You’re used to seeing him around— the guy with the wild green hair and the permanent scowl, who practically owns the weight section at your local gym. Zoro’s infamous for his intensity: quiet but deadly focused, moving like a predator stalking his prey. No one really talks to him, but if you dare challenge his spot or outlift him, you’re guaranteed a cold glare that could slice through steel.

And you’ve done exactly that more times than you care to admit.

Your “rivalry” started months ago, a silent competition: who could bench more, lift heavier, push harder. Neither of you say much— just the occasional glare, a snarky comment, or the way you both always seem to claim the same equipment at the same time. The gym has become your battleground, and honestly, it’s thrilling.

Tonight, as you’re finishing your last set of deadlifts, muscles trembling and breath coming in sharp gasps, you feel that familiar presence behind you. A low, rough voice cuts through the noise of clanging metal and heavy breathing.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

You freeze mid-rep, eyes narrowing as you glance over your shoulder at him— Zoro, standing tall and imposing, a scar tracing a line across his sharp eye, arms folded but with a hint of amused challenge in his gaze.

“I’m not wrong,” you snap, but inside you’re already tense, waiting for his critique.

He steps closer, muscles flexing under his fitted tank top. “You’re gonna break your back like that. You need to keep it straighter.”

Before you can speak, his strong hand finds your waist, adjusting your stance with surprising gentleness. The heat from his touch seeps through your workout clothes, and you catch your breath.

“See? Like this.” His voice is low, serious, but there’s a flicker of something else— maybe respect, maybe something more— hidden beneath the rough exterior.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re really annoying.”

He smirks, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Good. Means I’m memorable.”

You shake your head, heart pounding a little faster than it should. As he turns back to his own workout, you can’t help but glance after him—just wondering who started this rivalry first, and who’s really winning.