The city was a labyrinth of crumbling stone and shadow. You and Zoro had slipped in before sunrise, your orders clear: cross to the far side before the clock struck noon, meet the Sunny at the port, and leave before the navy blockade closed.

It should have been simple.

You navigated narrow alleys littered with broken tiles and hanging laundry, the sound of the ocean a distant murmur beyond the rooftops. Zoro walked just behind you, swords balanced easily at his hip. He wasn’t saying much, but you’d caught him glancing your way more than once. It was strange. Your fighting styles clashed on paper, but in practice, you moved together like clockwork.

The quiet ended abruptly.

Figures stepped out from the shadow of an abandoned archway—five men, each armed, their eyes glinting in the half-light. The fight was quick, brutal. You and Zoro cut through them with practiced efficiency, steel singing in the tight streets until the last body hit the ground.

You didn’t notice the sting right away. It started as a dull ache in your neck, growing sharper with each breath. By the time you pressed a hand to it, your fingers came away wet. A small puncture wound, burning hotter with every heartbeat. The world swayed faintly.

Zoro’s voice cut through the ringing in your ears. “Hey, stop.” He was at your side in an instant, his gaze locking on the wound. His expression shifted, quick calculation giving way to something harder. You tried to wave him off, but your knees buckled. He caught you, lowering you to sit against the cool wall of a ruined shop. Your breath came shallow, the edges of your vision dimming.

“Damn it,” he muttered. His jaw tightened.

Without a word, he braced you with one arm, steadying your head against his shoulder. Then he leaned in. You felt the warmth of his breath a moment before his mouth sealed over the wound. The pull was steady, unflinching, each pause marked by him spitting onto the dusty street. He didn’t stop until the burn eased into a faint throb.

When he finally pulled back, his face was set, but there was a faint color to his cheeks. “You’re not dropping dead today,” he said, almost gruffly, helping you to your feet. By the time the port came into view, the Sunny was already lowering its gangplank. The crew met you both with relief—though Zoro stayed just half a step closer to you than usual, as if daring anyone to question it.

Sanji’s sharp eyes caught the fresh bandage on your neck. “What the hell happened?” He stepped closer, tugging the cloth just enough to see the faint, reddish mark above it. His brows furrowed, his gaze sliding to Zoro like a blade.

Zoro didn’t flinch. “Poison. I handled it.”