Zoro hung from the post, feeling the aftershocks of what had just happened. He tried to name it. Spiritual force? The word tasted strange in a world of ships and gunpowder.
At first glance, this body showed no sign of cultivation—an early-level frame at best. So how had that invisible wave ripped through the yard? Had it been the merging of two wills? Or was this world hiding its own version of qi? Could he, He Fang, cultivate a soul and body that belonged to another realm?
Too many questions, too few answers. He was still thinking when the straw-hat boy walked over, whistling like nothing had happened.
"You still here?" the boy said, peering up. "Looks like we caused a bit of a fuss. They'll be here soon."
"Join my crew!" he added without waiting for an answer. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy — I'm gonna be the Pirate King! If you join, I'll untie you. Come on, you're gonna be in my crew!" He laughed with the wild confidence of someone who had never learned to doubt himself.
Zoro blinked at the outburst and, despite himself, allowed a small, dry laugh. The boy was childish, all grin and bright nonsense—annoying and oddly sincere.
"You decided, huh?" Zoro said when Luffy calmed. He pushed his voice through the rope-rubbed throat. "Fine. I'll join your crew. But understand this: my dream is to become the strongest swordsman in the world. Nothing will stand in the way of that."
Luffy's smile widened until it split his face. "My dream's to be the Pirate King! Hahaha! We'll need strong people like you!"
"Where're your swords?" Luffy asked.
"My swords were taken by that idiot—Helmepo," Zoro growled. "He'll know where they are." As if on cue, Luffy reached for the ropes and untied him with a delighted whoop.
Luffy gave Helmepo a savage shake. "HEY! WAKE UP—what'd you do to this guy?" He screamed into the unconscious face.
The boy woke with a snort; Helmepo staggered to his feet and then crumpled again, out cold. Luffy blinked. "Huh. He's still out."
Footsteps hammered in the distance. The yard had been surrounded. Captain Morgan stormed into view, fury like a red wave.
"You filthy scum! How dare you defy me and disgrace my son!" he roared. "I'll bury you here!"
"Fire!" someone barked.
Gunshots cracked. Men pushed forward, muskets raised. Luffy didn't flinch. He leapt in front of the oncoming bullets like a scenery prop thrown between storm and ruin.
Zoro's eyes widened as the bullets struck Luffy… and simply bounced off. The straw-hatter grinned as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
"What are you?!" someone screamed. "What is that—"
"Bullets can't hurt me! HAHAHA! I'm rubber!" Luffy bellowed, chest puffing. "I ate the Gum-Gum Devil Fruit! I'm made of rubber!"
Devil Fruit? The term was alien, but the concept fit the pattern he was beginning to see: strange powers, like condensed fate. In He Fang's world there were treasures and cultivators; here the sea hid its own miracles. Zoro felt a familiar thrill of curiosity. He'd have to learn this world's rules if he wanted to grow in it.
"That boy… he's not human," Captain Morgan muttered. "Some treasure from the sea—he ate it. No ordinary man could do that."
Luffy punched forward with absurd, stretching arms. "Gum-Gum Pistol!" He clattered a marine across the face and sent him flying.
Zoro reached down and snatched a dropped blade—one of Helmepo's men's swords—and flicked his wrist with a practiced economy of motion. This will do for now, he thought, eyes cold for the first time since waking. He hadn't recovered his three blades yet, but weapon or no, his skill was his own.
"Bullies," Zoro said softly, a predator's smile curving at the corner of his mouth. "I hate bullies."
He moved through the marines like a shadow with an edge. The blunt side of the sword smashed limbs, the hilt cracked helmets, his experience with killing arts turning motion into efficiency. Luffy danced and stretched, knocking men aside with elastic force; together they were a storm unleashed.
At the yard's center, Captain Morgan raised his enormous axe-handed fist and swung. Zoro stepped forward and blocked without a hint of hesitation. The clash was short — precise timing, a single clean strike delivered with the weight of a lifetime's practice. He had not called on spiritual force; there had been no cultivation cultivated here yet. This was mere mortal technique—refined, ruthless, perfect.
Morgan hit the ground hard. The captain's bulk lay still; he did not stir.
Silence fell like a held breath.
Zoro stood amid the strewn bodies, chest heaving, blood and dust on his hands. He had answered the world with steel and will. But the questions in his head had not lessened. Devil fruits, rubber men, the hidden currents of power—this world had its own laws. Ways of power that might, if he learned them, let him keep his promise to Kuina and surpass even what He Fang had dreamed.
Heathing the stolen blade for the moment, Zoro looked to Luffy, whose grin was as wide and reckless as ever.
"So," Luffy said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you joining or what?"
Zoro's mouth curved. "I already told you. But first—those swords."
Luffy laughed. "We'll find them! Let's go! Adventure!"
They walked out of the yard, two destinies stitched together by more than chance. One was hungry for the title of Pirate King. The other, reborn from the Nine Planes, hungrier still—for swords, for mastery, for a path that might span worlds.
And somewhere deep in Zoro's chest, an ember glowed: he would learn this world's rules, bend them where needed, and carve a way to the top.