Chapter Text
The woods of Kiello had a bear problem.
The aggressive kind. The kind that when coming to his evening shift, kicking his skateboard into his hand, and noticing a splatter of blood and guts on the tiny gas station parking lot, Zoro kind of just tilted his head and hoped that splatter wasn’t his coworker.
Not that he liked Abe that much. Or, like, at all. He was a stupid dick, honestly, who had probably – Very likely, actually, let’s not be too nice – done some seriously messed up shit.
Abe didn’t exactly stand out from the rest of the population in the shitty town of Kiello, though. No, because no one with a clean criminal record, or with any alternative place to stay, would ever choose to remain there.
Well, except for Zoro.
That was different, though.
The job as a gas station clerk was just chill, yeah?
At least kind of.
At least the pay was good.
At first, Zoro had been pretty sure the grumpy old lady who’d hired him had accidentally moved the comma a bit too much to the right, but as Zoro totally was the type to believe there was still generosity and good and that sort of stuff left in people, pointing out she might’ve made a mistake would’ve just been rude and demeaning. Or whatever.
But with the, you know, bears he had to deal with, he didn’t mind the extra cash.
”Bye, Abe,” he saluted the splat of guts with two fingers, walking past it.
The splat might’ve been Abe, might not have, but Zoro still had that feeling he’d not be seeing Abe’s stupid face anymore – In a sense it would be attached to Abe’s body anyway.
Probably.
Because- Sure. Sometimes people left. That wasn’t impossible. Like people left in ways all natural and shit, like maybe their grimy past finally caught up to them and now they were at the bottom of the ocean with their feet stuck in a piece of cement. Or maybe their liver finally gave out from all the bottles drank, or they glanced at the rope from the general store with new eyes and realized it would look pretty fucking neat in the shape of a noose.
Or maybe they grew the spine and the guts and really just... Left. Walked out.
Ha.
No.
For real, though, it was the bears.
Kiello, with its swampy, boreal forest where the nasty stuff just piled on and on and on, where nothing ever really got the chance to decay properly because of the forever chilly dampness in the air that turned everything all slimy and gross, was just a good place for them.
Depressing-ass place.
Skateboard thrown over his shoulder, pinky scratching his ear, Zoro walked inside the gas station.
It took him half an hour to confirm that, yeah, the sun had now set, so yeah, no one would be coming in, so yeah, the stain was probably Abe, so yeah, he’d be working alone.
Which was kind of gnawing, because it was the one thing he’d been promised wouldn’t happen – That he’d never be alone at night. Not that it mattered, because if shit was to go shit, it would go shit, no matter how many humans there were.
So. Ultimately whatever, you know. Unless you, like, really wanted to force the scale to tip in one direction, because then it would go to the side of hell yeah, he’d never be seeing Abe again.
An order came in through the drive-through intercom, and Zoro went to pick up the garden axe, bleach, and dental floss. Bringing them to the drive-through window, no one was on the other side of the glass.
He paused, the items in his hands.
Yeah, no. He’d not be opening the window and shoving his head out to see where the customer stood – Stood, because none of them ever used a car – so he put the things pack to the shelves. He returned to his chair behind the counter and started putting a new grip on his skateboard.
At one point, the door opened, and Zoro’s chest squeezed with the familiar sort of despair as a dark presence flowed in. Zoro kept his head down, hands steadily continuing to swap the tires of his skateboard, only pausing to pick his nose, because that’s what you do when you think you’re alone.
Because if you didn’t see them, they didn’t see you - That's how it went.
Pretty easy.
Chill job.
Just don’t look at them directly. Through the window was fine - Hence the drive-through service not being an immediate death sentence.
The door opened again, and it was gone. The squeeze around Zoro’s chest disappeared, despair faded into the usual dullness, and Zoro continued to work on his skateboard.
The intercom went off, and he tapped his headset.
”Yeah?”
The intercom static went on. Nothing. He shrugged and closed the call.
Most of them couldn’t even speak, so it wasn’t that odd. Still, they liked to try, sometimes even managed out a grunt or a snippet of a sentence that made no sense. They wanted to lure him out, but generally sucked at being creative with it.
No one bought the help:s or the come out:s they usually tried.
Or at least Zoro didn't. Abe might have.
Mostly, though, it just meant a lot of empty calls throughout his shift.
It went off again. He answered.
“Yeah?”
A staticy sigh came through the intercom.
”No,” it said, and Zoro frowned at the disdainful tone. “A bit more politely, please.”
Zoro leaned back in his chair, licking his teeth.
Okay.
The sentence made sense, but was stupid, so... He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
It was probably fine, though.
”So what do you want?” he asked, swaying the chair back and forth in a half circle.
The voice sounded annoyed.
”Better service.”
A-ha.
Zoro watched his feet shift on the ground to keep the steady swaying of the chair up and waited for the thing to tell him what it actually wanted.
”Didn’t you hear me?” it snapped after a while.
”Did," Zoro said.
”So..?”
”So..?” Zoro repeated, annoyed, because if the next thing it said wasn’t an order of powdered donuts, instant ramen, or their special on-sale Mystery Meat 1999, Zoro would count this as a shitty attempt at luring him out and would be hanging up.
”When greeting a gue-”
Zoro hung up.
There was a silence for a moment before the intercom rang again.
Zoro picked it up.
“Yeah?”
“When greet-”
Zoro hung up.
It rang again, so Zoro pushed the headset off.
It didn’t stop.
Zoro ripped the headset back up.
“Yeah?” he snapped, giving the thing one last fucking chance.
”That is not how you do it, my dear,” the thing started off, indignant, and Zoro wanted to gag and claw his ears out because ew. ”Honestly, doesn’t anyone train their employees pro-”
Zoro hung up with a grimace.
The intercom rang, and Zoro bared his teeth. He answered by blowing a loud raspberry.
He heard an indignant scoff.
Then, furious footsteps – Didn't Zoro say they were all by foot? – echoed off, and Zoro sucked his teeth, bracing himself for the inevitable shaking of the building, the flickering lights, the shadowy visions pushing themselves on the windows, or whatever this guy’s get fucked you stupid human-move was.
What he hadn’t expected, though, was the door to slam open, and oh shit, oh wow, oh fuck – None of them had ever done that before. No, because if they used the intercom, they didn’t come in, because... Because that's just how it was, okay?
Had always been.
Up until now.
Well shit.
But Zoro still hadn't seen it, so it was fine; He just needed to keep his head low and not look. The thing could search the entire store from its water-damaged floor to the mold-infested ceiling and not spot Zoro chilling in the chair behind the desk.
So he continued his little sway on his chair. He put his attention on lifting his toes and watching his duct-taped shoes' heads lift up and down. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get new ones – He just liked these ones.
“You think you’re being funny?”
It couldn’t be talking to Zoro because Zoro hadn’t seen it, so this was still a part of its lure technique.
Dumbass. Like Zoro would fall for that.
A gloved hand slammed onto the table in front of Zoro, and he froze mid-spin.
The fuck?
“Hey!” The hand snapped its fingers, and Zoro stared at it, chills going through him. “I’m talking to you, you green shithead.”
Cold bubbles were popping in his chest.
Well.
He'd survived almost two years there, so getting ripped to pieces was starting to be only a matter of time, anyway.
But he just didn’t understand how the thing had seen him. Not that it mattered that much, because count to ten and he’d be dead and free of his confusion, but, like... Still.
What?
He licked his lips and, with his gaze, followed the hand all the way up to see a...
A human face?
Zoro frowned.
Like a real-ass human face attached to a human body with two arms, two legs, usual height, and blond hair. A human who was pissed and glaring down at Zoro with narrow eyes, but a human nonetheless.
“Do you?” the blond human snapped, and it was like a slap on the face, waking Zoro back into the current time.
”Not really,” Zoro said honestly. He was a little stumped because how- What- How the fuck had the guy survived all the way there?
What had happened?
Going by the looks of him – The suit, the styled hair, the gloves – he could be straight from a casino. Maybe he’d hitchhiked his way from the nearest one, trying to escape his losses like every tenth person in Kiello, and by some weird miracle had managed through the gas station parking lot without dying.
Huh.
Maybe.
Zoro felt his mouth shift from his stumped scowl into an annoyed scowl.
Cool, so yet another loser to their population. Make this addition a pretentious slimebag.
”Not really?” The blond repeated, lifting his eyebrows. ”Then what the hell was that shit though the intercom?”
Zoro shrugged.
“This is a gas station," he said slowly. You couldn't expect some five-star treatment as the place literally had no standards.
And that was not just in general, but also within gas stations. More things leaked than didn't leak. They had a professional cleaner come in, like, once a year. Last time she did, she'd puked. Three out of four of their gasbumps had been replaced with cardboard boxes, with one of them having a raccoon living in it.
It was probably a raccoon.
If it wasn't, Zoro didn't want to know what it was.
Anyway.
The blond leaned closer, the corner of his eye twitching with the glare he was giving.
”Yes. Do you know what gas station work is?” he hissed, and Zoro leaned back, squinting at him. The blond's eyebrows looked stupid as hell, all swirly. “Customer service. And in customer service, you treat the customers with respect.”
Zoro scowled.
“Do I have to if they’re assholes?”
The blond’s eyebrows arched.
”Wanna try that again?” He asked, voice taking a quieter, sweeter tone, and Zoro cringed hearing it.
”No,” Zoro said, because he saw no flaws in what he’d said. You get what you give, and even then, Zoro still had his own limit when giving back, so.
Bummer.
It still was a standardless gas station, like, come on.
“You sure?” The blond continued his horrible attempt to get his softly talking villain fantasy up and going, and Zoro's upper lip curled back in distaste.
“Suck my dick,” he gritted.
The blond’s eyes flashed, and Zoro got a cold, itchy feeling on his temple. He scratched it.
”No,” the blond's voice was thin and snippy, having lost the traces of trying to sound even remotely smooth, which – Thank fuck. Zoro wouldn’t have been able to take much more. His eyes followed Zoro’s lowering hand before snapping back to his face. ”No, I don’t think so- You’re not talking to me like that.”
”Yeah?” Zoro crossed his arms over his chest. ”What are you gonna do about it?”
The blond straightened up, gloved fingers sliding on the table away from Zoro. He had both the posture and the expression of someone who was having a prickly stick pushed up their ass.
”Do you have any idea what sort of day I’ve had?” The blond snapped and no, why the fuck would Zoro know? ”Exactly!” The blond hissed like Zoro wasn’t currently doing his best don’t know, don’t care-expression. “And that is the reason why a person in your position should always be polite, because you never know what the other person is going through.”
Zoro glared for a moment and then swooshed his hand at the freezers.
“Had a shit day?” He asked, eyebrows raised. “Well, boo-hoo, shithead, there’s ice cream. It’s a bit melted, because, again, this is a shitty gas station – Can't fucking expect class.”
Zoro crossed his arms with a glare, and the blond glared back.
”I expect human decency,” the blond snarled.
”Get a friend.”
”You-”
The bell over the door rang. Zoro felt a dark presence roll in like a cloud of fiberglass as his lungs started to prickle with tiny needles.
Zoro recognized the feeling.
This thing had visited him before.
He’d just barely survived it that time, had almost suffocated from its mere presence, because that was the shitty thing about them: Some didn’t even need to know about you to potentially kill you. Their stink they spread around naturally was enough.
The blond had noticed the thing coming in as well, and Zoro’s Don’t! died in his throat as the blond twisted around to see who had dared to interrupt him. Zoro’s heart plummeted.
Nice.
That’s it- That’s it.
The dickhead got them both killed.
But the blond scoffed, flipped his hand towards the door like swatting away an annoying fly, and the feeling of fiberglass in Zoro’s lungs disappeared as the door slammed shutttoooh shit.
Shit.
The blond was one of them after all.
Zoro’s eyes snapped on him, heart exploding to race in his chest.
Zoro was going to die.
He was so fucking going to die.
The blond turned back on him, pissed. Zoro was frozen in his place, staring at the blond in caution.
”You do not get to talk to others like that.” The blond's voice came out slippery smooth and fast, like a zigzagging water slide. ”It. Is. Rude. Now, my dear: Welcome. How can I help you?”
Zoro’s mouth felt like sand, and he wasn't sure he could get any words out at all.
”What… Can I get for you?” he managed. It sounded gruffy and tight, but the blond closed his eyes with his shoulders relaxing. He breathed out a little sigh, wrist rolling in a goodness, at last gesture.
”Finally,” he muttered, “A little decency after getting yelled at the whole goddamn...” His hand slipped into his jacket, and Zoro watched quietly as he dug out his wallet. “Would you be so kind as to give me a pack of cigarettes? Any brand is fine.”
Without taking his eyes off the blond, Zoro leaned back to grab the first one he could reach from the shelf behind and chucked it across the table.
”Anything else?”
The blond opened his eyes and looked at him, and shit, oh fuck, the cold, itchy feeling on Zoro’s face had been from the stare. It was like a freezing laser pointer.
”No, thank you.” The blond shook his head. “That’ll be all.”
Pulling out a couple of bills from his wallet, he handed them to Zoro. Zoro's stomach twisted at the thought of having to reach for the blond to get the money. He held his breath and was careful not to touch the gloved fingers.
”Have a lovely night," the blond told him pleasantly, and Zoro muttered something as a response.
From under his brows, he watched the blond leave. Outside, through the floor-length window, Zoro saw him dig out one of the cigarettes and light it up.
He was pretty sure there were no lighter.
Then he walked off from Zoro's field of vision.
”Shit.” Zoro melted down on his chair and pushed the balls of his palms into his eye sockets. He was shaking.
What-
He felt his heartbeat throughout his whole body. He couldn't believe he was still alive.
“Fuck.”
The rest of his shift, thankfully, went normally, if not a little cautiously.
He hoisted five kilos of the Mystery Meat 1999 out of the drive-through window and was rewarded with a dead squirrel and a patch of hair with bits of skin still intact. He tried to fix the leaking fridge, only to have to quickly step inside it to hide when something looking like a gorilla made out of bees started to take form on the next aisle. He was about to head to the breakroom, but at the door, he realized the room had switched into a mirror image of itself, and backed off.
It was a chill job.
**
It wasn’t even that likely the blond would come back a second time, right?
Right?
No.
”Sit up straight.”
The blond had come back and was just as unpleasant as the first time. This time, though, he hadn’t even bothered with the intercom.
Zoro was sitting low on his chair – He’d just gotten bored and, over time, kind of melted down. It happens. It wasn’t his fault the blond had decided to pay a visit during the exact three-hour window he’d happened to be in that position, and gotten pissy about it.
Steadily spinning the chair from side to side, he looked curiously up at the blond on the other side of the desk.
What the fuck was he?
Why hadn’t he killed Zoro yet?
Now that he knew what the blond was, Zoro could feel the looming presence he emitted. It was making Zoro a little suffocated.
”Didn’t you hear me?” the blond snapped, hand on his hips.
”Yeah.”
Zoro continued to sway his seat from side to side, inspecting the blond.
He was so human-like. He talked, looked, and acted like a human. He’d seen Zoro without Zoro seeing him first, and Zoro didn’t know if it had something to do with having talked to him first.
Or maybe the blond was just that powerful.
Maybe.
Zoro didn't know.
He was on completely new ground here.
He didn't like it.
”There’s a hole in your pants,” the blond noted snidely, and Zoro glanced down at his knees poking out of his jeans.
”Yeah,” he agreed.
Anywho, Zoro felt a little like the blond was the type to think killing an employee of any company would be impolite and messy, and probably wouldn’t bother.
Of course, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he was completely off. He probably was at least a little bit off because there was no trusting your instincts in Kiello.
Like zero.
So the blond could very well rip his chest open in three seconds' time. Or more likely, he would do the middle ground and do it clean. He'd snap Zoro’s neck with an annoyed scoff and grimace at the grossness of having to touch something the likes of him. Then, after that, the blond would send a hand-written apology letter with flowers to the gas station, explaining in fancy-schmancy words how the said employee had been oh-so-unprofessional. Terribly sorry. Couldn't have been helped. Gave him a headache.
The corner of the blond’s mouth was pulled down, back straight, arms crossed over his suit jacket.
”It looks tacky,” he scoffed, looking down at Zoro.
”Okay.”
The blond looked like he saw wet dreams about touring people who were richer than him around giant mansions, where he could occasionally kick a lost duckling out of their way. Maybe bent down and kiss someone's shoes while he was at it.
“So you want something?” Zoro tried to speed things up.
”Didn’t they give you a work uniform?”
God dam-
Yeah, they had. Some scratchy button-down.
Zoro tilted his head.
”You want your cigarette?”
”No.” The blond sounded annoyed. ”I don’t want a cigarette. You should add the subject to your damn sentences.”
Zoro scratched his nose.
”You sure?” he kept swaying, peering up at the blond. ”You seem kinda tight. Might help.”
Nicotine addicts tended to get a little bitchy when they hadn’t had their smoke, and the blond was being really bitchy.
The blond narrowed his eyes.
”You are very rude,” the blond said like a snob. Zoro shrugged, not escalating. The blond’s eyes raked over his chest. ”What’s your name?” He asked snippishly, not finding the nametag.
Zoro sucked his teeth.
Yeahhh, he wouldn’t be telling that.
”Abe.”
The blond shook his head, his lips pressed together into a tight not-quite-a-smile.
”Nuh-uh, my dear. Try again.”
Zoro tightened his jaw, trying to ignore the nasty, cool ripples going through him.
How had the blond known?
Could the blond read thoughts?
You’re ugly.
Nothing.
So had he met Abe?
”And I know you’re not Vivi or Usopp either.”
That made Zoro stop his swaying, stomach sinking to the level of his shoes as he stared at the blond.
He was fine giving away Abe’s name, but the blond knowing the names of his only decent coworkers wasn’t fun. It was pretty fucking worrying, in fact.
The blond kept looking at him, expectant.
”Manjaro,” Zoro said cautiously. He’d rather saw off his own foot than tell his real name to this thing.
The blond smiled thinly.
”Manjaro,” he tasted the name, and Zoro was so fucking glad he didn’t have to hear his own name said like that. The blond leaned closer over the table. ”Good. Now, Manjaro, just what do you think would’ve happened to you if I’d really thought you were Abe, hm?”
Zoro shifted his jaw and shrugged stiffly.
”Probably would’ve depended on how impulsive you are,” he muttered. “No double-checking, no nothing.”
The blond looked at him with distaste. The light in the gas station flickered, and Zoro couldn’t tell if it was the blond doing it or if it was just the general shitty wiring.
He could hear his own pulse.
”You’re not too smart, are you?” the blond said dryly.
Well. Depends.
He handled numbers decently, but by no means was he some damn future surgeon.
He had nothing to say, though, so he just kept staring at the blond. The blond eventually just scoffed.
”No use.” His gloved fingers slipped into his pocket, and he pulled out a piece of paper. ”I brought a list.”
Good for him, Zoro guessed.
But the blond just kept staring at him, waiting. Zoro had no idea what he was waiting for and wished he'd just look away already. The blond threw one arm frustratedly up.
”You’re supposed to help me find what I need!"
Zoro frowned.
The fuck, why?
Slow, Zoro leaned to his side to peer at the couple of short aisles behind the blond. Over them hung pretty clear signs of hygene, elctroics, freer, so on. Little old and faded, but you’d have to be pretty fucking dumb not to figure out what they meant.
He leaned back and looked up at the blond.
”It’s not a very complicated layout,” Zoro told him.
The blond looked like he’d tasted something bad, but was too proper to spit it out.
”That is not the point,” he said tightly.
”Then what is?”
Zoro was digging his nails under the calluses on his palms. He wished he were at the gym instead of here.
He wished he was anywhere but here.
”You know what, forget it,” the blond snapped, and Zoro bit his teeth together. ”I just do it myself, like I always fucking do, why don’t I? You sit your hardworking ass down and make yourself comfortable.”
”Alright."
Silently, he watched the blond stomp away to scale the aisles, pick up a couple of fruits and vegetables from the poduc-section, roll them in his hands, squeeze and squint at them with an angry expression like each of them had been individually dropped onto his head.
He got some cream, beans, spices. It almost looked like a normal grocery run, up until the point when he dug out a five-liter jug of cow blood and emptied their whole shelf of salt into his basket.
Okay.
At one point, the door opened, and the blond did the wrist-flick again. Zoro heard a screech, counted to five, and only then heard a smack coming from what sounded like the other side of the parking lot.
Okay, so.
Okay.
He kept his gaze on the blond. Not that it would do anything if the blond decided to go berserk on him, but he just didn't want to let him out of his sight.
Just fucking leave already.
”I’d like these.” The basket dropped heavily onto the counter, and Zoro blinked at it. Slowly, he planted his hands on their respective handrests and lifted himself up from his slouch. He started to scan the items, one by one. The blond sighed, and when Zoro glanced at him, said, ”Yes, thank you, I found all that I needed.”
Zoro said nothing. The blond scoffed and indignantly looked away.
”Dumb ones say what,” Zoro muttered fast. The blond snapped sharply to look at him.
”What?”
Zoro cleared his throat.
”Do you wanna bag?”
The blond looked at him suspiciously, and Zoro answered innocently to the stare, heart running wild in his chest, but fucking worth it.
”Why, that would be lovely, thank you.” The blond didn’t smile and had his eyebrows haughtily raised. The corner of Zoro’s mouth nudged in acknowledgment and reached to pull out a paper bag from under the counter. Something had splattered on it, having left little dots on it.
It was fine.
When the groceries were packed and hanging from one of the blond’s hands, he still stood there.
”What?” Zoro asked dully. ”I already gave you the change.”
The blond rolled his eyes.
”You should know,” he said, condescending as fuck, and Zoro felt his eye twitch.
”Know what?” he grunted.
The blond rolled his wrist towards the door. Zoro looked. Then he looked back at the blond.
”Open it yourself,” he said, and the blond’s teeth flashed. Zoro was pretty sure they were sharp at the ends.
”No. I’m leaving, Manjaro. What do you say?”
Zoro frowned.
“Good?”
”Get fucked,” the blond snapped, turned on his heel, and stomped out the door. The manual door opened on its own, and he was gone.
So had passed Zoro’s second time meeting the blond, and he hadn’t died yet.
The lights flickered, and something wet-ish and bat-like smashed into the window nearest to Zoro. He pulled the shades down.
**
Usopp had a real job. Too bad the real job paid him practically nothing at all, and he had to take shifts at the shittiest gas station on earth to get by.
At least he was only part-time.
“...doesn’t accept my samples because he’s a dick who likes to change the rules whenever he scratches his ass and...”
He kept complaining to Zoro as they were shelving the canned tomatoes. It was night.
It sucked.
“...just last month, my method was fine, and now it’s not, and it’s like he doesn’t even want...”
Usopp’s real job was researching plants growing in the fuck-ass bits of the devil, and since Kiello happened to be the one nearest his nutsack, no one – Literally fucking no one – was willing to come here for any type of special plants.
Except Usopp.
It’s my passion Zoro’s ass, it was because Usopp was a pushover, spineless little wimp who couldn’t stand his ground and say no.
But the nature here is so unique.
...Uniquely shit and dangerous, yes, exactly, fuck off- Leave.
It stressed the fuck out of Zoro to have Usopp here.
“...which would’ve been fine, honest, but he was just so unnecessarily mean about it, like, what do you mean shabby line of cut, bitch, you’re a shabby line of cut, like, when have people forgotten the I feel-sentence structure, because I feel it would be a very nice thing to…”
Zoro frowned at the can of tomatoes in his hand.
It looked off. Zoro rolled it slowly, annoyed that he couldn't put his finger on what it was. His eyes flickered up, scanned the shelves around, Usopp’s voice fading into a background buzz.
It all looked like a picture. No dimension, no depth.
He looked over his shoulder, out the window to the parking lot. The tall forest around was dark. Too dark. The shadows stretched in, intense and long, the tree tops indistinguishable from the sky that just moments ago had been filled with stars.
On the highway, the streetlamps were flickering. Dulling down. Fading, one by one.
The dying light of a street lamp reflected on something on the road. Then it was swallowed by the darkness again, only leaving a faint image of a shining rim of what had looked like a large cave in Zoro’s mind.
No.
Zoro squinted.
Not a cave.
It shifted a little, peeked back out a bit, and it was a mouth.
A giant frog opening its mouth wider, wider, wi-
“…feel like I’d just perform so much better with positive enforc-”
Usopp’s sentence was cut short by Zoro grabbing the upper half of his face. He felt the skin over Usopp’s skull and eyes mush and wrinkle under his palm as Zoro tried to cover his vision.
Usopp’s head hit the corner of the shelf, and Zoro ducked his own head down, eyes squeezed shut, pressed into the bend of his elbow.
Before the dropped can of tomatoes reached the floor, light ignited the gas station, and Zoro was going blind.
Even with his eyes shut and covered, he was staring directly into the sun. An inchworm made of sharp, needle-like flares of light steadily dug deeper and deeper into the crevices of his brain.
The light held on, and Zoro couldn't do anything but endure.
Then, agonizingly slowly, with teasing pulses, the light dimmed.
The inchworm died, squirming and stinging, until its corpse stilled and it started to rot in Zoro’s head.
Blissful darkness fell.
Lowering his arm cautiously from his face, Zoro blinked and squinted, trying to get his sight back. His eyes burned, were wet, his vision full of dancing dots. He hated being one sense short.
God… Fuck.
He squinted harder.
The windows were intact, and the depth was back. Outside the windows, on the empty, dark highway behind the parking lot, the street lamps were back on. The sky had stars. The forest around had deepening shadows, instead of being one dark mass. The frog was gone.
Usopp was whining a steady, high whine, and Zoro let go of his face.
“Ow, my zygomatic bones,” he was scrunching his nose up and down, massaging the area around his eyes. A momentary light handprint over his eyes faded as the blood flowed back in. “Give a guy a warning, huh? My pretty eyes are like two centimeters closer to each other now.”
Yeah no.
Zoro hadn’t forgotten the time he’d told Usopp to Look down, now! and instead of doing that, he’d snapped his head up.
What Usopp had seen had made him sprint to the steel-enforced bathroom of the gas station – The last hope of survival if you accidentally glimpsed at one. He'd only barely made it there.
Zoro had followed after, one hand over his eyes. He'd listened to the thing howl and bang its head on the door over and over again. With dread, he'd waited to hear if the door would crack, ready to look and turn himself into a living bait if that happened.
The door had held.
Usopp had later described the thing as a Humanoid mix of a greater short-nosed fruit bat, Gansu alpine fine-wool sheep, and that one horsefly that got stuck in Nami’s hair that made her quit remember?
Like Zoro said – Usopp being there stressed him the fuck out.
He really, really wished Usopp would just leave.