And that was how Inagaki Ryuma came to be — future heir of a yakuza clan in Osaka.
It was also how going back to school became unavoidable. Sitting through classes surrounded by rich kids every single day was genuinely unbearable, but dwelling on it at length isn't worth the energy.
What's worth talking about is how Inagaki Ryuma eventually became Roronoa Zoro.
It all started in September 1992. First year of middle school, about to turn thirteen.
The day began without incident. Toji and I were dropped off in front of the school by our personal driver, same as always.
The uniform: gray pants, red blazer, white shirt, burgundy bow tie. Black loafers, white socks up to the calves.
Out of the car, feet dragging — the walk of someone who had not chosen to be here and wanted that known. Because that was exactly the situation.
On the way to the main building, the usual circus unfolded right on schedule.
A group of girls materialized around us and launched into their morning greetings — though the majority were aimed at Toji, if we're being precise about it.
Taking him out of the Zen'in clan's orbit early enough had spared him from developing a cold personality. He was good with people, comfortable in a crowd, easy to be around. The kind of person who remembered names and used them.
Meanwhile, brooding in a corner and occasionally swearing under the breath was more the routine on this end. So despite the identical faces, the gap in popularity between us was fairly significant and entirely deserved.
"Good morning, Riichiro-kun."
"Good morning, Miko-san."
"Kya, he knows my name!"
Another girl shoved Miko aside and planted herself directly in front of Toji. "Me too, me too!"
Toji answered with the usual easy smile. "Good morning to you as well, Sazae-san."
This went on for several minutes without showing any sign of stopping. And unfortunately Toji wasn't the only target.
A girl peeled away from the group and approached. "Good morning, Ryuma-kun."
Monotone. "Good morning."
She waited, clearly hoping for more. None came. She backed away.
Another one tried almost immediately — this one considerably more energetic, rushing over like someone with somewhere urgent to be.
"Good morning, Ryuma-kun!"
Same answer. "Good morning."
All that energy turned out to be purely surface level. The flat tone deflated her on the spot, and she dissolved back into the crowd without another word.
A third approached — more timid than the others, visibly tense, the words already stumbling before they'd even started.
"G-Good m-morning, R-Ryu—"
She didn't finish. Another girl shoved her aside before the sentence could close.
"If you have nothing to say, get out of the way." The look she gave the timid girl was the kind reserved for furniture — pure contempt — but her tone shifted entirely when she turned back. "Good morning, Ryuma-kun. Did you sleep well? I'm planning a birthday party at my place and I'd love to have you and your brother there. Will you come?"
Cheeks flushed, smile wide, hand extended — clearly expecting an immediate and enthusiastic yes.
The response was the most diplomatic one available.
Complete and total silence.
Walking straight past her without so much as glancing at her face. The surrounding noise dropped out of the air entirely.
Down to a knee beside the timid girl, still on the ground. Uniform dirty, eyes already filling at the corners.
No time given to process what was happening — both hands took her by the shoulders and helped her upright.
"What?" Tight voice, confused expression. No explanation was coming.
She was dusted off carefully. A quick check to confirm nothing was hurt. Then walking again.
"Let's go, Riichiro."
"Okay, bro. Sorry girls — we have to get to class."
Toji used the opening and slipped out from his cluster of admirers.
Once clear of the crowd, he didn't catch up right away. He turned back toward the girl still standing frozen in place, hand still extended as if the refusal simply hadn't registered yet.
"Sorry — we won't be able to make it to your party. I hope everything goes well."
The main building was already in sight by then, and Toji's delay was starting to be noticeable.
"HURRY UP, RIICHIRO!"
"I'M COMING, I'M COMING, A LITTLE PATIENCE PLEASE!"
He broke into a run and closed the gap quickly.
From somewhere behind, a voice tore through the morning:
"HOW DARE HE?! DOES HE KNOW WHO MY PARENTS ARE?!"
An amused snort slipped out before it could be stopped.
"Classic young master behavior."
Toji, walking alongside, looked slightly pained.
"Are you sure that was really the best approach? We might end up hated by both boys and girls because of you."
"First — if being hated gives me peace, let them hate me. Second — the boys already hate us because of the girls. That's not changing regardless. And third…" the smug smile arrived on its own, "…I genuinely wanted to see her face. It was too tempting. Couldn't help it."
There's nothing particularly admirable about humiliating a thirteen-year-old. Acknowledged freely. But a young master is a young master, and the satisfaction doesn't diminish with age.
'Ahh, Naoya… this is going to be so much fun.'
---
Cling! Clong!
"Ahh. This shitty day is finally over."
Stiff limbs stretched out after a full day confined to a chair. Heading toward the shoe lockers, already thinking about the car and the leather seat and the blessed absence of anyone discussing course material.
The sound of crying reached the area before the lockers even came into view.
A girl, surrounded by two friends doing their best to comfort her. Not far from the group, Toji stood watching with an expression caught somewhere between discomfort and guilt, clearly not sure where to put himself.
The situation didn't require much interpretation.
Walking up beside him. "Another confession?"
A weak nod.
"You're a real heartbreaker, lil bro."
"Please don't. I did everything possible to let her down gently — nothing worked. She started crying the moment I said sorry."
"Ha. That's exactly why I told you to stop being gentle about it. My approach works perfectly fine."
At first, the confession count ran roughly equal between the two of us. The reason was never entirely clear. Cold to everyone, zero visible effort at being approachable, and yet somehow landing at the same level of popularity as Toji.
Eventually the conclusion presented itself: the manga had it right. Girls really do gravitate toward the dark, brooding, says-nothing-in-the-corner type.
The early attempts at considerate rejections wore out their welcome quickly. One particularly irritating afternoon, frustration already running high from the day, a girl arrived with a letter.
The letter was taken and torn to pieces in front of her without a word.
She cried quite a lot. The apology came the following morning and was genuine. But no more confession letters arrived after that day.
Problem resolved, if somewhat brutally.
"Nothing you can do for her now. Get your things, we're leaving."
Shoes swapped, slippers returned to the locker. Toji did the same. Out of the building, driver already waiting at the curb exactly where he always was.
Into the car. The leather seat absorbed the weight of the entire day at once.
"Let's go."
"Very well, sir."
Engine on. Ten minutes of unremarkable driving before traffic tightened around them and everything stopped.
Beep!
Beep!
The honking was immediate and unbroken. Irritating within seconds — but somewhere buried inside the noise, something else cut through.
WIIIHOOO!
WIIIHOOO!
WIIIHOOO!
Police sirens. Multiple, and close.
Normally not worth a second thought. But something in the gut said otherwise.
The door opened. Out of the car.
"Go ahead without me. I'll catch up."
The chauffeur nodded without question. "As you wish, sir."
Following the sound brought them to a large crowd gathered outside a residential house. Five police cars, three ambulances, all positioned around the building. Police tape sealed off the perimeter. Paramedics were moving sheet-covered shapes out through the front door.
Standing still in the crowd. Listening.
Two people nearby were talking.
"Same as before — adults dead, children missing."
"Fifth time this month. Something's seriously wrong."
That detail stuck.
'So this isn't an isolated incident.'
The distance was too great for passive Observation Haki to reach the house properly. The range was extended deliberately — and just as expected, traces of cursed energy were there waiting, unmistakable.
'Cursed spirit or a curse user. If it's the latter — they've got some nerve operating in this city.'
A quiet step back from the crowd. Back to the car, which hadn't made much progress in the traffic.
'Coming back tonight. It's been a while since the last hunt.'