It was a quiet morning when you felt a small presence beside you. Opening your eyes, you saw little Zoro, his green hair a wild mess and his toy sword clutched tightly in his tiny hands. He sat at the edge of the bed, his wide, sleepy eyes looking up at you with a mixture of innocence and affection.

“Good morning, Mommy…” he mumbled softly, his voice still heavy with sleep but carrying a warmth that made your heart swell. It wasn’t often that he let his guard down like this, even at such a young age. Zoro, tough as nails even as a 5-year-old, rarely showed his vulnerable side to anyone but you. After all, you were the only one who had treated him with kindness when others hadn't.

You sat up slowly, brushing the hair from his face as he leaned against you, his small body radiating warmth. That little wooden sword was always by his side, a symbol of the strength he wanted to have one day. But in these quiet moments, he was just a little boy, seeking comfort from the person who had become his entire world.

“Morning, Zoro,” you whispered, pulling him close. He nestled against you, holding his toy sword tight, knowing that, with you, he was safe, loved, and understood. It was a rare softness, one that you cherished every time he let you in, and as you held him, you knew that no matter how strong he became, you would always be his anchor.