It all started with Wano.

She had light green hair and amber-orange eyes. She read him lessons, running her fingers through his long hair, untangling the tangles. Soft skin, rough calluses, confident movements; soft voice, low intonation, sincere care; duty and affection, intertwined in red, instead of green. She took care of him, taught him, and nurtured him.

Luffy told them to wait here. Nothing complicated, just wait, blend in, put on a different kimono, change your name, never take the bandana off your head or replace it with a stupid triangular hat, wait it out. Wait for the captain with a sharply stupefied ero-kok, who decided that the escape would put an end to their story. Zoro had always known that the cook was a special kind of mind, but not so... damn stupid.

"Shishou", he says, inhaling the hot summer air. Children's feet dangle from the ledge of a traditional house, fingers tear out the protruding threads of someone else's kimono, one sandal flies off the bare foot.

Shishou lets out a soft chuckle as he slowly untangles the branches and leaves from his head.

"Maybe we should just cut it off", he pleads, tired of sitting still. Even if it's shishou, it's been more than two hours. She hums behind him, and he feels it with his back pressed against her, and, forgetting her words, looks up sharply. "Don't laugh".

"I'm not laughing", she lies, smiling; her eyes sparkle with merriment and autumn leaves; he catches the early wrinkles on her young face, and hears the faint chime of three earrings. "I'm just thinking how I can explain the disappearance of the symbol of prosperity", there is a grim satisfaction and a hidden malice in her voice. He's small, but not stupid. He knows when Shishou is unhappy, though he tries to hide it.

Her fingers are buried in the unraveled left side of his hair; green-green, long, that it's hard to lift your head after the bath; just like her.

"One day", and her voice is like the whisper of dawn, "we'll get rid of them".

And he knows that shishou isn't talking about his hair.

Zoro doesn't remember Wano very well, everything merges into the same roads and into the same people's faces. He doesn't stay in one place for long, his body tells him to go forward, without looking back, his hand clenches on the handle of the Wado, almost never letting go; the air is salty, fishy, almost sea — not mountain, not stuffy, not grassy. Zoro meets Robin's eyes and doesn't recognize her immediately; it might be a disguise, someone more self-deceptive might have decided, but not Zoro. In his head, the tocsin sounds of wooden sandals on stone; in his head, the voices of people he hasn't seen in more than a decade drown out; in head have green hair and a predestination.

Zoro doesn't quite understand how he ended up in the port. But he finds himself thinking about jumping into the water and swimming away. He's done it before.

Luffy, where are you?

Shishou smiled at him often and in many ways: from caring and love to condescension and an impudent grin. Shishou was one of the strongest in the village and wielded a sword as if performing a festive dance, welcoming the beginning of the new year and saying goodbye to the past. Shishou was alive, as they were supposed to be, though she always hated it when he said those words.

But he didn't understand — why.

Why does shishou hate who they are?

"Oh, child", she drawled, smiling at him more tenderly than his own mother ever could, "do you know what our hair and eyes mean?", he nodded. How could he not know? Everyone in the village knew him; everyone revered and praised him beforehand; and his blood family was thanked and respected. They never needed anything, they lived in prosperity and well-being. Shishou's wrinkles deepened and her eyes became sadder. "Our hair", she sits him on her lap, the long ends intertwined in a bizarre pattern,"our eyes", forehead to forehead, amber to amber, "our bodies and lives", hands on hearts, beats steady and loud, "all belong to us alone. Your life belongs only to you. We are strong because of who we are; because our eyes are from the sun, and our hair is from nature; because of how long we have to live. We are the children of the earth and the sun, accepting their prosperity and blessing. No more, no less.

And that was the strangest thing he'd ever heard. Shishou must have hit herself hard somewhere, right? She couldn't say that. His ears are playing tricks on him.

They belong to the village and the people.

They can't live for themselves.

Seeing Luffy is like coming out of the ocean after a month of being there. Luffy is light and oxygen; happiness and freedom; ocean and adventure. He waited for him, long enough to be ready to go out alone to fight Yonko, counting down the hours and minutes instead of the days.

Zoro's vision is drowned in red when the captain lunges at him, but Zoro is ready, always ready for the captain's sudden embrace; and remembers it; red and blue, instead of green and white; black hair instead of green; a wide toothy smile, instead of a farewell, shouting/whispering his name:

"Zoro".

"Zo-o-o-oro-o-o-o!", Luffy pulls, swinging, and Zoro almost falls, slapping his stupid captain on the spine. Luffy laughs, jumps, twirls, exudes joy in his appearance, only to stop for a second, and then abruptly approach. "Your eyes are orange", the captain says, very close, and Zoro sees the reflection in the black pupils. Somewhere in the background, Nami shouts something, and the others appear, but Zoro... doesn't run or drown; orange eyes burn in the dark and betray his; they want to take him as they took her; he promised; he promised her that…

"Zoro?"

Luffy's voice is a mix of question and concern, tied in knots like the ends of green hair. Behind Luffy, the Nakama are frozen, having caught something suspicious, and they are watching them closely, observer over them and caring idiots, as they always were. Luffy has his promises and his vows, which Zoro can't break with his abandoned past.

"Nothing, Captain", he smiles sincerely, "I missed you".

"Someday you will find people who will love you", the hand on his cheek is cold and painfully old, "I believe you will do better than I do. You're stronger than me, you're stronger than all of us. And you'll finish it".

'It's almost funny', Zoro thinks, as he spits out blood and finds a reflection of gray hair, with not-his-long-discarded, melted-down gold in his eyes.

"It's so disgusting of you to lie, shishou", shivers in his throat as the Kenbunshoku refuses to wake up.

"My name is Kuina".

"Zoro. I challenge you to a fight!"

He knew what he was doing by staying on this island. He knew how close he was to it. He knew how important it was for Luffy, Torao, everyone, to win this fight, this war. And he knew that he had been running away for too long; longer than anyone was allowed to, longer than anyone was allowed to.

But he couldn't lose this fight.

Even if it was his last breath. Even if he didn't become the world's greatest swordsman. Even if his entire body betrayed him, Wado was vibrating in his hand, and Luffy's voice seemed suspiciously loud and so far away in his ears.

"Join my team!"

"Why should I?"

"You're strong, and you're a good man".

He knew his time was up. After all, no earth and sun child in his village had ever lived longer than twenty. They had no right.

"You will live", he sees Shishou's tears for the first time, a dagger in his hands, which she forces him to take, "please, Zoro, run. Run and don't come back, never, no matter what", gray hair touches his face, the long white sleeves wipe the moisture from his cheeks that didn't belong to him, the old face smiles at him, imprinted in his memory forever, he drowns in white, "otherwise this island will kill you".

Shishou would have been so disappointed in him.