The motorcycle engine rumbled steadily, a deep and stable sound that should have calmed his mind like it always did.
The road stretched out before him. Usually, it helped him clear his head, to relax, to refocus… but today, it brought him no comfort.
Every meter he traveled seemed to disappear into an invisible fog that dulled his thoughts.
Zoro was riding the way he breathed—out of habit, without thinking—letting his body handle what his mind refused to face. His hands were firm on the handlebars, his gaze fixed straight ahead, but nothing he saw truly registered. Everything passed without existing.
The wind kept slamming against his damaged helmet, but even that sensation meant nothing anymore.
There was only that sentence, repeating over and over, forcing itself into his mind with silent brutality.
She's dead.
A traffic light turned red in the distance, and once again, his body reacted a second too late. His fingers suddenly tightened on the brake, and the bike came to a sharp, almost violent stop, breaking the smooth flow of his ride.
SCREEECH!
The noise immediately drew attention, and a horn blared behind him.
HONK!
HONK!
Zoro didn't even turn his head. His eyes stayed fixed forward, but he saw nothing, as if the world had lost all substance. Traffic slowly resumed around him, but he remained still for a moment too long.
"…Two years."
The words slipped from his lips without him realizing, carried by an uneven breath. Two years. Two whole years during which he had done nothing, seen nothing, understood nothing. And now he was back… for nothing.
The light turned green.
Cars started moving.
He stayed frozen.
Then suddenly—
VROOOM!
The motorcycle shot forward, devouring the distance with almost aggressive force. His grip tightened on the throttle, as if he were trying to escape something that could never be left behind.
"I should've come sooner."
Fragments of memories resurfaced—disordered, incomplete, but clear enough to tighten his chest. Tsukumo's gaze. The way she spoke. Her constant insults that barely hid what she was really doing.
She kept insisting she hadn't given them anything for free… yet she had given them everything anyway.
The ride continued like that—mechanical, tense—until the house finally came into view. Without really slowing down, he parked in front of it, cut the engine, and silence fell abruptly around him.
---
He remained seated on the bike for a few seconds, motionless, his hands still resting on the handlebars. The world had calmed down again, but inside him, nothing had settled.
It was worse.
Much worse.
Slowly, he removed his helmet.
CLACK!
The cool air hit his face, but he didn't react. His eyes remained fixed on the ground, as if searching for something he knew he would never find. His jaw tightened slightly.
"…Fuck."
His voice was low, rough, almost choked.
He got off the motorcycle without really noticing, his movements slow and imprecise, as if his body had lost part of its coordination.
Even his Observation Haki, once unshakable, was wavering.
He walked into the house.
CLAC
Silence welcomed him immediately—heavy, suffocating. There was no sound, no presence, nothing to distract him from the thoughts looping endlessly in his mind.
He walked into the living room, stopped for a moment, then his legs suddenly gave out.
THUD!
He dropped heavily onto the couch, his back slightly hunched, elbows resting on his knees. His hands came together in front of his face, and for a few seconds, he didn't move at all.
His breathing was uneven.
Unstable.
"…Where was I…?" he murmured, his voice trembling.
The question lingered in the air—unanswered, inescapable. There was nothing to say, nothing to justify. Just a void he couldn't fill.
Time passed.
Minutes? An hour?
He had no idea.
Then—
CLAC!
The front door opened.
---
Toji
Toji stepped into the house, casually taking off his shoes, ready to throw out a comment like he always did. The day had been long, pointless, and he fully intended to complain about it when he got back.
"Yo, I'm back—"
He stopped dead.
Something was wrong.
He had no reason to feel it, no reason to think it, and yet his instincts screamed the same thing:
Something was wrong.
He took a few slow steps forward until he caught sight of Zoro in the living room.
And then he understood immediately.
The look on his brother's face said everything.
He looked tired.
Not the usual exhaustion he saw after intense training. What he saw now was the kind of fatigue he had seen in some of their employers.
The kind that wanted revenge.
But why would Zoro want revenge? They had already done that not long ago. The thought left Toji confused.
Zoro sat there, motionless, leaning forward, his gaze empty, as if everything that made him who he was had been stripped away. There was no anger, no visible tension—just a disturbing absence.
Toji froze.
One second.
Two seconds.
His first instinct should have been to joke, to provoke, to break the atmosphere like he always did.
But this time… he couldn't.
Because he understood.
Not what had happened, not what his brother was feeling, not even why—but he understood that it was hurting him.
And for the first time, a thought crossed his mind with unexpected clarity.
It's my turn.
He slowly approached, quietly, as if afraid of breaking something fragile. His eyes stayed locked on his brother, observing every detail, searching for what to do, what to say.
They had never been in this position before.
Never.
It had always been the opposite.
Always Zoro holding everything together.
Always Zoro taking the hits.
Always Zoro moving forward.
And him… just following.
But today—
It was different.
Toji stopped beside the couch, hesitated for a brief moment, then sat down next to him without a word. Silence settled between them, but this time, it wasn't empty.
It was shared.
He slowly placed his hand on Zoro's shoulder.
The gesture was simple, awkward—probably the first time he had ever done something like this—but that wasn't the point. As long as it conveyed his concern, it was enough.
"…What happened?"
His voice was lower than usual, less sharp, more… human.
Zoro didn't answer right away.
Then finally—
"…She's dead."
Silence fell again.
Toji didn't ask any questions.
He didn't need to.
He knew who Zoro was talking about, and even if they hadn't been that close, his chest tightened at the news.
But he couldn't dwell on his own feelings right now.
He tightened his grip slightly on Zoro's shoulder.
Just enough to be there.
Not enough to force anything.
It's the first time… his jaw tightened slightly. …that I can really do something for him.
And that simple thought filled him with a determination he had never felt before.
---
Time passed without them really speaking. Toji's presence—silent but steady—acted like an anchor, keeping Zoro from sinking completely into what was overwhelming him.
His breathing gradually stabilized.
Slowly.
With difficulty.
But enough.
Zoro slightly raised his head, a faint light returning to his eyes. He remained silent for a few seconds, as if putting his thoughts back in order.
Then something resurfaced.
And hit him like a blow.
His eyes widened at his own stupidity as he suddenly stood up.
"Damn it, how could I forget?!"
Toji, who had remained silent until now, looked at him in complete confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
Zoro turned toward him, his eyes filled with panic and urgency.
"Yuki!"
"Yuki? Who's that?"
Obviously, Toji had never met her, nor had he even heard about her.
"Tsukumo Yuki. She's Hyo's daughter."
"He had a daughter?"
That genuinely surprised Toji. He had spent over two weeks in that house, yet he had never seen anyone besides his brother and her.
"Yes. And I have to find her. I couldn't repay my debt to him… so now his daughter becomes my creditor."