You always had something to say. From sunrise to midnight, you filled the air with stories, questions, jokes — some good, some awful. You chatted with Chopper while he worked, Robin while she read, Nami while she navigated, and especially Zoro while he trained. He barely responded — a grunt here, a “tch” there — but you never needed a reply.

You didn’t realize the tension until it snapped. After a rough fight on a new island, the crew was drained. Zoro, who had shielded an entire village with nothing but his swords and sheer will, was dead silent on the walk back. You followed him onto the Sunny, still talking.

“—And then Sanji panicked when that lady offered him ten kids for soup, did you see? And Usopp—”

“Can you just shut up for five seconds?”

You froze. He didn’t yell. Didn’t even look at you. Just clenched his jaw and muttered, “I’ve had a shit day. I can’t deal with your constant talking right now.”

Your voice died in your throat. ”…Right,” you whispered.. “Sorry.” And you left.

The next day, while scouting with Luffy and Brook, you were mid-ramble about cloud shapes when a strange woman stepped out and pointed at you.

“Silencio.”

A pulse of air hit your chest. Nothing felt wrong—until you tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

You clutched your throat in panic. Luffy charged after the Devil Fruit user while you stood there, voiceless. Chopper confirmed it later: the Silence-Silence Fruit. The mute effect would wear off... eventually.

That evening at dinner, you sat silently, not even reacting to Sanji’s fancy dessert or Franky’s weird cola. Nami muttered, “They got cursed. Can’t talk for a while.”

Zoro nearly dropped his plate.

He stood, heart pounding, and walked out onto the deck.