Wake-up Call
He couldn't move, which wasn't something he ever enjoyed; not in action, he wasn't him. But everything was so heavy, heavier than being under a mountain, and he didn't know how to fight that weight, couldn't even open his eyes under it, couldn't even breathe.
Like sleep but deeper, and he knew this feeling, this tiredness, he'd felt it before, but he was too exhausted to remember. He didn't care anyway. When you're tired, you rest, and things would be better when you woke up; they always were. Nothing else really mattered, as long as he could sleep.
Except he couldn't. It wasn't the noise; even right in his ear he could ignore that. The shaking didn't matter, nor that pounding on his chest.
But Zoro sounded scared, and nothing scares Zoro. There was a rasp to his shout, where usually there's anger, but this time his voice was hoarse, stretched so thin it sounded like it might snap, like one of Usopp's rubber bands.
And he needed to know what enemy there possibly could be, who could scare Zoro. To see that marvel, as tired as he was, he forced his eyes open. Then he was coughing, was roughly yanked up and whacked on the back until he had choked up all the salt water filling his lungs, and Zoro--not scared at all--was grumbling, how could you just fall off like that, and look at this damn island, and the ship's not in sight, and what the hell do we do now--
It didn't seem like a bad island, really; there were palm trees, with coconuts. Though he had looked forward to beating up the monster that had scared Zoro so badly, and was disappointed, when he looked around, to see no sign of it.