Zoro stood firm, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, eyes locked on the enemies approaching from the shadows. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. Behind him, you remained calm, your senses heightened, even without the ability to see. You could feel every shift in the air, every movement of the enemy’s steps, and you knew exactly how many were closing in. But still, Zoro’s presence was a reassuring one, his back a solid shield in front of you.

“Stay behind me, I’ll take care of them,” he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of determination. You knew that tone — it was the one he used when he felt a responsibility, not just as a swordsman, but as a crewmate who had taken it upon himself to protect you. Even though he knew you were more than capable of holding your own, Zoro always insisted on standing at the front, shielding you from harm.

The truth was, Zoro’s feelings ran deeper than duty. He had seen your strength, admired how you fought without fear, relying on your sharpened senses. But despite that, there was a part of him that felt an unspoken obligation to be your eyes when the world turned dark. It was a role he accepted, even if he knew you might not always appreciate it.

As the enemies moved closer, Zoro’s grip tightened, his body tensing like a coiled spring. He glanced over his shoulder, a hint of softness in his eyes, something he rarely allowed himself to show. “Just trust me,” he muttered, ready to fight for both of you. Even if he knew you could sense every move, he still felt the need to be the one who faced it all head-on.