A/N:
So, like, listen. This has been sitting in my files for actual years and its angsty jaws remain poised to rip my throat out at any given moment. It is a monster in every sense of the word. By which I mean even I'm not exactly sure where this is going beyond the 170k I currently have written.
For now, just enjoy this intro to Zoro as I have crafted him through a traumatic past and miserable present. The trigger warning lists will be long because what haven't I shoe-horned in here? Roll with everyone's excessive cursing and possible OOCness, though I don't think the latter is too excessive. That's for you to decide.
There's A LOT I couldn't put in the summary thanks to FFn's stupid character limit. So the general situation is that this is a high school road trip AU, and all of the Straw Hats are around 17, finishing their third year of HS (I am American, but honestly school details don't weigh in too heavily here). I think that's all that's important for this first chapter. The universe here is vague as shit. Are we in the OP canon? A cross between that and our world? Maybe. Most likely.
Have fun, my dudes.
Current TW's: language (?), a large helping of self-hatred, the slightest hint of child abuse
He only realizes he should stop when he notices the smear of blood on his knuckles.
His chest heaves as he stares at the shreds of skin that remain, but he does nothing more than blink at the re-opened wound.
It's nothing fucking new.
His arm shoots outward, fist landing with a clap against Koshiro's padded mitt. Satisfaction curls in his stomach despite the pain. A smirk pulls at his mouth as he winds the other arm back, more strength in it than the last, but—
He swings at the air, tripping forward with the momentum. He almost falls ass over teakettle as he flails to regain balance.
"What the fuck, sensei?" he spits, rounding on the man with a glare.
"Language."
Zoro rolls his eyes. "Seriously? We're going to do this again? You know I'm not—"
"I know." Koshiro sighs, though the quirk to his lips says he's amused. "But what kind of authority figure would I be if I didn't at least try?"
Zoro swallows down a rush of bitterness, then stomps it into dust for good measure. He doesn't even let the thoughts that come with it form a skeleton. "The cool kind, maybe?"
Koshiro's smile turns wry. "I think I'm already cool enough for letting you stay here overnight after work, then wake me up far too early to spar..." He pauses, head tilting. "And then be very late for school."
Zoro's gaze snaps to the clock, dread sinking in when he registers the time. "Shit," he hisses, running for his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is— fuckin' great."
"Language," Koshiro reprimands, more firm than before. "Tomorrow's the last day. You can afford to skip, so I didn't think it would be a big deal."
"Yeah, uh, hell no... I gotta— I have to go. We've been at this for hours anyway." He stumbles backward, babbling to his teacher over his shoulder as he heads for the door. "I have... things to do. Kind of. Because we have an assembly!"
Because he already didn't go home last night, and if he stays now, he'll never work up the nerve to go back.
Koshiro blinks in the face of his student's panic. "You don't care about assembly, Zoro, why—"
"Okay, fine, I admit you're the coolest goddamn sensei ever," Zoro dismisses. He yanks the sliding door open and dashes through. "Bye!"
He makes it for the tail end of fourth period, and by then he goes straight to the cafeteria instead of class. Lunch is starting anyway.
The lunch ladies send him bewildered looks as he bursts through the doors, which, kind of yikes. He's sweating a river from sprinting the entire way, and the bloodied knuckles aren't doing him any favors. One of the ladies gives them the eye. He can't remember her name for the life of him.
He raises a fist, shrugging. "Got in a fight with a wall, y'know?"
She wrinkles her nose at him, nails tapping the counter with a metallic scritch. "Mm-hm," she hums. "Likely story."
Translation: bullshit. He suppresses a snicker, knowing she thinks he'd been fighting someone in the hallway. His stomach revs like a chainsaw the moment his eyes land on the spread of food.
He gives another helpless shrug toward the aghast lunch ladies.
They get over it with one last critical appraisal and shove a tray of food toward him. Zoro gets the feeling they hope it'll cure whatever bug is making him act like a starving dog.
"You're a weird kid, Roronoa."
"Thanks." Zoro huffs a laugh and snags the seat closest to the door. He can't tell them the bug is his life.
He only has a few minutes to scarf down half the tray — what the fuck is he even eating? — before the chattering roar of his fellow students catches up to him. He watches them line up for a minute, as others rush to save a table for their friend groups. Zoro weighs the pros and cons of staying.
In his peripheral, he sees a red blur claim a seat at the far end of his own table, tray dropping with a loud clunk. It's reminiscent of the way Zoro's stomach plummets to his toes at the thought of socializing.
Yeah, well, fuck that.
He surges upward, cursing the fact that the trash can is on the opposite end of the table. He's not enough of an inconsiderate shithead to abandon his half-eaten tray for the staff to pick up, especially since the lunch ladies didn't even charge him. He tries extra hard to ignore the person sitting right next to the trash can, only registers that loud shade of red.
An offended gasp stops him before he can throw away even a single fry.
He ignores it, tipping the tray forward with a bit of hesitation. A hand slams onto the table, and Zoro's entire chest seizes up before exploding in a jack-rabbit pulse. He flinches so bad he almost flings the whole tray to the ground.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Zoro blinks at the challenge in the voice, wrinkling his nose. "Throwing... my lunch away?"
"Exactly! That's stupid. You can't. It's blasphemy! Am I using that right? Whatever. I mean—" Ridiculous noises of protest fill the rest of his sentence. "You have meat."
Remaining frozen, he's unable to think of a snappy comeback. He stares at the turkey leg the other seems to be hosting a riot over and kind of wants to crawl out of his skin. An indignant huff makes him finally turn to look at the owner of the voice.
Brown eyes, so deep and dark they're black, stare holes into him. He might share a class or two with him, but Zoro couldn't name which ones to save his life. His heart spasms at the pout accenting the other boy's displeasure with him.
"Fucking what?" he asks. He's just— so confused.
Normally it takes a lot more to offend people. Normally, he'd be up in arms and snarling right back. But he didn't even do anything this time. He can't tell if that's what's throwing him off his game or if it's how absurd the argument is. How absurd this person is.
The boy makes grabby hands at his tray. "I'll take it if you don't want it, but geez, don't just throw it away!" He gasps and his hands begin digging through his pockets instead. "Wait, I think I have like... thirteen cents in here somewhere if you wanna trade."
"Um..." Zoro drops the tray on the table in front of him, succinct, eager to run the fuck away from this whole situation. "Just take it."
"Oh." The boy stops his erratic movements and fixes him in place with an awed stare, eyes raking him up and down. "That was easy!"
Easy.
The word is like a slap to the face.
Haven't you heard? Everyone else did. Can't believe you're so damn easy, Roronoa.
He can't tell what the kid means by it. If there's a subtext he should be reading loud and clear. Maybe not, because his grin— holy shit, his grin blinds Zoro. It makes him lose his footing and he does not like that.
He nods, not trusting himself to speak, and speed-walks away from whatever the fuck just happened.
Zoro ignores the shriek of, "Thank you!" that tries to follow him out.
Alvida is blessedly passed out when he gets home that night.
He isn't worried. She always wakes up no matter how much she drinks.
He relishes the silence her absence brings and lets himself relax in the place he's supposed to call home. Stares at the hole in his bedroom wall from two days ago, excess drywall dusting matted carpet. He flexes his hand, testing how raw it is after also overdoing it at the dojo, and wonders if she knows about it yet.
He can already feel the smack to the head, hear her screaming look what you did! God, what a violent asshole he is, and he's definitely going to pay for it. In money and in blood.
Zoro sits on his bed with a sigh. His stomach curls in anticipation as he throws himself back to blink at the ceiling.
He fucked up again, obviously, but—
Better the walls than her face, right?
*holds out tin can* So... spare reviews?