**Marine Branch 153, Goa Kingdom – East Blue**
**Nine days after the Great Meat Rebellion**
The training grounds behind the barracks were quiet in the late afternoon.
Most recruits had already staggered back to the showers or the mess hall after the day's scheduled drills. The sun hung low and heavy, turning the packed dirt orange and stretching long shadows from the wooden practice posts.
Only two figures remained.
One sat cross-legged on the ground, back straight, eyes closed, breathing slow and even.
The other stood a respectful distance away, arms folded, watching with the patience of someone who knew waiting was sometimes the hardest part of training.
Roronoa Zoro hadn't spoken in almost forty minutes.
Luffy hadn't either.
The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was deliberate.
A week ago, during sparring drills, Zoro had finally asked the question that had been burning in him since the day he requested transfer to this backwater branch.
"Why three swords?"
Luffy had blinked at him, mid-stretch, rubber arm still extended like a question mark.
"Huh?"
"You carry three. Most people stop at one. Some idiots go for two. Why three?"
Luffy had grinned then, the same grin he used when someone asked why he liked meat so much.
"Because I made three promises."
And then he'd walked away to help Koby carry water buckets, leaving Zoro standing there with more questions than before.
Today, Zoro had decided he wasn't leaving the training ground until he got answers.
So he waited.
Eventually, when the orange light had turned almost copper, Luffy opened his eyes.
"You still here?"
"Obviously."
Luffy stretched both arms upward until his fingertips brushed the lowest branches of a nearby tree, then let them snap back with a soft *thwip*.
"Wanna spar?"
"No."
Luffy tilted his head. "Then why're you still here?"
"Because you said three promises." Zoro's voice was low, steady. "I want to know what they are."
Luffy looked at him for a long moment. Not the usual wide-eyed curiosity. Something quieter. Almost careful.
Then he patted the ground beside him.
Zoro hesitated—only for a second—before sitting down. Cross-legged. Swords still across his lap.
The wind moved the leaves above them in slow, lazy waves.
Luffy picked up a small pebble, rolled it between his fingers.
"When I was little," he started, "Grandpa used to take me to this hill outside Foosha. There was this big rock there. Looked like a skull if you squinted. We called it Skull Rock."
Zoro didn't interrupt.
"Every time we went, he'd sit me on top of it and tell me stories. Not the fun ones. The bad ones. About pirates who burned villages. Marines who got scared and ran. People who died because nobody was strong enough to stop the bad stuff."
Luffy tossed the pebble lightly, caught it again.
"One day he told me about this guy. A pirate captain. Real strong. Had a crew that followed him everywhere. But he wasn't the kind of pirate who just stole treasure. He was the kind who thought the world belonged to him. So he took what he wanted. Villages. People. Everything."
Zoro's jaw tightened, just slightly.
Luffy continued.
"Grandpa was there. Tried to stop him. But he wasn't strong enough yet. The captain laughed, said something about 'weak justice', and left. Left a whole town burning. And Grandpa… he just stood there. Couldn't do anything."
The pebble stopped moving in Luffy's hand.
"That's when I told him. I was maybe six? I said, 'When I grow up, I'm gonna be stronger than you. Strong enough that nobody ever has to just stand there and watch again.'"
Zoro exhaled slowly through his nose.
"That's one."
Luffy nodded.
"First promise. To Grandpa. That I'd be the strongest Marine. So strong that even he could be proud. So strong that when bad things happen, I can punch them away before anyone gets hurt."
He looked at Zoro then. Really looked.
"That's why I train like this. Why I don't care if I look stupid stretching my arms or eating too much or yelling about meat. Because the stronger I get, the fewer people have to feel that helpless feeling Grandpa felt that day."
Zoro stared at the ground between his knees.
For a long time he didn't speak.
Then, quietly:
"And the other two?"
Luffy smiled, but it was softer this time. Almost sad.
"Second one's to a friend. Kuina."
Zoro's entire body went still.
Luffy didn't seem surprised that the name hit like a blade.
"She was the best. Stronger than me. Way stronger. We fought every day. She always won. But she never laughed at me for losing. She'd just say 'next time' and help me up."
He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky.
"Then one day she died. Fell down the stairs. Just… gone. Like that."
Zoro's knuckles were white around the hilts of his swords.
Luffy kept talking, voice steady.
"Her dream was to be the world's greatest swordsman. She said the only reason she couldn't be was because she was a girl. I told her that was stupid. That strength doesn't care about boy or girl. She laughed. Said maybe I was right."
He paused.
"But she never got the chance to prove it."
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves louder.
"I made a promise that day. At her grave. I told her… 'I'll become the world's greatest swordsman. For both of us. So nobody ever has to say they can't do something just because of who they are.'"
Zoro's breathing had changed. Shallower. Tighter.
Luffy turned his head toward him.
"That's why you see me practicing with my fists like they're swords sometimes. Or stretching them out long like blades. I'm not trying to copy you. I'm trying to keep a promise to someone who can't keep it herself anymore."
Zoro closed his eyes.
The third promise hung between them like a held breath.
Luffy waited.
Eventually Zoro spoke, voice rougher than usual.
"And the third?"
Luffy looked back up at the sky.
"The third one's to me."
Zoro opened his eyes.
"I promised myself… that I'd never let anyone tell me what kind of man I have to be. Not Grandpa. Not the Navy. Not even the whole damn world."
He grinned then, small but fierce.
"I'm gonna be a Marine. But I'm gonna be *my* kind of Marine. The kind who laughs too loud. Eats too much. Protects his friends. And maybe makes the whole system a little less… heavy."
He shrugged.
"So that's why three. One for the people who need protecting. One for the people who never got their chance. And one for the idiot who's gotta carry all of it."
Silence again.
Longer this time.
Zoro finally moved. Slowly. He lifted one of his swords—Wado Ichimonji, the white one—and laid it flat across both palms.
"This one…" he said, almost too quiet to hear, "…was hers."
Luffy looked at the blade. Really looked.
The hilt was worn smooth in places. The guard had tiny scratches that spoke of years of use.
"She gave it to me the day before she died. Said 'take care of it until you can give it to someone stronger'."
Zoro's voice cracked—just once—then steadied.
"I've been carrying it ever since. Because I swore I'd become the greatest swordsman in the world. And when I do… I'll put it on her grave. So she'll know."
He looked at Luffy then.
Directly.
No walls.
No sarcasm.
Just two people who carried promises heavier than steel.
"You're insane," Zoro said.
Luffy laughed softly.
"I know."
"But…" Zoro's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "I think I can live with that kind of crazy."
Luffy's grin came back full force.
"Good! 'Cause you're stuck with me now."
Zoro snorted.
"Like I had a choice."
They sat like that for a while longer. Watching the sun sink lower. Listening to the distant sounds of the base winding down for the evening.
Eventually Zoro stood.
Stretched.
Picked up his swords.
"I'm going to train."
Luffy bounced to his feet.
"Me too!"
Zoro gave him a side-eye.
"You're going to stretch your arms at me again, aren't you?"
"Yup!"
"Fine. But if you wrap them around my neck one more time, I'm cutting them off."
"They'll just grow back!"
"That's the problem."
They walked toward the practice posts together. Side by side. Not quite shoulder to shoulder—Zoro's stride was longer—but close enough.
Behind them, the banyan tree rustled one last time in the dying light.
And somewhere in the quiet spaces between promises kept and promises still being carried, something shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not with fireworks or declarations.
Just a small, stubborn understanding.
That maybe—just maybe—two people carrying impossible weights didn't have to do it alone.
—
Later that night, in the dimly lit armory, Zoro sharpened Wado Ichimonji by lantern light.
The whetstone moved in slow, even strokes.
Each pass was a meditation. A reminder.
Across the room, Luffy sat on an overturned crate, legs swinging, eating an apple he'd definitely not been authorized to take from the kitchen.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
The sound of stone on steel and the quiet crunch of apple filled the space between them comfortably.
When Zoro finally set the whetstone aside, he spoke without looking up.
"You ever think about what happens when we get strong enough?"
Luffy tilted his head.
"Hmm?"
"When you're the strongest Marine. And I'm the strongest swordsman. What then?"
Luffy took another bite. Chewed thoughtfully.
"Then we find even bigger things to protect. And even bigger jerks to punch."
Zoro huffed a laugh. Short. Dry. But real.
"Figures."
He sheathed the sword.
Stood.
Walked past Luffy toward the door.
At the threshold he paused.
Without turning around:
"Thanks."
Luffy grinned around the apple core.
"For what?"
Zoro didn't answer.
He just kept walking.
But the door stayed open a little longer than necessary.
And Luffy—still sitting there in the lantern glow—understood.
Some promises didn't need words.
Some just needed someone else to carry part of the weight for a while.
Outside, the East Blue night was clear and salted.
Stars above.
Sea whispering somewhere beyond the walls.
And two boys—one rubber, one steel—who had just taken the first real step toward becoming something the world had never seen before.
Not just strong.
But unbreakable.