The midday sun beat down on the ruined coastline, baking the white sand and creating shimmering waves of heat in the salty air. Zoro's first thought, as he blinked through sweat and the pounding ache in his head, was that somewhere, Luffy was probably to blame for this.
He groaned and sat up. Shredded planks from the Thousand Sunny's mast jutted out from a tangle of palm trees a hundred steps away. Seabirds cackled overhead in the wind. Zoro's mouth was dry, his shirt clung to him, and there were no familiar voices, only the soft lapping of waves on a shore he'd never seen.
He quickly checked his surroundings: his three swords lay beside him, miraculously intact. However, the bandana he wore for serious fights was missing. His boots were soggy, but he was unhurt—and given the soreness in his shoulder, he had likely landed in one of his more spectacular, unintentional acrobatics during the wreck.
Flashes of memory came back: a raging storm, Luffy shouting about a "mystery whirlpool," Nami yelling at everyone to "hold onto something that isn't Zoro's swords," then—darkness.
Now, he was alone.
Zoro's trained instincts kicked in. First: secure his gear. Second: check for injuries. Third: find fresh water—or, if that failed, the nearest tree with anything edible.
A sound rustled in the trees. Zoro stiffened, his hand moving to Wado Ichimonji. The leaves parted, and a small animal—a bright red monkey with a half-eaten coconut—fell from a branch with a startled squawk and dashed away into the brush.
Zoro snorted at himself and stood up, sliding his swords into his sash. The island was unfamiliar, but the terrain had a wildness that stirred his senses: rugged cliffs, a distant forest, and the faint smell of woodsmoke in the breeze. Where there was fire, there were people—or trouble.
He chose a direction and started walking, sand sticking to his boots. The sun beat down unyieldingly, but Zoro's thoughts stayed sharp as he searched for signs of what had happened to his crewmates. Focused as he was, he almost missed the telltale glint of gold in a nearby tide pool.
He stepped closer and squinted. There, shining beneath three inches of swirling water, was a single gold coin. Beside it was a fluttering scrap of what looked like Nami's map. A set of small, frantic footprints led away up the beach.
A wry smile threatened to form at the corner of his mouth. If Nami were here, things would only get more complicated—especially if she'd already started gathering loot.
He pressed on through the palm-shaded path, following the tracks, every sense on alert. The deeper he ventured into the island, the more the air filled with unfamiliar birdcalls. Was that laughter echoing faintly from over the next hill?
This was no ordinary place.
As Zoro reached the top of the rise, he paused to scan the view. An ornate archway, painted in vibrant reds and blues, marked the entrance to a strange village, half-hidden by flowering vines and swaying lanterns. The sign—though partly obscured—read: "Welcome to Santoryu Island. Love, Blades, and Legend Await!"
Zoro blinked. Had the villagers painted "blades" and "love" on their welcome sign?
He sheathed his swords, took a steadying breath, and walked toward the unknown, hunger and anticipation coursing through him. Whatever this island had in store—a rescue, a fight, or something even stranger—he was ready. With each step, the grip of loneliness faded, replaced by the excitement of a new quest.
In the shadows, unseen eyes watched him. The island's legend was beginning—and, unbeknownst to Zoro, so were the complications of hearts and blades.
*To be continued in Chapter 2: The Map Thief Appears…*