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Kuma is a giant before him, paws of a bear daemon that he doesn't have, his body the flesh and cogs of Zoro’s Thriller Bark nightmares. He is a machine of a man, immovable against Luffy’s will, the clink of three bloody blades from their sheaths, but he is a challenge that Zoro rises up against anyway, lest the crew fail so early into their dreams.
Pax is behind him. The crew are behind him.
Where would you like to go?
He's alone; and when he wakes, disorientated, reclined on a bed that might as well be stone. A room creeps into being around him, four walls of darkness and a carpetless floor lit dimly by an extravagant chandelier. There is a window by his head, panels like a jigsaw all slanted and strewn. The outside world is a fog of grey and green, much like Zoro’s pallor as he heaves himself up, week-old wounds making him wince.
The chandelier rocks above him, ancient glass and dusty candles tinkering together. A small, squat shape is just perceivable on the frame, and Zoro squints at it, amber eyes blinking back through the gothic gloom. It's a bird, he realises, the creature flapping its wings with a feathery ruffle to steady itself, and the swordsman lets out a breath as he uncurls his fist from the duvet.
The bird hoots. “The fuck’s an owl doing in here?” Zoro grumbles, more interested in breaking the tense silence than actually receiving an answer. The room seems to be constructed of an impossible number of dark corners, the window spilling shadows across the floorboards rather than light, and everything from the bedframe to the bandages keeping Zoro’s chest together seems to be slathered in a thick layer of dust, which can't be hygienic, he ponders, rubbing at his breastbone.
He kicks off the bedsheet, ignoring the wince that snaps through his entire body. It turns out that he's wearing bandages and little else, but Zoro’s never been one for modesty anyway, accepting that the owl will just have to live with him padding around in his boxers until he can locate the rest of his clothes. First thing's first: find out where here is, find a boat, and then find a way back to Sabaody Archipelago. The last thing he remembers is Kuma’s gigantic paw swinging down and then screaming in his ear, but he doesn't remember who was screaming or why; he hopes it wasn't Pax, and he prays it wasn't Luffy.
Zoro hauls himself from the bed. That he doesn't immediately tumble over his wolfdog daemon is unusual, but he tries not to worry about it, still rubbing his chest in the hope that it will ease the burn of pain within him. Pax will come when she's needed, as she always has, so Zoro focuses on lugging his ten tonne pair of legs across the room in a hazardous straight line.
Wadō Ichimonji and his other katana are propped up against the far wall. Zoro wobbles towards him, glad for some familiarity in this creepy bedroom, and above him, the chandelier clatters again as the owl swoops down from its perch. Zoro’s eyes follow its descent to the bedpost, but if the bird is bothered by the suspicious glare of its audience, then it gives no indication as it begins to preen, tiny beak digging into an even tinier body.
Honestly, it's so small that Zoro bets he could squish the daft thing between the palms of his hands. He thought owls were meant to be predators, but this one looks as though even a mouse would be too much for it. It's not doing any harm though, minus the clink of its talons into the wooden headboard, and considering that Pax hasn't chosen to eat it yet bodes well for its temperament. He ignores it, scooping up Wadō Ichimonji and holding it instead; shoving the blade through his haramaki isn't exactly an option at the moment, but Zoro doesn't care about how stupid he looks as he swivels to inspect the room. Now armed, he takes the time to consider what sort of mad person it must be who lives with these bare walls, the creaking floors, the ghastly wardrobe and bedside cabinet, and decides that it's probably someone as weird as the inhabitants of Thriller Bark - or, the ones that didn't live to tell the tale, at any rate.
Thriller Bark was only weeks ago, but the memories are a scab that Kuma’s reappearance has torn apart. Zoro doesn’t know what has become of his nakama, but he can only assume that his attempt to protect them has failed, unlike the torturous events of Thriller Bark before. Sabaody Archipelago was a hurdle that they were not ready to face, it seems, and Zoro curses his weakness as he resolves to reunite with the crew.
He reaches the door with a tentative care, only too aware of his injuries, but it makes little difference as the door crashes open from hallway, permitting a woman with bouncing, pink curls and a ghastly fashion-sense to charge her way inside. Frilly, knee-high boots click and clack against the floor, but if she is as surprised to see Zoro as he is to see her - for she can only be one of the opponents from Thriller Bark, miniature crown and all - then her shrieking anger betrays nothing as she orders him back into the bed.
Zoro doesn't manage to close his jaw fast enough to avoid earning a mouthful of the newspaper that she lobs at his face.
“You choose now to wake up?” she screams, stepping towards him in those terrifying heels. She shepherds him back to the bed with a brandish of a particularly pointy umbrella, and as she does, the owl swoops from its perch to collect the discarded newspaper and deposit it into her hands.
It’s a daemon, Zoro realises, just before the woman rolls up the paper and smacks him with it.
“You’ve been asleep for days, you useless dolt! Your captain’s been through hell and back and what have you been doing? Lying here like a goon expecting to be waited on hand and foot because you and your stupid crew just can’t go one day without -”
“What happened to Luffy? Where’s my crew?”
“You could at least be grateful,” the woman snaps, warning him to choose his words wisely with another threatening jab of her umbrella. “I’m the one who patched you up after you came tumbling out of the sky like a -”
He wrenches the umbrella from her grasp, lobbing it across the room. The owl hoots and flusters in surprise, feathers ruffling indignantly as Zoro barks, “Tell me! ”
“Oh for goodness sake,” the woman huffs, shoving the newspaper into his lap. “Here.”
Zoro races to tear it open but there’s no need - the answer is plastered right across the front page, crisp, capital letters captioning the events that the world had witnessed while Zoro slept: the break-out from Impel Down, the battle at Marineford, and the beginning of a bloody and violent war.
The photograph in the centre of the page is graphic and cruel, but Zoro cannot tear his eyes away from the sight of his captain clutching a smouldering heap, the red panda lying beside it looking bloody and small as it becomes but a smattering of light.
That’s Ace, Zoro thinks madly, eyes darting across the scene: the beads, the fire, the decimated tattoo. That’s Ace!
He almost cannot bear to read the article - but for Luffy’s sake, he does. It skips over the less favourable events, instead detailing the pirates’ losses, Whitebeard’s death - wasn’t he like ancient anyway? - and the eventual execution of Gol D. Ace. Luffy’s involvement is hardly mentioned, but Zoro knows enough about his captain’s recklessness - his determination, his will - to conclude that how he had catalysed the chaos at Impel Down, how he had charged unheeding to Marineford, and how he had almost given everything to save his brother, only -
To fail.
(And live to tell the tale).
“I wasn’t there,” Zoro breathes, feeling sick with the thought. He has always been there, right from the beginning, at Luffy’s side without so much as being asked; to the crew, he’s a constant, and he’s happy to be taken for granted if it means he can stand beside his captain, behind him, and when Luffy’s not looking, in front.
“Well of course you weren’t there,” the woman snaps, her daemon hooting its agreement. She seems not to recognise the depth of Zoro’s despair, ambling on with an unsympathetic, “Those injuries of yours are severe, and I’m pretty sure you’ve got other things to be worried about than that crazy captain of yours. Unless your Devil Fruit ability is too stupid to use, I don’t think you’re separated from your daemon, so who knows what you’ve gone and done with it.”
The newspaper wilts in Zoro’s hands. His breastbone burns. He almost doesn’t recognise the sound of his own voice, thick with a call for his daemon caught in his throat. “What?”
The woman tuts, crown wobbling as she rolls her eyes, head tilting back in exaggeration. The little owl copies the motion, beak clacking together as its neck spins round and round. Zoro stares at it with mounting horror, wondering if the only reason that Pax hasn’t eaten it yet is because she isn’t here.
“What do you mean what? It’s a dog or a wolf, isn’t it? It didn’t land here with you, so -”
Injuries be damned, Zoro needs to leave right now. Vaulting from the bed, he chucks the newspaper aside and sends the owl scrambling for safety, ensuring that all three of his katana are secure before shoving his way through the room. The woman shouts after him, calling him back, but Zoro only turns when she snatches his arm; he throws her off, uncaring as she tumbles away like her daemon, tottering across the floor in those ridiculous heels.
“Hey!” she cries, heavy makeup darkening her affront. “I did not just put you back together so that you can go charging off and get yourself killed!”
Zoro supposes he ought to be grateful - and he is, truly, only he cannot bring himself to care at the moment, driven by the need to find out what has become of his crew. The screaming that he can remember must have been Pax, and his half of their bond recoils at the thought, tightening and twisting inside of his chest. “Yeah, thanks, whatever lady. I need to find Pax and get to Sabaody Archipelago, so -”
She throws herself into the doorway, faster and more agile than Zoro and his body of wounds. “Have you not been listening? Your daemon isn’t here and your captain probably isn’t on Sabaody Archipelago either! Sit back down before you rip your stitches or worse , you heathen. And it’s Perona , moron.”
“Look, lady - Perona - whatever.” He waves a dismissal, discarding the details. “Get out of my way.”
Zoro’s hand moves to its place atop Wadō Ichimonji’s hilt. Perona shoves her hands against her hips, heels like daggers into the floor.
Behind her, a shape slinks from the shadows of the hall, lolling pink tongue sliding within a mouth of silver and bloodied white gold. A snake of a tail sweeps the floor around it, body perched elegantly atop four black paws, and the panther’s ears remain alert, still, and posed as Zoro sucks in a breath that hits like a punch and burns in his lungs.
“You,” he hisses, feeling somewhere distantly Pax’s hackles rising, but by the time Perona whirls around at the cause of his shock, Forsythia’s presence is all but gone. Only the sight of her in Zoro’s mind remains, the corridor empty now, shadows abound, and when Zoro bustles from the bedroom and ignores Perona’s shout, he goes no further than where Mihawk’s daemon had been.
Perona’s daemon hoots nervously. Zoro lets his eyes drift down the corridor, knowing he won’t find any sign of the swordsman, but hands ready at his katana nevertheless.
The mansion dust trembles around him. The grand windows reflect back his scowl, alone in the candlelit corridor bar the stranger in the doorway, and her daemon ruffled up on her shoulder.
Almost idly, Zoro wonders if Luffy’s daemon, too, will overwatch the night with eyes that gleam of birds of prey, and as he does he heaves a sigh, and lets the hands atop his weapons fall away.
(Mihawk can wait).