#xai

bonus

You squint up at him then look back down onto your torso just to see bruises riddling your body. “Zoro”

He hums in response.

“Eat shit”

He breathed out a shaky laugh and hit you on the head. Which had you grabbing your head since this man has no shame with bullying the defenseless (you he has no problem bullying you) “Cmon lets get back to the ship” he says while pulling you up.

You scoff, trying to push yourself up away from him, but the moment you do, your knees decide to betray you. You stumble forward… straight into his chest.

Zoro catches you without missing a beat, one arm looping around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Tch. You’re worse off than you said.

You glare up at him, still pressed against his chest. “I said eat shit, not catch me.”

He huffs out a laugh low and a little tired. “You’re welcome.” You push at his chest, but his arm doesn’t move. He’s solid as ever, annoyingly steady while you’re still trying to remember which way is up. The smell of metal and sweat clings to him, familiar in a way you wish it wasn’t.

“Zoro, let go,” you mumble, trying to sound firm.

“Not unless you can stand on your own,” he says, not even looking at you. His gaze is fixed somewhere over your shoulder, scanning the wrecked battlefield. You can tell he’s still keyed up from the fight, shoulders tense, hand resting lightly on one of his swords.

“I can stand,” you insist.

“Sure you can,” he mutters, shifting his grip so he’s practically carrying you now.

You sigh, feeling the heat rise to your face. “You arrogant bastard.”

“And you’re still stubborn,” he shoots back. “Some things never change.”

That one hits a little too close. The air between you goes quiet, the sound of the distant sea filling the space that words used to. You glance up at him. He’s still got that same stupid serious face the one that used to drive you insane when you were together. You can’t tell if he’s avoiding your eyes or just focused on getting you back.

“You don’t have to play hero, y’know,” you murmur finally.

He snorts. “You think this is about being a hero?” He shifts you in his arms a little higher, ignoring your protest. “I just don’t feel like listening to Chopper yell at me for letting you bleed out somewhere.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Sure. It’s all for Chopper.”

“Damn right.”

He starts walking, boots crunching over debris. It’s only then that you realize he’s still got his arm wrapped tight around you. you let yourself lean into him because the ground’s uneven, you tell yourself. Because you’re tired.

In retrospect, the way Zoro has cared for you since the very beginning has always been a breath of fresh air. You and the green haired man had dated many years ago. Some wouldn’t even call it dating just two stubborn kids with too much ambition and not enough sense. It wasn’t a messy breakup. Not even close. But dreams come with a price, and who’s to say that two of the most hardheaded people alive would ever let themselves slow down long enough to fall in love properly? You wanted to find a meaning within the world, and he wanted to become the greatest swordsman it had to offer.

The traveling, the fighting, the endless pursuit of something bigger than yourselves it all left no room for “us.” So, you parted ways quietly. No promises. No tears. Just an understanding that maybe, someday, you’d meet again when life wasn’t pulling so hard in opposite directions and now, years later, here you were a few months into sailing together again after not seeing each other for what felt like a lifetime.

At first, it was awkward. You both pretended not to notice the way you still moved in sync, how you’d pass each other's tools without asking, how you’d both reach for the same side of a map, how you’d argue and then fall into easy banter just like before. He still remembered how you liked your tea too sweet and you still caught him napping in impossible places. You still patched him up after battles, muttering under your breath while he smirked through the pain. He still called you “idiot” when you pushed yourself too far. Sometimes, when you’d both been drinking under the stars with the rest of the crew asleep, he’d glance over and say something like, “You haven’t changed much.” And you’d answer, “Neither have you. Still getting lost?”

He’d laugh, still managed to make your chest ache. Neither of you ever said it out loud, you had both been too young to make it work back then but the way he still steadied you after a battle, the way you still instinctively trusted him with your back it all felt like picking up a conversation you’d never truly finished. By the time the Sunny comes into view on the horizon, the rush of adrenaline has long since faded, leaving behind only the dull ache of exhaustion and the occasional sharp twinge whenever you move the wrong way. Zoro’s arm stays wrapped around you for the entire trek back, no matter how many times you mumble that you can walk on your own.

“Stop squirming,” he mutters when you shift again, his grip steady as steel. “You’ll fall.”

It’s almost unfair how unchanged he is, the same calm expression, the same effortless strength, the same quiet presence that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

When you finally step onto the deck, the crew is already gathered. Luffy’s grin is instant and wide.

“You’re back! I thought you two died or something!”

“Thanks for the faith, Captain,” you say dryly, trying to pull away from Zoro’s arm. It stays in place a heartbeat longer than necessary before he finally lets go.

The second your boots touch the deck, Chopper’s gasp cuts through the air. “(Y/N)! You’re hurt!”

The little reindeer scrambles up your arm in a flurry of hooves and concern, inspecting every scrape and bruise. “You shouldn’t even be walking! Zoro, what were you thinking letting her ”

“I carried her, didn’t I?” Zoro grumbles, setting you down a little too gently for someone pretending not to care.

Chopper blinks, momentarily thrown. “Oh.”

You chuckle, the sound turning into a wince as pain ripples through your ribs. “Relax, Doc. I’ve had worse.”

“Still, you just joined the crew! We can’t have you getting seriously hurt right off the bat!”

“Did I not say relax? I just need some ice and a little rest.”

“Oi, dumbass, don’t be a dumbass accept the help,” Zoro scolds, giving you a light smack to the head.

Chopper nearly faints in horror. “ZORO! You can’t just hit an injured patient!”

“MOSSHEAD, STOP THAT RIGHT NOW! HAS NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU NOT TO HIT A LADY?!” Sanji’s voice rings out as he sprints over, cigarette forgotten in the corner of his mouth.

Before anyone can react, you turn toward Zoro, still clutching your aching side, and grab his cheeks in one hand. “Yeah, Mosshead,” you tease, squishing his face. “Why aren’t you treating a lady delicately?”

Zoro exhales through his nose, a low huff that borders on a laugh. His eyes flick down to meet yours steady, unreadable then drift lower to your injured torso. Even with your hand pressing against his cheeks, you can feel the tension in him shift, the faintest trace of concern softening the sharp lines of his expression.

Sanji and Chopper glance at each other, both a little thrown by the interaction that just unfolded. “Hey, princess,” Sanji mutters, awkwardly clearing his throat as he adjusts his tie. “Let’s get you checked up, yeah?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound still raspy from exhaustion. “Sure thing, Prince Charming.”

You reach out and take his offered hand, and he immediately brightens up just a bit too much.

“Oi oi, gently now!” Chopper scolds, trotting alongside as Sanji guides you toward his infirmary. “She needs rest, calm down!”

“I would never endanger a lady, especially one injured in battle,” Sanji insists dramatically, lowering his head as if making a sacred vow. “Unlike a certain moss headed brute who solves everything with violence.”

“I heard that!” Zoro’s voice echoes from the deck behind you.

“You were meant to!” Sanji shoots back without missing a step.

You roll your eyes, suppressing a grin. “Do they ever stop?” you mumble to Chopper. Then you both giggle on your way to the office.

As your laughter fades down the hallway with Sanji and Chopper in tow, the deck falls quiet again. Zoro exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. The air feels heavier now that the noise is gone. He glances toward where you disappeared below deck, jaw tightening slightly.

“Tch.” He scowls at nothing in particular, but his eyes linger on the faint smudges of blood on the railing where you’d leaned earlier. He knows better than to blame anyone else. You’d been fighting hard, same as him, maybe harder, considering the hits you took to keep the rest of the crew safe. Still, he can’t shake the image of you stumbling when your leg gave out, the quick flash of pain you’d tried to hide behind a smirk. Zoro moves to the edge of the Sunny, resting his forearms on the rail. The sea stretches endlessly before him, calm and glittering under the sun, a sharp contrast to the chaos still buzzing in his chest.

“New crewmate, huh?” he mutters under his breath. “Already giving me a damn headache.”

He lets his eyes close for a moment, listening to the waves slap against the hull. The sound usually clears his mind today, it doesn’t. Instead, he keeps seeing flashes of the fight: the way you stood your ground even when outnumbered, the way your breathing hitched when you thought no one noticed. He did notice. He always does. Sanji’s words from earlier echo faintly: “Unlike a certain moss headed brute who solves everything with violence.” Zoro snorts. “Better a brute than a lovesick waiter,” he mutters. But the insult feels hollow, his tone more tired than irritated.

He shifts his swords at his side, the weight familiar and grounding. Still, that dull ache of worry refuses to fade. It’s not like him to dwell on this kind of thing: injuries happen, people heal, life goes on. That’s how it’s always been. And yet… He can still feel the ghost of your hand on his face, the way your fingers had squished his cheeks, how your eyes had sparkled with mischief even through the pain. He huffs out something that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so soft.

“Idiot,” he murmurs, though it’s unclear who he means you or himself.

Zoro straightens, stretching his neck until it pops. He takes one last glance toward the infirmary door before turning away. “She’ll be fine,” he tells himself quietly. “She’s tougher than she looks.” Still, his steps take him toward the mast instead of the training area. He sits down cross legged in the shade, swords resting against his shoulder. Eyes closed, breathing steady like he’s about to nap. But even as the crew resumes their noise around him, his mind drifts again back to you, and that stupid grin you gave him when you said you were fine. He tells himself he’s just keeping an ear out in case Chopper needs help.

He can still see it, as if the village square were frozen in his mind: the clang of practice swords from the dojo, the chatter of market stalls, the distant smell of salt and smoke from the harbor. There you were, perched on that low stone wall outside the training yard, legs swinging lazily, watching him argue with some punk from another dojo. “You’re all talk, Roronoa. You think you’re hot shit just ’cause you swing three swords like a circus act,” the boy sneered.

Zoro had felt the spark then that heat that always came before a fight.

“Say that again,” he growled.

The other boy smirked. “You heard me ”

Zoro’s hand had already found his katana.

And there you were, sliding off the wall, calling his name. “Zoro!”

He hadn’t looked back. “Stay out of it, (Y/N).”

You folded your arms, shaking your head like you were already done with his nonsense. “You’re gonna get banned from the dojo again if you start another fight in the street.”

“He started it,” he said.

“Someone always starts it,” you countered.

Then the insult that made his blood boil. “What, you're gonna cry to your little girlfriend to protect you?”

And in that instant, everything narrowed his fury, his pride, his instinct to protect. The boy was flat on his back before he even realized what hit him. Your hand on his arm stopped him before he could go further. “That’s enough! He’s down, Zoro!”

He remembered the tension in his muscles, the unwillingness to relent, the way your grip forced him to. And even then, he remembered the helpless flutter in his chest the way you’d always managed to pull him back from the edge without ever really asking him to.

You’d sighed, “You really can’t go a single day without embarrassing me, can you?”

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass anyone,” he’d said, but even then, the words rang hollow.

“Oh, really? It looked like it from where I was standing.”

You’d added, quietly, almost to yourself: “I don’t even like standing up in these situations. Makes me look like some lame protagonist, and like one of those pathetic girls that think ‘I can change him’ I like the way that you are an idiot but stop being so hot headed .”

Even then, he’d felt that pull that ache in seeing you brave yet unwilling to step fully into the story you deserved. “He shouldn’t have said that stuff about you,” he muttered, his voice softer than usual.

“About me?”

“Yeah. Calling you my girlfriend like that. Stupid.”

You’d tilted your head. “Why’s that stupid?”

“Because, because you’re not. And even if you were, he doesn’t get to ugh, forget it.”

He remembered the flush creeping up his neck, the words stuck in his throat, and the little smirk you couldn’t hide even in frustration. “So… you would’ve fought him if I was your girlfriend?”

“What?! No I mean yeah, I just shut up, idiot,” he’d stammered.

You’d laughed, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, watching him like you could see everything he refused to say.

“You know,” you’d murmured, softer than anyone else ever heard, “for an idiot like yourself, you’re doing a really good job.”

“…Shut up,” he’d muttered.

“Didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Did not.”

Years later, Zoro can feel that memory like a ghost. Now, they sail together on the same crew, fight side by side, and laugh like they always have but the truth lingers, heavier than any battle scar: they never really got the chance to love each other. Not fully. Not openly. The thought presses on him like the weight of his swords, the warmth of your presence, and the ache of what they never let themselves have. Zoro leans against the mast, eyes shut, trying to let the steady rhythm of the waves drown out the lingering thoughts swirling in his head. For a while, it almost works until he hears it. A whisper. “ I’m telling you, Robin, did you see his face? He’s so obvious it’s painful!”

Zoro’s brow twitches. He hasn't moved yet, but he’s listening now. Robin’s voice follows, calm and amused. “Mmm. I thought it was rather endearing. Our swordsman has a soft spot.”

That gets his attention. His eyes crack open. Sure enough, a few feet away, Nami and Robin are leaning against the railing, pretending to be engrossed in the ocean. He glares. “Oi. I can hear you.”

Instant silence. Then, slowly too slowly Nami turns her head toward him, her expression morphing into that signature devilish grin that spells trouble for his peace of mind. “Oh, can you?” she says sweetly, and before Robin can react, Nami grabs her friend’s cheeks with one hand, squishing them together dramatically. “‘Why aren’t you treating a lady delicately, hmm?’” Nami croons in a perfect imitation of your voice, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

Robin blinks, swatting lightly at her hands. “Nami…” she says between laughs, “please refrain from using me as a prop.”

Zoro groans. “For the love of you’ve got nothing better to do?”

“Oh, this is better,” Nami says, finally releasing Robin and turning her full attention to him. She leans forward on the railing, eyes glinting with mischief. “I mean, it’s not every day our stoic swordsman gets all soft over a new crewmate. Practically carried her like a bride!”

Zoro’s jaw tightens. “She was injured.”

Nami gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh no, of course! How could I mistake your purely practical concern for something as scandalous as feelings?”

Robin chuckles quietly beside her. “You do like to tease, Nami.”

“Someone has to,” Nami says, lowering her voice and resting her chin in her palm. Then she pitches her tone deeper, mocking him with a perfect Zoro impression: “Ugh, my poor disgusting man feelings keep me from admitting my love and admiration for you…” Zoro stares at Nami like he’s calculating how many ways he could throw her overboard without Luffy noticing. “You done?” he grumbles.

Nami pretends to think about it. “Hmm… nah, not yet. But don’t worry, I’ll stop when you finally confess.”

“Confess to what?”

She grins wider. “Exactly.”

Zoro lets out a long suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re lucky I don’t hit women.”

“Please,” Nami scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Tell that to the way you treat Y/n.”

Robin smiles serenely. “Don’t worry, Zoro. We’re only teasing. Though I must say,” she adds, eyes glinting with amusement, “you did look rather protective earlier. It was… sweet.”

He shoots her a look that would’ve made lesser men crumble. “You too, Robin?”

“Merely an observation,” she replies smoothly, turning back to her book.

Nami hums, smirking. “See? Even Robin agrees. You’ve gone soft, zoro.” then bursts out laughing, the sound bright and genuine enough that even Robin hides a smile behind her book. He doesn’t rise to it. Doesn’t even twitch. Just crosses his arms, pretending to drift into a nap though the faint pink creeping up his ears betrays him more than he’ll like to admit.

From somewhere below deck, Luffy’s voice carries through the air: “Dinner’s ready!”

The two women leave, their laughter fading toward the galley. Zoro exhales through his nose, muttering to himself. “These people..”

The dining table on the Sunny was crowded, smells of meat and fresh bread filling the air. Luffy was enthusiastically shoveling food into his mouth, but the rest of the crew seemed unusually quiet, stealing glances at you and Zoro without saying anything. Robin leaned back in her chair, eyebrows slightly raised. Nami shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Usopp, who was staring at his plate with wide eyes. Chopper hovered near your chair, fidgeting nervously.

Zoro sat across from you, chopsticks in hand, barely looking at his food. You, of course, were meticulously cutting your meat into bite sized pieces, keeping an eye on him.

“Eat your food, Zoro,” you said, nudging his plate with your chopsticks.

“Hn.”

You sighed, leaning across the table to poke at his plate again. “I said eat your food.”

He muttered, voice low but sharp, “You’re barely eating.”

“I’m fine,” you replied without meeting his eyes.

He frowned, leaning slightly forward. “You’re not. That’s barely anything on your plate.”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped a little too quickly, trying to sound firm.

“No,” he said flatly, reaching for the edge of your plate and moving it slightly so he could slide a piece toward you. “Eat this. You need it.”

You froze. “…Don’t.”

“I’m not asking,” he said, still moving the food closer.

You pushed your plate back. “I don’t need your help.”

Zoro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…You know, you used to let me do this all the time when we were younger.”

You blinked, eyebrows raised. “…I was younger.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “I’m trying to make sure you didn’t starve.”

You snorted softly. “Some things never change, huh?”

He glanced at you, eyes sharp but with that quiet intensity that made your stomach twist. “…I’m serious. You eat like a bird sometimes. It’s annoying.”

“And you hover like a parent sometimes. It’s just as annoying,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light.

Zoro leaned back a little, crossing his arms. “…Tch. Just stop being a little shit.”

You grinned faintly. “Zoro, we have already established you are a dumbass, stop being stupid.”

There was a brief silence as you both turned to your food again. From the other side of the table, the crew’s stares were nearly palpable. Robin sipped her tea, pretending to be engrossed in her book. Nami leaned slightly away from Usopp, muttering, “They’re really… something else.” Luffy chewed with his mouth open, oblivious. Chopper’s tiny hands were clasped together nervously, eyes darting between the two of you.

“…You’re ridiculous,” Zoro finally muttered under his breath, sliding a piece of meat onto your plate.

“…And you’re insufferable,” you countered, picking up your chopsticks again.

He huffed softly, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy. “…I just don’t want you skipping meals.”

“…I’m not skipping meals,” you said, though your voice softened slightly.

“…You are if you keep eating like that,” he muttered, eyes still on you.

You leaned back, pretending to be nonchalant, but there was a quiet smile tugging at your lips. “…Fine. I’ll eat.”

Zoro’s jaw twitched ever so slightly, like he wasn’t going to comment, but you caught that faint twitch of relief in his posture.

The crew sat in awkward silence, all eyes darting between the two of you, clearly unsure how to react to whatever the hell was going on in front of them . The last bites had been swallowed, and now it was time for the inevitable cleanup. You started gathering plates, trying to ignore Zoro’s eyes on you, which made you feel… oddly self conscious.

Sanji appeared out of nowhere, a bright grin on his face. “Allow me! Let me help you two with the dishes!”

“Don’t touch them,” Zoro said immediately, his voice low and dangerous as he stood and moved toward the sink. Sanji blinked, taken aback.

“I what?!” Sanji sputtered. “I’m just trying to help ”

“You’re not helping,” Zoro interrupted, tone final. “…Shove off.”

Sanji flinched but reluctantly backed away, muttering something about “rude swordsmen” and “thankless idiots.”

You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “…he was just trying to help,” you said, grabbing a plate and holding it up to wash.

“You don't need his help,” Zoro said, already washing his own plate with a deliberate calm. “…I don’t need anyone else messing this up.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter. “I thought i told you to stop being so hot headed”

“Shut up and finish cleaning,” he said flatly, though his tone gave away nothing.

From the corner of the galley, Nami and Usopp were perched on a crate with a small bowl of popcorn between them. They exchanged wide eyed glances.Usopp’s eyes were practically sparkling. “…This is way better than the last soap opera I watched. Way better.” Usopp whispered to Nami, practically bouncing in his seat: “…Did you hear that? They totally care about each other!”

Nami rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “…I feel like they've done it.”