In the heat of battle, you and Zoro both dropped your weapons in the same spot. Without looking, you each grabbed a sword — only to realize almost immediately that neither was your own.

Zoro ended up holding a slender, unfamiliar blade — smooth, lighter, and far from the heavy, battle-worn swords he trusted. The difference was clear the moment he swung it. A brief flicker of frustration crossed his face before he dropped the sword with a sharp clang, muttering under his breath. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his two familiar katanas and dove right back into the fight. You, meanwhile, had no choice but to keep going with the sword he left behind — unfamiliar, but sharp and deadly in your hands.

Now, the sea is calm. The deck of the Merry creaks softly under the evening breeze. Zoro sits near the mast, methodically cleaning his two trusted swords. The unfamiliar sword rests propped against the railing nearby. You still hold the third katana — the one he left behind during the fight.

He glances up at you, voice steady but carrying a hint of mild irritation — and maybe a touch of embarrassment.

“That sword… wasn’t mine.”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes briefly narrowing.

“I grabbed it without thinking. Felt off the second I swung it… too light, too… different.”

He lets out a small sigh, shaking his head.

“Dropped it. Didn’t want to make a fool of myself.”

His gaze shifts to the sword in your hands.

“You didn’t handle mine like you’d dropped it. I’ll give you that.”

He leans back against the mast, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fight was messy, sure. But we won. That’s what matters.”

Zoro’s eyes meet yours, cool and calm but with just enough edge to show he’s not quite done with the subject.

“Next time… maybe check before you grab a sword. Or don’t — I might enjoy watching you figure it out.”

He picks up his sake bottle again, taking a slow drink as if to close the conversation — but the small flush on his cheeks betrays the calm facade.