A faint sound drifted through Nami's mind, pulling her from the depths of sleep. It was soft at first, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. But as the sound grew, it became more apparent—distinct—a child's voice.

She stood in the middle of an endless field, golden grass swaying around her. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the quiet sobs of a little boy.

Her heart twisted at the sound. "Hey," she called out, her voice soft but urgent. "It's okay. Where are you?"

The sobs didn't stop, but they seemed to shift, coming from somewhere just out of reach. Nami moved forward, the golden grass parting as she searched for the source. Finally, she saw him—a small boy with messy green hair, crouched low with his back to her. His tiny shoulders shook with every cry, and in his hands, he clutched a sword far too big for him.

"Hey," she said again, kneeling beside him. "What's wrong?"

The boy didn't answer; his sobs muffled as he hugged the sword tighter. Nami reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing his shoulder.

He froze.

Before she could say anything else, the boy turned to look at her—and her breath caught in her throat. His crimson eyes burned like embers, and his tear-streaked face was eerily familiar.

"Why didn't you help me?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

"I… I did—" Nami began, but the words died on her lips.

The boy's form began to dissolve, his sobs turning into a hollow echo that reverberated in her chest. The golden field around her faded, replaced by darkness and the faint crackle of a fire.

Nami jolted awake, her heart racing.

The clearing came into focus, the firelight casting shadows across the ground. She blinked, disoriented, her breath coming in shallow gasps. For a moment, she thought she was alone—until she saw him.

Zoro sat a few feet away, his back against a tree. His eyes were closed, his head tilted slightly, but she could tell he wasn't asleep. The flickering flames cast sharp lines across his face, making his features look even more chiseled and unyielding.

Still shaken, Nami rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Why… why were you crying?"

Zoro's eyes snapped open, and he turned his crimson gaze toward her. His brows furrowed slightly. "What?"

"You were crying," she repeated, her voice quieter this time. "I… I heard you."

Zoro stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint grunt, he leaned back against the tree. "I wasn't crying."

Nami frowned, her fingers tightening around the strap of her satchel. "I heard a little boy. He was crying, holding a sword…"

Her voice trailed off as Zoro's jaw tightened. His crimson eyes flicked back to the fire, and for a moment, she thought she saw something—something vulnerable—flicker in his gaze. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual stoic mask.

"It was just a dream," he said flatly.

Nami wanted to press him, to ask if he'd had the same dream, but something in his tone stopped her. She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest as the memory of the boy lingered in her mind.

"You know," she said softly, breaking the silence, "it's okay to cry. Even demons have feelings, right?"

Zoro glanced at her, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not a demon."

"Then, what are you?"

"Zoro." He said matter-of-factly.

"Right..." Nami realized her manners must have left her when she met him—the "not a demon."

The fire cast flickering shadows across the clearing, its warmth a small comfort against the weight of her thoughts. Nami pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as her gaze drifted to the "man" across from her. Zoro. Even at rest, he exuded a quiet, coiled power, like a blade waiting to strike.

Her eyes lingered on the swords at his side. The white-sheathed one stood out most—pristine and simple, yet somehow more ominous than the others. It felt alive, as though it were watching her, waiting for something. She shivered involuntarily, remembering the stories she'd heard from priests and sages about cursed blades and the mortals who carried them.

"Cursed swords reflect the heart of their wielder," one priest had said, his voice trembling as if the very memory unsettled him. "They amplify what's already there—anger, sorrow, hatred. They don't just destroy the body. They twist the soul."

Belle-mère's voice echoed in her mind, overlapping with the priest's warning. "Swords like that… they can reveal a person's true self. If their heart is strong, they'll resist the curse. But if they're already broken…"

Her gaze flicked back to Zoro. His molten-gold skin shimmered faintly in the firelight, the strange markings etched into it pulsing with a barely perceptible rhythm as though they were alive. His wings were gone now, folded back into his body, but the memory of them lingered in her mind—the jagged, claw-like appendages that had looked more like something torn from a nightmare than part of a man.

Was he ever just a man? she wondered, her chest tightening. Everything about him felt larger than life—his strength, his presence, his sheer otherworldliness. And yet, beneath the power and the danger, she sensed something else. Something fractured.

She glanced at the swords again, her fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of her satchel. Did it start with them? On her journey, she'd seen cursed mortals before, their humanity eroded by dark magic or their unchecked desires. Some had been born innocent, and others had fallen after touching cursed relics or eating forbidden fruits. All of them had the same haunted look, as though a part of them was already dead.

Zoro didn't look haunted. He looked… bound.

The priests had warned her about that, too. "A strong enough curse will bind you to it. It becomes a part of you, inseparable. And if your heart is weak…"

Nami shuddered, remembering the priest's grim expression as he trailed off. But Zoro isn't weak, she thought, clinging to the idea. He couldn't be, not with the way he fights, the way he carries himself.

And yet, she couldn't ignore the questions clawing at the back of her mind. Was it the swords that had twisted him? Or was this who he had always been, the curse merely pulling it to the surface? And what about the markings on his skin, the wings that folded and disappeared so unnaturally? The sages had spoken of transformations like his before—of mortals turned into demons, their bodies warped by dark forces, their souls corrupted.

Was that what happened to Zoro? she wondered, her gaze drifting to him again. Did he carry the curse of a Devil Fruit, his body twisted by its power? Or was it something more sinister? Something darker?

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She thought of Belle-mère again, her quiet wisdom etched into Nami's memory. "It's not just curses, Nami. People can carry their demons, too. Fear, anger, grief—they'll eat you alive if you let them."

What did Zoro carry? Nami stared at him, her mind racing with questions she didn't dare ask. She thought of the way he had moved earlier, precise and controlled but with a fury that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than instinct. She thought of the way his wings had unfurled, jagged and terrifying, before folding back into his body as though they had never been there at all.

Zoro shifted slightly, drawing her attention back to the present. His crimson eyes flicked toward her, catching her staring. For a moment, they held her gaze, and she felt her breath hitch.

"What are you thinking about, witch?" he asked, his tone as sharp as the blades at his side.

Nami hesitated, her fingers tightening around her knees. "You," she admitted softly, surprising even herself. "What you are. What you've been through."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out. But then he looked away, his gaze settling on the fire again. "You think you know me?"

"No," she said quickly, her voice steady. "But I think you're not as monstrous as you want me to believe."

That got his attention. His head tilted slightly, his gaze cutting back to her. "And what makes you think that?"

She hesitated, then said, "Because I've seen monsters. And you don't look like them. You look like someone who's still fighting."

Zoro didn't respond, but the flicker of something—surprise, maybe even respect—passed over his face before he turned back to the fire.

Nami let the silence linger, her thoughts swirling. She didn't know what had made him this way, but she could feel the weight of it pressing down on him like a second skin. Whatever it was—curse, magic, or something else entirely—she wasn't sure he'd ever be free of it.

But maybe, just maybe, he hadn't given up yet.

"You can't fool me," she muttered, her lips quirking into a faint, teasing smile. But when he didn't respond, her expression softened. "Seriously, though. If something's bothering you, you can—"

"Stop," he said, his tone sharper now.

Nami blinked, startled by the sudden edge in his voice. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue when she saw the look in his eyes.

He wasn't angry. He wasn't annoyed. He was… guarded. He turned away from her again, but something was nagging at her core—these swords.

She shuffled closer. Closer. Drawn in by what she felt was a heartbeat - and without noticing, she had extended her hand. Only to have his clawed hand grip her wrist with a fierce hold.

"What are you doing?" he snarled. For a moment, Nami felt afraid. Since they first met, this look had been the most terrifying. His nostrils flared, his teeth bared, and those red eyes dug into her as much as his sharp hands dug into her skin.

She whimpered, "Let me go."

"Stealing the devil fruit, witch?" He accused.

Nami hadn't realized that Zoro was holding the precious cargo on him. He must have assumed that when she reached for his sword, she was trying to take it.

She frowned, "I am no thief."

The grip Zoro had on Nami's wrist was firm, but there was something about her skin—it wasn't just warm; it burned like she carried a fire just beneath her surface. A warmth that felt like it was trying to draw him in, to pull him closer without his consent. He wasn't used to something so small feeling so… dangerous.

"Then you must be a witch," he said, his voice low, rough, and deliberate, as if naming her would give him back some control.

"I am not," she snapped, yanking her arm, though his grip didn't falter.

"Then what was that light?" His crimson eyes bore into her, demanding answers she wasn't ready to give. "The power?"

"I—I don't know," she stammered, her voice faltering. She looked down, her other hand clutching at the strap of her satchel like a lifeline. "But…"

"But what?" Zoro pressed, his voice softening just enough to make her glance back up. Her wide eyes met his, and he found himself leaning in before he could stop.

"I don't care about power or money," she said finally, her voice trembling with an honesty that caught him off guard. Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head as if shaking loose a thought too heavy to hold. "What good is treasure if I'm alone?"

Her words hit him like a sword strike—not because of what she said, but because of how she said it. There was no hesitation, no doubt—just raw, aching truth.

His grip loosened slightly, his claws brushing against her skin without scratching. "And are you?" he asked, the words slipping out before he realized he'd spoken. His voice was quieter now, almost questioning.

"Am I what?" she asked, confused.

"Alone."

He didn't realize how close he was leaning until her breath hitched, her amber eyes wide as she looked up at him. The firelight danced between them, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if the world had stilled, holding its breath.

Was she? Was he? The thought hung in the air, unanswered, as they stared at each other, the weight of their words settling heavily between them.

She watched him lick his lips, Nami's eyes suddenly glued to the way the light of the flame danced across the wetness and the shimmering gold of his skin and earrings.

His nostrils flared slightly, catching a scent. "Oranges," he whispered.

"What?" she asked in a daze.

"Your scent," he said, leaning closer to inhale. "It's faint, but… oranges."

Nami blinked, caught off guard, and patted her face as if to stop the rushing blood as she scurried away. "Oh, uh… yeah. Mikans." She smiled faintly. "I grew up in an orchard."

He grunted, leaning back slightly. "I heard somewhere they're good luck."

Her smile widened, and a flicker of warmth softened her expression. "They are. My mother always said so. She used to say that if you give someone a mikan, you're wishing them happiness. That's why I—" She stopped herself, hesitating before adding softly, "That's why I'm doing all of this. My sister… she's the only family I have left, and if I don't find a way to help her…"

"So, that's why you went to Luffy?" he asked, as if suddenly in the mood for conversation.

"Yes, well...demons, kings, all of them are the same, aren't they? Leading me from one dead end to another."

But Zoro's gaze was firm. "Luffy will be the King. He is not someone to doubt."

Nami snorted, "The King? He's a clown if you ask me."

At first, Zoro seemed indigent. But then his gaze softened, "Well, that's Luffy...stupid yet powerful."

She was curious now. "So, you have known him long then?"

"I am one of his wings."

"His wings?"

He looked up at the sky, a gentle smile coming over his otherwise hard face. "I will take him to his goals...that is my desire."

"Your only desire?"

She meant to ask it innocently, but there was something in the way he looked - the way he spoke of Luffy, that made her heart twist.

"No...I desired to be the greatest swordsman."

"And...now...you don't?"

"I can achieve both by being at his side."

"His side..." Nami thought about the boy who seemed foolish yet fierce. "Yes, well...he is...interesting. His..." she blushed as she fidgeted suddenly with her dress. "His lover as well."

Zoro snorted as he rolled his eyes, "A new one every season, it seems. Very few can escape him."

"And you?" Nami had a question stuck in her throat, but she did not manage to get it out in the way she meant it.

"Me?"

"A-are you...his...y-you know...his, um..." The blush was growing deeper and deeper, and Zoro watched her confused until her intention dawned on him.

He bellowed a laugh, and Nami was taken aback at first. This was the first time she heard such joy coming from his fearsome body. Zoro leaned back and grinned.

"Yes, well...no, not in that way, witch. But I owe him my life..."

"Your life?" A bit relieved at his answer but unsure why.

Zoro cleared his throat and cracked his neck, staring into the fire as if it held all the secrets Nami wished to know.

"I don't...don't remember much. Luffy found me, half dead...bound to the Treasure Tree Adam."

"The Treasure Tree Adam?" Nami's eyes grew wide. She had heard stories of the magic tree within the land of the giants. It was a remnant of an ancient time of witches and when gods did walk the earth. But she also knew that being bound to it meant death. The Treasure Tree Adam was used as a final resting place for the immortals...and anyone else meant to be erased from the world forever. "How?"

"As I said, I don't remember. All I know is that I was bound to it, my swords at my side when Luffy found me."

"They say you're a bad guy..." the pink-eyed man with the magic of the clouds surrounding him.

"You're still here?" the bleeding creature asked.

"They left you out here to be publicly humiliated." He smiled with a tilt of his head. "Are you actually strong?"

Zoro growled, though blood poured out of his giant chest wound and his mouth as he spoke, "Mind your own business!"

Luffy swirled up, floating back and forth in front of Zoro. "I would have escaped in less than three days."

"I've got more willpower than you," he scoffed in response. Then he grinned, "I'm going to survive this! Don't you forget it!"

Luffy looked at the demon as the trunk had already dove into the open parts of his flesh. It was actively sucking out his life force, but also something more. Luffy knew this was no mere accident. Nor could a mortal, shaman or not, could have done this. Only one of the four Emperors could manage to twist The Treasure Tree Adam to consume power like this swordsman's.

Luffy laughed, "Well, suit yourself."

He was about to fly away when Zoro called after him, "Hold on...could you bring me that?"

Luffy followed Zoro's line of sight and noted the broken and bruised fruit at the bottom of the tree.

"You're gonna eat this?" he asked, doubtful and slightly disgusted. "It's just a bunch of squished oranges."

Zoro grew furious, his long green hair flailing as he shook his head. "Shut up and give it to me!"

Luffy watched him, those red eyes flashing as the human soul that was already lost had some spark left in that cursed body. He smirked and tossed the fruit into his bloodied and fanged mouth. Zoro chewed the fruit, skin and all, hungrily. He coughed as he ate the dirt and blood.

"Told ya so," Luffy said as he brushed his hands clean.

"It was delicious," Zoro said with hooded eyes. A memory keeping him alive somehow. "Thank you for the food," he said quietly. Though Luffy recognized he was not saying it to him...but to someone else, deep within the recesses of his mind.

It was at that moment that Luffy decided the Demon Lord was going to be his best friend.

"Wow, if I had known you liked mikan, I would have brought more..." she said, having been engrossed in Zoro's story. Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the fire, lost in thought. The silence stretched between them until she noticed Zoro's gaze on her again. She felt her cheeks heat, suddenly self-conscious under his piercing stare.

"W-what?" she stammered.

"There's a spider in your hair," he deadpanned.

Her hand shot to her head, her fingers brushing against something hairy but certainly not small. The moment she felt it move, she froze. Slowly, she tilted her head up—and her blood ran cold.

It wasn't just a spider—it was a monster. The creature had merely placed one of its hairy legs near her hair as its eight glowing eyes glared at her.

She screamed.

Before she could even think, Zoro moved; in one swift motion, he yanked the creature from behind her and hurled it to the ground. The spider hissed, its legs scrambling as it reared up, revealing sharp fangs dripping with venom. Nami crawled back, her heart pounding as Zoro stepped between her and the monstrous arachnid.

The spider lunged, but Zoro was faster. With a single, precise strike, he cleaved it in two, its body crumpling to the ground. He kicked the remains toward the fire, the flames roaring as they consumed the creature.

Nami pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. "Are all your rescues this traumatic?" she muttered, half to herself.

"You'll survive," Zoro said, his tone dismissive. He reached down and pulled something from the fire—a charred spider leg. Holding it out to her, he said, "Here. Eat."

She recoiled in disgust. "What?! No way!"

"You'll need to toughen up if we're going to make it past these woods. There are tales of ghosts and a man hunting for beautiful women," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Then he teased, "But I suppose you would be okay."

Nami's eyebrow twitched with indignation. "Why you!" She picked up rocks and twigs and tossed them at him, who only laughed as he ate his roasted spider.

She continued her assault. Now, riffling through her bag and tossing what she could spare. "And toughen up?" she scoffed, "Why don't you toughen up! Or would you like me to put you on your backside again!"

Zoro snorted, "Oh? Is that before you fall asleep because you've knocked yourself out, witch?"

She grabbed a mikan without thinking and tossed it, "Just you watch! Next time, I'll knock you out for good, Zoro!"

He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, and as the mikan made its way to his head, he caught it in one hand and smiled.

Nami realized she had launched not only her dinner but also the last remnants of her home, and she cried out, "Wait—give that back!"

He peered at the small fruit in his hand, giving it a sniff. "Hmm...maybe for dessert, I'll-"

But it was too late. Nami crashed into him, pinning him to the ground and attempting to take the mikan from his large palm. She stretched her body against him, his longer and taller frame keeping the small fruit within her eyeline but out of her reach. She wiggled, trying to inch herself forward as she protested.

Then, a gruff voice underneath asked, "So is this how you get what you want, witch?"

She paused momentarily to look down at his face, the cocky grin set in supernatural beauty. "What are you talking...ing about?"

Her voice drifted off as she realized she was indeed straddling this man she had just met, pressing her much softer flesh into the groves of his muscles. Her dress was already small, but between her journeys and getting flung into the sky, it was barely holding together. The tears and gaps where her smooth skin showed were all the more evident in the firelight.

Her face was turning a shade of pink again, and Zoro was going to tease her until he remembered the last time she looked like that.

"Wait, Nami, don't-"

Another flash, and this time, Zoro might as well have been sucker-punched by one of the giants from Elbaph. The wave of energy blasted out from her, crushing him deeper into the ground and putting out the fire.

"Ah...I'm...sorry..." was all she managed as she passed out on top of him, snoring softly. Her fingertips brushed the mikan that Zoro managed not to squeeze into juice.

"This woman is going to be the end of me..." he managed as the smoke from the extinguished fire rose into the twilight.