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It felt less like an invitation and more like a challenge he couldn’t meet.

When he’d applied for the Risk Manager position at his father’s company, he’d been drifting. He had no plan, no clear want, just a constant sense that he was supposed to be doing something with his life and wasn’t. The title had sounded promising at the time. Risk. The word carried weight. Danger. Decisions that mattered. A job that might force him to sharpen himself into shape.

It had done that, in a way… Just not the way he’d imagined.

There was nothing dangerous about managing risk for a luxury wine company. There was no edge, no adrenaline. Just twelve-hour days spent combing through contracts, drafting reports, and cleaning up after executives who signed off on deals without reading the fine print. Zoro was the one sent in after the damage was done: quietly calculating losses, smoothing over liabilities, making sure nothing reflected poorly on Mihawk's brand.

Even the meetings were bloodless. Nothing but polite smiles, carefully chosen words, and people eager to sell Kuraigana Wine in their establishments. So many people treated the brand like a status symbol instead of what it was: fermented grapes in an expensive bottle.

Zoro should have finished this report a week ago.

The document on his screen was supposed to outline the risks and benefits of partnering with a new up-and-coming hotel chain. This should be a simple task. He’d written dozens like it before, but tonight, his hands hovered uselessly over the keyboard. 

Perhaps this was burnout. It would explain why his thoughts felt like they were packed too tight in his head, making it feel heavy. 

He just needed silence. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

The unwelcomed sound of the kitchen door closing snapped through the quiet. Zoro’s jaw tightened, a growl escaped his lips. He kept his eyes on the screen, and willed the irritation to settle. A second later, the unmistakable twist of a bottle cap followed.

His irritation flared hot in his chest.

“If you growl at me one more time, I will snap your laptop in half.”

Zoro turned in his chair, his glare quickly locked onto a pair of familiar large, round eyes.

His sister, Perona, stood behind him, pink hair pulled into a messy bun and oversized pajamas hanging off her shoulders. She was holding a plastic bottle in one hand and wore a glare that matched his own.

“I wasn’t growling,” Zoro muttered, teeth clenched. “And even if I was, I doubt you’d hear it over all the noise you’re making.”

Perona scoffed, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. The bottle crunched in her grip as her expression sharpened.

“What is up your ass?!” she snapped, stalking closer. “Even breathing around you sets you off lately.”

Zoro turned back toward the screen as his shoulders became tense. The cursor still blinked like it had the nerve to wait him out.

“Tomorrow’s the deadline to get this report on Mihawk’s desk,” Zoro ground out. “He meets with these clients on Monday.”

Perona rolled her eyes.

“You’re off the clock,” she said, then flicked the side of Zoro's head. “Just call him dad when you’re at home, weirdo.”

Zoro swatted at her on reflex, but she had already darted out of range with a smug grin.

“And you’re needlessly stressing yourself out,” Perona added, hopping up onto the edge of the table beside him. Before Zoro could react, she snapped the laptop shut with a decisive click.

“OI!!!” 

Zoro shot to his feet, chair scraping loudly across the floor. A whole list of creative threats burned on the tip of his tongue, but Perona lifted a single finger, silencing him as she calmly took a long drink from her bottle.

Zoro’s eye twitched. His irritation curdled in his chest the longer she made him wait.

Finally, she lowered both the bottle and her finger.

“When was the last time you took a break?”

Zoro blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“I went to the gym this morning.”

Perona stared at him flatly, completely unimpressed by the answer.

“I mean a real break, you muscle-head.” Her leg bounced as she spoke, the table creaking beneath her with each impatient movement. “As in taking time off work. Talking to people. Social interaction that isn’t with family or business associates. When was the last time you met with friends? Or…” she waved a hand vaguely, “I don’t know, go on a date.”

Zoro’s glare sharpened, but it wasn’t aimed at her.

It was turned inward.

His thoughts stalled, grinding uselessly against the question as he tried to pull up an answer. 

Zoro never had free time. Even his weekends weren’t free. They were just quieter stretches of time where work hovered close enough to be reached.

Friends… You had to maintain those… You had to be present, available, interested. Somewhere along the way, Zoro had stopped being all three. Whatever friendships he might’ve once had had quietly slipped through the cracks without him noticing.

His dating life wasn’t any better.

When the need for companionship hit, he downloaded an app, found someone willing, burned the edge off the loneliness for a night, and moved on. However, it had been a while since even that had sounded appealing. It was, again, too much effort that Zoro didn't have the energy to spare.

Perona didn’t need to know any of that.

“None of your damn business,” Zoro finally snapped, choosing to sit back down and glare at his closed laptop. “Now can you get out of my face and annoy someone else?!”

Perona didn’t move.

She just watched him a little too perceptively for Zoro's liking. She pursed her lips like she already knew the answer he wouldn't give and was deciding how hard to push.

“You know,” she said slowly, “I’m not the only one who thinks you’re overdoing it. Dad said the same thing the other night.”

That did it.

A low growl rumbled up from Zoro’s chest before he could rein it in.

“Dad already gave me the work–life balance lecture,” Zoro said through clenched teeth, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t need it from you too.”

“Yes, you do!” Perona fired back, her leg still bouncing, the table rattled with each movement. She leaned forward, meeting his anger with her own stubborn determination. “I can’t even go into the kitchen to get a damn drink without you biting my head off!”

“If you weren’t so loud, I wouldn’t have to snap,” Zoro shot back. “And can you stop moving your foot? You’re shaking the whole table!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Perona said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “Would you rather I move it up your ass?”

“Try it and I’ll-”

“WHAT is all the yelling about?!” 

Zoro and Perona both straightened immediately, their argument cut off mid-breath by the sharp voice that carried across the room.

Mihawk stood at the edge of the room where the hallway opened into the dining area, his expression sharp despite the obvious fatigue etched into his features. His dark hair, usually slicked back with meticulous care, stuck up in the back like he’d just dragged his head off his pillow. Even in pajama pants and a crimson silk robe, his piercing gold eyes always managed to make him look imposing.

Zoro recovered first, words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Perona won’t let me work.”

The accusation sounded weak the moment it left his mouth, almost like he was a kid again and was lamely trying to cast the sole blame on Perona.

Mihawk blinked, clearly taken aback, before his gaze shifted to the closed laptop on the table. His brow furrowed.

“Why are you working?” Mihawk asked. “You’re off the clock.”

“Ha!” Perona jabbed a finger in Zoro's chest as if Mihawk's comment validated her earlier point. 

Mihawk lifted a palm up in a silent command. 

Perona huffed but fell quiet under the warning glare he sent her way.

Mihawk's attention returned fully to Zoro.

“What could possibly be so pressing,” Mihawk asked evenly, “that you are still working from home at 11 o'clock on a Thursday night?”

Zoro’s gaze dropped.

He didn’t want to admit he’d put it off until it spilled into his personal time. That he’d stared at a blank screen for ages instead of finishing something that should’ve been easy for him. It made him feel like a failure.

“It’s the risk report,” Zoro said finally. “For the potential client you’re meeting on Monday.”

He looked up in time to see further confusion flicker across Mihawk’s face.

“The one with the circus-themed hotel.” Zoro added.

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. 

Watching his father look frustrated (even briefly) made Zoro's stomach twist painfully, because he knew he was the cause.

“Skip it,” Mihawk said at last, his voice weary. “I spoke with the client earlier today. I will not be doing business with that aggravating clown.” Mihawk lowered his hand and fixed both of them with a flat look. “I already have to deal with two in my own home.”

Perona bristled, and let out an offended scoff.

Zoro didn’t even bother thinking of a retort. His lips formed a hard line, guilt building in his chest.

“I didn’t mean to leave it to the last minute.” The admission tasted sour on Zoro's tongue. He forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

Mihawk's eyes softened.

“I’m not disappointed that you’re behind on a report.” Mihawk paused and simply studied him, all signs of irritation fading. “I know how much responsibility you shoulder. I know how busy you get.”

The knot in Zoro’s stomach loosened ever so slightly… Only for Mihawk to continue.

“I’m disappointed that you’re still refusing to make time for yourself.”

Zoro flinched like he had been struck. He had braced himself for criticism about discipline or professionalism or letting standards slip. This fatherly concern was worse than any of that.

“I’m fine,” Zoro said automatically, but Mihawk’s gaze didn’t waver. “Really, it was just one lousy report at home.”

“You are exhausted,” Mihawk replied, matter-of-fact as he sauntered over to the table. “And I know for a fact that this isn't the first time you brought work home with you. You are mistaking endurance for balance, and if you keep this up, you're going to burn yourself out.”

Zoro looked away again, fingers curling at his sides. He didn't want to admit that he was already feeling burnt out.

“I was just telling him that he needs more social interaction.” Perona cut in. 

Zoro cast a glare in her direction, but she paid no mind to it.

“I agree.” Mihawk stopped between the two. “Why don't you call up any of your friends?”

Great. Now both of them were circling the same sore spot.

“I lost touch with Johnny and Yosaku years ago,” Zoro finally admitted. “They were the only friends I had.”

The room went quiet.

Mihawk shifted, his gaze breaking away from Zoro’s. The subtle discomfort in the movement only added to Zoro's unease.

He wasn’t sure which felt worse: the inevitable lecture he’d been bracing for, or the unspoken pity hanging in the air. It wasn’t like Mihawk had any room to judge. His father kept people at arm’s length just as effectively as Zoro did.

Maybe that was the problem.

“I could always set you up with one of my friends,” Perona offered brightly.

Zoro grimaced.

“Hard pass.” 

Perona’s glare snapped back into place.

“Don’t be rude.” she said tersely. “You don’t even know which friend I was going to suggest.”

“I don’t need to know.” Zoro crossed his arms, shoulders squaring defensively. “I don’t want to be set up with anyone.”

“I think a setup might be good for you,” Mihawk said in a maddeningly calm tone. “It is considerably easier than attempting to meet someone on your own.”

“I'm not spending my free time with strangers.” Zoro said bluntly.

Mihawk hummed thoughtfully.

His gaze drifted slowly before settling on the closed laptop resting on the table. The familiar flicker of calculation danced in his gaze before they sparked. A decision of some sort had been made.

Before Zoro could react, Mihawk reached out, picked up the laptop, and turned toward the hallway.

“Hey! I need-”

“You need to take personal time off,” Mihawk said without breaking stride. “You have an excess of unused vacation days. You will be using one tomorrow, whether you agree or not.”

Zoro lunged forward, irritation spiking. “That’s not-”

He reached for the laptop. Mihawk lifted it out of reach with infuriating ease.

Mihawk paused at the mouth of the hallway and turned back, fixing Zoro with a look that brooked no argument.

“You do not have to spend your free time with strangers,” he said evenly. “That decision is yours. But you will take time off.” He raised the laptop slightly. “Until then, this remains in my possession.”

“You can’t just confiscate my laptop to parent me,” Zoro snapped. “That’s work.”

“I most certainly can,” Mihawk replied coolly. “It is Kuraigana property. My property.”

He adjusted his grip, ensuring it remained well out of Zoro’s reach.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going back to bed. Good night.” His gaze flicked pointedly between Zoro and Perona. “And keep your arguments at a lower volume.”

With that, Mihawk disappeared down the hallway, leaving Zoro feeling more aggravated than he was before.

Zoro stood there, jaw clenched, hot anger simmering under his skin. After a beat, he turned back toward the table.

Perona was still sitting there, legs dangling casually, attention fully absorbed by her phone. Her thumbs moved rapidly across the screen, a smile stretching across her face that Zoro did not trust in the slightest.

“What are you doing?” he asked warily.

“Texting the guy I’m setting you up with.”

Zoro felt his irritation flare back to life. His entire body was practically shaking from it.

“I told you I'm not doing that!” 

Perona's phone vibrated in her hands. Her grin widened.

“Oh, good! He’s interested.”

“Are you deaf?” Zoro snapped. “I said I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on,” Perona said, still not looking up, already typing again. “You don’t have to like him. You just have to show up. That’ll get Dad off your back for a while, since you technically tried being social.”

Zoro dragged a hand through his hair to calm himself. It helped but did little to ease the tension in his shoulders.

He hated that she wasn’t wrong.

If he went, just once, he could say he’d tried. He could tell Mihawk it didn’t work, that socializing wasn’t for him, that he’d fulfilled the obligation and was done.

A clean excuse. A temporary ceasefire.

“Tch… Fine,” Zoro muttered at last, he pulled out his phone and thumbed through to his contacts. “Give me the guy’s stupid phone number.”

Perona finally looked up from her phone.

She studied him for a moment, lips pursed, eyes narrowing as if she were considering something deeply important. 

Zoro didn’t like that look…

A slow, smug smirk curved across her face.

“No.”

Zoro’s eye twitched.

“How the hell am I supposed to make plans if I don’t have a way to contact the guy?”

“That’s exactly the point,” Perona said lightly. “I know you. If you have his number, you’d probably scare him off with your moodiness or would find an excuse not to meet him.” Her voice brightened, enthusiasm bubbling over in a way that set every alarm in Zoro’s head ringing. “So congratulations! It’s officially a blind date.”

Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but Perona plowed ahead.

“I’ll make arrangements for you two to meet at the Baroque Lounge tomorrow night.”

“The Baroque Lounge?” Zoro repeated in disbelief.

He knew it too well. The restaurant sat buried inside the casino owned by Crocodile, Mihawk’s oldest business partner and one of the few people who could match him in both stubbornness and influence. The casino itself was a sensory assault… flashing lights, ringing slots, voices layered over one another until it all blurred together… Zoro avoided it whenever he could.

The Baroque Lounge was the opposite. It was quiet. Dim. Every surface polished to gleam, the atmosphere soaked in the kind of money that didn’t need to announce itself. Zoro had worked directly with Crocodile to secure a deal per Mihawk's request. Kuraigana Wine had always been a coveted brand, but the exclusive blend they’d negotiated for the lounge turned it into a status symbol.

As a result, the restaurant never had openings.

“That place is booked out for months,” Zoro said, dropping back into the dining chair and leaning away from the table. “And it’s way too fancy for a blind date.”

“That’s exactly why I’m choosing it,” Perona said sweetly, mischief curling back into her smile. “If it’s fancy, you’ll feel obligated to stay through the whole date.”

Zoro groaned internally.

“And,” she continued in a singsong voice, “I’ll just tell them you’re Mihawk’s son. They’ll open a reservation without any trouble.”

Zoro's eyes narrowed. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done that before?”

Perona didn’t bother answering.

She just hummed to herself, already satisfied, and hopped off the table as if the conversation were settled.

“Just show up and be nice,” she said over her shoulder. “Maybe practice not looking like human interaction physically pains you.”

“Damn witch…” Zoro cursed under his breath.

Her bony elbow slammed into his shoulder in retaliation.

“For that,” she said brightly, “you’re paying for dinner tomorrow.”

“What? Why?!” Zoro snapped. “That place is expensive.”

“Consider it penance for being a jerk,” Perona replied, unfazed. “And don’t pretend you can’t afford it.”

Zoro opened his mouth, searching for a comeback, but he was so exhausted that nothing came to mind.

Perona’s smile widened smugly, her chest puffing out as she claimed the unspoken victory.

“Well, I’m off to bed,” she said, already turning away. “I’ll send you all the details in the morning. Good night!”

Zoro let his head drop forward until it thumped against the cool wood of the table. He was already dreading tomorrow night.

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