The sun had barely risen, painting the streets of Fuschia Village with a soft golden light. Zoro moved silently, green hair catching the first rays, swords strapped across his back. The villagers were beginning their daily routines, unaware of the swordsman who had escaped death only hours before.
Zoro paused at the edge of town, eyes scanning the road leading into the forests beyond. Insight hummed faintly in his mind, drawing attention to subtle movements: a branch swaying unnaturally, a shadow darting behind a tree, the distant sound of voices not quite human.
Pirates? Bounty hunters? Or just animals?
He crouched low, observing. A group of three rough-looking men appeared, arguing heatedly near a merchant's cart. Their movements were sloppy but coordinated—enough to make them dangerous if underestimated. Insight nudged him, subtle but clear: Weakness in the middle one… timing off on the right…
Zoro smiled faintly. He didn't need brute force. Observation and precision would suffice.
He stepped forward, letting the breeze carry his presence. "Leave that merchant alone," he called, voice calm but firm.
The men turned, laughter spilling from their mouths. "And who's gonna make us?" the middle one sneered, brandishing a rusty cutlass.
Zoro drew one sword lazily, spinning it in his hand. "This guy," he said, voice low, steady.
The fight was brief. The first strike came fast, but Zoro dodged instinctively, Insight guiding every movement. His parries were precise; his counters hit where they hurt most. The middle man stumbled, the right man's timing faltered, and the left man found himself disarmed in seconds.
By the time the three pirates ran off, shouting curses and threats, Zoro was sheathing his sword again. Not a single scratch on him, but enough chaos left behind to send a clear message.
He exhaled slowly, letting the calm return. Insight had whispered lessons throughout the fight, subtle adjustments he hadn't consciously made. Observation, timing, precision… this is just the beginning.
Zoro crouched beside the merchant, who stared at him wide-eyed. "Th-thank you, mister! I thought—"
"Don't thank me," Zoro interrupted, standing tall. "Just be careful who you trust on these roads."
The swordsman turned toward the horizon. The forests stretched endlessly, the sea glimmered faintly beyond, and somewhere out there, stronger opponents waited. Not yet, he thought. Today was just a test. Tomorrow, he would push himself further.
He walked back to the outskirts of the village and sat on a low ridge, drawing one sword to run a slow practice drill. Every swing, every stance, every pivot was deliberate. Insight whispered small adjustments, and Zoro implemented them without pause.
I survived once today because I saw what others couldn't, he thought. Tomorrow, I'll survive because I'll be stronger—and smarter.
The sun climbed higher, and Zoro's green hair glinted in the light. The first real test was over, but the world remained vast, dangerous, and full of possibilities. He had survived. He had learned. And he had begun walking the path that no one—not fate, not pirates, not even the Straw Hats—could define for him.