Roronoa Zoro
“Bartender! A Round of Sake for me and my friend!” The drunken man smiled, raising his glass. I could only smile and roll my eyes, gathering cups from under the bar counter.
“How many would that be?” I smiled, pushing my hair out of my face and almost pulling it back into a high pony. I ensured the cups were clean before placing them on the counter before the man and his drunken rat-like friends.
“Just me and a few friends, about four of us.”
“Aye, ya lads partying?” I spoke, my accent slightly showing through my tone as I grabbed a couple more glasses. I grabbed what I like to believe is the strongest Sake we have, but money is tight nowadays with Pirates, Marines, and the Hunters all out for money, so I would be lying if I said the Sake wasn’t watered down.
“We just turned in one of the most wanted men.”
“Large payout,” The other man’s friend spoke with the Pirate hunters staring at me. If this wasn't my home and my bar, having four pirate hunters all around me might have made me nervous, but now. I’m in control.
“Large payout, huh?” I handed the men their Sake, the sound of the glass cups sliding over to them across the counter.
“Yeah, I mean 4,000 Berries all in one night.” The man blabbed on about his famous payout.
“Really?” I tried to sound interested in what these men were saying, but all I did was smile and nod, remembering who they were. They talked for what seemed like hours over and over about this payout. I stopped caring the moment they entered the room.
“So what's a girl like you doing working at a place like this?” The 3rd man spoke. He looked more like a rat than the rest, even with hair over his neck like some sort of rat tail. His breath smelled like nothing but beer and sake in his drunken state.
“Workin? What else?” I spat out. His voice was starting to annoy me. I don’t do romance. It’s not that it doesn't interest me; it's just that none of the guys that ever come to this bar have anything worth fighting for. It's worth stealing for.
“Our ship isn’t far from this dock if you want to join us.”
“I’m good,” I hissed before the man could say anything else. His friends laughed at his failed attempt, even a poor excuse for flirting in my eyes. I had Pirates tease better than this poor excuse for a hunter till an Idea popped into my head.
“Well, what's in it for me if I tag along?” I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the wooden counter covered in random stains. Strains of hair fell onto my face as I glared at the man. I always had this siren-like tone to my voice; I could drag any man into a trance if I wanted to. When it came to Berries and men, it was easier to convince them to let me tag along.
“Well, I Uh-” The man flushed, stumbling over his words, trying to figure out a complete plan than anything else. His friends laughed louder, making his voice crack under pressure.
“OH SHUT UP!” He pushed his friends back, and all I did was smile and laugh, stepping back as the men swung at each other. A bar fight is something I’m overly used to at this point. Men, hunters, pirates, and marines, a war broke out at one time because of them. It wasn’t much of a battle as the men tossed and turned, rolling on the ground, either getting hit or avoiding the punches as I wrote out their check, setting it on the counter for them to pay. Paying either I will force them, or they pay up like you're supposed to when you buy sake from a bar. I watched with a smile, still cleaning out the cups.
The sound of the towel squeaking through the glass made my ears ring, almost painful, something that would make a dog howl. I moved the cup back and placed it on the rack with rows and rows of other glasses. Behind those were rows and rows of different types of Sake. The bottle breaks echoed behind me as I looked the other way. It was never my business if they chose to kill themselves in my bar. I never touched them, and what they do is what they do. I never once had to care about them. The men finally stopped fighting, sitting up on the barstools. I glared at them all, hoping they didn’t get blood on anything nice since the one who yelled shut up was now dripping blood from his nose, making me pissy now. The man looked at the check, giving me a nasty look.
“60 Berries for four cups of Sake? Really Y/N?” The man spoke more like the leader. Now I could get a good look at him. He was covered in tattoos with a long grey beard, making my skin crawl and disgusted. They dressed in what looked like old-fashioned Pirate uniforms, likely stolen from their cashed payout.
“You said you were going to pay for you and your lads,” I said back, my accent thick and could break anyone's flimsy excuse of intimidation. I moved my apron slightly, the red with white poke-a-dots that always gave me an older look than what I was. I look 20, which I am, but I act like I’ve been around for 100 years, the confidence I own no one could match. No matter how strong even the Legendary Swordsman himself is, Speaking Of which, I don’t think it’s Dracule Mihawk anymore. It doesn't matter who it is, a man just like the rest.
“Just Pay the lady, Ajeet.” His friend who sat beside him dressed in an almost classier look as if he did care what he looked like when he left the ship.
“Fine, But I feel like I’ve been robbed!” Ajeet growled, his voice deep as if I had stolen all the payout he had just made. I don’t understand why he would be so mad now. I haven’t done it yet. I smiled at his words, taking the Berries with a smile and showing my teeth, making me look like the sweet, innocent girl I am not. The man sitting next to Ajeet smiled back as the one next to him on Ajeet’s left eye twitched at his friend as he held a napkin up to his nose. The four men left after a while, and the one that never spoke seemed to pay the most attention to me. He watched my every move but never spoke. I just kept his cold gaze on me.
I waved back as they finally left my bar, and the calm tone returned to where it truly belonged—the night finally reached the end. I could clean up the amount of trash and split Sake that could have made me more Berries, but those drunken rats had to make more of a mess out of my bar than I would ever. My bar wasn’t some pretty little mistake. I need more than just living; keeping up with payment was a part of me and my soul. It kept me alive through the years and years of dealing with who knows the amount of trauma I might have. I let my mind wander as I finished cleaning up the bar for the night. The tables were cleaned and wiped down, the counter was cleaned after I washed, and the glasses and dishes were done. Running this place isn’t easy, but I do it all alone. I dusted myself off before fully grabbing my purse and keys. I headed out of the door, closing the bar’s door behind me and locking the door.
“At least the day is over,” I mumbled, walking over the dock, my boots making a thunk noise as each step hit the wooden pier. The row of boats aligned with the porches at the ports was so peaceful, yet the waves crashed into them. The taste of salt on your lips from the sea still goes as if the storm was rolling in. I grabbed my pack of cigarettes that slipped out of my purse as if it were nothing. I fall the cancer-filled paper into my mouth, lighting it with a match. The smoke filled my lungs, and I felt an almost calm wash over me like the waves that crashed into the boats. Something about smoking just made me feel so relaxed, and yet it was so bad for you, but I could also argue anything good for you is terrible. Bad for you is good. Everyone had that guilty pleasure. Mine just happens to be smoking. I watched as men and women removed tied-up boats from the dock, leaving my pier almost empty. I don’t blame them. The storm that was coming wasn't something anyone wanted to deal with. After a bit, the only two boats left in the Peir was one with a strange flag. Like a skull with a straw hat over it, I stared at the flag for what felt like ages. Something wanted me to get closer. I couldn't stop myself as I got closer. Something in me said I needed to.
Even my body was convinced as I walked near the ship, which seemed almost empty. The waves hitting it gave the boat a hunted look as if it was abandoned. I stepped over the railing as my feet landed on the ra-shaped heading that gave the ship a strange feeling. I followed the header down, leading onto the real poop deck. Something about the boat seemed off the more, and the more profound I got in the ship, every once in a while taking drags of my cigarettes till I reached a strange door. It was labeled Roronoa Zoro, as if it was someone’s room. I smiled as the smoke left my lungs out of my mouth from between my teeth. I slowly reached the handle, opening the door to a mat on the floor with little blankets spread around; clearly, someone sleeps there—pictures of people up the walls. I paid no attention to this until my eyes raced over to three swords lined up in a row stacked on top of one another like some expensive decoration. I stepped into the room more, which was shocking. It didn’t smell like musk. It smelt very lemony, like limes. As I went to grab the word, my fingers traced the blade towards the handle.
“The hell do you think you're doing?” I Froze as the voice behind me rose. I didn’t even hear him step onto the boat, but his voice was like silk but strong. Now I had my hands wrapped around the end of the sword, almost scared to turn around.
“I assumed this boat was empty. My bad, lad.” I managed to peep out, trying to think now, slightly cursing under my breath for letting my thoughts control my body. I was never genuinely thinking, but something brought me here, and now I have to deal with the problems I caused.
“Drop my sword. Or else”
“Or else what?” I laughed, trying to seem confident, as I turned around in complete shock and filled my lungs, and the smoke raged out. There he stood, a tall man around 5’11? With bright neon hair, a white shirt covers his chest, and bandages are over his side. Fresh applications, he had his hand over it with a black bandana over his eyes, giving him his deadly look as we made eye contact.
“Do you want to find out?” His voice rose as he held out his hand as I gently placed the sword in his palm.
“Hey! Zoro! Your hurt. You should lay down,” A voice comes behind him from a tall, thin kid with black hair and a straw hat—the same on the flag.
