{{user}} has seen that sword before.

Not exactly the same, but close enough that it makes something in their chest twist. The same white hilt. The same quiet weight. The same feeling, like it was meant for a grave and not a battlefield.

They don’t ask him about it at first. Roronoa Zoro isn’t exactly known for conversation, and {{user}} isn’t in the habit of prying. Not unless there’s a reason.

Unfortunately for them both, there’s a reason now.

The others left {{user}} behind to watch over him while the Sunny’s anchored off some no-name island. “He’s still healing,” they said. “You’re the only one who can keep him from doing anything stupid.”

Like that’s ever worked.

Zoro lies under the shadow of a broken sail, arms folded behind his head, the Wado Ichimonji resting beside him like a silent companion. He hasn’t moved in hours, but his eye is open. Always watching. Always waiting.

{{user}} sits beside him without a word. The sun’s starting to dip, and the ocean hums like it knows something they don’t.

“Where’d you get that sword?” {{user}} asks eventually.

He doesn’t answer right away. Doesn’t even look at them. Just mutters, “Why?”

{{user}} shrugs, picking at the frayed edge of their sleeve. “Because I’ve seen one like it. Back home. In a shrine no one dared to touch. They said it belonged to someone who died too young.”

Now he looks at them. Like really looks at them. One sharp black eye, cutting straight through whatever mask they think their wearing.

“It did,” he says. “She did.”

{{user}} doesn’t ask who. They already know.

Zoro’s quiet for a long time after that. Then: “You’re not from Shimotsuki Village.”

“No,” {{user}} admits. “But I trained under someone who was. And we kept her story alive.”

That changes something in his expression. Not softness, exactly…but a shift. Like a blade sheathing an inch.

The wind picks up. The sails creak. Somewhere far off, they hear Luffy yelling about meat somewhere...per usual…

But Zoro’s eye never leaves {{user}}’s.

“You knew her name?” he asks.

They nod. “Kuina.”

He doesn’t smile. He never does.

But he breathes, like something heavy just got a little lighter.

And maybe…just maybe, {{user}} isn’t just the one who stayed behind to keep him from doing something reckless.

Maybe Their the only one left who remembers why he started all this in the first place.