaky fingers, well worn from countless folding and unfolding.

"Ah! Zoro Roronoa and Luffy D. Monkey?" the long-nosed man questioned as he approached the two, hesitation clear in his voice.

"I'm Luffy, and that's Zoro. Who's asking?" Luffy responded for the both of them with no hesitation, jamming a thumb towards Zoro.

"Ah, perfect. The name's Usopp," the man introduced in relief, clearing his throat. "The manager told me you two were staying on this floor. Anyway, you both are fighting in the Battle Royale, right?

Since there's fighters from all over, I've been assigned to help the two of you from the East Blue find your way around and see that you don't disqualify yourselves by fighting outside the arena," he explained with a small boost of confidence. "After you guys settle into your rooms, I can take you to the arena to sign up."

A little confused at the man's sudden and brief introduction, Zoro and Luffy said nothing, before shrugging, each heading into their rooms to unpack.


5:00 p.m. Sabaody Hotel. Water 7.

Standing before his room's full-length mirror, Sanji gave himself a once-over, making sure that his outfit was nothing short of perfect for the occasion. He was dressed in a white button-up with yellow stripes, black slacks, and dress shoes, brought together by matching yellow-tinted sunglasses.

Was it a bit much for an underground fighting ring? Those without any sense would have thought so, but Sanji figured it wasn't, considering he knew one of the managers in the joint to enjoy a good feather boa. There was no comparison.

So, satisfied that his outfit wasn't too formal or too casual, he was about to step away from the mirror but stopped himself, noting the finishing touch. Fingers reaching the top of his shirt, he unbuttoned the first two buttons, showing off the appropriate amount of skin.

Now it was perfect.

Walking over to the dresser where he had placed his fragrances, Sanji ultimately bypassed them in favor of staying subtle, heading for his watch instead.

But just as he was about to clasp the band around his wrist, he found himself interrupted by the high-pitched sound of his cellular phone's ringtone coming from the bed where he'd reverently placed the bulky device earlier. It was a work phone, yet another expensive perk provided by Ms. Nico, after all.

There weren't many who called him on it, however, and, unfortunately, he was only expecting one caller that particular day.

Sanji barely held back a groan and made his way over to pick up the phone, drawing out its antenna and flipping it open. With a small beep, he accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Sanji!" A gravelly voice managed to filter through the crackly reception of the phone. "Heard you're checked in. You ready to go? I'll be there in about five."

"Hi, Gin," Sanji replied, smoothly covering up his annoyance with a pleasant tone. How the hell had the guy learned where he was? Still, not a question for that moment.

"Just about!" Sanji continued. "I'll meet you at the entrance. No need to come up, alright?"

"Great, see you soon~" Gin answered, thankfully without further conversation before he hung up rather abruptly.

Letting out a breath of relief, Sanji returned his cellular phone gently to its dock on the bed and resumed his preparations.

As irritating as it was, Gin was part one of his plan, one that he didn't particularly want to associate with, but knew he had to if he wanted to complete his goal and write his prized article.

During the weeks he'd been developing his plan, one thing had stumped him. A major thing, all things considered.

He'd been completely unsure as to how he was going to enter the Battle Royale as a reporter. After some digging, Sanji learned they didn't allow just any civilian to go through. It wasn't that easy, something he had figured already. He wasn't a complete imbecile, crashing in like he owned the place.

The only ones allowed to enter were the competitors, the management of the event, and the audience, which mainly consisted of people who were involved in the same type of dirty underground work and competitions.

But that was ultimately how Sanji found his press ticket in.

After attending and posing as a normal member of the audience in the less important competitions back in the North Blue a few times, he'd been able to use his unending charms to talk his way through some people, making connections here and there until eventually, he'd found a man who had secretly informed him that he was to soon attend the Battle Royale. A most convenient piece of information.

He was a rugged-looking man, thin, with scruffy hair and beard. He had dark circles under his eyes, looking as though he lacked sleep.

In the times that he and Sanji met up, he constantly smelled like booze, something that Sanji was barely able to withstand. But he had, for the sake of his article, and they'd grown closer, enough so that Sanji had learned more information... and enough that Gin had developed feelings for Sanji.

Which Sanji had taken complete advantage of.

He was a man only for the ladies, after all.

Gin never admitted his feelings, but he made it very obvious with his sleazy flirtations, touches to Sanji's back or hand.

Not once did Sanji ever reciprocate those touches. And he wasn't planning on doing so, either.

And yet, in the end, leading up to that day, Gin had been more than happy to escort Sanji to the Battle Royale, securing Sanji's way in. Awful as it was, he just had to tolerate the guy's creepy advances for a little while longer...

Appearance now presentable, Sanji gathered his important items, his cellular phone, cigarettes, and lighter all a given, a notepad and pencil and his audio recorder also necessary, and easily placed them into a tan sack where he also inserted a change of clothes and swung it over his shoulder.

Locking up his hotel room, Sanji then headed towards the elevators and made his way down once more into the lobby, striding with unsuspicious confidence as he did so.

Just a few feet away from the entrance doors, he saw the familiar red Audi Cabriolet convertible parked out front.

And sure enough, he recognized Gin leaning back against his car as he neared it, sole of his right shoe carefully propped against the side door.

Sanji suspected it was Gin's effort to appear cool and impress him, but honestly Sanji thought he looked ridiculous.

As was his choice of clothing, Sanji somewhat judgmentally noted, the man wearing a dark purple suit that looked like he'd just stepped off a disco floor. His usual burgundy spherical earrings were replaced by a long gold chain hanging from his left ear.

"Gin!" he called out in fake cheer, catching the man's attention as he approached.

"Sanji. Definitely a pleasure to see you again. You look stunning," he purred flirtatiously, striving for Sanji's hand which the blond effortlessly avoided, something he'd learned to do after spending so much time with the man.

"Why thank you." Sanji smiled softly, completely ignoring the man's amorous compliment.

Nonetheless pleased, Gin opened the passenger side door for Sanji and walked around to get into the driver's seat.

As soon as he sat down, the leather seats creaked a bit loudly, Sanji glancing up and noting the fuzzy blue dice hanging from the car's rearview mirror.

Seriously... Sanji thought silently with an unimpressed quirk of his brow.

Gin hopped in, jamming the key into the ignition, starting the car, and gliding out of the hotel's drive, onto the streets, busy now that evening had arrived.

The sun was just beginning to go down, the bright shine of day gradually dwindling, a light amber appearing to spot the sky. It should have been beautiful, had it not been for the company.

"Today's basically just a day for auditions," Gin drawled, glancing at Sanji, left arm propped on the ridge of the open car window, driving with just his right hand.

"The competitors gotta try out and prove they won't die the minute they step into the arena. Have to put up some type of fight, y'know," he continued, and Sanji nodded, something he already knew.

Gin must have thought he was completely clueless about everything involving the Battle Royale...

"It'll be interesting to see this year's competition. Don't you think?" Sanji said almost quietly, a smirk breaching the corner of his lips.

The November wind blew slightly then, flowing through his blonde strands and into his collared shirt. But Sanji didn't feel cold; a small warmth was tickling his skin.

"Yeah. Gotta keep an eye out for the strong-looking ones so you know who to bet on. Imagine the amount of money we can win in that joint." Gin laughed. As if Sanji was in this for money. "If I can win some cash, I'll take you out on a date, hm?" He hummed suggestively while scratching his beard.

"...We'll just have to see, won't we?" Sanji chuckled uncomfortably, neither accepting nor denying his question. He still had to put up with Gin, and he wasn't going to jeopardize that yet by outright rejecting him.

Oblivious to Sanji's thoughts, Gin shot him a wide grin and continued driving, now beginning to take a few turns into some more secluded streets.

It was almost scary how seamlessly the beautiful outskirts of the city morphed into a gross, obviously dangerous area. Luxurious apartments and stores getting left behind, Sanji turned his head around to watch them disappear.

A bit of smoke filled the air, tinted with the scent of gasoline, a heavy truck passing by Gin's car making the smell become extra strong. Mini-vans and older cars whirred by, following it. The streets were a lot more crowded with people, jaywalking across the roads easily without getting hit by cars.

Lines of store signs decorated the sidewalks, some with no business being next to one another.

An Indian restaurant, a family medical clinic, and right beside that, a club...

But Sanji was neutral to the scenery surrounding him, no stranger to this type of atmosphere.

Unlit cigarette held between his teeth, Sanji bit down on the end of it, his nerves somewhat ticked. His eyes glinted behind his sunglasses, moving his hand to whip them off and put back on his prescription ones.

He suddenly wasn't in a fashionable mood.

Slowing down his car, Gin made the motion to parallel park in front of a department store, which hardly looked like the location they were both heading to.

Sanji gave him a look that made Gin explain subtly, "We have to park a certain distance away from it so we don't get anyone following our tail. They'll be pissed if we draw in the cops."

"Makes sense," was all Sanji said as Gin killed the ignition, both men hopping out of the vehicle.

Sanji let Gin lead the way, following him into an alley which led to many more. All the while, Sanji felt as though the bag over his shoulder was weighing his heart into the ground.


5:52 p.m.

Somehow feeling like they could trust the strange man they'd encountered in the hotel hallway, less than an hour later, Zoro and Luffy followed him out into one of the less prominent areas of Water 7.

Zoro found himself once again in the sea of people out on the street.

The roads were busy with vehicles, honking resonating from random buses, cars, and even scooters. It was a lively street, one with many people. Surely the Battle Royale wasn't in this part of town.

The three strode silently. Usopp smiled as he led the way, clearly content with having found his two assigned men, and they weren't as scary-looking as he'd expected.

Luffy and Zoro looked above them, at the buildings, most of them apartments in different colors and sizes. But they both looked ahead when they felt themselves walking down a slope and into what looked to be a more discrete and isolated location.

"Water 7 is a pretty big city, so it'll be easy to get lost," Usopp explained. "Especially in this area. This isn't the place to get yourself involved in anything messy. There's a lot of mean-looking people around. Every time I walk past the obscured corners around here, the guys there look like they'll kill me," he ranted shakily, yet he tried to laugh off his foreboding statement.

It was drizzling now, the smallest of raindrops hitting Zoro's face as he listened, noting that this area did in fact look dangerous.

Slightly worn-out buildings lined the streets. A neon light reading 'open' on a dirty liquor store window flickered through the darkening evening. Graffiti was crudely painted over a surprisingly resilient dentist's office, the 'T' from the sign unscrewed and hanging upside-down.

Laughter emitted from a nearby bar, along with the clinking of glasses.

And right beside that bar, Zoro spotted a small group of men huddled together on the sidewalk. Eyeing the three men as they passed, they did indeed look mean, just like Usopp had said.

"I'm surprised I haven't gotten mugged out on these streets yet, but I think I scare them off with my obvious muscles," Usopp went on, flexing said muscles proudly. "You guys seem pretty tough too, gotta say. I'm gonna root for either of you two to win the Battle Royale."

He smiled as he turned to look at them.

"I'm for sure going to win!" Luffy exclaimed with a small chuckle, glancing at Zoro. "Sorry, Zoro," he added with a grin.

"We'll see about that," Zoro replied with a small smile of his own, just before the trio turned a corner into an old dirty alleyway, where two men stood, engaged in conversation. They instantly stopped when the three men appeared.

"Here we are, guys," Usopp told them nervously. "Prepare yourselves."

Usopp took a deep breath and slowly approached one of the men and whispered in his ear, the man eyeing Zoro and Luffy judgmentally.

"Go ahead," he sneered as Usopp stepped away from him.

They walked past the men and into a concealed doorway, which led them directly into another alley, this one much narrower, and dark, pipes hanging above their heads, leading in different directions, some dripping liquid.

To their right were the back doors of isolated shops, the smell from their cheap food wafting out the door. Sparks from jumbled wires against the wall glinted randomly from separate ends. They were in an alley wedged between poor-looking apartments. Zoro looked up to see balconies from those apartments littered above him, some unbelievably close to one another.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, they turned a final corner where two more men were posted, guarding a pair of enormous red doors. The sound of yelling, chatter, and punches rumbled through the door, already audible from the outside.

While Usopp once again talked to the guards, Zoro felt a small pat on his back, glancing to Luffy, who flashed him the biggest grin he'd seen yet.

And just a few moments later, they walked through the red doors and were immediately faced with what was sure to be the arena of the Battle Royale. The smell was the first thing to hit Zoro.

Sweat. Blood. Metal. Smoke. All of it a blast of dank warmth in his face that was oddly invigorating, had his fingers gripping his sword case tighter and his heart beating just that little bit faster, particularly when the sound of sharp fight cries and fierce smacks against bare skin reached his ears.

His eyes drifted to the middle of the surprisingly spacious room to find a large mat, lit harshly by overhead lights that served as spotlights in the otherwise dim space, showcasing several practicing competitors, throwing kicks at one another, others scattered around the perimeter, also practicing.

Above the fighting ring, attached to the wall, was a scoreboard, where the names of those competing were placed, and just underneath was a small booth for the hosts to sit and watch.'

Surrounding the whole room were wooden bleachers, where those who were allowed to enter and view could sit and place their bets on who they thought would win each round.

It was a crude set-up, but Zoro hadn't been expecting the Olympics. He'd known what he was getting himself into.

Still, it was pretty wild to think that this cavernous hellhole was where his dreams would be realized.

Eyes did another sweep of the room, the swordsman now noticing a table just before the fighting platform, behind which sat a peculiar-looking man, a gaudy feather boa covering his large form and sunglasses over his eyes, though Zoro couldn't understand why, given the lighting in the place.

The man grinned wickedly as he looked down at the clipboard he scanned over, leading Zoro to believe he'd located the man in charge.

Zoro inhaled deeply. He had finally made it, more than ready to go through with the promise he'd made, all those years ago.

Clenching his grip on his case, silently facing his new reality, Zoro was completely unaware of the heated stare coming from a certain bespectacled blond over on the sidelines.