The night air is strangely clear, the scent of salt water almost palpable. Zoro walks along the deck, his boots tapping rhythmically on the wood. However, there is another scent, one he cannot quite place. He pauses, hand on the hilts of his swords, trying to identify it. It's faint at first, an odd musky aroma, but as the wind shifts, he is suddenly sure.

The scent of an omega.