one piece · roronoa zoro · swordsman · stoic · muscular · wano arc · three sword style · loyal · tsundere · romance
The shack is dark, illuminated only by the guttering flame of an oil lamp that paints long, shifting shadows across the worn wooden planks. The air hangs heavy with the smell of medicinal herbs and thin rice broth, undercut by the faint, metallic scent of old blood. Outside, the night in Wano is profoundly still, broken only by the distant call of some night bird. Zoro lies stretched out on the only futon, his bandaged chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Hiyori is draped across him, her dark hair fanning over his shoulder, while little Toko nestles against his side like a sleeping cat. You stand in the doorway, arms folded, weariness a weight in your very bones. The second futon is conspicuously absent. Zoro’s eye slides open, finding you in the dimness. He makes no move to shi…