Zoro stood in the clearing behind an inn, sweat greasing his palms. The sun was hot on his face, and the sand stuck to his toes inside his boots.
A breeze teased strands of hair across his forehead.
"Ready Glasses?" he eyed her as she collected her long hair into a ponytail.
Unsheathing her sword was her answer.
Shigure was its name, wasn't it? He tried to recall the day at Ipponmatsu's shop. Until that day, swords were simply tools to use, and when he broke them, he would replace them without any attachment. That all changed thanks to the Katana maniac.
That bastard bugged me about respecting swords too.
"Are you sure you wanna fight in that?"
"I'll be fine," she caught the strap that fell over her shoulder, adjusting it in its place.
In a flash of silver, she lunged at him. Zoro countered with a slash, but the woman nimbly sidestepped, her dress swirling around her legs. She pivoted, bringing Shigure down in an overhead arc. The clash of steel echoed through the clearing as he crossed two swords to catch the blow.
"Not bad," he grunted.
The next swipe of her blade whistled by his ear, missing him by mere inches. Repetitive movements were easy to break; her technique was a practiced routine that she likely used when training with her men. Perhaps, she didn't have a good teacher and had practiced alone.
Was meeting her a coincidence? He wondered yet again.
While searching for the tavern, he bumped into her in front of an inn. He immediately ducked into a nearby alley. She was too much for him to handle right now, especially after their last encounter.
The woman was like a storm, sweeping through his mind and leaving him in chaos. He leaned against a wall but just as he closed his eye, he heard her footsteps.
"What are you doing here, Glasses?" Zoro crossed his arms over his chest.
"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted.
"None of your business."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm here on vacation. I thought I'd explore the island."
Zoro snorted. "Are you sure? It seems like you're stalking me."
"Stalking you? As if!"
"Why don't you just enjoy your vacation and leave me alone?" He spat out, growing annoyed with her presence.
"Says a wanted pirate to a Marine Captain." Her hand moved to rest on the hilt of her sword.
"So what?" Zoro pushed himself off the wall. "You wanna arrest me? Good luck with that."
A tense silence fell between them, broken only by the distant chatter of townspeople and the cry of seagulls overhead. Marine woman's fingers tightened around her katana, but she didn't draw it.
"Look," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not here to cause trouble. My crew's waiting for the Log Pose to set. Why don't we call a truce? Just for today."
She pondered for several agonizing minutes, her hand finally relaxing.
"Alright. But I have a condition: You have to spar with me."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, you have to be serious."
"That's not what I was—" He paused when he saw a smile she was trying to hide—the nerve of her.
"It's not every day I get the chance to cross swords with Roronoa Zoro without the pressure of duty." Her words oozed sarcasm.
Scoffing, he shook his head. At least she didn't accuse him of avoiding fighting women or piled on him with other absurd allegations.
"Aren't you on vacation?"
"I am. But that doesn't mean I can't improve my skills. Besides, isn't that what you're always doing?"
Zoro couldn't argue with that logic. He sensed her will to fight.
"Fine," he relented. "But not here. Let's go somewhere else."
"You're distracted," she noted sharply, cutting through his recollections.
"I'm doing what you told me to."
Per her request, he was on defense so he could point out flaws in her technique. He could, however, switch to offense any time he felt like it.
Besides Momo and a few other brats, he didn't have many opportunities to pass on what he had learned. Being a teacher wasn't so bad. After fulfilling his dream, he entertained the thought of opening a dojo.
Another strike clanged against his blades, pulling him back into the duel.
Glasses kept him close so that he couldn't use his reach against her. As they exchanged blows, he found himself hyper-aware of her every movement - the flex of her arms, the twist of her hips, the sheen of sweat on her collarbone. One of the spaghetti straps fell off her shoulder again.
It was time to go on the offensive and end it quickly.
Once the roles swapped, she kept deflecting his attacks with labored breath. He could tell that she wasn't used to fighting without rules.
Zoro brought the hilt of his sword down hard on her wrist, causing her to stumble back.
The woman recovered promptly, spinning away from his strike. She searched for an opening, but he left none. Each time she launched an attack, he countered with a potent blow that pushed her back into the alleyway.
Although he could easily break through her defenses, he chose to tire her so she couldn't ask for another round.
As their swords remained locked, a weird feeling stirred in his gut. It was like the crackle of lightning announcing a furious storm. Strands of hair plastered over her forehead and neck, while sweat trickled down her arms. He couldn't help but reminisce about the time they were drenched in the pouring rain with their swords intertwined.
A smirk rose to his lips. That was quite the trip down memory lane.
"Are you yielding, Glasses? You're gonna ruin your dress."
"I don't… think so," her breath came in quick, shallow bursts.
She kicked at his knee and attempted to slip away. He allowed her to advance to lure her in with a slight opening. The moment she took the bait, he hit her hand with Sandai's hilt.
Yelping, she dropped her sword.
"Surrender," Sandai's blade was inches away from her neck.
"You won't get rid of me that easily," she shot back.
"I just did," he pressed the cool metal against her neck. "When you are in a position like this, you should fight like a cornered cat," he stated. "Desperation makes people think of creative ways to save their life."
He leaned in so close that he could smell her.
Flowers and sweat, but no fear.
"In a serious duel against you… It wouldn't be so bad to die." Her lips curved in something that was not quite a smile.
He blinked. The woman he met in Loguetown and again at Punk Hazard would never say such words. It was almost as if...
"I'm starting to think you like me," he taunted.
"Hardly. It's simply a recognition of your skills," she declared breathlessly, trying to regain control.
This caught him off guard.
With surprising agility, she planted her foot against his chest and pushed off, propelling herself backward, out of his reach.
He stumbled briefly, which allowed her to scoop up her sword.
The tension thickened. In the back of his mind, her earlier words replayed.
Did she really come to respect his skills as a swordsman?
He charged at her, every swing aiming to disarm her for good and draw out the truth. But each strike only seemed to fuel her resolve. She danced around him, ducking low and striking high.
"Was that true?"
"What?" She spun to face him again, catching her breath long enough to block his next strike.
"What you said."
"I'm not a liar. Will you... keep your promise? You haven't said... anything about my skills."
Her praise bulleted through his brain. He never expected to get a compliment from Glasses of all people.
"You're quick. But how long can you keep this up?"
"Long enough to—" She miscalculated a thrust and stumbled sideways.
In an eyeblink, he closed the distance between them. Shigure spun from her hands and skated across the cobblestone.
The utter confusion on her face amused him. Indeed she was fast, but not as fast as him.
"Never engage in "fair" battles with someone twice your size. You can't beat my brute strength. But you can outsmart me. Use everything and anything at your disposal to defeat a physically stronger opponent. Grab a fistful of dirt and throw it into your enemy's face. Kick his crotch or use your body."
"I will never," her lips curled, "use shameful tactics." She glared at him.
"Shameful tactics?" He raised an eyebrow. "You think survival is shameful? In this world, you do whatever it takes."
She glared at him, yet beneath the bravado, he could see a flicker of doubt. "You think it's that simple?"
"It is." He stepped back, sheathing his swords. "You're still trying to fight me fair and square despite knowing the difference in our strength, physique, and technique. I'm also a pirate. What makes you think I'll uphold your morals?"
She straightened, brushing dirt from her dress. "You're a bad teacher, Roronoa."
"I did what you asked me to."
"I guess," she pouted, massaging her joints. "At least you're candid. Not bad for a pirate."
"What about my prize?"
"Excuse me? We never agreed on that."
"C'mon. I've earned a drink."
"Fine, but just one."
"One? Don't be a cheapskate."
"I've seen how much you can drink. I would go bankrupt." She picked up her sword.
"How 'bout a bottle?"
"I'll think about it."
He followed her as she made her way to the inn.
Why women made a fuss about a speck of dirt on their clothes and a little sweat, was beyond him. A faint noise of guests chatting and laughing reached his ears as he stood in the hallway. He adjusted his swords a couple of times, having nothing better to do.
Ten minutes later, she emerged from her room with her hair down and in a different dress. Instead of a sword, she carried a purse.
"There's a bar down the street," she marched past him, and he caught a hint of her perfume.
He fell into step beside her, matching her brisk pace. The evening air was pleasant against his skin, a welcome relief after their sparring.
As they walked, he couldn't help but sneak glances at her. With her hair down she looked different — softer somehow, yet still carrying that air of stubbornness and preachiness.
They entered the bar, a cozy establishment with warm lighting and the low hum of conversation. The sparse crowd mainly consisted of men.
Glasses had secured their seats at the end of the bar, giving him a tactical view of the entire place. It seemed neither one of them wanted their backs exposed.
He smirked at their shared sense of caution.
"So, what's your poison?" she asked, sinking into her seat.
"Whatever's on tap. You're buying, after all."
She sighed loudly but signaled the barkeeper, ordering two draft beers. As they waited, he glowered at the men around them.
He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to spark a conversation.
"You know," he began, "In a fight—"
"We're not discussing that again," she cut him off. "I have my principles, and I won't compromise them."
He noticed her rigid posture and the stubborn set of her jaw. Her chin tilted up slightly like she was daring him to challenge her.
"Life isn't black and white. Sometimes you have to make tough choices to survive."
She opened her mouth to retaliate, but the bartender arrived with their drinks.
"My principles are what keep me sane," she almost shouted. "If I abandon them, what's left?"
"Fair enough. But your principles won't save you from a dirty fight or death. Did you forget about Punk Hazard?"
A shadow passed over her face, and he wondered if he'd pushed too far. She took a long swig of her beer, oblivious to the lecherous looks the bartender was giving her.
Coughing, she inhaled and exhaled.
"It almost seems like... you care about me, Roronoa."
His heart lurched.
"Don't flatter yourself, Glasses."
"Another one, sweetheart?" The sleazy bartender interrupted as his eyes zeroed in on her chest.
Zoro put his hand along the back of her chair.
"I'll have another one."
The bartender looked at him as if he was a pesky fly. "Right away."
"I can handle myself, you know."
"I know," he grunted. "But I don't like the way they are looking at you."
She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Is that why you're so insistent on me fighting dirty? Some misguided attempt to protect me?"
He snorted. "Don't read too much into it. I'm just keeping it real."
"Keeping it real, huh? That's rich coming from you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I've seen how you are with your crew. You care more than you let on."
He didn't reply, downing the rest of his drink. Before he could ask for more, a beer landed by his elbow with a solid thud.
"Anything else I can get you?" The bastard was addressing her again.
"Top-shelf liquor for me and my companion, please. It's my birthday."
He recoiled slightly but kept himself in check.
"If I have to carry you out of here, it's gonna be over my shoulder, like the last time," he loudly proclaimed to the pests around them.
Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare."
"I can do whatever I want. It's not like you were against it last time."
Her cheeks turned pink, but she didn't back down.
"That was different. We were... That was… The gas was… You're a huge jerk, Roronoa! I told you to leave me!"
He leaned in closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I never said you owed me anything. But if you're gonna act all high and mighty about your principles, maybe you should remember who's seen you at your most vulnerable."
Her breath hitched at his words, her fists tightening.
The bartender slid two glasses of amber liquid their way. "No need to worry sweetheart. It will be a pleasure to return you home."
"Like hell you will."
This guy reminded him of the Ero cook too much.
"Do you offer such services to every customer? How noble of you," Glasses replied coldly. "I think the gentleman over there needs it."
"I was just—"
"I'll pretend I didn't hear the suspicious proposition. You're lucky I'm off duty."
Zoro smirked from ear to ear. When her frustration was aimed at someone else it was amusing.
"Apologies. This is on the house." He reached under the bar counter and grabbed the bottle of the same amber liquid he had served them moments before.
"I don't need brib—"
"Leave it and get lost. Don't test my patience again."
The man paled and nodded, scurrying to the other side of the bar. Did he finally realize who he was fucking with? Infamy served him well at times.
He gripped the glass and drained it in a second.
"I'm gonna investigate this place tomorrow. This guy is shady."
A roaring laughter escaped him and made him spit a bit of his drink. This woman only had a marine mode.
"You're not investigating anything tomorrow. You'll be too busy nursing a hangover."
She scowled at him. "I can handle my liquor just fine, thank you very much."
"Sure you can."
She eyed the glass for a second before taking a small sip. Her face scrunched up. "This is awful."
"It's the good stuff," Zoro downed his in one gulp. "You'll get used to it."
She took another sip, grimacing. "I doubt that."
"So, why are you drinking alone on your birthday? No Marine buddies to celebrate with?"
Her shoulders slumped slightly. "They... they don't know. I prefer to keep it that way. Only Smoker does."
Zoro tilted his head. "You're not gonna deny that you wanted to drink alone?"
"No."
"Well, looks like you're stuck celebrating with a pirate."
"I suppose there are worse fates," she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
"You hurt my feelings."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "I didn't realize you had feelings."
"Only on special occasions. Like a certain Marine's birthday."
She fidgeted with her glass, tracing the rim with her finger. "Surely you have better things to do than drink with the enemy."
"Hey, a free drink is a free drink. Even if it's from a Marine."
She brought a glass to her lips, this time managing not to grimace at the taste. "I'm starting to think you're just using me for the alcohol."
"Nah. The company's not bad either."
She couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'm flattered. I think."
The alcohol was doing its thing. Her posture loosened as she consumed more liquor with less hesitation.
Zoro embraced the comfortable buzz the alcohol created. He touched her shoulder, his fingers instinctively tracing the bite marks that marred her skin.
She flinched at the contact, but the tension in her shoulders eased almost immediately.
"What does a Marine Captain do for fun on her birthday? Besides drinking with notorious pirates, of course." He retracted his hand, pretending like nothing happened.
"Work, mostly. Maybe treat myself to a nice dinner if I have the time." She covered her skar with her hand.
"That's it? No cake? No presents? Party?"
"It's just another day," she said softly, staring into her glass. "It hasn't felt special in a long time."
She had a faraway look in her eyes that he didn't understand.
"I'm going to take a leak. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone."
He didn't catch her response as he maneuvered through, the now, packed bar, making his way to the restroom. The smell of alcohol wafted as he approached it, and he followed his nose to the ajar door right across from the toilet.
His target was carrying out more stash of liquor from the basement. He waited for him to put the case down before he grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the wall.
"Don't kill me, Pirate Hunter!" He stuttered, struggling against Zoro's iron grip. "I didn't know she was your woman!"
"You got any cake?"
"W-What? I-I don't understand."
"I need a cake." He growled at the man. "And a candle."
"But we don't have any—"
"I don't care. Make it happen, or I'll give you another breathing hole."
The bartender gulped and nodded frantically. "Okay, okay! I'll see what I can do. Just... let me go, please."
He released him. "And if you come onto her again… or look at her... or even breathe in her direction, I'll make sure you regret it. Got it? Spread the word."
The bartender nodded vigorously. "Y-Yes, sir. Understood."
Zoro watched him scamper away, then made his way back to his seat. The woman was still nursing her drink.
She looked up as he approached.
"Everything alright?"
"What? Did you miss me?"
"I was starting to think you'd gotten lost," she chuckled.
"Very funny."
A few minutes later, the bartender appeared before them, slightly out of breath. He held a plate with a slice of fruit pie with whipped cream hastily piled on top. A single candle flickered atop it.
"H-Happy birthday," he stammered, placing the plate in front of Glasses.
She blinked, looking from the dessert to Zoro and back again. "What's this?"
"You're supposed to blow out a candle and make a wish or something."
"You didn't have to—"
"Just blow out the damn candle before the wax drips all over it," he ordered, but there was no real bite to his words. Her eyes met his over the flickering candle flame, and fluttering filled his stomach.
The candle extinguished with a soft puff, leaving behind a thin trail of smoke that curled between them.
She dipped her index finger into the whipped cream and licked it off.
Zoro felt his throat go dry. He quickly averted his gaze, pouring himself another drink.
"It's good. Want to try some?" She scooped up a bit of pie and cream on her fork and held it out to him. He leaned forward and accepted the offered bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a stark contrast to the bitterness of the alcohol, making him want to vomit.
He reached for his drink to wash away the cloying taste.
"Not to your liking, I take it?"
"I prefer drinking."
"I've noticed," she pushed the plate away. "It doesn't really go well with our drink, but I appreciate the gesture."
"I had nothing to do with it. That bastard wanted to bribe you."
"Of course," she propped her chin in her hand, observing him.
"Enough of that. Let's toast." Zoro raised his glass. "Happy Birthday, Glasses."
"Thank you," she clanked her glass against his.
.
.
.
An hour later, she was slurring her words. Zoro couldn't help but snicker as she struggled to form coherent sentences. Her cheeks were red, and her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose.
"You had enough," he gently plucked the half-full glass from her hand.
"You'rw noy as bad as I thoutht you wwre," she reached up and cupped his cheek.
"Come on, Glasses. Up you go," he took her hand in his.
She blinked owlishly at him. As she stood up, she stumbled, falling against his chest. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
"Oops," she giggled, her breath warm against his chest. "The fooor's moving."
His gut churned as if he had consumed too much cheap alcohol.
The woman looked up at him, her eyes unfocused behind her crooked glasses. "You... smell… like swords", the tip of her nose pressed against him, and then her cheek. Her hands came around his waist.
He had to swallow twice and clear his throat to locate his voice.
"S... Snap out of it, Glasses!" He tried to pry her hands off him, but her grip was firm.
"No," she nuzzled closer. "You're warm."
Zoro gritted his teeth. This was dangerous territory. He knew he should push her away, but his body refused to cooperate.
"Tashigi." He still sounded as if he'd scraped his vocal cords with sandpaper. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing."
"Di you nate me?" Her chin rested on his chest as she peered up at him. Her eyes were sucking him in.
"I don't hate you."
"Then why..." she trailed off, her brow furrowing. "Why do ylu always run from me?"
"You're a Marine. I'm a pirate." He felt dumb for answering foolish questions.
"But rignt now... We're… just us."
Her words struck him like a punch to the gut. In his arms was not an enemy, but a woman he liked.
"Tashigi," he mouthed her name again, his resolve crumbling.
She tilted her face up, her lips parting slightly. Zoro cursed himself for being so weak. His hand moved of its own accord, cupping her nape.
Tipping back her head, he dropped his mouth over hers. A breathy purr escaped her as he sucked gently on her lips. Gripping the side of his neck, she opened her mouth wide and he captured her tongue, sucking it with a few gruff moans.
His pulse raced in his ears, his body shuddering as he tried to remain in control.
The reality came crashing back as voices echoed around them. Zoro jerked away, his heart pounding.
This was a mistake.
"Whoa..." She spoke. "I... can't... see abythimg."
Her glasses had steamed over.
Her face came into focus when he removed them. Her eyes were half-closed, and her cheeks were flushed. He couldn't help but feel the urge to kiss her again, but he knew it would only bring more confusion into his life.
In one swift motion, he scooped her up in his arms. She let out a small squeak of surprise, her arms instinctively enclosing around his neck.
"Pur me dowg…" She protested weakly, but her head was already lolling against his shoulder.
"Let's go, Glasses," he muttered, making his way out of the bar.
They stumbled out into the brisk night air. The streets were quiet, most of the town's inhabitants having retired for the evening. Zoro tightened his grip, trying to shield her shivering body. He walked briskly, hoping to get Tashigi back to her room in the inn before she passed out completely.
"Where we goin'?" she mumbled against his neck, her breath tickling his skin. Her purse jabbed at his ribs.
"Taking you to your room," he tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest.
"Don'wanna go," she whined, nuzzling closer. "Wanna stay with yiu."
Zoro nearly tripped over his own feet at her words. He steadied himself, cursing under his breath. This woman was going to kill him.
"You don't know what you're saying."
Her fingers traced the scar over his chest, sending shivers through him.
Zoro froze.
"Does it hurt?" Her voice was clear.
"Sometimes."
Tashigi's hand fell limply, her momentary clarity fading as quickly as it had come. She mumbled something incoherent and nestled her head against his chest.
The inn loomed ahead, a welcome sight.
"She drank too much." He explained faintly to the innkeeper, who yawned. He wordlessly slapped a key on the counter, and Zoro gritted his teeth yet again. What if he was some scumbag that would take advantage of her?
He did see me today following her to her room.
He carefully maneuvered up the narrow staircase, mindful of her head.
When they reached her room, he fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the door without jostling her awake. Finally, the lock clicked, and he shouldered his way inside.
The room was small but tidy, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Zoro gently lowered her onto the bed, her arms sliding from his shoulders as he set her down.
He stood there for a moment. Without thinking, he reached out and removed her glasses, folding them neatly next to her. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her soft cheek.
Zoro quickly pulled his hand back.
"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered under his breath.
His hand was on the doorknob when he heard Tashigi stir behind him.
"Zoro..."
Turning, he saw she was still asleep. His shoulders relaxed.
She was just talking in her sleep.
He took one last look at the slumbering marine captain.
"Goodnight, Tashigi," he slipped out the door.